McTaggart

“ He had not made a sound but that one warning snarl—until McTaggart took the step. And then, like a flash, he was up and in front of Nepeese, every hair of his body on end; and at the fury in his growl McTaggart lunged back against the barred door. A word from Nepeese in that moment, and it would have been over. But an instant was lost—an instant before her cry came. In that moment man’s hand and brain worked swifter than brute understanding; and as Baree launched himself at the Factor’s throat, there came a flash and a deafening explosion almost in the Willow’s eyes. ”

“ McTaggart walked down Harley Street, his blue eyes full of light, still hugging the consciousness of a new lease of life.
High above him an orange sun was swung in the misty heavens, putting to shame the wistful gleam of the pale lamps below, with their air of straggling revellers caught by the dawn. A carriage rolled down the street and was met by a passing taxi, and then, as he moved forward rejoicing to himself, into the foggy calm came a sudden stir of life: the sound of young voices, of laughter and light feet. ”

“ The fog was changing colour from a dirty yellow to opal, and the damp pavement was becoming visible as McTaggart moved forward with a quick stride that held an elasticity which it did not owe to elation.
He walked with an ease and lightness peculiar in an Englishman who, athletic as he may be, yet treads the earth with a certain conscious air of possessing it: a tall, well-built man, slender and very erect, but without that balanced stiffness, the hall-mark of "drill." ”

“ McTaggart's voice rang out.
Jill, clinging to the piebald's neck, with a fine show of ankles, her dark hair streaming back, looked like a Bacchante.
"Isn't it ripping?" Her motor veil swung loose, her fur cap slid back, and about her glowing face the straying curls blew. Her gray eyes like stars met McTaggart's open smile. Joy was in her heart.
The machine ran down. Panting, they descended.
"Now—the cocoanuts!" Roddy led the way to where a narrow screen of sacking protected the crowd of village folks from too violent an onslaught. ”

“ She would have a double right of entry in the Maramonte family circle and indulge to the full her love of intrigue.
Following up this train of thought, she smiled sweetly at McTaggart.
"You could not spare me one week now?—a little week before you return ...? At Fiesole—just think again. To abandon your poor aunt at once—one sees you do not care for her! ... Just seven days, Pietro mio, to leave me happily settled there?"
She drew back her veil and her velvet eyes, like darkest pansies, pleaded mutely. McTaggart summoned all his strength, conjuring up Cydonia. ”

“ Left to himself, McTaggart strolled about, stretching his long legs, cramped in the box.
A memory brought him back to the mantelpiece, and he sought for and found the faded photograph.
Once more he gazed at the sinister face, with its black beard and evil eyes. It held a curious fascination for him, repulsive and mesmeric at the same time. He saw that a name was written beneath, indistinct in violet ink, and holding it nearer to the light he deciphered "Gustave," with a slight start. Below it was a blotted date and then "Alger" clear and bright, where a frame had once protected the edge. ”

“ No—I mean it..." as McTaggart laughed—"a slack life's all wrong for a fellow like you. Now here I am, at it hard, every blessed day in the week. And what's the result? When I get a Saturday clear for a day's shoot or golf, you've no idea how I enjoy it. I'm like a school-boy at a bean-feast!"
"Bless you, my child," McTaggart mocked. "I don't grudge you your virtuous pleasure—go and paddle and make mud-pies—it keeps you nice and young—and fat!"
"Shut up!" Bethune made for the door—"Oh, by the way, would you like the car? If so ring up Central 609, and one of the men will bring it round. ”

“ But of one thing his black soul would never be able to free itself. Always he would see the pale, triumphant face of the Willow as she stood facing him in that moment of her glory when, even as she was choosing death rather than him, he had cried to himself: “Ah! Is she not wonderful!”
As Bush McTaggart had forgotten Baree, so Baree had forgotten the Factor from Lac Bain. When McTaggart had run along the edge of the chasm, Baree had squatted himself in the foot-beaten plot of snow where Nepeese had last stood, his body stiffened and his forefeet braced as he looked down. ”

“ McTaggart, honestly taken aback, sat there, dazed, finding no reply.
For Cadell was almost beside himself.
Cydonia to him was more than a daughter; she was the ideal of his work-a-day life: the crowning proof of his money's worth.
In the depths of his parental heart love was tinged with awe—the emotion he felt before a masterpiece.
That a man should dare ... under his own roof ... to hold her in his arms—to kiss her untouched mouth! Here was sacrilege. He shook McTaggart, his social veneer cracking apart. ”

“ Like a flash Baree had darted across the floor and fastened his teeth in the factor's leg. They had bitten deep before McTaggart freed himself with a powerful kick. With an oath he snatched his revolver from its holster. The Willow was ahead of him. With a little cry she darted to Baree and caught him in her arms. As she looked up at McTaggart, her soft, bare throat was within a few inches of Baree's naked fangs. Her eyes blazed.
"You beat him!" she cried. "He hates you—hates you—"
"Let him go!" called Pierrot in an agony of fear. ”

“ And all McTaggart's vanity and young virile pride were stirred by her silent call to his knight-errantry.
How he would like to snatch her away from her present feverish life! He braced himself between the sheets at the sudden stirring thought.
And then, with perplexing speed, another vision rose. He saw the face of Cydonia, with her childish smile. That was the right setting for a young girl, he decided, that cultured, shrine-like home, locked from the world outside.
For man still clings fondly to feudal memories. ”

“ McTaggart, watching her, caught into his memory an elusive dimple, near the fresh young mouth.
Following up the train of thought provoked by this miracle, he heard the doctor's voice once more, with a note of mischief, in his ears.
"Not married, are you, Mr. McTaggart? Well—you'd better take care ... a fair wife and a dark one..." He was certain, then and there, that his "Scotch heart" lay in Cydonia's hands. ”

“ Then, looking up and leaning back again in the chair: "But we need not go into all that. As I say, the great thing is to come to the point at once, isn't it?"
McTaggart was tired of standing up. He sat down in another chair, and said "Yes," with a look of expectancy not quite unmixed with approaching boredom.
"Well, Mr. McTaggart," went on the great statesman at last desperately, like a man who has determined to take a plunge. ”

“ And with the action, all unknown, he broke the insidious habit of years; the indecision of boyhood days changed to the firm control of the man.
The train rocked on....
In his berth above, McTaggart, restless, watched till the dawn filtered in between the blinds, pale shafts of primrose light.
He had only to lean and call her name to see those grey eyes open wide, filled with love—the love of a wife! But he fought it out, hour by hour. And as the sun stole over the edge of the long plains, white with frost, he turned on his pillow with a smile and was gathered in the arms of sleep. ”

“ McTaggart has gone under for good. It seems shameful, considering the excellent position on the British Intelligence into which he had been put on a weekly contract at fifteen pounds by the influence of the Home Secretary, who thought some reparation due to him, and still more by the influence of Victoria Mosel, who had squeezed Lord Bernstein's hand. On the other hand it hurts nobody but himself. He is still unmarried. ”

“ The noisy music faded away into darkness and silence and the rustling breeze. McTaggart drowsily closed his eyes, as the stars began to peer out of the heavens. His head sank lower, his thoughts became involved ... Then with a flash he came back to life. Awoke to find the lamps glowing about him, the hum of the traffic, the busy London streets, and, against the light, Bethune's broad back and the girl's clear profile like a silhouette.
Jill was chattering, plainly absorbed. ”

“ And at the sight McTaggart came to a sudden halt, conscious that he had received the answer to his prayer; that steadily growing wish for the presence of a friend to share in the new-born exuberance of his mood. ”

“ For not all the shabby clothes she wore, from the little squirrel cap which, with the tie about her throat, had seen better days, to the short tweed skirt revealing mended boots, could mar the spring-like radiance of her golden youth.
"You're a prim little school miss," said McTaggart teasingly.
"I'm not." She drew back, her head very high, the thick plait of dark hair swinging with the movement.
"You don't understand, you really are dense! I've told you heaps of times, not in Harley Street." ”

“ The men with their dark hair and wet olive skins, the women in bathing caps of gay knotted silk, with bare arms and necks and that flashing smile which seems the heritage of the white-toothed Southern race, suggested a frieze of laughing fauns and nymphs, gathered from the dusty walls of far Pompeii.
McTaggart himself was burnt the color of bronze. He looked the picture of health with his sinewy, well built frame and clean-cut face in which his blue eyes struck a curious Northern note, vivid and arresting. ”

“ Then, as it grew to a black speck and blurred into the distant view, she turned sharply, tears in her eyes.
"I can't bear leaving him!" she cried.
"It's not for long," said McTaggart gently. He ran a hand through the girl's arm. "Won't it be jolly after a bit to have him in Rome, living with us?"
"Yes." Jill swallowed hard. "You think we shall work it?—I'm rather doubtful."
"I'm not," said McTaggart stoutly. "I know Stephen. He's 'no proud!' The economy's sure to appeal to him. And Aunt Elizabeth's sworn to help. She's a brick, that old lady! Oh, by the bye, I'm to give you this." ”

“ Up till 1889 McTaggart continued to paint portraits of men and women, and in the case of a child or a family group it became his practice to unify the group or to give significance to the action of a single figure by fixing upon some simple incident — fishing in a highland burn, gathering flowers, playing on the shore, or idling on the sea-braes — thus investing the portrait with the spontaneity and charm of a picture. In 1889 McTaggart retired from Edinburgh to Broomieknowe, a beautifully situated village about six miles away, where he built a large studio in the garden. ”

“ He'll know you're from the Press—you look like it—and he'll think he's met you. Then slip it into his pocket, bully boy! Slip it into his pocket!"
And all the time McTaggart was saying within his own soul: "That's a brilliant idea! Now I don't suppose anyone else would have an idea like that! But, there! I'm always getting good ideas at the right time!"
He stalked his host and Collop round the top of the stairs and down the long passage above.
He saw the door open; he heard the Home Secretary say cheerfully, "There's a bath through that door. Have you got everything you want? ”

“ McTaggart laughed—"Won't she make a pretty one! I think she'll just love Siena—and Rome too—it's a ripping place! You'll have to come and stay with us. Oh, I forgot—about Roddy." He went on with his plans for the latter, his handsome face alight with pleasure. Miss Uniacke guessed in every word the depths of his love for the boy's sister.
"It's like a fairy tale!" she said.
"It is a fairy tale——" his voice was lowered now with a touch of awe.
"All true love is that, I think. It's outside this work-a-day world. Something too fine to be measured—like a beautiful vision seen in a dream..." ”

“ So, he would carry Jill away, borne on the flood tide of his love.
"Over that hill, sir," said the chauffeur—"is where the fire was—Miss Morgan's house—the Suffragettes, at it again—I expect you saw it in the papers?"
"Yes—confound them!" said McTaggart.
The man nodded, approving the sentiment.
"They say, sir, they're up to mischief to-day—going to upset the speech-making. I don't envy them if they does!"
The note in his voice spurred McTaggart's fears.
"A rough lot about here?"
"There'll be murder done," said the man grimly. "They don't stop at much when they're roused." ”

“ Jill went on defiantly, unconscious of the admiration in McTaggart's blue eyes. "And I don't see why his whole life should be ruined—just to please Mother! I told her so. And I tried, too, to show her that boys nowadays are allowed to choose their own professions. That it's prehistoric to say that until he's twenty-one she 'knows best'—He's a human being, like herself—and he's only got one life to live!
"Supposing Granny had said to Mother: 'My dear child, you must be an active Anti-Suffragette—that's my wish. I know best—I'm older than you,' d'you think she'd have stood it? Rather not! ”

“ And watching this matrimonial by-play McTaggart felt a growing scorn for the shallowness of the social life in which he found himself involved.
This Princess with her puny poet, who ruled her with a rod of iron, and Cesare, a mere school boy, eager for the latest scandal. The pretty woman by his side, playing her lover against her husband, and the Count, deliberately sacrificing his wife's morals to his own intrigues. ”