She always blew his cobwebs away like this, with a puff of humorous mountain air. Just now the associations he attached to her were various--she reminded him of a heroine of Meredith's--but a heroine at the end of the book. All had been written about her. She had played her mighty part, and knew that it was over.
He and he alone was not content, and wrote for her daily a trivial and impossible sequel.
Last time they had talked about Gerald. But that was some six months ago, when things felt easier. Today Gerald was the faintest blur. Fortunately the conversation turned to Mr. Pembroke and to education. Did women lose a lot by not knowing Greek? "A heap," said Rickie, roughly. But modern languages? Thus they got to Germany, which he had visited last Easter with Ansell; and thence to the German Emperor, and what a to-do he made; and from him to our own king (still Prince of Wales), who had lived while an undergraduate at Madingley Hall. Here it was.
And all the time he thought, "It is hard on her. She has no right to be walking with me. She would be ill with disgust if she knew.
It is hard on her to be loved."
They looked at the Hall, and went inside the pretty little church. Some Arundel prints hung upon the pillars, and Agnes expressed the opinion that pictures inside a place of worship were a pity. Rickie did not agree with this. He said again that nothing beautiful was ever to be regretted.
"You're cracked on beauty," she whispered--they were still inside the church. "Do hurry up and write something.""Something beautiful?"
"I believe you can. I'm going to lecture you seriously all the way home. Take care that you don't waste your life."They continued the conversation outside. "But I've got to hate my own writing. I believe that most people come to that stage--not so early though. What I write is too silly. It can't happen. For instance, a stupid vulgar man is engaged to a lovely young lady.
He wants her to live in the towns, but she only cares for woods.
She shocks him this way and that, but gradually he tames her, and makes her nearly as dull as he is. One day she has a last explosion--over the snobby wedding presents--and flies out of the drawing-room window, shouting, 'Freedom and truth!' Near the house is a little dell full of fir-trees, and she runs into it.
He comes there the next moment. But she's gone.""Awfully exciting. Where?"
"Oh Lord, she's a Dryad!" cried Rickie, in great disgust. "She's turned into a tree.""Rickie, it's very good indeed. The kind of thing has something in it. Of course you get it all through Greek and Latin. How upset the man must be when he sees the girl turn.""He doesn't see her. He never guesses. Such a man could never see a Dryad.""So you describe how she turns just before he comes up?""No. Indeed I don't ever say that she does turn. I don't use the word 'Dryad' once.""I think you ought to put that part plainly. Otherwise, with such an original story, people might miss the point. Have you had any luck with it?""Magazines? I haven't tried. I know what the stuff's worth. You see, a year or two ago I had a great idea of getting into touch with Nature, just as the Greeks were in touch; and seeing England so beautiful, I used to pretend that her trees and coppices and summer fields of parsley were alive. It's funny enough now, but it wasn't funny then, for I got in such a state that I believed, actually believed, that Fauns lived in a certain double hedgerow near the Cog Magogs, and one evening I walked a mile sooner than go through it alone.""Good gracious!" She laid her hand on his shoulder.
He moved to the other side of the road. "It's all right now. I've changed those follies for others. But while I had them I began to write, and even now I keep on writing, though I know better. I've got quite a pile of little stories, all harping on this ridiculous idea of getting into touch with Nature.""I wish you weren't so modest. It's simply splendid as an idea.
Though--but tell me about the Dryad who was engaged to be married. What was she like?""I can show you the dell in which the young person disappeared.
