The Hill of Illusion
A God, a God their severance ruled,
And bade between their shores to be
The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea.
—Matthew Arnold.
He. Tell your jhampanies not to hurry so, dear. They forget I’m fresh from the Plains.
She. Sure proof that I have not been going out with any one. Yes, they are an untrained crew. Where do we go?
He. As usual—to the world’s end. No, Jakko.
She. Have your pony led after you, then. It’s a long round.
He. And for the last time, thank Heaven!
She. Do you mean that still? I didn’t dare to write to you about it—all these months.
He. Mean it! I’ve been shaping my affairs to that end since Autumn. What makes you speak as though it had occurred to you for the first time?
She. I? Oh! I don’t know. I’ve had long enough to think, too.
He. And you’ve changed your mind?
She. No. You ought to know that I am a miracle of constancy. What are your—arrangements?
He. Ours, Sweetheart, please.
She. Ours, be it then. My poor boy, how the prickly heat has marked your forehead! Have you ever tried sulphate of copper in water?
He. It’ll go away in a day or two up here. The arrangements are simple enough. Tonga in the early morning—reach Kalka at twelve—Umballa at seven—down, straight by night train, to Bombay, and then the steamer of the 21st for Rome. That’s my idea. The Continent and Sweden—a ten-week honeymoon.
She. Ssh! Don’t talk of it in that way. It makes me afraid. Guy, how long have we two been insane?
He. Seven months and fourteen days, I forget the odd hours exactly, but I’ll think.
She. I only wanted to see if you remembered. Who are those two on the Blessington Road?
He. Eabrey and the Penner Woman. What do they matter to us? Tell me everything that you’ve been doing and saying and thinking.
She. Doing little, saying less, and thinking a great deal. I’ve hardly been out at all.
He. That was wrong of you. You haven’t been moping?
She. Not very much. Can you wonder that I’m disinclined for amusement?
He. Frankly, I do. Where was the difficulty?
She. In this only. The more people I know and the more I’m known here, the wider spread will be the news of the crash when it comes. I don’t like that.
He. Nonsense. We shall be out of it.
She. You think so?
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