"How are you called?" she inquired suddenly on this; and after hearing the answer, remarked that the name was known to her as that of a goodly and noble youth who had perished for the sake of Hero.
"The gentleman may have been a connection of mine, for all I know," he said; "the Tweddles have always kep' themselves respectable. But I'm not a hero myself, I'm a hairdresser."
She repeated the word thoughtfully, though she did not seem to quite comprehend it; and indeed it is likely enough that, however intelligible she was to Leander, the understanding was far from being entirely reciprocal.
She extended her hand to him, smiling not ungraciously. "Leander," she said, "cease to tremble, for a great happiness is yours. Bold have you been; yet am I not angered, for I come. Cast, then, away all fear, and know that Aphrodite disdains not to accept a mortal's plighted troth!"
Leander entrenched himself promptly behind the armchair. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he said. "How can I help fearing, with you coming down on me like this? Ask yourself."
"Can you not understand that your prayer is heard?" she demanded.
"_What_ prayer?" cried Leander.
"Crass and gross-witted has the world grown!" said she; "a Greek swain would have needed but few words to divine his bliss. Know, then, that your suit is accepted; never yet has Aphrodite turned the humblest from her shrine. By this symbol," and she lightly touched the ring, "you have given yourself to me. I accept the offering--you are mine!"
Leander was stupefied by such an unlooked-for misconception. He could scarcely believe his ears; but he hastened to set himself right at once.
"If you mean that you were under the impression that I meant anything in particular by putting that ring on, it was all a mistake, mum," he said.
"I shouldn't have presumed to it!"
"Were you the lowliest of men, I care not," she replied; "to you I owe the power I now enjoy of life and vision, nor shall you find me ungrateful. But forbear this false humility; I like it not. Come, then, Leander, at the bidding of Cypris; come, and fear nothing!"
But he feared very much, for he had seen the operas of _Don Giovanni_ and _Zampa_, and knew that any familiarity with statuary was likely to have unpleasant consequences. He merely strengthened his defences with a chair.
"You must excuse me, mum, you must indeed," he faltered; "I can't come!"
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I've other engagements," he replied.
"I remember," she said slowly, "in the grove, when light met my eyes once more, there was a maid with you, one who laughed and was merry.
Answer--is she your love?"
"No, she isn't," he said shortly. "What if she was?"
"If she were," observed the goddess, with the air of one who mentioned an ordinary fact, "I should crush her!"
"Lord bless me!" cried Leander, in his horror. "What for?"
"Would not she be in my path? and shall any mortal maid stand between me and my desire?"
This was a discovery. She was a jealous and vengeful goddess; she would require to be sedulously humoured, or harm would come.
"Well, well," he said soothingly, "there's nothing of that sort about her, I do assure you."
"Then I spare her," said the goddess. "But how, then, if this be truly so, do you still shrink from the honour before you?"
Leander felt a natural unwillingness to explain that it was because he was engaged to a young lady who kept the accounts at a florist's.
"Well, the fact is," he said awkwardly, "there's difficulties in the way."
"Difficulties? I can remove them all!" she said.
"Not _these_ you can't, mum. It's like this: You and me, we don't start, so to speak, from the same basin. I don't mean it as any reproach to you, but you can't deny you're an Eathen, and, worse than that, an Eathen goddess. Now all my family have been brought up as chapel folk, Primitive Methodists, and I've been trained to have a horror of superstition and idolatries, and see the folly of it. So you can see for yourself that we shouldn't be likely to get on together!"
"You talk words," she said impatiently; "but empty are they, and meaningless to my ears. One thing I learn from them--that you seek to escape me!"
"That's putting it too harsh, mum," he protested. "I'm sure I feel the honour of such a call; and, by the way, do you mind telling me how you got my address--how you found me out, I mean?"
"No one remains long hid from the searching eye of the high gods," she replied.
"So I should be inclined to say," agreed Leander. "But only tell me this, wasn't it you in the omnibus? We call our public conveyances omnibuses, as perhaps you mayn't know."
"I, sea-born Aphrodite, _I_ in a public conveyance, an omnibus? There is an impiety in such a question!"
"Well, I only thought it might have been," he stammered, rather relieved upon the whole that it was not the goddess who had seen his precipitate bolt from the vehicle. Who the female in the corner really was, he never knew; though a man of science might account for the resemblance she bore to the statue by ascribing it to one of those preparatory impressions projected occasionally by a strong personality upon a weak one. But Leander was content to leave the matter unexplained.
"Let it suffice you," she said, "that I am here; and once more, Leander, are you prepared to fulfil the troth you have plighted?"
"I--I can't say I am," he said. "Not that I don't feel thankful for having had the refusal of so very 'igh-class an opportunity; but, as I'm situated at present--what with the state of trade, and unbelief so rampant, and all--I'm obliged to decline with respectful thanks."
He trusted that after this she would see the propriety of going.
"Have a care!" she said; "you are young and not uncomely, and my heart pities you. Do nothing rash. Pause, ere you rouse the implacable ire of Aphrodite!"
"Thank you," said Leander; "if you'll allow me, I will. I don't want any ill-feeling, I'm sure. It's my wish to live peaceable with all men."
"I leave you, then. Use the time before you till I come again in thinking well whether he acts wisely who spurns the proffered hand of Idalian Aphrodite. For the present, farewell, Leander!"
He was overjoyed at his coming deliverance. "Good evening, mum," he said, as he ran to the door and held it open. "If you'll allow me, I'll light you down the staircase--it's rather dark, I'm afraid."
"_Fool!_,'" she said with scorn, and without stirring from her place; and, as she spoke the word, the veil seemed to descend over her face again, the light faded out, and, with a slight shudder, the figure imperceptibly resumed its normal attitude, the drapery stiffened once more into chiselled folds, and the statue was soulless as are statues generally.
FROM BAD TO WORSE
IV.
"And the shadow flits and fleets, And will not let me be, And I loathe the squares and streets!"
_Maud._
For some time after the statue had ceased to give signs of life, the hairdresser remained gaping, incapable of thought or action. At last he ventured to approach cautiously, and on touching the figure, found it perfectly cold and hard. The animating principle had plainly departed, and left the statue a stone.
"She's gone," he said, "and left her statue behind her! Well, of all the _goes_----She's come out without her pedestal, too! To be sure, it would have been in her way, walking."