The Heavenly Twins by Madame Sarah Grand

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"Now, you look quite concerned," he said, with an extra affectation of
brogue, when I had told him my errand. "Sure, she humbugs you, Evadne
does! If you knew her as well as I do, you'd not be troubling yourself
about her so much. I tell you, she'll come to no harm in the world. Now
what do you think were her reasons for going to live in the small-pox
camp?"

"Then she _has_ gone!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, yes, she's gone," he answered. "The grass never has time to grow
under that young woman's feet if she's an idea to carry out, I will say
that for her. But what do you think she said when I asked her why she'd be
going among the small-pox patients? 'Oh,' she said, 'I want to see what
they look like!' And she'd another reason, too. She'll make herself look
like an interesting nurse, you know, and quite enjoy dressing up for the
part."

I felt sure that all this was a horrid perversion of the truth, but I let
it pass.

"You'll not interfere, then?" I persisted.

"Not I, indeed!" he answered. "She never comes commandering it over me,
and I'm not going to meddle with her private affairs, so long as she
doesn't come here bringing infection, that's all."

"But she may catch the disease herself and die of it, or be disfigured for
life," I remonstrated.

"And she might catch her death of cold here in the garden, or be burnt
beyond all recognition by a spark setting fire to her ball-dress the next
time she wears one," he answered philosophically. "When you look at the
chances, now, they're about equal."

He smiled at me complacently when he had said this, and something he saw
in my face inclined him to chuckle, but he suppressed the inclination,
twirling his fair moustache instead, first on one side and then on the
other, rapidly. In his youth he must have been one of those small boys who
delighted to spear a bee with a pin and watch it buzz round. The boy is
pretty sure the bee can't hurt him, but yet half the pleasure of the
performance lies in the fact of its having a sting. It would not have been
convenient for Colonel Colquhoun to quarrel with me, because there had
been certain money transactions between us which left him greatly my
debtor; but he thought me secured by my interest in Evadne, and indulged
himself on every possible occasion in the pleasure of opposing me. Not
that he bore me any ill-will, either. I knew that he would borrow more
money from me at any time in the friendliest way, if he happened to want
it. I was his honey bee, and he was fond of honey; but it delighted him
also to see me buzz.

I was obliged to consider my own patients and keep away from the small-pox
camp during the epidemic, for fear of carrying infection, and consequently
I saw nothing of Evadne, and only heard of her through the military
doctor, for she would not write. His report of her, however, was always
the same at first. She was the life of the camp, bright, cheerful, and
active, never tired apparently, and never disheartened. This went on for
some time, and then, one evening, there came another report. She was just
as cheerful as ever, but looking most awfully done.

At daybreak next morning I drove out to the common, and, leaving my
dogcart outside the camp, went in to look for her. I knew that she was
generally up all night, and was therefore prepared to find her about, and
I met her making her way toward her own tent. She was dressed like a
French _bonne_, in a short dark blue gown made of some washing
material, with a white apron and white cap, and a chatelaine with useful
implements upon it hanging from her girdle, a very suitable costume for
the work; but she wore no wrap of any kind, and the morning air was keen.

I noticed as she walked toward me that her gait was a little uncertain.
Once she put out her hand as if seeking something to grasp, and once she
staggered and stopped. I hastened to her assistance, and saw as I
approached her that she was colourless even to her lips; her eyes were
bright and sunken, with large black circles round them, and the lids were
heavy. I drew her hand through my arm without more formal greeting, and
she grasped it gratefully for a moment, then dropped it and stepped back.

"I forgot," she said, "it seems so natural to see you anywhere. But don't
touch me. I shall infect you."

"I shall have to go home and change in any case," I answered briskly.

"I've been up all night with a poor woman," she said, "and I'm just tired
out. Don't look concerned, though. I shall not take small-pox. My own
illness, you remember, was a blessing in disguise, and I am sure the
absorbing distraction of helping to relieve others--" she stopped short,
looked about her confusedly, and then exclaimed: "It is quite time I went
to bed. I declare I don't know the Hospital Tent from the sandy common,
nor a rabbit running about from a convalescent child, and the whin bushes
are waltzing round me derisively." She swayed a little, recovered herself,
tried to laugh, then threw up her hands, and fell forward into my arms.

I carried her to her tent, guided by one of the men. On the way Dr. James
joined us. We laid her on her bed and looked anxiously for symptoms of the
dreadful disease, but there were none.

"No, you see," Dr. James declared, "it's just what I expected--sheer
exhaustion, and nothing else. But she'd better be got out of this
atmosphere at once."

She was in a semi-unconscious, semi-somnolent state, half syncope, half
sleep, and there was nothing to be gained by rousing her just then, so we
wrapped her up warmly in shawls, sent for my dogcart, and lifted her on
the back seat, where I supported her as best I could, while my man drove
us to As-You-Like-It.

Colonel Golquhoun was not up when we arrived, but I waited to see her
swallow some champagne after she had been put to bed, and in the meantime
the bustle had aroused him. When he learnt the occasion of it, his wrath
knew no bounds. He could not have abused me in choicer language if I had
been one of his own subalterns. But I managed to keep my temper until I
could get a word in, and then I mildly suggested that the best thing he
could do, as he was so afraid of infection, was to give himself leave, and
be off. "Nobody will expect _you_ to stay and look after your wife,"
I said. "You'd better go to town."

It was what he would have done if I had not advised it, but the habit of
opposing me was becoming so inveterate that he changed his mind, and,
rather than act upon a suggestion of mine, ran the risk of living in
barracks until all fear of infection was over.

Happily Evadne suffered from nothing worse than exhaustion, and soon
recovered her strength; but I never could agree with Dr. James about the
merit of her conduct during the epidemic.

CHAPTER X.

It was about this time, that is to say, immediately after the outbreak of
small-pox was over, and in the height of the summer, that Mr. and Lady
Adeline Hamilton-Wells returned from a prolonged absence abroad, and
settled themselves for a few months at Hamilton House. I happened to be in
London when they arrived, and saw them there as they passed through. Lady
Adeline made particular inquiries about Evadne. "I don't think you, any of
you, understand that girl," she said. "She is shy, and should be set
going. She requires to be _induced_ to come forward to do her share
of the work of the world, but, instead of helping her, everybody lets her
alone to mope in luxurious idleness at As-You-Like-It."

"She is never idle," I protested.

"I know what you mean," Lady Adeline answered, "She sits and sews; but
that is idle trifling for a woman of her capacity. She was out of health
and good-for-nothing when I saw her last with Mrs. Orton Beg in Paris, and
therefore I held my peace; but now I mean to take her out of herself, and
show her her mistake,"

"I hope you will be able to do so," I said, and I was not speaking
ironically; but all the same I scarcely expected that she would succeed.
The day after my return home, however, which was only a week later, I
called at Hamilton House, and it seemed to me then that she had already
made a very good beginning. It was a brilliant afternoon, and I had walked
through the fields from Fountain Towers, and found Lady Adeline alone for
the moment, sitting out on the terrace under an awning, somewhat overcome
by the heat.

"You have arrived at an acceptable time, as you always do," she said in
her decided kindly way. "I am enjoying a brief period of repose before the
racket begins again, and I invite you to share it."

"The racket?" I inquired.

"No, the repose," she replied. "Angelica is staying here, and Evadne--"

"Mrs. Colquhoun and racket!" I ejaculated.

"Well, it is difficult to associate the two ideas, I confess," she
answered; "but you will see for yourself. Angelica makes the racket, of
course, but Evadne enjoys it. I went to As-You-Like-It as soon as I could,
without waiting for her to call upon me, and I found her just as you had
led me to expect, all staid propriety and precision, hiding deep dejection
beneath an affectation of calm content--at least, that was my
interpretation of her attitude--and inclined to be stiff with me; but I
approached her as her mother's oldest and dearest friend, and she softened
at once."

"And you brought her here?"

"That is quite the proper word for it," she rejoined. "I just brought her.
I insisted upon her coming. I gave her no choice. And I also asked Colonel
Colquhoun, but he declined. He said he thought Evadne would be all the
better for getting away from home, and I agreed with him. He comes over,
however, occasionally, and they seem to be very good friends. I don't
dislike him at all."

This was said tentatively, but I did not care to discuss Colonel
Colquhoun, and therefore, to change the subject, I asked Lady Adeline how
she found Angelica.

"Very much improved in every way," she answered. "The happiest
understanding has come to exist between herself and her husband since that
dreadful occurrence. They are simply inseparable. She said to me the other
day that her only chance of ever showing to any advantage at all would be
against the quiet background of her husband's unobtrusive goodness. And I
think myself that a great many people would never have believed in her if
he had not. All her faults are so apparent, alas! while the very real and
earnest purpose of her life is so seldom seen."

"She has been working very hard lately, I believe."

"Yes," Lady Adeline answered; "but I am thankful to say she has set up a
private secretary, and who do you think it is? Our dear good Mr. Ellis!"

"I am heartily glad to hear of it," I said, "both for his sake and hers."

"Yes," she agreed. "It did not seem right that he should ever go away from
amongst us, and you know how we all felt the severance after Diavolo went
into the service, and there seemed no help for it, as his occupation was
over. I am afraid, poor fellow, his experiences since he left us have been
anything but happy. All that is over now, however, and it does seem so
natural to have him about again!"

"He must make an admirable secretary," I said.

"Admirable!" she agreed--"in every way, for I don't think Angelica would
ever have got on quite so well with anybody else. He was always able to
make her respect him, and now the habit is confirmed, so that he has more
influence with her for good than almost anybody else--a restraining
influence, you know. Her great fault still is impatience. She thinks
everything should be put right the moment she perceives it to be wrong,
and would raise revolutions if she were not restrained. It is always
difficult to make her believe that evolution if slower is surer. But here
they are."

As Lady Adeline spoke, Angelica, accompanied by Mr. Kilroy and Mr. Ellis,
came out of the plantation to the left of the terrace upon which we were
sitting, and walked across the lawn toward us, while at the same moment
Diavolo and Evadne came round the corner of the house from the opposite
direction and went to meet them. Evadne carried a parasol, but wore
neither hat nor gloves. She looked very happy, listening to Diavolo's
chatter.

Angelica carried a fishing rod, and I thought, as she approached, that I
had never seen a more splendid specimen of hardy, healthy, vigorous young
womanhood.

Evadne looked sickly beside her, and drooping, like a pale and fragile
flower in want of water. The contrast must have struck Lady Adeline also,
for presently she observed: "Evadne was as strong as Angelica once. Do you
suppose her health has been permanently injured by that horrid Maltese
fever?"

"No," I said positively. "If she would give up sewing, and take a fishing
rod, and go out with Angelica in a sensible dress like that, she would be
as strong as ever in six months. But I fancy she would be shocked by the
bare suggestion."

Angelica hugged Diavolo heartily when they met, and then, being the taller
of the two, she put her arm round his neck, and all three strolled slowly
on toward us, Mr. Ellis and Mr. Kilroy having already come up on to the
terrace and sat down. While greeting the two latter I lost sight of the
Heavenly Twins, and when I looked at them again something had evidently
gone wrong. Angelica stood leaning on her rod berating Diavolo, who was
answering with animation, while Evadne looked from one to the other in
amazement, as the strange good child looks at the strange naughty ones.
Whatever the difference was it was soon over, and then they came on again,
talking and walking briskly, followed by four dogs.

"I _am_ vulgar, decidedly, at times," Angelica acknowledged as she
came up the steps. "I shouldn't be half so amusing if I were not." She
held out her hand to me, and then threw herself into the only unoccupied
chair on the terrace, but instantly jumped up again. "I beg your pardon,
Evadne," she said. "These are my society manners. When I am on the
platform or otherwise engaged in _Unwomanly_ pursuits outside the
Sphere, I have to be more considerate."

Some more chairs were brought out, one of which Diavolo placed beside me.
"This is for you," he said to Evadne; "I know you like to be near the
Don." Evadne flushed crimson.

"Did you ever hear that story?" Angelica asked me.

Evadne's embarrassment visibly increased. "Angelica, don't tell it," she
remonstrated; "It isn't fair."

Angelica laughed. "When Evadne first came here," she proceeded, "she sat
next you at dinner one night, and didn't know who you were; but it seems
you made such a profound and favourable impression upon her that afterward
she had the curiosity to ask, when she learnt that you were a doctor. 'A
doctor!' she exclaimed in surprise. 'He is more like a Don than a doctor!'
and you have been 'Don' to her intimates ever since."

"Well, I feel flattered," I said.

"I feel as if I ought to apologise," Evadne began--"only I meant no
disrespect."

"My dear," Angelica interposed, "he is delighted to be distinguished by
you in any way. But, by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked"--and
Colonel Colquhoun came out on to the terrace through the drawing room
behind us. He shook hands with us all, his wife included, and then sat
down.

"I say, Evadne--" Diavolo began.

"My dear boy," said Lady Adeline, "you mustn't call Mrs. Colquhoun by her
Christian name."

"Christian!" jeered Diavolo. "Now, that _is_ a good one! There's
nothing Christian about Evadne. We looked her up in the dictionary ages
ago, didn't we, Angelica? The name means Well-pleasing-one, as nearly as
possible, and it suits her sometimes. Evadne--classical Evadne--was noted
for her devotion to her husband, and distinguished herself finally on his
funeral pyre--she ex-pyred there."

We all groaned aloud. "It was a somewhat theatrical exit, I confess,"
Diavolo pursued. "But, I say, Angelica, wouldn't it be fun to burn the
colonel, and see Evadne do suttee on his body--only I doubt if she would!"
He turned to Evadne.

"Mrs. Colquhoun," he began ceremoniously; "may I have the honour of
calling you by your heathen name--as in the days beyond recalling?"

"When you are good," she answered.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "I should have had more respect for your honesty if
you said 'no' at once. And it is very absurd of you, too, Evadne, because
you know you are going to marry me when Colonel Colquhoun is promoted to
regions of the blest. She would have married me first, only you stole a
march on me, sir," he added, addressing Colonel Colquhoun. "However, I
feel as if something were going to happen _now_, at last! There was a
banshee wailing about my quarters in a minor key, very flat, last night.
She had come all the way from Ireland to warn Colonel Colquhoun, and
mistaken the house, I suppose."

"My dear--"

We all looked round. It was Mr. Hamilton-Wells addressing Lady Adeline in
his most precise manner. He was standing in the open French window just
behind us, tapping one hand with the _pince-nez_ he held in the
other.

"My dear, the cat has five kittens."

"My _dear!_" Lady Adeline exclaimed.

"They have only just arrived and--"

"Never mind them _now_," she cried hurriedly.

"But, my dear, you were anxious to know."

"I don't want to know in the least," she protested.

"But only this morning you said--"

"Oh, that was upstairs," she interrupted.

"What difference does that make?" he wanted to know. "You don't mean to
say you are anxious about the cat when you are upstairs, and not anxious
when you come down?"

Lady Adeline sank back in her chair, and resigned herself to a long
altercation. Before it ended everybody else had disappeared, and I saw no
more of Evadne on that occasion. But during the next few weeks I had many
opportunities of observing the wonderful way she was waking up under the
influence of the Heavenly Twins.

They gave her no time for reflection; it was the life of action against
the life of thought, and it suited her.

The ladies frequently made my house the object of an afternoon walk, and
stayed for tea. Lady Adeline declared that the "girls" dragged her over
because they wanted a new victim to torment with their superabundant
animal spirits. The superabundance was all Angelica's, I knew, but still
Evadne was an accomplice, and they neither of them spared me in those
days. They would rob my hot-houses of the best fruits and flowers,
disarrange my books, turn pictures they did not like with their faces to
the wall, drape my statues fantastically, criticise what they called my
absurd bachelor habits, and give me good advice on the subject of marriage;
Lady Adeline sitting by meanwhile, aiding and abetting them with smiles,
although protesting that she would not allow them to make me the butt of
their idle raillery.

Evadne had a passion for the scent of gorse. She crammed pockets, sleeves,
shoes, and the bosom of her dress with the yellow blossoms, and I often
found these fragrant tokens of her presence scattered about my house after
she had been there. Once, when we were all out walking together, she
stopped to pick some from a bush, and as she was putting them into her
bodice she made a remark which gave me pause to ponder.

"You will want to know why I do that, I suppose," she said. "You will be
looking for a motive, for some secret spring of action. The simple fact
that I love the gorse won't satisfy you. You would like to know why I love
it, when I first began to love it, and anything else about it that might
enable you to measure my feeling for it."

This was so exactly what I was in the habit of doing with regard to many
matters that I could not say a word. But what struck me as significant
about the observation was the obvious fact, gathered by inference, that,
while I had been studying her, she also had been studying me, and I had
never suspected it.

She walked on with Angelica after she had spoken, and I dropped behind
with Lady Adeline.

"_Your_ Evadne and Colonel Colquhoun's wife are two very different
people," I said. "The one is a lively girl, the other a sad and bitter
woman."

"Sad, not bitter," Lady Adeline corrected.

"I have heard her say bitter things!" I maintained.

"You may, perhaps, have heard her condemn wrong ones rather too
emphatically," Lady Adeline suggested. "But all this is only a phase. She
is in rather a deep groove at present, but we shall be able to get her out
of it."

"I don't know," I answered dubiously. "I don't think it is that exactly. I
believe there is some kind of warp in her mind, I perceive it, but can
neither define nor account for It yet. It is something morbid that makes
her hold herself aloof. She has never allowed anybody in the neighbourhood
to be intimate with her. Even I, who have seen her oftener than anybody,
never feel that I know her really well--that I could reckon upon what she
would do in an emergency. And I believe that there is something artificial
in her attitude; but why? What is the explanation of all that is unusual
about her?"

Lady Adeline shook her head, and was silent for some seconds, then she
said: "I once had a friend--but her moral nature quite halted. It was
because she had lost her faith in men. A woman who thinks that only women
can be worthy is like a bird with a broken wing. But I don't say that that
is Evadne's case at all. Since she came to us she has seemed to be much
more like one of those marvellous casks of sherry out of which a dozen
different wines are taken. The flavour depends on the doctoring. Here,
under Angelica's influence--why, she has filled your pocket with gorse
blossoms!"

It was true. In taking out my handkerchief, I had just scattered the
flowers, and so discovered that they were there. "Then you give her credit
for less individuality--you think her more at the mercy of her
surroundings than I do," I said.

But before she could answer me, Evadne herself had joined us. I suppose I
was looking grave, for she asked in a playful tone:

"Did he ever frolic, Lady Adeline, this solemn seeming--_Don_? Was he
always in earnest, even on his mother's lap, and occupied with weighty
problems of life and death when other babes were wondering with wide open
eyes at the irresponsible action of their own pink toes?"

Which made me reflect. For if I were in the habit of being a dull bore
myself it was no wonder that I seldom saw her looking lively.

The following week Evadne went home, and as soon as she was settled at
As-You-Like-It, she seemed to relapse once more into her former state of
apathy. I saw her day after day as I passed, sitting sewing in the wide
west window above the holly hedge; and so long as she was left alone she
seemed to be content; but I began to notice at this time that any
interruption at her favourite occupation did not please her. The summer
heat, the scent of flowers streaming through open windows, the song of
birds, the level landscape, here vividly green with the upspringing
aftermath, there crimson and gold where the poppies gleamed amongst the
ripening corn--all such sweet sensuous influences she looked out upon
lovingly, and enjoyed them--so long as she was left alone. On hot
afternoons, Diavolo would go and lie at her feet sometimes, with a cushion
under his head; and him she tolerated; but only, I am sure, because he
always fell asleep.

I had to go to As-You-Like-It one day to transact some business with
Colonel Colquhoun, and when we had done he asked me to go up into the
drawing room with him. "Come, and I'll show you a pretty picture," he
said.

It _was_ a pretty picture. They had both fallen asleep on that
occasion. It was a torrid day outside, but the deep bay where they were
was cool and shady. The windows were wide open, the outside blinds were
drawn down low enough to keep out the glare, but not so far as to hide the
view. Behind Evadne was a stand of flowers and foliage plants. Diavolo was
lying on the floor in his favourite attitude with a black satin cushion
under his head, and was, with his slender figure, refined features, thick,
curly, fair hair, and fine transparent skin, slightly flushed by the heat,
a perfect specimen of adolescent grace and beauty. He looked like a young
lover lying at the feet of his lady. Evadne was sitting in a low easy
chair, with a high back, against which her head was resting. Half her face
was concealed by a fan of white ostrich feathers which she held in her
left hand, and the moment I looked at her the haunting certainty of having
seen her in exactly that position once before recurred to me. She was
looking well that afternoon. Her glossy dark brown hair showed bright as
bronze against the satin background of the chair. She was dressed in a
gown of silver gray cashmere lined with turquoise blue silk, which showed
between the folds; cool colours of the best shade to set off the ivory
whiteness of her skin.

Colonel Colquhoun considered the group meditatively. "She keeps her
looks," he observed in an undertone; "and Diavolo's catching her up."

I looked at him inquiringly.

"She's six or eight years older than he is, you know," he explained; "but
you wouldn't think it now."