None for a long while. I had it conveyed to my kindred and to
an old friend that I had disappeared from Paris--gone eastward, Heaven
knew where--probably Crim Tartary! So my own world at least, as far as
I am concerned, will be off the scent. That was in the winter. I have
really heard nothing for months.... When the dawn comes up and we are
all rich and famed and gay, _my-lorded_ from John o' Groat's House to
Land's End--then, Warburton, then--"
"Then?"
"Then we'll be good!" Ian laughed. "Don't you want, sometimes, to be
good, Warburton? Wise--and simple. Doesn't it rise before you in the
night with a most unearthly beauty?"
"Oh, I think I am so-so good!" answered the other. "So-so bad, so-so
good. What puts you in this strain?"
"Tell me and I will tell you! And now I'm going to Scotland, into the
Highlands, to paint a prince who, when he's king, will, no manner of
doubt, wear the tartan and make every thane of Glamis thane of Cawdor
likewise!... One half the creature's body is an old, childish loyalty,
and the other half's ambition. The creature's myself. There are also
bars and circles and splashes of various colors, dark and bright.
Sometimes it dreams of wings--wings of an archangel, no less,
Warburton! The next moment there seems to be an impotency to produce
even beetle wings!... What a weathercock and variorum I am, thou art,
he is!"
"We're no worse than other men," said Warburton, comfortably.
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