Part 11 (1/2)
He put his hand on her shoulder as he said: ”I thought at luncheon what a charming hostess you made at Worfield House. I am certain my nephews were thinking the same thing. ”
”You must remember,” Astara said lightly, ”that you ”made an exceptionally delightful host. ”
She knew as she walked away that he was amused at the adroit way she had turned his words.
When she reached her bed-room she quickly changed her gown from the elaborate one she had worn at luncheon and slipping down one of the side-staircases let herself out through a door which opened into the garden.
Because she was in a hurry to reach Vulcan she ran through the shrubberies which bordered the wood and soon found the path through the trees.
She was breathless by the time she reached Little Milden and only when she was actually in the village did she move more sedately and hope that her heart would cease beating so frantically.
The door of the Mill was open as she expected and she walked in to hear Vulcan's voice say sharply before he could see her: ”Is that you, Aphrodite? I thought you had forgotten your promise.”
”I always keep my promises,” she answered as she entered the big room.
He turned round from the easel to look at her and she suddenly became conscious that from her haste her hair was curling in small tendrils around her forehead and she was certain the colour was vivid in her cheeks.
She looked at him and looked away, then without waiting for instructions she walked to the throne and picked up the sheaf of wheat which was lying where she had left it.
She held it in her arms and a.s.sumed the pose that he wanted and looked up as if to the light.
He did not move for a moment, but she knew his eyes were on her. Then he said: ”Perfect! I see now where I have gone wrong.”
He painted quickly and after some moments he said: ”Why did you have to run?”
”I ... thought you would be waiting for me.”
”I was, but I have a fancy you have come quite a long way.”
She did not answer and he smiled as he said : ”Still mysterious? Still intent on keeping me guessing?”
”Why not? Explanations are boring and often ... disappointing ”
”Who told you that?” he questioned in an amused voice. ”Why should it not be my own observation ?”
”Because you do not look as if you have ever been disappointed by anything in life.”
”And how should one look if one was disappointed?”
”Cynical but you are too young for that! Blase you are too ignorant. No where youth scores every time is that you have hope and the imagination to be quite sure you will always get what you want.”
”And what do I want?” Astara enquired.
”Love of course ! Women never want anything else.”
”And men?”
”Men have so many other things they need.”
”Like money?” Astara asked.
”Money is unimportant in itself,” Vulcan replied. ”But it can aid ambition and achievement, and one can waste a whole lot of time finding how to pay for something one needs urgently.”
”Is that what you have to do?”
”Sometimes I had to in the past.”
”And now?”
”I have, thank G.o.d, everything I need from a financial point of view, but money is not my main objective.”
”Of course not! You want your book and your pictures to be a success.”
”They will be!”
”How can you be sure that people will understand?”
”People? Who concerns himself with people?” he asked. ”I am speaking of the few the very few who will under-stand and will know what I am trying to say. ”
”That is what I wanted to ask you ... what are you trying to say?”
He did not reply and she asked: ”You have not yet told me what your book is about except that it concerns the mystery of Eleusis. ”
”That is not the only mystery in the world.”
”Are you saying you are writing a book of mysteries?” ”Briefly yes!”
”How exciting! What other ones do you include?”
”Mecca.”
Astara was so surprised that she turned her face to look at him.
”Are you telling me that you have been as a pilgrim to Mecca?” she asked incredulously.
”Yes!”
”I can hardly believe it!”
She had heard her father talk of the pilgrimage that Moslems made to what to them was the secret city of Islam, the holy of holies, which was eight days' march across the torrid Arabian desert.
She also knew that no infidel could penetrate the city and live.
Her father had told Astara that many attempts had been made by explorers and Christians to reach the Holy City, but they had never returned to tell what they had seen and discovered.
”H .. how ... did you get there ?” Astara asked now.
”It was not a particularly pleasant journey,” Vulcan answered lightly, ”but you see before you a Master of Sufi, one of the Faithful, and ent.i.tled to the green turban!”