"Trust a foe, and you may rue it;
Trust a friend, and perish through it.
Trust a woman if you will;—
Thrice betrayed, you'll trust her still."
As to the general warning, I was wishful to consult Eveena, and
unwilling to withhold from her any secret of my thoughts; but equally
averse to disturb her with alarms that were trying even to nerves
seasoned by the varied experience of twenty years against every open
peril.
As we approached the house I caught sight of Eveena's figure among the
party gathered on the roof. She had witnessed the interview, but her
habitual and conscientious deference forbade her to ask a confidence
not volunteered; and she seemed fully satisfied when, on the first
occasion on which we were alone, I told her simply that the stranger
belonged to the Zinta and had been recommended by her father himself
to the charge of my estate. Though reluctant to disturb her mind with
fears she could not shake off as I could, and which would make my
every absence at least a season of terror, the sense of insecurity
doubtless rendered me more anxious to enjoy whenever possible the only
society in which it was permissible to be frank and off my guard. No
man in his senses would voluntarily have accepted the position which
had been forced upon me. The Zveltau never introduce aliens into their
households. Their leading ideas and fundamental principles so deeply
affect the conduct of existence, the motives of action, the bases of
all moral reasoning—so completely do the inferences drawn from them
and the habits of thought to which they lead pervade and tinge the
mind, conscience, and even language—that though it may be easy to
"live in the light at home and walk with the blind abroad," yet in the
familiar intercourse of household life even a cautious and reserved
man (and I was neither) must betray to the keen instinctive
perceptions of women whether he thought and felt like those around
him, or was translating different thoughts into an alien language.
This difficulty is little felt between unbelievers and Christians. The
simple creed of the Zinta, however, like that of the Prophet, affects
the thought and life as the complicated and subtle mysteries of more
elaborate theologies, more refined philosophic systems rarely do.
One of Eveena's favourite quotations bore the unmistakable stamp of
Zveltic mysticism:—
"Symbols that invert the sense
Form the Seal of Providence;
Contradiction gives the key,
Time unlocks the mystery."
The danger in which my relation to the Zinta and its chief involved
me, and the presence of half a dozen rivals to Eveena—rivals also to
that regard for the Star which at first I felt chiefly for her
sake—likely as they seemed to impair the strength and sweetness of
the tie between us, actually worked to consolidate and endear it. To
enjoy, except on set occasions, without constant liability to
interruption, Eveena's sole society was no easy matter. To conceal our
real secret, and the fact that there was a secret, was imperative.
Avowedly exclusive confidence, conferences from which the rest of the
household were directly shut out, would have suggested to their
envious tempers that Eveena played the spy on them, or influenced and
advised the exercise of my authority. To be alone with her, therefore,
as naturally and necessarily I must often wish to be, required
manoeuvres and arrangements as delicate and difficult, though as
innocent, as those employed by engaged couples under the strict
conventions of European household usage; and the comparative rarity of
such interviews, and the manner in which they had often to be
contrived beforehand, kept alive in its earliest freshness the love
which, if not really diminished, generally loses somewhat of its first
bloom and delicacy in the unrestrained intercourse of marriage.
Absolutely and solely trusted, assured that her company was eagerly
sought, and at least as deeply valued as ever—compelled by the ideas
of her race to accept the situation as natural and right, and wholly
incapable of the pettier and meaner forms of jealousy—Eveena was
fully content and happy in her relations with me. That, on the whole,
she was not comfortable, or at least much less so than during our
suddenly abbreviated honeymoon, was apparent; but her loss of
brightness and cheerfulness was visible chiefly in her weary and
downcast looks on any occasion when, after being absent for some hours
from the house, I came upon her unawares. In my presence she was
always calm and peaceful, kind, and seemingly at ease; and if she saw
or heard me on my return, though she carefully avoided any appearance
of eagerness to greet me sooner than others, or to claim especial
attention, she ever met me with a smile of welcome as frank and bright
as a young bride on Earth could give to a husband returning to her
sole society from a long day of labour for her sake.
In so far as compliance was possible I was compelled to admit the
wisdom of Eveena's plea that no open distinction should be made in her
favour. Except in the simple fact of our affection, there was no
assignable reason for making her my companion more frequently than
Eunané or Eivé. Except that I could trust her completely, there was no
distinction of age, social rank, or domestic relation to afford a
pretext for exempting her from restraints which, if at first I thought
them senseless and severe, were soon justified by experience of the
kind of domestic control which just emancipated school-girls expected
and required. Nor would she accept the immunity tacitly allowed her.
It was not that any established custom or right bounded the arbitrary
power of domestic autocracy. The right of all but unbounded wrong, the
liberty of limitless caprice, is unquestionably vested in the head of
the household. But the very completeness of the despotism rendered its
exercise impossible. Force cannot act where there is no resistance.
The sword of the Plantagenet could cleave the helmet but not the quilt
of down. I could do as I pleased without infringing any understanding
or giving any right to complain.
"But," said Eveena, "you have a sense of justice which has nothing to
do with law or usage. Even your language is not ours. You think of
right and wrong, where we should speak only of what is or is not
punishable. You can make a favourite if you will pay the price. Could
you endure to be hated in your own home, or I to know that you
deserved it? Or, if you could, could you bear to see me hated and my
life made miserable?"
"They dare not!" I returned angrily fearing that they had dared, and
that she had already felt the spite she was so careful not to provoke.
"Do you think that feminine malice cannot contrive to envenom a dozen
stings that I could not explain if I would, and you could not deal
with if I did?"
"But," I replied, "it seems admitted that there is no such thing as
right or custom. As Enva said, I have bought and paid for them, and
may do what I please within the contract; and you agree that is just
what any other man in this world would do."
"Yes," returned Eveena, "and I watched your face while Enva spoke. How
did you like her doctrine? Of course you may do as you please—if you
can please. You may silence discontent, you may suppress spiteful
innuendos and even sulky looks, you may put down mutiny, by sheer
terror. Can you? You may command me to go with you whenever you go
out; you may take the same means to make me complain of unkindness as
to make them conceal it; you may act like one of our own people, if
you can stoop to the level of their minds. But we both know that you
can do nothing of the kind. How could you bear to be driven into
unsparing and undeserved severity, who can hardly bring yourself to
enforce the discipline necessary to peace and comfort on those who
will only be ruled by fear and would like you better if they feared
you more? Did you hear the proverb Leenoo muttered, very unjustly,
when she left your room yesterday, 'A favourite wears out many
sandals'? No! You see the very phrase wounds and disgusts you. But you
would find it a true one. Can you take vengeance for a fault you have
yourself provoked? Can you decide without inquiry, condemn without
evidence, punish without hearing? Men do these things, of course, and
women expect them. But you—I do not say you would be ashamed so to
act—you cannot do it, any more than you can breathe the air of our
snow-mountains."
"At all events, Eveena, I no more dare do it in your presence than I
dare forswear the Faith we hold in common."
But whatever Eveena might exact or I concede, the distinction between
the wife who commanded as much respect as affection, and the girls who
could at best be pets or playthings, was apparent against our will in
every detail of daily life and domestic intercourse. It was alike
impossible to treat Eveena as a child and to rule Enva or Eiralé as
other than children. It was as unnatural to use the tone of command or
rebuke to one for whom my unexpressed wishes were absolute law, as to
observe the form of request or advice in directing or reproving those
whose obedience depended on the consequences of rebellion. It only
made matters worse that the distinction corresponded but too
accurately to their several deserts. No faults could have been so
irritating to Eveena's companions as her undeniable faultlessness.
The ludicrous aspect of my relation to the rest of the household was
even more striking than I had expected. That I should find myself in
the absurd position of a man entrusted with the direct personal
government of half-a-dozen young ladies was even "more truly spoke
than meant." One at least among them might singly have made in time a
not unlovable wife, and all, perhaps, might severally and separately
have been reduced to conjugal complaisance. Collectively, they were,
as Eveena had said, a set of school-girls, and school-girls used to
stricter restraint and much sharper discipline than those of a French
or Italian convent. They would have made life a burden to a vigorous
English schoolmistress, and imperilled the soul of any Lady-Abbess
whose list of permissible penances excluded the dark cell and the
scourge. Fortunately for both parties, I had the advantage of
governess and Superior in the natural awe which girls feel for the
authority of manhood—till they have found out of what soft fibre men
are made—and in the artificial fear inspired by domestic usage and
tradition. For I was soon aware that even on its ridiculous side the
relation was not to be trifled with. The simple indifference a man
feels towards the escapades of girlhood was not applicable to women
and wives, who yet lacked womanly sense and the feeling of conjugal
duty. This serious aspect of their position soon contracted the
indulgence naturally conceded to youth's heedlessness and animal
spirits. These, displayed at first only in the energy and eagerness of
their every movement within the narrow limits of conventional usage,
broke all bounds when, after one or two half-timid, half-venturous
experiments on my patience, they felt that they had, at least for the
moment, exchanged the monotony, the mechanical routine, the stern
repression of their life in the great Nurseries, not for the harsh
household discipline to which they naturally looked forward, but for
the "loosened zone" which to them seemed to promise absolute liberty.
When not immediately in my presence or Eveena's, their keen enjoyment
of a life so new, the sudden development of the brighter side of their
nature under circumstances that gave play to the vigorous vitality of
youth, gave as much pleasure to me as to themselves. But in contact
with myself or Eveena they were women, and showed only the wrong side
of the varied texture of womanhood. To the master they were slaves,
each anxious to attract his notice, win his preference; before the
favourite, spiteful, envious of her and of each other, bitter,
malicious, and false. For Eveena's sake, it was impossible to look on
with indolent indifference on freaks of temper which, childish in the
form they assumed, were envenomed by the deliberate dislike and
unscrupulous cunning of jealous women.
But even on the childish side of their character and conduct, they
soon displayed a determination to test by actual experiment the utmost
extent of the liberty allowed, and the nature and sufficiency of its
limits. Eunané was always the most audacious trespasser and
representative rebel. Fortunately for her, the daring which had
bewildered and exasperated feminine guardians rather amused and
interested me, giving some variety and relief to the monotonous
absurdity of the situation. Nothing in her conduct was more remarkable
or more characteristic than the simplicity and good temper with which
she generally accepted as of course the less agreeable consequences of
her outbreaks; unless it were the sort of natural dignity with which,
when she so pleased, the game played out and its forfeit paid, the
naughty child subsided into the lively but rational companion, and the
woman simply ignored the scrapes of the school-girl.
As her character seemed to unfold, Eivé's individuality became as
distinctly parted from the rest as Eunané's, though in an opposite
direction. Comparatively timid and indolent, without their fulness of
life, she seemed to me little more than a child; and she fell with
apparent willingness into that position, accepting naturally its
privileges and exemptions. She alone was never in the way, never
vexatious or exacting. Content with the notice that naturally fell to
her share, she obtained the more. Never intruding between Eveena and
myself, she alone was not wholly unwelcome to share our accidental
privacy when, in the peristyle or the grounds, the others left us
temporarily alone. On such occasions she would often draw near and
crouch at my feet or by Eveena's side, curling herself like a kitten
upon the turf or among the cushions, often resting her little head
upon Eveena's knee or mine; generally silent, but never so silent as
to seem to be a spy upon our conversation, rather as a favourite child
privileged, in consideration of her quietude and her supposed
harmlessness and inattention, to remain when others are excluded, and
to hear much to which she is supposed not to listen. Having no special
duties of her own in the household, she would wait upon and assist
Eveena whenever the latter would accept her attendance. When the whole
party were assembled, it was her wont to choose her place not in the
circle, still less at my side—Eveena's title to the post of honour on
the left being uncontested, and Eunané generally occupying the
cushions on my right. But Eivé, lying at our feet, would support
herself on her arm between my knee and Eunané's, content to attract my
hand to play with her curls or stroke her head. Under such
encouragement she would creep on to my lap and rest there, but seldom
took any part in conversation, satisfied with the attention one pays
half-consciously to a child. A word that dropped from Enva, however,
on one occasion, obliged me to observe that it was in Eveena's absence
that Eivé always seemed most fully aware of her privileges and most
lavish of her childlike caresses. The kind of notice and affection she
obtained did not provoke the envy even of Leenoo or Eiralé. She no
more affected to imitate Eveena's absolute devotion than she ventured
on Eunané's reckless petulance. She kept my interest alive by the
faults of a spoiled child. Her freaks were always such as to demand
immediate repression without provoking serious displeasure, so that
the temporary disgrace cost her little, and the subsequent
reconciliation strengthened her hold on my heart. But with Eveena, or
in her presence, Eivé's waywardness was so suppressed or controlled
that Eveena's perceptible coolness towards her—it was never coldness
or unkindness—somewhat surprised me.