The Judgment House | Page 4

with too much intelligence
to carry her will and power too far. Infinite adaptability had been the
result of a desire to please and charm; behind which lay an unlimited
determination to get her own way and bend other wills to hers.
The two wills she had not yet bent as she pleased were those of her
stepmother and of Ian Stafford--one, because she was jealous and
obstinate, and the other because he had an adequate self-respect and an
ambition of his own to have his way in a world which would not give
save at the point of the sword. Come of as good family as there was in
England, and the grandson of a duke, he still was eager for power,
determined to get on, ingenious in searching for that opportunity which
even the most distinguished talent must have, if it is to soar high above
the capable average. That chance, the predestined alluring opening had
not yet come; but his eyes were wide open, and he was ready for the
spring--nerved the more to do so by the thought that Jasmine would
appreciate his success above all others, even from the standpoint of
intellectual appreciation, all emotions excluded. How did it come that
Jasmine was so worldly wise, and yet so marvellously the insouciant
child?
He followed her slow, reflective glance at Byng, and the impression of
force and natural power of the millionaire struck him now, as it had
often done. As though summoned by them both, Byng turned his face
and, catching Jasmine's eyes, smiled and leaned forward.
"I haven't got over that great outburst of singing yet," he said, with a
little jerk of the head towards the stage, where, for the moment, minor
characters were in possession, preparing the path for the last rush of
song by which Al'mah, the new prima donna, would bring her first
night to a complete triumph.
With face turned full towards her, something of the power of his head
seemed to evaporate swiftly. It was honest, alert, and almost brutally
simple--the face of a pioneer. The forehead was broad and strong, and
the chin was square and determined; but the full, dark-blue eyes had in
them shadows of rashness and recklessness, the mouth was somewhat
self-indulgent and indolent; though the hands clasping both knees were

combined of strength, activity, and also a little of grace.
"I never had much chance to hear great singers before I went to South
Africa," he added, reflectively, "and this swallows me like a storm on
the high veld--all lightning and thunder and flood. I've missed a lot in
my time."
With a look which made his pulses gallop, Jasmine leaned over and
whispered--for the prima donna was beginning to sing again:
"There's nothing you have missed in your race that you cannot ride
back and collect. It is those who haven't run a race who cannot ride
back. You have won; and it is all waiting for you."
Again her eyes beamed upon him, and a new sensation came to
him--the kind of thing he felt once when he was sixteen, and the vicar's
daughter had suddenly held him up for quite a week, while all his
natural occupations were neglected, and the spirit of sport was
humiliated and abashed. Also he had caroused in his time--who was
there in those first days at Kimberley and on the Rand who did not
carouse, when life was so hard, luck so uncertain, and food so bad;
when men got so dead beat, with no homes anywhere--only
shake-downs and the Tents of Shem? Once he had had a native woman
summoned to be his slave, to keep his home; but that was a business
which had revolted him, and he had never repeated the experiment.
Then, there had been an adventuress, a wandering, foreign princess
who had fooled him and half a dozen of his friends to the top of their
bent; but a thousand times he had preferred other sorts of
pleasures--cards, horses, and the bright outlook which came with the
clinking glass after the strenuous day.
Jasmine seemed to divine it all as she looked at him--his primitive,
almost Edenic sincerity; his natural indolence and native force: a nature
that would not stir until greatly roused, but then, with an unyielding
persistence and concentrated force, would range on to its goal, making
up for a slow-moving intellect by sheer will, vision and a gallant heart.
Al'mah was singing again, and Byng leaned forward eagerly. There was

a rustle in the audience, a movement to a listening position, then a tense
waiting and attention.
As Jasmine composed herself she said in a low voice to Ian Stafford,
whose well-proportioned character, personality, and refinement of
culture were in such marked contrast to the personality of