Part 16 (1/2)

Then she heard a movement in the room where he painted and she walked through the doorway to see, him placing his pictures in a packing-case.

She stood still, looking at him while he continued to pack the canva.s.ses neatly side by side in the wooden container as if she was not there.

She knew he was aware of her presence although he gave no sign of it.

At last because she could bear the silence no longer she said: ”I ... I want to talk to ... you, Vulcan.”

She was surprised how strange her own voice sounded. ”There is nothing to talk about, ” he replied without looking up, apparently intent on what he was doing.

”Will you ... listen to me?”

”I will listen, but it is a waste of words.”

”But why? Why must you ... behave like ... this?”

”You know the answer to that. You live in one world and I live in another, and nothing we do or say can bridge it.”

”That is not ... true.”

Astara moved forward as she spoke drawing nearer to him until she stood beside the packing-case.

He picked up another canvas and she asked: ”Are you ... angry with me?”

”No, why should I be? But if you play with fire you are liable to get burnt.”

”You thought I was a village maiden and wanted me to pose for your picture.”

”If I remember rightly, I thought you were Aphrodite come from Olympus to help in what to me was a real dilemma. ”

”I wanted to help you ... I was glad to do so, but now you ... share no ... further ... use for me.”

There was so much unhappiness in her tone that almost involuntarily he raised his eyes to look at her for the first time.

She was standing the other side of the packing-case and because the curtains were not drawn over the window the light on her hair made it appear that she was haloed by it.

But her eyes, which seemed to fill her whole face were dark and unhappy and her lips trembled as she said : ”Please ... Vulcan, do not ... leave me.”

For a moment it seemed as if he found it impossible to answer her, as if despite every resolution his whole being went out towards her.

Then in a voice that was harsh and over-loud and seemed to echo round the big room, he said: ”For G.o.d's sake, do not make it worse! You know as well as I do that we have to part.”

”Why? Why?” she asked. ”I love you! I am not ashamed to say it ... I love you!”

”You will forget me.”

”That will be ... impossible!”

”You are very young. However unhappy you may feel now these things pa.s.s and when you are older you will know that I am doing what is right.”

”Can it ever be right to refuse love? To turn your back on something so perfect ... so wonderful that I know we ... belong to each other ... or at least ... I belong to you.”

There was a note in her voice which seemed to vibrate between them and she thought for a moment that she had broken through his defences, and that he would take her in his arms.

Then he walked away moving towards the North window to stand looking out over the mill-pool and the green fields which bordered the village.

”Go home, Astara,” he said, ”and think of my uncle's plans for you the money, the social acclaim and the position you will occupy at Worfield House.”

”It could ... be yours.”

Astara only whispered the words but he heard them.

”I am not the right man for such a position. You had far better marry one of my cousins and, personally, I should choose Lionel. He is by far the nicer of the two.”

Vulcan spoke coldly, but Astara felt that underneath the indifference he forced upon his voice he was suffering in much the same way as she was.

”Do you really imagine that ... loving you as I ... do I would ... marry anyone else?” she asked.

”Of course you will marry! ”

Again his voice was loud and over-positive.

”What you feel for me now is the calf-love which every girl experiences with her first love-affair. I can promise you from experience that it is very easy to forget.”

”Do you really ... believe that is how I ... feel?” Astara asked. ”Do you think that if I were so shallow and so inconsequential I could have portrayed Persephone as you ... wished me to do? It was the love that you ... awoke in me that made you ... see her ... enveloped in... light. ”

She had not consciously thought the words but felt that they were there, put into her mind by some power beyond herself.

Vulcan did not answer.. he only stood with his back to her, and suddenly through a mist of tears Astara felt as if he had already left her and she was alone.

With a little exclamation that was a cry of pain she ran towards him.

She reached him and inserted herself between him and the window to look up at him, the tears running down her cheeks, her eyes beseeching him as she said : ”I love you! Oh, Vulcan, I love you! I will do ... anything you wish ... you need not ... marry me ... I will come with you to Paris ... or anywhere else in the world. Take me ... please ... take me with... you!”

Her voice broke on the last words so that they were almost incoherent, and now as if he could no longer resist her Vulcan pulled her into his arms and his mouth carne down on hers.

He kissed her fiercely, almost brutally, first her lips, then her dyes, the tears from her cheeks, and again her lips.

It was as if a tempest swept over her, and yet she was not afraid. She only knew his mouth evoked the same wonder and glory within her as he had done before.

She felt as if her whole body was invaded with the light he had painted in his picture, but now it was no longer clear 7.nd cold but burning as if it came from the very heart of the sun.

He kissed her until she could think of nothing but the wonder of him and a rapture which seemed to grow in intensity within herself.

She only knew she was his and he was hers.

He picked her up in his arms, still holding her lips captive. Her eyes were shut but she felt him carrying her across the room.

”I love you! Oh, Vulcan, I love you!” she wanted to cry, but everything was too glorious, too perfect for speech and her whole body was burning with the flames of love.

Then suddenly, so suddenly that she could hardly realise what was happening, Vulcan set her down on her feet.