The Shadow of the East

d been reading, but the book had failed to hold her attention and

serene face clouded, and once or

of the gallery to within a few feet of the lofty ceiling. On the fourth side of the room, whither the gallery did not extend, three tall narrow windows overlooked the drive. The furniture was scanty and severely Jacobean, having for more than two hundred years remained practically intact; a ponderous writing table, a couple of long low cabinets, and half a dozen cavernous armchairs recushioned to suit modern requirements of ease. Some fine old bronze

n this big silent room that was spacious

ore particularly in touch with the subtle influence of family that seemed to pervade the

family-they were b

gly cried since childhood. It was a good thing that she was alone she thought, with a startled glance round the empty room. She would have to keep a firmer hold over herself than that. She laughed a little shakily, choked, blew her nose vigorously, and walked to

en storm-tossed the scene had its own pec

pressing closer to the window peered out more attentively. Eastward and westward stretched long avenues that curved and receded soon from sight. The gravelled space befor

he room. She moved about restlessly, lifting books to lay them down immediately, ransacking the cabinets for prints that at a second glance fai

the writing table and drawing toward her a sheet of paper slowly wrote the date. Beyond that she did not get. The ink d

at served as a paper weight. It was a piece of her own work and she handled it lovingly with a curiously

erself with an effort she made a second attempt to write but at the end of half a dozen words rose im

of habit she searched for a cigarette in a box on the mantelpiece, but as she lit it a sudden thought a

ed page she did not notice what she was reading and laying the book down she gave up all further endeavour to distract her wandering thoughts.

tate this morning. Time was when I never minded, but this last year has spoiled

nd and rain, his keen blue eyes on hers, reliable, unchanging. It was a curious chance that had brought him-just at that moment. The temptation to make

is morning and Gillian went yesterday to the Horringfords. I expect her back to-day in time for tea. For myself, I had gout or rheumatism or the bl

glad to escape the Australians. They are enormously kind,

truck by a new note in her voice he refrained from comment, smoking slowly and luxuriating in the warmth after a cold wet drive in an open

went off early. Weather seems to make no diffe

ed. He felt unaccountably but definitely that she wished him to wait, that what was evidently on her mind would come with no prompting from him. He felt in her attitude a tension that was unusual-to-day she was totally unlike herself. Once or twice only in the course of a lifelong friendship she had shown him her serious side. She had turned to him for help then-he seemed presciently aware that she was turning to him for help now. He prided himself that he knew her as well

arry," the words came with a rush.

replied with a promptne

s. What we should have done without you God only knows. You care for Barry, he's as dear to you as he is to me, can't you do something? The suffering in his face-the tragedy in his eyes-I wake up in the night seeing them! Peter, can't you do something?" She was beside him, clutching at th

me than Barry-for the sake of his mother-" his voice faltered momentarily, "but the fact remains-he is not my son. I am o

gallery before I could find a word of expostulation. Yoshio of course. I was naturally startled and angry in consequence. I demanded an explanation and after a great deal of hesitation he muttered something about Barry wanting him-which is ridiculous on the face of it. If Barry had really wanted him he would have been inside the room, not crouched outside on the door mat. He seemed very upset and kept begging me to say nothing about it. I don't remember how he put it but he certainly conveyed the impression that it would not be good for Barry to know. I don't understand it-Barry trusts him implicitly-and yet this.... I'm afraid, and I've never been afraid in my life before." The little break in her voice hurt him. He felt curiously unable to cope with the situation. Her story disturbed him more than he cared to let her see in her present condition of unwonted agitation. Twice in the past they had stood shoulder to shoulder through a crisis of sufficient magnitude and she had showed then a cautious judgment, a reliability of purpose that had been purely masculine in its strength and sanity. She had been wholly matter-of-fact and unimaginative, unswayed by petty trivialities and broad in her decision. She had displayed a levelness of mind which had almost excluded feeling and which had enabled him to deal with her as with another man, confident of her understanding and the unlikelihood of her succumbing unexpectedly to ordinary womanly weaknesses. He had thought that he knew her thoroughly, that no circumstance that might ar

nst something-momentous. Between ourselves we can admit the fact frankly. It is a different man who has come back to us-and we can only carry on and notice nothing. He is trying to forget something. He has worked like a nigger since he came home, slogging away down at the estate office as if he had his bread to earn. He does the work of two men-and he hates it. I see him sometimes, forgetful of his surroundings, staring out of the window, and the look on his face brings a confounded lump into my throat. Thank God he's young-perhaps in time-" he shrugged and broke off inconclusively, conscious of the futility of platitudes. And they were all he had to offer. There was no suggestion he could make, nothing he could do. It was repetition of history, again he had to stand by and watch suffering he was powerless to aid, powerless to relieve. The mother first and now the son-it would seem almost as if he ha

ruffly. For a moment there was silence, then

stay f

my love to Gillian and tell her I shall not, forgive her soon f

he Horringfords, but she promised to

illian, Peter?" she said

witch, bless her!" he replied, holding out his hand

er," she said unsteadily, "and you'v

, then he bent his head and unexpectedly put

you want me," he said

ll looking after him

s life. And in exchange sorrow and an undying memory. The woman he loved had chosen not him but handsome inconsequent Barry Craven and, for her choice, had reaped misery and loneliness. And because he had known that inevitably a day would come when she would need assistance and support he had sunk his own feelings and retained his post. Her brief happiness

y a woman can know, but now for the first time she had heard from his lips a

r the surface rose despite her and she blinked the mo

the gloom, coming from the stables, caught

his broad back. His movements suggested intense weariness, yet nearing the house his step lagged even more as if, despite ph

thought with sudden compassion of the horse that he had ridden. She had been in the stables only a few weeks before when he had handed over another jaded mud-caked brute trembling in every limb and showing signs of merciless riding t

ttle dark-clad figure who gave way with a deep Oriental

ime to dwell on her unaccountable change of feeling for through the glass of the inner door she saw Craven in the vestibule struggling stiffly to rid himself of a dripping mackintosh. It

had been waiting for him. She met him as if by acc

do an act of grace on this one occasion by cheering my solitude. Peter looked in fo

reply, "All right. In the library? T

ked up from the tea urn she was manipulating, her eyes resting on him with

laconically, handin

rettes. Miss Craven chatted easily until the tea table was taken away and Craven ha

rself to speak. What she had to say was even more difficult to formulate than her confidence to Peters. But

you of Gillian," s

question was abrupt, an accent almost of su

say. It's something serious, Barry, about Gillian's future," she paused, hoping that he would volunteer some remark that would make her task easier. But he volunteered nothing and, stealing a glance at him she saw on

to give it more serious attention. Time has run away so quickly. It is incredible that nearly two years have passed sin

tly. "You mean that her coming of age will make no difference-tha

Why

I thought you did." The old cau

rised. "Isn't

dored on the estate, she has a corner in that great heart of hers for all who live here-but still that won't keep her. In her way of thinking she has a debt to pay, and al

nsense," he int

as long as she is your ward her maintenance and artistic education are merely her just due, that there can be no question of repayment. She does not see it in that light. Personally-though I would not for the world have her know it-I understand and sympathize with h

can prov

en shook

t provide for,"

is former lounging attitude and stood erect, scowling down a

challenge in her tone and for a moment was disconcerted. "There wo

arity?" suggested Miss

ty be

e to those who have to suffer

his pocket and the scow

adequate, and it could be represented that some old inve

out to him by exasperated relatives which ceased with his death. He told her plainly in his last letter that there was nothing in the world for her-except your charity.

. Then he walked to the window, which was still unshuttered, and looked out into the darkness, his back turned uncompro

ough to attempt to earn her own living, to endure the hard work, the privations it would entail. You remember how bronchitis pulled her down last year; I am anxious about her this winter. She is constitutionally delicate, she may grow out of it-or she m

speak. But when at length he answered his words brought a look of swift disappointment a

don, to take up your own interests again, and to travel. I can't expect you to take pity much longer on a lonely bachelor. You have given up much to help me-it cannot go on for ever. For what you have done I can never thank you, it is beyond thanks, but I must not trade on your generosity. If you pu

on me, Barry," she said slowly

unt Caro?-you do car

e all future permanencies have been taken out of my hands. I hate talking about myself, but you had to know some day, this only accelerates it. I have not been feeling myself for some time-a little while ago I went to London for definite info

er self-control. She turned her head, catching her lip between her te

, that is all. I'm not grumbling, I've had a wonderful life-I've been able t

re? Doctors are

rived at the same conclusion, which was at least consoling. A diversity of opinion would have torn my nerves to tatters. I couldn't tell you before, it would have worried me.

mpossible for me to make a definite home for her, even supposing that she were to agree

zed at the courage she displayed. She might almost have been discoursing on the probable death of a stranger. And yet, he reflect

led him. And presently she spok

, as you know, goes back into the estate. I have never saved anything-there never seemed any reason. And what I made with my work I gave away. There is only you-only one way-Barry,

prayed earnestly for some counter-distraction that might become powerful enough to surmount the tragic memory with which he lived-a memory she was convinced and the tragedy was present in his face. She had cherished a hope, born in the early days of their return to Craven Towers and maintained in the face of seeming improbability of fulfilment, that had grown to be an ardent desire. In the realization of that hope she thought she saw his salvation. With the knowledge of her own precarious hold on life she clung even more closely to what had become the strongest wish she had ever known. She had never deluded herself into imagining the consummation of her wish imminent, she had frankly acknowledged to herself that his inscrutability was impenetrable, and now hope seemed almost extinguished. She realized it with a feeling of helplessness. And yet she had a curious impulse, an inner conviction that urged with a peremptoriness that over-rode subterfuge. She would speak plainly, be the consequences what they were. It was for the ultimate happiness of the two beings whom she loved best on earth-for that surely she might venture something. She had never been afraid of plain speaking, it would be strange if she let convention deter her now. Convention! it had wrecked many a life-so had interference, she thought with sudden racking indecision. What if by interference she hindered

all indecision gone, complet

said with slow distinctness. "I wan

s if she had

And from his tortured face she averted her eyes hastily, sick at hea

, steadying her voi

e filled by one who is worthy to follow her-how worthy only I, who have been admitted to her high ideals, appreciate; to know that there w

face hidden from her. "Gillian-safe-in my hands-my God

im leaped up in her with sudden strength, forcing utterance and breaki

ge enough to recall him to himself. He straightened slowly and drew away from her with a little shiver. "There is nothing I can tell you," he replied dully, "nothing that I can explain, only this-I went throu

al effort. It was inconceivable that this shadow could always lie across his life. Whatever tragical event had occurred belonged to the past-surely the future might hold some alleviation, some happiness that might compensate for the sorrow that had lined his face and brought the silver threads that gleamed in his thick dark hair. Surely in the care for another life memory might be dulled and there might dawn for him a new hope, a new peace. Despite his broken suggestive words her trust in him was still

owly, "is the future to count for nothing? There are, in all probability, ma

catch. But he did not go as she feared he would. He lingered in the room, sta

obstinacy in her voice, and waited long for h

her. I cannot

th a quickening heartbeat she awaited an outburst, a retort that would end everyt

is no bar--" she began eagerly, but he cut her short. "I

ssarily mean that you can never again know happiness? Must you for a-a memory, turn your back irrevocab

ntentness. "For me...." he smil

hands clenched but he did not reply and swift contrition fell on her. She turned to him impulsively. "Forgive me, Barry. I shouldn't have said that, but I want this thing so desperately. I am convinced

at if I can help it

pectantly. He put her from him gently. "I can promise nothing. I must think,

motives. She believed implicitly that the joining of the two lives whose future was all her care would result in the ultimate happiness of both. They had grown used to each other. A closer relationship than that of guardian and ward seemed, in view of the comparatively slight difference in age, a natural outcome of the intimacy into which they had been thrown. It was not without precedent; similar events had happened before and would doubtless happen agai

vered as she leaned

ace had looked as if it could never soften again. When he had gone he had given her no definite promise and she had no possibility of guessing what his decision would be. But on reflection she found hope in his deferring reply. It was all that was left to her. She had done her utmost, the rest lay with him. She sighed deeply, she had never felt such weariness of mind and body. As she gave way to a feeling of growing lassitude drowsiness came over her which she was too tired to combat and for some time she slept heavily. She awoke with a start to find Gillian, wide-eyed with concern, kneeling beside

looked at her gravely. "Sure?" she asked, "you are sure that you

have a good time; did you remember to

nic, and this heavenly coat has kept me as warm as pie-Nina Atherton taught me that. That nice family considerably enlarged my v

nswer, "Peter was quoting t

who had spent a couple of months at the Towers the previous summer, bringing

her arm closer a

e queerest feeling this morning. I thought you wanted me, wanted me urgently. As if you could ever want anybody urgently, you self-reliant wonder." She gave the sh

en sat ve

that her voice appeared more natural tha

rs to cheer your solitary tea. I h

ly. But Barry condescen

ore she added: "I thought he scorned le five o'

ss Craven, staring. Gillian

poils me dreadfully-'the sweet singer in Israel'-you know. He h

new curiosity. "I've known him for thirty years, and in less than that number of months you

es-dropped-is there such a word? It was so lovely that I had to clap and he came out and found an unexpected audience on the windowsill. Wasn't it dreadful? He was so dear about it and explained that it was a very p

ade on his good nature shamelessly," said Miss C

ere telepathic sympathy, reserve had melted away and hopes and aspirations had been submitted and discussed. But of this one thing there could be no discussion. Miss Craven realised it and stifled a regretful sigh. Even she, dear as she knew herself to be, might not intrude so intimately. For by such an intrusion she might lose all that she had gained. She could not forfeit the confidence that had grown to mean so much to her, it was too high a price to pay even for the knowledge she sought. She must have patience, she thought, as she ran her fingers with the ol

There was no immediate answer and for a moment she thought she had not been heard. The girl had moved slightly, turning her face away, and with a st

n reply. She seemed more interested in the fire than in her guardian. Laying the tongs away leisurely she came back to Miss Craven's chair and sett

taring through the window, looking the picture of misery, his funny little yellow face all puckered up. He saw me out of the back of his head, truly he did, for he never turned, and tried to slip away. But I made him stay and talk to me. I sat on the stairs and he folded himself up on the mat-I can't describe it any other way-and told me all about Japan, and California and Algeria and all the other queer places he has been to with Mr. Craven. He has such a quaint dramatic way of speaking and lapses into unintelligible Japanese just at the exciting moments-so tantalising! They seem to have been in some very-what do you say?-tight corners. We got quite sociable. I was so interested in listening to his description of the wonderful gardens they make in Japan that I nev

a harvest moon and no carriage-I can't bear sloppiness in anything," snapped Miss Craven in quite her ol

eless to attempt to argue against it. "Next week," she answered the inquiry. "Tuesday, probably. They stay in Paris for a month en route; Lor

-still interes

and symbols until my head spins. Lord Horringford teases her but it is easy to see that her interest p

seasons," said Miss Craven thoughtfully; "I am glad she ha

sensitive face. Miss Craven nodded. "You mean that in unearthing the buried treasure of a dead past she has found the living treasure of a man's love? Yes, and n

d Gillian, with a little wis

nging an old French nursery rhyme

'a donné un

u, quel

But the exigencies of the present thrust aside past memories. She sat on, wrapped in her thoughts until the dropping

ous combination! Peter, my man, you gave wise advice