Part 73 (1/2)
”I remember,” she said, smiling.
A little later Hafiz regained confidence in Clive and came up to rub against his legs and permit caresses.
”Such a united family,” remarked Athalie, amused by the mutual demonstrations.
”How is Henry?” he asked.
”Fatter and slower than ever, dear. He suits my unenterprising disposition to perfection. Now and then he condescends to be harnessed and to carry me about the landscape. But mostly he drags the cruel burden of Connor's lawn-mower. Do you think the place looks well kept?”
”I knew you wanted to be flattered,” he laughed.
”I do. Flatter me please.”
”It's one of the best things I do, Athalie! For example--the lawn, the cat, and the girl are all beautifully groomed; the credit is yours; and you're a celestial dream too exquisite to be real.”
”I am becoming real--as real as you are,” she said with a faint smile.
”Yes,” he admitted, ”you and I are the only real things in the world after all. The rest--woven scenes that come and go moving across a loom.”
She quoted:
”Sun and Moon illume the Room Where the ceiling is the sky: Night and day the Weavers ply Colour, shadow, hue, and dye, Where the rus.h.i.+ng shuttles fly, Weaving dreams across the Loom, Picturing a common doom!
”How, Beloved, can _we_ die-- We Immortals, Thou and I?”
He smiled: ”Death seems very far away,” he said.
”Nothing dies.... If only this world could understand.... Did I tell you that mother has been with me often while you were away?”
”No.”
”It was wonderfully sweet to see her in the room. One night I fell asleep across her knees.”
”Does she ever speak to you, Athalie?”
”Yes, sometimes we talk.”
”At night?”
”By day, too.... I was sitting in the living-room the other morning, and she came up behind me and took both my hands. We talked, I lying back in the rocking chair and looking up at her.... Mrs. Connor came in. I am quite sure she was frightened when she heard my voice in there conversing with n.o.body she could see.”
Athalie smiled to herself as at some amusing memory evoked.
”If Mrs. Connor ever knew how she is followed about by so many purring p.u.s.s.ies and little wagging dogs--I mean dogs and p.u.s.s.ies who are no longer what we call 'alive,'--I don't know what she'd think. Sometimes the place is full of them, Clive--such darling little creatures. Hafiz sees them; and watches and watches, but never moves.”
Clive was staring a trifle hard; Athalie, lazily stretching her arms, glanced at him with that humorous expression which hinted of gentlest mockery.
”Don't worry; nothing follows you, Clive, except an idle girl who finds no time for anything else, so busy are her thoughts with you.”