Marie Corelli

“ Why should a happy innocent little lad like Tom o' the Gleam's "Kiddie" have been hurled out of existence in a moment as it were by the mad speed of a motor's wheels,—and a fragile "toy" terrier, the mere whim of dog-breeders and plaything for fanciful women, be plucked from starvation and death as though the great forces of creation deemed it more worth cherishing than a human being! For the murder of Lord Wrotham, Helmsley found excuse,—for the death of Tom there was ample natural cause,—but for the wanton killing of a little child no reason could justly be assigned. ”

“ He'd never marry me with nothing at all of his own."
"Yet you would marry him?"
"I'm not sure that I would," and she lifted her hand with a prettily proud gesture. "You see, David, I really love him! And my love is too strong and deep for me to be so selfish as to wish to drag him down. I wouldn't have him lower his own self-respect for the world!"
"Love is greater than self-respect!" said Helmsley.
"Oh, David! You know better than that! There's no love without self-respect—no real love, I mean. There are certain kinds of stupid fancies called love—but they've no 'wear' in them!" ”

“ One figure alone was real,—one face alone smiled out of the cloudy vista of thoughts and memories, with the true glory of an ineffable tenderness—the sweet, pure face of Mary, with her clear and candid eyes lighting every expression to new loveliness. On Angus Reay his mind did not dwell so much—Angus was a man—and as a man he regarded him with warm liking and sympathy—but it was as the future husband and protector of Mary that he thought of him most—as the one out of all the world who would care for her, when he, David Helmsley, was no more. ”

“ You're only a dog, Charlie! You've no use for money! You rely entirely upon your own attractiveness and the kindness of human nature! And so far your confidence has not been misplaced. But your fidelity and affection are only additional proofs of the powerlessness of money. Money bought you, Charlie, no doubt, in the first place—but money failed to keep you! And now, though by your means Mary found me where I lay helpless and unconscious on the hills in the storm, I can neither make you richer nor happier, Charlie! You're only a dog!—and a millionaire is no more to you than any other man! ”

“ Publishers are his humble servants—waiting eagerly to snatch up his work that they may get all they can for themselves out of it,—and the public—the great public which, apart from all 'interested' critical bias, delivers its own verdict, is always ready to hearken and to applaud the writer of its choice. There is no more splendid and enviable life!—if I could only make a hundred pounds a year by it, I would rather be an author than a king! For if one has something in one's soul to say—something that is vital, true, and human as well as divine, the whole world will pause to listen. Yes, Mary! ”

“ Here he paused.
"How?" asked Vesey, with a half-smile. "What else is there to be done in this world except to get rich in order to live comfortably?"
"I know people who are not rich at all, and who never will be rich, yet who live more comfortably than I have ever done," replied Helmsley—"that is, if to 'live comfortably' implies to live peacefully, happily, and contentedly, taking each day as it comes with gladness as a real 'living' time. And by this, I mean 'living,' not with the rush and scramble, fret and jar inseparable from money-making, but living just for the joy of life. ”

“ If we did, we should probably be miserable. It's just because we are mysterious one to another, that we are so happy. No human being should ever try to analyse the fact of existence. It's enough that we exist—and that we love each other. Isn't it, Mary?"
"Enough? It is too much,—too much happiness altogether for me, at any rate," she said. "I can't believe in it yet! I can't really, Angus! Why should you love me?"
"Why, indeed!" And his eyes grew dark and warm with tenderness—"Why should you love me?" ”

“ Sweet and pungent odours of the field and woodland floated from the basket of herbs as it swung slightly to and fro on its bearer's shoulders, and amid the slowly darkening shadows of evening, a star of sudden silver brilliance sparkled out in the sky.
"Yon's the first twinkler," said Peke, seeing it at once, though his gaze was apparently fixed on the ground. "The love-star's allus up early o' nights to give the men an' maids a chance!"
"Yes,—Venus is the evening star just now," rejoined Helmsley, half-absently.
"Stow Venus! That's a reg'lar fool's name," said Peke surlily. ”

“ The fire crackled and burned with a warm Christmas glow, and Charlie, uncurling his soft silky body, stretched out each one of his tiny paws separately, with slow movements expressive of intense comfort. If ever that little dog had known what it was to lie in the lap of luxury amid aristocratic surroundings, it was certain that he was conscious of being as well off in a poor cottage as in a palace of a king. And after a minute or two, Helmsley raised himself in his chair and held out his hand to Angus Reay, who grasped it warmly. ”

“ I see it now!—I shall never forget it!"
"Enough to make you ill, poor dear!" said Mary, gently—"Don't think of it now! Try and sleep a little. You mustn't talk too much. Poor Tom is dead and buried now, and his little child with him—God rest them both! It's better he should have died than lived without anyone to love him in the world."
"That's true!" And opening his eyes widely again, he gazed full at her—"That's the worst fate of all—to live in the world without anyone to love you! Tell me—when I was delirious did I only talk of Tom o' the Gleam?" ”

“ She glanced at him quickly in a startled way, as though she had been suddenly wakened from a reverie.
"Oh no!" she answered—"I love to hear of a brave man's fight with the world—it's the finest story anyone can listen to."
Reay coloured like a boy.
"I'm not a brave man,"—he said—"I hope I haven't given you that idea. I'm an awful funk at times."
"When are those times?" and Mary smiled demurely, as she put the question.
Again the warm blood rushed up to his brows.
"Well,—please don't laugh! I'm afraid—horribly afraid—of women!"
Helmsley's old eyes sparkled. ”

“ They are answerable for a good deal in my life! They made me want to write bogle stories myself!"
"And do you write them?" asked Mary.
"Not exactly. Though perhaps all human life is only a bogle tale! Invented to amuse the angels!"
She smiled, and taking up a delicate piece of crochet lace, which she called her "spare time work," began to ply the glittering needle in and out fine intricacies of thread, her shapely hands gleaming like alabaster in the fire-light reflections.
"Well, now tell us your own bogle tale!" she said—"And David and I will play the angels!" ”

“ But, in any case, the slow and trudging movements of an old man must have lagged far, far behind those of the strong, fleet-footed gypsy to whom the wildest hills and dales, cliffs and sea caves were all familiar ground. Like a voice from the grave, the reply Tom had given to Matt Peke at the "Trusty Man," when Matt asked him where he had come from, rang back upon his ears—"From the caves of Cornwall! From picking up drift on the shore and tracking seals to their lair in the hollows of the rocks! All sport, Matt! I live like a gentleman born, keeping or killing at my pleasure!" ”

“ I cannot! This horrible money has parted us, Mary! More than that, it has robbed me of my energy for work—I cannot work without you—and I must give you up! Even if I could curb my pride and sink my independence, and take money which I have not earned, I should never be great as a writer—never be famous. For the need of patience and grit would be gone—I should have nothing to work for—no object in view—no goal to attain. Don't you see how it is with me? And so—as things have turned out—I must leave Weircombe at once—I must fight this business through by myself——"
"Angus!" ”

“ And, little by little, Helmsley struggled back to life,—life that was very weak and frail indeed, but still, life that contained the whole essence and elixir of being,—a new and growing interest. Little by little his brain cleared and recovered its poise,—once more he found himself thinking of things that had been done, and of things that were yet worth doing. Watching Mary Deane as she went softly to and fro in constant attendance on his needs, he was divided in his mind between admiration, gratitude, and—a lurking suspicion, of which he was ashamed. ”

“ I can do nothing for you—nothing!—you are David Helmsley's heiress, and with such wealth as he has left you, you might marry a prince of the royal blood if you cared—for princes are to be bought,—like anything else in the world's market! But you are not of the world—you never were—and now—now—the world will take you! The world leaves nothing alone that has any gold upon it! ”

“ No man has ever really loved me—because, of course, the one I was engaged to wouldn't have thrown me over just because I was poor if he had cared very much about me. And I shall be thirty-five this year—so I must—I really must"—and she gave herself an admonitory little shake—"settle down! After all there are worse things in life than being an old maid. I don't mind it—it's only sometimes when I feel inclined to grizzle, that I think to myself what a lot of love I've got in my heart—all wasted!"
"Wasted?" echoed Helmsley, gently—"Do you think love is ever wasted?" ”

“ Everything was explained in it—everything made clear; and gradually she realised the natural, strong and pardonable craving of the rich, unloved man, to seek out for himself some means whereby he might leave all his world's gainings to one whose kindness to him had not been measured by any knowledge of his wealth, but which had been bestowed upon him solely for simple love's sake. Every line Helmsley had written to her in this last appeal to her tenderness, came from his very heart, and went to her own heart again, moving her to the utmost reverence, pity and affection. ”

“ To feel that there is one at least in the world to whom you are more dear than to any other living being, is the very centralisation of life and the mainspring of action. For that one you will work and plan,—for that one you will seek to be noble and above the average in your motives and character—for that one you will, despite a multitude of drawbacks, agree to live. But without this melodious note in the chorus all the singing is in vain.
Led to his accustomed chair by the hearth, Helmsley sank into it restfully, and closed his eyes. ”

“ Tom o' the Gleam's presence was at all times more or less of a terror to the timorous, and that he, who as a rule avoided strangers, should on his own initiative enter into conversation with the two motorists, was of itself a circumstance that awakened considerable wonder and interest. David Helmsley, sitting apart in the shadow, could not take his eyes off the gypsy's face and figure,—a kind of fascination impelled him to watch with strained attention the dark shape, moulded with such herculean symmetry, which seemed to command and subdue the very air that gave it force and sustenance. ”

“ Vesey, more ceremoniously known as Sir Francis Vesey, one of the most renowned of London's great leading solicitors, looked at him and laughed.
"Talk out, my dear fellow, by all means!" he replied. "Especially if it will do you any good. But don't ask me to sympathise very deeply with the imaginary sorrows of so enormously wealthy a man as you are!"
"I don't expect any sympathy," said Helmsley. "Sympathy is the one thing I have never sought, because I know it is not to be obtained, even from one's nearest and dearest. Sympathy! Why, no man in the world ever really gets it, even from his wife. ”

“ For surely no one in the world could wish for a better life than we shall live—Angus and I—in this dear little cottage together,—he with his writing, which I know will some day move the world,—and I with my usual work, helping as much as I can to make his life sweet to him. For we have the great secret of all joy—we love each other! ”

“ The rich can pay. They can trample us down under their devilish motor-cars, and obliging juries will declare our wrongs and injuries and deaths to be mere 'accident' or 'misadventure'! But if they can kill, by God!—so can we! And if the law lets them off for murdering our children, we must take the law into our own hands and murder them in turn—ay! even if we swing for it!"
No one spoke. The women still sobbed convulsively, but otherwise there was a great silence. Tom o' the Gleam stretched forth his hands with an eloquent gesture of passion. ”

“ The shuddering sorrow of that low rhythmic boom of the waters rising and falling fathoms deep under cliffs which the darkness veiled from view, awoke echoes from the higher hills around, and David Helmsley, lifting his eyes to the countless planet-worlds sprinkled thick as flowers in the patch of sky immediately above him, suddenly realised with a pang how near he was to death,—how very near to that final drop into the unknown where the soul of man is destined to find All or Nothing! ”

“ And the little world—the only world that can be called a world,—namely, that special corner of the planet which holds the hearts that love us—a world which for him, the multi-millionaire, was just a tiny village with one sweet woman living in it—resembled a garland of flowers flung down from the rocks as though to soften their ruggedness,—a garland broken asunder at the shoreline, even as all earthly garlands must break and fade at the touch of the first cold wave of the Infinite. ”

“ And Reay's mellow laughter was so loud and long that Mary was quite infected by it, and laughed with him—"But you see millionaires are all marked men. Everybody knows them. Their portraits are in all the newspapers—horrid-looking rascals most of them!—Nature doesn't seem to endow them with handsome features anyway. 'Keep your gold, and never mind your face,'—she seems to say—'I'll take care of that!' And she does take care of it! O Lord! The only millionaire I ever saw in my life was ugly enough to frighten a baby into convulsions!"
"What was his name?" asked Helmsley. ”

“ And there is a very special rose that does not grow in earthly gardens, which I should like you to find and wear on your heart, Lucy,—I hope I shall see you in the happy possession of it before I die,—I mean the rose of love."
She lifted her head, and her eyes shone coldly.
"Dear Mr. Helmsley," she said, "I don't believe in love!"
A flash of amazement, almost of anger, illumined his worn features.
"You don't believe in love!" he echoed. "O child, what do you believe in, then?" ”

“ I,—who have seen Society,—the modern Juggernaut,—rolling its great wheels recklessly over the hopes and joys and confidences of thousands of human beings—I, who know that even kings, who should be above dishonesty, are tainted by their secret speculations in the money-markets of the world,—surely I may be permitted to rejoice for my few remaining days in the finding of two truthful and simple souls, who have no motive for their kindness to me,—who see nothing in me but age, feebleness and poverty,—and whom I have perhaps been the means, through God's guidance, of bringing together. ”

“ It was pleasant walking across the moor. The July sun was powerful, but to ageing men the warmth and vital influences of the orb of day are welcome, precious, and salutary. An English summer is seldom or never too warm for those who are conscious that but few such summers are left to them, and David Helmsley was moved by a devout sense of gratitude that on this fair and tranquil morning he was yet able to enjoy the lovely and loving beneficence of all beautiful and natural things. ”

“ For it was to me that Reay first spoke that day on the seashore—and it was at my request that he first entered Mary's home. Can this be the way in which Divine Wisdom has chosen to redeem me? I,—who have never been loved as I would have desired to be loved,—am I now instructed how,—leaving myself altogether out of the question,—I may prosper the love of others and make two noble lives happy? ”