asked the Sea Lady. asked the Sea Lady _Frontispiece_
"Stuff that the public won't believe aren't facts" 81
She positively and quietly settled down with the Buntings 90
A little group about the Sea Lady's bath chair 134
"Why not?" Quite
naturally they would be. Miss Glendower became
aware of a crisis and descended the steps, "Sir George Tressady" in one
hand and the other shading her eyes, crying in her clear resolute voice,
"She must be saved!" said Fred. This he did, as he
explains, "to get my legs down, you know. "Cramp," she said, "I have cramp." she asked him. "We're saving you now," he said. "Carry me in." gasped Fred. "Carry me into the house," she whispered to him. Miss Glendower, I believe, was the person who was last
to see it. they cried. Indeed it was conspicuous. First of all their heads came, and then their remarks. "The only thing," said she, "is to carry her indoors." And in his arms the Sea Lady. from the garden end. She admitted as much in several later conversations with my
cousin Melville. For a time there was a friendly intimacy--so Melville
always preferred to present it--between these two, and my cousin, who
has a fairly considerable amount of curiosity, learnt many very
interesting details about the life "out there" or "down there"--for the
Sea Lady used either expression. "We know," she said. They form indeed a
distinct reading public, and additions to their vast submerged library
that circulates forever with the tides, are now pretty systematically
sought. "_They_ know it," said Melville. In other ways the beaches yield. He made some sort of
suggestion. said my cousin Melville. said the Sea Lady. said my cousin Melville. "And then you know," said the Sea Lady very gravely, "one's hair!" "Of course," said Melville. There are wider seas than ever keel sailed upon, and deeps that
no lead of human casting will ever plumb. When it is all summed up, I
have to admit, I do not know, I cannot tell. "And then and there," said Mrs. Bunting, when she told the story to my
cousin Melville, "the poor child burst into tears and confessed she had
been born ages and ages ago in some dreadful miraculous way in some
terrible place near Cyprus, and had no more right to a surname-- Well,
_there_--!" "Of course," said my cousin Melville, "there are classes of people in
whom one excuses-- One must weigh----"
"Precisely," said Mrs. Bunting. "Exactly--yes. To get a soul. Any more than _we_ are. "She wants to be treated exactly like a human being, to _be_ a human
being, just like you or me. And she asks to stay with us, to be one of
our family, and to learn how we live. She wants me to
advise her about it all. She wants to put herself altogether in my
hands. And she asked it all so nicely and sweetly. She wants me to
advise her about it all." "Um," said my cousin Melville. "Practically it's another daughter," he reflected. "Yes," said Mrs. Bunting, "and even that did not frighten me. She
admitted as much." he inquired abruptly. "Ample. She told me there was a box. Yes, gold--and diamonds, Mr. Melville. And all the gold things
with just a sort of faint reddy touch.... "The tail, you know." "And she really has ... a tail?" he asked. "It's a most extraordinary situation," he said. "Of course the thing's a tremendous experiment," said my cousin
Melville, and repeated quite inadvertently, "_a tail!_"
Clear and vivid before his eyes, obstructing absolutely the advance of
his thoughts, were the shiny clear lines, the oily black, the green and
purple and silver, and the easy expansiveness of a mackerel's
termination. "I patted it," said Mrs. Bunting. "Yes. And the other two girls are friends, you know, visitors who are
staying with me. "Oh yes." Bunting." "Who is Mr. "The other gentleman who----"
"_No!_"
"There was no one----"
"But several mornings ago?" "Could it have been Mr. Melville?... "I fancy he did," said the Sea Lady. "He's not my son. He's--he's a friend. He was stopping here for a night or so. "Yes," said Mrs. Bunting, "that's the one. said the Sea Lady. "Of course," said Mrs. Bunting. "Oh--of _course_. "After _such_ a journey," said Mrs.
Bunting. For a time they played croquet in
a half-hearted way, each no doubt with an eye on the boudoir window. (And as for Mr. Bunting, he was in bed.) "Quite." she remarked. "Oh, quite," said the Sea Lady. "It's so different," said the Sea Lady. "There are no nights and days, you know. "Of course!" Miss Glendower hazarded a supposition that the sea
people also had their Problems, and then it would seem the natural
earnestness of her disposition overcame her proper attitude of ladylike
superficiality and she began to ask questions. "One
wants to see it, one wants to _be_ it. asked the Sea Lady. asked the Sea Lady. "Of course," she said, and then with a transition
that made pursuit difficult, she agreed with Adeline. "It _is_
different," she said. One feels so alike, you know,
and so different. asked Miss Glendower. "Very charming things, I
suppose." For a time at least they positively
succeeded in converting the Sea Lady into a credible human invalid, in
spite of the galaxy of witnesses to the lady's landing and in spite of
the severe internal dissensions that presently broke out. He had some reputation, I say--and he had staked it. There are things one doesn't believe even if they are printed in a
halfpenny paper. All the Buntings and Mabel were aghast, simply aghast. "It's horrid. "No, no," said Mr. Bunting terrified. "But the Ded--" said Fred. "I couldn't," said Mr. Bunting. said Fred. "Altogether." "How?" "You leave it to me," said Melville, in his element. "We knew it was some sort of hoax, you know. At Folkestone." Banghurst turned away from him and pawed at his pen tray. Banghurst remained an obstinate expansion of back. "How?" "We don't deal in mermaids here." "I am." "But there she is!" "Let her be." See?... And all that. Banghurst shrugged his shoulders over a hopeless case. It's a beastly lot of copy to
get slumped, you know." "Nohow," said Banghurst. "Not in any shape. No! Banghurst suggested an alternative. Once distinctly
I saw him beckon to a man, but the man did not respond. "Ra-ther," he said. "Ugh," he said as soon as he was free to do so. I ventured. I said, when he had done. "Yes," said Micklethwaite. I said. "Silly fool," said Micklethwaite. "He leads you on to argue," he said. "And then he shows you he can. I asked. said Micklethwaite, growing very red. He seemed to ask mutely whether I of all people proposed to turn
on him and back up this infamous scoundrel. I've got most of it here," he was saying as we went
by. "I don't know if you'd care----"
"I get very little time for reading, sir," the waiter was replying. "Of course," said Mrs. Bunting, "she will never be able to _bicycle_
again----"
That was the sort of glamour she threw about it. Indeed, Mem! Except--you
understand, there is a need of--discretion." "Of course, Mem," said Parker, as who should say, "there always is." "Precisely, Mem!" "There are stockings, Mem," she said in a discreet undertone, behind,
but not too vulgarly behind, a fluttering straight hand. "But----!" "I couldn't think of it, sir," she said. "I should see you didn't lose by it, you know." "I couldn't think of it, sir," she repeated. She added after an interval, "She stops my working." "But, my dear!" "She's out of harmony," said Adeline. You know how
enthusiastic we all are. "She might help even." "Oh, help!" "She might canvass. "Not to me," said Miss Glendower. "But to some people. And besides, she wouldn't help." She wants to go
into it quite deeply. "Oh, she doesn't contradict. Down there, out there, she may be anything. "Besides--coming here! "You could hardly help yourself. There are different
ways of looking at things. You judge her hastily. Miss Glendower had two little pink flushes in her cheeks. Now especially. "It is a digression. She divides things. She
puts it all wrong. Miss Glendower opened her mouth and shut it again, without speaking. After all, I never saw Adeline at all until
after all these things were over, and what is she now? Adeline, he asserts,
was absolutely built on her. But I don't believe for a moment in this
idea of girls building themselves on heroines in fiction. "Here he is,"
she said abruptly. "Your other son," said the Sea Lady, jesting unheeded. I forgot," and introduced
them. "Oughtn't they to see me play it out, Mr. "Hullo, Harry, my boy!" said Harry. Then every one woke up to this, as it
were, and they went off in a volley. into the tangle of
sounds. "Oh, yes!" "If they had any sense," said Mr. Bunting. And the Irish. How? Why,--we've stood aside. We've let
it down. "It is a great issue." she asked. "This," he said to begin
with. He seemed indeed quite interested in Mr. Bunting's view of the
case. he said. "For Miss Glendower," said Melville. said Chatteris. asked the Sea Lady. "Land tenure," said Melville. It's fun. And I want to help. "I mean to help anyhow," said the Sea Lady. asked Melville. asked Melville. "I haven't asked that," said Chatteris. "Smuggling is over and past,
you know. Really, I doubt if there ever was any
smuggling. cried the Sea Lady. He grasped her
difficulty. he suggested. "Yes, in a paper," she said, seizing the rope he threw her. That's my line, of course." And he looked out to sea. "Quite," said the Sea Lady. "She is." Imagined--anyhow. "It's strange, too. "Mystery." You get an effect. And that is all you are meant to get,
I suppose. She gets an effect. But how--that's the mystery. But not of these
effects. The eyes, I fancy." A bold
discord. "How?" "He ought to know." "I'm not so sure of that. "Complex business--feminine motives," he remarked. "How?" "This canvassing. And besides, it's a personal matter." "Not necessarily, is it? If _you_ can get interested----"
"Oh, I know." "They
all have it. said Chatteris, and quickened his steps. * * * * *
They found Adeline busy amidst her papers. This,
however, is a digression. Anyhow, his cigarettes were produced. "I suppose _you_--" he said. He glanced at Parker and then met the Sea Lady's regard. He took the only course. Quids, I think they call it. "Mrs. she asked. "She wouldn't mind--" said Melville, and stopped. She smiled at him over a little jet of smoke. "Why, this," she said. "And dressing." She smiled again after a momentary hesitation. asked the Sea Lady. "It was worth coming for," said the Sea Lady, smiling into his eyes. "Life," he said, "isn't all--this sort of thing." "Sunlight. Cigarette smoking. Talk. Looking nice." "Besides--" he said. He looked up and her eyes were smiling. "Mr. Melville," she said, innocently, "what _is_ a soul?" "Well," said my cousin readily, and then paused for a space. "A soul," he repeated, and glanced at Parker. "To any one," said my cousin Melville, suddenly admitting his
difficulty. "No," she answered, "I don't." "Every one." "Mrs. "Certainly." "And Mr. "Every one." "Lots." "Mr. Melville," she said, "what is a union of souls?" "It's an extra," he said. "Decidedly," he said. Then he spoke again. he said. "Yes," said she. "I thought so," said Melville. "You want to talk about him." "Well, _I_ don't." "But I will if you wish it." "I thought you would." She admitted, "Yes." But I don't see why
you----"
He went off at a tangent. "Oh, no." "I
don't see why you came," he said. "Nor what you mean to do. she said. "Well, isn't there?" "That's just it," she said. "And besides after all, you know, why should you----?" That is what I _want_ to know." "To any one." "Why?" I don't know why we cannot,
but we cannot. And you, out of the
elements, come and beckon----"
"The elements have their rights," she said. And then: "The elements are
the elements, you know. That is what you forget." "Certainly. "Are all imagination. There isn't any other." You
daren't, you mustn't, you can't. "Oh, yes. We watch you, and sometimes we envy you. The
little time you have, you use so poorly. he insisted. "But how--?" "One might think of obstacles," he reflected. "He's not hers," she said. "In a way, he's trying to be," said Melville. He has to be what he is. "She's
not _real_," she went on. She gets herself out of a book. "As real as she can make it, you know. But she isn't real herself. "And he, you know----"
"He doesn't believe in it." "I'm not so sure." "I am--now." "He will ravel out," said the Sea Lady. He added
abruptly, "We all are." "What you too are beginning to suspect.... That other things may be
conceivable even if they are not possible. "I know nothing of any other dreams," he said. Anyhow, we are in the dream--we have to accept it. Besides, you
know, that's going off the question. We were talking of Chatteris, and
why you have come for him. Why should you come, why should any one
outside come--into this world?" Why should we abstain?" "If he pleases me." "But look here, you
know," he said. "Well, why
not?" she asked. "And go about in a bath chair, and-- No, that's not it. He looked up into her eyes, and it was like looking into deep water. She smiled at him. "No!" You burn too fast,
you flare and sink and die. No.... "But there is an escape," said the Sea Lady. "How?" "For some there is an escape. He glanced up at her abrupt pause, and she was looking at the house. * * * * *
"Do ... ris! Do ... ris! He looked at the Sea Lady as if he were already incredulous of the
things they had said, as if he had been asleep and dreamed the talk. Some light seemed to go out, some fancy faded. he asked. He found himself taking up and scrutinising, as it were, first this
remembered sentence and then that. Melville." "You've a monopoly now," she cried. "No!" And then again, "No! I figure the respectful
pause, the respectful enquiry. he said. asked Melville. He looked about him rather helplessly. Suddenly he plunged into intimacy. "Yes." He lit his cigarette. he asked. "Not a bit of it," said Melville. "But then it's not my line." Miss Glendower----"
"I know," said Chatteris. I'm off colour. He did a very absurd thing. None
of these things interest me really," he said. "At least, not just now." They form your character. They rule your
mind. They rush you into it." "They didn't rush me," said Melville. "They rushed me, anyhow. "Well-- Look what it is." "First of all, the messing about to get into the House. They're
working in their way, just as you are working in your way. "The condition of the poor," he said. said Chatteris, regarding him with a sort of stony admission in
his blue eyes. said Chatteris after a pause. It was running up against you, set me off. "The interest is dead," he said,
"the will has no soul." I do. There is work to be done, sound work, and important
work. "I don't want to do it. asked Melville. "All this, you know, is a mood. "Heaps," said Melville. "Much," said Chatteris defiantly. "Ever so much," endorsed Melville. he asked,
after a pause. "Been fishing." "Of course. "_She's_ quite well," he said. he asked. "A very charming person," said Melville and said no more. "Well, you do know. And the others know. he asked. "That's just it," said Chatteris. "She has had them," he said. "I don't care, if she has." "Vague things. "Well," said Melville, and at the moment he had really decided to tell
Chatteris. The matches were of some
specially large, heavy sort. "Well, tell me--anyhow." "It's no good," he groaned at last. "He might be one of these here guests," said the hall-porter, greatly
shocked. said he. And then as the whole outburst came into focus, he said with still more
emphasis, "Confound the fellow!" urged my cousin, "of the common lot of men. "No," he said suddenly, "I am not _mawbid_ either. I don't look too deeply into things, and I don't look too widely
about things. "_Come down. Urgent. he asked casually. he said. "Gone." "Lord, no! With her maid. Took a suite." "Harry." "It broke out," said Fred. "The row. "Rather. Mooney. Loose ends. Asked questions. Next day, went off. London. She asked
what was up. Then--wrote to her." "No, the mater did. Said, 'I've been very much deceived in you, Miss Waters--very
much indeed.' "Asked her to go. "Well, words to that effect." Oh, she's been going it. _I_ know. It's all very well. "Such a go, you know. And the girls. All making the very most they can of it. For holidays." asked Melville a little grimly. Stuck." "Rather. Stuck and set about." he asked. "I do that much," said Fred. "Middle of the stage, I suppose," said Fred. Puts it off. You know." "Naturally," said Melville, rather inconsecutively. "Doesn't stir." "We don't know. Aunts they are chiefly." "Aunts. Say, they've rallied round him. Like vultures. "Practically. "None." Of course, he was a bit out of breath and embarrassed. "They're taking it in. Tell me that, Mrs. Bunting. Pretty mess all round, eh?" "I suppose the aunts will tell him?" "About the tail." "I suppose they will." "I don't know. Stir it up a bit, I expect. "But--" said Melville. "I telegraphed," she said. "They'll get luncheon as usual,"
she said. "You can _not_ imagine," she
said. "You must tell me," said Melville. "I simply do not know what to do. I don't know where to turn." She protested. "All that I did, Mr. Melville, I did for
the best. I saw there was trouble. I could see that I had been
deceived, and I stood it as long as I could. "And every one," she said, "blames me. Every one." "I'll try not to," she said bravely. "We all look to you," she said. "I don't know what I should do without
you." "That's it," said Melville. "Go to her. He--he
hectors." exclaimed Melville. Often--many times I have had to
interfere.... No, it is you. You know Harry so well. He trusts you. We know he is infatuated, that is all. "It was Addy. "Yes." she asked. "You know--all?" she asked. "All the outline, anyhow." "I feel," she said, "that it isn't coarseness." "Certainly not," said Melville. asked Melville. "Three times," she said, looking up. "I had to ask him," she said. "What he felt for her and what he felt for me." No, I don't understand." He believed in
it. "He does," said Melville. "Relatively--yes." "It is so strange," she sighed. "It is so inconsistent. I feel very much older,
very much wiser than he is. I cannot help it. She reflected profoundly. She smiled a wan smile. "But she would not. she said. "No.... He wants to come back to me." "And you----"
"He doesn't come." "There are times," she said, "when it seems to me that my love for him
is altogether dead.... "I suppose he may," she said slowly and without colour. she insisted. "There are impalpable things," waived Melville. I--I want to know." "You are a man; you know him; you know all sorts of things--all sorts of
ways of looking at things, I don't know. "Well," said Melville and stopped. She hung over him as it were, as a tense silence. "Yes, I know, but how?" "Well----"
"Tell me." "You are austere. Life comes at him, with limitations and
regulations. "Go on," she said, "go on." "You are too much--the agent general of his duty." "Don't mind my vanity now," she cried. "Tell me." You have made it clear
to him what you expect him to be, and what you expect him to do. You--you have the
quality----"
He hesitated. "Go on," she insisted. "Of an edifice.... I don't want to go out. But he is
different." "Yes," she said, "he is different." For a time it seemed that Melville's interpretation had hold of her. "Of course," she said, thinking as she looked at him. "Yes. Yes. After all, that
is--an analogy. "Decidedly," said Melville. "After all," she said, "he must come back--if I let him come back. "No--he couldn't. But her face was attentive. "What you do
not understand," he went on, "what no one seems to understand, is that
she comes----"
"Out of the sea." "Out of some other world. "I do not know what way. she whispered. "Into the deeps." Melville sought vagueness with infinite
solicitude, and could not find it. He blurted out at last: "There can
be but one way out of this dream we are all dreaming, you know." "You mean," she said, with a pale face, half awakened to a new thought,
"the way is----?" Melville shirked the word. "But how--?" she asked. "No coming back?" she said. "No coming back," said Melville. she doubted. "That desire is desire, and the deep the deep--yes." "Mr. Melville," she said, "you know I don't understand. she asked. he said. "I don't know." "Yes.... "I know." "No." "Those things, you know, are only fainter dreams. "He might come back--" he said, and looked at her and stopped. "And----?" "No! Tell him I want him. No! I do not want him. He is not mine and he may go." He looked at her. No! He nodded. "You mean," she insisted, "you mean----?" She winced, and remained looking into his eyes. Then she spoke again. "Mr. Melville, tell him to come back to me." "And----?" "But--" said Melville. He glanced at her and went down. "I walk," she said. He found himself walking. "I beg your pardon," he said. "She's an old friend of mine," said Melville. "Quite possibly," said Lady Poynting Mallow. "Mermaid, I gather," said Melville. "Tail." "Complete." "Certain." The lady reflected. Melville saw no necessity for a reply. she asked abruptly. "No. I know all about her. "Yes, the mermaid. "Oh, _she_--Very considerable means. Galleons. And now will you tell me, Mr. Melville, why
shouldn't Harry have her? "It's no objection. Why shouldn't he have
her?" "Why?" "She's an immortal, for example,
with a past." he said. "Out there." "Mr. Melville, I don't see where your 'impossible' comes in." "Dear, no! _Never!_"
"Well, well," said Melville. "Possibly not. Still--she exists." "So many people do," said Lady Poynting Mallow. They pursued their way in silence. "Mr. Melville, is just precisely where you come into this business?" "Who wants him back." "Frankly--yes." Nor do I." Melville shrugged his shoulders. "Ten times." There the lady turned
upon him. "The fact is," said Melville, "I--I have been asked to talk to you." "It's a gorgeous night," he said. "Several times." asked Melville. I am profoundly sorry. Largely it is my own fault. Bunting." "She did. "Of course all that doesn't excuse me in the least. For a time neither spoke. Very. "Yes." "Yes." "Talked to her?... Handsome, you
know, but not--winning. But this time, she seemed ... rather splendid." "She is," said Chatteris, "she is." "She _is_ splendid," he admitted. "You--only begin to imagine. You
don't, my dear man, know that girl. She is not--quite--in your line. "She wants you to go back to her," said Melville bluntly. She
writes--straight. "Of course," he
said, "I shall go back. "That's just your way. "They're very simple, I suppose." "Very." He seemed to hesitate at a dangerous topic. "The other," he said. Why should--this
being--come into my life, as she has done, if it _is_ so simple? She has, you know. It's not the situation, it's the mental
conflict. How? But so is Miss Glendower." "Yes, but that's only the name for the effect. Melville shrugged his shoulders. "And other people don't seem to see it--as I do." "Some people seem to see no beauty at all, as we do. With emotion, that
is." "We see--finer." Why should it be finer to see beauty where it is
fatal to us to see it? Put it as a matter of reason, Melville. Why should _her_ smile
be so sweet to me, why should _her_ voice move me! After all, it's a visible thing, it's a material thing! he laughed abruptly. "And anyhow,
why do they take us? "It is illusion," he said. "It is a sort of glamour. After all,
look at it squarely. "Yes," said Chatteris. "I know." And then again, "I know. Why should reason and justice carry everything? Beauty, at any rate----
"I mean," he explained, "we are human beings. "In another direction, anyhow," he tried
feebly. "Well. Yes. Art!... It's not my way." He repeated, "It's not my way." "Who is Death." "I have." He seemed to recollect. "I have," he corroborated. "I told you. "Yes." "And work." No. It's--arduous. There are places
to climb that are not only steep but muddy----"
"The world wants leaders. Leisure. Honour. I know. I am wrong--have been wrong
anyhow. And I must renounce it. After all it is not so much--to renounce a dream. There are big things in the world for men to do." "And there is Miss Glendower, you know." said Chatteris, with a faint touch of insincerity. I am that I am. Here, with the flame burning, I renounce it. I make my
choice.... That is life for all of
us. Why should _I_ be exempt. For
me, she is evil. he asked. "No," he said at last, and the word was almost a sigh. "Go down to the girl below there. End the thing. "No," he answered, "not to-night. To-morrow, in the
light of everyday. There are sources, of course, and glimpses. said Chatteris. "Yessir," said the valet. "Tell her I'm here," he said. said Chatteris, suddenly white. Tell her I must see her now. She was raised up on her hands, and turned so
towards the door. "For a bit they talked with the door open, and then it was shut. "Dropped to
whispers--instanter." "No! "Only," said the
porter, "she was alive. "He looked, you know, like a man who's screwed himself up. "Laughed at me, she did. Bubblin' over." Then a
question occurred to me. I asked.