Divine Fire

CHAPTER I JEWDWINE had made the most remarkable of his many remarkable discoveries. At least he thought he had. He could not be quite sure, which was his excuse for referring it to his cousin Lucia, whose instinct he would not call it judgment in these matters was infallible, Strangely infallible for so young a girl. What, he wondered, would she say to Savage Keith Rickman On Saturday, when he first came down into Devonshire, he would have been glad to know. But to-day, which was a Tuesday, he was not interested in Rickman. To eat strawberries all morning to lie out in the hammock all afternoon under the beech-tree on the lawn of Court House to let the peace of the old green garden sink into him to look at Lucia and forget, utterly forget, about his work the making of discoveries, that was what he wanted. But Lucia wanted to talk, and to talk about Rickman earnestly as if he were a burning question, when, even lying in the hammock, Jewdwine was so hot that it bothered him to talk at all. He was beginning to be sorry that he had introduced him the exciting topic, that is to say, not the man for Rickman you could scarcely introduce, not at any rate to Lucia Harden. Well, Lucia. He pronounced her name in the Italian manner, Loo-chee-a, with a languid stress on the vowels, 2 The Divine Fire and his tone conveyed a certain weary but polite forbearance. Lucia herself, he noticed, had an ardent look, as if a particularly interesting idea had just occurred to her. He wished it hadnt. An idea of Lucias would commit him to an opinion of his own and at the moment Jewdwine was not prepared to abandon himself to anything so definite and irretrievable. He had not yet made up his mind about Rickman, and did not want to make it up now. Certainty was impossible, owing to his somewhat embarrassing acquaintance with the man. That, again, was where Lucia had come in. Her vision of him would be free and undis- turbed by any suggestion of his bodily presence. Meanwhile, Rickmans poem, or rather the first two Acts of his neo-classic drama, Helen in Leuce, lay on Lucias lap. Jewdwine had obtained it under protest and with much secrecy. He had promised Rickman, solemnly, not to show it to a soul but he had shown it to Lucia. It was all right, he said, so long as he refrained from disclosing the name of the person who had written it. Not that she would have been any the wiser if he had. And it was you who discovered him Her voice lingered with a peculiarly tender and agreeable vibration on the you. He closed his eyes and let that, too, sink into him. Yes, he murmured, nobody else has had a hand in it as yet. And what are you going to do with him now you have discovered him He opened his eyes, startled by the uncomfortable suggestion. It had not yet occurred to him that the discovery of Rickman could entail any responsibility whatever. I dont know that Im going to do anything with him. Unless some day I use him for an article. Oh, Horace, is that the way you treat your friends He smiled. Yes, Lucy, sometimes, when they deserve it. You havent told me your friends name No. I betrayed his innocent confidence sufficiently in showing you his play. I cant tell you his name. After all, his name doesnt matter. No, it doesnt matter. Very likely youll hear enough of it some day. You havent told me what you think of him. Disjecta Membra Poetae 3 I dont know what I think But then, I dont know him. No, he said, roused to interest by her hesitation, you dont know him. Thats the beauty of it...


Genre: Literary Fiction