The Divine Fire

quite sure, which was his excuse for referring it to his cousin Lucia, whose instinct (he would not call it judgement) in the

ck all afternoon, under the beach-tree on the lawn of Court House; to let the peace of the old green garden sink into him; to look at Lucia and forget, utterly forget, about his work (the making of discoveries)

exciting topic, that is to say, not the man; for Rickman y

er, "Loo-chee-a," with a languid stress on the vowels, an

the moment Jewdwine was not prepared to abandon himself to anything so definite and irretrievable. He had not yet made up his mind about Rickman, and did not want to make it up now. Certainty was imp

nder protest and with much secrecy. He had promised Rickman, solemnly, not to show it to a soul; but he had shown it to Lucia. It was all right,

ith a peculiarly tender and agreeable vibration on the "y

"nobody else has had

g to do with him now y

estion. It had not yet occurred to him that the discov

do anything with him. Unless som

hat the way you t

cy, sometimes, whe

told me your

ence sufficiently in showing you hi

his name doe

u'll hear enough of it some day. You h

I think-But then,

by her hesitation, "you don't kn

to his hands. "Take him away. H

ucy, he makes me feel

hy

ion on him-and all the time you can't be sure whether it's a spark of the divine fire or a me

itle page as if fascinated b

ad-it's not bad fo

wo and

ks as if he were ma

t ardent gaze which m

re going to do gre

regularly and as a matter of course. He was not even sure that Lucia did not credit h

rtunate in-in his surroundings, and he's been ill, poor fellow. If one could give him a change. If one we

y didn'

ts rather crowded up wi

been ill. He was entitled also to the ministrations of his cousin Lucia. Lucia spent her time in planning and doing kind t

e said, "would you l

ldn't. I don't t

t-if he's y

's my

wkward consequence of a cousin's adoration; she is apt to re

I said he

id you f

in the City

tragedy of the revelation was such that

p doesn'

d him, Lucia. You see, for one thin

open country to drop them in. I really don't mind, if y

ossible doubt

now. You can't do it wh

al passion, controlled by divine technique. It was his uncle, Sir Frederick, and he wished him at the devil. If all accounts were true, Sir Frederick, when n

y, he reflected. Lucia ought to get some lady to live with her. It was the correct thing, and therefore it was no

n't mind,"

d it in a tone which was m

pages of the manuscript which

ful. Still, I think we ough

ould you pr

cousin's face. He was thinking, "So s

unnecessary, for she always knew. He only said, "I d

women he knew. And Rickman might or might not be a great man, but Lucia, even at three and twenty, was a great lady in her way. Why shouldn't she patron

I don't think you'd sugges

e his imagination dallied

t," she said coldly, "if I h

presence to change the colour on her cheeks, and his last thought had left a stain ther

not impossible. His manners have not that repose which distinguishes

d? Do you

on in opposition to her vagueness, "his Helen is

brations, made apparent that which she, and she only, had discerned in him, the troubled pulse of youth, the passion of the imprisoned and tumultuous soul, the soul which Horace had assured her

ad begun; and over the grey house and the green gard

lose of the great chorus in the second Act. Afte

ardent again, as if sh

ucy," he

't w

im now. It's too hot. Wait t

wanted me to pl

ite hands and arms that hung there, slender, inert and frail. He admired these things so much that he failed to see that they exp

lay to me, n

adoration was quiescent, there was no criticism and no reproach, only a m

ttle voice kept calling at the back of her brain and would not be quiet. At last

ture consideration, she ro

pleased, the delicate un

He could not say positively wherein her beauty consisted, therefore he was always tempted to look at her in the hope of finding out. There was nothing insistent and nothing obvious about it. Some women, for instance, irritated your admiration by the capricious prettiness of one or two features, or fatigued it by the monotonous regularity of all. The beauty of others was vulgarized by the flamboyance of some irrelevant

r people's strong points rather than her own. Lucia did not impress you as being clever, and Jewdwine, who had a clever man's natural distaste for clever women, admired his cousin's intellect, as well he might, for it was he who had taught her how to use it. Her sense of humour, too (for Lucia was dangerously gifted), that sense which more than any of her senses can wreck a woman-he w

to Court House. On a day as hot as this, he wanted nothing but to keep cool. The gentle oscillation of the hammoc

to its front; three friendly grey walls enclosing a little courtyard made golden all day long with sunshine from the south. Court House was older than anything near it except Harmouth Bridge and the Parish Church. Standing apart in its own green lands, it looked older than the young red earth beneath it, a mass upheaved from the grey founda

at he was a Harden by blood and by temperament, and of course if he had only been a Harden by name, and not a Jewdwine, Court House and the great Harden Library would have been his instead of his cousin Lucia's. He knew that his grandfather had wished them to

hood stirring in his scholarly blood did he perceive that his cousin Lucia was not a hindrance but a way. The way was so obvious

Your mother should have been the boy and your uncle Frederick th

d I can't be a Harden, sir; but

race, however, was in some way aware that the same idea had occurred

Lucia adored him. If she had not adored him he might have been urged to something irretrievable and definite. As i

. He could only marry a woman who was consummately suitable to him, in whom nothing jarred, nothing offended; and his cousin Lucia was such a woman. The very fact that she was his cousin was an assurance of her rightness. It followed that, love being the expression of that perfect and predestined harmony, he could only marry for love. Not for a great estate, for Court House and th

a hot July afternoon, taxed the delicate player's strength to its utmost. Lucia began with Scarlatti and Bach; wandered off through S

hoes of her music; the splendour and the passion of her playing hung about her like a luminous clou

id, "you do look

rably happ

am

t look it. What ar

ey walked together

l, now, Horace-of what you sai

ude? Did I mak

it's just because I'm happy t

dear child, you can't be kind to

had certainly somethin

a hot afternoon in Ju