They watched him and they watched Amanda with a solicitude that seemed at once pained and tender.And there was something about Amanda, a kind of hard brightness, an impartiality and an air of something undefinably suspended, that gave Benham an intuitive certitude that that afternoon Sir Philip would be spoken to privately, and that then he would pack up and go away in a state of illumination from Chexington.But before he could be spoken to he contrived to speak to Benham.
They were left to smoke after lunch, and then it was he took advantage of a pause to commit his little indiscretion.
"Mrs.Benham," he said, "looks amazingly well--extraordinarily well, don't you think?""Yes," said Benham, startled."Yes.She certainly keeps very well.""She misses you terribly," said Sir Philip; "it is a time when a woman misses her husband.But, of course, she does not want to hamper your work...."Benham felt it was very kind of him to take so intimate an interest in these matters, but on the spur of the moment he could find no better expression for this than a grunt.
"You don't mind," said the young man with a slight catch in the breath that might have been apprehensive, "that I sometimes bring her books and flowers and things? Do what little I can to keep life interesting down here? It's not very congenial....She's so wonderful--I think she is the most wonderful woman in the world."Benham perceived that so far from being a modern aristocrat he was really a primitive barbarian in these matters.
"I've no doubt," he said, "that my wife has every reason to be grateful for your attentions."In the little pause that followed Benham had a feeling that Sir Philip was engendering something still more personal.If so, he might be constrained to invert very gently but very firmly the bowl of chrysanthemums over Sir Philip's head, or kick him in an improving manner.He had a ridiculous belief that Sir Philip would probably take anything of the sort very touchingly.He scrambled in his mind for some remark that would avert this possibility.
"Have you ever been in Russia?" he asked hastily."It is the most wonderful country in Europe.I had an odd adventure near Kiev.
During a pogrom."
And he drowned the developing situation in a flood of description....
But it was not so easy to drown the little things that were presently thrown out by Lady Marayne.They were so much more in the air....
18
Sir Philip suddenly got out of the picture even as Benham had foreseen.
"Easton has gone away," he remarked three days later to Amanda.
"I told him to go.He is a bore with you about.But otherwise he is rather a comfort, Cheetah." She meditated upon Sir Philip."And he's an HONOURABLE man," she said."He's safe...."19
After that visit it was that the notes upon love and *** began in earnest.The scattered memoranda upon the perfectness of heroic love for the modern aristocrat ended abruptly.Instead there came the first draft for a study of jealousy.The note was written in pencil on Chexington notepaper and manifestly that had been supported on the ribbed cover of a book.There was a little computation in the corner, converting forty-five degrees Reaumur into degrees Fahrenheit, which made White guess it had been written in the Red Sea.But, indeed, it had been written in a rather *******ishly stoked corridor-train on Benham's journey to the gathering revolt in Moscow....
"I think I have been disposed to underrate the force of sexual jealousy....I thought it was something essentially contemptible, something that one dismissed and put behind oneself in the mere effort to be aristocratic, but I begin to realize that it is not quite so easily settled with....
"One likes to know....Possibly one wants to know too much....In phases of fatigue, and particularly in phases of sleeplessness, when one is leaving all that one cares for behind, it becomes an irrational torment....
"And it is not only in oneself that I am astonished by the power of this base motive.I see, too, in the queer business of Prothero how strongly jealousy, how strongly the sense of proprietorship, weighs with a man....
"There is no clear reason why one should insist upon another human being being one's ownest own--utterly one's own....
"There is, of course, no clear reason for most human motives....
"One does....
"There is something dishonouring in distrust--to both the distrusted and the one who distrusts...."After that, apparently, it had been too hot and stuffy to continue.
20
Benham did not see Amanda again until after the birth of their child.He spent his Christmas in Moscow, watching the outbreak, the fitful fighting and the subsequent break-up, of the revolution, and taking care of a lost and helpless English family whose father had gone astray temporarily on the way home from Baku.Then he went southward to Rostov and thence to Astrakhan.Here he really began his travels.He determined to get to India by way of Herat and for the first time in his life rode out into an altogether lawless wilderness.He went on obstinately because he found himself disposed to funk the journey, and because discouragements were put in his way.He was soon quite cut off from all the ways of living he had known.He learnt what it is to be flea-bitten, saddle-sore, hungry and, above all, thirsty.He was haunted by a dread of fever, and so contrived strange torments for himself with overdoses of quinine.He ceased to be traceable from Chexington in March, and he reappeared in the form of a telegram from Karachi demanding news in May.He learnt he was the father of a man-child and that all was well with Amanda.
