Queer Classics – 10 Novels Collection. Radclyffe Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ hour they vainly tried to anticipate comes round.”

      Dreeme’s attention refused to be averted from his own case by such speculations.

      “I have been struggling with dark waters, — dark waters, Mr. Byng,” said he.

      “Churm’s very phrase to describe his sorrow,” I thought. “Who knows but Dreeme’s grief is the same?”

      “Struggling like a raw swimmer,” he continued. “And when I was drowning, I find you sent to give me a friendly hand. It is written that I shall not die with all my work undone. No, no. I shall live to finish.”

      He spoke with strange energy, and turned toward his easel as he closed.

      “You refer to your picture,” said I, pleased to see his artist enthusiasm kindle so soon.

      “My picture!” he rejoined, a little carelessly, as if it were of graver work he had thought. “How does it promise? I have put my whole heart into it. But hand cannot always speak loud enough or clear enough to interpret heart.”

      “Hand has not stammered or mumbled here,” I replied. “My first glance showed me that. But I must have daylight to study it as it deserves. Am I right in recognizing you as the Cordelia of the piece?”

      “For lack of a better model, I remodelled myself, and intruded there in womanly guise. My work is unfinished, as you see; but if you had not interposed to-night, I should have painted no more.” He shuddered, and seemed to grow faint again at the thought of that desolate death he had hardly escaped.

      “Let me cheer you with a fresh dose of vitality,” said I. “A little more Lusitanian sun in crystal of Venice.”

      This time he was strong enough himself to raise the cup to his lips. He sipped, and smiled gratefully; — and really a patient owes some thanks to a doctor who restores him with nectar smooth and fragrant, instead of rasping his throat and flaying his whole interior with the bitters sucked by sour-tempered roots from vixenish soils.

      “It was a happy fate, a kind Providence,” said Dreeme, “that sent to me in my extremity a gentleman whose touch to mind and body is fine and gentle as a woman’s.”

      “Thank you,” rejoined I. “But remember that I am only acting as Mr. Churm’s substitute. I hope you will let me bring him to you in the morning.”

      “No,” said he, almost with rude emphasis.

      I looked at him in some surprise. “You seem to have a prejudice against the name,” I remarked.

      “Why should I? I merely do not wish to add to my list of friends.”

      “But Mr. Churm is the very ideal friend, — stanch as oak, true as steel, warm and cheery as sunshine, eager as fresh air, tender as midsummer rain. Do let me interest him in you. He is just the man to befriend a lonely fellow.”

      Dreeme shook his head, resolutely and sadly.

      “You seem to mistrust my enthusiasm,” I said.

      “It is tragic to me,” he returned, “to hear a generous nature talk so ardently of its friendships. Have you had no disappointments? Has no one you loved changed and become abased?”

      “One would almost say you were trying to shake my faith in my friend.”

      “Why should I? I speak generally.”

      Here the partition-door of the lobby without opened, and we heard footsteps.

      “Friend Locksley, with some supper for you,” said I, half annoyed at the interruption of our tête-à-tête.

      “How kind! how thoughtful of you both!” and tears started in Dreeme’s eyes as he spoke.

      A Mild Orgie

       Table of Contents

      Locksley came boldly in, breathlessly.

      “All right, I see, Mr. Dreeme,” he panted.

      “All right, Locksley! thanks to you and Mr. Byng.”

      “I’ve been gone,” says the janitor, “long enough to make all the shifts of a permutation lock.”

      He deposited a huge basket on the table.

      “Bagpypes’s was shut,” he continued. “So was De Grope’s. I had to go up to Selleridge’s. He’s an open-all-night-er. Selleridge’s was full of fire-company boys, taking their tods after a run. Selleridge couldn’t stop pouring and mixing and stirring and muddling. ‘Firemen comes first,’ says he. ‘They’ve got to have their extinguishers into ’em.’ So I jumped up on the counter, and says I, ‘Boys, I’ve got a sick man to oyster up, and if he ain’t oystered up on time he’ll be a dead shell.’ So the red flannels drawed off, like real bricks. I got my oysters, and came away like horse-power.”

      Locksley took breath, and began to arrange his vivers on the table.

      “Six Shrewsburys,” he pronounced, bestowing their portly shells before him. “For a roast, if Mr. Dreeme likes. Twelve Blue-Pointers, every one little as a lady’s ear. Them for a stew, if Mr. Dreeme likes better. Paper of mixed crackers, — Boston butters, Wilson’s sweets, and Wing’s pethy. Pad of butter. Plate of slaw, ready vinegared. I wanted to leave the slaw; but Selleridge said, ‘No; slaw and oysters was man and wife, and he shouldn’t be easy in his mind if he sent one out and kep’ the other.’ And here’s some Scotch ale, in a scrumptious little stone jug, to wash all down.”

      “You will appall Mr. Dreeme’s invalid appetite with these piles of provender,” said I.

      “On the contrary, my spirits rise with the sight of a banquet and guests to share it,” Dreeme returned.

      “Nibble on a Wing’s pethy,” says Locksley, handing the crackers, “while I plant a Shrewsbury to cook in the stove.”

      “I did not know how ravenous I was,” Dreeme said, taking a second “pethy.”

      “Dora had a hearty cry,” says the janitor, “because she couldn’t get any word when she came up with your meals to-day, Mr. Dreeme.”

      “Poor child! I heard her knock in the morning; but I was half asleep, and too weak to answer. All at once my strength, ignorantly over tasked, had failed. Later, I managed to struggle up and dress myself. Then I found my way to this arm-chair before my picture. There I sat all day, sometimes unconscious, sometimes conscious of a flicker of life. Dora came with my dinner. I heard her knock. When I perceived that I could not speak or stir in answer, utter desolation darkened down upon me. I felt myself sink away, and seemed to drown, slowly, slowly, without pain or terror. Immeasurable deeps of space crushed me. But by and by I felt my course reversed. I was rising, slowly as I had sunk. At last I knew the pang and thrill of life. I woke and saw Mr. Byng restoring me.”

      Dreeme recited this history with strange impassiveness.

      “You take it pretty cool,” says Locksley. “It seems as if you СКАЧАТЬ