Page 137 - Life of Gertrude Bell

ENCOUNTER 1^3
He reverted to his curious vision in another letter: * ... and she
of the second night was a long, shadowy woman thing that swept
and swept across my bed like a hawk, stooping and said nothing,
and I didn’t know who the devil she was, but she meant attack,
and I wanted the light... ’
It is a pity that in attempting to reconstruct the story of their
relationship we have to rely chiefly on his side of the story, not
Gertrude’s, whose life is otherwise almost over-documented.
But Doughty-Wylie was a married man and her letters could
hardly be paraded or easily kept, though he claimed overtness
with his wife at this time. On August 22nd he writes: ‘My dear.
This shall go to speak with you at Naworth — to give you my love
and a kiss as if I were a child or you were ... Yes for a little time
we are alone but it’s only a little time. Judith knowing you well
and having always before seen your letters would find it very
odd to be suddenly debarred them and on voyages our lives are
at close quarters ... ’
There is no doubt that Gertrude was deeply and passionately
involved and she may perhaps have been urging him to some
decisive break at this time. Her letters, had they not been des­
troyed, would almost certainly have painted a picture of a woman
who was desperate in her devotion and driven by an overwhelming
desire to bring this of all her relationships to a successful con­
clusion. She was, after all, in her forty-sixth year. Yet, even in the
intimacy which shows through his letters, there was still a note
of formality in the affair. On August 26th, in the absence of the
expected daily letter, he wrote: ‘A blank day, my dear. I am
tempted to wonder —did I say too much? Or was it that you
thought the time had passed? Or were you too occupied? Away
with all such things. In the chains we live in —or I live in—it is
wise and right to wear them easily.’
Next day, the time of his departure for Albania drawing close,
he discusses their mode of address when he was abroad: ‘Of
course call me Dick in letters and I shall call you Gertrude —
there is nothing in that — many people do — my wife doesn’t see
my letters as a rule, but as she often writes to you herself we have
always passed them across—but oh how I shall miss them! ... We
look over the edge of a dream — a thing lovely and to be desired ...
There is another thing that has to be done—tonight I shall
destroy your letters—I hate it—but it is right —one might die or
something, and they are not for any soul but me...’