AS SHE WALKED BRISKLY BETWEEN US from the park, a hand on the arm of each, I knew her instant recovery of health and high spirits must seem callous to Baxter; but though he was the sincerest man I ever met his ordinary new voice made me feel he was putting on an act when he said, “It is agony to find you treating me like a wrecked ship and McCandless like a life-boat, Bell. Your romances on the world tour were bearable because I knew they were transient. For nearly three years I have lived with and for you and wished that never to end.”
“I am not deserting you, God,” she told him soothingly, “or not right away. Candle is very poor so we’ll both find it handy to live with you for a long time. Turn your father’s old operating-theatre into a drawing-room for us and you will be a welcome guest whenever you call. And of course we will eat with you. But I am a very romantic woman who needs a lot of sex but not from you because you cannot help treating me like a child, and I cannot CAN NOT treat you like one. I am marrying Candle because I can treat him how I like.”
Baxter looked at me enquiringly. In a slightly ashamed voice I told him that though I had always tried to be a dour, independent sort of man Bella was correct: I had worshipped and longed for her from the moment he introduced us—everything about her seemed to me the acme of womanly perfection—I would gladly endure the most horrible agonies to save her from the smallest inconvenience. I added that Bella would always be able to do whatever she wanted with me.
Said Bella, “And Candle’s kisses are almost as strong as your yells, God, and would make me faint too if I was not a grown-up woman.”
Baxter nodded his head rapidly for several seconds then said, “I will help you both to do whatever you want but first please grant me one favour, a favour which may save my life. Do not see each other for a fortnight. Give me fourteen days to strengthen myself for the loss of you, Bell. I know you mean to keep me as a friendly convenience but you cannot foresee how marriage may change you, Bell—nobody can. Please grant me this. Please!”
His lips trembled, his mouth seemed shaping for another outcry, so we hurriedly agreed. I doubted if he could have screamed a second time as loudly as the first, but I feared that another sudden enlargement of his oral cavity would disconnect his spine and cranium.
Baxter stood with his back to us as we said good-bye under a street lamp. Bell murmured, “A fortnight for me is years and years and years.”
I told her I would write to her every day, and taking a tiny pearl mounted on a pin from the knot of my necktie I told her it was the only pretty thing, and the most expensive thing, I owned, and asked if she would keep it with her for ever and ever and think of me whenever she saw or touched it. She nodded her head violently seven or eight times, so I stuck it into the lapel of her jacket and told her this meant we were engaged to be married. I then begged her to give me her glove or scarf or handkerchief, any token whose texture or scent had been close to her person, making it a sacred relic of the covenant between us. She frowned thoughtfully then gave me the poke of gobstoppers saying, “Take the lot.”
I saw that to her still developing brain this was a noble sacrifice so there were tears in my eyes as I pressed my lips to the kidskin sheaths on her fingertips. I nearly put my lips to her lips, then remembered that if my mouth on her naked fingers nearly made her faint it would be wiser to wait for total privacy before I grew more ardent. Yet I hurried away enraptured by the wonderful adventure of living. If Baxter’s scream had been my most terrifying experience this moment was my sweetest. I was already devising phrases for the love-letter I would write when I got to my lodgings. I knew Baxter hoped that a fortnight apart from me would change her mind, but I had no fear of losing her because I knew he would submit her to no unkind pressure, would do nothing sneaking or dishonest. I also believed he could protect her from other men.
I performed my hospital duties in an absent-minded way for nearly a week. My imagination had awakened. The imagination is, like the appendix, inherited from a primitive epoch when it aided the survival of our species, but in modern scientific industrial nations it is mainly a source of disease. I had prided myself on lacking one, but it had only lain dormant. I now did what people expected of me but without rigour or enthusiasm, because I was composing love-letters in my head when not scribbling them down and running out to post them. I discovered that I possessed a strong poetic faculty. All my memories and hopes of Bella became rhyming sentences so easily that I often felt I was not composing them but remembering them from a previous existence. Here is a specimen:
O Bella fair, without compare,
My memory sweetly lingers
By Kelvin’s side (my future bride!)
Where first I kissed your fingers.
I have been blithe with comrades dear,
I have been merry drinking,
I have been joyful gathering gear,
I have been happy thinking,
I have known glee by pond and sea,
And spate that cleaves the mountain,
But known no glee (my bride to be!)
No joy so great (my future mate!)
As by the Memorial Fountain.
The many other verses I posted to her were equally spontaneous and equally good, and ended with stronger and stronger requests that she reply to me. I give verbatim the only reply I at last received. I was overjoyed by the bulk of the envelope it came in, which contained nearly a dozen sheets of notepaper. However, her writing was so huge that there was only room for a few words on each, though like the ancient Hebrews and Babylonians she had saved space by dispensing with vowels:
DR CNDL,
Y WNT GT MCH FRM M THS WY. WRDS DNT SM RL 2 M WHN NT SPKN R HRD. YR LTTRS R VRY LK THR MNS LV LTTRS, SPCLLY DNCN WDDRBRNS.
YRS FTHFLLY,
BLL BXTR.
By murmuring these consonants aloud I gradually made sense of everything but SPCLLY DNCN WDDRBRNS, and what I understood alarmed and disturbed me, because the only words which fed my hopes were the second last two which declared she was mine faithfully. This is a conventional business phrase, but Bella was neither conventional nor in business. Even so, I decided to break my word to Baxter and visit her as soon as possible. On leaving the Royal Infirmary to do so that evening I was hailed by Mrs. Dinwiddie, Baxter’s housekeeper, who was waiting for me at the gate in a cab. She handed me the following note, asking me to read it at once:
Dear McCandless,
I was mad to part you and Bella. Come at once. I have accidentally injured all three of us in a terrible way. Only you, perhaps, may save us if you come here quickly, tonight, before sunset, as soon as possible.
Your miserable and, believe me,
Sincerely repentant friend;
Godwin Bysshe Baxter.
I leapt into the cab, was carried to Park Circus and rushed into the downstairs drawing-room crying, “What is wrong? Where is she?”
“Upstairs in her bedroom,” said Baxter, “and not ill, and all too happy. Try to be calm, McCandless. Hear the whole ghastly story from me before attempting to change her mind. If you need a drink I can offer you a glass of vegetable juice. Port is out of the question.”
I sat down and stared at him. He said, “She is waiting to elope with Duncan Wedderburn.”
“Who?”
“The worst man possible—a smooth, handsome, well-groomed, plausible, unscrupulous, lecherous lawyer who specialized—until last week—in seducing women of the servant class. He is too lazy to live by honest toil. Besides, a legacy from a doting old aunt has made toil unnecessary. He pays for his gambling losses and grimy amours by charging improperly high fees for slightly improper jobs on the shady side of the law. Bella now loves him, not you, McCandless.”
“How did they meet?”
“The morning after she got engaged to you I decided to make a will leaving her everything I own. I visited a very respectable elderly lawyer, an old friend of my father. When he asked about Bell’s exact relationship to me I answered in a confused manner for I suddenly suspected—without being absolutely certain—that he knew too much about the Baxter family to believe the story I told my servants. I blushed, stammered, then pretending an anger I did not feel declared that since I was paying for his services I saw no reason to answer impertinent questions which cast doubts on my honesty. I wish I had not said that! But I was flustered. He replied very coldly that he had only questioned me to ensure my will could not be contested by some other relative of Sir Colin; that he had served the Baxter family for nearly three generations, and if I could not trust his discretion I should go elsewhere. I longed to tell that good old man the whole truth, McCandless, but he would have thought me a lunatic. I apologized and left.
“I saw that the secretary who showed me out had been listening at his master’s keyhole, for he was far less obsequious than when he showed me in. I detained him in the corridor to the front door, taking out a sovereign and absent-mindedly fingering it. I said his master was too busy to do a piece of work for me—could he recommend someone else? He whispered the name and address of a solicitor who worked from a private house on the south side. I tipped the scoundrel and took a cab there. Alas, Wedderburn was in. I explained what I wanted and said I would pay extra to have it as soon as possible. He asked for no more information than I gave him. I was grateful. I admired his good looks and suave manner, and knew nothing then about the black iniquity of his soul.
“He called here the following day with copies of the will for signature. Bella was with me, here, in this room, and welcomed him with her usual effusiveness. His response was so cool, remote and condescending that it obviously hurt her. That annoyed me though I did not show it. I rang for Mrs. Dinwiddie to act as witness and the documents were signed and sealed while Bell sulked in a corner. Wedderburn then handed me his bill. I left the room to fetch the guineas from my strongbox and I promise you, McCandless, I returned in four minutes or less. I was glad to see that, although Mrs. Dinwiddie had now also left the room and Wedderburn seemed as cool as ever, Bella was again chattering as brightly as usual. And that, I thought, was the last of Duncan Wedderburn. This morning over the breakfast table she cheerfully told me that for the last three nights he has visited her bedroom after the servants retire. An imitation owl-hoot is his midnight signal, a lit candle in the window is hers, then up goes a ladder and up goes he! And tonight two hours from now she will elope with him unless you change her mind. Try to be calm, McCandless.”
I had grasped my hair with both hands and now I wrenched at it crying, “O what have they DONE together?”
“Nothing whose outcome you need dread, McCandless. I noticed her romantic nature quite early on our world tour, and in Vienna paid a highly qualified woman to teach her the arts of contraception. Bell tells me Wedderburn is versed in them too.”
“Have you not told her how evil and treacherous he is?”
“No, McCandless. I only discovered that this morning when she told me how evil and treacherous he is. The cunning fiend has seduced her with accounts of his debaucheries with all the women he has cheated and betrayed, and not just women, McCandless! He has indulged in an orgy of confession—she says it was as good as a book—and of course he declares that love of her has purified his life and made a new man of him and he will never abandon her. I asked if she believed this. She said not much but nobody had ever abandoned her before and the change might do her good. She also said that wicked people needed love as much as good people and were much better at it. Go to her McCandless and prove her wrong.”
“I am going,” I said, standing up, “and when Wedderburn arrives, Baxter, set your dogs on him. He is a burglar with no legal right here.”
Baxter stared at me with the distaste and amazement he would have shown had I told him to crucify Wedderburn on the spire of Glasgow Cathedral. He said reproachfully, “I must not thwart Bell, McCandless.”
“But Baxter, she has a mental age of ten! She is a child!”
“That is why I must not use force. If I hurt someone she loves her liking for me will turn to fear and distrust and my life will have no purpose. It will still have a purpose if I keep a house for her to return to when she tires of Wedderburn, or he of her. But maybe you can stop either happening. Go to her. Woo her. Tell her it is with my blessing.”