The Dweller on the Threshold. Robert Hichens

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СКАЧАТЬ power of impressing their critical thoughts on others. These spread uneasiness around them like an atmosphere."

      "I know, I know," said the rector, with an almost hungry eagerness. "Now surely one ought to keep out of such an atmosphere, to get out of it, and to keep out of it."

      "Why not?"

      "But—but—how extraordinary it is, the difficulty men have in getting away from things! Haven't you noticed that?"

      "Want of moral strength," said Mailing, laconically.

      "You think so?"

      "Don't you?"

      At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mr. Harding started.

      "How impossible it is to get a quiet moment," he said with acute irritation. "Come in!" he called out.

      The footman appeared.

      "Mr. Chichester has called to see you, sir."

      The rector's manner changed. He beckoned to the man to come into the room and to shut the door. The footman, looking surprised, obeyed.

      "Where is he, Thomas?" asked Mr. Harding, in a lowered voice. "In the hall?"

      "No, sir. As you were engaged I showed him up into the drawing-room."

      "Oh, very well. Thank you. You can go."

      The footman went out, still looking surprised.

      Just as he was about to close the door his master said:

      "Wait a moment!"

      "Sir?"

      "Was her ladyship in the drawing-room?"

      "No, sir. Her ladyship is lying down in the boudoir."

      "Ah. That will do."

      The footman shut the door.

      Directly he was gone the rector got up with an air of decision.

      "Mr. Malling," he said, "perhaps I ought to apologize to you for treating you with the abruptness allowable in a friend, but surprising in an acquaintance, indeed in one who is almost a stranger. I do apologize. My only excuse is that I know you to be a man of exceptional trend of mind and unusual ability. I know this from Professor Stepton. But there's another thing. As I told you yesterday, you are the only person of my acquaintance who, having been fairly intimate with Henry Chichester, has not seen anything of him during the two years he has been with me as my coadjutor. Now what I want you to do is this: will you go upstairs and spend a few minutes alone with Chichester? Tell him I am detained, but am coming in a moment. I'll see to it that you are not interrupted. I'll explain to my wife. And, of course, I rely on you to make the matter appear natural to Chichester, not to rouse his—but I am sure you understand. Will you do this for me?"

      "Certainly," said Malling, with his most prosaic manner. "Why not?"

      "Why not? Exactly. There's nothing objectionable in the matter. But—" Mr. Harding's manner became very earnest, almost tragic. "I'll ask you one thing—afterward you will tell me the truth, exactly how Chichester impresses you now in comparison with the impression you got of him two years ago. You—you have no objection to promising to tell me?"

      Malling hesitated.

      "But is it quite fair to Chichester?" he said. "Suppose I obtained, for instance, a less favorable, or even an unfavorable impression of him now? You are his rector. I hardly think—"

      The rector interrupted him.

      "I'll leave it to you," he said. "Do just as you please. But, believe me,

       I have a very strong reason for wishing to know your opinion. I need it.

       I need it."

      There was a lamentable sound in his voice.

      "If I feel it is right I will give it to you," said Malling.

      The rector opened the door of the study.

      "You know your way?"

      "Yes."

      Malling went upstairs. Mr. Harding stood watching him from below till he disappeared.

III

       Table of Contents

      When Malling opened the door of the drawing-room Chichester was standing by one of the windows, looking out into Onslow Gardens. He turned round, saw Malling, and uttered an exclamation.

      "You are here!"

      His light tenor voice sounded almost denunciatory, as if he had a right to demand an explanation of Malling's presence in Mr. Harding's house, and as he came away quickly from the window, he repeated, with still more emphasis:

      "You are here!"

      "Lunching—yes," replied Malling, imperturbably.

      He looked at Chichester and smiled.

      "You have no objection, I hope?"

      His words and manner evidently brought the curate to a sense of his own unconventionality. He held out his hand.

      "I beg your pardon. Your coming in surprised me. I had no idea"—his blue eyes went searchingly over Malling's calm face—"that you could be here. I thought you and the rector were complete strangers till I introduced you yesterday."

      "So we were."

      Malling sat down comfortably on a sofa. His action evidently recalled

       Chichester's mind to the fact that he was to see the rector.

      "Isn't the rector coming to see me?" he asked.

      "Almost directly. He's busy for a few minutes. We were smoking together in his study."

      "You seem to—you seem to have made great friends!" said Chichester, with a sort of forced jocularity.

      "Great friends! They're hardly made in a moment. I happened to be at church this morning—"

      "At church—where?" exclaimed the curate.

      "At St. Joseph's. And Mr. Harding kindly asked me to lunch."

      "You were at church at St. Joseph's this morning?" said Chichester.

      He sat down by Malling and stared into his face.

      "Did you—did you stay for the sermon?"

      "Certainly. I came for the sermon. I had never heard Mr. Harding preach."

      "No? No? Well, what did you think of it? What did you think of it?"

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