Part 6 (2/2)
”But, Fay dear,” Jan interposed, ”you talk as though the twilight people couldn't help it....”
”They can't--they truly can't.”
”But surely there's right and wrong, straightness and crookedness, and no one _need_ be crooked.”
”People like you needn't--but everybody isn't strong like that. Hugo says every man has his price, and every woman too--Peter says so, too.”
”Then Peter ought to be ashamed of himself. Do you suppose _he_ has his price?”
”No, not in that way. He'd think it silly to be pettifogging and dishonest about money, or to go in for mad speculations run by shady companies; but he wouldn't think it _extraordinary_ like you.”
”I'm afraid my education has been neglected. A great many things seem extraordinary to me.”
”You think it funny I should be living in Peter's flat, waited on by Peter's servants--but what else could I do?”
Jan smiled in the darkness. She saw where her niece had got ”what nelse?”
”Isn't it just a little--unusual?” she asked gently. ”Is there no money at all, Fay? What has become of all your own?”
”It's not all gone,” Fay said eagerly. ”I think there's nearly two thousand pounds left, but Peter made me write home--that was at Dariawarpur, before he came down here--and say no more was to be sent out, not even if I wrote myself to ask for it--and _he_ wrote to Mr.
Davidson too----”
”I know somebody wrote. Mr. Davidson was very worried ... but what _can_ Hugo have done with eight thousand pounds in two years? Besides his pay....”
”Eight thousand pounds doesn't go far when you've dealings with money-lenders and mines in Peru--but _I_ don't understand it--don't ask me. I believe he left me a little money--I don't know how much--at a bank in Elphinstone Circle--but I haven't liked to write and find out, lest it should be very little ... or none....”
”Mercy!” exclaimed Jan. ”It surely would be better to know for certain.”
”When you've lived in the twilight country as long as I have you'll not want to know anything for certain. It's only when things are wrapped up in a merciful haze of obscurity that life is tolerable at all. Do you suppose I _wanted_ to find out that my husband was a rascal? I shut my eyes to it as long as I could, and then Truth came with all her cruel tools and pried them open. Oh, Jan, it did hurt so!”
If Fay had cried, if her voice had even broken or she had seemed deeply moved, it would have been more bearable. It was the poor thing's calm--almost indifference--that frightened Jan. For it proved that her perceptions were numbed.
Fay had been tortured till she could feel nothing acutely any more. Jan had the feeling that in some dreadful, inscrutable way her sister was shut away from her in some prison-house of the mind.
And who shall break through those strange, intangible, impenetrable walls of unshared experience?
Jan swallowed her tears and said cheerfully: ”Well, it's all going to be different now. You needn't worry about anything any more. If Hugo has left no money we'll manage without. Mr. Davidson will let me have what I want ... but we must be careful, because of the children.”
”And you'll try not to mind living in Peter's flat?” Fay said, rubbing her head against Jan's shoulder. ”It's India, you know, and men are very kind out here--much friendlier than they are at home.”
”So it seems.”
”You needn't think there's anything wrong, Jan. Peter isn't in love with me now.”
”Was he ever in love with you?”
”Oh, yes, a bit, once; when he first came to Dariawarpur ... lots of them were then. I really was very pretty, and I had quite a little court ... but when the bad times came and people began to look shy at Hugo--everybody was nice to me always--then Peter seemed different.
<script>