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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:05 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:05 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12484-0.txt b/12484-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8429510 --- /dev/null +++ b/12484-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15178 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12484 *** + +THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS + +By ETHEL M. DELL + +Author of "The Way Of An Eagle" + +1912 + + + + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY FRIEND AND SISTER IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF +HER SYMPATHY AND HELP + + + + +O Charity, all patiently + Abiding wrack and scaith! +O Faith that meets ten thousand cheats + Yet drops no jot of faith! +Devil and brute Thou dost transmute + To higher, lordlier show, +Who art in sooth that lovely Truth + The careless angels know! + +_To the True Romance_. + +RUDYARD KIPLING + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + + +CHAPTER + + I.--THE MISSING HEART + + II.--THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + III.--THE CHARIOT OF THE GODS + + IV.--CAKE MORNING + + V.--THE FIRST ENCOUNTER + + VI.--AT THE MEET + + VII.--THE FALL + + VIII.--THE RIDE HOME + + IX.--THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE + + X.--THE HAND OF A FRIEND + + XI.--THE STING OF A SCORPION + + XII.--BROTHERS + + XIII.--THE JESTER'S INFERNO + + XIV.--A BIG THING + + XV.--THE CHAMPION + + XVI.--THE MASQUERADE + + XVII.--THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS + +XVIII.--THE DESCENT FROM OLYMPUS + + XIX.--VENGEANCE + + XX.--THE VISION + + XXI.--AT THE MERCY OF A DEMON + + XXII.--THE CITY OF REFUGE + + +PART II + + + I.--THE JESTER'S RETURN + + II.--THE KERNEL OF THE DIFFICULTY + + III.--THE FIRST ORDEAL + + IV.--THE FATAL STREAK + + V.--THE TOKEN + + VI.--THE BURIAL OF A HATCHET + + VII.--A QUESTION OF TRUST + + VIII.--A SUDDEN BLOW + + IX.--THE BOON + + X.--A DAY IN PARADISE + + XI.--THE RETURN TO EARTH + + XII.--IN THE FACE OF THE GODS + + XIII.--AN APPEAL AND ITS ANSWER + + XIV.--THE IRRESISTIBLE + + XV.--ON THE EDGE OF THE PIT + + XVI.--DELIVERANCE + + +PART III + + + I.--THE POWER DIVINE + + II.--THE WORKER OF MIRACLES + + III.--THE WOMAN'S PART + + IV.--THE MESSAGE + + V.--THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND + + VI.--A VOICE THAT CALLED + + VII.--THE UNINVITED GUEST + + VIII.--THE HEART OF A SAVAGE + + IX.--THE DIVINE SPARK + + X.--THE QUEEN'S PARDON + + XI.--SOMETHING GREAT + + XII.--A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING + + XIII.--THE FINAL DEFEAT + + XIV.--AT THE GATE OF DEATH + + XV.--THE KING'S DECREE + + XVI.--THE STRAIGHT GAME + + XVII.--THE TRANSFORMING MAGIC + +XVIII.--THE LAST ORDEAL + + XIX.--OUT OF THE FURNACE + + XX.--THE PROMOTION OF THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + XXI.--THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS + + + + + +PART I + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MISSING HEART + + +There came a sudden blare of music from the great ballroom below, and the +woman who stood alone at an open window on the first floor shrugged her +shoulders and shivered a little. The night air blew in brisk and cold +upon her uncovered neck, but except for that slight, involuntary shiver +she scarcely seemed aware of it. The room behind her was brilliantly +lighted but empty. Some tables had been set for cards, but the cards were +untouched. Either the attractions of the ballroom had remained +omnipotent, or no one had penetrated to this refuge of the bored--no one +save this tall and stately woman robed in shimmering, iridescent green, +who stood with her face to the night, breathing the chill air as one who +had been on the verge of suffocation. It was evidently she who had flung +up the window. Her gloved hands leaned upon the woodwork on each side of +it. There was a certain constraint in her whole attitude, a tension that +was subtly evident in every graceful line. Her head was slightly bent as +though she intently watched or listened for something. + +Yet nothing could have been audible where she stood above the hubbub of +music, laughter, and stamping feet that rose from below. It filled the +night with uproar. Nor was there anything but emptiness in the narrow +side-street into which she looked. + +The door of the room was ajar and gradually swinging wider in the +draught. Very soon it would be wide enough for anyone passing in the +passage outside to spy the slim figure that stood so motionless before +the open window. It was almost wide enough now. Surely it was wide +enough, for suddenly it ceased to move. The draught continued to eddy +round the room, stirring the soft brown hair about the woman's temples, +but the door stood still as at the behest of an unseen hand. + +For fully half a minute nothing happened; then as suddenly and silently +as a picture flashed from a magic lantern slide, a man's head came into +view. A man's eyes, dusky, fierce, with something of a stare in them, +looked the motionless figure keenly up and down. + +There followed another interval as though the intruder were debating +with himself upon some plan of action, then, boldly but quite quietly, he +pushed the door back and entered. + +He was a slight, trim man, clean-shaven, with high cheek-bones that made +a long jaw seem the leaner by contrast. His sleek black hair was parted +in the middle above his swarthy face, giving an unmistakably foreign +touch to his appearance. His tread was light and wary as a cat's. + +His eyes swept the room comprehensively as he advanced, coming back +to the woman at the window as though magnetically drawn to her. But +she remained quite unaware of him, and he, no whit disconcerted, +calmly seated himself at one of the tables behind her and took up a +pack of cards. + +The dance-music in the room below was uproariously gay. Some of the +dancers were singing. Now and then a man's voice bellowed through the +clamour like the blare of a bull. + +Whenever this happened, the man at the table smiled to himself a faint, +thin-lipped smile, and the woman at the window shivered again. + +Suddenly, during a lull, he spoke. He was counting out the cards into +heaps with lightning rapidity, turning up one here and there, and he did +not raise his eyes from his occupation. + +"I say, you know," he said in a drawl that was slightly nasal, "you will +have to tell me how old you are. Is that an obstacle?" + +She wheeled round at the first deliberate syllable. The electric +light flared upon her pale, proud face. She stood in dead silence, +looking at him. + +"You mustn't mind," he said persuasively, still without lifting his eyes. +"I swear I'll never tell. Come now!" + +Very quietly she turned and closed the window; then with a certain +stateliness she advanced to the table at which he sat, and stopped +before it. + +"I think you are making a mistake," she said, in a voice that had a hint +of girlish sweetness about it despite its formality. + +He looked up then with a jerk, and the next instant was on his feet. + +"Gad! I'm tremendously sorry! What must you take me for? I took you for +Mrs. Damer. I beg you will forgive me." + +She smiled a little, and some of the severity went out of her face. For a +moment that too seemed girlish. + +"It is of no consequence. I saw it was a mistake." + +"An idiotic mistake!" he declared with emphasis. "And you are not a bit +like Mrs. Damer either. Are you waiting for someone? Would you like me to +clear out?" + +"Certainly not. I am going myself." + +"Oh, but don't!" he begged her very seriously. "I shall take it horribly +to heart if you do. And really, I don't deserve such a snub as that." + +Again she faintly smiled. "I am not feeling malicious, but you are +expecting your partner. And I--" + +"No, I am not," he asserted. "My partner has basely deserted me for +another fellow. I came in here merely because I was wandering about +seeking distraction. Please don't go--unless I bore you--in which case +you have only to dismiss me." + +She turned her eyes questioningly upon the cards before him. "What are +you doing with them? Is it a game?" + +"Won't you sit down?" he said, "and I will tell you." + +She seated herself facing him. "Well?" + +He considered the cards for a little, his brows bent. Then, "It is a +magician's game," he said. "Let me read your fortune." + +She hesitated. + +Instantly he looked up. "You are not afraid?" + +She met his look, a certain wistfulness in her grey eyes. "Oh, no, not +afraid--only sceptical." + +"Only sceptical!" he echoed. "That is a worldwide complaint. But anyone +with imagination can always pretend. You are not good at pretending?" + +"Not particularly." + +His eyes challenged hers. "Perhaps you have never needed an anaesthetic?" +he said coolly. + +She looked slightly startled. "What do you mean?" + +He leaned deliberately forward across the table. "You know what an +anaesthetic does, don't you? It cheats the senses of pain. And a little +humbug does the same for the mind. Of course you don't believe anything. +I don't myself. But you can't stand for ever and contemplate an abyss of +utter ignorance. You must weave a little romance about it for the sake of +your self-respect." + +She looked straight into the challenging eyes. The wistfulness was still +in her own. "Then you are offering to weave a little romance for me?" she +said, with a faint involuntary sigh. + +He made her a brief bow. "If you will permit me to do so." + +"To relieve your boredom?" she suggested with a smile. + +"And yours," he smiled back, taking up the cards. + +She did not contradict him. She only lowered her eyes to the deft hands +that were disposing the cards in mystic array upon the table. + +There followed a few moments of silence; then in his careless, unmusical +drawl the man spoke. + +"Do you mind telling me your first name? It is essential to the game, of +course, or I shouldn't presume to ask." + +"My name is Anne," she said. + +The noise below had lessened considerably, and this fact seemed to cause +her some relief. The tension had gone out of her bearing. She sat with +her chin upon her hand. + +Not a beautiful woman by any means, she yet possessed that indescribable +charm which attracts almost in spite of itself. There was about her +every movement a queenly grace that made her remarkable, and yet she was +plainly not one to court attention. Her face in repose had a look of +unutterable weariness. + +"How old are you please?" said the magician. + +"Twenty-five." + +He glanced up at her. + +"Yes, twenty-five," she repeated. "I am twenty-five to-day." + +He looked at her fixedly for a few seconds, then in silence returned to +his cards. + +She continued to watch him without much interest. The dance-music was +quickening to the _finale_. The hubbub of voices had died away. Evidently +a good many people had ceased to dance. + +Suddenly her companion spoke. "Do you like diamonds?" + +She smiled at the question. "Yes, I like them. I haven't a passion +for them." + +"No," he said, without raising his eyes. "You haven't a passion for +anything at present. You will have soon." + +"I think it very unlikely," she said. + +"Of course you do." He was manoeuvring the cards rapidly with one hand. +"Your eyes have not been opened yet. I see an exciting time before you. +You are going to have an illness first. That comes in the near future." + +"I have never been ill in my life," she said. + +"No? It will be an experience for you, then--not a very painful one, I +hope. Are you getting nervous?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Ah! That's as well, because here comes the King of Diamonds. He has +taken a decided fancy to you, and if you have any heart at all, which +I can't discover, you ought to end by being the Queen. No, here comes +the Knave--confound his impudence!--and, by Jove, yes, followed by the +missing heart. I am glad you have got one anyway, even if the King is +not in it. It looks as if you will have some trouble with that Knave, +so beware of him." He glanced up at her for a moment. "Beware of him!" +he repeated deliberately. "He is a dangerous scamp. The King is the +man for you." + +She received his caution with that faint smile of hers that softened her +face but never seemed to reach her eyes. + +He continued his contemplation of the cards in silence for some seconds. +"Yes," he said finally, "I see an exciting future before you. I hope you +will look out for me when you come into your own. I should value your +majesty's favour immensely." + +"I will give you a place at court as the Queen's jester," she said. + +He glanced up again sharply, met her smile, and bowed with much ceremony. +"Your majesty's most humble servant!" he declared, "I enter upon my +functions from this day forward. You will see my cap and bells in the +forefront of the throng when you ride to your coronation." + +"You are sure there will be a coronation?" she asked. + +"It is quite evident," he replied with conviction. + +"Even though I chance to be married already?" + +He raised his brows. "That so?" he drawled. "Well, it rather complicates +matters, doesn't it? Still--" He looked again at the cards. "It seems +pretty certain. If it weren't for that hobgoblin of a Knave I should say +it was quite so. He comes between the King and the heart, you see. I +shouldn't be too intimate with him if I were you." + +She rose, still smiling. "I shall certainly keep him at a respectful +distance," she said. "Good-bye." + +"Oh, are you going? Let me escort you! Really, I've nothing else to do." +He swept the cards together and sprang to his feet. "Where may I take +you? Would you like some refreshment?" + +She accepted his proffered arm though she instantly negatived his +proposal. "Shall we go down to the vestibule? No doubt you have a partner +for the next dance." + +"Have you?" he questioned keenly. + +"That is beside the point," she remarked. + +"Not at all. It is the centre and crux of the situation. Do say you are +disengaged for the next!" His manner became almost boyishly eager. He +had shed his drawl like a garment. "Say it!" he insisted. + +She stood in the doorway as one halting between two opinions. "But if I +am not disengaged?" she said. + +He laughed. "There is a remedy for that, I fancy. And the Queen can do +no wrong. Don't be a slave to the great god Convention! He's such a +hideous bore." + +His bold dark eyes smiled freely into hers. It was evident that he wasted +little time before the shrine of the deity he condemned. But for all +their mastery, they held a certain persuasive charm as well. She +hesitated a moment longer--and was lost. + +"Well, where shall we go?" + +"I know of an excellent sitting-out place if your majesty will deign to +accompany me," he said, "a corner where one can see without being +seen--always an advantage, you will allow." + +"You seem to know this place rather well," she observed, as she suffered +him to lead her away in triumph. + +He smiled shrewdly. "A wise general always studies his ground," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + +The chosen corner certainly had the advantage of privacy. It was an +alcove at the end of one of the long narrow passages in which the ancient +hostelry abounded, and the only light it boasted filtered through a +square aperture in the wall which once had held a window. Through this +aperture the curious could spy into the hall below, which just then was +thronged with dancers who were crowding out of the ballroom and drifting +towards the refreshment-room, the entrance to which was also visible. + +An ancient settee had been placed in this coign of vantage, and upon this +they established themselves by mutual consent. + +The man was laughing a little below his breath. "I feel like a +refugee," he said. + +His companion leaned her arms upon the narrow row sill and gazed +downwards. "A refugee from boredom?" she suggested. "We are all that, +more or less." + +"I dispute that," he said at once. "It is only the bores who are +ever bored." + +"And I dispute that," she replied, without turning, "of necessity, in +self-defence." + +He leaned forward to catch the light upon her profile. "You are bored?" + +She smiled faintly in the gloom. "That is why I have engaged the services +of a jester." + +"By Jove," he said, "I'm glad you pitched on me." + +She made a slight movement of impatience. "Isn't it rather futile to say +that sort of thing?" + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Because you know quite well it was not a matter of choice." + +"Rather a matter of _manque de mieux_?" he suggested coolly. + +She turned from her contemplation of the crowd below. "I am not going to +contradict you," she said, "I never foster _amour propre_ in a man. It is +always a plant of hardy growth." + +"'Hardy' is not the word," he declared. "Say 'rank,' and you will be +nearer the mark. I fully endorse your opinion. We are a race of +conceited, egotistical jackanapeses, and we all think we are going to +lick creation till a pretty woman comes along and makes us dance to her +piping like a row of painted marionettes. But is the pretty woman any +the happier, do you think, for tumbling us thus ruthlessly off our +pedestals? I sometimes wonder if the sight of the sawdust doesn't make +her wish she hadn't." + +The drawl in his voice was very apparent as he uttered the last sentence. +His chin was propped upon his hands. He was obviously studying her with a +deliberate criticism that observed and considered every detail. + +But his scrutiny held without embarrassing her. She met it with no +conscious effort. + +"I can't bear cynicism," she told him frankly. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Cynics--real cynics--never can." + +"But I am not a cynic." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Yes, quite sure." + +"And yet you tell me that you never take the trouble to flatter the +inferior male. That's conflicting evidence, you know. Are you a +man-hater, by the way?" + +She shivered as if at a sudden draught. "I'm not prepared to answer that +question off-hand." she said. + +"Very prudent of you!" he commented. "Do you know I owe you an apology?" + +"I shouldn't have said so." + +"No? Well, let me confess. I'm rather good at confessing. I didn't +believe you just now when you said you were twenty-five. Now I do. That +single streak of prudence was proof absolute and convincing." + +"I usually tell the truth," she said somewhat stiffly. + +"Yes, it takes a genius to lie properly. I am not so good at it myself as +I should like to be. But a woman of twenty-five ought not to look like a +princess of eighteen--a tired princess moreover, who ought to have been +sent to bed long ago." + +Her laugh had in it a note of bitterness. "You certainly are not the sort +of genius you aspire to be," she said, "any more than I am a princess of +eighteen." + +"But you will be a queen at thirty," he said. "Hullo! Here is someone +coming! Don't speak, and p'r'aps they won't discover us. They can't +stay long." + +He rose swiftly with the words and blocked the little spy-hole with +his body. Certainly footsteps were approaching, but they ceased before +they reached the alcove at the end of the passage. There was another +settee midway. + +"Oh, this is quite comfortable," said a woman's voice. "Here I am, Major +Shirley! It's dark, isn't it, but rather a relief after the glare +downstairs. What a crush it is! I am beginning to think the Hunt Ball +rather a farce, for it is next to impossible to dance." + +"People don't know how to dance nowadays," grumbled Major Shirley in +response. "I can't stand these American antics. That young Nap Errol +fairly sickens me." + +"Oh, but he is a splendid dancer," protested his partner tolerantly. + +"Oh course you say so," growled the Major. "All women like that horrid +little whipper-snapper. I can't see what in thunder they find to attract +them. I call him a downright cad myself, and I'm inclined to think him a +blackguard as well. He wouldn't be tolerated if it weren't for his +dollars, and they all belong to his brother, I'm told." + +"Ah! He is a charming man. Such a pity he is a cripple!" + +"He would probably be as insufferable as Nap if he weren't," rejoined the +Major gloomily. "I can't think what the County are coming to. They will +accept anybody nowadays, it seems to me. I even met that little bounder +at the Rifle Club the other day. Heaven knows how he got in. Dollars +again, I suppose, confound his audacity!" + +His partner made a slight movement of uneasiness. "I wonder where he +is. I haven't seen him for some time. I hope he isn't anywhere +within earshot." + +"Not he! He is stowed away in some corner well out of the way with his +latest conquest. He won't turn up again this evening. He never does when +once he goes to earth--the wily young fox." + +"Who is his latest conquest, I wonder?" mused the woman. "I thought it +was Mrs. Damer. But I have just seen her dancing with young Waring." + +"Mrs. Damer! Why, that was the day before yesterday!" The Major laughed +unpleasantly. "'Anyone for a change, but no one for long,' is his motto. +The fellow is an infernal bounder through and through. He will get a +sound hiding one of these days, and serve him jolly well right, say I!" + +"My dear Major, how you hate him! Anyone would think he had tried to +flirt with Violet." + +"He'd better," growled the Major. + +There came a slight sound from the darkness of the alcove, as though +someone faintly chuckled. + +"What's that?" asked the woman's voice nervously. + +"Nothing--nothing!" said the Major testily. "Somebody laughing in the +hall. I wonder where my wife is. I shall clear out soon. I'm tired of +this show. Haven't had a decent dance all the evening. Shouldn't think +you have either. They ought to build a Town Hall in this place, and do +the thing properly." + +"There is some talk of it, you know. Now that there is a millionaire in +the neighbourhood it really might be done. The Carfaxes would help too, I +am sure. Sir Giles is very open-handed." + +"Drunken beast!" commented the Major. "A pretty spectacle he has been +making of himself to-night. He is sitting in a corner of the +refreshment-room now absolutely incapable. He reached the noisy stage +very early in the evening. I am not sure that he even came sober." + +"No! Isn't it too pitiful for words? That young wife of his! I can't +think how she endures it. It must be positive martyrdom." + +"Lady Carfax is a fool!" said the Major crossly. "I can't stand these +martyrs. If she leads a dog's life it's her own fault. She's a fool to +put up with it." + +"Perhaps she can't help herself," pleaded the woman. + +"Stuff and nonsense! No woman need be the slave of a drunken sot like +that. It's a downright offence to me to be in the same room with the +fellow. He always reeks of drink. And she has, or professes to have, a +certain amount of refinement. Not much, I dare say. She was nothing but +his bailiff's daughter, you know, and people of that class don't +generally suffer from an exaggerated sense of duty. She probably sticks +to the man because she wants to keep in with the County. I don't like the +woman, never did. Her airs and graces always rub me up wrong way. Why +couldn't Sir Giles have married in his own set? He probably wouldn't be +so fond of the whiskey bottle now if he had." + +"I must say I like Lady Carfax," broke in the woman with decision. +"Whatever her origin, that queenliness of hers is not assumed. I believe +her to be intensely reserved, and, perhaps for that very reason, I have a +genuine admiration for her." + +"My dear Mrs. Randal, you'd find points to admire in a wax candle," +grunted the Major. "She always makes me think of one; pale and pure and +saintly--I can't stand the type. Let's go downstairs and find Violet." + +"Oh, not saintly, I think," protested Mrs. Randal charitably. "Saintly +people are so uninteresting." + +The Major laughed. He was already on his feet. + +"Probably not--probably not. But a show of saintliness is more than +enough to frighten me away. A woman who can't understand a wink I +invariably strike forthwith off my visiting-list." + +"How cruel of you!" laughed Mrs. Randal. They were already moving away +down the corridor. Her voice receded as they went. "But I can't +understand any man daring to wink at Lady Carfax; I can't, indeed." + +"That's just what I complain about," grumbled Major Shirley. "Those +wax-candle sort of women never see a joke. What fools they are to leave +the place in darkness like this! Can you see where you are going?" + +"Yes, we are just at the head of the stairs. It is rather foolish as you +say. People might hurt themselves." + +"Of course they might. Infernally dangerous. I shall complain." + +The voices fell away into distance; the band in the ballroom struck +up again, and the woman on the settee in the alcove sat up and +prepared to rise. + +"Suppose we go down now," she said. + +Her companion moved away from the little window as one coming out of a +reverie. "Our gallant Major Shirley seems somewhat disgruntled tonight," +he said. "Do you know him?" + +"Yes, I know him." Her words fell with icy precision. + +"So do I." The man's tone was one of sheer amusement. "I had the pleasure +of meeting him at the Rifle Club the other day. Someone introduced us. It +was great fun. If there were a little more light, I would show you what +he looked like. For some reason he wasn't pleased. Do you really want to +go downstairs though? It is much nicer here." + +She had risen. They were facing one another in the twilight. "Yes," she +said, and though still quiet her voice was not altogether even. "I want +to go, please." + +"Mayn't I tell you something first?" he said. + +She stood silent, evidently waiting for his communication. + +"It's not of paramount importance," he said. "But I think you may as well +know it for your present edification and future guidance. Madam, I am +that wicked, wanton, wily fox, that whipper-snapper, that unmitigated +bounder--Nap Errol!" + +He made the announcement with supreme complacence. It was evident that he +felt not the faintest anxiety as to how she would receive it. There was +even a certain careless hauteur about him as though the qualities he +thus frankly enumerated were to him a source of pride. + +She heard him with no sign of astonishment. "I knew it," she said +quietly. "I have known you by sight for some time." + +"And you were not afraid to speak to such a dangerous scoundrel?" he +said. + +"You don't strike me as being very formidable," she answered. "Moreover, +if you remember, it was you who spoke first." + +"To be sure," he said. "It was all of a piece with my habitual confounded +audacity. Shall I tell you something more? I wonder whether I dare." + +"Wait!" she said imperatively. "It is my turn to tell you something, +though it is more than possible that you know it already. Mr. Errol, I +am--Lady Carfax!" + +He bowed low. "I did know," he said, in a tone from which all hint of +banter had departed. "But I thank you none the less for telling me. I +much doubted if you would. And that brings me to my second--or is it my +third?--confession. I did not take you for Mrs. Damer in the card-room a +little while ago. I took you for no one but yourself. No man of ordinary +intelligence could do otherwise. But I had been wanting to make your +acquaintance all the evening, and no one would be kind enough to present +me. So I took the first opportunity that occurred, trusting to the end to +justify the means." + +"But why have you told me?" she said. + +"Because I think you are a woman who appreciates the truth." + +"I am," she said. "But I do not often hear it as I have heard it +to-night" + +He put out his hand to her impulsively. "Say, Lady Carfax, let me go and +kick that old scandal-monger into the middle of next week!" + +Involuntarily almost she gave her hand in return. "No, you mustn't," she +said, laughing faintly. "The fault was ours. You know the ancient adage +about listeners. We deserved it all." + +"Don't talk about deserts!" he exclaimed, with unexpected vehemence. "He +doesn't deserve to have a whole bone left in his body for speaking of you +so. Neither do I for suffering it in my presence!" + +She freed her hand gently. "You could not have done otherwise. Believe +me, I am not altogether sorry that you were with me when it happened. It +is just as well that you should know the truth, and I could not have told +it you myself. Come, shall we go down?" + +"Wait a minute!" he said. "Let me know how I stand with you first. Have +you decided to pass over that lie of mine, or are you going to cut me +next time we meet?" + +"I shall not cut you," she said. + +"You are going to acknowledge me then with the coldest of nods, which is +even more damnable," he returned, with gloomy conviction. + +She hesitated for an instant. Then, "Mr. Errol," she said gently, "will +you believe me when I say that, however I treat you in the future, that +lie of yours will in no way influence me? You have helped me much more +than you realise by your trifling to-night. I am not sure that you meant +to do so. But I am grateful to you all the same." + +"Then we are friends?" said Nap, quickly. + +"Yes, we are friends; but it is very unlikely that we shall meet again. I +cannot invite you to call." + +"And you won't call either on my mother?" he asked. + +"I am afraid not." + +He was silent a moment. Then, "So let it be!" he said. "But I fancy we +shall meet again notwithstanding. So _au revoir_, Lady Carfax! Can you +find your own way down?" + +She understood in an instant the motive that prompted the question, and +the impulse to express her appreciation of it would not be denied. She +extended her hand with an assumption of royal graciousness that did not +cloak her gratitude. "Good-bye, Sir Jester!" she said. + +He took her fingers gallantly upon his sleeve and touched them with his +lips. "Farewell to your most gracious majesty!" he responded. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CHARIOT OF THE GODS + + +The Hunt Ball was over, and Mrs. Damer, wife of the M.F.H., was +standing on the steps of the Carfax Arms, bidding the last members of +the Hunt farewell. + +Nap Errol was assisting her. He often did assist Mrs. Damer with that +careless, half-insolent gallantry of his that no woman ever dreamed of +resenting. Like his namesake of an earlier date he held his own wherever +he went by sheer, stupendous egotism. + +The crowd had thinned considerably, the band had begun to pack up. In the +refreshment-room waiters were hurrying to and fro. + +"Isn't it horrid?" laughed Mrs. Damer, shrugging her shoulders and +shivering. "One feels so demoralised at this end of the night. Nap, I +wish you would find my husband. I've said good-night to everybody, and I +want to go home to bed." + +"Lady Carfax hasn't gone yet," observed Nap. "I saw her standing in the +doorway of the ladies' cloak-room just now." + +"Lady Carfax! Are you sure? I thought they went long ago. Is their +carriage waiting then?" + +"Yes. It is still there." + +Mrs. Damer hastened into the ladies' cloak-room, still half-incredulous. + +At her entrance Anne Carfax, clad in a white wrap that made her face look +ghastly, turned from the dying fire. + +"My dear Lady Carfax!" exclaimed Mrs. Damer. "I quite thought you left +ages ago. What is it? Is anything the matter?" + +The pale lips smiled. "No, nothing, thank you. I am only waiting for +my husband." + +"Ah! Then we are in the same plight. I am waiting for mine." Mrs. Damer +hastened to veil her solicitude, which was evidently unwelcome. She +caught up her cloak and began to fumble with it. The attendant had gone. + +"Let me!" said Anne, in her quiet voice, and took it from her. + +Her fingers touched Mrs. Damer's neck, and Mrs. Damer shivered audibly. +"Thank you, thank you! You are as cold as ice. Are you well wrapped up?" + +"Yes, quite. I am never very warm, you know. It is not my nature. Is Mr. +Damer ready? I hope you will not delay your departure on my account. Sir +Giles will not be long, I think." + +"We will send Nap Errol to find him," said Mrs. Damer. + +"Oh, no, thank you. That is quite unnecessary. Please do not trouble +about me. A few minutes more or less make little difference." + +The words came with the patience of deadly weariness. She was still +faintly smiling as she wound a scarf about Mrs. Damer's head. + +"I am quite ready, you see," she said. "I shall leave the moment +he appears." + +"My dear Lady Carfax, you have the patience of a saint. I am afraid +Phil does not find me so long-suffering." Mrs. Damer bustled back into +the hall. "Are you there, Nap? Do see if you can find Sir Giles. Poor +Lady Carfax is half-dead with cold and fit to drop with fatigue. Go and +tell him so." + +"Please do nothing of the sort," said Lady Carfax behind her. "No doubt +he will come when he is ready." + +Nap Errol looked from one to the other with swift comprehension in his +glance. "Let me put you into your carriage first, Mrs. Damer," he said, +offering his arm. "Your husband is busy for the moment--some trifling +matter. He begs you will not wait for him. I will drive him back in my +motor. I have to pass your way, you know." + +Mrs. Damer shook hands hurriedly with Lady Carfax and went with him. +There was something imperative about Nap just then. They passed out +together on to the baize-covered pavement, and Anne Carfax breathed a +faint sigh of relief. + +A few seconds later the Damer carriage was clattering down the street, +and Nap Errol was once more by her side. + +"Look here," he said. "Let me take you home in my motor first. No one +will know." + +She looked at him, her lips quivering a little as though they still tried +to smile. "Thank you very much," she said. "But--I think not." + +"No one will ever know," he reiterated. "I will just set you down at your +own door and go away. Come, Lady Carfax!" His dark eyes gazed straight +into her own, determined, dominating. The high cheek-bones and long, lean +jaw looked as though fashioned in iron. + +"Come!" he said again. + +She made a slight forward movement as if to yield, and then drew back +again. "Really, I had better wait and go with my husband," she said. + +"You had better not!" he said with emphasis. "I have just seen him. He is +in the smoke-room. I won't tell you what he is like. You probably know. +But if you are a wise woman you will leave him for Damer to look after, +and come with me." + +That decided her. She threw the hood of her cloak over her head and +turned in silence to the door. + +Errol paused to pull on an overcoat and then followed her on to the +steps. A large covered motor had just glided up. He handed her into it. +"By Jove, you are cold!" he said. + +She made no rejoinder. + +He stepped in beside her, after a word with the chauffeur, and +shut the door. + +Almost instantly they were in motion, and in another moment were shooting +forward swiftly down the long, ill-lighted street. + +Anne Carfax sank back in her corner and lay motionless. The glare of the +little electric lamp upon her face showed it white and tired. Her eyes +were closed. + +The man beside her sat bolt upright, his eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the +window in front, his jaw set grimly. He held the gloves he had worn all +the evening between his hands, and his fingers worked at them +unceasingly. He was rending the soft kid to ribbons. + +They left the desolate street behind and came into total darkness. + +Suddenly, but very quietly, Anne spoke. "This is very kind of you, +Mr. Errol." + +He turned towards her. She had opened her eyes to address him, but the +lids drooped heavily. + +"The kindness is on your side, Lady Carfax," he said deliberately. "If +you manage to inspire it in others, the virtue is still your own." + +She smiled and closed her eyes again. It was evident that she did not +desire to talk. + +He looked away from her, glanced at his torn gloves, and tossed them +impatiently from him. + +For ten minutes neither spoke. The car ran smoothly on through the night +like an inspired chariot of the gods. There was no sound of wheels. They +seemed to be borne on wings. + +For ten minutes the man sat staring stonily before him, rigid as a +statue, while the woman lay passive by his side. + +But at the end of that ten minutes the speed began to slacken. They came +softly to earth and stopped. + +Errol opened the door and alighted. "Have you a key?" he said, as he gave +her his hand. + +She stood above him, looking downwards half-dreamily as one emerging from +a deep slumber. + +"Do you know," she said, beginning to smile, "I thought that you were the +Knave of Diamonds?" + +"You've been asleep," he said rather curtly. + +She gave a slight shudder as the night air brought her back, and in a +moment, like the soft dropping of a veil, her reserve descended upon her. + +"I am afraid I have," she said, "Please excuse me. Are we already at the +Manor? Yes, I have the key." + +She took his hand and stepped down beside him. + +"Good night, Mr. Errol," she said. "And thank you." + +He did not offer to accompany her to the door. A light was burning +within, and he merely stood till he heard the key turn in the lock, then +stepped back into the motor and slammed it shut without response of any +sort to her last words. + +Anne Carfax was left wondering if her dream had been a cause of offense. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CAKE MORNING + + +"Oh, bother! It's cake morning." Dot Waring turned from the Rectory +breakfast-table with a flourish of impatience. "And I do so want to hear +all about it," she said. "You might have come down earlier, Ralph." + +"My good sister," said the rector's son, helping himself largely to bread +and honey, "consider yourself lucky that I have come down at all after +dancing half the night with Mrs. Damer, who is no light weight." + +"You didn't, Ralph! I am quite sure you didn't! I'm not going to believe +anything so absurd." Nevertheless she paused on her way to the door for +further details. + +"All right. I didn't," said Ralph complacently. "And Sir Giles didn't get +drunk as a lord and tumble about the ballroom, and yell comic--awfully +comic--songs, till someone hauled him off to the refreshment-room and +filled him up with whiskey till he could sing no more!" + +"Oh, Ralph! Not really! How utterly beastly! Was Lady Carfax there?" + +"She was at first, but she cleared out. I don't know where she went to." + +"Oh, poor Lady Carfax! How horrid for her! Ralph, I--I could kick +that man!" + +"So could I," said Ralph heartily, "if someone would kindly hold him for +me. He is a drunken blackguard, and if he doesn't end in an asylum, I +shall never express a medical opinion again." + +"P'r'aps he'll die of apoplexy first," said Dot vindictively. + +"Whatever he dies of," said Ralph, "I shall attend his funeral with the +greatest pleasure. Hadn't you better go and make that cake? I shall want +it by tea-time." + +"You are a pig!" the girl declared, pushing the sunny hair back from her +gay young face. "Isn't Bertie late this morning? Perhaps he isn't coming. +Dad won't be able to take him anyhow, for old Squinny is bad again and +sent for him in a hurry." + +"That wretched old humbug! That means more beef-tea, not approaching +dissolution. Old Squinny will never dissolve in the ordinary way." + +"Well, I must go." Dot reached the door and began to swing it to and +fro, gathering impetus for departure. "By the way, was Bertie there?" +she asked. + +"Bertie who?" + +"Bertie Errol, of course. Who else?" + +"There are plenty of Berties in the world," remarked Ralph, helping +himself again to bread and honey. "No, Bertram Errol was not present. But +Napoleon Errol was. It was he who so kindly shunted Mrs. Damer on to me. +_Nota bene_! Give Napoleon Errol a wide berth in future. He has the craft +of a conjurer and the subtlety of a serpent. I believe he is a Red +Indian, myself." + +"Oh, Ralph, he isn't! He is as white as you are." + +"He isn't white at all," Ralph declared, "outside or in. Outside he is +the colour of a mangold-wurzel, and inside he is as black as ink. You +will never get that cake made if you don't go." + +"Oh, bother!" Dot swung open the door for the last time, turned to +depart, and then exclaimed in a very different tone, "Why, Bertie, so +here you are! We were just talking of you." + +A straight, well-made youth, with a brown face that laughed +good-temperedly, was advancing through the hall. + +"Hullo!" he said, halting at the doorway. "Awfully nice of you! What were +you saying, I wonder? Hullo, Ralph! Only just down, you lazy beggar? +Ought to be ashamed of yourself." + +He stood, slapping his riding-boots with a switch, looking at Dot with +the direct eyes of good-fellowship. His eyes were clear and honest as +a child's. + +"Dad's away," said Dot. "He was sent for early this morning." + +"Is he though? That means a holiday. What shall we do?" + +"I don't know what you will do," said Dot. "I am going to bake cakes." + +"I'll come and bake cakes too," said Bertie promptly. "I'm rather a swell +at that. I can make fudge too, real American fudge, the most aristocratic +thing on the market. It's a secret, of course, but I'll let you into it, +if you'll promise not to tell." + +"How do you know I can keep a secret?" laughed Dot, leading the way to +the kitchen. + +"You would keep a promise," he said with conviction. + +"If I made one," she threw back. + +"I would trust you without," he declared. + +"Very rash of you! I wonder if you are as trustworthy as that." + +"My word is my bond--always," said Bertie. + +She turned and looked at him critically. "Yes, I think it is," she +admitted. "You are quite the honestest boy I ever met. They ought to have +called you George Washington." + +"You may if you like," said Bertie. + +She laughed--her own inexpressibly gay laugh. "All right, George! It +suits you perfectly. I always did think Bertie was a silly name. Why +didn't you go to the Hunt Ball last night?" + +Bertie's merry face sobered. "My brother wasn't so well yesterday. I was +reading to him half the night. He couldn't sleep, and Tawny Hudson is no +good for that sort of thing." + +The merriment went out of Dot's face too. It grew softer, older, more +womanly. "You are very good to your brother," she said. + +He frowned abruptly. "Good to him! Great Scot! Why, he's miles too good +for any of us. Don't ever class him with Nap or me! We're just ordinary +sinners. But he--he's a king." + +A queer little gleam that was not all mirth made Dot's eyes grow +brighter. "I like you for saying that," she said. + +"Why, of course I say it!" he protested. "It's true! He's the finest chap +in the world, all true gold and not a grain of dross. That's how it is we +all knock under to him. Even Nap does that, though he doesn't care a +tinker's curse for anyone else on this muddy little planet." + +"You are awfully fond of him, aren't you?" said Dot sympathetically. + +"Fond of Lucas! I'd die for him!" the boy declared with feeling. "He's +father and brother and friend to me. There isn't anything I wouldn't do +for him. Did you ever hear how he came to be a cripple?" + +"Never," said Dot. + +"He was knocked down by an electric car," Bertie said, rushing through +the story with headlong ardour, "trying to save his best girl's dog from +being run over. He did save it, but he was frightfully hurt--paralysed +for months. It's years ago now. I was only a little shaver at the time. +But I shall never forget it. He always was good to me, and I thought he +was done for." + +"And the girl?" asked Dot rather breathlessly. + +"Married an English nobleman," he rejoined, with a brevity that spoke +volumes. "I say, what about those cakes? Hadn't we better begin?" + +Dot turned her attention to the fire. "I should like to meet your +brother," she remarked. "I've never spoken to a real flesh-and-blood hero +in my life." + +"Nothing easier," said Bertie promptly. "Come over and have tea. Come +this afternoon, you and Ralph." + +But Dot hesitated in evident doubt. "I don't know what Dad would +say," she said. + +"Oh, rats! He wouldn't mind. And my mother would be delighted. Come early +and I'll show you the hunters. Nap has just bought a beauty. She's a +blood mare, black as ink." + +"Like Nap," said Dot absently; then in haste, "No, I didn't mean that. I +wasn't thinking." + +Bertie was looking at her shrewdly. "What do you know about Nap?" he +said. + +She coloured deeply. "Nothing, nothing whatever. I only know him +by sight." + +"And you don't like him?" + +"I--I think he looks rather wicked," she stammered. + +Bertie grunted. "Do you think I look wicked too?" + +"Of course I don't. No one could." + +He laughed. "That's all right. You can think what you like of Nap. +Everybody does. But even he is not all bad, you know." + +"I'm sure he isn't. But--but--" Desperately Dot turned from the fire and +faced him. "I've got to say it, Bertie," she said rather piteously. +"Please don't be offended. You know I--I'm young. I don't know many +people. And--and--though I would like to know your eldest brother +immensely, I think I won't come to Baronmead if Nap is there. My father +doesn't want me to meet him--unless I am obliged." + +She uttered the last words in evident distress. Bertie's face had grown +quite serious, even stern. He was looking at her with a directness which +for the first time in their acquaintance she found disconcerting. + +He did not speak for several seconds. At length, "How old are you?" he +said abruptly. + +"Eighteen," she murmured. + +He continued to look at her speculatively. "Well," he said at length, +speaking with something of a twang, "I guess your father knows what he's +about, but it beats me to understand why he has me here to study. I guess +I'd better shunt." + +"Oh, please don't!" she said quickly. "It isn't you at all. It's +only Nap." + +"Damn Nap!" said Bertie, with some fervour. "Oh, does that shock you? I +forgot you were a parson's daughter. Well, it may be your father is +right after all. Anyway, I shan't quarrel with him so long as he doesn't +taboo me too." + +"He won't do that," said Dot, with confidence. "He likes you." + +Bertie's good-looking face began to smile again. "Well, I'm not a +blackguard anyway," he said. "And I never shall be if you keep on being +kind to me. That's understood, is it? Then shake!" + +They shook, and Dot realised with relief that the difficult subject was +dismissed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIRST ENCOUNTER + + +It was a week after the Hunt Ball that Anne Carfax, sitting alone at tea +in her drawing-room before a blazing fire, was surprised by the sudden +opening of the door, and the announcement of old Dimsdale the butler, +"Mr. Nap Errol to see your ladyship!" + +She rose to meet him, her surprise in her face, and he, entering with +that light, half-stealthy tread of his, responded to it before his hand +touched hers. + +"I know my presence is unexpected, and my welcome precarious, but as none +of my friends have been able to give me any news of you, I determined to +chance my reception and come myself to inquire for your welfare." + +"You are very good," said Anne, but she spoke with a certain stateliness +notwithstanding. There was no pleasure in her eyes. + +Nap, however, was sublimely self-assured. "I am beginning to think I must +be," he said, "since you say so. For I know you to be strictly truthful." + +Anne made no response. She did not even smile. + +"I am in luck to find you alone," proceeded Nap, surveying her with bold +dark eyes that were nothing daunted by her lack of cordiality. + +"My husband will be in soon," she answered quietly. + +"I shall be delighted to make his acquaintance," said Nap imperturbably. +"Has he been hunting?" + +"Yes." Anne's tone was distant. She seemed to be unaware of the fact that +her visitor was still on his feet. + +But Nap knew no embarrassment. He stood on the hearth with his back to +the fire. "You ought to hunt," he said. "Why don't you?" + +"I do--occasionally," Anne said. + +"What's the good of that? You ought to regularly. There's nothing like +it. Say, Lady Carfax, why don't you?" He smiled upon her disarmingly. +"Are you wondering if I take one lump or two? I take neither, and no +milk, please." + +Against her will she faintly smiled. + +"I thought that was it," said Nap. "Why didn't you ask me? Are these +scones in the fender? May I offer you one?" + +He dropped upon his knees to pick up the dish, and in that attitude +humbly proffered it to her. + +She found it impossible to remain ungracious. She could only seat herself +at the tea-table and abandon the attempt. + +"Sit down and help yourself," she said. + +He pulled a large hassock to him and sat facing her. "Now we can be +sociable," he said. "Really, you know, you ought to hunt more often. I +have never seen you in the field once. What on earth do you do with +yourself?" + +"Many things," said Anne. + +"What things?" he persisted. + +"I help my husband to the best of my ability with the estate and try to +keep an eye on the poorest tenants. And then I practise the piano a good +deal. I haven't time for much besides." + +"I say, do you play?" said Nap, keenly interested. "I do myself, a +little, not the piano--the violin. Lucas likes it, or I suppose I should +have given it up long ago. But I generally have to manage without an +accompaniment. There is no one can accompany at our place. It's a bit +thin, you know, playing by yourself." + +Anne's face reflected his interest. "Tell me more about it," she said. +"What sort of music do you care for?" + +"Oh, anything, from Christmas carols to sonatas. I never play to please +myself, and Lucas has very varied tastes." + +"He is your elder brother?" questioned Anne. + +"Yes, and one of the best." Nap spoke with unwonted feeling. "He is +hopelessly crippled, poor chap, and suffers infernally. I often wonder +why he puts up with it. I should have shot myself long ago, had I been +in his place." + +"Perhaps he is a good man," Anne said. + +He shot her a keen glance. "What do you mean by a good man?" + +"I mean a man who does his duty without shirking." + +"Is that your ideal?" he said, "There are plenty of men that do that, and +yet their lives are anything but blameless." + +"Quite possibly," she agreed. "But if a man does his duty, he has not +lived in vain. It can be no man's duty to destroy himself." + +"And how would you define 'duty'?" said Nap. + +She let her eyes meet his for a moment. "I can only define it for +myself," she said. + +"Will you do so for my benefit?" he asked. + +A faint colour rose to her face. She looked past him into the fire. There +was a deep sadness about her lips as she made reply. + +"I have not been given much to do. I have to content myself with 'the +work that's nearest.'" + +Nap was watching her closely. "And if I did the same," he questioned in a +drawl that was unmistakably supercilious, "should I be a good man?" + +"I don't know what your capabilities are," she said. + +"I have vast capabilities for evil," he told her, with a cynical twist of +his thin-lipped mouth. + +She met his look again. "I am sorry," she said. + +"Are you really? But why? Doesn't the devil attract you? Honestly +now!" He leaned forward, staring straight at her, challenging her. "I +tell you frankly," he said, "I am not what you would call a good man. +But--the truth, mind!--would you like me any better if I were?" + +She smiled a little. There was undoubted fascination in the upturned face +with its fiery eyes and savage jaw. Perhaps the lips were cruel, but they +were not coarse. They were keenly sensitive. + +She did not answer him immediately, and during the pause his eyes never +flinched from hers. They were alive, glowing with insistence. + +"Yes," she said at length. "Quite honestly, I do prefer good men." + +"That wasn't exactly what I asked," said Nap, thrusting out his chin. + +"I think you are capable of drawing your own conclusions," she +answered gently. + +His look fell away from her. He began to munch scone with a +contemplative air. + +Anne gave him some tea, and he set it on the hearthrug between his +feet. The silence became lengthy. She was conscious of something in +the atmosphere that made her vaguely uneasy. Was it a cat he resembled, +crouching there in front of her? No, there was nothing domestic about +him though she had a feeling that he could purr when he was pleased. +Yes, there was undoubtedly something feline about him, a supple grace, +a noiselessness, a guile, that made her aware of the necessity for +caution in her dealings with him. This was a man of many +subtleties--she knew it instinctively--a man of tigerish temperament, +harmless as a kitten in sunshine, merciless as a fiend in storm. Yes, +he was certainly like a tiger, forcible even in repose. She had never +before encountered so dominant a personality. It affected her +strangely, half-attracting, half-repelling, arousing in her a sense of +antagonism that yet was not aversion. + +"I wish you would say all that out loud," said Nap. "You have such +interesting thoughts, it is really selfish of you not to express them." + +"Surely not," she said, "if you know what they are." + +He gave her an odd look as he lifted his tea-cup. + +"The Queen's jester is a privileged person," he said. "When the door of +her pleasaunce is closed to him he climbs up and looks over the wall." + +"Not always a discreet proceeding, I fear," Anne remarked. + +"Discretion, Lady Carfax, is but another term for decrepitude. I have +detected no symptoms of the disease at present." He drained his tea with +an arrogant gesture and handed the cup for more. "Which is the exact +reason why I have no intention of remaining on the top of the wall," he +said. "I will have a stronger dose this time, please." + +An unsteady hand began to fumble at the door, and Anne glanced up with a +start. The blood rose to her face. "I think it is my husband," she said, +in a low voice. + +Nap did not turn his head or answer. He sat motionless, still staring at +her, till the door began to open. Then, with a sudden, lithe movement, he +rose and kicked the hassock to one side. + +A big man in riding-dress tramped heavily into the room, and stopped in +the centre, peering before him under scowling brows. Not the kindest of +critics could have called Sir Giles Carfax handsome, though every feature +in his face was well formed. The blotchy complexion of the man and his +eyes of glaring malice marred him all too completely. He looked about +fifty, to judge by his iron-grey hair and moustache, but he might have +been less. He had immensely powerful shoulders that stooped a little. + +He continued to stand in the middle of the room and glare at the visitor +till Anne quietly bridged the gulf. + +"This is Mr. Nap Errol, Giles. Mr. Errol--my husband." + +She made the introduction without a tremor, but she kept her eyes +downcast as if she did not wish to see them meet. Perhaps she divined +that a gleam of supercilious humour flickered in Nap's eyes as he made +easy response. + +"I have been waiting for the pleasure of meeting you," he drawled. +"I dropped in on the chance, and Lady Carfax assured me you +wouldn't be long." + +Sir Giles scowled more heavily than before. He shot a malignant glance +at his wife. + +"Who in thunder made her so clever?" he growled. "And what did you want +to see me for? Have I ever met you before?" + +His voice was thick, the words somewhat difficult to distinguish. + +Nap's smile was unmistakably sardonic. "Many times," he said. "You nearly +rode over me on the last occasion. Doubtless the episode has escaped your +memory, but it made a more lasting impression upon mine." + +Sir Giles glared offensively, as if he deemed himself insulted. "I +remember," he said. "Your animal came down with you. You pushed in front +of me. But it was your own fault. You Americans never observe the rules +of sport. I'm always glad to see you come a cropper." + +"I am sure of it," said Nap politely. "It must gratify you immensely." + +Sir Giles uttered a brief, snarling laugh, and advanced abruptly to the +hearth. He towered above the slim American, but the latter did not appear +to shirk comparison with him. With his hands in his pockets he +nonchalantly opposed his insolence to the other man's half-tipsy tyranny. + +And Anne Carfax sat silent behind the tea-table and endured the encounter +with a mask-like patience that betrayed no faintest hint of what she +carried in her heart. + +"Well, what do you want to see me for?" Sir Giles demanded, with a +ferocious kick at the coals. + +Nap was quite ready with his answer. "I am really here on my brother's +behalf. There is a scheme afoot, as no doubt you know, for the building +of a Town Hall. My brother considers that the lord of the Manor"--he +bowed with thinly-veiled irony--"should have first say in the matter. But +I am at liberty to assure you that should you be in favour of the scheme +he is ready to offer you his hearty support." + +Sir Giles heard him out with lowering brows. It did not improve his +temper to see Anne's eyes flash sudden interrogation at Nap's serenely +smiling countenance, though he did not suspect the meaning of her glance. + +"I am not in favour of the scheme," he said shortly, as Nap ended. + +Nap slightly raised his brows. "No? I understood otherwise." + +The blood mounted to Sir Giles's forehead. "Either you were misinformed +or your intelligence is at fault," he said, with that in his voice that +was so nearly an open insult that, for a second, even Nap looked +dangerous. + +Then quite quietly, without raising her eyes, Anne intervened. "I think +you ought to explain to Mr. Errol, Giles, that you have only recently +changed your mind." + +Sir Giles rounded on her malignantly. "What the devil has that to do with +it, or with you, for that matter? Do you think I don't know my own mind? +Do you think--" + +"I know exactly what Lady Carfax thinks," cut in Nap, moving deliberately +so that he stood directly between Sir Giles and the tea-table. His back +was turned to Anne, and he kept it so. "And in the main, I agree with +her, though my sentiments are a little stronger than hers. I'll tell you +exactly what they are some day. I think you would be interested, or at +least not bored. But with regard to this Town Hall suggestion, what's +wrong with it, anyway? Couldn't you come over and talk it out with my +brother? He isn't well enough just now to come to you." + +The coolness of this speech took effect. Sir Giles glared for a few +moments till the speaker's steady regard became too much for him. Then, +with a lurching movement, he turned away. + +"No, I won't visit your brother! Why the deuce should I? Do you think I +belong to the rag, tag, and bobtail, that'll mix with the very scum of +society so long as there's money about? Do you think I'd lower myself to +associate with fellows like you?" + +"I guess you'd find it difficult," drawled Nap. + +He still stood with his back to the tea-table. He seemed to have +forgotten the woman who sat so rigid behind him. His fingers drummed a +careless tattoo upon the table-edge. He was unquestionably master of the +situation, and that without much apparent effort. + +And Sir Giles knew it, knew himself to be worsted, and that in his +wife's presence. He glanced at her through eyes narrowed to evil slits. +Her very impassivity goaded him. It seemed in some fashion to express +contempt. With violence he strode to the bell and pealed it vigorously. + +On the instant Nap turned. "So long, Lady Carfax!" + +She looked up at him. Her lips said nothing, but for that instant her +eyes entreated, and his eyes made swift response. + +He was smiling with baffling good humour as he turned round to Sir Giles. + +"Good-bye, sir! Delighted to have met you. I'll give your message to my +brother. It'll amuse him." + +He departed without a backward glance as the servant opened the door, +elaborately deaf to Sir Giles's half-strangled reply that he might go to +the devil and take his brother with him. + +He left dead silence in the room behind him, but the moment that the +clang of the front door told of his final exit the storm burst. + +Sir Giles, livid, stammering with rage, strode up and down and cursed the +departed visitor in lurid language, cursed the errand that had brought +him, and rated his wife for admitting him. + +"I will not know these impertinent, opulent Americans!" was the burden of +his maledictions. "As for that damned, insolent bounder, I will never +have him in the house again. Understand that! I know him. I've heard +Shirley talk of him. The man's a blackguard. And if I ever catch him +alone in your company after this, I'll thrash him--do you hear?--I'll +thrash him! So now you know what to expect!" + +It was at this point that Anne rose, passed quietly, with the bearing of +a queen, down the long room, and without a single word or glance went out +and closed the door very softly behind her. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE MEET + + +On one occasion, and one only, in the whole year were the gates of +the Manor thrown open to all comers, opulent Americans and +impecunious Britons alike. And this was when, in accordance with a +custom that had been observed from time immemorial, the foxhounds met +upon the Manor lawn. + +It was then that Sir Giles, who cursed this obligatory hospitality for +weeks beforehand, emerged with a smile as fixed as his scowl, shook hands +with the select few whom he deigned to number among his acquaintances and +pointedly ignored the many who did not enjoy this privilege. + +With old Dimsdale the butler rather than with his master rested the +honours of the house, and old Dimsdale did his part nobly; so nobly that +Major Shirley was heard to remark more than once that it was a pity he +and Sir Giles couldn't change places. It was the great day of Dimsdale's +year, and his was the proud task to see that none of the guests were +neglected. + +Anne usually rode to hounds on this occasion. Tall and stately, clad in +the conventional black riding-habit that only added grace to her severity +of outline, she moved among her husband's guests. And even those of them +who, like Major Shirley, resented that queenliness which was an inborn +part of her very nature, were fain to admit that she filled her position +as lady of the Manor with striking success. Though she had withdrawn +herself more and more of late from the society of the neighbourhood, she +acted the part of hostess with unfailing graciousness. On foot she moved +among the throng, greeting everyone she knew. + +Little Dot Waring, standing in the background with her brother on a +certain misty morning in January marked her progress with looks of loving +admiration. Lady Carfax's mount, a powerful grey with nervous ears and +gleaming eyes, was being held in unwilling subjection close to them. + +"Be ready to mount her when she comes this way, Ralph," Dot whispered, as +the tall figure drew nearer. + +But the honour of mounting Lady Carfax was not for Ralph. A man on +a black mare--a slight man with high cheek-bones and an insolent +bearing--was threading his way towards them through the crowd. The mare, +like the grey, was restive, and her rider swore at her whimsies as he +came. + +Meeting Dot's frank regard, he checked himself and raised his hat with a +courtesy half-instinctive. + +Dot stared, coloured, and very slightly bowed. + +Ralph sniggered. "Let yourself in for it that time, my child! Here comes +Bertie to effect a formal introduction." + +"Bertie won't introduce him," she said quickly. + +Bertie, looking very handsome and stalwart, was already close to them. He +leaned down from the saddle to shake hands. + +"Are you following on foot? I wish I was. Never thought of it till +this moment." + +"I would much rather follow on horseback," Dot declared, looking as if +she did not believe him. + +He laughed. "I'll take you in front of me if you'll come." + +"No. I shouldn't like that," said Dot very decidedly. + +"How can you possibly know till you try?" + +Dot looked up at him with the sunshine in her clear eyes. "How do you +know that you would prefer to follow the hounds on foot? I don't suppose +you ever have." + +"How do I know?" laughed Bertie. "Because I should be in your company, of +course. Isn't that reason enough?" + +"Idiot!" said Dot tersely. + +"Minx!" said Bertie. + +She flushed, looked angry for a moment, and then in spite of herself +dimpled into a smile. "Bertie, you're a beast! Say that again if you +dare!" + +"I daren't," said Bertie. + +"No, I thought not. Now apologise!" + +"Oh, not now! Not in public!" he pleaded. "I'll drop in this evening and +you can shrive me before I go to bed." + +"I shan't be at home," said Dot, with her head in the air. + +"Oh, yes, you will. Anyway, I'm bound to catch you if I wait long +enough." Bertie spoke with cheery assurance. "Hullo! What do you want?" + +His expression altered as his glance fell upon his brother, who had just +come to his side. He looked inclined to scowl. + +But Nap was not apparently desiring an introduction to the rector's +daughter. "Hold the mare a minute, will you?" he said. + +Bertie complied and he swung himself to the ground. + +Lady Carfax was coming towards them and he went to meet her. + +Her grey eyes smiled a friendly welcome. "I was just wondering if you +were here." + +He bowed low. "I am honoured indeed to be in your thoughts for a +single instant." + +"I hope I do not forget my friends so easily," she said. "Oh, here are +some more of them! Excuse me for a moment." + +She went straight to Dot, shook hands with her and her brother, and stood +chatting for a few seconds. + +Nap remained close behind her, and after a little she turned to +Include him in the group. "Have you ever met this Mr. Errol. Dot? Mr. +Errol--Miss Waring!" + +Dot bowed again with a scarlet countenance, but the next instant a +friendly inspiration delivered her from the moment's awkwardness. + +"And you don't know Bertie Errol, do you, Lady Carfax?" she said eagerly. +"Let me introduce him. He studies with Dad, you know." + +"When he isn't hunting, or paper-chasing, or--baking cakes," said Bertie. +"He's such a nice boy, Lady Carfax. He can do almost anything. I'm sure +you'll like him!" + +Dot laughed and protested. "He isn't a bit nice, and he isn't clever +either, though he thinks he is. I don't believe he learns anything with +Dad. They study natural history most of the time." + +"Harmless, anyway!" commented Nap, with a sneer. + +"Yes, quite harmless," assented Bertie, looking straight at him. + +"And very interesting, no doubt," said Lady Carfax, turning towards +her mount. + +Ralph moved to assist her, but Nap pushed before him. "My job, I think," +he drawled, with that in his face which made the English youth draw +sullenly back. + +"Cad!" whispered Dot fiercely. + +And Bertie from his perch above her laughed through clenched teeth. + +In a few minutes more the hunt was off. The whole crowd streamed briskly +away, hounds leading, horses, motors, carriages, and the usual swarm of +pedestrians, following in promiscuous array. + +The sun shone through a mist. The weather was perfect for hunting, but +looked as if it might end in rain. + +Sir Giles rode with the master. He seemed in better spirits than usual. +His customary scowl had lifted. + +His wife rode nearer the end of the procession with Nap Errol next to +her. His brother was immediately behind them, a very decided frown on his +boyish face, a frown of which in some occult fashion Nap must have been +aware, for as they reached a stretch of turf and the crowd widened out, +he turned in the saddle. + +"Get on ahead, Bertie! I can't stand you riding at my heels." + +Bertie looked at him as if he had a retort ready, but he did not utter +it. With tightened lips he rode past and shot ahead. + +Nap smiled a little. "That young puppy is the best of the Errol bunch," +he said. "But he hasn't been licked enough. It's not my fault. It's my +brother's." + +"He looks a nice boy," Anne said. + +Nap's smile became supercilious. "He is a nice boy, Lady Carfax. But nice +boys don't always make nice men, you know. They turn into prigs +sometimes." + +Anne diverted the subject with an instinctive feeling that it was one +upon which they might not agree. + +"There is a considerable difference between you?" she asked. + +"Eight years," said Nap. "I am thirty, Lucas five years older. Most +people take me for the eldest of the lot." + +"I wonder why?" said Anne. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "It is not really surprising, is it? Lucas has +been on the shelf for the past ten years and I"--he glanced at her +shrewdly--"have not!" + +"Oh!" said Anne, and asked no more. + +For the first time the definite question arose in her mind as to whether +in admitting this man to her friendship she had made a mistake. He had a +disquieting effect upon her, she was forced to acknowledge. + +Yet as they drifted apart in the throng she knew with unalterable +conviction that the matter did not rest with her. From the outset the +choice had not been hers. + +He had entered the gates of her lonely citadel on the night of the Hunt +Ball, and though she was by no means sure that she liked him there, she +fully realised that it was too late now to try to bar him out. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FALL + + +They found a fox after some delay in a copse on the side of a hill, and +the run that followed scattered even Anne's sedateness to the winds. +Something of youth, something of girlishness, yet dwelt within her and +bounded to the surface in response to the wild excitement of the chase. + +The grey went like the wind. He and the black mare that Nap Errol rode +led the field, a distinction that Anne had never sought before, and which +she did not greatly appreciate on this occasion. For when they killed in +a chalky hollow, after half-an-hour's furious galloping across country +with scarcely a check, she dragged her animal round with a white, set +face and forced him from the scene. + +Nap followed her after a little and found her fumbling at a gate +into a wood. + +"I've secured the brush for you," he began. Then, seeing her face, "What +is it? You look sick." + +"I feel sick," Anne said shakily. + +He opened the gate for her, and followed her through. They found +themselves alone, separated from the rest of the hunt by a thick +belt of trees. + +"Do you mean to say you have never seen a kill before?" he said. + +"Never at close quarters," murmured Anne, with a shudder. + +He rode for a little in silence. At length, "I'm sorry you didn't like +being in at the death," he said. "I thought you would be pleased." + +"Pleased!" she said, and shuddered again. + +"Personally," said Nap, "I enjoy a kill." + +Anne's face expressed horror. + +"Yes," he said recklessly, "I am like that. I hunt to kill. It is my +nature." A red gleam shone suddenly in his fiery eyes. He looked at her +aggressively. "What do you hunt for anyway?" he demanded. + +"I don't think I shall hunt any more," she said. + +"Oh, nonsense, Lady Carfax! That's being ultrasqueamish," he protested. +"You mustn't, you know. It's bad for you." + +"I can't help it," she said. "I never realised before how cruel it is." + +"Of course it's cruel," said Nap. "But then so is everything, so is life. +Yet you've got to live. We were created to prey on each other." + +"No, no!" she said quickly, for his words hurt her inexplicably. "I take +the higher view." + +"I beg your pardon," said Nap, in the tone of one refusing a discussion. + +She turned to him impulsively. "Surely you do too!" she said, and there +was even a note of pleading in her voice. + +Nap's brows met suddenly. He turned his eyes away. "I am nothing but an +animal," he told her rather brutally. "There is nothing spiritual about +me. I live for what I can get. When I get the chance I gorge. If I have a +soul at all, it is so rudimentary as to be unworthy of mention." + +In the silence that followed he looked at her again with grim +comprehension. "P'r'aps you don't care for animals," he suggested +cynically. "To change the subject, do you know we are leaving the +hunt behind?" + +She reined in somewhat reluctantly. "I suppose we had better go back." + +"If your majesty decrees," said Nap. + +He pulled the mare round and stood motionless, waiting for her to pass. +He sat arrogantly at his ease. She could not fail to note that his +horsemanship was magnificent. The mare stood royally as though she bore +a king. The man's very insignificance of bulk seemed to make him the +more superb. + +"Will you deign to lead the way?" he said. + +And Anne passed him with a vague sense of uneasiness that almost +amounted to foreboding. For it seemed to her as if for those few moments +he had imposed his will upon hers, had without effort overthrown all +barriers of conventional reserve, and had made her acknowledge in him +the mastery of man. + +Rejoining the hunt, she made her first deliberate attempt to avoid him, +an attempt that was so far successful that for the next hour she saw +nothing of him beyond casual glimpses. She did not join her husband, for +he resented her proximity in the hunting-field. + +They drew blank in a wood above the first kill, but finally found after +considerable delay along a stubbly stretch of ground bordering Baronmead, +a large estate that the eldest Errol had just bought. The fox headed +straight for the Baronmead woods and after him streamed the hunt +pell-mell along a stony valley. + +It was not Anne's intention to be in at a second death that day, and she +deliberately checked the grey's enthusiasm when he would have borne her +headlong through the scampering crowd. To his indignation, instead of +pursuing the chase in the valley, she headed him up the hill. He +protested with vehemence, threatening to rebel outright, but Anne was +determined, and eventually she had her way. Up the hill they went. + +It was a scramble to reach the top, for the ground was steep and sloppy, +but on the summit of the ridge progress was easier. She gave the grey the +rein and he carried her forward at a canter. From here she saw the last +of the horsemen below her sweep round the curve towards Baronmead, and +the hubbub growing fainter in the distance told her that the hounds were +already plunging through the woods. Ahead of her the ridge culminated in +a bare knoll whence it was evident that she could overlook a considerable +stretch of country. She urged her animal towards it. + +The mist was thickening in the valley, and it had begun to drizzle. The +watch on her wrist said two o'clock, and she determined to turn her face +homewards as soon as she had taken this final glimpse. + +The grey, snorting and sweating, stumbled up the slippery ascent. He was +plainly disgusted with his rider's tactics. They arrived upon the summit, +and Anne brought him to a standstill. But though she still heard vague +shoutings below her the mist had increased so much in the few minutes +they had taken over the ascent that she could discern nothing. Her horse +was winded after the climb, however, and she remained motionless to give +him time to recover. The hubbub was dying away, and she surmised that the +fox had led his pursuers out on the farther side of the woods. She +shivered as the chill damp crept about her. A feeling of loneliness that +was almost physical possessed her. She half wished that she had not +forsaken the hunt after all. + +Stay! Was she quite alone? Out of the clinging, ever-thickening curtain +there came sounds--the sounds of hoofs that struggled upwards, of an +animal's laboured breathing, of a man's voice that encouraged and swore +alternately. + +Her heart gave a sudden sharp throb. She knew that voice. Though she had +only met the owner thereof three times she had come to know it rather +well. Why had he elected to come that way, she asked herself? He almost +seemed to be dogging her steps that day. + +Impulse urged her to strike in another direction before he reached +her. She did not feel inclined for another _tête-à -tête_ with Nap +Errol just then. + +She tapped the grey smartly with her switch, more smartly than she +intended, for he started and plunged. At the same instant there broke out +immediately below them a hubbub of yelling and baying that was like the +shrieking of a hundred demons. It rose up through the fog as from the +mouth of an invisible pit, and drove the grey horse clean out of his +senses. He reared bolt upright in furious resistance to his rider's will, +pawed the air wildly, and being brought down again by a sharp cut over +the ears, flung out his heels in sheer malice and bolted down the hill, +straight for that pandemonium of men and hounds. If the pleasures of the +hunt failed to attract his mistress, it was otherwise with him, and he +meant to have his fling in spite of her. + +For the first few seconds of that mad flight Anne scarcely attempted to +check his progress. She was taken by surprise and was forced to give all +her attention to keeping in the saddle. + +The pace was terrific. The scampering hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the +ground at all. Like shadows they fled through the rising mist. It struck +chill upon her face as they swooped downwards. She seemed to be plunging +into an icy, bottomless abyss. + +And then like a dagger, stabbing through every nerve, came fear, a +horror unspeakable of the depth she could not see, into which she was +being so furiously hurled. She was clinging to the saddle, but she +made a desperate effort to drag the animal round. It was quite +fruitless. No woman's strength could have availed to check that +headlong gallop. He swerved a little, a very little, in answer, that +was all, and galloped madly on. + +And then--all in a moment it came, a moment of culminating horror more +awful than anything she had ever before experienced--the ground fell +suddenly away from the racing feet. A confusion of many lights danced +before her eyes--a buzzing uproar filled her brain--she shot forward +into space.... + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE RIDE HOME + + +Sir Giles was in a decidedly evil temper as he rode home from the hunt in +the soaking rain that afternoon. The second fox had led them miles out of +the way, and they had not been rewarded by a kill. The brute had eluded +them, profiting by the downpour that had washed away the scent. So Sir +Giles, having solaced himself several times with neat brandy from the +large silver flask without which he never rode abroad, was in anything +but a contented mood with the world in general and his own luck in +particular. Dusk had long descended when at length he turned in at his +own gates. He had given up urging his jaded animal, being too jaded +himself for the effort. But, hearing a clatter of hoofs on the drive +before him, he did rouse himself to holler into the darkness, supposing +that his wife was ahead of him. If it were she, she was later in +returning than was her wont, but no answer came back to him, and he did +not repeat his call. After all, why should he hail her? He did not want +her company, Heaven knew. That stately demeanour of hers which once had +attracted him generally inspired in him a savage sense of resentment +nowadays. There were times when he even suspected her of despising +him--him, the lord of the Manor, who had given her all she possessed in +the world! + +He swore a furious oath under his breath as he rode. The darkness ahead +of him was all pricked by tiny red sparks, that glanced and flashed like +fireflies whichever way he looked. He rubbed his eyes and they departed, +only to swarm again a little farther on. The rain had soaked him to the +skin. He shivered and swore again as he fumbled for his flask. + +The fiery gleams faded wholly away as the raw spirit warmed his blood and +revived his brain. He drew a breath of relief. Again he heard the sound +of a horse's feet some distance in front. They seemed to fall unevenly, +as though the animal were lame. Could it be the grey, he asked himself? +If so, why had Anne not answered his call? She must have heard him. He +ground his teeth. It was like her habitual impudence to ignore him thus. +He gathered himself together and sent a furious bellow into the darkness. + +But there came back no reply. The hoofs ahead seemed to quicken into a +shambling trot, that was all. And after a little he heard them no more. + +She had reached the house then, and gone within into light and comfort, +and again feverishly he execrated her for not waiting for him, the cold +and the rain and the dark notwithstanding. Again fitfully he began to +see those leaping points of light; but it was only here and there. +Whenever he focussed his attention upon them they eluded him. For these +also he held his wife in some fashion responsible. What did she mean by +leaving him thus? How dared she enter the house that was his while he +was still groping without? He believed that she would shut his own door +against him if she dared. He was sure she hated him, as he hated her--as +he hated her! + +And then--suddenly a strange thing happened. Suddenly, clear-cut as a +cameo before his fevered vision, there arose against the dripping +darkness his wife's face. Pale and pure as the face of a saint, it shone +before him like a star. There was no reproach in the level eyes; there +was no contempt. But they looked through him, they looked beyond him, and +saw him not. + +A violent tremor went through him, a nameless, unspeakable dread. The +curses died upon his lips. He stared and stared again. + +And while he stared, the vision faded before his eyes into nothingness. +He was alone once more in the darkness and the drenching rain; alone with +a little gibing voice that seemed to come from within and yet was surely +the voice of a devil jeering a devil's tattoo in time to his horse's +hoof-beats, telling him he was mad, mad, mad! + +Three minutes later he rode heavily into his own stable-yard. + +A group of servants scattered dumbly before him as he appeared. The glare +of lights dazzled him, but he fancied they looked at him strangely. He +flung an oath at the groom who stepped forward to take his horse. + +"What are you staring at? What's the matter?" + +The man murmured something unintelligible. + +Sir Giles dismounted and scowled around. His limbs were stiff and not +over steady. + +"What's the matter with you all?" he growled. "You look like a crowd of +death's heads. Hullo! What's this?" + +He had caught sight of something he had not seen before, something that +sent him striding furiously forward. For there in the centre of the +yard, standing huddled on three legs, was the grey horse his wife had +ridden. Limp and draggled, plastered with mud and foam, with a great +streaming gash on the shoulder, and head hanging down in utter +exhaustion, stood the grey. + +"What's this?" demanded Sir Giles again. "Where's her ladyship?" + +A shudder seemed to run through the assembled men. There was a moment's +silence. Then old Dimsdale, the butler, who was standing in the doorway +that led to the servants' quarters, stumped forward and made reply. + +"The animal's come home alone, Sir Giles." + +"What?" thundered his master. + +The old man faced him with respectful firmness. No one had ever seen +Dimsdale agitated. + +"As I said, Sir Giles," he answered, with a certain deferential +obstinacy. "The animal's come back alone." + +"Only just come in, sir," chimed in a groom. "We was just beginning to +wonder when he came limping in in this state. Looks as if her ladyship +had met with a accident." + +Sir Giles rounded upon him with a violence that brought his surmisings to +an abrupt end. Then, having worked off the first heat of his fury, he +turned again to Dimsdale. + +"What the devil is to be done? I never saw her after the first kill." + +"And where might that be, Sir Giles?" questioned Dimsdale. + +"Up Baronmead way. It was hours ago." + +Dimsdale considered. "Shall we send and make inquiries at Baronmead, +Sir Giles?" + +"No, I'm damned if I do!" said Sir Giles. + +Dimsdale considered again. "Was her ladyship riding with anyone in +particular?" he asked next. + +"No, I don't think so. Stay! I believe I saw that Errol bounder talking +to her--the one who was here the other day. But I forget when. +Anyhow"--his voice rising again--"I won't have any traffic with them. +I've said I won't, and I won't!" + +Dimsdale grunted. "Seems to me the only thing to do, Sir Giles. You can't +leave her lady ship to die under a hedge maybe, and not do anything to +find her." + +He spoke very deliberately, looking straight into his master's bloodshot +eyes as he did so. + +"It wouldn't be hardly right, Sir Giles," he pointed out gravely. "It's +likely that young Mr. Errol will be able to give us a clue, and we can't +leave any stone unturned, being such a serious matter. I'll send on my +own responsibility if you like, Sir Giles. But send we must." + +The bystanders glanced uneasily at one another in the silence that +followed this bold speech. The old butler's temerity was unheard of. Not +one among them would have dared thus to withstand the master to his face. +They waited, nervously expectant, for the vials of wrath to descend. + +Old Dimsdale waited too, still firmly watching Sir Giles. If he felt any +anxiety on his own account, however, it was not apparent. Nor did he +display any relief when the unpleasant tension passed and Sir Giles with +a shrug turned away from him. + +"Oh, go your own way, and be damned to you! I don't care what you do. +Don't stand gaping there, you fools! Get to your work! Better send for +the vet. Can't afford to have a valuable animal spoilt. Dimsdale, take +some brandy and hot water up to my room at once, before you do anything +else. Do you hear?" + +And with that he tramped within, leaving an atmosphere of mingled relief +and indignation behind him. + +But if his words were callous, the soul of the man was far from easy as +he mounted to his room. He flung himself into the nearest chair when he +arrived there and sat with eyes fixed sullenly before him. He ought to go +in search of her, of course, but he was powerless. His brain was a +smouldering furnace in which anxiety and anger strove luridly for the +mastery. But through it all he sat there torpidly staring. His body felt +as though it were weighted with leaden fetters. + +He heard a step in the passage, but did not turn his head. Someone +knocked discreetly. He heard, but he took no notice. The door opened +softly, and old Dimsdale entered. + +"We have news, Sir Giles." + +Sir Giles neither looked at him nor spoke. He continued to glare heavily +into space. + +Dimsdale paused beside him. "A messenger has just come from Baronmead in +their motor, Sir Giles," he said, speaking very distinctly. "Her ladyship +has had a fall, and has been taken there. Mr. Errol begs that you will go +back in the motor, as her ladyship's condition is considered serious." + +He stopped. Sir Giles said nothing whatever. + +"The messenger is waiting, Sir Giles." + +Still no response of any sort. + +Dimsdale waited a moment, then very respectfully he bent and touched his +master's shoulder. + +"Sir Giles!" + +Sir Giles turned slowly at last, with immense effort it seemed. He +glowered at Dimsdale for a space. Then, "Bring some brandy and water," he +said, "hot!" + +"But the messenger, Sir Giles!" + +"What?" Sir Giles glared a moment longer, then as anger came uppermost, +the smouldering furnace leapt into sudden seething flame. "Tell him to go +to the devil!" he thundered. "And when you've done that, bring me some +brandy and water--hot!" + +As Dimsdale departed upon his double errand he dropped back into his +former position, staring dully before him, under scowling brows. + +When Dimsdale returned he was sunk in the chair asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE + + +"Hullo, Lucas! Can I come in?" + +Nap Errol stood outside his brother's door, an impatient frown on his +face, his hand already fidgeting at the handle. + +"Come in, old chap," drawled back a kindly voice. + +He entered with an abruptness that seemed to denote agitation. + +The room was large and brilliantly lighted. In an easy chair by the fire +the eldest Errol was reclining, while his valet, a huge man with the +features of an American Indian half-breed and fiery red hair, put the +finishing touches to his evening dress. + +Nap approached the fire with his usual noiseless tread despite the fact +that he was still in riding boots. + +"Be quick, Hudson!" he said. "We don't want you." + +Hudson rolled a nervous eye at him and became clumsily hasty. + +"Take your time," his master said quietly. "Nap, my friend, hadn't you +better dress?" + +Nap stopped before the fire and pushed it with his foot. "I am not going +to dine," he said. + +Lucas Errol said no more. He lay still in his chair with his head back +and eyes half-closed, a passive, pathetic figure with the shoulders of a +strong man and the weak, shrunken limbs of a cripple. His face was quite +smooth. It might have belonged to a boy of seventeen save for the eyes, +which were deeply sunken and possessed the shrewd, quizzical +intelligence of age. + +He lay quite motionless as though he were accustomed to remain for hours +in one position. Hudson the valet tended him with the reverence of a +slave. Nap fell to pacing soundlessly to and fro, awaiting the man's exit +with what patience he could muster. + +"You can go now, Tawny," the elder Errol drawled at last. "I will ring +when I want you. Now, Boney, what is it? I wish you would sit down." + +There was no impatience in the words, but his brows were slightly drawn +as he uttered them, + +Nap, turning swiftly, noted the fact. "You are not so well to-night?" + +"Sit down," his brother repeated gently. "How is Lady Carfax?" + +Nap sat down with some reluctance. He looked as if he would have +preferred to prowl. + +"She is still unconscious, and likely to remain so. The doctor thinks +very seriously of her." + +"Her husband has been informed?" + +"Her husband," said Nap from between his teeth, "has been informed, and +he declines to come to her. That's the sort of brute he is." + +Lucas Errol made no comment, and after a moment Nap continued: + +"It is just as well perhaps. I hear he is never sober after a day's +sport. And I believe she hates the sight of him if the truth were +told--and small wonder!" + +There was unrestrained savagery in the last words. Lucas turned his head +and looked at him thoughtfully. + +"You know her rather well?" he said. + +"Yes." Nap's eyes, glowing redly, met his with a gleam of defiance. + +"You have known her for long?" The question was perfectly quiet, uttered +in the tired voice habitual to this man who had been an invalid for +almost the whole of his manhood. + +Yet Nap frowned as he heard it. "I don't know," he said curtly. "I don't +estimate friendships by time." + +Lucas said no more, but he continued to look at his brother with +unvarying steadiness till at length, as if goaded thereto, Nap +spoke again. + +"We are friends," he said, "no more, no less. You all think me a +blackguard, I know. It's my speciality, isn't it?" He spoke with +exceeding bitterness. "But in this case you are wrong. I repeat--we +are friends." + +He said it aggressively; his tone was almost a challenge, but the elder +Errol did not appear to notice. + +"I have never thought you a blackguard, Boney," he said quietly. + +Nap's thin lips smiled cynically. "You have never said it." + +"I have never thought it." There was no contradicting the calm assertion. +It was not the way of the world to contradict Lucas Errol. "And I know +you better than a good many," he said. + +Nap stirred restlessly and was silent. + +Lucas turned his eyes from him and seemed to fall into a reverie. +Suddenly, however, he roused himself. + +"What does the doctor say about her?" + +Nap frowned. "He says very little. After the manner of his tribe, he is +afraid to commit himself; thinks there may be this injury or there may be +that, but says definitely nothing. I shall get someone down from town +to-morrow. I'd go tonight, only--" he broke off, hammering impotently +with his clenched fist on the arm of his chair. "I must be at hand +to-night," he said, after a moment, controlling himself. "The mater has +promised to call me if there is any change. You see," he spoke +half-apologetically, "she might feel kind of lonely waking up in a crowd +of strangers, and mine is the only face she knows." + +Silence followed the words. Lucas had closed his eyes, and there was +nothing in his face to indicate the trend of his thoughts. + +Nap sat with his face to the fire, and stared unblinkingly into the red +depths. There was no repose in his attitude, only the tension of +suppressed activity. + +Softly at length his brother's voice came through the silence. "Why not +dine, dear fellow, while you are waiting? You will do no good to anyone +by starving yourself." + +Nap looked round. "In Heaven's name, don't talk to me of eating!" he +said savagely. "You don't know what I've been through." Again he paused +to control himself, then added in a lower tone, "I thought she was dead, +you know." + +"It was you who picked her up?" Lucas asked. + +"Yes. There was no one else near." He spoke with feverish rapidity, as +though he found speaking a relief. "It was the old chalk-pit. You know +the place--or p'r'aps you don't. It's a ten-foot drop. The brute went +clean over, and he must have rolled on her or kicked her getting up." He +drew a sharp breath between his teeth. "When I found her she was lying +all crumpled up. I thought her back was broken at first." + +A sudden shudder assailed him. He repressed it fiercely. + +"And then, you know, it was foggy. I couldn't leave her. I was +afraid of losing my bearings. And so I just had to wait--Heaven +knows how long--till one of the keepers heard me shouting, and went +for help. And all that time--all that time--I didn't know whether +she was alive or dead." + +His voice sank to a hard whisper. He got up and vigorously poked the +fire. + +Lucas Errol endured the clatter for several seconds in silence: +then, "Boney," he said, "since you are feeling energetic, you might +lend me a hand." + +Nap laid down the poker instantly. "I am sorry, old fellow. I forgot. Let +me ring for Hudson." + +"Can't you help me yourself?" Lucas asked. + +Nap hesitated for a second; then stooped in silence to give the required +assistance. Lucas Errol, with a set face, accepted it, but once on his +feet he quitted Nap's support and leaned upon the mantelpiece to wipe +his forehead. + +"I knew I should hurt you," Nap said uneasily. + +The millionaire forced a smile that was twisted in spite of him. "Never +mind me!" he said. "It is your affairs that trouble me just now, not my +own. And, Boney, if you don't have a meal soon, you'll be making a big +fool of yourself and everyone will know it." + +The very gentleness of his speech seemed to make the words the more +emphatic. Nap raised no further protest. + +"Go and have it right now," his brother said. + +"And--in case I don't see you again--goodnight!" + +He held out his hand, still leaning against the mantelpiece. His eyes, +blue and very steady, looked straight into Nap's. So for a second or +two he held him while Nap, tight-lipped, uncompromising, looked +straight back. + +Then, "Good-night," Lucas said again gravely, and let him go. + +Yet for an instant longer Nap lingered as one on the verge of speech. But +nothing came of it. He apparently thought better--or worse--of the +impulse, and departed light-footed in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE HAND OF A FRIEND + + +What had happened to her? Slowly, with a sensation of doubt that seemed +to weigh her down, Anne rose to the surface of things, and looked once +more upon the world that had rushed so giddily away from her and left her +spinning through space. + +She was horribly afraid during those first few minutes, afraid with a +physical, overwhelming dread. She seemed to be yet falling, falling +through emptiness to annihilation. And as she fell she caught the sounds +of other worlds, vague whisperings in the dark. She was sinking, sinking +fast into a depth unfathomable, where no worlds were. + +And then--how it came to her she knew not, for she was powerless to help +herself--out of the chaos and the awful darkness a hand reached out and +grasped her own; a hand strong and vital that gripped and held, that +lifted her up, that guided her, that sustained her, through all the +terror that girt her round. + +The light dawned gradually in her eyes. She found herself gazing up into +a face she knew, a lean, brown face, alert and keen, that watched her +steadfastly. + +With an effort she clasped her nerveless fingers upon the +sustaining hand. + +"Hold me!" she whispered weakly. "I'm falling!" + +"Don't be afraid!" he made answer with infinite gentleness. "I have +you safe." + +Someone whom she saw but vaguely came behind him and whispered in a +vigorous undertone. A large white hand, on which flashed many rings, +rested upon his shoulder. + +He moved slightly, took something into his free hand and held it to her +lips. Submissively, in answer to an influence that seemed to fold her +about and gently to compel, she drank. + +Slowly the mist of dread cleared from her brain. Slowly she awoke to full +consciousness, and found Nap Errol bending over her, her hand fast +clasped in his. + +"What happened?" she asked him faintly. "Where am I?" + +"You are at Baronmead," he said. "You were thrown and we brought +you here." + +"Ah!" Her brows contracted a little. "Am I much hurt?" she asked. + +"Nothing to worry about," Nap said with quiet confidence. "You will soon +be all right again. I will leave you to get a good sleep, shall I? If +you are wanting anything my mother will be here." + +She looked at him doubtfully. Her hand still clung to his, +half-mechanically it seemed. + +"Mr. Errol," she faltered, "my husband--does he know?" + +"Yes, he knows." Very softly Nap made answer, as though he were soothing +a child. "Don't trouble about that. Don't trouble about anything. Just +lie still and rest." + +But the anxiety in her eyes was growing. "He isn't here?" she questioned. + +"No." + +"Then--then I think I ought to go to him. He will think it so strange. He +will--he will--" + +"Lady Carfax, listen!" Quietly but insistently he broke in upon her +rising agitation. "Your husband knows all about you. He couldn't come +to-night, but he is coming in the morning. Now won't you be content and +try to sleep?" + +"I can't sleep," she said, with a shudder. "I am afraid of falling." + +"No, you're not. See! I am holding your hands. You can't fall. Look at +me! Keep looking at me and you will see how safe you are!" + +His voice had sunk almost to a whisper. His eyes dusky, compelling, yet +strangely impersonal, held hers by some magic that was too utterly +intangible to frighten her. With a sigh she yielded to the mastery she +scarcely felt. + +And as she floated away into a peace indescribable, unlike anything +she had ever known before, she heard a woman's voice, hushed to a +sibilant whisper, remark, "My, Nap! You're too smart to be human. I +always said so." + +When she opened her eyes again it was many hours later, and she was lying +in the broad sunshine with the doctor, whom she knew, stooping over her. + +"Ah, you are awake at last!" he said. "And I find a marvellous +improvement. No, I shouldn't try to move at present. But I don't suppose +you can for a moment. You have had a wonderful escape, my dear lady, a +most wonderful escape. But for all that I shall keep you where you are +for the next fortnight or so. A badly jarred spine is not a thing to +play with." + +"Is that all?" Anne asked. + +He became cautious on the instant. "I don't say that is all. In any case +we will run no risks. Let me congratulate you upon having fallen into +such good hands." + +He glanced over Anne's head at someone on the other side of the bed, and +Anne turned slightly to see the person thus indicated. And so she had her +first sight of the woman who ruled Lucas Errol's house. + +She had heard of her more than once. People smiled, not unkindly, when +they mentioned Mrs. Errol, a good sort, they said; but, like many another +woman of inelegant exterior, how good a sort only her Maker knew. She was +large in every way. It was the only word that described her; +large-boned, large-featured, and so stout that she wheezed--a fact which +in no way limited her activity. Her voice was as deep as a man's, and it +went even deeper when she laughed. + +But she was not laughing now. Her face was full of the most kindly +concern. "Lord bless the child!" she said. "She don't know me yet. +I'm Mrs. Errol, dear, Mrs. Lucas Blenheim Errol. And if there's +anything you want--well, you've only got to mention it to me and it's +as good as done." + +She spoke with a strong American accent. A Yankee of the Yankees was Mrs. +Errol, and she saw no reason to disguise the fact. She knew that people +smiled at her, but it made no difference to her. She was content to let +them smile. She even smiled at herself. + +"You are very good," Anne murmured. + +"Not a bit," said Mrs. Errol cheerfully. "I'm real pleased to have you, +dear. And don't you think you're giving any trouble to anybody, for there +isn't anything that pleases me so much as to have a girl to look after. +It's the biggest treat the Lord could send." + +Anne smiled a little, conscious of a glow at the heart that she had not +known for many a day. She tried weakly to give her hand to her new +friend, but the pain of moving was so intense that she uttered a quick +gasp and abandoned the attempt. + +But in an instant Mrs. Errol's fingers were wound closely about her own, +the large face, wonderfully smooth, save for a few kindly wrinkles about +the eyes, was bent to hers. + +"There, dearie, there!" said the motherly voice, tender for all its +gruffness. "You're stiff in every limb, and no wonder. It's just natural. +Just you lie still and leave everything to me." + +She was, in fact, determined to take the whole burden of nursing upon +herself, and when the doctor had gone she began to show Anne how capable +she was of fulfilling the responsibility she had thus undertaken. No +trained nurse could have given her more dexterous attention. + +"I've spent a great part of my life in sickrooms," she told Anne. "First +my husband, and then poor Lucas, that's my eldest boy. But Lucas won't +have me to wait on him now. He doesn't like his mother to see him in his +bad hours, and they are mighty bad now and then. So my nursing talents +would run to seed if it weren't for a casual patient like yourself." + +It was so evident that she enjoyed her self-appointed task that Anne +could only smile and thank her. She was helpless as an infant and could +not have refused her hostess's ministrations even had she desired to do +so. She suffered a good deal of pain also, and this kept her from taking +much note of her surroundings during that first day at Baronmead. + +She refrained from asking further about her husband for some time, +avoiding all mention of him, but she was possessed by a nervous dread +that increased steadily as the hours wore on. At last, as Mrs. Errol +seemed equally determined to volunteer no information, she summoned her +resolution and compelled herself to speak. + +"My husband has not come yet?" she asked. + +"No, dear." Mrs. Errol smiled upon her with much kindness, but her tone +did not encourage further inquiries. + +Anne lay silent for a little. It was a difficult matter to handle. +"Did he send no message?" she asked at last, with knitted brows. "I +thought--or did I dream it?--that your son said he was coming." + +"To be sure he did," said Mrs. Errol. "You would like to speak to Nap +about it, wouldn't you?" + +Anne hesitated. Mrs. Errol was already on her way to the door. It was +plain that here was a responsibility she was unprepared to shoulder. But +Anne called her back. + +"No, please!" she said, a slight flush on her face. "Don't call him in +again! Really, it is of no consequence." + +But in spite of this assertion her uneasiness regarding her husband grew +rapidly from that moment--an uneasiness that she was powerless to control +or hide. Could it be--was it possible?--that he meant to leave her thus +abandoned to the pitying kindness of strangers? She could hardly believe +it. And yet--and yet--he had done un-heard-of things before. There were +times, times that had become more and more frequent of late, when she +doubted his sanity. Those devilish moods of his, whither were they +tending? Was he in the grip of one of them now? And if so--if so--what +would happen to her? What could she do? + +As the hours passed, the torture of suspense so worked upon her that +she began to grow feverish. The afternoon was waning and still no +word had come. + +She tried to reassure herself again and again, but each failure added to +her distress. + +"You mustn't fret, child," said Mrs. Errol gently, when she brought her +tea. "It's the worst thing possible. Come, come! What is it?" + +Anne tried to tell her, but could not. The very utterance of her +fears was more than she could accomplish in her present state. Words +failed her. + +Mrs. Errol said no more, but presently she went quietly away, leaving her +alone in the firelight, chafing but impotent. + +She was soon back again, however, and a muffled word on the threshold +told Anne that she was not alone. She turned her head sharply on the +pillow regardless of wrenched muscles, hoping against hope. But she +looked in vain for her husband's tall figure, and a sigh that was almost +a groan escaped her. It was Nap, slim, upright, and noiseless, who +stepped from behind Mrs. Errol and came to her bedside. + +He stooped a little and took her quivering hand, holding it in both his +own so that his fingers pressed upon her pulse. + +"The mater thought you would like to speak to me," he said. + +She looked up at him with eyes of piteous entreaty. She was long past any +thought of expediency so far as he was concerned. It seemed only natural +in her trouble to turn to him for help. Had he not helped her before? +Besides, she knew that he understood things that she could not utter. + +"Oh, Nap," she said admitting him unconsciously in her extremity to an +intimacy she would never have dreamed of according him in any less urgent +circumstances, "I am greatly troubled about my husband. You said he would +come to me, but--he hasn't come!" + +"I know he hasn't," Nap said. He spoke quietly, but she was aware of a +certain grimness in his speech. "I shouldn't worry if I were you. It +won't help you any. Is there anyone else you would like sent for?" + +"I have--no one else," she said, her voice quivering beyond her control. +"How can I lie here and not worry?" + +"Lord bless the child!" said Mrs. Errol vigorously. "What is there to +worry about, anyway?" + +But Nap was silent. His fingers were still closed firmly upon her wrist. + +"Mrs. Errol is very good," Anne said earnestly. "You mustn't think me +ungrateful or unappreciative. But I cannot go on like this. I cannot!" + +"I am afraid you have no choice," Nap said. + +She scarcely heard him. At least she paid no heed. "Will you tell me +exactly what has passed? Has he definitely refused to come to me? +Because, if so--" + +"If so--" said Nap gently. + +She summoned her wavering self-control. "If so--I must go back to him at +once. I must indeed. You will manage it for me, will you not? Perhaps you +will take me yourself in the motor." + +"No," said Nap. He spoke briefly, even sternly. He was bending down over +her, and she caught the gleam of the firelight in his eyes and thought +that they shone red. "I would do a good deal for you, Lady Carfax," he +said, "but I can't do that. You ask the impossible." He paused a moment +and she felt his grasp slowly tighten upon her hand. "You want to know +what passed, and perhaps it is better that you should know even if it +distresses you. I sent a messenger in the motor to Sir Giles last night +to tell him of your accident and to beg him to return here with him. He +came back alone with no definite reply. He did not, in fact, see Sir +Giles, though the message was delivered. I waited till noon today to see +if he would come, and then as there was no sign of him I went myself in +the motor to fetch him." + +"Ah!" Anne's lips parted to utter the word. They were quivering +uncontrollably. + +"I saw him," Nap went on very quietly. "I practically forced an entrance. +He was in his study alone. I fancy he was feeling sick, but I didn't stop +to inquire. I told him you were wanting him. I was quite kind to him--for +your sake." She fancied the grim lips smiled. "But I regret to say he +didn't appreciate my kindness, and I soon saw that he was in no state to +come to you even if he would. So--I left him and came away." + +"Ah!" Again that faint exclamation that was like the half-uttered cry of +a woman's heart. "He wasn't--wasn't rude to you, I hope?" + +Nap's teeth showed for an instant. He made no reply. + +"Mr. Errol," she said beseechingly, "please tell me everything! He did +not--did not--" + +"Kick me?" questioned Nap drily. "My dear lady, no man may kick Nap Errol +and live. So I did not give him the opportunity." + +She uttered a quick sob and turned her head upon the pillow. The tears +were running down her face. + +The hand that pressed her wrist began to rub it very gently. "That's +the worst of telling the truth," Nap said softly. "It is sure to +hurt someone." + +"I am glad you told me," she whispered back, "though I don't know what to +say to you--how to atone--" + +"I will tell you then," he answered swiftly. "Stay quietly here and be +as happy as you can till the doctor gives you leave to go back. You will +have to do it in any case, but--if you feel you owe me anything, which of +course you don't"--he smiled again, and his smile when free from cynicism +held a wonderful charm--"do it willingly--please do it willingly!" + +She could not answer him in words, but her fingers closed upon his. +Instantly she felt his answering pressure. A moment later he laid her +hand down very gently and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STING OF A SCORPION + + +"Oh, dear, I wish it wasn't so muddy." Dot, emerging from old Squinny's +cottage, stood a moment on the edge of the large puddle that was old +Squinny's garden and gazed over the ploughed fields beyond towards the +sinking sun. It was the last day in January, and the winter dusk was +already creeping up in a curtain of damp mist that veiled everything it +touched. She knew it would be dark long before she got home, and the +prospect of sliding about in the muddy lanes did not attract her. + +"You were an idiot not to bring a lantern," she told herself severely, +as she skirted the edge of the puddle. "You might have known--but you +never think!" + +Here she reached the garden-gate and lifted it scientifically off its +hinges and then back again when she had passed through. Old Squinny's +gate had not opened in the ordinary way within the memory of man. It was +stoutly bound to the gate-post by several twists of rusty chain. + +A stretch of waste land lay beyond the cottage garden; then came the +road and then the fields, brown and undulating in the ruddy western glow. +For a second or two Dot considered the homeward path that lay across the +fields. She had come by that earlier in the afternoon, and she knew +exactly what it had to offer besides the advantage of cutting half a mile +from a three-mile trudge. But her knowledge eventually decided her in +favour of the road. + +"Besides," as she optimistically remarked to herself, "someone might pass +and give me a lift." + +For Dot was not above being seen in a waggon or a tradesman's cart. +She accepted as she was prone to give, promiscuously and with +absolute freedom. + +But it was no tradesman's cart that the gods had in store for her that +day. Rather was it a chariot of their own that presently swooped as if +upon wings swiftly and smoothly down upon the Sturdy wayfarer. Dot +herself was scarcely aware of its approach before it had passed and come +to a standstill barely half a dozen yards from her. + +"Hullo!" cried a boyish voice. "This is luck! Jump in! I'll soon trundle +you home." + +It was Bertie leaning out from the wheel on which his hands rested. In +the open seat behind him, propped by cushions, sat a man whom she knew +instantly though she had never met him before. He looked at her as she +came up to the car with blue eyes as frank and kind as Bertie's, though +not so merry. It was not difficult to see that they were brothers. + +"My brother Lucas," said Bertie, "the one you wanted to know." + +He smiled as he said it for the sheer malicious pleasure of seeing her +blush. And Dot's green-brown eyes shot him a glance of quick indignation. + +But Lucas Errol stepped calmly into the breach. "This young brother of +mine has a way of turning things topsy-turvy," he said in his easy drawl. +"We just make allowances for him when we can, and kick him when we can't. +It is I who have wanted to know you, Miss Waring--it is Miss Waring, I +think?--for some time past. Won't you get in beside me and give me the +pleasure of making your acquaintance?" + +He pulled off his glove and offered her his hand. + +Dot instantly took it, but when he would have helped her in she drew +back. "I had better not, really. Look at my boots!" + +"Jump in!" urged Bertie. "Who cares?" + +He sprang suddenly down and seized her impulsively by the waist. In +another second he would have bundled her in without ceremony, but +quietly, with no change of countenance, his brother intervened. + +"Bertie, behave yourself! Miss Waring, I beg you will do exactly as you +like, but please believe that the state of your boots doesn't matter a +cent. I should say the same with absolute honesty if I had to clean the +car myself." + +"I am quite sure I shouldn't in your place," said Dot as she climbed +into the car. + +Lucas smiled and fished out a spare rug. "Put it round your shoulders and +fold it well over. You will find it cold when we begin to move. Are your +feet quite warm? There is a foot-warmer here. Tuck her in well, Bertie. +That's the way." + +"You will never get out again," laughed Bertie, as he shut the door upon +her. "Now, where are we going? To Baronmead?" + +His merry eyes besought her for an instant; then, as she began to shake +her head, "Can't you persuade her, Luke?" he said. + +"I think so," Lucas answered. "Drive on slowly while I try. You know +there is a friend of yours there, Miss Waring?" + +"Lady Carfax?" said Dot quickly. + +He bent his head. "I think she would like you to visit her. She has so +few friends." + +"I would love to, of course," Dot said impetuously. "But--you know, I've +never visited her before, though I have often longed to. People don't +call at the Manor. Not even Dad goes there. And in any case, I am hardly +grown up enough to pay calls. Wouldn't she--are you sure she wouldn't +think it very presumptuous of me to go and see her?" + +"That is the last thing I should expect from her," Lucas answered, with +quiet conviction. + +"She is very proud," Dot began. + +"She is very miserable," he said. + +Dot's eyes softened. "Oh, poor Lady Carfax!" she said. "So you know +that, too!" + +"I have seen her only twice," he said. "Yes, I know it." + +Dot's eyes widened. "Only twice! Why, surely it must be three weeks +nearly since her accident." + +"I believe it is. But it was serious, you know, and she has made a very +slow recovery. The doctor has only just allowed her to be removed to +another room." + +"Poor Lady Carfax!" Dot said again. "Yes, I'll come. I know Dad +wouldn't mind!" + +So Bertie had his desire and turned the motor with a light heart towards +Baronmead. He sang as he drove, sang at the top of his voice; for he was +in a happy mood that evening. + +And Dot was happy too, though a little nervous. She had often longed to +go to Baronmead, and she was already thoroughly at her ease with the +master thereof, who sat and conversed beside her in that rather +monotonous, tired drawl of his. It was only the thought of Anne that made +her nervous. Warmly as she admired her, she was ever so slightly afraid +of the stately lady of the Manor, who made friends with so few and for +all her queenly graciousness kept those she had at so discreet a +distance. Of course everyone knew why. The reason was plain to all who +had eyes to see. But that fact did not help any to overstep the barrier, +nor did it keep the majority from being affronted. Dot was not of the +latter, but she was ever shy in Anne's presence, though it was more the +fear of hurting than of being hurt that made her so. + +She enjoyed the brisk run to Baronmead with all her healthy soul. As they +sped up the long drive they were joined by a galloping horseman, who +shouted to Bertie to put on speed and flogged his animal furiously when +the car drew ahead. He looked like a demon to Dot in the half-light--a +black imp mounted on a black mare riding to perdition. She was glad to +leave him behind. + +But as they drew up before the great house that loomed gaunt and eerie in +the gathering darkness the galloping hoofs drew near again, and before +they were out of the car Nap was beside them. + +He flung himself out of the saddle, with a curt, "Here, Bertie! Take the +brute for me. Mind her teeth! She's in a vile temper." + +"What a beast you are!" was Bertie's comment, as he went to the +panting animal. + +The valet, Hudson, was waiting to help his master out of the car, but Nap +pushed him imperiously aside. His quick, lithe movements fascinated Dot. +She stood and watched him as he dexterously assisted the heavy, misshapen +figure of his brother to alight. He was wonderfully strong for so slight +a man. He seemed compacted of muscle and energy, welded together with a +certain fiery grace that made him in some fashion remarkable. He was +utterly different from any other man she had ever seen. + +"Will you go first, Miss Waring?" It was Lucas Errol's voice. He leaned +on his brother's shoulder, waiting for her. + +Nap glanced round at her. She saw his ironical smile for an instant. +"Miss Waring prefers to wait for Bertie, perhaps," he remarked. + +The words stung her, she scarcely knew why, and what had been a +half-reluctant prejudice before turned to sudden hot antagonism in Dot's +heart. She hated Nap Errol from that moment. + +But Lucas laid a quiet hand on her arm, and her resentment died. + +"I think Miss Waring was waiting for me," he said. "Will you let me lean +on you, Miss Waring? Steps are always a difficulty to me." + +"Of course," she said eagerly. "Do lean hard!" + +It occurred to her afterwards that the valet's assistance would have been +more effectual than hers, and at the top of the steps she glanced back at +him. He was immediately behind them, laden with some things he had taken +from the car. His eyes, as he ascended, were fixed upon Nap, and a +curious little thrill of sympathy ran through Dot as she realised that +she was not the only person who hated him. + +As they passed into the great entrance-hall Bertie came springing up +behind them. "I say, can't we have tea here before you go up to see Lady +Carfax? It's the cosiest place in the whole house." + +A huge fire burned on an open hearth, about which a deep lounge and +several easy-chairs were arrayed. + +"That will be O.K.," said Lucas. "Fix me up on the settee, Nap." + +"You had better go and rest in your room," said Nap. "Bertie and Miss +Waring are accustomed to entertaining each other." + +Again Dot felt the sting--this time a tangible one--in his words. He was +evidently in a stinging mood. + +She drew back quickly. "I would rather go straight up to Lady Carfax +if I may." + +"Oh, I say, don't!" thrust in Bertie with a quick frown. "Lucas, you'll +stay, won't you, and have tea with us here?" + +"That is my intention," said Lucas, "if Miss Waring will give us the +pleasure of her company." + +And Dot, though she longed to escape, went forward with him into the glow +of the firelight. + +She hoped earnestly that Nap would depart, but for some reason Nap was +minded to remain. He settled his brother on the cushions and then flung +himself into a chair on the other side of the fire. Dot was aware without +looking at him that he had her under observation; she felt the scrutiny +she could not see, and knew it was malevolent. + +Bertie evidently knew it too, for he was scowling savagely in a fashion +quite unfamiliar to her. He placed a chair for her close to Lucas. + +"I guess we must ask you to do the honours, Miss Waring," the latter +said. "My mother must be with Lady Carfax." + +"Here's an opportunity for Miss Waring to display her charms!" gibed Nap. +"But doubtless Bertie has been initiated in the arts and wiles of +tea-making long before this. It's a bewitching performance, eh, Bertie?" + +Bertie growled something unintelligible and turned his back. + +"Give him plenty of sugar, Miss Waring," recommended Nap. "He's +remarkably guileless. With a little patience and subtlety on your part +he'll soon come and feed out of your hand. After that, a little feminine +persuasion is all that is required to entice the pretty bird into the +cage. He's quite a fine specimen; such a lot of gold about him, too! It +would be a pity to let him escape. There are not many of his sort, I +assure you." + +The drawling insolence of the words made Dot quiver all over. She knew by +Bertie's rigidity of pose that he was furious too, but she did not dare +to look at him. She tried to attend to some remark that Lucas made to +her, but she only answered at random. She could not take in what he said. + +Perhaps he saw her perturbation, for after a moment he turned from her to +Nap and very deliberately engaged him in conversation, while Bertie, +very pale but quite collected, sat down by her and began to talk also. + +She did her best to second his efforts, but with Nap's eyes openly +mocking her from the other side of the hearth, she found it impossible to +divert her thoughts. + +So they thought that of her, did they? They thought--that! She felt as if +she had been publicly weighed in the balances and found wanting. She told +herself passionately that she would never, as long as she lived, speak to +Nap Errol again. Everyone said he was a bounder, and everyone was right. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +BROTHERS + + +"Come right in!" said Mrs. Errol. "Anne, my dear, here is little Miss +Waring come to see you. I'm real pleased to meet you, child. I've watched +you in church many a time when I ought to have been saying my prayers, +and so has someone else I know." + +Dot's cheeks were scarlet as she came forward to Anne's couch. She was +still telling herself with fierce emphasis that never, never again would +she voluntarily venture herself within the walls of Baronmead. + +But when Anne stretched out a hand to her and smiled, all her +perturbation vanished at a breath. She went impulsively forward and knelt +down by her side. For some reason she did not feel her customary awe of +the lady of the Manor. This sad-faced woman with the deeply shadowed eyes +aroused within her something that was stronger, something that carried +her completely out of herself. + +"Oh, are you better?" she said. "I have been so sorry about you." + +"It was good of you to come up to see me," Anne said gently. "Yes, Dot, +I am better. I am allowed to walk again, and I am going home to-morrow." + +"Not if I know it," said Mrs. Errol stoutly. "Or if you do, I go too, to +take care of you." + +Anne smiled at her without replying. "Sit down, Dot," she said, "and tell +me all the news. I know you hear everything." + +"But nothing has happened," said Dot. "Everybody is squabbling as usual +about the Town Hall, why we want one, why there isn't one, and when we +are going to have one. Really, there's nothing else." + +"My dear," said Mrs. Errol, "everybody wants a sound spanking, and I +should like to administer it. Every township ought to have a public +building, and there's my son Lucas wanting nothing so much as to build +one and they won't let him." + +"I am afraid my husband is the main obstacle," said Anne. + +"Then I guess we won't discuss it," said Mrs. Errol firmly. "Who's that +scratching at the door?" + +It was Bertie, as Anne knew on the instant by Dot's face. "Do ask him to +come in," she said kindly. + +Bertie came in as one not wholly sure of his welcome, and took up a +position in the background. And there during the remainder of Dot's +visit he stayed, scarcely speaking, and so sternly preoccupied that +Dot's embarrassment returned upon her overwhelmingly, and she very soon +rose to go. + +He stepped forward then and followed her out. "I am going to motor you +home," he said, as he escorted her down the stairs. + +Dot nearly stopped short in consternation. "Oh, no, really! I'm going +home alone. It's no distance, and I know my way perfectly." + +"I'm coming with you," he said doggedly. + +But the memory of those eyes that had mocked her across the hall still +burned in the girl's heart. She faced him resolutely; + +"You are not to, Bertie. I don't wish it." + +"I can't help it," said Bertie. "I am coming." + +At this point they arrived in the hall, and here she found Lucas Errol +waiting to say good-bye to her. + +She turned to him with desperate appeal. "Mr. Errol, please don't let +Bertie see me home. I--I would so much rather go alone." + +She was almost crying as she said it, and Lucas looked at Bertie with +most unaccustomed sharpness. + +"It's all right," the boy made answer. "We haven't quarrelled yet." + +The last word sounded ominous, and with her hand in Lucas's quiet grasp, +Dot shivered. + +"But I'm sure we are going to," she said. "And I do so hate quarrelling. +Do, please, let me run home alone. I'm not a bit afraid." + +Lucas began to smile. "I think it's rather hard on Bertie," he said. +"However--" + +"I must go, Lucas," Bertie said quickly. "You don't understand. There is +something I want to explain." + +But Lucas leaned a hand upon his shoulder. "Let it keep, dear fellow. +There is always tomorrow!" + +"No, never, never, never!" whispered Dot to her turbulent heart. + +Yet when a moment later Bertie came forward, and silently, without +looking at her, held open the door, a wild regret surged fiercely +through her, and for that second she almost wished that she had let him +go with her. + +And then again there came to her that hateful whisper--that taunting, +intolerable sneer; and she fled without a backward glance. + +Bertie closed the great door very quietly, and turned back into the hall. + +"Where is Nap?" + +"Come here, Bertie," Lucas said. + +He went unwillingly. "Where is Nap?" he said again. + +Lucas, supporting himself on one side with a crutch, stood by the fire +and waited for him. + +As Bertie drew near he took him gently by the shoulder. "May I know what +you were going to say to Miss Waring just now?" he asked. + +Bertie threw back his head. "I was going to ask her to overlook that +cad's vile insinuations--and marry me." + +"And that was the very thing she didn't want you to do," Lucas said. + +"I can't help it." There was a stubborn note in Bertie's voice. "She +shan't think I'm a blackguard like Nap." + +"We will leave Nap out of it," Lucas said quietly. + +"Why?" demanded Bertie hotly. "He was responsible. He insulted a guest +under your roof. Are you going to put up with that? Because I'm not!" + +"My dear fellow, it is I, not you, who must deal with that." + +Bertie stamped furiously. "That's all very well, but--dash it, Lucas, +you're always holding me back. And I can't knock under to you in this. +I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm going to have it out with Nap. Whatever you +may say, it is more my business than yours." + +He would have flung round with the words, but his brother's hand was +still upon him, restraining him. + +He paused, chafing. "You must let me go. I shall hurt you if you don't." + +"You will hurt me if I do, boy," Lucas made grave reply. + +"I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't help it. There are times when a +man--if he is a man--must act for himself. And I--" he broke off, still +chafing, his hand seeking without violence to free him from that hold +which could not have been so very powerful, though it resisted his +efforts. "Luke," he said suddenly, and the anger was gone from his voice, +"let me go, old chap. You must let me go. It isn't right--it isn't just +to--to take advantage of being--what you are." + +The quick falter in the words deprived them of any sting, yet on the +instant Lucas's hand fell, setting him free. + +"All right, Bertie! Go!" he said. + +And Bertie went--three steps, and halted. Lucas remained motionless +before the fire. He was not so much as looking at him. + +Several seconds passed in silence. Then impulsively Bertie turned. His +lips were quivering. He went straight back to the quiet figure on the +hearth, lifted the free arm, and drew it boyishly round his neck. + +"Old chap, forgive me!" he said. + +"For what you haven't done?" Lucas asked, with a very kindly smile. + +"For being an unconscionable brute!" Bertie said, with feeling. "I didn't +mean, it, old man. I didn't mean it!" + +"Oh, shucks, dear fellow! Don't be such a silly ass! It's demoralising +for all concerned." Lucas Errol's hand pressed his shoulder +admonishingly. "She's a nice little girl, Bertie. I've taken a kind of +fancy to her myself." + +Bertie looked up quickly. "Luke, you're a brick!" + +Lucas shook his head. "But you mustn't ask her yet, lad. She's not ready +for it. I'm not sure that you are ready for it yourself." + +Bertie's face fell. "Why not? I'm in dead earnest. I want to marry her, +just as soon as she will have me." + +"Quite so," drawled Nap, from the depths of the lounge behind him. "And +she, I doubt not, wants to marry you--even sooner, if possible." + +He had come up in his noiseless fashion unobserved. Attired in evening +dress, slim, sleek, well-groomed, he lay at full length and gazed up at +the two brothers, a malicious glitter in his eyes. He held an unlighted +cigarette between his fingers. + +"Pray don't let me interrupt, Lucas," he said airily, ignoring Bertie's +sharp exclamation, which was not of a pacific nature. "I always enjoy +seeing you trying to teach the pride of the Errols not to make a fool of +himself. It's a gigantic undertaking, isn't it? Let me know if you +require any assistance." + +He placed the cigarette between his lips and felt for some matches. + +"I am going to turn my attention to you now," Lucas rejoined in his tired +voice. "Bertie, old chap, go and dress, will you? You can come to my room +afterwards." + +"Bring me one of those spills first," said Nap. + +Bertie stood rigid. He was white to the lips with the effort to control +himself. Nap, outstretched, supple as a tiger, lay and watched him +unwaveringly. + +"Go, Bertie!" Lucas said very quietly. + +He took a spill himself from the mantelpiece, and tried to hold it to the +blaze. But he stooped with difficulty, and sharply Bertie reached forward +and took it from him. + +"I will," he said briefly, and lighting the spill, carried it to Nap, at +ease on the sofa. + +With a faint smile Nap awaited him. He did not offer to take the burning +spill, and Bertie held it in sullen silence to the end of his cigarette. +His hand was not very steady, and after a moment Nap took his wrist. + +The cigarette glowed, and Nap looked up. "It's a pity you're too big to +thrash, Bertie," he said coolly, and with a sudden movement doubled the +flaming paper back upon the fingers that held it. + +Bertie's yell was more of rage than pain. He struck furiously at his +tormentor with his free hand, but Nap, by some trick of marvellous +agility, evaded the blow. He leapt over the back of the settee with a +laugh of devilish derision. + +And, "Bertie, go!" said Lucas peremptorily. + +Without a word Bertie checked himself as it were in mid career, stood a +second as one gathering his strength, then turned in utter silence and +marched away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE JESTER'S INFERNO + + +Between the two men who were left not a word passed for many minutes. Nap +prowled to and fro with his head back and his own peculiarly insolent +smile curving the corners of his mouth. There was a ruddy glare in his +eyes, but they held no anger. + +Lucas, still leaning on his crutch, stood with his back turned, his face +to the fire. There was no anger about him either. He looked spent. + +Abruptly Nap ceased his pacing and came up to him. "Come!" he said. "You +have had enough of this. I will help you to your room." + +Slowly Lucas lifted his heavy eyes. "Send Hudson to me," he said. + +Nap looked at him sharply. Then, "Lean on me," he said. "I'll help you." + +"No. Send Hudson." The words ended upon a stifled groan. + +Nap turned swiftly and dragged forward the settee. "Lie down here for a +minute, while I fetch him. Don't faint, man! You will be easier +directly. You have been on your feet too long. There! Is that better?" + +Lucas drew a long, shuddering breath and slowly suffered his limbs to +relax. His face was ghastly though he forced himself to smile. + +"Yes, I am better. Don't call Hudson for a minute. Nap!" + +Nap bent. + +"Put your hand under my shoulders. Ah! That's a help. I always like your +touch. Say, Boney," the words came gaspingly, the sunken eyes were heavy +with pain, "you'll think me a mean brute. I am, dear fellow, I am; a +coward, too, from the same point of view. But--ill or well, I've got to +say it. You've been running amok to-day, and it's been altogether too +lively to be just pleasant. You've got to pull up. I say it." + +Nap's smile had utterly departed. It was some other impulse that twitched +his lips as he made reply. + +"Whatever you say is law." + +"Thanks! I'm duly grateful. Do you mind wiping my forehead? I'm too lazy +to move. Boney, old chap, he's a well-behaved youngster on the whole. +What do you want to bait him for?" + +"Because I'm a jealous devil," Nap said through his teeth. + +"Oh, rats, dear fellow! We are not talking in parables. You're a bit of a +savage, I know, but--" + +"More than that," threw in Nap. + +"No--no! You can hold yourself in if you try. And why jealous, anyway? +We're all brothers. Say, Boney, I'm going to hurt you infernally. You hit +the youngster below the belt. It was foul play." + +"What can you expect?" muttered Nap. + +"I expect--better things. If you must be a beast, be a clean beast. If +you must hit out now and then, give him a chance to hit back. It's kind +of shabby--the game you played today." + +"Are you going to make me apologise?" asked Nap grimly. + +"Shucks, no; He would think you were laughing at him. Clap him on the +back and tell him not to be a fool. He'll understand that." + +"And wish him luck with the parson's daughter?" said Nap, with a sneer. + +"Why not, old chap?" + +"You really mean to let him marry the first girl who runs after +his dollars?" + +"It isn't the dollars," said the millionaire gently. "And she isn't +running after him either. She's running away." + +"Same thing sometimes," said Nap. + +"Oh, don't be cynical, Boney! It's so damned cheap! There! I've done +swearing at you for the present. It's wonderful how you fellows bear with +me. Find Hudson, will you? And then go and tell Lady Carfax that I am +afraid I can't visit her this evening as I had hoped." + +"Do you know she talks of leaving tomorrow?" said Nap. + +"Yes, I know. Guess she is quite right to go." + +"She's not fit for it," said Nap, in a fierce undertone. "It's madness. I +told her so. But she wouldn't listen." + +"She is the best judge," his brother said. "Anyway, she is in an +intolerable position. We can't press her to prolong it. Besides--whatever +he is--her husband has first right." + +"Think so?" said Nap. + +"It is so," Lucas asserted quietly, "whether you admit it or not." + +Nap did not dispute the point, but his jaw looked exceedingly +uncompromising as he departed to find the valet. + +When a little later he asked for admission to Anne's presence, however, +his bitter mood seemed to have modified. He entered with the air of one +well assured of his welcome. + +"Are you in a mood for chess tonight?" he asked. + +"Now, you're not to plague her, Nap," put in Mrs. Errol. "She isn't going +to spend her last evening amusing you." + +"Oh, please," protested Anne. "It is your son who has had all the +amusing to do." + +Nap smiled. "There's for you, alma mater!" he remarked as he sat down. + +"Lady Carfax is much too forbearing to say anything else," retorted +Mrs. Errol. + +"Lady Carfax always tells the truth," said Nap, beginning to set the +chess-board, "which is the exact reason why all her swains adore her." + +"Well," said Mrs. Errol very deliberately, though without venom, "I guess +that's about the last quality I should expect you to appreciate." + +"Strange to say, it is actually the first just now," said Nap. "Are you +going, alma mater? Don't let me drive you away!" + +He rose, nevertheless, to open the door for her; and Mrs. Errol went, +somewhat with the air of one complying with an unspoken desire. + +Nap came softly back and resumed his task. "P'r'aps you will be good +enough to refrain from referring to me again as the august lady's son," +he said. "She doesn't like it." + +"Why not?" said Anne in astonishment. + +He glanced up at her as if contemplating something. Then, "You see, the +benign mother is not over and above proud of me," he drawled. "If it were +Bertie now--well, I guess even you will admit that Bertie is the flower +of the flock." + +His manner mystified her, but it was not her way to seek to probe +mysteries. She smiled as she said, "I have yet to discover that you are +so very despicable." + +"You have yet to discover--many things," said Nap enigmatically. "Will +you be pleased to make the first move?" + +She did so silently. They had played together several times before. He +had formed a habit of visiting her every evening, and though her skill +at the game was far from great, it had been a welcome diversion from the +constant anxiety that pressed so heavily upon her. Nap was an expert +player, yet he seemed to enjoy the poor game which was all she had to +offer. Perhaps he liked to feel her at his mercy. She strongly suspected +that he often deliberately prolonged the contest though he seldom allowed +her to beat him. + +To-night, however, he seemed to be in a restless mood, and she soon saw +that he was bent upon a swift victory. He made his moves with a quick +dexterity that baffled her completely, and but a very few minutes elapsed +before he uttered his customary warning. + +"You would do well to beware." + +"Which means that I am beaten, I suppose," she said, with a smile of +resignation. + +"You can save yourself if you like," he said, with his eyes on the board, +"if you consider it worth while." + +"I don't think I do," she answered. "The end will be the same." + +His eyes flashed up at her. "You surrender unconditionally?" + +She continued to smile despite the sadness of her face. "Absolutely. I am +so accustomed to defeat that I am getting callous." + +"You seem to have great confidence in my chivalry," he said, looking +full at her. + +"I have--every confidence, Mr. Errol," she answered gravely. "I think +that you and your brother are the most chivalrous men I know." + +His laugh had a ring of harshness. "Believe me, I am not accustomed to +being ranked with the saints," he said. "How shall I get away from your +halo? I warn you, it's a most awful misfit. You'll find it out presently, +and make me suffer for your mistake." + +"You haven't a very high opinion of my sense of justice," Anne said, with +just a tinge of reproach in her gentle voice. + +"No," he said recklessly. "None whatever. You are sure to forget who +fashioned the halo. Women always do." + +Anne was silent. + +He leaned suddenly towards her, careless of the chessmen that rolled in +all directions. "I haven't been living up to the halo to-day," he said, +and there was that in his voice that touched her to quick pity. "I've +been snapping and biting like a wild beast all day long. I've been in +hell myself, and I've made it hell wherever I went." + +"Oh, but why?" Half involuntarily she held out her hand to him as one who +would assist a friend in deep waters. + +He took it, held it closely, bowed his forehead upon it, and so sat +tensely silent. + +"Something is wrong. I wish I could help you," she said at last. + +He lifted his head, met her eyes of grave compassion, and abruptly +set her free. + +"You have done what you could for me," he said. "You've made me hate my +inferno. But you can't pull me out. You have"--she saw his teeth for a +second though scarcely in a smile--"other fish to fry." + +"Whatever I am doing, I shall not forget my friends, Nap," she said, with +great earnestness. + +"No," he returned, "you won't forget them. I shouldn't wonder if you +prayed for them even. I am sure you are one of the faithful." There was +more of suppressed misery than irony in his voice. "But is that likely to +help when you don't so much as know what to pray for?" + +He got up and moved away from her with that noiseless footfall that was +so like the stealthy padding of a beast. + +Anne lay and silently watched him. Her uncertainty regarding him had long +since passed away. Though she was far from understanding him, he had +become an intimate friend, and she treated him as such. True, he was +unlike any other man she had ever met, but that fact had ceased to +embarrass her. She accepted him as he was. + +He came back at length and sat down, smiling at her, though +somewhat grimly. + +"You will pardon your poor jester," he said, "if he fails to make a joke +on your last night. He could make jokes--plenty of them, but not of the +sort that would please you." + +Anne said nothing. She would not, if she could help it, betray to any +how much she was dreading the morrow. But she felt that he knew it in +spite of her. + +His next words revealed the fact. "You are going to purgatory," he +said, "and I am going to perdition. Do you know, I sometimes wonder if +we shouldn't do better to turn and fly in the face of the gods when +they drive us too hard? Why do we give in when we've nothing to gain +and all to lose?" + +She met his look with her steadfast eyes. "Does duty count as +nothing?" she said. + +He made an impatient movement, and would have spoken, but she +stopped him. + +"Please don't rail at duty. I know your creed is pleasure, but the +pursuit of pleasure does not, after all, bring happiness." + +"Who wants pleasure?" demanded Nap fiercely. "That's only the anesthetic +when things get unbearable. You use duty in the same way. But what we +both want, what we both hanker for, starve for, is just life! Who cares +if there is pain with it? I don't, nor do you. And yet we keep on +stunting and stultifying ourselves with these old-fashioned remedies for +a disease we only half understand, when we might have all the world and +then some. Oh, we're fools--we're fools!" His voice rang wildly +passionate. He flung out his arms as if he wrestled with something. +"We've been cheated for centuries of our birthright, and we still put up +with it, still bring our human sacrifices to an empty shrine!" + +And there he broke off short, checked suddenly at the height of his +outburst though she had made no second effort to stop him. + +Her quiet eyes had not flinched from his. She had made no sign of +shrinking. With the utmost patience she had listened to him. Yet by some +means intangible the fiery stream of his rebellion was stayed. + +There fell a brief silence. Then he rose. "I am afraid I am not fit for +civilised society to-night," he said. "I will say good-bye." He held her +hand for a moment. "You will let me see you sometimes?" + +"I hope to come now and then to Baronmead," she answered quietly. "But +you will not--please--come to the Manor again." + +He looked down at her with eyes that had become inscrutable. "I shall not +come against your will," he said. + +"Thank you," she answered simply. + +And so he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A BIG THING + + +As the widowed rector's only daughter, Dot's occupations were many and +various, and it was in consequence no difficult matter to be too deeply +engrossed in these occupations to have any time to spare for intercourse +with the rector's pupil. + +Her brother had gone back to college, and there was therefore no excuse +for the said pupil to linger when his studies were over, though he +invented many that would not have borne a very close investigation. + +But his ingenuity was all to no purpose. Dot could be ingenious too, and +she evaded him so adroitly that at the end of a week he had abandoned +his efforts. + +He went about with a certain sternness in those days, but it was not the +sternness of the vanquished, rather the dogged patience of the man who is +quite sure of ultimate success. Dot, peeping from the kitchen window to +see him ride away, marked this on more than one occasion and +strengthened her defences in consequence. She had not the remotest +intention of seeing Bertie alone again for many a month, if ever. His +persistence had scared her badly on that night at Baronmead. She was +horribly afraid of what he might feel impelled to say to her, almost +terrified at the bare notion of an explanation, and the prospect of a +possible apology was unthinkable. It was easier for her to sacrifice his +good comradeship, though that of itself was no easy matter, and she could +only thrust her sense of loss into the background of her thoughts by the +most strenuous efforts. + +She was sturdily determined to make him relinquish their former pleasant +intimacy before they should meet again. She was growing up, she told +herself severely, growing up fast; and intimacies of that sort were +likely to be misconstrued. + +She took the counsel of none upon this difficult matter. Her father was +too vague a dreamer to guide her, or so much as to realise that she stood +in need of guidance. And Dot had gone her own independent way all her +life. Her healthy young mind was not accustomed to grapple with problems, +but she did not despair on that account. She only resolutely set herself +to cope with this one as best she might, erecting out of her multifarious +duties a barrier calculated to dishearten the most hopeful knight. + +But in thus constructing her defences there was one force with which she +omitted to reckon and against which she in consequence made no +preparation, a force which, nevertheless, was capable of shattering all +her carefully-laid schemes at a touch. + +As she emerged among the last of the congregation from the church on the +Sunday morning following her visit to Baronmead, she found Lucas Errol +leaning upon the open lych-gate. + +He greeted her with that shrewd, kindly smile of his before which it was +almost impossible to feel embarrassed or constrained. Yet she blushed +vividly at meeting him, and would gladly have turned the other way had +the opportunity offered. For there in the road below, doing something to +the motor, was Bertie. + +"It's a real pleasure to meet you again, Miss Waring," said Lucas, in his +pleasant drawl. "I was just hoping you would come along. I met your +father before the service, and he promised to show me his orchids." + +"Oh!" said Dot, nervously avoiding a second glance in Bertie's direction. +"Won't you come across to the Rectory then and wait for him there?" + +"May I?" said Lucas. + +He straightened himself with an effort and transferred his weight to his +crutch. Dot shyly proffered her arm. + +"Let me!" said Bertie. + +He was already on the steps, but Lucas waved him down, and accepted the +girl's help instead. + +"We will go in the garden way," said Dot. "It's only just across +the road." + +He halted terribly in the descent, and glancing at him in some anxiety +she saw that his lips were tightly closed. Overwhelming pity for the man +overcame her awkwardness, and she spoke sharply over her shoulder. + +"Bertie, come and take my place! You know what to do better than I do." + +In an instant Bertie was beside her, had slipped his arm under his +brother's shoulder, and taken his weight almost entirely off the crutch. +His active young strength bore the great burden unfalteringly and with +immense tenderness, and there ran through Dot, watching from above, a +queer little indefinable thrill that made her heart beat suddenly faster. +He certainly was a nice boy, as he himself had declared. + +"That didn't hurt so badly, eh, old chap?" asked the cheery voice. "Come +along, Dot. You can give him a hand now while I fetch the car round. +There are no steps to the Rectory, so he will be all right." + +His airy friendliness banished the last of Dot's confusion. With a keen +sense of relief she obeyed him. Those few seconds of a common solicitude +had bridged the gulf at least temporarily. + +"This is real good of you," Lucas Errol said, as he took her arm again. +"And it's a luxury I ought not to indulge in, for I can walk alone on +the flat." + +"Oh, it is horrid for you!" she said with vehemence. "How ever do +you bear it?" + +"We can all of us bear what we must," he said, smiling whimsically. + +"But we don't all of us do it well," said Dot, as she opened the +Rectory gate. + +"I guess that's a good deal a matter of temperament," said the +American. "A fellow like Nap, for instance, all hustle and quicksilver, +might be expected to kick now and then. One makes allowances for a +fellow like that." + +"I believe you make allowances for everyone," said Dot, impetuously. + +"Don't you?" he asked. + +"No, I am afraid I don't." + +There was a pause. The garden door was closed behind them. They +stood alone. + +Lucas Errol's eyes travelled over the stretch of lawn that lay between +them and the house, dwelt for a few thoughtful seconds upon nothing in +particular, and finally sought those of the girl at his side. + +"One must be fair, Miss Waring," he said gently. "I can't imagine you +being deliberately unfair to anyone." + +She flushed again. There was something in his manner that she could not +quite fathom, but it was something that she could not possibly resent. + +"Not deliberately--of course," she said after a moment, as he waited for +an answer. + +"Of course not," he agreed, in his courteous, rather tired voice. "If, +for instance, you were out with a friend and met a scorpion in a rage who +stung you both, you'd want to take it out of the scorpion, wouldn't you, +not the friend?" + +She hesitated, seeing in a flash the trend of the conversation, and +unwilling to commit herself too deeply. + +He read her reluctance at a glance. "Please don't be afraid of me," he +said, with that most winning smile of his. "I promise you on my honour +that whatever you say shall not be used against you." + +She smiled involuntarily. "I am not afraid of you, only--" + +"Only--" he said. + +"I think there are a good many scorpions about," she told him rather +piteously. "I could name several, all venomous." + +"I understand," said Lucas Errol. He passed his hand within her arm again +and pressed it gently. "And so you are flinging away all your valuables +to escape them?" he questioned. "Forgive me--is that wise?" + +She did not answer. + +He began to make his difficult progress towards the house. + +Suddenly, without looking at her he spoke again. "I believe you're a +woman of sense, Miss Waring, and you know as well as I do that there is a +price to pay for everything. And the biggest things command the highest +prices. If we haven't the means to pay for a big thing when it is +offered us, we must just let it go. But if we have--well, I guess we'd be +wise to sell out all the little things and secure it. Those same little +things are so almighty small in comparison." + +He ceased, but still Dot was silent. It was not the silence of +embarrassment, however. He had spoken too kindly for that. + +He did not look at her till they were close to the house, then for a few +moments she was aware of his steady eyes searching for the answer she +had withheld. + +"Say, Miss Waring," he said, "you are not vexed any?" + +She turned towards him instantly, her round face full of the most earnest +friendliness. "I--I think you're a brick, Mr. Errol," she said. + +He shook his head. "Nothing so useful, I am afraid, but I'm grateful to +you all the same for thinking so. Ah! Here comes your father." + +The rector was hastening after them across the grass. He joined them on +the path before the house and urged his visitor to come in and rest. The +orchids were in the conservatory. He believed he had one very rare +specimen. If Mr. Errol would sit down in the drawing-room he would bring +it for his inspection. + +And so it came to pass that when Bertie entered he found his brother deep +in a botanical discussion with the enthusiastic rector while Dot had +disappeared. Bertie only paused to ascertain this fact before he turned +round and went in quest of her. + +He knew his way about the lower regions of the Rectory, and he began a +systematic search forthwith. She was not, however, to be very readily +found. He glanced into all the downstairs rooms without success. He was, +in fact, on the point of regretfully abandoning his efforts on the +supposition that she had retreated to her own room when her voice rang +suddenly down the back stairs. She was calling agitatedly for help. + +It was enough for Bertie. He tore up the stairs with lightning speed, +boldly announcing his advent as he went. + +He found her at the top of the house in an old cupboard used for storing +fruit. She was mounted upon a crazy pair of steps that gave signs of +imminent collapse, and to save herself from the catastrophe that this +would involve she was clinging to the highest shelf with both hands. + +"Be quick!" she cried to him. "Be quick! I'm slipping every second!" + +The words were hardly uttered before the steps gave a sudden loud crack +and fell from beneath her with a crash. But in the same instant Bertie +sprang in and caught her firmly round the knees. He proceeded with much +presence of mind to seat her on his shoulder. + +"That's all right. I've got you," he said cheerily. "None the worse, eh? +What are you trying to do? May as well finish before you come down." + +Dot seemed for a moment inclined to resent the support thus jauntily +given, but against her will her sense of humour prevailed. + +She uttered a muffled laugh. "I'm getting apples for dessert." + +"All in your Sunday clothes!" commented Bertie. "That comes of +procrastination--the fatal British defect." + +"I hate people who hustle," remarked Dot, hoping that her hot cheeks were +not visible at that altitude. + +"Meaning me?" said Bertie, settling himself for an argument. + +"Oh, I suppose you can't help it," said Dot, filling her basket with +feverish speed. "You Americans are all much too greedy to wait for +anything. Am I very heavy?" + +"Not in the least," said Bertie. "I like being sat on now and then. I +admit the charge of greed but not of impatience. You misjudge me there." + +At this point a large apple dropped suddenly upon his upturned face +and, having struck him smartly between the eyes, fell with a thud to +the ground. + +Bertie said "Damn!" but luckily for Dot he did not budge an inch. + +"I beg your pardon," he added a moment later. + +"What for?" said Dot. + +"For swearing," he replied. "I forgot you didn't like it." + +"Oh!" said Dot; and after a pause, "Then I beg yours." + +"Did you do it on purpose?" he asked curiously. + +"I want to get down, please," said Dot. + +He lowered her from his shoulder to his arms with perfect ease, set her +on the ground, and held her fast. + +"Dot," he said, his voice sunk almost to a whisper, "if you're going to +be violent, I guess I shall be violent too." + +"Let me go!" said Dot. + +But still he held her. "Dot," he said again. "I won't hustle you any. I +swear I won't hustle you. But--my dear, you'll marry me some day. +Isn't that so?" + +Dot was silent. She was straining against his arms, and yet he held her, +not fiercely, not passionately, but with a mastery the greater for its +very coolness. + +"I'll wait for you," he said. "I'll wait three years. I shall be +twenty-five then, and you'll be twenty-one. But you'll marry me then, +Dot. You'll have to marry me then." + +"Have to!" flashed Dot. + +"Yes, have to," he repeated coolly. "You are mine." + +"I'm not, Bertie!" she declared indignantly. "How--how dare you hold me +against my will? And you're upsetting the apples too. Bertie, +you--you're a horrid cad!" + +"Yes, I know," said Bertie, an odd note of soothing in his voice. "That's +what you English people always do when you're beaten. You hurl insults, +and go on fighting. But it's nothing but a waste of energy, and only +makes the whipping the more thorough." + +"You hateful American!" gasped Dot. "As if--as if--we could be beaten!" + +She had struggled vainly for some seconds and was breathless. She turned +suddenly in his arms and placed her hands against his shoulders, forcing +him from her. Bertie instantly changed his position, seized her wrists, +drew them outward, drew them upward, drew them behind his neck. + +"And yet you love me," he said. "You love yourself better, but--you +love me." + +His face was bent to hers, he looked closely into her eyes. And--perhaps +it was something in his look that moved her--perhaps it was only the +realisation of her own utter impotence--Dot suddenly hid her face upon +his shoulder and began to cry. + +His arms were about her in an instant. He held her against his heart. + +"My dear, my dear, have I been a brute to you? I only wanted to make you +understand. Say, Dot, don't cry, dear, don't cry!" + +"I--I'm not!" sobbed Dot. + +"Of course not," he agreed. "Anyone can see that. But +still--darling--don't!" + +Dot recovered herself with surprising rapidity. "Bertie, you--you're a +great big donkey!" She confronted him with wet, accusing eyes. "What you +said just now wasn't true, and if--if you're a gentleman you'll +apologise." + +"I'll let you kick me all the way downstairs if you like," said +Bertie contritely. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I didn't mean +to make you--" + +"You didn't!" broke in Dot. "But you didn't tell the truth. That's why +I'm angry with you. You--told--a lie." + +"I?" said Bertie. + +He had taken his arms quite away from her now. He seemed in fact a little +afraid of touching her. But Dot showed no disposition to beat a retreat. +They faced each other in the old apple cupboard, as if it were the most +appropriate place in the world for a conflict. + +"Yes, you!" said Dot. + +"What did I say?" asked Bertie, hastily casting back his thoughts. + +She looked at him with eyes that seemed to grow more contemptuously +bright every instant. "You said," she spoke with immense deliberation, +"that I loved myself best." + +"Well?" said Bertie. + +"Well," she said, and took up her basket as one on the point of +departure, "it wasn't true. There!" + +"Dot!" His hand was on the basket too. He stopped her without touching +her. "Dot!" he said again. + +Dot's eyes began to soften, a dimple showed suddenly near the corner of +her mouth. "You shouldn't tell lies, Bertie," she said. + +And that was the last remark she made for several seconds, unless the +smothered protests that rose against Bertie's lips could be described as +such. They were certainly not emphatic enough to make any impression, and +Bertie treated them with the indifference they deserved. + +Driving home, he managed to steer with one hand while he thrust the other +upon his brother's knee. + +"Luke, old chap, I've gone dead against your wishes," he jerked out. +"And--for the first time in my life--I'm not sorry. She'll have me." + +"I thought she would," said Lucas. He grasped the boy's hand closely. +"There are times when a man--if he is a man--must act for himself, +eh, Bertie?" + +Bertie laughed a little. "I don't believe it was against your wishes +after all." + +"Well, p'r'aps not." There was a very kindly smile in the sunken eyes. "I +guess you're a little older than I thought you were, and anyway, she +won't marry you for the dollars." + +"She certainly won't," said Bertie warmly. "But she's horribly afraid of +people saying so, since Nap--" + +"Ah! Never mind Nap!" + +"Well, it's made a difference," Bertie protested. "We are not going to +marry for three years. And no one is to know we are engaged except you +and her father." + +"She doesn't mind me then?" + +There was just a tinge of humour in the words, and Bertie looked at +him sharply. + +"What are you grinning at? No, of course she doesn't mind you. But what's +the joke?" + +"Look where you're going, dear fellow. It would be a real pity to break +your neck at this stage." + +Bertie turned his attention to his driving and was silent for a little. + +Suddenly, "I have it!" he exclaimed. "You artful old fox! I believe you +had first word after all. I wondered that she gave in so easily. What did +you say to her?" + +"That," said Lucas gently, "is a matter entirely between myself and +one other." + +Bertie broke into his gay boyish laugh and sounded the hooter for sheer +lightness of heart. + +"Oh, king, live for ever--and then some! You're just the finest fellow in +the world!" + +"Open to question, I am afraid," said the millionaire with his quiet +smile. "And as to living for ever--well, I guess it's a cute idea in the +main, but under present conditions it's a notion that makes me tired." + +"Who said anything about present conditions?" demanded Bertie, almost +angrily; and then in an altered voice: "Old man, I didn't mean that, and +you know it. I only meant that you will always be wanted wherever you +are. God doesn't turn out a good thing like you every day." + +"Oh, shucks!" said Lucas Errol softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CHAMPION + + +When Mrs. Errol remarked in her deep voice, that yet compassed the +incomparable Yankee twang, that she guessed she wasn't afraid of any man +that breathed, none of those who heard the bold assertion ventured to +contradict her. + +Lucas Errol was entertaining a large house-party, and the great hall +was full of guests, most of whom had just returned from the day's +sport. The hubbub of voices was considerable, but Mrs. Errol's remark +was too weighty to be missed, and nearly everyone left off talking to +hear its sequel. + +Mrs. Errol, who was the soul of hospitality, but who, nevertheless, +believed firmly in leaving people to amuse themselves in their own way, +had only returned a few minutes before from paying a round of calls. She +was wrapped in furs from head to foot, and her large, kindly face shone +out of them like a November sun emerging from a mass of cloud. + +There was a general scramble to wait upon her, and three cups of tea were +offered her simultaneously, all of which she accepted with a nod of +thanks and a gurgle of laughter. + +"Put it down! I'll drink it presently. Where do you think I've just come +from? And what do you think I've been doing? I'll wager my last dollar no +one can guess." + +"Done!" said Nap coolly, as he pulled forward a chair to the blaze. +"You've been bearding the lion in his den, and not unsuccessfully, to +judge by appearances. In other words, you've been to the Manor and have +drunk tea with the lord thereof." + +Mrs. Errol subsided into the chair and looked round upon her interested +audience. "Well," she said, "you're right there, Nap Errol, but I +shan't part with my last dollar to you, so don't you worry any about +that. Yes, I've been to the Manor. I've had tea with Anne Carfax. And +I've talked to the squire as straight as a mother. He was pretty mad at +first, I can assure you, but I kept on hammering it into him till even +he began to get tired. And after that I made my points. Oh, I was +mighty kind on the whole. But I guess he isn't under any +misapprehension as to what I think of him. And I'm going over to-morrow +to fetch dear Anne over here to lunch." + +With which cheerful announcement Mrs. Errol took up one of her cups of +tea and drank it with a triumphant air. + +"I told him," she resumed, "he'd better watch his reputation, for he was +beginning to be regarded as the local Bluebeard. Oh, I was as frank as +George Washington. And I told him also that there isn't a man inside the +U.S.A. that would treat a black as he treats his wife. I think that +surprised him some, for he began to stutter, and then of course I had the +advantage. And I used it." + +"It must have been real edifying for Lady Carfax," drawled Nap. + +Mrs. Errol turned upon him. "I'm no bigger a fool than I look, Nap Errol. +Lady Carfax didn't hear a word. We had it out in the park. I left the +motor half way on purpose, and made his high mightiness walk down with +me. He was pretty near speechless by the time I'd done with him, but he +did just manage at parting to call me an impertinent old woman. And I +called him--a gentleman!" + +Mrs. Errol paused to swallow her second cup of tea. + +"I was wheezing myself by that time," she concluded. "But I'd had my say, +and I don't doubt that he is now giving the matter his full and careful +attention, which after all is the utmost I can expect. It may not do dear +Anne much good, but I guess it can't do her much harm anyway, and it was +beer and skittles to me. Why, it's five weeks now since she left, and +she's only been over once in all that time, and then I gather there was +such a row that she didn't feel like facing another till she was quite +strong again." + +"An infernal shame!" declared Bertie hotly. "I'll drive you over myself +to-morrow to fetch her. We'll get up some sports in her honour. I wonder +if she likes tobogganing." + +"I wonder if she will come," murmured Nap. + +Mrs. Errol turned to her third cup. "She'll come," she said with +finality; and no one raised any further question on that point. Mrs. +Errol in certain moods was known to be invincible. + +Though it was nearly the middle of March, the land was fast held in the +grip of winter. There had been a heavy fall of snow, and a continuous +frost succeeding it had turned Baronmead into an Alpine paradise. +Tobogganing and skating filled the hours of each day; dancing made fly +the hours of each night. Bertie had already conducted one ice gymkhana +with marked success, and he was now contemplating a masquerade on the +ornamental sheet of water that stretched before the house. Strings of +fairy lights were being arranged under his directions, and Chinese +lanterns bobbed in every bush. + +He was deeply engrossed in these preparations, but he tore himself away +to drive his mother to the Manor on the following morning. His alacrity +to do this was explained when he told her that he wanted to drop into the +Rectory and persuade the rector to bring Dot that night to see the fun, +to which plan Mrs. Errol accorded her ready approval, and even undertook +to help with the persuading, to Bertie's immense gratification. He and +his mother never talked confidences, but they understood each other so +thoroughly that words were superfluous. + +So they departed both in excellent spirits, while Lucas leaning upon +Nap's shoulder, went down to the lake to watch the skaters and to +superintend Bertie's preparations for the evening's entertainment. + +The voices of the tobogganists reached them from a steep bit of ground +half-a-mile away, ringing clearly on the frosty air. + +"The other side of that mound is tip-top for skiing," remarked Nap, +"better than you would expect in this country. But no one here seems +particularly keen on it. I was out early this morning and tried several +places that were quite passable, but that mound was the best!" + +"After dancing till three," commented Lucas. "What a restless +fellow you are!" + +Nap laughed a somewhat hard laugh. "One must do something. I never sleep +after dawn. It's not my nature." + +"You'll wear yourself to a shadow," smiled Lucas. "There's little enough +of you as it is--nothing but fire and sinew!" + +"Oh, rats, my dear fellow! I'm as tough as leather. There would need to +be something very serious the matter for me to lie in bed after daylight. +Just look at that woman doing eights! It's a sight to make you shudder." + +"Whom do you mean? Mrs. Van Rhyl? I thought you were an admirer of hers." + +Nap made a grimace. "Where is your native shrewdness? And I never +admired her skating anyway. It's about on a par with Mrs. Damer's +dancing. In the name of charity, don't ask that woman to come and help us +dance again. I'm not equal to her. It's yoking an elephant to a zebra." + +"I thought you liked Mrs. Damer," said Lucas. + +Nap grimaced again. "She's all right in the hunting-field. Leave her in +her own sphere and I can appreciate her." + +"Do you think you are capable of appreciating any woman?" asked Lucas +unexpectedly. + +Nap threw him a single fiery glance that was like a sword-thrust. His +slight figure stiffened to arrogance. But his answer, when it came, +was peculiarly soft and deliberate--it was also absolutely and +imperiously final. + +"I guess so." + +Lucas said no more, but he did not look wholly satisfied. There were +times in his dealings with Nap when even his tolerance would carry him +no further. + +They spent a considerable time on the terrace in front of the house. It +was a sheltered spot, and the sunshine that day was generous. + +"This place is doing you good," Nap remarked presently. "You are +considerably stronger than you were." + +"I believe I am," Lucas answered. "I sleep better." + +He had just seated himself on a stone bench that overlooked the lake. +His eyes followed the darting figures of the skaters with a certain +intentness. + +Nap leaned upon the balustrade and watched him. "Why don't you see Capper +again?" he asked suddenly. + +The millionaire's gaze gradually lost its intentness and grew remote. "I +am afraid he is on the wrong side of the Atlantic," he said. + +"You can cable to him." + +"Yes, I know." Slowly Lucas raised his eyes to his brother's face. "I can +have him over to tell me what he told me before--that I haven't the +recuperative strength essential to make his double operation a success." + +"He may tell you something different this time." Nap spoke insistently, +with the energy of one not accustomed to accept defeat. + +Lucas was silent. + +"Say, Lucas"--there was more than insistence in his tone this time; it +held compulsion--"you aren't faint-hearted?" + +The blue eyes began to smile. "I think not, Boney. But I've got to hang +on for the present--till you and the boy are married. P'r'aps then--I'll +take the risk." + +Nap looked supercilious. "And if it is not my intention to marry?" + +"You must marry, my dear fellow. You'll never be satisfied otherwise." + +"You think marriage the hall-mark of respectability?" Nap sneered openly. + +"I think," Lucas answered quietly, "that for you marriage is the +only end. The love of a good woman would be your salvation. Yes, you +may scoff. But--whether you admit it or not--it is the truth. And +you know it." + +But Nap had ceased already to scoff; the sneer had gone from his face. He +had turned his head keenly as one who listens. + +It was nearly a minute later that he spoke, and by that time the humming +of an approaching motor was clearly audible. + +Then, "It may be the truth," he said, in a tone as deliberate as his +brother's, "and it may not. But--no good woman will ever marry me, Luke. +And I shall never marry--anything else." + +He stooped, offering his shoulder for support. "Another guest, I fancy. +Shall we go?" + +He added, as they stood a moment before turning, "And if you won't send +for Capper--I shall." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE MASQUERADE + + +The brothers were standing together on the steps when Anne alighted from +the car, and her first thought as she moved towards them was of their +utter dissimilarity. They might have been men of different nationalities, +so essentially unlike each other were they in every detail. And yet she +felt for both that ready friendship that springs from warmest gratitude. + +Nap kept her hand a moment in his grasp while he looked at her with that +bold stare of his that she had never yet desired to avoid. On the +occasion of her last visit to Baronmead they had not met. She wondered if +he were about to upbraid her for neglecting her friends, but he said +nothing whatever, leaving it to Lucas to inquire after her health while +he stood by and watched her with those dusky, intent eyes of his that +seemed to miss nothing. + +"I am quite strong again, thank you," she said in answer to her host's +kindly questioning. "And you, Mr. Errol?" + +"I am getting strong too," he smiled. "I am almost equal to running +alone; but doubtless you are past that stage. Slow and sure has been my +motto for some years now." + +"It is a very good one," said Anne, in that gentle voice of hers that was +like the voice of a girl. + +He heard the sympathy in it, and his eyes softened; but he passed the +matter by. + +"I hope you have come to stay. Has my mother managed to persuade you?" + +"She will spend to-night anyway," said Mrs. Errol. + +"And only to-night," said Anne, with quiet firmness. "You are all very +kind, but--" + +"We want you," interposed Lucas Errol. + +She smiled, a quick smile that seemed reminiscent of happier days. "Yes, +and thank you for it. But I must return in good time to-morrow. I told my +husband that I would do so. He is spending the night in town, but he will +be back to-morrow." + +Nap's teeth were visible, hard clenched upon his lower lip as he +listened, but still he said nothing. There was something peculiarly +forcible, even sinister, in his silence. Not until Anne presently turned +and directly addressed him did his attitude change. + +"Will you take me to see the lake?" she said. "It looked so charming as +we drove up." + +He moved instantly to accompany her. They went out together into the +hard brightness of the winter morning. + +"It is so good to be here," Anne said a little wistfully. "It is like a +day in paradise." + +He laughed at that, not very pleasantly. + +"It is indeed," she persisted, "except for one thing. Now tell me; in +what have I offended?" + +"You, Lady Carfax!" His brows met for an instant in a single, +savage line. + +"Is it only my fancy?" she said. "I have a feeling that all is not +peace." + +He stopped abruptly by the balustrade that bounded the terrace. "The +queen can do no wrong," he said. "She can hurt, but she cannot offend." + +"Then how have I hurt you, Nap?" she said. + +The quiet dignity of the question demanded an answer, but it was slow in +coming. He leaned his arms upon the balustrade, pulling restlessly at the +ivy that clung there. Anne waited quite motionless beside him. She was +not looking at the skaters; her eyes had gone beyond them. + +Abruptly at length Nap straightened himself. "I am a fool to take you to +task for snubbing me," he said. "But I am not accustomed to being +snubbed. Let that be my excuse." + +"Please tell me what you mean," said Anne. + +He looked at her. "Do you tell me you do not know?" + +"Yes," she said. Her clear eyes met his. "Why should I snub you? I +thought you were a friend." + +"A friend," he said, with emphasis. "I thought so too. But--" + +"Yes?" she said gently. + +"Isn't it customary with you to answer your friends when they write to +you?" he asked. + +Her expression changed. A look of sharp pain showed for an instant in her +eyes. "My invariable custom, Nap," she said very steadily. + +"Then--that letter of mine--" he paused. + +"When did you write it?" + +"On the evening of the day you came here last--the day I missed you." + +"It did not reach me," she said, her voice very low. + +He was watching her very intently. "I sent it by messenger," he said. "I +was hunting that day. I sat down and wrote the moment I heard you had +been. Tawny Hudson took it." + +"It did not reach me," she repeated. She was very pale; her eyes had +dropped from his. + +"I was going to allow you a month to answer that letter," he went on, as +though she had not spoken. "After that, our--friendship would have been +at an end. The month will be up to-morrow." + +Anne was silent. + +"Lady Carfax," he said, "will you swear to me that you never received +that letter?" + +"No," she said. + +"You will not?" + +"I will not." + +He made a sudden movement--such a movement as a man makes involuntarily +at an unexpected dart of pain. + +Anne raised her eyes very quietly. "Let us be quite honest," she said. +"No oath is ever necessary between friends." + +"You expect me to believe you?" he said, and his voice was shaken by some +emotion he scarcely tried to hide. + +She smiled very faintly. "You do believe me," she said. + +He turned sharply from her. "Let us go down," he said. + +They went down to the garden below the terrace, walking side by side, in +silence. They stood at the edge of the lake together, and presently they +talked--talked of a hundred things in which neither were greatly +interested. A few people drifted up and were introduced. Then Bertie came +running down, and their _tête-à -tête_ was finally at an end. + +They were far away from one another during luncheon, and when the meal +was over Nap disappeared. He never concerned himself greatly about his +brother's guests. + +At Bertie's persuasion Anne had brought skates, and she went down with +him to the lake in the afternoon, where they skated together till +sunset. She had a curious feeling that Nap was watching her the whole +time, though he was nowhere to be seen; nor did he appear at tea in the +great hall. + +Later Mrs. Errol took possession of her, and they sat together in the +former's sitting-room till it was time to dress for dinner. Anne had +brought no fancy dress, but her hostess was eager to provide for her. +She clothed her in a white domino and black velvet mask, and insisted +upon her wearing a splendid diamond tiara in the shape of a heart in her +soft hair. + +When she finally descended the stairs in Mrs. Errol's company, a slim man +dressed as a harlequin in black and silver, who was apparently waiting +for her halfway down, bowed low and presented a glorious spray of crimson +roses with the words: "For the queen who can do no wrong!" + +"My, Nap! How you startled me!" ejaculated Mrs. Errol. + +But Anne said nothing whatever. She only looked him straight in the eyes +for an instant, and passed on with the roses in her hand. + +During dinner she saw nothing of him. The great room was crowded with +little tables, each laid for two, and she sat at the last of all with her +host. Later she never remembered whether they talked or were silent. She +only knew that somewhere the eyes that had watched her all the afternoon +were watching her still, intent and tireless, biding their time. But +silence in Lucas Errol's company was as easy as speech. Moreover, a +string band played continuously throughout the meal, and the hubbub +around them made speech unnecessary. + +When they went out at last on to the terrace the whole garden was +transformed into a paradise of glowing colours. The lake shone like a +prism of glass, and over all the stars hung as if suspended very near +the earth. + +Lucas went down to the edge of the ice, leaning on his valet. Bertie, +clad as a Roman soldier, was already vanishing in the distance with +someone attired as a Swiss peasant girl. Mrs. Errol, sensibly wrapped +in a large motoring coat, was maintaining a cheery conversation with +the rector, who looked cold and hungry and smiled bluely at +everything she said. + +Anne stood by her host and watched the gay scene silently. "You ought to +be skating," he said presently. + +She shook her head. "Not yet. I like watching. It makes me think of when +I was a girl." + +"Not so very long ago, surely!" he said, with a smile. + +"Seven years," she answered. + +"My dear Lady Carfax!" + +"Yes, seven years," she repeated, and though she also smiled there was a +note of unspeakable dreariness in her voice. "I was married on my +eighteenth birthday." + +"My dear Lady Carfax," he said again. And with that silence fell once +more between them, but in some magic fashion his sympathy imparted itself +to her. She could feel it as one feels sudden sunshine on a cold day. It +warmed her to the heart. + +She moved at length, turning towards him, and at once he spoke, as if +she had thereby set him at liberty to do so. + +"Shall I tell you what I do when I find myself very badly up against +anything?" he said. + +"Yes, tell me." Instinctively she drew nearer to him. There was that +about this man that attracted her irresistibly. + +"It's a very simple remedy," he said, "simpler than praying. One can't +always pray. I just open the windows wide, Lady Carfax. It's a +help--even that." + +"Ah!" she said quickly. "I think your windows must be always open." + +"It seems a pity to shut them," he answered gently. "There is always a +sparrow to feed, anyway." + +She laughed rather sadly. "Yes, there are always sparrows." + +"And sometimes bigger things," he said, "things one wouldn't miss for +half creation." + +"Or lose again for the other half," said the cool voice of a skater who +had just glided up. + +Anne started a little, but Lucas scarcely moved. + +"Lady Carfax is waiting to go on the ice," he said. + +"And I am waiting to take her," the new-comer said. + +His slim, graceful figure in its black, tight-fitting garb sparkled at +every turn. His eyes shone through his velvet mask like the eyes of an +animal in the dark. + +He glided nearer, but for some reason inexplicable to herself, Anne +stepped back. + +"I don't think I will," she said. "I am quite happy where I am." + +"You will be happier with me," said the harlequin, with imperial +confidence. + +He waved his hand to Hudson standing a few paces away with her skates, +took them from him, motioned her to the bank. + +She stepped forward, not very willingly. Hudson, at another sign, spread +a rug for her. She sat down, and the glittering harlequin kneeled upon +the ice before her and fastened the blades to her feet. + +It only took a couple of minutes; he was deft in all his ways. And +then he was on his feet again, and with a royal gesture had helped +her to hers. + +Anne looked at him half dazzled. The shimmering figure seemed to be +decked in diamonds. + +"Are you ready?" he said. + +She looked into the glowing eyes and felt as if some magic attraction +were drawing her against her will. + +"So long!" called Lucas from the bank. "Take care of her, Boney." + +In another moment they were gliding into that prism of many lights and +colours, and the harlequin, holding Anne's hands, laughed enigmatically +as he sped her away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS + + +It seemed to Anne presently that she had left the earth altogether, and +was gliding upwards through starland without effort or conscious movement +of any sort, simply as though lifted by the hands that held her own. +Their vitality thrilled through her like a strong current of electricity. +She felt that whichever way they turned, wherever they led her, she must +be safe. And there was a quivering ecstasy in that dazzling, rapid rush +that filled her veins like liquid fire. + +"Do you know where you are?" he asked her once. + +And she answered, in a species of breathless rapture, "I feel as if I +were caught in a rainbow." + +He laughed again at that, a soft, exultant laugh, and drew her more +swiftly on. + +They left the other masqueraders behind; they left the shimmering +lake and its many lights; and at last in the starlight only they +slackened speed. + +Anne came out of her trance of delight to find that they were between the +banks of the stream that fed the lake. The ground on each side of them +shone white and hard in the frost-bound silence. The full moon was just +rising over a long silver ridge of down. She stood with her face to its +cold splendour, her hands still locked in that vital grip. + +Slowly at last, compelled she knew not how, she turned to the man beside +her. His eyes were blazing at her with a lurid fire, and suddenly that +sensation that had troubled her once before in his presence--a sensation +of sharp uneasiness--pricked through her confidence. + +She stood quite still, conscious of a sudden quickening of her heart. But +she did not shrink from that burning gaze. She met it with level eyes. + +For seconds they stood so, facing one another. He seemed to be trying in +some fashion to subjugate her, to beat her down; but she would not yield +an inch. And it was he who finally broke the spell. + +"Am I forgiven?" + +"For what?" she said. + +"For pretending to disbelieve you this morning." + +"Was it pretence?" she asked. + +"No, it wasn't!" he told her fiercely. "It was deadly earnest. I would +have given all I had to be able to disbelieve you. Do you know that?" + +"But why, Nap?" + +"Why?" he said. "Because your goodness, your purity, are making a slave +of me. If I could catch you--if I could catch you only once--cheating, as +all other women cheat, I should be free. But you are irreproachable and +incorruptible. I believe you are above temptation." + +"Oh, you don't know me," she interposed quietly. "But even if I were all +these things, why should it vex you?" + +"Why?" he said. "Because you hold me back, you check me at every turn. +You harness me to your chariot wheels, and I have to run in the path of +virtue whether I will or not!" + +He broke off with a laugh that had in it a note of savagery. + +"Don't you even care to know what was in that letter that you never had?" +he asked abruptly. + +"Tell me!" she said. + +"I told you that I was mad to have missed you that day. I begged you to +let me have a line before you came again. I besought you to let me call +upon you and to fix a day. I signed myself your humble and devoted slave, +Napoleon Errol." + +He ceased, still laughing queerly, with his lower lip between his teeth. + +Anne stood silent for many seconds. + +At last, "You must never come to see me," she said very decidedly. + +"Not if I bring the mother as a chaperon?" he jested. + +"Neither you nor your mother must ever come to see me again," she +said firmly. "And--Nap--though I know that the writing of that +letter meant nothing whatever to you, I am more sorry than I can say +that you sent it." + +He threw back his head arrogantly. "What?" he said. "Has the queen no +further use for her jester? Am I not even to write to you then?" + +"I think not," she said. + +"And why?" he demanded imperiously. + +"I think you know why," she said. + +"Do I know why? Is it because you are afraid of your husband?" + +"No." + +"Afraid of me then?" There was almost a taunt in the words. + +"No," she said again. + +"Why, then?" He was looking full into her eyes. There was something +peculiarly sinister about his masked face. She almost felt as if he were +menacing her. + +Nevertheless she made unfaltering reply. "For a reason that means much +to me, though it may not appeal to you. Because my husband is not +always sane, and I am afraid of what he might do to you if he were +provoked any further." + +"Great Lucifer!" said Nap. "Does he think I make love to you then?" + +She did not answer him. "He is not always sane," she repeated. + +"You are right," he said. "That reason does not appeal to me. Your +husband's hallucinations are not worth considering. But I don't propose +on that account to write any more letters for his edification. For the +future--" He paused. + +"For the future," Anne said, "there must be no correspondence between us +at all. I know it seems unreasonable to you, but that cannot be helped. +Mr. Errol, surely you are generous enough--chivalrous enough--to +understand." + +"No, I don't understand," Nap said. "I don't understand how you can, by +the widest stretch of the imagination, believe it your duty to conform to +the caprices of a maniac." + +"How can I help it?" she said very sadly. + +He was silent a moment. His hands were still gripping hers; she +could feel her wedding-ring being forced into her flesh. "Like our +mutual friend, Major Shirley," he said slowly, "I wonder why you +stick to the man." + +She turned her face away with a sound that was almost a moan. + +"You never loved him," he said with conviction. + +She was silent. Yet after a little, as he waited, she spoke as one +compelled. + +"I live with him because he gave me that for which I married him. He +fulfilled his part of the bargain. I must fulfil mine. I was nothing but +his bailiff's daughter, remember; a bailiff who had robbed him--for whose +escape from penal servitude I paid the price." + +"Great Heavens!" said Nap. + +She turned to him quickly, with an impulsiveness that was almost girlish. +"I have never told anyone else," she said. "I tell you because I know +you are my friend and because I want you to understand. We will +never--please--speak of it again." + +"Wait!" Nap's voice rang stern. "Was it part of the bargain that he +should insult you, trample on you, make you lead a dog's life without a +single friend to make it bearable?" + +She did not attempt to answer him. "Let us go back," she said. + +He wheeled at once, still holding her hands. + +They skated a few yards in silence. Then suddenly, almost under his +breath, he spoke. "I am not going to give up my friendship with you. Let +that be clearly understood." + +"You are very good to me," she said simply. + +"No. I am not. I am human, that's all. I don't think this state of +affairs can last much longer." + +She shuddered. Her husband's condition had been very much worse of late, +but she did not tell him so. + +They were skating rapidly back towards the head of the lake. In front of +them sounded the swirling rush of skates and the laughter of many voices. + +"I'm sorry I've been a beast to you," Nap said abruptly. "You mustn't +mind me. It's just my way." + +"Oh, I don't mind you, Nap," she answered gently. + +"Thanks!" he said. + +And with that he stooped suddenly and shot forward like a meteor, bearing +her with him. + +They flashed back into the gay throng of masqueraders, and mingled with +the crowd as though they had never left it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE DESCENT FROM OLYMPUS + + +"Come and say good-bye to Lucas," said Bertie. "He is up and +asking for you." + +So, with an impetuous hand upon Anne's arm, he whisked her away on the +following morning to his brother's room. She was dressed for departure, +and waiting for the motor that was to take her home. Of Nap she had seen +nothing. He had a way of absenting himself from meals whenever it suited +him to do so. She wondered if he meant to let her go without farewell. + +She found the master of the house lying on a couch sorting his +correspondence. He pushed everything aside at her entrance. + +"Come in, Lady Carfax! I am glad not to have missed you. A pity you have +to leave so soon." + +"I only wish I could stop longer," Anne said. He looked up at her, +holding her hand, his shrewd blue eyes full of the most candid +friendliness. + +"You will come again, I hope, when you can," he said. + +"Thank you," she answered gently. + +He still held her hand. "And if at any time you need the help--or +comfort--of friends," he said, "you won't forget where to look?" + +"Thank you," she said again. + +"Is Nap driving you?" he asked. + +"No," said Bertie. "Nap's skiing." + +"Then you, Bertie--" + +"My dear fellow," said Bertie, "I'm fearfully sorry, but I can't. You +understand, don't you, Lady Carfax? I would if I could, but--" his +excuses trailed off unsatisfactorily. + +He turned very red and furiously jabbed at the fire with his boot. + +"Please don't think of it," said Anne. "I am so used to being alone. In +fact, your mother wanted to come with me, but I dissuaded her." + +"Then I conclude it is useless for me to offer myself as an escort?" +said Lucas. + +"Yes, quite useless," she smiled, "though I am grateful to you all the +same. Good-bye, Mr. Errol!" + +"Good-bye!" he said. + +As Bertie closed the door behind her he took up a letter from the heap at +his elbow; but his eyes remained fixed for several seconds. + +At length: "Bertie," he said, without looking up, "are you due at the +Rectory this morning?" + +"This afternoon," said Bertie. + +He also bent over the pile of correspondence and began to sort. He often +did secretarial work for Lucas. + +Lucas suffered him for some seconds longer. Then, "You don't generally +behave like a boor, Bertie," he said. + +"Oh, confound it!" exclaimed Bertie, with vehemence. "You don't suppose I +enjoyed letting her think me a cad, do you?" + +"I don't suppose she did," Lucas said thoughtfully. + +"Well, you do anyway, which is worse." + +Bertie slapped down the letters and walked to the fire. + +Lucas returned without comment to the paper in his hand. + +After a long pause Bertie wheeled. He came back to his brother's side and +pulled up a chair. His brown face was set in stern lines. + +"I don't see why I should put up with this," he said, "and I don't +mean to. It was Nap's doing. I was going to drive her. He +interfered--as usual." + +"I thought you said Nap was skiing." Lucas spoke without raising his +eyes. He also looked graver than usual. + +"I did. He is. But he has got some game on, and he didn't want me +looking on. Oh, I'm sick to death of Nap and all his ways! He's rotten +to the core!" + +"Gently, boy, gently! You go too far." Lucas looked up into the hot blue +eyes, the severity all gone from his own. "It isn't what things look like +that you have to consider. It is what they are. Nap, poor chap, is badly +handicapped; but he has been putting up a big fight for himself lately, +and he hasn't done so badly. Give the devil his due." + +"What's he doing now?" demanded Bertie. "It's bad enough to have the +whole community gossiping about his flirtations with women that don't +count. But when it comes to a good woman--like Lady Carfax--oh, I tell +you it makes me sick! He might leave her alone, at least. She's miserable +enough without him to make matters worse." + +"My dear boy, you needn't be afraid for Lady Carfax." Lucas Errol's voice +held absolute conviction. "She wouldn't tolerate him for an instant if he +attempted to flirt with her. Their intimacy is founded on something more +solid than that. It's a genuine friendship or I have never seen one." + +"Do you mean to say you don't know he is in love with her?" +ejaculated Bertie. + +"But he won't make love to her," Lucas answered quietly. "He is drawn by +a good woman for the first time in his life, and no harm will come of it. +She is one of those women who must run a straight course. There are a few +such, born saints, 'of whom the world is not worthy.'" He checked himself +with a sudden sigh. "Suppose we get to business, Bertie." + +"It's all very fine," said Bertie, preparing to comply. "But if Nap ever +falls foul of Sir Giles Carfax, he may find that he has bitten off more +than he can chew. They say he is on the high road to the D.T.'s. Small +wonder that Lady Carfax looks careworn!" + +Small wonder indeed! Yet as Anne sped along through the sunshine on that +winter day she found leisure from her cares to enjoy the swift journey in +the great luxurious car. The burden she carried perpetually weighed less +heavily upon her than usual. The genial atmosphere of Baronmead had +warmed her heart. The few words that Lucas had spoken with her hand in +his still echoed through her memory. Yes, she knew where to look for +friends; no carping critics, but genuine, kindly friends who knew and +sympathised. + +She thought of Nap with regret and a tinge of anxiety. She was sure he +had not intended to let her go without farewell, but she hoped earnestly +that he would not pursue her to the Manor to tell her so. + +And then she remembered his letter; that letter that her husband must +have intercepted, recalling his storm of unreasonable fury on the +occasion of her last return from Baronmead. He had doubtless read that +letter and been inflamed by it. Hating her himself, he yet was fiercely +jealous of her friends--these new friends of hers who had lavished upon +her every kindness in her time of need, to whom she must always feel +warmly grateful, however churlishly he might ignore the obligation. + +He had raised no definite objection to this present visit of hers. Mrs. +Errol had, in her own inimitable fashion, silenced him, but she had known +that she had gone against his wish. And it was in consequence of this +knowledge that she was returning so early, though she did not expect him +back till night. He should have no rational cause for complaint against +her. For such causes as his fevered brain created she could not hold +herself responsible. + +It was hard to lead such a life without becoming morbid, but Anne was +fashioned upon generous lines. She strove ever to maintain the calm level +of reason wherewith to temper the baleful influence of her husband's +caprice. She never argued with him; argument was worse than futile. But +steadfastly and incessantly she sought by her moderation to balance the +difficulties with which she was continually confronted. And to a certain +extent she succeeded. Open struggles were very rare. Sir Giles knew that +there was a limit to her submission, and he seldom, if ever now, +attempted to force her beyond that limit. + +But she knew that a visit from Nap would place her in an intolerable +position, and with all her heart she hoped that her caution of the +previous day had taken effect. Though utterly reckless on his own +account, she fancied that she had made an impression upon him, and that +he would not act wholly without consideration for her. In bestowing her +friendship upon him she had therewith reposed a confidence which his +invariable compliance with her wishes had seemed to warrant. She did not +think that her trust would ever prove to have been misplaced. But she was +sorry, unquestionably she was sorry, to have left without bidding him +farewell. It might be long ere they would meet again. + +And with the thought yet in her mind she looked out of the window in +front of her, and saw his slim, supple figure, clad in a white sweater, +shoot swiftly down a snow-draped slope ahead of her, like a meteor +flashing earthwards out of the blue. + +His arms were extended; his movements had a lithe grace that was +irresistibly fascinating to the eye. Slight though he was, he might have +been a young god descending on a shaft of sunshine from Olympus. But the +thought that darted all unbidden through Anne's mind was of something far +different. She banished it on the instant with startled precipitancy; but +it left a scar behind that burned like the sudden searing of a hot iron. +"I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven." + +The car was stopping. The figure on skis was waiting motionless by the +roadside. It ran smoothly up to him and stopped. + +"Dramatic, wasn't it?" smiled Nap. "Did you think you were going to +escape without another word?" + +"I had almost begun to think so," she admitted, smiling also. + +He stooped to take off the skis, then stepped to the door. He leaned +towards her. There was no faintest sign of cynicism in his face that day. +He was in the mood of good comradeship in which she liked him best. + +"Walk across to the park with me," he said. "It is scarcely a mile by the +downs. The man can go on to the Manor with your things and wait here for +me on his way back." + +Anne considered for a moment, but only for a moment. It might make her +late for the luncheon hour, but she was convinced that her husband would +not return before the evening. And the world was very enchanting that +winter day. The very ground was scattered with diamonds! + +"Yes, I will come," she said. + +He handed her out, and picked up his discarded skis. His dark face smiled +with a certain triumph. The grim lines about his mouth were less apparent +than usual. He moved with the elastic swing of well-knit limbs. + +And Anne, walking beside him, found it not difficult to thrust her cares +a little farther into the sombre background of her mind. The sun shone +and the sky was blue, and the ground was strewn with glittering diamonds. +She went over the hill with him, feeling that she had snatched one more +hour in paradise. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +VENGEANCE + + +By what magic he cajoled her into trying her skill upon skis Anne never +afterwards remembered. It seemed to her later that the exhilarating +atmosphere of that cloudless winter day must in some magic fashion have +revived in her the youth which had been crushed out of existence so long +ago. A strange, irresponsible happiness possessed her, so new, so subtly +sweet, that the heavy burden she had borne for so long seemed almost to +have shrunk into insignificance. It permeated her whole being like an +overpowering essence, so that she forgot the seven dreary years that +separated her from her girlhood, forgot the bondage to which she was +returning, the constant, ever-increasing anxiety that wrought so +mercilessly upon her; and remembered only the splendour of the sunshine +that sparkled on the snow, and the ecstasy of the keen clear air she +breathed. It was like an enchanting dream to her, a dream through which +she lived with all the greater zest because it so soon must pass. + +All the pent energies of her vanished youth were in the dream. She could +not--for that once she could not--deny them vent. + +And Nap, strung to a species of fierce gaiety that she had never seen in +him before, urged her perpetually on. He would not let her pause to +think, but yet he considered her at every turn. He scoffed like a boy at +her efforts to ski, but he held her up strongly while he scoffed, taking +care of her with that adroitness that marked everything he did. And while +they thus dallied the time passed swiftly, more swiftly than either +realised. The sun began to draw to the south-west. The diamonds ceased to +sparkle save here and there obliquely. The haze of a winter afternoon +settled upon the downs. + +Suddenly Anne noticed these things, suddenly the weight of care which had +so wonderfully been lifted from her returned, suddenly the shining +garment of her youth slipped from her, and left her like Cinderella when +the spell of her enchantment was broken. + +"Nap!" she exclaimed. "I must go! I must have been dreaming to forget +the time!" + +"Time!" laughed Nap. "What is time?" + +"It is something that I have to remember," she said. "Why, it must be +nearly two o'clock!" + +Nap glanced at the sun and made no comment. Anne felt for and consulted +her watch. It was already three. + +She looked up in amazement and dismay. "I must go at once!" + +"Don't!" said Nap. "I am sure your watch is wrong." + +"I must go at once," she repeated firmly. "It is long past the luncheon +hour. I had no idea we had been here so long. You must go too. Your +chauffeur will think you are never coming." + +The skis were still on her feet. Nap looked at her speculatively. + +"This is rather an abrupt end," he said. "Won't you have one more go? A +few minutes more or less can't make any difference now." + +"They may make all the difference," Anne said. "Really, I ought not." + +They stood on a gentle slope that led downwards to the path she +must take. + +"Just ski down into the valley from here then," urged Nap. "It's quicker +than walking. I won't hold you this time. You won't fall." + +The suggestion was reasonable, and the fascination of the sport had taken +firm hold of her. Anne smiled and yielded. She set her feet together and +let herself go. + +Almost at the same instant a sound that was like the bellow of an +infuriated bull reached her from above. + +She tried to turn, but the skis were already slipping over the snow. To +preserve her balance she was forced to go, and for seconds that seemed +like hours she slid down the hillside, her heart thumping in her throat; +her nerves straining and twitching to check that maddening progress. For +she knew that sound. She had heard it before, had shrunk secretly many a +time before its coarse brutality. It was the yell of a man in headlong, +furious wrath, an animal yell, unreasoning, hideously bestial; and she +feared, feared horribly, what that yell might portend. + +She reached the valley, and managed to swerve round without falling. But +for an instant she could not, she dared not, raise her eyes. Clear on the +frosty air came sounds that made her blood turn cold. She felt as if her +heart would suffocate her. A brief blindness blotted out all things. + +Then with an agonised effort she forced back her weakness, she forced +herself to look. Yes, the thing she had feared so horribly was being +enacted like a ghastly nightmare above her. + +There on the slope was her husband, a gigantic figure outlined against +the snow. He had not stopped to parley. Those mad fits of passion always +deprived him, at the outset, of the few reasoning powers that yet +remained to him. Without question or explanation of any kind he had flung +himself upon the man he deemed his enemy, and Anne now beheld him, +gripping him by the neck as a terrier grips a rat, and flogging him with +the loaded crop he always carried to the hunt. + +Nap was writhing to and fro like an eel, striving, she saw, to overthrow +his adversary. But the gigantic strength of madness was too great for +his lithe activity. By sheer weight he was borne down. + +With an anguished cry Anne started to intervene. But two steps with the +skis flung her headlong upon the snow, and while she grovelled there, +struggling vainly to rise, she heard the awful blows above her like +pistol-shots through the stillness. Once she heard a curse, and once a +demonical laugh, and once, thrilling her through and through, spurring +her to wilder efforts, a dreadful sound that was like the cry of a +stricken animal. + +She gained her feet at last, and again started on her upward way. Nap had +been forced to his knees, but he was still fighting fiercely, as a rat +will fight to the last. She cried to him wildly that she was coming, was +coming, made three paces, only to trip and fall again. + +Then she knew that, so handicapped, she could never reach them, and with +shaking, fumbling fingers she set herself to unfasten the straps that +bound the skis. It took her a long, long time--all the longer for her +fevered haste. And still that awful, flail-like sound went on and on, +though all sound of voices had wholly ceased. + +Free at last, she stumbled to her feet, and tore madly up the hill. She +saw as she went that Nap was not struggling any longer. He was hanging +like a wet rag from the merciless grip that upheld him, and though his +limp body seemed to shudder at every crashing blow, he made no voluntary +movement of any sort. + +As she drew near, her husband suddenly swung round as though aware of +her, and dropped him. He fell in a huddled heap upon the snow, and lay, +twisted, motionless as a dead thing. + +Sir Giles, his eyes suffused and terrible, turned upon his wife. + +"There lies your gallant lover!" he snarled at her. "I think I've cured +him of his fancy for you." + +Her eyes met his. For a single instant, hatred, unveiled, passionate, +shone out at him like sudden, darting lightning. For a single instant she +dared him with the courage born of hatred. It was a challenge so distinct +and personal, so fierce, that he, satiated for the moment with revenge, +drew back instinctively before it, as an animal shrinks from the flame. + +She uttered not a word. She did not after that one scorching glance deign +to do battle with him. Without a gesture she dismissed him, kneeling +beside his vanquished foe as though he were already gone. + +And--perhaps it was the utter intrepidity of her bearing that deprived +him of the power to carry his brutality any further just then--perhaps +the ferocity that he had never before encountered in those grey eyes +cowed him somewhat in spite of the madness that still sang in his +veins--whatever the motive power it was too potent to resist--Sir Giles +turned and tramped heavily away. + +Anne did not watch him go. It was nothing to her at the moment whether he +went or stayed. She knelt beside the huddled, unconscious figure and +tried to straighten the crumpled limbs. The sweater had been literally +torn from his back, and the shirt beneath it was in blood-stained +tatters. His face was covered with blood. Sir Giles had not been +particular as to where the whip had fallen. Great purple welts crossed +and re-crossed each other on the livid features. The bleeding lips were +drawn back in a devilish grimace. He looked as though he had been +terribly mauled by some animal. + +Anne gripped a handful of snow, hardly knowing what she did, and tried to +stanch the blood that ran from an open cut on his temple. She was not +trembling any longer. The emergency had steadied her. But the agony of +those moments was worse than any she had ever known. + +Minutes passed. She was beginning to despair. An icy dread was at her +heart. He lay so lifeless, so terribly inert. She had attempted to lift +him, but the dead weight was too much for her. She could only rest his +head against her, and wipe away the blood that trickled persistently from +that dreadful, sneering mouth. Would he ever speak again, she asked +herself? Were the fiery eyes fast shut for ever? Was he dead--he whose +vitality had always held her like a charm? Had her friendship done this +for him, that friendship he had valued so highly? + +She stooped lower over him. The anguish of the thought was more than she +could bear. + +"O God," she prayed suddenly and passionately, "don't let him die! Don't +let him die!" + +And in that moment Nap's eyes opened wide and fixed themselves upon her. + +He did not attempt to move or speak, but the snarling look went wholly +out of his face. The thin lips met and closed over the battered mouth. He +lay regarding her intently, as if he were examining some curious thing he +had never seen before. + +And before that gaze Anne's eyes wavered and sank. She felt she could +never meet his look again. + +"Are you better?" she whispered. "Can I--will you let me--help you?" + +"No," he said. "Just--leave me!" He spoke quite quietly, but the very +sound of his voice sent a perfect storm of emotion through her. + +"I can't!" she said almost fiercely. "I won't! Let me help you! Let me do +what I can!" + +He stirred a little, and his brow contracted, but he never took his eyes +from her face. + +"Don't be--upset," he said with an effort. "I'm not going--to die!" + +"Tell me what to do," she urged piteously. "Can I lift you a +little higher?" + +"For Heaven's sake--no!" he said, and swallowed a shudder. "My +collar-bone's broken." + +He was silent for a space, but still his dusky eyes watched her +perpetually. + +At last, "Let me hold your hand," he said. + +She put it into his, and he held it tightly. The blood was running down +his face again, and she wiped it softly away. + +"Thank you," he said. + +Those two words, spoken almost under his breath, had a curious effect +upon her. She felt as if something had suddenly entered and pierced her +heart. Before she knew it, a sharp sob escaped her, and then all in a +moment she broke down. + +"Oh, Nap, Nap," she sobbed, "I wish I had died before this could happen!" + +She felt his hand tighten as she crouched there beside him in her +anguish, and presently she knew that he had somehow managed to raise +himself to a sitting posture. + +Through her agony his voice came to her. It was pitched very low, yet +she heard it. + +"Don't cry--for pity's sake! I shall get over it. I shall live--to get +back--my own." + +Torn by emotion as she was, something in the last words, spoken in that +curious undertone, struck her with a subtle force. With a desperate +effort she controlled herself. She knew that he was still watching her +with that strange intensity that she could not bring herself to meet. His +right hand still held hers with quivering tenacity; the other trailed +uselessly on the snow. + +"Let me help you," she urged again. + +He was silent; she feared he was going to refuse. And then she saw that +his head had begun to droop forward, and realised that he was on the +verge of another collapse. Instinctively she slipped her arm about his +shoulders, supporting him. He was shuddering all over. She drew his head +to rest against her. + +A long time passed thus, she kneeling motionless, holding him, while he +panted against her breast, struggling with dogged persistence to master +the weakness that threatened to overpower him. It was terrible to see him +so, he the arrogant, the fierce, the overbearing, thus humbled to the +earth before her. She felt the agony of his crushed pride, and yearned +with an intensity that was passionate to alleviate it. But there seemed +nothing for her to do. She could only kneel and look on in bitter +impotence while he fought his battle. + +In the end he lifted his face. "It's the collarbone that hurts so +infernally. Could you push something under my left arm to hold it up? +Your muff would do. Mind my wrist--that's broken too. Ah!" She heard the +breath whistle sharply between his lips as with the utmost care she +complied with these instructions, but almost instantly he went on: "Don't +be afraid of touching me--unless I'm too monstrous to touch. But I don't +believe I can walk." + +"I will help you," she said. "I am very strong." + +"You are--wonderful," he said. + +And the words comforted her subtly though she did not know exactly what +he meant by them. + +Thereafter they scarcely spoke at all. By slow degrees he recovered his +self-command, though she knew with only too keen a perception how +intolerable was the pain that racked his whole body. With her assistance +and with strenuous effort he managed at last to get upon his feet, but he +was immediately assailed afresh by deadly faintness, and for minutes he +could stand only by means of her arms upholding him. + +Later, with his one available arm across her shoulders, he essayed to +walk, but it was so ghastly an ordeal that he could accomplish only a few +steps at a time. + +Anne did not falter now. She was past that stage. All her nerves were +strung to meet his pressing need. Again and again as he hung upon her, +half-fainting, she stopped to support him more adequately till he had +fought down his exhaustion and was ready to struggle on again. She +remained steadfast and resolute throughout the long-drawn-out agony of +that walk over the snow. + +"Great Heaven!" he muttered once. "That you should do this--for me!" + +And she answered him quickly and passionately, as though indeed there +were something within that spoke for her, "I would do anything for +you, Nap." + +It was drawing near to sunset when at last the end of the journey came in +sight. Anne perceived the car waiting in the distance close to the spot +where Nap had descended upon her that morning. + +She breathed a sigh of thankfulness. "I scarcely thought he would have +waited for you so long," she said. + +"He daren't do otherwise," said Nap, and she caught a faint echo of +arrogance in the words. + +And then of his own free will he paused and faced her. "You are coming +with me," he said. + +She shook her head. "No, Nap." + +His eyes blazed redly. His disfigured face was suddenly devilish. "You +are mad if you go back," he said. + +But she shook her head again. "No, I know what I am doing. And I am going +back now. But I will come to Baronmead in the morning." + +He looked at her. "Are you--tired of life?" he asked abruptly. + +She smiled--a piteous smile. "Very, very tired!" she said. "But you +needn't be afraid of that. He will not touch me. He will not even see me +to-night." Then, as he still looked combative, "Oh, please, leave this +matter to my judgment! I know exactly what I am doing. Believe me, I am +in no danger." + +He gave in, seeing that she was not to be moved from her purpose. + +They went a few yards farther; then, "In Heaven's name--come early to +Baronmead," he said jerkily. "I shall have no peace till you come." + +"I will," she promised. + +The chauffeur came to meet them with clumsy solicitude as they neared the +car, but Nap kept him at a distance. + +"Don't touch me! I've had a bad fall skiing. It's torn me to ribbons. +Just open the door. Lady Carfax will do the rest!" And as the man turned +to obey, "Not a very likely story, but it will serve our turn." + +"Thank you," she said very earnestly. + +He did not look at her again. She had a feeling that he kept his eyes +from her by a deliberate effort of the will. + +Silently she helped him into the car, saw him sink back with her muff +still supporting his injured arm, whispered a low "Good-bye!" and turned +to the waiting chauffeur. + +"Drive him quickly home," she said. "And then go for a doctor." + +Not till the car was out of sight did she realise that her knees were +shaking and refusing to support her. She tottered to a gate by the +roadside, and there, clinging weakly with her head bowed upon her arms, +she remained for a very long time. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE VISION + + +It was growing dusk when Anne at length came to the Manor. She was +utterly weary and faint from lack of food. The servant who admitted her +looked at her strangely, as if half afraid. + +"Please have tea taken to my sitting-room," she said quietly, as she +passed him. + +And with that she went straight to her room. Standing before a mirror to +remove her hat, she caught sight of something that seemed to stab her +heart. The cream cloth coat she wore was all spattered with blood. + +She stood rigid, not breathing, staring into the white face above +it--the white face of a woman she hardly knew, with compressed lips and +wild, tragic eyes. What was it those eyes held? Was it hatred? Was it +madness? Was it--? + +She broke away horror-stricken, and stripped the coat from her with hands +like ice. Again through her mind, with feverish insistence, ran those +words that had startled her earlier in the day. She found herself +repeating them deliriously, under her breath: "I beheld Satan--as +lightning--fall from heaven!" + +Why did they haunt her so? What was it in the utterance that +frightened her? What meaning did they hold for her? What hidden terror +lay behind it? What had happened to her? What nightmare horror was +this clawing at her heart, lacerating, devouring, destroying? It was +something she had never felt before, something too terrible to face, +too overwhelming to ignore. + +Was she going mad, she asked herself? And like a dreadful answer to a +riddle inscrutable her white lips whispered those haunting unforgettable +words: "I beheld Satan--as lightning--fall from heaven." + +Mechanically she bathed her face and hands and passed into her +sitting-room, where her tea awaited her. A bright fire crackled there, +and her favourite chair was drawn up to it. The kettle hissed merrily on +a spirit-lamp. + +Entering, she found, somewhat to her surprise, old Dimsdale waiting to +serve her. + +"Thank you," she said. "I can help myself." + +"If your ladyship will allow me," he said deferentially. + +She sat down, conscious of a physical weakness she could not control. And +the old butler, quiet and courteous and very grave, proceeded to make the +tea and wait upon her in silence. + +Anne lay back in her chair with her eyes upon the fire, and accepted his +ministrations without further speech. There was a very thorough +understanding between herself and Dimsdale, an understanding established +and maintained without words. + +The tea revived her, and after a little she turned her head and looked +up at him. + +"Well, Dimsdale?" + +Dimsdale coughed. "It was about Sir Giles that I wanted to speak to your +ladyship." + +"Well?" she said again. + +"Sir Giles, my lady, is not himself--not at all himself," Dimsdale told +her cautiously. "I was wondering just before you came in if I didn't +ought to send for the doctor." + +"Why, Dimsdale?" Anne looked straight up into the old man's troubled +face, but her eyes had a strangely aloof expression, as though the matter +scarcely touched her. + +Dimsdale shook his head. "It's not the same as usual, my lady. I've never +seen him like this before. There's something--I don't rightly know +what--about him that fair scares me. If your ladyship will only let me +send for the doctor--" + +He paused. Anne's eyes had gone back to the fire. She seemed to be +considering. + +"I don't think the doctor would be at home," she said at last. "Wait till +the morning, Dimsdale--unless he is really ill." + +"My lady, it's not that," said Dimsdale. "There's nothing ails his body. +But--but--" he faltered a little, and finally, "It's his mind," he said, +"if I may make so bold as to say it. I don't believe as he's safe. I'm +afraid he'll be doing a mischief to--someone." + +His pause was not lost upon Anne. Again she raised her eyes and steadily +regarded him. + +"To whom, Dimsdale?" she asked. + +"My lady--" the old man murmured unwillingly. + +"To me?" she questioned in a quiet, unmoved voice. "Why are you +afraid of that?" + +Dimsdale hesitated. + +"Tell me," she said. But again her eyes had sunk to the fire. She seemed +as one not vitally interested, as one whose thoughts were elsewhere. + +Reluctantly Dimsdale made answer: "He's been cutting your ladyship's +portrait into strips and burning 'em in the study fire. It was dreadful +to see him, so intent like and quiet. I saw him put his hand right into +the flame once, and he didn't seem to know. And he came in in one of his +black moods with his hunting-crop broken right in two. Carrying the +pieces he was, and glaring like as if all the world was against him. I +was afraid there would be trouble when he came home to lunch and found +your ladyship not there." + +He stopped, arrested by a sudden movement from Anne. She had leaned +forward and covered her face with her hands. The tension of her attitude +was such that Dimsdale became strongly aware that his presence was an +intrusion. Yet, the matter being urgent, he stood his ground. + +He waited silently, and presently Anne lifted her head. "I think you +must leave the matter till the morning, Dimsdale," she said. "It could do +no good to have the doctor at this hour. Besides, I doubt if he could +come. And Sir Giles will be himself again after a night's rest." + +"I'm very much afraid not, my lady," said Dimsdale lugubriously. "He's +drinking brandy--neat brandy--all the while. I've never seen him drink +like that before. It fair scares me, and that's the truth." + +"You are not afraid on your own account?" Anne asked. + +"Oh, no, my lady. He wouldn't interfere with me. It's your ladyship--" + +"Ah, well," she said, quietly interrupting, "you need not be afraid for +me either. I shall not go downstairs again to-night. He will not be +expecting me." + +"Very good, my lady." + +Dimsdale looked somewhat relieved but not wholly satisfied. He lingered +as if he longed yet did not dare to say more. + +As for Anne, she sat quite motionless gazing into the fire, her hands +clasped very tightly before her. She seemed to have dismissed the subject +under discussion and the faithful Dimsdale simultaneously from her mind. + +After a few seconds the old butler realised this, and without further ado +he removed the tea-things and went quietly away. + +Anne did not notice his departure. She was too deep in thought. Her +brain was steadier now, and she found it possible to think. For the first +time she was asking herself if she would be justified in bringing her +long martyrdom to an end. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain, +patiently, conscientiously, unflaggingly, throughout those seven bitter +years. She had married her husband without loving him, and he had never +sought to win her love. He had married her for the sake of conquering +her, attracted by the very coldness with which she had tried in her +girlhood to repel him. She had caught his fancy in those far-off days. +Her queenliness, her grace, had captivated him. And later, with the sheer +hunter's instinct, he had pursued her, and had eventually discovered a +means of entrapping her. He had named his conditions and she had named +hers. In the end he had dispatched the father to Canada and made the +daughter his wife. + +But his fancy for her had scarcely outlasted his capture. He had taken +pleasure for a while in humiliating her, counting it sport if he +succeeded in arousing her rare indignation. But soon even this had ceased +to amuse him. He had developed into that most odious of all bullies, the +domestic tyrant, and had therewith sunk back into those habits of +intemperance which his marriage had scarcely interrupted. He was many +years her senior. He treated her as a slave, and if now and then an +uncomfortable sensation of inferiority assailed him, he took his revenge +upon her in evil, glowering tempers that rendered him more of a beast +than a man. + +But yet she had borne with him. By neither word nor action had she ever +voluntarily widened the breach between them: His growing dislike had not +had any visible effect upon her. She had done her duty faithfully through +all, had borne his harshness and his insults in silence, with a patience +too majestic, too colossal, for his understanding. + +And now for the first time she asked herself, Did he want to be rid of +her? Had he invented this monstrous grievance to drive her from him? Were +the days of her bondage indeed drawing at last to an end? Had she borne +with him long enough? Was she free--was she free to go? + +Her heart quickened at the bare thought. How gladly would she set herself +to make a living when once this burden had been lifted from her! + +But she would not relinquish it without his sanction. She would be +faithful to the last, true to that bargain she had struck with him so +long ago. Yet surely he could not refuse it. She was convinced that he +hated her. + +Again she felt that strange new life thrilling in her veins. Again she +felt herself almost young. To be free! To be free! To choose her own +friends without fear; to live her own life in peace; to know no further +tumults or petty tyrannies--to be free! + +The prospect dazzled her. She lifted her face and gasped for breath. + +Then, hearing a sound at her door, she turned. + +A white-faced servant stood on the threshold. "If you please, my lady, +your coat is in a dreadful state. I was afraid there must have been an +accident." + +Anne stared at the woman for a few seconds with the dazed eyes of one +suddenly awakened. + +"Yes," she said slowly at length. "There was--an accident. Mr. Nap Errol +was--hurt while skiing." + +The woman looked at her with frank curiosity, but there was that about +her mistress at the moment that did not encourage inquiry or comment. + +She stood for a little silent; then, "What had I better do with the coat, +my lady?" she asked diffidently. + +Anne made an abrupt gesture. The dazed look in her eyes had given place +to horror. "Take it away!" she said sharply. "Do what you like with it! I +never want to see it again." + +"Very good, my lady." + +The woman withdrew, and Anne covered her face with her hands once more, +and shuddered from head to foot. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT THE MERCY OF A DEMON + + +Some time later Anne seated herself at her writing-table. + +The idea of writing to her husband had come to her as an inspiration; not +because she shirked an interview--she knew that to be inevitable--but +because she realised that the first step taken thus would make the final +decision easier for them both. + +She did not find it hard to put her thoughts into words. Her mind was +very clear upon the matter in hand. She knew exactly what she desired to +say. Only upon the subject of her friendship with Nap she could not bring +herself to touch. A day earlier she could have spoken of it, even in the +face of his hateful suspicion, without restraint. But to-night she could +not. It was as if a spell of silence had been laid upon her, a spell +which she dared not attempt to break. She dared not even think of Nap +just then. + +It was not a very long letter that she wrote, sitting there in the +silence of her room, and it did not take her long to write. But when it +was finished, closed and directed, she sat on with her chin upon her +hand, thinking. It seemed scarcely conceivable that he would refuse to +let her go. + +She could not imagine herself to be in any sense necessary to him. She +had helped him with the estate in many ways, but she had done nothing +that a trustworthy agent could not do, save, perhaps, in the matter of +caring for the poorer tenants. They would miss her, she told herself, but +no one else. It was very long since she had entertained any guests at the +Manor. Sir Giles had offended almost everyone who could ever have claimed +the privilege of intimacy with him. And people wondered openly that his +wife still lived with him. Well, they would not wonder much longer. + +And when her life was at her own disposal what would she do with it? + +There were many things she might do; as secretary, as companion, as +music-teacher, as cook. She knew she need not be at a loss. And again the +prospect of freedom from a yoke that galled her intolerably made her +heart leap. + +A slight sound in the passage brought her out of her reverie. She glanced +up. It was probably Dimsdale. She would give him the note to deliver to +his master in the morning. She crossed to the door and opened it. + +The next instant, in amazement, she drew back. On the threshold, face to +face with her, stood her husband! + +He did not give her time to speak, but pushed straight forward into the +room as if in haste. His face was white and purple in patches. His eyes +were narrowed and furtive. There was something unspeakably evil in the +way they avoided hers. He carried his right hand behind him. + +He began to speak at once in quick, staccato tones, with which she was +utterly unfamiliar. + +"So you think you are going to escape me, do you? But you won't! No, not +for all the Errols in the world!" + +She did not answer him. There was something so utterly unusual in this +abrupt visitation that she knew not how to cope with it. But he scarcely +waited for an answer. He swung the door behind him with a bang. + +"Do you remember," he said, his staccato tone merging into one of rising +violence, "a promise I made to you the first time I caught that scoundrel +making love to you? I swore that if it happened again I'd thrash him. +Well, I'm a man who keeps his promises. I've kept that one. And now it's +your turn. I thought at first I'd kill you. But I fancy this will hurt +you more." + +His hand shot suddenly out from behind him, and there followed the +whistle of a thong--the thick, leathern thong with which he kept his +dogs in order. + +It struck her as she stood before him, struck and curled about her +shoulders with a searching, scalding agony that turned her sick, wringing +from her a cry that would never have been uttered had she been prepared. + +But before he could strike again she was ready to cope with his madness. +On the instant she sprang, not from him, but to him, clasping his arms +with both of hers. + +"Giles!" she said, and her voice rang clear and commanding. "You are not +yourself. You don't know what you are doing. Look at me! Do you hear? +Look at me!" + +That was his vulnerable point, and instinctively she knew it. He was +afraid--as a wild animal is afraid--of the compulsion of her eyes. But he +fought with her savagely, furiously, refusing to face her, struggling +with inarticulate oaths to break away from her clinging arms. + +And Anne was powerless against him, powerless as Nap had been earlier +in the day, to make any impression against his frenzied strength. She +was impotent as a child in that awful grip, and in a very few seconds +she knew it. + +He had already wrung his arm free and raised it to strike a second blow, +while she shut her eyes in anguished expectation, still clinging blindly +to his coat, when the door burst open with a crash and Dimsdale tore +into the room. + +Anne heard his coming, but she could not turn. She was waiting with every +nerve stretched and quivering for the thong to fall. And when it did +not, when Dimsdale, with a strength abnormal for his years, flung himself +at the upraised arm and bore it downwards, she was conscious not of +relief, but only of a sudden snapping of that awful tension that was like +a rending asunder of her very being. She relaxed her hold and tottered +back against the wall. + +"He will kill you!" she heard herself saying to Dimsdale. "He will +kill you!" + +But Dimsdale clung like a limpet. Through the surging uproar of her +reeling senses Anne heard his voice. + +"Sir Giles! Sir Giles! This won't do, sir. You've got a bit beyond +yourself. Come along with me, Sir Giles. You are not well. You ought to +be in bed. Now, now, Sir Giles! Give it up! Come! Here's West to help +you undress." + +But Sir Giles fought to be free, cursing hideously, writhing this way and +that with Dimsdale hanging to him; and at sight of the footman hastening +to the old man's assistance he put forth a strength so terrific that he +swung him completely off the ground. + +"He's too much for me!" shouted Dimsdale. "My lady, go--go, for the love +of heaven! Quick, West! Quick! Trip him! It's the only way! Ah!" + +They went down in a fearful, struggling heap. Sir Giles underneath, but +making so violent a fight that the whole room seemed to shake. + +And Anne stood and looked upon the whole ghastly spectacle as one +turned to stone. + +So standing, propped against the wall, she saw the young under-footman +come swiftly in, and had a glimpse of his horrified face as he leapt +forward to join the swaying, heaving mass of figures upon the floor. His +coming seemed to make a difference. Sir Giles's struggles became less +gigantic, became spasmodic, convulsive, futile, finally ceased +altogether. He lay like a dead man, save that his features twitched +horribly as if evil spirits were at work upon him. + +The whole conflict had occupied but a few minutes, but to the rigid +watcher it had been an eternity of fearful tumult. Yet the hard-breathing +silence that followed was almost more terrible still. + +Out of it arose old Dimsdale, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. + +"He didn't hurt your ladyship?" he questioned anxiously. + +But she could not take her eyes from the motionless figure upon the floor +or answer him. + +He drew nearer. "My lady," he said, "come away from here!" + +But Anne never stirred. + +He laid a very humble hand upon her arm. "Let me take you downstairs," he +urged gently. "There's a friend there waiting for your ladyship--a +friend as will understand." + +"A--friend?" She turned her head stiffly, her eyes still striving to +remain fixed upon that mighty, inert form. + +"Yes, my lady. He only came a few minutes back. He is waiting in the +drawing-room. It was Sir Giles he asked to see, said it was very +particular. It was West here took the message to Sir Giles, and I think +it was that as made him come up here so mad like. I came after him as +soon as I heard. But the gentleman is still waiting, my lady. Will you +see him and--explain?" + +"Who is the gentleman?" Anne heard the question, but not as if she +herself had uttered it. The voice that spoke seemed to come from an +immense distance. + +And from equally far seemed to come Dimsdale's answer, though it reached +and pierced her understanding in an instant. + +"It's Mr. Errol, my lady,--the crippled one. Mr. Lucas, I think +his name is." + +Anne turned then as sharply as though a voice had called her. + +"Lucas Errol! Is he here? Ah, take me to him! Take me to him!" + +And the old butler led her thankfully from the scene. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE CITY OF REFUGE + + +The moment Lucas Errol's hand closed upon hers it was to Anne as if an +immense and suffocating weight had been lifted from her, and with it all +her remaining strength crumbled away as if her burden alone had +sustained her. + +She looked at him, meeting the kind, searching eyes without effort, +trying piteously to speak, but her white lips only moved soundlessly, her +throat seemed paralysed. + +"Her ladyship has had a shock, sir," explained Dimsdale. + +"Won't you sit down?" said Lucas gently. In a moment she found herself +sitting on a sofa with this stanch friend of hers beside her, holding her +hand. A few words passed between him and Dimsdale, which she scarcely +heard and was too weak to comprehend, and then they were alone together, +she and Lucas in a silence she felt powerless to break. + +"You mustn't mind me, Lady Carfax," he said. "I know what you have come +through. I understand." + +Dimly she heard the words, but she could not respond to them. She +was shivering, shivering with a violence that she was utterly unable +to repress. + +He did not speak again till Dimsdale came back with a tray, then again he +exchanged a few murmured sentences with the old butler, who presently +said, "Very good, sir," and went softly away. + +Then Lucas turned again to Anne. "Drink this," he said. "It will +revive you." + +She groped for the glass he held towards her, but trembled so much that +she could not take it. + +"Let me," he said, and put it himself to her lips. + +She drank slowly, shuddering, her teeth chattering against the glass. + +"Lay your head down upon the cushion," he said then, "and shut your eyes. +You will be better soon." + +"You--you won't go?" she managed to whisper. + +"Why, no," he said. "It's for your sake I've come. I guess I'm a fixture +for so long as you want me." + +She breathed a sigh of relief and lay back. + +A long time passed. Anne lay motionless with closed eyes, too crushed for +thought. And Lucas Errol watched beside her, grave and patient and still. + +Suddenly there came a sound, piercing the silence, a sound that made Anne +start upright in wild terror. + +"What is it? What is it?" + +Instantly and reassuringly Lucas's hand clasped hers. "Don't be afraid!" +he said. "They are moving him to another room, that's all." + +She sank back, shuddering, her face hidden. The sound continued, seeming +to come nearer--the sound of a man's voice shrieking horribly for help, +in piercing accents of terror that might have come from a +torture-chamber. Suddenly the yells became articulate, resolved into +words: "Anne! Anne! Anne!" in terrible crescendo. + +She sprang up with a sharp cry. + +But on the instant the man beside her spoke. "Anne, you are not to go." + +She paused irresolute. "I must! I must! He is calling me!" + +"You are not to go," he reiterated, and for the first time she heard the +dominant note in his voice. "Come here, child! Come close to me! It will +soon be over." + +Her irresolution passed like a cloud. She looked down, saw his blue eyes +shining straight up at her, kind still, but compelling. And she dropped +upon her knees beside him and hid her face upon his shoulder, with the +cry of, "Help me! Help me! I can't bear it!" + +He folded his arms about her as though he had been a woman, and +held her fast. + +Long after the awful sounds had died away Anne knelt there, sobbing, +utterly unstrung, all her pride laid low, herself no more than a broken, +agonised woman. But gradually, from sheer exhaustion, her sobs became +less anguished, till at length they ceased. A strange peace, wholly +unaccountable, fell gently upon her torn spirit. But even then it was +long before she moved. She felt an overwhelming reluctance to withdraw +herself from the shelter of those quiet arms. + +"What must you think of me?" she whispered at last, her face still +hidden. + +"My dear," he said, "I understand." + +He did not offer to release her, but as she moved she found herself free, +she found herself able to look into his face. + +"I shall never forget your goodness to me," she said very earnestly. + +He smiled a little, after a fashion she did not wholly comprehend. "My +dear Lady Carfax! You underrate friendship when you say a thing like +that. Sit down, won't you? And let me tell you what brought me here." + +"Nap told you--" she hazarded. + +"Yes, Nap told me. And I decided I had better come at once. I wasn't in +when he got back, or I should have been here sooner. I saw there had been +a gross misunderstanding, and I hoped I should be able to get your +husband to take a reasonable view." + +"Ah!" she said, with a shiver. "I--I'm thankful you didn't meet." + +"I am sorry," Lucas said quietly. And though he said no more, she knew +that he was thinking of her. + +"How is Nap?" she ventured hesitatingly. + +"Nap," he said with deliberation, "will be himself again in a very few +weeks. You need have no anxiety for him." + +Again she did not wholly understand his tone. She glanced at him +nervously, half afraid that he was keeping something from her. + +"You really mean that?" + +His eyes met hers, very level and direct. "He is badly battered, of +course. But--he is not quite like other men. He has no nerves to speak of +in a physical sense. He will make a quick recovery. Broken bones mean +very little to a man of his calibre." + +She heard him with relief mingled with a faint wonder at his confidence +on this point. + +"The doctor has seen him?" she asked. + +"Yes; and I have sent my man in the motor to ask him to come on here." + +She shivered again irrepressibly. "Giles hates Dr. Randal." + +"I do not think that will make any difference," Lucas said gently. + +Thereafter they sat together almost in silence, till the buzzing of the +motor told of the doctor's arrival. Then with the aid of a stick Lucas +began to drag himself laboriously to his feet. Anne rose to help him. + +He took her arm, looking at her shrewdly. + +"Lady Carfax, will you let me speak to him alone?" + +"If you wish it," she said. + +"I do wish it." His eyes passed hers suddenly and rested upon the lace at +her neck. In one place it was torn, and the soft flesh was revealed; +revealed also was a long red stripe, swollen and turning. In an instant +his glance fell, but she saw his brows contract as if at a sharp twinge +of pain. "I do wish it," he said again very gently. "P'r'aps you will +wait for me here." + +And with that he relinquished her arm, and made his halting, difficult +way across the room to the door. + +Anne sat down before the fire to wait. She had, to a large extent, +recovered her self-control, but a deadly weariness was upon her which she +found it impossible to shake off. She kept it at bay for a time while she +listened for any sound. But no sound came, and at length exhausted nature +prevailed. + +When Lucas came back she was sunk in her chair asleep. + +He took up his stand near her while he waited for the doctor, and again +that deep furrow showed between his brows. But the eyes that watched her +were soft and tender as a woman's. There was something almost maternal in +their regard, a compassion so deep as to be utterly unconscious of +itself. When the doctor's step sounded at length outside he shuffled away +without disturbing her. + +It was hours later when Anne awoke and sat up with a confused sense of +something wrong. She was still in her easy-chair before the fire, which +burned brightly as ever, while on the other side of the hearth, propped +upright upon cushions and watching her with those steady blue eyes, whose +kindness never varied, was Lucas Errol. + +He spoke to her at once, very softly and gently, as if she had +been a child. + +"I'm real pleased you've had a sleep. You needed it. Don't look so +startled. It's all right--a little late, but that's nothing. Dimsdale +and I agreed that it would be a pity to disturb you. So we let you sleep +on. And he brought in a tray of refreshments to fortify you when you +awoke. He's a thoughtful old chap, Lady Carfax. You're lucky to have +such a servant." + +But Anne scarcely heard him. She was staring at the clock in amazement. +It was half-past three! Just twelve hours since--She repressed a +violent shudder. + +"Don't be shocked any!" besought Lucas in his easy drawl. "I'm often +awake at this hour. I guessed you wouldn't sleep if we woke you to go to +your room, and I didn't quite like the thought of being down here out of +reach. You are not vexed with me, I hope?" + +"No," she said. "I am not vexed." + +But she looked at him very strangely, as if that were not all she +desired to say. + +"Dimsdale has been in and out," he said, "keeping the fire going. He and +one of the others are watching upstairs. But all is quiet there. Sir +Giles has been asleep ever since the doctor left." + +Anne got up slowly. "You look very uncomfortable," she said. + +He smiled up at her. "My dear Lady Carfax, I am all right. The advantage +of this position is that one can rise at a moment's notice." + +As if to demonstrate the truth of this he rose, but not without +considerable effort. + +"Ah, please don't!" she said, putting out a quick, restraining hand. "It +hurts me to see you suffer on my account. It was too kind of you--much +too kind--to stay with me like this. You will never know how much you +have helped me, and I thank you for it with all my heart. Now please sit +down again, and let me wait upon you for a change. Have you had anything +to eat or drink?" + +He sat down again, looking quizzical. "I have been waiting for my hostess +to join me," he said. + +"Do you ever think of yourself at all?" she asked, turning aside to the +tray that Dimsdale's consideration had provided. + +"A great deal more often than you imagine," smiled Lucas. "Must you +really do the waiting? It's very bad for me, you know." + +He joked with her gently through the light repast that followed. And +though she scarcely responded, she let him see her gratitude. + +Finally, he laid aside all pretence of humour and spoke to her very +quietly and gravely of her husband. The doctor thought it advisable to +remove him from the Manor with as little delay as possible. He would +consult her about it in the morning. His brain was without doubt very +seriously affected, and it might take some months to recover. It was +essential that he should be taken away from familiar surroundings and +people whom he knew. + +Anne listened with a whitening face. She asked no questions. Lucas +supplied every detail with the precision that characterised most of his +utterances. Finally he spoke of her position, advised her strongly to +employ an agent for the estate, and promised his help in this or any +other matter in which she might care to avail herself of it. + +He seemed to take it for granted that she would remain at the head of +affairs, and it gradually dawned upon Anne that she could not well do +otherwise. Her presence for a time at least seemed indispensable. The +responsibility had become hers and she could not at that stage shake it +off. Her dream of freedom was over. Of what the future might hold for her +she could not even begin to think. But the present was very clearly +defined. It remained only for her to "do the work that was nearest" as +bravely as she might. + +When Lucas ended she leaned forward and gave him her hand. "I wonder +what I should have done without you," she said. "I believe I should +have gone mad too." + +"No, no, Lady Carfax!" + +She smiled faintly; the tears were standing in her eyes. "Yes, I know. +You don't like to be thanked. But you have been like a mother to me in my +trouble, and--I shall always remember it." + +The blue eyes began to twinkle humorously. The hand that held hers closed +with a very friendly pressure. + +"Well," drawled the kindly American voice, "I'll be shot if that +isn't the kindest thing that anyone ever said to me. And I believe +you meant it too." + +"Yes, I meant it," Anne said. + +And though she smiled also there was genuine feeling in her words. + + + + +PART II + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE JESTER'S RETURN + + +The gradual coming of spring that year was like a benediction after the +prolonged rigour of the frost. The lengthening evenings were wrapped in +pearly mystery, through which the soft rain fell in showers of blessing +upon the waiting earth. To Anne, it was as though a great peace had +descended upon all things, quelling all tumult. She had resolutely taken +up her new burden, which was so infinitely easier than the old, and she +found a strange happiness in the bearing of it. The management of her +husband's estate kept her very fully occupied, so that she had no time +for perplexing problems. She took each day as it came, and each day left +her stronger. + +Once only had she been to Baronmead since the masquerade on the ice. It +was in fulfilment of her promise to Nap, but she had not seen him; and as +the weeks slipped by she began to wonder at his prolonged silence. For +no word of any sort reached her from him. He seemed to have forgotten her +very existence. That he was well again she knew from Lucas, who often +came over in the motor with his mother. + +As his brother had predicted he had made a rapid recovery; but no sooner +was he well than he was gone with a suddenness that surprised no one but +Anne. She concluded that his family knew where he was to be found, but no +news of his whereabouts reached her. Nap was the one subject upon which +neither Mrs. Errol nor her elder son ever expanded, and for some nameless +reason Anne shrank from asking any questions regarding him. She was +convinced that he would return sooner or later. She was convinced that, +whatever appearances might be, he had not relinquished the bond of +friendship that linked them. She did not understand him. She believed him +to be headlong and fiercely passionate, but beneath all there seemed to +her to be a certain stability, a tenacity of purpose, that no +circumstance, however tragic, could thwart. She knew, deep in the heart +of her she knew, that he would come back. + +She would not spend much thought upon him in those days. Something +stood ever in the path of thought. Invariably she encountered it, and +as invariably she turned aside, counting her new peace as too precious +to hazard. + +Meanwhile she went her quiet way, sometimes aided by Lucas, but more +often settling her affairs alone, neither attempting nor desiring to +look into the future. + +The news of Sir Giles's illness spread rapidly through the neighbourhood, +and people began to be very kind to her. She knew no one intimately. Her +husband's churlishness had deprived her of almost all social intercourse, +but never before had she realised how completely he was held responsible +for her aloofness. + +Privately, she would have preferred to maintain her seclusion, but it was +not in her to be ungracious. She felt bound to accept the ready sympathy +extended to her. It touched her, even though, had the choice been hers, +she would have done without it. Lucas also urged her in his kindly +fashion not to lead a hermit's existence. Mrs. Errol was insistent upon +the point. + +"Don't you do it, dear," was her exhortation. "There may not be much good +to be got out of society, I'll admit. But it's one better than solitude. +Don't you shut yourself up and fret. I reckon the Lord didn't herd us +together for nothing, and it's His scheme of creation anyway." + +And so Anne tried to be cordial; with the result that on a certain +morning in early May there reached her a short friendly note from Mrs. +Damer, wife of the M.F.H., begging her to dine with them quite informally +on the following night. + +"There will only be a few of us, all intimate friends," the note said. +"Do come. I have been longing to ask you for such an age." + +Anne's brows drew together a little over the note. She had always liked +Mrs. Damer, but her taste for dinner-parties was a minus quantity. Yet +she knew that the invitation had been sent in sheer kindness. Mrs. Damer +was always kind to everyone, and it was not the fashion among her circle +of friends to disappoint her. + +Anne considered the matter, contemplated an excuse, finally rejected it, +and wrote an acceptance. + +She wore the dress of shimmering green in which she had appeared at the +Hunt Ball. Vividly the memory of that night swept across her. She had not +worn it since, and scarcely knew what impulse moved her to don it now. It +well became her stately figure. Dimsdale, awaiting her departure at the +hall-door, looked at her with the admiring reverence he might have +bestowed upon a queen. + +Again, during her drive through the dark, the memory of that winter night +flashed back upon her. She recalled that smooth, noiseless journey in +which she had seemed to be borne upon wings. She recalled her misery and +her weariness, her dream and her awakening. Nap had been very good to her +that night. He had won her confidence, her gratitude, her friendship. His +reputation notwithstanding, she had trusted him fully, and she had not +found him wanting. A faint sigh rose to her lips. She was beginning to +miss this friend of hers. + +But the next moment she had drawn back sharply and swiftly, as if she +had encountered an angel with a flaming sword. This was the path down +which she would not wander. Why should she wish to do so? There were so +many other paths open to her now. + +When she stepped at length from the carriage her face was serene and +quiet as the soft spring night behind her. + +Upstairs she encountered the doctor's wife patting her hair before a +mirror. She turned at Anne's entrance. + +"Why, Lady Carfax! This is indeed a pleasure. I am so glad to see +you here." + +There was genuine pleasure in her voice, and Anne remembered with a smile +that Mrs. Randal liked her. + +They chatted as she removed her wraps, and finally descended together, +Mrs. Randal turning at the head of the stairs to whisper: "There's that +horrid old gossip, Major Shirley. I know he will fall to my lot. He +always does. How shall I direct the conversation into safe channels?" + +Anne could only shake her head. She knew that Mrs. Randal was not +celebrated for discretion. + +Entering the drawing-room, they found Major Shirley with his wife and +daughter, Ralph and Dot Waring, and the doctor, assembled with their host +and hostess. + +Mrs. Damer glanced at the clock after greeting them. "The Errols +are late." + +Anne chanced to be speaking to Dot at the moment, and the girl's magic +change of countenance called her attention to the words. She wondered if +her own face changed, and became uneasily aware of a sudden quickening of +the heart. Quietly she passed on to speak to the Shirleys. The major +looked her up and down briefly and offensively as his manner was, and she +escaped from his vicinity as speedily as possible. His wife, a powdered, +elderly lady, sought to detain her, but after a few moments Anne very +gently detached herself, accepting the seat which young Ralph Waring +eagerly offered her. + +There followed a somewhat lengthy and by no means easy pause. +Conversation was spasmodic. Everyone was listening for the arrival of the +last guests, and when after some minutes there came the rush of wheels +under the window and the loud hoot of a motor everyone jumped. Mrs. +Damer, who had talked hard through the silences, made no comment but +looked unutterably relieved. + +Dot openly and eagerly watched the door, and Anne with a conscious effort +suppressed an inclination to do likewise. + +When it opened she looked up quite naturally, and surely no one suspected +the wild leaping of her heart. + +Nap entered--sleek, trim, complacent; followed by Bertie, whose brown +face looked unmistakably sullen. + +"Sorry we are late," drawled Nap, "Bertie will make our excuses." + +But Bertie said nothing, and it was left to Mrs. Damer to step into +the breach. + +She did so quite gallantly, if somewhat clumsily. "I am very pleased to +see you, Nap; but, you know, it was your brother whom we expected. I +didn't so much as know that you were at home." + +"Oh, quite so," smiled Nap. "Don't apologise--please!" He bent slightly +over her hand. "So good of you not to mind the exchange. I know I am a +poor substitute. But my brother is entertaining an old friend who has +arrived unexpectedly, so I persuaded him to send me in his place. He +charged me with all manner of excuses and apologies, which I have not +delivered since I know them to be unnecessary." + +Mrs. Damer found it impossible not to smile at his calm effrontery, even +though she knew Major Shirley to be frowning behind her back. + +"When did you return?" she asked. "Someone said you were in the States." + +"I was," said Nap. "I returned half an hour ago; hence our late arrival, +for which I humbly beg to apologise, and to entreat you not to blame +Bertie, who, as you perceive, is still speechless with suspense." + +"Oh, you Americans!" laughed Mrs. Damer. "You are never at a loss. Do let +us go in to dinner. No, Nap! The doctor will take me. Will you take Miss +Waring? But you won't be able to sit together. You have disarranged all +my plans, so I shall treat you as of no importance." + +"Miss Waring won't quarrel with either you or me on that account," +commented Nap, as he offered his arm to the rector's daughter with +ironical courtesy. "Come along, Miss Waring! Shut your eyes and bolt me. +It will soon be over." + +Dot was young enough to make a face at him, but the hard stare with which +he countered it reduced her almost instantly to confusion. Whereupon he +transferred his attention and looked at her no more. + +But compensation was in store for her, for at the dinner-table she found +herself placed between Bertie and the doctor, a pleasing situation in +which she speedily recovered her spirits, since the doctor talked to his +hostess, and Bertie's partner, Mrs. Shirley, strenuously occupied the +attention of her host, who was seated on her other side. + +Major Shirley fell as usual to Mrs. Randal, over which circumstance Anne, +catching a tragic glance from the latter, failed somewhat conspicuously +to repress a smile. + +"Yes, it's mighty funny, isn't it?" said Nap, and with a sharp start she +discovered that he was seated upon her right. + +"I--didn't see you," she faltered. + +"No?" he said coolly. "Well, it's all right. I was told to sit +here--obviously decreed by the gods. You'll think me uncanny if I tell +you that it was just this that I came for." + +"You are uncanny," she said. + +He made her a brief bow. It seemed to her that a mocking spirit gleamed +in his eyes. She had never felt less confident of him, less at her ease +with him, than at that moment. She felt as if in some subtle fashion, +wholly beyond her comprehension, he were playing some deep-laid game, as +if he were weaving some intricate web too secret and too intangible to be +understood or grappled with. Upon one point only was she quite clear. He +would suffer no reference to their last meeting. Whatever the effect of +that terrible punishment upon him, he did not choose that she should see +it. She had seen him in the utmost extremity of his humiliation, but she +should never see the scars that were left. + +This much of his attitude she could understand, and understanding could +pardon that part which baffled her. But she could not feel at her ease. + +"And so you are afraid," said Nap. "That's a new thing for you." + +She glanced round the table. In the general hubbub of talk they were as +isolated as though they were actually alone together. + +"No," she said. "Why should I be afraid? But--I feel as if I am talking +to--a stranger." + +"Perhaps you are," said Nap. + +He uttered a laugh she could not fathom, and then with a certain +recklessness: "Permit me to present to your majesty," he said, "the Knave +of Diamonds!" + +There was that in his tone that hurt her vaguely, little as she +understood it. She smiled with a hint of wistfulness. + +"Surely I have met him before!" she said. + +"Without knowing him," said Nap. + +"No," she maintained. "I have known him for a long while now. I believe +him to be my very good friend." + +"What?" he said. + +She glanced at him, half startled by the brief query; but instantly she +looked away again with a curious, tingling sense of shock. For it was to +her as though she had looked into the heart of a consuming fire. + +"Aren't you rather behind the times?" he drawled. "That was--as you +say--a long while ago." + +The shock passed, leaving her strangely giddy, as one on the edge of +inconceivable depth. She could say no word in answer. She was utterly and +hopelessly at a loss. + +With scarcely a pause Nap turned to Violet Shirley, who was seated on his +right, and plunged without preliminary into a gay flirtation to which all +the world was at liberty to listen if it could not approve. Ralph Waring, +thus deprived of his rightful partner, solaced himself with Mrs. Randal, +who was always easy to please; and the major on her other side relapsed +into bearish gloom. + +It was with unspeakable relief that Anne rose at length from that +dinner-table. She had a deep longing to escape altogether, to go back to +the quiet Manor, where at least all was peace. He had hurt her more +subtly than she could have deemed possible. Had his friendship really +meant so much to her? Or was it only her pride that suffered to think he +valued hers so lightly? It seemed that he was fickle then, fickle as +everyone declared him to be. And yet in her heart she did not for a +moment believe it. That single glimpse she had had, past the gibing devil +in his eyes, deep into the man himself, had told her something different. + +He hated her then, he hated her as the cause of his downfall. This seemed +the more likely. And yet--and yet--did she really believe this either? + +"Dear Lady Carfax, do play to us!" urged her hostess. "It will be such a +treat to hear you." + +She rose half-mechanically and went to the piano, struck a few chords and +began to play, still so deep in her maze of conjecture that she hardly +knew what she had chosen. + +Mrs. Randal came to sit near her. Mrs. Shirley edged close to Mrs. Damer +and began to whisper. The two girls went softly into the conservatory. + +Anne's fingers played on. Now and then Mrs. Randal spoke to her, thanked +her or begged her to continue. But presently she moved away and Anne did +not miss her. She was far too deeply engrossed in her own thoughts. + +"Lady Carfax!" + +She started, every nerve suddenly on the alert. + +"Don't stop playing!" he said, and as it were involuntarily she +continued to play. + +"I am coming to see you to-morrow," he went on. "What time would you like +me to call?" + +She was silent. But the blood had risen in a great wave to her face and +neck. She could feel it racing in every vein. + +"Won't you answer me?" he said. "Won't you fix a time?" + +There was that in his voice that made her long earnestly to see his face, +but she could not. With a great effort she answered: + +"I am generally at home in the afternoon." + +"Then will you be out to the rest of the world?" he said. + +She stilled the wild tumult of her heart with desperate resolution. "I +think you must take your chance of that." + +"I am not taking any chances," he said. "I will come at the fashionable +hour if you prefer it. But--" + +He left the sentence unfinished with a significance that was more +imperious than a definite command. + +Anne's fingers were trembling over the keys. Sudden uncertainty seized +her. She forgot what she was playing, forgot all in the overwhelming +desire to see his face. She muffled her confusion in a few soft chords +and turned round. + +He was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE KERNEL OF THE DIFFICULTY + + +"I want to know!" said Capper, with extreme deliberation. + +He was the best-known surgeon in the United States, and he looked like +nothing so much as a seedy Evangelical parson. Hair, face, beard, all +bore the same distinguishing qualities, were long and thin and yellow. +He sat coiled like a much-knotted piece of string, and he seemed to +possess the power of moving any joint in his body independently of the +rest. He cracked his fingers persistently when he talked after a fashion +that would have been intolerable in anyone but Capper. His hands were +always in some ungainly attitude, and yet they were wonderful hands, +strong and sensitive, the colour of ivory. His eyes were small and +green, sharp as the eyes of a lizard. They seemed to take in everything +and divulge nothing. + +"What do you want to know?" said Lucas. + +He was lying in bed with the spring sunshine full upon him. His eyes were +drawn a little. He had just undergone a lengthy examination at the hands +of the great doctor. + +"Many things," said Capper, somewhat snappishly. "Chief among them, why +your tomfool brother--you call him your brother, I suppose?--brought me +over here on a fool's errand." + +"He is my brother," said Lucas quietly. "And why a fool's errand? Is +there something about my case you don't like?" + +"There is nothing whatever," said Capper, with an exasperated tug at his +pointed beard. "I could make a sound man of you. It wouldn't be easy. +But I could do it--given one thing, which I shan't get. Is the sun +bothering you?" + +He suddenly left his chair, bent over and with infinite gentleness raised +his patient to an easier posture and drew forward the curtain. + +"I guess I won't talk to you now," he said. "I've given you as much as +you can stand and then some already. How's that? Is it comfort?" + +"Absolute," Lucas said with a smile. "Don't go, doctor. I am quite able +to talk. I suppose matters haven't altered very materially since you +saw me last?" + +"I don't see why you should suppose that," said Capper. "As a matter of +fact things have altered--altered considerably. Say, you don't have those +fainting attacks any more?" + +"No. I've learnt not to faint." There was a boyishly pathetic note about +the words though the lips that uttered them still smiled. + +Capper nodded comprehendingly. "But the pain is just as infernal, eh? +Only you've the grit to stand against it. Remember the last time I +overhauled you? You fainted twice. That's how I knew you would never face +it. But I've hurt you worse to-day, and I'm damned if I know how you +managed to come up smiling." + +"Then why do you surmise that you have been brought here on a fool's +errand?" Lucas asked. + +"I don't surmise," said Capper. "I never surmise. I know." He began to +crack his fingers impatiently, and presently fell to whistling below his +breath. "No," he said suddenly, "you've got the physical strength and +you've got the spunk to lick creation, but what you haven't got is zeal. +You're gallant enough, Heaven knows, but you are not keen. You are +passive, you are lethargic. And you ought to be in a fever!" + +His fingers dropped abruptly upon Lucas's wrist, and tightened upon it. +"That brother of yours that you're so fond of, now if it were he, I could +pull him out of the very jaws of hell. He'd catch and hold. But you--you +are too near the other place to care. Say, you don't care, do you, not a +single red cent? It's all one to you--under Providence--whether you live +or die. And if I operated on you to-morrow you'd die--not at once, but +sooner or later--from sheer lack of enthusiasm. That's my difficulty. +It's too long a business. You would never keep it up." + +Lucas did not immediately reply. He lay in the stillness habitual to +him, gazing with heavy eyes at the motes that danced in the sunshine. + +"I guess I'm too old, doctor," he said at last. "But you are wrong in one +sense. I do care. I don't want to die at present." + +"Private reasons?" demanded Capper keenly. + +"Not particularly. You see, I am the head of the family. I hold myself +responsible. My brothers want looking after, more or less." + +"Brothers!" sniffed Capper, with supreme contempt. "That +consideration wouldn't keep you out of heaven. It's only another +reason for holding back." + +"Exactly," Lucas said quietly. "I don't know what Nap will say to me. He +will call me a shirker. But on the whole, doctor, I think I must hold +back a little longer." + +"He'd better let me hear him!" growled Capper. "I wish to heaven you +were married. That's the kernel of the difficulty. You want a wife. +You'd be keen enough then. I shouldn't be afraid of your letting go when +I wasn't looking." + +"Ah!" Lucas said, faintly smiling. "But what of the wife?" + +"She'd be in her element," maintained Capper stoutly. "She'd be to you +what the mainspring is to a watch, and glory in it. Haven't you seen such +women? I have, scores of 'em, ready made for the purpose. No, you will +only go through my treatment with a woman to hold you up. It's a process +that needs the utmost vitality, the utmost courage, and--something great +to live for--a motive power behind to push you on. There's only one +motive power that I can think of strong enough to keep you moving. And +that is most unfortunately absent. Find the woman, I tell you, find the +woman! And--under Providence--I'll do the rest!" + +He dropped back in his chair, cracking his fingers fiercely, his keen +eyes narrowly observant of every shade of expression on his patient's +face. + +Lucas was still smiling, but his eyes had grown absent. He looked +unutterably tired. + +"Yes," he said slowly at length. "I am afraid you have asked the +impossible of me now. But, notwithstanding that, if I could see my way +to it, I would place myself in your hands without reservation--and take +my chance. There are times now and then--now and then--" his words +quickened a little, "when a man would almost give the very soul out of +his body to be at peace--to be at peace; times when it's downright agony +to watch a fly buzzing up and down the pane and know he hasn't even the +strength for that--when every muscle is in torture, and every movement +means hell--" He broke off; his lips usually so steady had begun to +twitch. "I'm a fool, Capper," he murmured apologetically. "Make +allowances for a sick man!" + +"Look here!" said Capper. "This is a big decision for you to make +off-hand. You can take three months anyway to think it over. You are +getting stronger, you know. By then you'll be stronger still. You won't +be well. Nothing but surgical measures can ever make you well. And you'll +go on suffering that infernal pain. But three months one way or another +won't make much difference. I am due in London in September for the +Schultz Medical Conference. I'll run over then and see if you've made up +your mind." + +"Will you, doctor? That's real kind of you." Lucas's eyes brightened. He +stretched out a hand which Capper grasped and laid gently down. "And if +you undertake the job--" + +"If you are fit to go through it," Capper broke in, "I'll do it right +away before I leave. You'll spend the winter on your back. And in the +spring I'll come again and finish the business. That second operation is +a more delicate affair than the first, but I don't consider it more +dangerous. By this time next year, or soon after, you'll be walking like +an ordinary human being. I'll have you as lissom as an Indian." + +He cracked his fingers one after the other in quick succession and rose. +A moment he stood looking down at the smooth face that had flushed +unwontedly at his words; then bending, he lightly tapped his patient's +chest. "Meanwhile, my friend," he said, "you keep a stiff upper lip, and +_cherchez la femme--cherchez la femme toujours_! You'll be a sound man +some day and she won't mind waiting if she's the right sort." + +"Ah!" Lucas said. "You will have to forego that condition, doctor. I am +no ladies' man. Shall I tell you what a woman said to me the other day?" + +"Well?" + +"That I was like a mother to her." Again without much mirth he smiled. +His lips were steady enough now. + +"I should like to meet that woman," said Capper. + +"Why?" + +The doctor's hand sought his beard. "P'r'aps she'd tell me I was like a +father. Who knows?" + +Lucas looked at him curiously. "Are you fond of women?" + +"I adore them," said Capper without enthusiasm. He never satisfied +curiosity. + +Lucas's eyes fell away baffled. "I'll take you to see her this afternoon +if you can spare the time," he said. + +"Oh, I can spend the afternoon philandering so long as I catch the night +train to Liverpool," Capper answered promptly. "Meanwhile you must get a +rest while I go and take a dose of air and sunshine in the yard." + +His straight, gaunt figure passed to the door, opened it, and disappeared +with a directness wholly at variance with his lack of repose when seated. + +As for Lucas, he lay quite still for a long while, steadily watching the +motes that danced and swam giddily in the sunshine. + +Nearly half an hour went by before he stirred at all. And then a heavy +sigh burst suddenly from him, shaking his whole body, sending a flicker +of pain across his drooping eyelids. + +"_Cherchez la femme_!" he said to himself. And again with a quivering +smile, "_Cherchez la femme_! God knows she isn't far to seek. But--my +dear--my dear!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE FIRST ORDEAL + + +All the birds in the Manor garden were singing on that afternoon in May. +The fruit trees were in bloom. The air was full of the indescribable +fragrance of bursting flowers. There was no single note of sadness in all +the splendid day. But the woman who paced slowly to and fro under the +opening lilacs because she could not rest knew nothing of its sweetness. + +The precious peace of the past few weeks had been snatched from her. She +was face to face once more with the problem that had confronted her for a +few horror-stricken minutes on that awful evening in March. Then she had +thrust it from her. Since she had resolutely turned her back upon it. But +to-day it was with her, and there was no escaping it. It glared at her +whichever way she turned, a monster of destruction waiting to devour. And +she was afraid, horribly, unspeakably afraid, with a fear that was +neither physical nor cowardly, yet which set her very soul a-trembling. + +Restlessly she wandered up and down, up and down. It was a day for +dreams, but she was terribly and tragically awake. + +When Nap Errol came to her at length with his quick, light tread that was +wary and noiseless as a cat's, she knew of his coming long before he +reached her, was vividly, painfully aware of him before she turned to +look. Yesterday she had longed to look him in the face, but to-day she +felt she dared not. + +Slim and active he moved across the grass, and there came to her ears a +slight jingle of spurs. He had ridden then. A sudden memory of the man's +free insolence in the saddle swept over her, his domination, his +imperial arrogance. Turning to meet him, she knew that she was quivering +from head to foot. + +He came straight up to her, halted before her. "Have you no welcome for +me?" he said. + +By sheer physical effort she compelled herself to face him, to meet the +fierce, challenging scrutiny which she knew awaited her. She held out her +hand to him. "I am always glad to see you, Nap," she said. + +He took her hand in a sinewy, compelling grip. "Although you prefer good +men," he said. + +The ground on which she stood seemed to be shaking, yet she forced +herself to smile, ignoring his words. + +"Let us go and sit down," she said. + +Close by was a seat under a great lilac tree in full purple bloom. She +moved to it and sat down, but Nap remained upon his feet, watching +her still. + +The air was laden with perfume--the wonderful indescribable essences of +spring. Away in the distance, faintly heard, arose the bleating of lambs. +Near at hand, throned among the purple flowers above their heads, a +thrush was pouring out the rapture that thrilled his tiny life. The whole +world pulsed to the one great melody--the universal, wordless song. Only +the man and the woman were silent as intruders in a sacred place. + +Anne moved at last. She looked up very steadily, and spoke. "It seems +like holy ground," she said. + +Her voice was hushed, yet it had in it a note of pleading. Her eyes +besought him. + +And in answer Nap leaned down with a sudden, tigerish movement and laid +his hand on hers. "What have I to do with holiness?" he said. "Anne, come +down from that high pedestal of yours! I'm tired of worshipping a +goddess. I want a woman--a woman! I shall worship you none the less +because I hold you in my arms." + +It was done. The spell was broken. Those quick, passionate words had +swept away her last hope of escape. She was forced to meet him face to +face, to meet him and to do battle. + +For a long second she sat quite still, almost as if stunned. Then sharply +she turned her face aside, as one turns from the unbearable heat and +radiance when the door of a blast-furnace is suddenly opened. + +"Oh, Nap," she said, and there was a sound of heart-break in her words, +"What a pity! What a pity!" + +"Why?" he demanded fiercely. "I have the right to speak--to claim my own. +Are you going to deny it--you who always speak the truth?" + +"You have no right," she answered, still with her face averted. "No man +has ever the faintest right to say to another man's wife what you have +just said to me." + +"And you think I will give you up," he said, "for that?" + +She did not at once reply. Only after a moment she freed her hands from +his hold, and the action seemed to give her strength. She spoke, her +voice very clear and resolute. "I am not going to say anything unkind to +you. You have already borne too much for my sake. But--you must know that +this is the end of everything. It is the dividing of the ways--where we +must say good-bye." + +"Is it?" he said. He looked down at her with his brief, thin-lipped +smile. "Then--if that's so--look at me--look at me, Anne, and tell me +that you don't love me!" + +She made an almost convulsive gesture of protest and sat silent. + +For a little he waited. Then, "That being so," he said very deliberately, +"there is no power on earth--I swear--I swear--that shall ultimately +come between us!" + +"Oh, hush!" she said. "Hush!" She turned towards him, her face white +and agitated. "I will not listen to you, Nap. I cannot listen to you! +You must go." + +She stretched a hand towards him appealingly, and he caught it, crushing +it against his breast. For a moment he seemed about to kneel, and then he +altered his purpose and drew her to her feet. Again she was aware of that +subtle, mysterious force within him, battling with her, seeking to +dominate, to conquer, to overwhelm her. Again there came to her that +sense of depth, depth unutterable, appalling. She seemed to totter on the +very edge of the pit of destruction. + +Very quietly at length his voice came to her. It held just a touch of +ridicule. "What! Still doing sacrifice to the great god Convention? My +dear girl, but you are preposterous! Do you seriously believe that I will +suffer that drunken maniac to come between us--now?" + +He flung his head back with the words. His fiery eyes seemed to scorch +her. And overhead the rapturous bird-voice pealed forth a perfect paean +of victory. + +But Anne stood rigid, unresponsive as an image of stone. "He is my +husband," she said. + +She felt his hand tighten upon hers, till the pressure was almost more +than she could endure. "You never felt a spark of love for him!" he said. +"You married him--curse him!--against your will!" + +"Nevertheless, I married him," she said. + +He showed his teeth for a moment, and was silent. Then imperiously he +swept up his forces for the charge. "These things are provided for in the +States," he said. "If you won't come to me without the sanction of the +law, I will wait while you get it. I will wait till you are free--till I +can make you my lawful wife. That's a fair offer anyway." He began to +smile. "See what a slave you have made of me!" he said. "I've never +offered any woman marriage before." + +But Anne broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Oh, don't you know me better +than that?" she said. "Nap, I am not the sort of woman to throw off the +yoke like that. It is true that I never loved him, and I do not think +that I shall ever live with him again. But still--I married him, and +while he lives I shall never be free--never, never!" + +"Yet you are mine," he said. + +"No--no!" + +She sought to free her hand, but he kept it. "Look at me!" he said. "Do +you remember that day in March--the day you saw me whipped like a dog?" + +Involuntarily she raised her eyes to his. "Oh, don't!" she whispered, +shuddering. "Don't!" + +But he persisted. "You felt that thrashing far more than I did, though it +made a murderer of me. You were furious for my sake. Did you never ask +yourself why?" Then in a lower voice, bending towards her, "Do you think +I didn't know the moment I saw your face above mine? Do you think I +didn't feel the love in your arms, holding me up? Do you think it isn't +in your eyes--even now?" + +"Oh, hush!" she said again piteously. "Nap, you are hurting me. I cannot +bear it. Even if it were so, love--true love--is a sacred thing--not to +be turned into sin." + +"Sin!" he said. "What is sin? Is it sin to fulfil the very purpose for +which you were created?" + +But at that she winced so sharply that he knew he had gone too far. +It was characteristic of the man that he made no attempt to recover +lost ground. + +"I'm a wicked pagan no doubt," he said, with a touch of recklessness. +"Everyone will tell you so. I fancy I've told you so myself more than +once. Yet you needn't shrink as if I were unclean. I have done nothing +that you would hate me for since I have known you." + +He paused and seemed to listen, then very quietly released her hand. A +curious expression flickered across his face as he did so, and a little +chill went through her. It was like the closing of the furnace door. + +"I am going," he said. "But I shall come back--I shall come back." His +smile, sudden and magnetic, gleamed for an instant and was gone. + +"Do you remember the missing heart?" he said "There are some things that +I never forget." + +And so, without farewell, he turned and left her, moving swiftly and +easily over the grass. She heard the jingle of his spurs, but no sound of +any footfall as he went. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FATAL STREAK + + +"My lady!" + +Anne looked up with a start. She had been sitting with closed eyes under +the lilac tree. + +Dimsdale, discreet and deferential as ever, stood before her. + +"Mr. Lucas Errol is here," he told her, "with another gentleman. I knew +your ladyship would wish to be at home to him." + +"Oh, certainly," she answered, rising. "I am always at home to Mr. Lucas +Errol. Please tell him I am coming immediately." + +But she did not instantly follow Dimsdale. She stood instead quite +motionless, with her face to the sky, breathing deeply. + +When she turned at length she had recovered all her customary serenity. +With the quiet dignity peculiar to her, she passed up the garden path, +leaving the thrush still singing, singing, singing, behind her. + +She found her visitors in the drawing-room, which she entered by the +open window. Lucas greeted her with his quiet smile and introduced +Capper--"a very great friend of mine, and incidentally the finest +doctor in the U.S.A." + +She shook hands with the great man, feeling the small green eyes running +over her, and conscious that she blushed under their scrutiny. She +wondered why, with a vague feeling of resentment. She also wondered what +had moved Lucas to bring him. + +As she sat at the tea-table and dispensed hospitality to her guests it +was Lucas who kept the conversation going. She thought he seemed in +wonderful spirits despite the heavy droop of his eyelids. + +Capper sat in almost unbroken silence, studying his hostess so +perpetually that Anne's nerves began to creak at last under the strain. + +Quite suddenly at length he set down his cup. "Lady Carfax," he said +abruptly, "I'm told you have a herb garden, and I'm just mad on herbs. +Will you take me to see it while Lucas enjoys a much-needed and +well-earned rest?" + +Anne glanced up in surprise. They were almost the first words he had +spoken. Capper was already upon his feet. He stood impatiently cracking +his fingers one by one. + +She rose. "Of course I will do so with pleasure if Mr. Errol +doesn't mind." + +"Certainly not, Lady Carfax," smiled Lucas. "I am extremely comfortable. +Pray give him what he wants. It is the only way to pacify him." + +Anne smiled and turned to the window. They went out together into the +golden spring evening. + +The herb garden was some distance from the house. Capper strode along in +silence, with bent brows. More than ever Anne wondered what had brought +him. She did not try to make conversation for him, realising by instinct +that such effort would be vain as well as unwelcome. She merely walked +quietly beside him, directing their steps whither he had desired to go. + +They were out of sight of the house before he spoke. "Say, madam, +I'm told you know the Errol family off by heart without needing to +look 'em up." + +She glanced at him in surprise. "Of course I know them. Yes, I know +them all." + +"Well?" he demanded. + +"Oh, quite well." Almost involuntarily she began to explain the intimacy. +"I was taken to their house after a hunting accident, and I was an +invalid there for several weeks." + +"That so?" Again piercingly the American's eyes scanned her. "You're real +friendly then? With which in particular?" + +She hesitated momentarily. Then, "I am very fond of Mrs. Errol," she +said, speaking very quietly. "But Nap was my first friend, and +afterwards Lucas--" + +"Oh, Nap!" + +There was such withering contempt in the exclamation that she had +perforce to remark it. + +"Nap is evidently no favourite with you," she said. + +He raised his brows till they nearly met his hair. "Nap, my dear lady," +he drily observed, "is doubtless all right in his own sphere. It isn't +mine, and it isn't yours. I came over to this country at his request and +in his company, and a queerer devil it has never been my lot to +encounter. But what can you expect? I've never yet seen him in a blanket +and moccasins, but I imagine that he'd be considerably preferable that +way. I guess he's just a fish out of water on this side of civilisation." + +"What can you mean?" Anne said. + +For the second time that afternoon she felt as if the ground beneath her +had begun to tremble. She looked up at him with troubled eyes. Surely the +whole world was rocking! + +"I mean what I say, madam," he told her curtly. "It's a habit of mine. +There is a powerful streak of red in Nap Errol's blood, or I am much +mistaken." + +"Ah!" Anne said, and that was all. In a flash she understood him. She +felt as if he had performed some ruthless operation upon her, and she was +too exhausted to say more. Unconsciously her hand pressed her heart. It +was beating strangely, spasmodically; sometimes it did not beat at all. +For she knew beyond all doubting that what he said was true. + +"I don't say the fellow is an out-and-out savage," Capper was saying. +"P'r'aps he'd be more tolerable if he were. But the fatal streak is +there. Never noticed it? I thought you women noticed everything. Oh, I +can tell you he's made things hum on our side more times than I've +troubled to count. Talk of the devil in New York and you very soon find +the conversation drifting round to Nap Errol. Now and then he has a lapse +into sheer savagery, and then there is no controlling him. It's just as +the fit takes him. He's never to be trusted. It's an ineradicable taint." + +She shivered at the words, but still she did not speak. + +Capper went unconcernedly on. "I fancy Lucas once thought he was going to +make a gentleman of him. A gentleman, ye gods! Teach a tiger to sit up +and beg! He has a most amazing patience, but I guess even he realises by +now that the beast is untamable. Mrs. Errol saw it long ago. There's a +fine woman for you--A.1., gilt-edged, quality of the best. You know Mrs. +Errol, you say?" + +"Yes, I know her." Anne heard the words, but was not conscious of +uttering them. + +Capper gave her a single straight look. "You wouldn't think, would you," +said he, "that that woman carries a broken heart about with her? But I +assure you that's so. Nap Errol was the tragedy of her life." + +That quickened her to interest. She was conscious of a gradual sinking +downwards of her dismay till it came to rest somewhere deep in her inmost +soul, leaving the surface free for other impressions. + +"He came out of nowhere," Capper went on. "She never tried to account for +him. He was her husband's son. She made him hers. But he's been a tiger's +cub all his life, a hurricane, a firebrand. He and Bertie are usually at +daggers drawn and Lucas spends his time keeping the peace; which is about +as wearing an occupation for a sick man as I can imagine. I want to put a +stop to it, Lady Carfax. I speak as one family friend to another. Lucas +seems to like you. I believe you could make him see reason if you took +the trouble. Women are proverbially ingenious." + +Anne's faint smile showed for a moment. They had entered the herb garden +and were passing slowly down the central path. It was a small enclosure +surrounded by clipped yew hedges and intersected by green walks. The +evening sunlight slanting down upon her, had turned her brown hair to +ruddiest gold. There was no agitation about her now. The grey eyes were +gravely thoughtful. + +She bent presently to pluck a sprig of rosemary. "Will you tell me," she +said, "what it is that you want to do?" + +Capper shot her a keen side-glance. "I want to cure him," he said. "I +want to make a whole man of him." + +"Could you?" she asked. + +"I could." Abruptly Capper stopped. His yellow face was curiously aglow. +"I say I could," he asserted almost fiercely, "if I could choose my +conditions. If I could banish that pestilent brother of his, if I could +rouse him to something like energy, if I could turn his will in one +direction only, I could do it. Given his whole-hearted co-operation, I +could do it. Without it, I am powerless. He would simply die of +inanition." + +"It would mean an operation then? A very serious one?" Anne had paused +upon the green path. Her eyes sought Capper's. + +He answered her with curt directness. "My dear lady, it would mean not +one, but two. I won't trouble you with technical details which you +wouldn't understand. Put briefly, it would mean in the first place a +pulling down and in the second a building up. Both operations would be a +serious tax upon his strength, but I am satisfied that he has the +strength for both. Six months would elapse between the two, and during +that time he would be flat on his back. If he could hold on for those six +months he would come through all right. Of that I am convinced. But those +six months are my stumbling-block. Freedom from all anxiety is essential. +He wants a stanch friend continually beside him to keep him cheery and at +peace. That fellow Nap is the principle obstacle. He stirs up hell and +tommy wherever he goes, and he's never absent for long. Lucas himself +admits that his brothers are a care to him. Oh, it's all an infernal +tangle. I sometimes think family ties are the very deuce." + +Capper tugged at his beard with restless fingers and ground his heel +into the turf. + +"If you consider Nap an obstacle--why don't you speak to him?" Anne asked +in her quiet voice. + +Capper shrugged his shoulders. "He hates me--and small wonder! I've told +him the brutal truth too often." + +Anne passed the matter by. "And Lucas does not wish to undergo the +operation?" + +"That's just the infernal part of it!" burst forth Capper. "He would +undergo it to-morrow if he didn't consider himself indispensable to these +young whelps. But that isn't all. Lady Carfax, he wants help. He wants +someone strong to stand by. I believe you could do it--if you would. You +are the sort of woman that men turn to in trouble. I've been watching +you. I know." + +Again very faintly Anne smiled, with more of patience than amusement. +"Dr. Capper, has Lucas been telling you about me?" + +Capper thrust out a hand. "Yes." + +"You know how I am situated?" she questioned. + +"I do." There was no sympathy in Capper's voice or face; only in the +grasp of his hand. + +"And you think I could be of use to him?" + +"I don't think," said Capper. "I know." He released her hand as abruptly +as he had taken it. His long fingers began to curve and crack +mechanically. "I'll tell you something," he said. "Don't know why I +should, but I will. I love Lucas Errol as if he were my son." + +"Ah!" Anne said gently. "I think we all love him in our different ways." + +"That so?" said the American keenly. "Then I shall leave the matter in +your charge, Lady Carfax. I can see you're a capable woman. I'm coming +back in September to perform that operation. You will have a willing +patient ready for me--by willing I mean something gayer than +resigned--and my bugbear, Nap--that most lurid specimen of civilised +devilry--hunting scalps on the other side of the Atlantic." + +"Oh, I don't know!" Anne said quickly. "I don't know!" + +She spoke breathlessly, as one suddenly plunged into a strong current. +Her face was bent over the sprig of rosemary which she was threading in +her dress. Her fingers were trembling. + +Capper watched her silently. + +"Let me!" he said at last. + +He took the sprig from her with a hand that was perfectly steady, held it +a moment, seemed to hesitate, finally withdrew it and planted it in his +own buttonhole. + +"I guess I'll keep it myself," he said, "with your permission, in memory +of a good woman." + +Anne commanded herself and looked up. "Keep it, by all means," she said. +"But do not expect too much from me. No woman is always good. The best +of us fail sometimes." + +"But you will do your best when the time comes?" he said, in a tone that +was a curious blend of demand and entreaty. + +She met his eyes quite fully. "Yes," she said, "I will do my best." + +"Then I'm not afraid," said Capper. "We shall pull him through between +us. It will be a miracle, of course, but"--a sudden smile flashed across +his face, transforming him completely--"miracles happen, Lady Carfax." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TOKEN + + +Slowly Anne drew aside the curtain and looked forth into the night, a +magic night, soft and wonderful, infinitely peaceful. A full moon shone +high in the sky with an immense arc of light around it, many-rayed, +faintly prismatic. There was the scent of coming rain in the air, but no +clouds were visible. The stars were dim and remote, almost quenched in +that flood of moonlight. + +Across the quiet garden came the song of a nightingale in one of the +shrubberies, now soft and far like the notes of a fairy flute, now close +at hand and filling the whole world with music. Anne stood, a silent +listener, on the edge of the magic circle. + +She had just risen from the piano, where for the past hour or more she +had been striving to forget the fever that burned within. Now at last she +had relinquished the piteous, vain attempt, and utterly wearied she stood +drinking in the spring sweetness. + +It was drawing towards midnight, and all but herself had retired. She +knew she ought to bolt the window and go to rest also; only she knew, +too, that no rest awaited her. The silver peace into which she gazed was +like balm to her tired spirit, but yet she could only stand, as it were, +upon the edge. + +A great longing was upon her, a voiceless, indescribable desire, that +made within her so deep a restlessness that no outside influence seemed +able to touch it. She leaned her head against the window-frame, conscious +of suffering but scarcely aware of thought. + +With no effort of hers the events of that afternoon passed before her. +She heard again the ardent voice of the friend who had become the lover. +He had loved her from the first, it seemed, and she had not known it. +Could it be that she had loved him also, all unknowing? + +There came again to her the memory of those fierce, compelling eyes, the +dogged mastery with which he had fought her resolution, the sudden magic +softening of the harsh face when he smiled. There came again the +passionate thrilling of his voice; again her hands tingled in that close +grip; again she thought she felt the beating of the savage heart. + +She raised her arms above her head with the gesture of one who wards off +something immense, but they fell almost immediately. She was so tired--so +tired. She had fought so hard and so long. Oh, why was there no peace for +her? What had she done to be thus tortured? Why had love come to her at +all? In all her barren life she had never asked for love. + +And now that it had come it was only to be ruthlessly dashed against the +stones. What had she to do with love--love, moreover, for a man who could +offer her but the fiery passion of a savage, a man from whom her every +instinct shrank, who mocked at holy things and overthrew all barriers of +convention with a cynicism that silenced all protest. What--ah, what +indeed!--had she to do with love? + +She had lived a pure life. She had put out the fires of youth long ago, +with no hesitating hand. She had dwelt in the desert, and made of it her +home. Was it her fault that those fires had been kindled afresh? Was she +to blame because the desert had suddenly blossomed? Could she be held +responsible for these things, she who had walked in blindness till the +transforming miracle had touched her also and opened her eyes? + +She shivered a little. Oh, for a helping hand! Oh, for a deliverer from +this maze of misery! + +She saw again the quiet garden lying sleeping before her in the +moonlight, and felt as if God must be very far away. She was very +terribly alone that night. + +The impulse came to her to pass out into the dewy stillness, and she +obeyed it, scarcely knowing what she did. Over the silver grass, +ghost-like, she moved. It was as if a voice had called her. On to the +lilac trees with their burden of fragrant blossoms, where the thrush +had raised his song of rapture, where she had faced that first fiery +ordeal of love. + +She reached the bench where she had sat that afternoon. There was not a +leaf that stirred. The nightingale's song sounded away in the distance. +The midnight peace lay like a shroud upon all things. But suddenly fear +stabbed her, piercing every nerve to quivering activity. She knew--how, +she could not have said--that she was no longer alone. + +She stood quite still, but the beating of her heart rose quick and +insistent in her ears, like the beat of a drum. Swift came the conviction +that it was no inner impulse that had brought her hither. She had obeyed +a voice that called. + +For many seconds she stood motionless, not breathing, not daring to turn +her head. Then, as her strength partially returned, she took two steps +forward to the seat under the lilac tree, and, her hand upon the back of +it, she spoke. + +"Nap!" + +He came, gliding like a shadow behind her. Slowly she turned and +faced him. + +He was still in riding-dress. She heard again the faint jingle of his +spurs. Yet the moonlight shone strangely down upon him, revealing in him +something foreign, something incongruous, that she marvelled that she had +never before noticed. The fierce, dusky face with its glittering eyes and +savage mouth was oddly unfamiliar to her, though she knew it all by +heart. In imagination she clothed him with the blanket and moccasins of +Capper's uncouth speech; and she was afraid. + +She did not know how to break the silence. The heart within her was +leaping like a wild thing in captivity. + +"Why are you here?" she said at last, and she knew that her voice shook. + +He answered her instantly, with a certain doggedness. "I want to know +what Capper has been saying to you." + +She started almost guiltily. Her nerves were on edge that night. + +"You may as well tell me," he said coolly. "Sooner or later I am +bound to know." + +With an effort she quieted her agitation. "Then it must be later," she +said. "I cannot stay to talk with you now." + +"Why not?" he said. + +Desperately she faced him, for her heart still quaked within her. The +shock of Capper's revelation was still upon her. He had come to her too +soon. "Nap," she said, "I ask you to leave me, and I mean it. Please go!" + +But he only drew nearer to her, and she saw that his face was stern. He +thrust it forward, and regarded her closely. + +"So," he said slowly, "he has told you all about me, has he?" + +She bent her head. It was useless to attempt to evade the matter now. + +"I am mightily obliged to him," said Nap. "I wanted you to know." + +Anne was silent. + +After a moment he went on. "I meant to have told you myself. I even began +to tell you once, but somehow you put me off. It was that night at +Baronmead--you remember?--the night you wanted to help me." + +Well she remembered that night--the man's scarcely veiled despair, his +bitter railing against the ironies of life. So this had been the meaning +of it all. A thrill of pity went through her. + +"Yes," he said. "I knew you'd be sorry for me. I guess pity is about the +cheapest commodity on the market. But--you'll hardly believe it--I don't +want your pity. After all, a man is himself, and it can't be of much +importance where he springs from--anyway, to the woman who loves him." + +He spoke recklessly, and yet she seemed to detect a vein of entreaty +in his words. She steeled her heart against it, but it affected her +none the less. + +"Nap," she said firmly, "there must be no more talk of love between us. I +told you this afternoon that I would not listen, and I will not. Do you +understand me? It must end here and now. I am in earnest." + +"You don't say!" said Nap. + +He was standing close to her, and again fear stabbed her--fear that was +almost abhorrence. There was something about him that was horribly +suggestive of a menacing animal. + +"I am in earnest," she said again. But she could not meet his eyes any +longer. She dared not let him read her soul just then. + +"I am in earnest too," said Nap. "But you needn't be afraid of me on that +account. I may be a savage, but I'm not despicable. If I take more than +you are prepared to offer it's only because I know it to be my own." He +bent towards her, trying to see her face. "My own, Anne!" he said again +very softly. "My own!" + +But at his movement she drew back sharply, with a gesture of such +instinctive, such involuntary recoil, that in an instant she knew that +she had betrayed that which she had sought to hide. + +He stiffened as if at a blow, and she saw his hands clench. In the +silence that followed she stood waiting for the storm to burst, waiting +for his savagery to tear asunder all restraining bonds and leap forth in +devilish fury. But--by what means she knew not--he held it back. + +"So," he said at last, his voice very low, "the Queen has no further use +for her jester!" + +Her heart smote her. What had she done? She felt as if she had cruelly +wounded a friend. But because he demanded of her more than friendship, +she dared not attempt to allay the hurt. She stood silent. + +"Can't you find another _rôle_ for me?" he said. "You will find it +difficult to exclude me altogether from the cast." + +Something in his tone pierced her, compelled her. She glanced up swiftly, +met his eyes, and was suddenly caught, as it were, in fiery chains, so +that she could not look away. And there before her the gates of hell +opened, and she saw a man's soul in torment. She saw the flames mount +higher and higher, scorching and shrivelling and destroying, till at last +she could bear the sight no longer. She covered her face with her hands +and blotted it out. + +"Oh, Nap," she moaned, "if you love me--if you love me--" + +"If I love you--" he said. + +He put his hand on her shoulder and she trembled from head to foot. + +"Prove your love!" she whispered, her face still hidden. + +He stood awhile motionless, still with his hand upon her. But at last it +fell away. + +"You doubt my love then?" he said, and his voice sounded strange to +her, almost cold. "You think my love is unworthy of you? You have--lost +faith in me?" + +She was silent. + +"Is it so?" he persisted. "Tell me the truth. I may as well know it. You +think--because I am not what Capper would, term a thoroughbred--that I +am incapable of love. Isn't that so?" + +But still she did not answer him. Only, being free, she turned to the +garden-seat and sank down upon it, her arms stretched along the back, +her head bowed low. + +He began to pace up and down like a caged animal, pausing each time he +passed her, and each time moving on again as if invisibly urged. At last +very suddenly he stopped with his back to her, and stood like a statue in +the moonlight. + +She did not look at him. She was too near the end of her strength. Her +heart was beating very slowly, like a run-down watch. She felt like an +old, old woman, utterly tired of life. And she was cold--cold from +head to foot. + +Minutes passed. Somewhere away in the night an owl hooted, and Nap +turned his head sharply, as one accustomed to take note of every sound. +A while longer he stood, seeming to listen, every limb alert and tense, +then swiftly he wheeled and gazed full at the drooping woman's figure on +the bench. + +Slowly his attitude changed. Something that was bestial went out of it; +something that was human took its place. Quietly at length he crossed +the moonlit space that intervened between them, reached her, knelt +beside her. + +"Anne," he said, and all her life she remembered the deep melancholy of +his voice, "I am a savage--a brute--a devil. But I swear that I have it +in me to love you--as you deserve to be loved. Won't you have patience +with me? Won't you give me a chance--the only chance I've ever had--of +getting above myself, of learning what love can be? Won't you trust me +with your friendship once more? Believe me, I'm not all brute." + +She thrilled like a dead thing waked to life. Her dread of the man passed +away like an evil dream, such was the magic he had for her. She slipped +one of her cold hands down to him. + +He caught it, bowed his head upon it, pressed it against his eyes, then +lifted his face and looked up at her. + +"It is not the end then? You haven't given me up in disgust?" + +And she answered him in the only way possible to her. "I will be +your friend still, only--only let there never again be any talk of +love between us. That alone will end our friendship. Can I trust +you? Nap, can I?" + +He jerked back his head at the question, and showed her his face in the +full moonlight. And she saw that his eyes were still and passionless, +unfathomable as a mountain pool. + +"If you can bring yourself--if you will stoop--to kiss me," he said, "I +think you will know." + +She started at the words, but she knew instantly that she had nought to +fear. His voice was as steady as his eyes. He asked this thing of her as +a sign of her forgiveness, of her friendship, of her trust; and every +generous impulse urged her to grant it. She knew that if she refused he +would get up and go away, cut to the heart. She seemed to feel him +pleading with her, earnestly beseeching her, reasoning against prejudice, +against the shackles of conventionality, against reason itself. And +through it all her love for the man throbbed at the very heart of her, +overriding all doubt. + +She leaned towards him; she laid her hands upon his shoulders. + +"In token of my trust!" she said, and bent to kiss his forehead. + +But he gave her his lips instead--the thin, cynical lips that were wont +to smile so bitterly. There was no bitterness about them now. They were +only grave to sternness. And so, after a moment, she kissed him as he +wished, and he kissed her in return. + +Afterwards, he rose in unbroken silence, and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BURIAL OF A HATCHET + + +During the weeks that followed, something of her former tranquillity came +back to Anne. It was evident that Nap was determined to show himself +worthy of her trust, for never by word or look did he make the slightest +reference to what had passed between them. He came and went after his +customary sudden fashion. He never informed any one of his movements, nor +did even Lucas know when he might be expected at Baronmead. But his +absences were never of long duration, and Anne met him fairly frequently. + +She herself was more at leisure now than she had been for years, for +Lucas had found an agent for her and the sole care of her husband's +estate no longer lay upon her. She spent much of her time with Mrs. +Errol. Her happiest hours were those she spent with Lucas and his mother +in the great music-room at Baronmead. It was here also that she learned +to know of that hidden, vital quantity, elusive as flame, that was Nap +Errol's soul. For here he would often join them, and the music he drew +from his violin, weirdly passionate, with a pathos no words could ever +utter, was to Anne the very expression of the man's complex being. There +were times when she could hardly hear that wild music of his without +tears. It was like the crying of something that was lost. + +Often, after having accompanied him for a long time, she would take her +hands from the piano and sit silent with a strange and bitter sense of +impotence, as if he were leading whither she could not follow. And Nap +would play on and on in the quiet room, as though he played for her +alone, with the sure hand of a master upon the quivering strings of her +woman's heart. + +But he never spoke to her of love. His eyes conveyed no message at any +time. His straight gaze was impenetrable. He never even touched her hand +unless she offered it to him. And gradually her confidence in him grew +stronger. The instinct that bade her beware of him ceased to disquiet +her. She found herself able to meet him without misgiving, believing that +he had conquered himself for her sake, believing that he bowed to the +inevitable and was willing to content himself with her friendship. + +Undoubtedly a change had passed over him. Lucas was aware of it also, +felt it in his very touch, marked it a hundred times in the gentleness of +his speech and action. He attributed it to the influence of a good woman. +It seemed that Nap had found his soul at last. + +Bertie alone marked it with uneasiness, but Bertie was no impartial +critic. He had distrusted Nap, not without reason, from his boyhood. But +matters of a more personal nature were occupying his attention at that +time, and he did not bestow much of it upon home affairs. For some reason +he had begun to study in earnest, and was reading diligently for the +English Bar. + +Perhaps Mrs. Errol could have pierced the veil of civilisation in which +Nap had wrapped himself had she desired to do so, but she was the last +person in the world to attempt such an invasion. There never had been the +faintest streak of sympathy between them. Neither was there any tangible +antagonism, for each by mutual consent avoided all debatable ground. But +there existed very curiously a certain understanding each of the other +which induced respect if it did not inspire confidence. Without +deliberately avoiding each other they yet never deliberately came in +contact, and, though perfectly friendly in their relations, neither ever +offered to cross the subtle dividing line that stretched between them. +They were content to be acquaintances merely. + +Anne often marvelled in private at Mrs. Errol's attitude towards her +adopted son, but the subject was never mentioned between them. Often she +would recall Capper's words and wonder if they had expressed the literal +truth. She wondered, too, what Capper would say to his ally when he +returned at the end of the summer and found the charge he had laid upon +her unfulfilled. But, after all, Capper was scarcely more than a +stranger, and it seemed to her, upon mature reflection, that he had been +inclined to exaggerate the whole matter. She did not believe that Lucas's +welfare depended upon Nap's absence. Indeed, there were times when it +actually seemed to her that he relied upon Nap for support that none +other could give. Moreover, he was growing daily stronger, and this of +itself seemed proof sufficient that Nap was at least no hindrance to his +progress. She knew also that Nap was using his utmost influence to +persuade him to undergo the operation when Capper should return in +September; but she had no opportunity for furthering his efforts, for +Lucas never referred to the matter in her hearing. If he had yet made his +decision he imparted it to none. He seemed to her to be like a soldier +awaiting orders to move, with that steadfast patience which had become +his second nature. She knew that he would never act upon impulse, and she +admired him for it. + +Dot, who heard all from Bertie, wondered how he could ever hesitate. But +Dot was young and possessed of an abundant energy which knew no flagging. +Her vigorous young life was full of schemes, and she knew not what it was +to stand and wait. She was keenly engaged just then in company with Mrs. +Damer, Mrs. Randal, and a few more, in organising an entertainment in +support of the Town Hall and Reading Club, to which Lucas Errol had +promised his liberal support. It was no secret that he had offered to +supply the whole of the necessary funds, but, as Dot remarked, it was not +to be a charity and Baronford was not so poor-spirited as to be entirely +dependent upon American generosity. So Lucas was invited to give his +substantial help after Baronford had helped itself, which Dot was fully +determined it should do to the utmost of its capacity. + +Many schemes were in consequence discussed and rejected before the Town +Hall Committee finally decided in favour of amateur theatricals. + +Here again Lucas Errol's assistance was cordially invited, since no place +suitable for such an entertainment existed in Baronford. It was naively +intimated to him by Dot that he might provide the theatre and the +scenery, so that the profits might be quite unencumbered. + +Lucas forthwith purchased an enormous marquee (the cost of which far +exceeded any possible profits from the projected entertainment), which +he had erected upon his own ground under Dot's superintendence, and +thenceforth preparations went gaily forward; not, however, without +many a hitch, which Lucas generally managed directly or indirectly to +smooth away. + +It was Lucas who pressed Nap into the service as stage-manager, a post +which had been unanimously urged upon himself, but for which he declared +himself to be morally and physically unfit. It was Lucas who persuaded +Anne to accept a minor _rôle_ though fully aware that she would have +infinitely preferred that of onlooker. He had taken her under his +protection on that night in March, and he had never relinquished the +responsibility then assumed. With a smile, as was his wont with all, he +asserted his authority, and with a smile, in common with all who knew +him, she yielded even against her own strong inclination. + +Nap laughed when he heard of it, despite the fact that he had himself +yielded to the same power. + +"You seem to find Luke irresistible," he said. + +"I do," she admitted simply. "He is somehow too magnificent to refuse. +Surely you have felt the same?" + +"I?" said Nap. "Oh, I always do what I am told. He rules me with a +rod of iron." + +Glancing at him, she had a momentary glimpse of a curious, wistful +expression on his face that made her vaguely sorry. + +Instinctively she went on speaking as if she had not seen it. "I think +with Bertie that he is a born king among men. He is better than good. He +is great. One feels it even in trifles. He has such an immense patience." + +"Colossal," said Nap, and smiled a twisted smile. "That is why he is +everybody's own and particular pal. He takes the trouble to find out +what's inside. One wonders what on earth he finds to interest him. +There's so mighty little in human nature that's worthy of study." + +"I don't agree with you," Anne said in her quiet, direct way. + +He laughed again and turned the subject. He was always quick to divine +her wishes, and to defer to them. Their intercourse never led them +through difficult places, a fact which Anne was conscious that she owed +to his consideration rather than to her own skill. + +She was glad for more than one reason that Lucas had not pressed a very +onerous part upon her. She had a suspicion, very soon confirmed, that Nap +as stage-manager would prove no indulgent task-master. He certainly would +not spare himself, nor would he spare anyone else. + +Disputes were rife when he first assumed command, and she wondered much +if he would succeed in establishing order, for he possessed none of his +brother's winning charm of manner and but a very limited popularity. But +Nap showed himself from the outset fully equal to his undertaking. He +grappled with one difficulty after another with a lightning alertness, a +prompt decision, which soon earned for him the respect of his unruly +subordinates. He never quarrelled, neither did he consider the feelings +of any. A cynical comment was the utmost he ever permitted himself in +the way of retaliation, but he held his own unerringly, evolving order +from confusion with a masterly disregard of opposition that carried all +before it. + +Dot, who was not without a very decided prejudice in favour of her own +way, literally gasped in astonishment at his methods. She would have +liked to defy him openly a dozen times in a day, but Nap simply would +not be defied. He looked over her head with disconcerting arrogance, and +Dot found herself defeated and impotent. Dot had been selected for an +important part, and it was not very long before she came bitterly to +regret the fact. He did not bully her, but he gave her no peace. Over and +over again he sent her back to the same place; and over and over again he +found some fresh fault, till there came at length a day when Dot, weary +and exasperated, subsided suddenly in the midst of rehearsal into +indignant tears. + +Nap merely raised his eyebrows and turned his attention elsewhere, while +Anne drew the sobbing girl away, and tried to soothe her back to +composure in privacy. + +But it was some time before Dot would be comforted. Her grievance against +Nap was very deeply rooted, and it needed but this additional provocation +to break its bounds. It was not long before, clinging very tightly to +Anne, the whole story came out; how she and Bertie loved each other +"better than best," how no one was to know of it and they scarcely dared +to exchange a glance in public in consequence, how there could never, +never be any engagement, all because that horrid, horrid Nap had dared to +hint that she was pursuing Bertie for his money. + +"I hate him!" sobbed Dot. "I do hate him! He's cruel and malicious and +vindictive. I know he means to prevent our ever being happy together. +And--and I know Bertie's afraid of him--and so am I!" + +To all of which Anne listened with grave sympathy and such words of +comfort as seemed most likely to induce in Dot a calmer and more +reasonable state of mind. + +But Dot was not to be reassured quickly. It was very seldom that her +equanimity was disturbed, only in fact when her deepest feelings were +concerned, and this made her breakdown the more complete. She +apologised tearfully for her foolishness at rehearsal, which she set +down to bodily fatigue. She had been to see poor Squinny that morning, +and she thought he really was dying at last. He had cried so, and she +hadn't known how to comfort him, and then when she had got home there +had been no time for luncheon, so she had just changed and come away +without it. And oh,--this with her arms tightly about Anne's neck--she +did wish she had a mother to help her. Poor Dad was very sweet, but he +didn't understand a bit. + +Anne sat with her for the greater part of an hour, comforting her with a +grave tenderness that Dot found infinitely soothing. It might have been +half a lifetime instead of a brief seven years that stretched between +them. For Anne had been a woman long before her time, and Dot for all her +self-reliance was still but a child. + +She grew calm at last, and presently reverted to the theatricals. Did +Lady Carfax think she might withdraw? Nap made her so nervous. She was +sure she could never be successful under his management. + +Anne strongly advised her not to think of such a thing. In consideration +of the fact that Dot had been the moving spirit of the whole scheme such +a proceeding would be little short of disastrous. No doubt a substitute +could be found, but it would mean an open breach with Nap. Bertie would +quarrel with him in consequence, and Lucas would be grievously +disappointed. + +"We mustn't hurt Lucas," Anne urged. "He has so much to bear already. +And--and he has been so much happier about Nap lately." + +"Does Nap worry him too, then?" asked Dot, quickly. "Isn't he hateful? +He upsets everybody." + +"No--no!" Anne said. "Nap would do anything for Lucas. It is his one +solid virtue." + +It was at this point that the door opened with a noiseless swing, and +Nap himself entered. He advanced with the assured air of one whose +welcome is secure. + +"Give the devil his due, Lady Carfax!" he drawled. "He has one +other anyway." + +Even Anne was for the moment disconcerted by the abruptness of his +entrance. Dot sprang to her feet with burning cheeks. It was her evident +intention to escape, but he intercepted her. + +"My business is with you," he said, "not with Lady Carfax. Do you mind +waiting a minute?" + +Dot waited, striving for dignity. Nap was looking at her narrowly. + +In the pause that ensued, Anne rose and passed her arm reassuringly +through Dot's. + +Nap glanced at her. "That's rather shabby of you," he declared. "I was +just going to ask for your support myself." + +She smiled at him faintly. "I think you can manage without it. Dot will +not refuse her forgiveness if you ask for it properly." + +"Won't she?" said Nap, still keenly watching the girl's half-averted +face. "I should if I were Dot. You see our feud is of very long standing. +We always cut each other when we meet in the street--very pointedly so +that no one could possibly imagine for a moment that we were strangers. +We don't like doing it in the least, but we are both so infernally proud +that there is no alternative. And so we have got to keep it up all our +days, long after the primary reason for it all has sunk into oblivion. By +the way, I have forgotten already what the primary reason was." + +"I--haven't," said Dot, in a very low voice. Her lower lip was quivering. +She bit it desperately. + +"No?" said Nap. + +"No!" Dot turned her flushed face suddenly upon him. "You never meant me +to forget," she said, in a voice that shook beyond control. + +"It must have been something very venomous," he said. + +"It was!" she answered, fighting with, herself. "You--you know it was!" + +"It's not worth crying about anyway," said Nap. "My sting may be +poisonous, but it has never yet proved fatal. Tell me where the mischief +is, and p'r'aps I can remove it." + +He was smiling as he made the suggestion, smiling without malice, and, +though Dot could not bring herself to smile in return, she was none the +less mollified. + +"What was it?" he persisted, pressing his advantage. "Something beastly +I said or looked or did? I often do, you know. It's just my way. Do you +know what it was, Lady Carfax?" + +She nodded. "And I think you do too," she said. + +"I don't," he asserted, "on my honour." + +Dot looked incredulous. "Don't you remember that day in February," she +said, "the first day I ever came here--the day you accused me of--of +running after Bertie for--his money?" + +"Great Christopher!" said Nap. "You don't say you took me seriously?" + +"Of course I did," she said, on the verge of tears. "You--you were +serious too." + +"Ye gods!" said Nap. "And I've been wondering why on earth you and Bertie +couldn't make up your minds! So I've been the obstacle, have I? And +that's why you have been hating me so badly all this time--as if I were +the arch-fiend himself! By Jove!" He swung round on his heel. "We'll put +this right at once. Where's Bertie?" + +"Oh, no!" Dot said nervously. "No! Don't call him! He'll see I've been +crying. Nap--please!" + +She disengaged herself from Anne, and sprang after him, seizing him +impetuously by the arm. + +"I mean--Mr. Errol!" she substituted in confusion. + +He clapped his hand upon hers and wheeled. "You can call me anything +under the sun that occurs to you as suitable," he said. "You may kick me +also if you like--which is a privilege I don't accord to everybody. You +won't believe me, I daresay. Few people do. But I'm sorry I was a beast +to you that day. I don't deal in excuses, but when I tell you that I was +rather badly up against something, p'r'aps you'll be magnanimous enough +to forgive me. Will you?" + +He looked her straight in the face with the words. There was little of +humility about him notwithstanding them, but there was something of +melancholy that touched her warm heart. + +"Of course I will!" she said impulsively. "Let's be friends, shall we?" + +He gripped her hand till she felt the bones crack. "Suppose we go and get +some tea," he said. "Are you coming, Lady Carfax?" + +"I'm not fit to be seen," objected Dot, hanging back. + +He drew her on, her hand still fast in his. "Don't be shy, my dear +girl! You look all right. Will you lead the way, Lady Carfax? In the +hall, you know." + +Very reluctantly Dot submitted. She had not the faintest inkling of his +intentions or her docility would have vanished on the instant. As it was, +fortified by Anne's presence, she yielded to his insistence. + +The hall was full of people to whom Mrs. Errol was dispensing tea, +assisted by Bertie, who had emerged from his den for the purpose. +Bertie's studies did not permit him to take any part in the theatricals. +Possibly Nap's position at the head of affairs had assisted his +resolution in this respect. + +He was sitting on the arm of Lucas's chair, hastily gulping some tea in +an interval snatched from his ministrations, when Anne entered, closely +followed by Dot and his brother. Some instinct moved him to turn and +look, for in the general buzz of talk and laughter around him he could +have heard nothing of their approach. He looked, then stared, finally +stood up and set down his cup abruptly. + +As Nap came towards him, still holding Dot by the hand, he turned white +to the lips and moved forward. + +A sudden silence fell as they met. They were the centre of the crowd, the +centre of observation, the centre of an unseen whirlpool of emotions that +threatened to be overwhelming. + +And then with a smile Nap put an end to a tension of expectancy that had +become painful. + +"Hullo, Bertie!" he said, and smote him on the shoulder with a +vigorous hand. "I've just been hearing about your engagement, my dear +fellow. Congratulations! May you and Dot have the best of everything +all your lives!" + +Poor Dot would have fled had that been possible, but she was hedged in +too closely for that. Moreover, Nap had transferred her hand to Bertie's, +and the boy's warm grasp renewed her fainting courage. She knew he was as +amazed as she was herself at Nap's sudden move, and she determined that +she would stand by him at whatever cost. + +And after all, the difficult moment passed very quickly. People crowded +round them with kindly words, shook hands with them, chaffed them both, +and seemed to be genuinely pleased with the turn of events. Mrs. Errol +came forward in her hearty way and kissed them; and in the end Dot found +herself in Bertie's vacated place on the arm of Lucas's chair, with his +steady hand holding hers, and his quiet, sincere voice telling her that +he was "real glad that the thing was fixed up at last." + +Later Bertie took her home in the motor, and explained the situation to +the rector, who was mildly bewildered but raised no definite objection to +the announcement of the engagement. He was something of a philosopher, +and Bertie had always been a favourite of his. Nap in fact was the only +member of the Errol family for whom he did not entertain the most +sincere esteem; but, as Dot remarked that night, Nap was a puzzle to +everybody. It seemed highly probable after all that he carried a kind +heart behind his cynical exterior. She was sure that Lady Carfax thought +so, since she invariably treated him as an intimate friend. + +The rector admitted that she might be right, but after Dot had gone to +bed he leaned his elbow on his writing-table and sat long in thought. + +"I wonder," he murmured to himself presently, "I wonder if Lady Carfax +knows what she is doing. She really is too young, poor girl, to be so +much alone." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A QUESTION OF TRUST + + +The theatricals were arranged to take place on an evening in the +beginning of July, and for that one night Mrs. Errol persuaded Anne to +sleep at Baronmead. She would not consent to leave the Manor for longer, +for she still superintended much of the management of the estate and +overlooked the agent's work. She had begun to wonder if all her days +would be spent thus, for the reports which reached her regularly of her +husband's state of health were seldom of a hopeful nature. In fact they +varied very little, and a brain specialist had given it as his opinion +that, though it was impossible to speak with certainty, Sir Giles might +remain in his present condition of insanity for years, even possibly for +as long as he lived. He was the last of his family, and the title would +die with him. And Anne wondered--often she wondered--if it were to be her +lot to live out the rest of her life alone. + +She did not mind solitude, nor was she altogether unhappy, but she was +too young not to feel now and then the deep stirrings of her youth. And +she had lived so little in all her twenty-five years of life. Yet with +that habit of self-control which had grown up with her, and which made +many think her cold, she would not suffer her thoughts to dwell upon past +or future. Her world was very small, and, as she had once told Nap, she +contented herself with "the work that was nearest". If it did not greatly +warm her heart, it kept her from brooding over trouble. + +On the morning of the day fixed for the theatricals he came over in the +motor to fetch her. It was a glorious day of summer, and Anne was in the +garden. He joined her there, and they walked for awhile in the green +solitudes, talking of the coming entertainment. + +They came in their wanderings to the seat under the lilac trees. She +wondered afterwards if he had purposely directed their steps thither. +They had not been together there since that night when the lilac had been +in bloom, that night of perfect spring, the night when their compact had +been made and sealed. Did he think of it, she wondered as they passed. If +so, he made no sign, but talked on in casual strain as if she were no +more than the most casual of friends. Very faithfully he had kept his +part of the compact, so faithfully that when they were past she was +conscious of a sense of chill mingling with her relief. He had stifled +his passion for her, it seemed, and perhaps it was only by comparison +that his friendship felt so cold and measured. + +She was glad when they reached Baronmead at length. It was like going +into sudden sunshine to enter Lucas's presence and feel the warmth of his +welcome about her heart. She stayed long talking with him. Here was a +friend indeed, a friend to trust, a friend to confide in, a friend to +love. He might be "everybody's own and particular pal," as Nap had said, +but she knew intuitively that this friend of hers kept a corner for her +that was exclusively her own, a safe refuge in which she had found +shelter for the first time on that night that seemed so long ago when he +had held her in his arms and comforted her as though he had been a woman, +and which she knew had been open to her ever since. + +There was a final rehearsal in the afternoon which went remarkably +smoothly. Anne's part was not a lengthy one, and as soon as it was over +she went back to the house in search of Mrs. Errol. She had left +directions for her letters to be sent after her, and she found two or +three awaiting her in the hall. She picked them up, and passed into the +music-room. + +Here she found Lucas reading some correspondence of his own. + +He looked up with a smile. "Oh, Lady Carfax! I was just thinking of you. +I have a letter here from my friend Capper. You remember Dr. Capper?" + +"Very well indeed," she said, stifling a sudden pang at the name. + +He lay motionless in his chair, studying her with those shrewd blue eyes +that she never desired to avoid. "I believe Capper took you more or less +into his confidence," he said. "It's a risky thing for a doctor to do, +but he is a student of human nature as well as human anatomy. He +generally knows what he is about. Won't you sit down?" + +She took the seat near him that he indicated. Somehow the mention of +Capper had made her cold. She was conscious of a shrinking that was +almost physical from the thought of ever seeing him again. + +"Capper wants to have the shaping of my destiny," Lucas went on +meditatively. "In other words, he wants to pull me to pieces and make a +new man of me. Sometimes I am strongly tempted to let him try. At other +times," he was looking at her fully, "I hesitate." + +She put her shrinking from her and faced him. "Will you tell me why?" + +"Because," he said slowly, "I have a fear that I might be absent +when wanted." + +"But you are always wanted," she said quickly. + +He smiled. "Thank you, Lady Carfax. But that was not my meaning. I think +you understand me. I think Capper must have told you. I am speaking with +regard to--my brother Nap." + +He spoke the last words very deliberately. He was still looking at her +kindly but very intently. She felt the blood rush to her heart. For the +first time her eyes fell before his. + +He went on speaking at once, as if to reassure her, to give her time. +"You've been a stanch friend to him, I know, and you've done a big thing +for him. You've tamed him, shaped him, made a man of him. I felt your +influence upon him before I ever met you. I sensed your courage, your +steadfastness, your goodness. But you are only a woman, eh, Lady Carfax? +And Rome wasn't built in a day. There may come a time when the savage +gets the upper hand of him again. And then, if I were not by to hold him +in, he might gallop to his own or someone else's destruction. That is +what I have to think of before I decide." + +"But--can you always hold him?" Anne said. + +"Always, Lady Carfax." Very quietly, with absolute confidence, came the +reply. "You may put your last dollar on that, and you won't lose it. We +settled that many years ago, once and for all. But I've been asking +myself lately if I need be so anxious, if possibly Rome may be nearer +completion than I imagine. Is it so? Is it so? I sometimes think you know +him better than I do myself." + +"I!" Anne said. + +"You, Lady Carfax." + +With an effort she looked up. His eyes were no longer closely studying +her. He seemed to be looking beyond. + +"If you can trust him," he said quietly, "I know that I can. The question +is--Can you?" + +He waited very quietly for her answer, still not looking at her. But it +was long in coming. + +At last. "I do not feel that I know him as I once did," she said, her +voice very low, "nor is my influence over him what it was. But I think, +if you trust him, he will not disappoint you." + +The kindly eyes rested upon her again for a moment, but he made no +comment upon the form in which she had couched her reply. + +He merely, after the briefest pause, smiled and thanked her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A SUDDEN BLOW + + +Anne found herself the first to enter the drawing room that night before +dinner. It was still early, barely half-past seven. The theatricals were +to begin at nine. + +She had her unopened letters with her, and she sat down to peruse them by +an open window. The evening sun poured full upon her in fiery splendour. +She leaned her head against the woodwork, a little wearied. + +She opened the first letter mechanically. Her thoughts were wandering. +Without much interest she withdrew it from the envelope, saw it to be +unimportant, and returned it after the briefest inspection. The next was +of the same order, and received a similar treatment. The third and last +she held for several seconds in her hand, and finally opened with obvious +reluctance. It was from a doctor in the asylum in which her husband had +been placed. Slowly her eyes travelled along the page. + +When she turned it at length her hands were shaking, shaking so much +that the paper rattled and quivered like a living thing. The writing +ended on the further page, but before her eyes reached the signature the +letter had fallen from her grasp. Anne, the calm, the self-contained, the +stately, sat huddled in her chair--a trembling, stricken woman, with her +hands pressed tightly over her eyes, as if to shut out some dread vision. + +In the silence that followed someone entered the room with a light, +cat-like tread, and approached the window against which she sat. But so +overwhelmed was she for the moment that she was unaware of any presence +till Nap's voice spoke to her, and she started to find him close to her, +within reach of her hand. + +She lifted her white face then, while mechanically she groped for the +letter. It had fallen to the ground. He picked it up. + +"What is it?" he said, and she thought his voice sounded harsh. "You have +had bad news?" + +She held out her hand for the letter. "No, it is good. I--am a little +tired, that's all." + +"That is not all," he said, and she heard the dogged note in his +voice that she had come to know as the signal of indomitable +resolution. He sat down on the window seat close to her, still +keeping the letter in his hand. + +She made a little hopeless gesture and sat silent, striving for +composure. She knew that during the seconds that followed, his eyes never +stirred from her face. It was his old trick of making her feel the +compulsion of his will. Often before she had resisted it. To-night she +was taken at a disadvantage. He had caught her unarmed. She was +powerless. + +She turned her head at last and spoke. "You may read that letter," she +said. + +The thin lips smiled contemptuously for an instant. "I have read it +already," he said. + +She started slightly, meeting his eyes. "You have read it?" + +"In your face," he told her coolly. "It contains news of the man you call +your husband. It is to say he is better--and--coming--home." + +He spoke the last words as though he were actually reading them one by +one in her tragic eyes. + +"It is an experiment," she whispered. "He wishes it himself, it seems, +and they think the change might prove beneficial. He is decidedly +better--marvellously so. And he has expressed the desire to see me. Of +course"--she faltered a little--"I should not be--alone with him. There +would be an attendant. But--but you mustn't think I am afraid. It wasn't +that. Only--only--I did not expect it. It has come rather suddenly. I am +not so easily upset as a rule." + +She spoke hurriedly, almost as though she were pleading with him to +understand and to pardon her weakness. + +But her words quivered into silence. Nap said nothing whatever. He +sat motionless, the letter still in his hand, his eyes unswervingly +fixed upon her, + +That sphinx-like stare became unbearable at last. She gathered her +strength and rose. + +"You came upon me at an unlucky moment," she said. "Please forget it." + +He still stared at her stonily without moving or speaking. Something that +was almost fear gripped her. The very stillness of the man was in a +fashion intimidating. + +She stood before him, erect, and at least outwardly calm. "May I have my +letter?" she said. + +The words were a distinct command, and after a very decided pause he +responded to it. He rose with a quick, lithe movement, and handed her the +letter with a brief bow. + +An instant later, while she still waited for him to speak, he turned on +his heel and left her. + +Very soon after, Mrs. Errol came in, and then one after another those who +were staying in the house for the entertainment. But Anne had commanded +herself by that time. No one noticed anything unusual in her demeanour. + +Nap was absent from the dinner--table. Someone said that he was +superintending some slight alteration on the stage. It was so ordinary an +occurrence for him to fail to appear at a meal that no one was surprised. +Only Anne covered a deep uneasiness beneath her resolute serenity of +manner. She could not forget that basilisk stare. It haunted her almost +to the exclusion of everything else. She had no thought to spare for the +letter regarding her husband. She could only think of Nap. What had that +stare concealed? She felt that if she could have got past those baffling, +challenging eyes she would have seen something terrible. + +Yet when she met him again she wondered if after all she had disquieted +herself for nought. He was standing at the stage-entrance to the +marquee, discussing some matter with one of the curtain-pullers when she +arrived. He stood aside for her to pass, and she went by quickly, +avoiding his eyes. + +She kept out of his way studiously till her turn came, then perforce she +had to meet him again, for he was stationed close to the opening on to +the stage through which she had to pass. For the moment there was no one +else at hand, and she felt her heart beat thick and fast as she waited +beside him for her cue. + +He did not speak to her, did not, she fancied, even look at her; but +after a few dumb seconds his hand came out to hers and held it in a +close, sinewy grip. Her own was nerveless, cold as ice. She could not +have withdrawn it had she wished. But she did not wish. That action of +his had a strange effect upon her, subtly calming her reawakened doubts. +She felt that he meant to reassure her, and she suffered herself to be +reassured. + +Later, she marvelled at the ingenuity that had so successfully blinded +her, marvelled at herself for having been so blinded, marvelled most of +all at the self-restraint that could so shackle and smother the fierce +passion that ran like liquid fire in every vein as to make her fancy that +it had ceased to be. + +When her turn came at length she collected herself and left him +with a smile. + +She went through her part very creditably, but she was unspeakably +thankful when it was over. + +"You are tired, Lady Carfax," Lucas murmured, when at length she found +her way to the seat beside him that he had been reserving for her. + +"A little," she admitted. + +And then suddenly the impulse to tell him the primary cause of her +trouble came upon her irresistibly. She leaned towards him and spoke +under cover of the orchestra. + +"Mr. Errol, I have had news of--my husband. He wants to come home. No, he +is not well yet, but decidedly better, well enough to be at liberty in +the charge of an attendant. And so--and so--" + +The whispered words failed. She became silent, waiting for the steady +sympathy for which she knew she would never wait in vain. + +But he did not speak at once. It almost seemed as if he were at a loss. +It almost seemed as if he realised too fully for speech that leaden +weight of despair which had for a space so terribly overwhelmed her. + +And then at last his voice came to her, slow and gentle, yet with a vital +note in it that was like a bugle-call to her tired spirit. "Stick to it, +Lady Carfax! You'll win out. You're through the worst already." + +Desperately, as one half-ashamed, she answered him. "I wish with all my +heart I could think so. But--I am still asking myself if--if there is no +way of escape." + +He turned his head in the dim light and looked at her, and shame stabbed +her deeper still. Yet she would not recall the words. It was better that +he should know, better that he should not deem her any greater or +worthier than she was. + +Then, "Thank you for telling me," he said very simply. "But you'll win +out all the same. I have always known that you were on the winning side." + +The words touched her in a fashion not wholly accountable. Her eyes +filled with sudden tears. + +"What makes you have such faith in me?" she said. + +The light was too dim for her so see his face, but she knew that he was +smiling as he made reply. + +"That's just one of the things I can't explain," he said. "But I think +God made you for a spar for drowning men to cling to." + +She smiled with him in spite of the tears. "May the spar never fail +you!" she said. + +"I am not afraid," he answered very steadily. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BOON + + +It was long before Anne slept that night, but yet though restless she was +not wholly miserable. Neither was she perplexed. Her duty lay before her +clearly defined, and she meant to fulfil it. Those few words with Lucas +Errol had decided her beyond all hesitancy, so completely was she in +sympathy with this strong friend of hers. Perhaps her wavering had only +been the result of a moment's weakness, following upon sudden strain. But +the strain had slackened, and the weakness was over. She knew that even +Nap had not the power to move her now. With the memory of his firm +hand-grip came the conviction that he would not seek to do so. Like +herself he had been momentarily dismayed it might be, but he had taken +his place among her friends, not even asking to be foremost, and +remembering this, she resolutely expelled any lingering doubt of him. Had +she not already proved that she had but to trust him to find him +trustworthy? What tangible reason had he given her for withdrawing her +trust even for a moment? She reproached herself for it, and determined +that she would never doubt him again. + +But yet sleep was long in coming to her. Once when it seemed near, the +hooting of an owl near the open window drove it away; and once in the +vague twilight before the dawn she started awake to hear the sharp +thudding of a horse's hoofs galloping upon the turf not very far away. +That last set her heart a-beating, she could not have said wherefore, +save that it reminded her vaguely of a day in the hunting-field that had +ended for her in disaster. + +She slept at last and dreamed--a wild and fearful dream. She dreamed that +she was on horseback, galloping, galloping, galloping, in headlong flight +from someone, she knew not whom, but it was someone of whom she was +unspeakably afraid. And ever behind her at break-neck speed, gaining +upon her, merciless as fate, galloped her pursuer. It was terrible, it +was agonising, yet, though in her heart she knew it to be a dream, she +could not wake. And then, all suddenly, the race was over. Someone drew +abreast of her. A sinewy hand gripped her bridle-rein. With a gasping cry +she turned to face her captor, and saw--a Red Indian! His tigerish eyes +gazed into hers. He was laughing with a fiendish exultation. The eagle +feathers tossed above his swarthy face. It came nearer to her; it glared +into her own. And suddenly recognition stabbed her like a sword. It was +the face of Nap Errol.... + +He was on the stairs talking to Hudson, the valet, when she descended to +breakfast, but he turned at once to greet her. + +"I am sorry to say Lucas has had a bad night. He will keep his room +to-day. How have you slept, Lady Carfax?" + +She answered him conventionally. They went downstairs together. + +Bertie was in the hall studying a newspaper. He came forward, scowling +heavily, shook hands with Anne, and immediately addressed his brother. + +"I've just come in from the stable. Have you been out all night? You've +nearly ridden the mare to death." + +Anne glanced at Nap instinctively. He was smiling. "Don't vex yourself, +my good Bertie," he said. "The mare will be all right after a feed." + +"Will she?" growled Bertie. "She is half dead from exhaustion anyway." + +"Oh, skittles!" said Nap, turning to go. + +The boy's indignation leaped to a blaze. "Skittles to you! I know what +I'm saying. And if you're not ashamed of yourself, you damned well +ought to be!" + +Nap stopped. "What?" he drawled. + +Bertie glared at him and subsided. The explosion had been somewhat more +violent than he had intended. + +Very quietly Nap stepped up to him. "Will you repeat that last remark +of yours?" + +Bertie was silent. + +"Or do you prefer to withdraw it?" + +Bertie maintained a dogged silence. He was fidgeting with the paper in a +fashion that seemed to indicate embarrassment. + +"Do you withdraw it?" Nap repeated, still quiet, still slightly drawling. + +Bertie hunched his shoulders like a schoolboy. "Oh, get away, Nap!" he +growled. "Yes--sorry I spoke. Now clear out and leave me alone!" + +Anne was already at the further end of the hall, but Nap overtook her +before she entered the breakfast room. He opened the door for her, and as +she passed him she saw that he was still faintly smiling. + +"Pardon the _contretemps_!" he said. "You may have noticed before that I +am not particularly good at swallowing insults." + +"I wonder if there was a cause for it," she said, looking at him +steadily. "Remember, I know what your riding is like." + +He raised his eyebrows for a moment, then laughed. The room they entered +was empty. + +"No one down yet!" he observed. "Take a seat by the window. What will +you have?" + +He attended to her wants and his own, and finally sat down facing her. He +seemed to be in excellent spirits. + +"Please don't look so severe!" he urged. "Just as I am going to ask a +favour of you, too!" + +She smiled a little but not very willingly. "I don't like cruel people," +she said. "Cruelty is a thing I can never forget because I abhor it so." + +"And are you never cruel?" said Nap. + +"I hope not." + +"I hope not, too," he rejoined, giving her a hard look. "But I sometimes +have my doubts." + +Anne looked out of the window in silence. + +The sharp rapping of his knuckles on the table recalled her. She turned, +slightly startled, and met his imperious eyes. He smiled at her. + +"Queen Anne, I crave a boon." + +Almost involuntarily she returned his smile. "So you said before." + +"And you don't even ask what it is." + +"I am not quite sure that I want to know, Nap," she said. + +"You are not liking me this morning," he observed. + +She made no answer. + +"What is it?" he said. "Is it the mare?" + +She hesitated. "Perhaps, in part." + +"And the other part?" He leaned forward, looking at her keenly. "Are you +afraid of me, Anne?" he said. + +His voice was free from reproach, yet her heart smote her. She reminded +herself of how he had once pleaded with her for her trust. + +"I'm sorry I pressed the mare," he said, "but it was quite as much her +fault as mine. Moreover, the cub exaggerated. I will fetch him in and +make him own it if you like." + +She stayed him with a gesture. "No, don't, please! I think Bertie was +probably in the right." + +"Do you, though?" Nap leaned back again, regarding her with supercilious +attention. "It's rather--daring of you to say so." + +"Do you really think I stand in awe of you?" she said. + +"You are such a truly remarkable woman," he made answer, "that I scarcely +know what to think. But since you are not afraid of me--apparently, +perhaps I may venture to come to the point. Do you know I have been +laying plans for a surprise picnic for you and--one other? It's such a +gorgeous day. Don't refuse!" + +The boyish note she liked to hear sounded suddenly in his voice. He +discarded his cynicism and leaned towards her again, eager, persuasive. + +"Don't refuse," he reiterated. "Look at the sunshine, listen to the +birds, think of a whole day in the open! I'll take you to the loveliest +place I know in this quaint little island, and I'll be your slave all day +long. Oh, I promise you won't find me in the way. Now don't look prudish. +Be a girl for once. Never mind the rest of creation. No one else will +know anything about it. We leave Baronmead this morning in the motor, and +who cares what time we reach the Manor? It can't matter to you or anyone. +Say you'll come! Say it!" + +"My dear Nap!" Anne looked at him dubiously, uncertain whether to take +him seriously. + +"Say it!" he repeated. "There is no earthly reason why you shouldn't. And +I'll take such care of you. Why shouldn't you have a real good time for +once? You never have had in all your life." + +True, only too true! But it was not that fact that made her waver. + +"Will you tell me what plans you have made for this picnic?" she asked +at length. + +He began to smile. "My plans, Lady Carfax, are entirely subject to your +approval. About forty miles from here there is a place called +Bramhurst--a place after your own heart--a paradise. With judicious +driving we could be there by one or soon after--in time for luncheon." + +"Yes?" she said, as he stopped. + +"That's all," said Nap. + +"But--afterwards?" she hazarded. + +"My dear Lady Carfax, if it is to be a surprise picnic, where's the use +of settling all the details beforehand?" Nap's tone was one of indulgent +protest; he was eating and drinking rapidly, as if he had an appointment +to keep. "My suggestion is that we then follow our inclinations--your +inclinations." He smiled at her again. "I am your slave till sunset." + +"Could we be back at the Manor by then?" she asked. + +"Of course we could." + +"Will you promise that we shall be?" She looked up at him seriously. + +He was still smiling. "If you ordain it," he said. + +"I must be back by dinner-time," she asserted. + +"And you dine?" + +"At eight." + +He pushed back his chair and rose. "Very discreet of you! The sun sets at +eight-ten. At what hour will you deign to be ready?" + +"At eleven," said Anne. + +He glanced at his watch. "I am afraid you can't see Lucas to say +good-bye. Hudson has just given him morphia." + +"Is he so bad then?" she asked quickly. + +"No worse than he has been before. Bad pain all night. He always fights +against taking the stuff. I persuaded him." He spoke shortly, as if the +subject were distasteful to him. "No doubt he is easier by this time," he +added. "Eleven o'clock then! I will go and get ready." But even then he +paused, his hand on the back of her chair. "Can you keep a secret?" he +asked lightly. + +She glanced up at him. "A secret?" + +"An it please you," he said, "let this be a secret between yourself and +your humble slave!" + +And with the words he turned with an air of finality and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DAY IN PARADISE + + +It was a day in the very heart of the summer, a day of cloudless skies +and wonderful, magic breezes, a day for the dreaming--and perchance for +the fulfilment--of dreams. Swift and noiseless as the swoop of a monster +bird the motor glided on its way; now rushing, now slackening, but never +halting. Sometimes it seemed to Anne that she sat motionless while the +world raced by her. She had often seen herself thus. And then with a +thrill of the pulses came the exultation of rapid movement, banishing the +illusion, while the very heart of her rejoiced in the knowledge thereof. +For this one day--for this one day--she had left the desert behind her. +She had yielded half against her judgment, but she knew no regret. On the +morrow she would be back in the waste places where, during all her +womanhood, she had wandered. But for this one day the roses bloomed for +her and she drank deep of their fragrance. It had come to her so +unexpectedly, so dazzlingly, this brief and splendid hour. She marvelled +at herself that she had hesitated even for a moment to accept it. + +Perhaps memories of another day came now and again to her as she leaned +back on the cushions and opened her soul to the sunshine, memories of a +day of sparkling winter which had begun in much the same genial +atmosphere and had ended in most hideous disaster. But if they came she +put them resolutely from her. There was no time to waste upon past or +future. For this one day she would drink the wine of the gods; she +would live. + +Nap drove in almost unbroken silence. He was wearing a mask, and she had +no clue to his thoughts; but she scarcely speculated about him. She did +not want to talk. She only desired to give herself up to the pure +pleasure of rapid movement. She had complete faith in his driving. If +daring, he was never reckless, with her beside him. + +The meadows were full of hay, and the scent of it lay like a spell upon +the senses. The whirr of the mowing machine filled the air with a lazy +droning. It was like a lullaby. And ever they sped on, through towns and +villages and hamlets, through woods and lanes and open country, sure and +swift and noiseless save for the cheery humming of the motor, which sang +softly to itself like a spinning top. + +They went through country of which Anne had no knowledge, but Nap seemed +fully acquainted with it; for he never paused to ask the way, never +raised his eyes to the finger-posts that marked the cross-roads. She +marvelled at his confidence, but asked no questions. It was not a day for +questions. + +Only when they emerged at last upon a wide moor, where the early heather +grew in tufts of deepest rose, she cried to him suddenly to stop. + +"I must get some of it. It is the first I have seen. Look! How +exquisite!" + +He drew up at the side of the long white road that zigzagged over the +moor, and they went together into the springy heath, wading in it after +the waxen flowers. + +And here Anne sat down in the blazing sunshine and lifted her clear eyes +to his. "I won't thank you, because we are friends," she said. "But this +is the best day I have ever had." + +He pushed up his goggles and sat down beside her. "So you are not sorry +you came?" he said. + +"I could not be sorry to-day," she answered. "How long have you known +this perfect place?" + +He lay back in the heather with his arms flung wide. "I came here first +one day in the spring, a day in May. The place was a blaze of gorse and +broom--as if it were on fire. It suited me--for I was on fire too." + +In the silence that succeeded his words he turned and leisurely +scrutinised her. She was snapping a stalk of heather with minute care. A +deep flush rose and spread over her face under his eyes. + +"Why don't you look at me?" he said. + +Very slowly her eyes came down to him. He was smiling in a secret +fashion, not as if he expected her to smile in return. The sunlight beat +down upon his upturned face. He blinked at her lazily and stretched every +limb in succession, like a cat. + +"Let me know when you begin to feel bored," he said. "I am quite ready to +amuse you." + +"I thought it was only the bores who were ever bored," she said. + +He opened his eyes a little. "Did I say that or did you?" + +She returned to her heather-pulling. "I believe you said it originally." + +"I remember," he returned composedly. "It was on the night you bestowed +upon me the office of court-jester, the night you dreamed I was the Knave +of Diamonds, the night that--" + +She interrupted very gently but very resolutely; "The night that we +became friends, Nap." + +"A good many things happened that night," he remarked, pulling off his +cap and pitching it from him. + +"Is that wise?" she said. "The sun is rather strong." + +He sat up, ignoring the warning. "Anne," he said, "have you ever dreamed +about me since that night?" + +She was silent, all her attention concentrated upon her bunch of heather. +His eyes left her face and began to study her hands. + +After a moment he pulled a bit of string out of his pocket and without +a word proceeded to wind it round the stalks she held. As he knotted +it he spoke. + +"So that is why you were afraid of me to-day. I knew there was something. +I winded it the moment we met. Whenever I hold your hand in mine I can +see into your soul. What was it, Anne? The Knave of Diamonds on a black +mare--riding to perdition?" + +He laughed at her softly as though she had been a child. He was still +watching her hands. Suddenly he laid his own upon them and looked +into her face. + +"Or was it just a savage?" he asked her quietly. + +Against her will, in spite of the blaze of sunshine, she shivered. + +"Yes," he said. "But isn't it better to face him than to run away? +Haven't you always found it so? You kissed him once, Anne. Do you +remember? It was the greatest thing that ever happened to him." + +He spoke with a gentleness that amazed her. His eyes held hers, but +without compulsion. He was lulling her fear of him to rest, as he +alone knew how. + +She answered him with quivering lips. "I have wondered since if I +did wrong." + +"Then don't wonder," he said. "For I was nearer to the God you worship +at that moment than I had ever been before. I never believed in Him till +then, but that night I wrestled with Him--and got beaten." He dropped +suddenly into his most cynical drawl, so that she wondered if, after +all, he were mocking her. "It kind of made an impression on me. I +thought it might interest you to know. Have you had enough of this yet? +Shall we move on?" + +She rose in silence. She was very far from certain, and yet she fancied +there had been a ring of sincerity in his words. + +As they reached the car she laid her hand for an instant on his arm. "If +it did that for you, Nap," she said, "I do not regret it." + +He smiled in his faint, cynical fashion. "I believe you'll turn me out a +good man some day," he said. "And I wonder if you will like me any when +it's done." + +"I only want you to be your better self," she answered gently. + +"Which is a myth," he returned, as he handed her in, "which exists only +in your most gracious imagination." + +And with that he pulled the mask over his face once more and turned to +the wheel. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE RETURN TO EARTH + + +It was nearly two before they reached Bramhurst and drew up before the +one ancient inn the place possessed. Upstairs, in a lattice-windowed room +with sloping floor and bulging ceiling, a room that was full of the scent +of honeysuckle, Anne washed away the dust of the road. Turning to the +mirror on the dressing-table when this was over, she stood a moment +wide-eyed, startled. Through her mind there swept again the memory of a +day that seemed very far away--a day begun in sunshine and ended in +storm, a day when she had looked into the eyes of a white-faced woman in +the glass and had shrunk away in fear. It was a very different vision +that now met her gaze, and yet she had a feeling that there was something +in it that remained unaltered. Was it in the eyes that shone from a face +so radiant that it might have been the face of a girl? + +She could not have said. Only after that one brief glimpse she +looked no more. + +Descending, she found Nap waiting for her in the oak-beamed coffee-room. +He made her sit facing the open window, looking forth upon hill and +forest and shallow winding river. + +The stout old English waiter who attended to their wants very +speedily withdrew. + +"He thinks we are on our wedding-trip," said Nap. + +She glanced at him sharply. + +"Yes, I let him have it so," he returned. "I never destroy a pretty +illusion if I can help it." + +"What time do we start back?" said Anne, aware of burning cheeks, which +he was studying with undisguised amusement. + +"Would you like some ice?" he suggested. + +She laughed, with something of an effort. "Don't be ridiculous, Nap!" + +"I am sure you have never done anything so improper in all your life +before," he went on. "What must it feel like? P'r'aps you would have +preferred me to explain the situation to him in detail? I will have him +in and do it now--if you really think it worth while. I shouldn't myself, +but then I seldom suffer from truthfulness in its most acute form. It's a +tiresome disease, isn't it? One might almost call it dashed inconvenient +on an occasion such as this. There is only one remedy that I can suggest, +and that is to pretend it's true." + +"I am not good at pretending," Anne answered gravely. + +He laughed. "Very true, O Queen! Horribly true! But I am, you know, a +positive genius in that respect. So I'm going to pretend I'm an +Englishman--of the worthy, thick-headed, bulldog breed. (I am sure you +admire it; you wouldn't be an Englishwoman if you didn't). And you are my +devoted and adorable wife. You needn't look shocked. It's all for the +sake of that chap's morals. Do you think I can do it?" + +"I don't want you to do it, Nap," she said earnestly. + +He dropped the subject instantly. "Your wish is law. There is only one +other person in this world who can command my implicit obedience in this +fashion. So I hope you appreciate your power." + +"And that other is Lucas?" said Anne. + +He nodded. "Luke the irresistible! Did you ever try to resist him?" + +She shook her head with a smile. + +"Take my advice then," he said. "Never do! He could whip creation with +his hands tied behind him. Oh, I know you all think him mild-tempered and +easy-going, more like a woman than a man. But you wait till you're hard +up against him. Then you'll know what I mean when I tell you he's +colossal." There was a queer ring of passion in his voice as he ended. It +sounded to Anne like the half-stifled cry of a wounded animal. + +Because of it she repressed the impulse to ask him what he meant. +Nevertheless, after a moment, as if impelled by some hidden force, he +continued. + +"There was a time when I thought of him much as you do. And then one day +there came a reckoning--an almighty big reckoning." He leaned back in his +chair and stared upwards, while the grim lines of his mouth tightened. +"It was down in Arizona. We fought a duel that lasted a day and a night. +He was a worse cripple in those days than he is now, but he won out--he +won out." Again came the cynical drawl, covering his actual feelings as +with an impenetrable veil. "I've had a kind of respect for him ever +since," he said. "One does, you know." + +"One would," said Anne, and again refrained from asking questions. + +She was thinking of the complete confidence with which Lucas had spoken +of his ascendency over this man. + +Finishing luncheon they went out over the common that stretched from the +very door, down the hill-side of short, sun-baked grass, passing between +masses of scorched broom, whose bursting pods crackled perpetually in the +sunshine, till they came to the green shade of forest trees and the gleam +of a running stream. + +The whirr of grasshoppers filled the air and the humming of insects +innumerable. Away in the distance sounded the metal clang of a cow-bell. +It was the only definite sound that broke the stillness. The heat was +intense. A dull, copper haze had risen and partially obscured the sun. + +Anne stopped on the edge of the stream. Wonderful dragon-flies such as +she had never seen before, peacock, orange and palest green, darted to +and fro above the brown water. Nap leaned against a tree close to her and +smoked a cigarette. + +She spoke at last without turning. "Am I in fairyland, I wonder?" + +"Or the Garden of Eden," suggested Nap. + +She laughed a little, and stooping tried to reach a forget-me-not that +grew on the edge of the water. + +"Beware of the serpent!" he warned. "Anyway, don't tumble in!" + +She stretched back a hand to him. "Don't let me go!" + +His hand closed instantly and firmly upon her wrist. In a moment she +drew back with the flower in her hand, to find his cigarette smouldering +on a tuft of moss. He set his foot upon it without explanation and +lighted another. + +"Ought we not to be starting back?" she asked. + +"It won't be so hot in half-an-hour," he said. + +"But how long will it take?" + +"It can be done in under three hours. If we start at half-past-four you +should be home well before sunset." + +He smiled with the words, and Anne suffered herself to be persuaded. +Certainly the shade of the beech trees was infinitely preferable to the +glare of the dusty roads, and the slumberous atmosphere made her feel +undeniably languorous. + +She sat down therefore on the roots of a tree, still watching the +dragon-flies flitting above the water. + +Nap stripped off his coat and made it into a cushion. "Lean back on this. +Yes, really. I'm thankful for the excuse to go without it. How is that? +Comfortable?" + +She thanked him with a smile. "I mustn't go to sleep." + +"Why not?" said Nap. "There is nothing to disturb you. I'm going back to +the inn to order tea before we start." + +He was off with the words with that free, agile gait of his that always +made her think of some wild creature of the woods. + +She leaned back with a sense of complete well-being and closed her +eyes.... + +When she opened them again it was with a guilty feeling of having been +asleep at a critical juncture. With a start she sat up and looked +around her. The sun-rays were still slanting through the wood, but +dully, as though they shone through a sheet of smoked glass. The +stillness was intense. + +A sharp sense of nervousness pricked her. There seemed to be something +ominous in the atmosphere; or was it only in her own heart that it +existed? And where was Nap? Surely he had been gone for a very long time! + +She rose stiffly and picked up his coat. At the same instant a shrill +whistle sounded through the wood, and in a moment she saw him coming +swiftly towards her. + +Quietly she moved to meet him. + +He began to speak before he reached her. "I was afraid you would be tired +of waiting and wander about till you got frightened and lost yourself. Do +you ever have hysterics?" + +"Never," said Anne firmly. + +He took his coat and began to wriggle into it, surveying her meantime +with a smile half-speculative, half-rueful. + +"Well, that's a weight off my mind, anyway," he remarked at length. +"For I have a staggering piece of news for you which I hardly dare to +impart. Oh, it's no good looking at your watch. It's hopelessly late, +nearly six o'clock, and in any case I can't get you home to-night. +There's no petrol." + +"Nap!" Anne's voice was a curious compound of consternation and relief. +Somehow--doubtless it was the effect of thunder in the atmosphere--she +had expected something in the nature of tragedy. + +Nap put on his most contrite air. "Do be a brick and take it nicely!" he +pleaded. "I know I was an all-fired fool not to see to it for myself. But +I was called away, and so I had to leave it to those dunderheads at the +garage. I only made the discovery when I left you a couple of hours ago. +There was just enough left to take me to Rodding, so I pelted off at once +to some motorworks I knew of there, only to find the place was empty. +It's a hole of a town. There was some game on, and I couldn't get a +conveyance anywhere. So I just put up the motor and came back across +country on foot. I don't see what else I could have done, do you?" + +Anne did not for the moment, but she was considering the situation too +rapidly to answer him. + +"My only consolation," he went on, "is that you have got a change of +raiment, which is more than I have. Oh, yes, I had the sense to think of +that contingency. Your bag is at the inn here, waiting for you." + +"You had better have taken me back with you to Rodding," Anne said. + +"Yes, I know. But I expected to be back in half an hour if all went well. +It's easy to be wise after the event, isn't it? I've thought of that +myself since." Nap picked up a twig and bit it viciously. "Anyway, there +is some tea waiting for us. Shall we go back?" + +Anne turned beside him. "Then what do you propose to do?" + +He glanced at her. "Nothing before morning, I'm afraid. There is no +vehicle to be had here. I will send someone down to Rodding in the +morning for a conveyance. We can take the train from there to Staps, +where I can get some petrol. We ought by that means to reach home +sometime in the afternoon. It is the only feasible plan, I am afraid; +unless you can suggest a better." + +He looked at her keenly, still biting at the twig between his teeth. + +Anne walked for several seconds in silence. At last, "Would it be quite +impossible to walk to Rodding now?" she asked. + +"Not at all," said Nap. "It is about eight miles through the woods. We +should be benighted, of course. Also I fancy there is a storm coming up. +But if you wish to make the attempt--" + +"I was only wondering," she said quietly, "if we could get an evening +train to Staps. That, I know, is on the main line. You could put up +there, and I could take the night train to town." + +"Oh, quite so," said Nap. "Shall we have tea before we start?" + +They had emerged from the wood and were beginning to climb the hill. The +veiled sunlight gave an unreal effect to the landscape. The broom bushes +looked ghostly. + +Anne gave an uneasy glance around. "I believe you are right about the +storm," she said. + +"I generally am right," observed Nap. + +They walked on. "I shouldn't like to be benighted in the woods," she said +presently. + +His scoffing smile showed for an instant. "Alone with me too! Most +improper!" + +"I was thinking we might miss the way," Anne returned with dignity. "I +wonder--shall we risk it?" + +She turned to him as if consulting him, but Nap's face was to the sky. +"That is for you to decide," he said. "We might do it. The storm won't +break at present." + +"It will be violent when it does," she said. + +He nodded. "It will." + +She quickened her steps instinctively, and he lengthened his stride. The +smile had ceased to twitch his lips. + +"Have you decided?" he asked her suddenly, and his voice sounded +almost stern. + +They were nearing the top of the hill. She paused, panting a little. +"Yes. I will spend the night here." + +He gave her a glance of approval. "You are a wise woman." + +"I hope so," said Anne. "I must telegraph at once to Dimsdale and tell +him not to expect me." + +Nap's glance fell away from her. He said nothing whatever. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN THE FACE OF THE GODS + + +"Thank the gods, we are the only guests!" said Nap that evening, as they +sat down to dine at the table at which they had lunched. + +The glare of a lurid sunset streamed across the sky and earth. There was +a waiting stillness upon all things. It was the hush before the storm. + +An unwonted restlessness had taken possession of Anne. She did not echo +his thanksgiving, an omission which he did not fail to note, but upon +which he made no comment. + +It was in fact scarcely a place for any but day visitors, being some +considerable distance from the beaten track. The dinner placed before +them was not of a very tempting description, and Anne's appetite dwindled +very rapidly. + +"You must eat something," urged Nap. "Satisfy your hunger with +strawberries and cream." + +But Anne had no hunger to satisfy, and she presently rose from the table +with something like a sigh of relief. + +They went into the drawing-room, a room smelling strongly of musk, and +littered largely with furniture of every description. Nap opened wide a +door-window that led into a miniature rosegarden. Beyond stretched the +common, every detail standing out with marvellous vividness in the weird +storm-light. + +"St. Christopher!" he murmured softly. "We are going to catch it." + +Anne sat down in a low chair near him, gazing forth in silence, her chin +on her hand. + +He turned a little and looked down at her, and thus some minutes slipped +away, the man as tensely still as the awe-stricken world without, the +woman deep in thought. + +He moved at last with a curious gesture as if he freed and restrained +himself by the same action. + +"Why don't you think out loud?" he said. + +She raised her eyes for a moment. "I was thinking of my husband," she +said. + +He made a sharp movement--a movement that was almost fierce--and again +seemed to take a fresh grip upon himself. His black brows met above his +brooding eyes. "Can't you leave him out of the reckoning for this one +night?" he asked. + +"I think not," she answered quietly. + +He turned his face to the sinking sun. It shone like a smouldering +furnace behind bars of inky cloud. + +"You told me once," he said, speaking with obvious constraint, "that you +did not think you would ever live with him again." + +She stifled a sigh in her throat. "I thought so then." + +"And what has happened to make you change your mind?" + +Anne was silent. She could not have seen the fire that leapt and darted +in the dusky eyes had she been looking at him, but she was not looking. +Her chin was back upon her hand. She was gazing out into the darkening +world with the eyes of a woman who sees once more departed visions. + +"I think," she said slowly at length, as he waited immovably for her +answer, "that I see my duty more clearly now than then." + +"Duty! Duty!" he said impatiently. "Duty is your fetish. You sacrifice +your whole life to it. And what do you get in return? A sense of virtue +perhaps, nothing more. There isn't much warming power in virtue. I've +tried it and I know!" He broke off to utter a very bitter laugh. "And so +I've given it up," he said. "It's a trail that leads to nowhere." + +Anne's brows drew together for an instant. "I hoped you might come to +think otherwise," she said. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "How can I? I've lived the life of a saint for +the past six months, and I am no nearer heaven than when I began. It's +too slow a process for me. I wasn't made to plough an endless furrow." + +"We all of us say that," said Anne, with her faint smile. "But do we +any of us really know what we were made for? Are we not all in the +making still?" + +He thrust out his chin. "I can't be abstruse tonight. I know what I +was made for, and I know what you were made for. That--anyway for +tonight--is all that matters." + +He spoke almost brutally, yet still he held himself as it were aloof. He +was staring unblinking into the sunset. Already the furnace was dying +down. The thunder-clouds were closing up. The black bars had drawn +together into one immense mass, advancing, ominous. Only through a single +narrow slit the red light still shone. + +Mutely they watched it pass, Anne with her sad eyes fixed and thoughtful, +Nap still with that suggestion of restrained activity as if he watched +for a signal. + +Gradually the rift closed, and a breathless darkness came. + +Anne uttered a little sigh. "I wish the storm would break," she said. "I +am tired of waiting." + +As if in answer, out of the west there rose a long low rumble. + +"Ah!" she said, and no more. + +For as if the signal had come, Nap turned with a movement +incredibly swift, a movement that was almost a spring, and caught her +up into his arms. + +"Are you tired of waiting, my Queen--my Queen?" he said, and there was a +note of fierce laughter in his words. "Then--by heaven--you shall wait +no longer!" + +His quick breath scorched her face, and in a moment, almost before she +knew what was happening, his lips were on her own. He kissed her as she +had never been kissed before--a single fiery kiss that sent all the blood +in tumult to her heart. She shrank and quivered under it, but she was +powerless to escape. There was sheer unshackled savagery in the holding +of his arms, and dismay thrilled her through and through. + +Yet, as his lips left hers, she managed to speak, though her voice was no +more than a gasping whisper. "Nap, are you mad? Let me go!" + +But he only held her faster, faster still. + +"Yes, I am mad," he said, and the words came quick and passionate, the +lips that uttered them still close to her own. "I am mad for you, Anne. I +worship you. And I swear that while I live no other man shall ever hold +you in his arms again. Anne--goddess--queen--woman--you are mine--you +are mine--you are mine!" + +Again his lips pressed hers, and again from head to foot she felt as if a +flame had scorched her. Desperately she began to resist him though +terribly conscious that he had her at his mercy. But he quelled her +resistance instantly, with a mastery that made her know more thoroughly +her utter impotence. + +"Do you think that you can hold me in check for ever?" he said. "I tell +you it only makes me worse. I am a savage, and chains of that sort won't +hold me. What is the good of fighting against fate? You have done it as +long as I have known you; but you are beaten at last. Oh, you may turn +your face from me. It makes no difference now. I've played for this, and +I've won! You have been goddess to me ever since the day I met you. +To-night--you shall be woman!" + +He broke into a low, exultant laugh. She could feel the fierce beating of +his heart, and her own died within her. The blaze of his passion ringed +her round like a forest fire in which all things perish. + +But even then she knew that somewhere, somewhere, there was a way of +escape, and with the instinct of the hunted creature she sought it. + +"To-night," she said, "I shall know whether you have ever really +loved me." + +"What?" he said. "You dare to question that now? Do you want to put me to +the proof then? Shall I show you how much I love you?" + +"No," she said. "Take your arms away!" + +She did not expect his obedience, but on the instant he spread them wide +and released her. + +"And now?" he said. + +She almost tottered, so amazing had been his compliance. And then as +swiftly--came the knowledge that he had not really set her free. It had +pleased him to humour her, that was all. He stood before her with all the +arrogance of a conqueror. And through the gathering darkness his eyes +shone like the eyes of a tiger--two flames piercing the gloom. + +She mustered all her strength to face him, confronting him with that +unconscious majesty that first had drawn him to her. + +"And now," she said, "let us once and for all understand one another." + +"What?" he said. "Don't you understand me yet? Don't you +realise--yet--that when a man of my stamp wants a woman he--takes her?" + +Again there throbbed in his voice that deep note of savagery, such +savagery as made her quail. But it was no moment for shrinking. She knew +instinctively that at the first sign of weakness he would take her back +into his arms. + +She straightened herself therefore, summoning all her pride. "Do you +really think I am the sort of woman to be taken so?" she asked. "Do you +really think I am yours for the taking? If so, then you have never known +me. Nor--till this moment--have I known you." + +He heard her without the faintest hint of astonishment or shame, standing +before her with that careless animal grace of his that made him in some +fashion superb. + +"Yes," he said, "I really do think you are mine for the taking this time, +but you will admit I've been patient. And I've taken the trouble to make +things easy for you. I've spirited you away without putting you through +any ordeals of hesitation or suspense. I've done it all quite +unobtrusively. To-morrow we go to London, after that to Paris, and after +that--whithersoever you will--anywhere under the sun where we can be +alone. As to knowing each other"--his voice changed subtly, became soft, +with something of a purring quality--"we have all our lives before us, +and we shall be learning every day." + +His absolute assurance struck her dumb. There was something implacable +about it, something unassailable--a stronghold which she felt powerless +to attack. + +"Doesn't that programme attract you?" he said, drawing nearer to her. +"Can you suggest a better? The whole world is before us. Shall we go +exploring, you and I, alone in the wilds, and find some Eden that no man +has ever trodden before? Shall we, Anne? Shall we? Right away from +everywhere, somewhere in the sun, where I can teach you to be happy and +you can teach me to be--good." + +But at his movement she moved also, drawing back. "No!" she said. Her +voice was low, but not lacking in strength. Having spoken, she went on +almost without effort. "You are building upon a false foundation. If it +were not so, I don't think I could possibly forgive you. As it is, I +think when you realise your mistake you will find it hard to forgive +yourself. I have treated you as a friend because I thought I could do so +with safety. I thought for the sake of my friendship you had given up all +thought of anything else. I thought you were to be trusted and I trusted +you. Oh, I admit I ought to have known you better. But I shall never +make that mistake again." + +"No," Nap said. "I don't think you will." + +He spoke deliberately; he almost drawled. Yet a sense of danger stabbed +her. His sudden coldness was more terrible than his heat. + +"But why say this to me now?" he said. "Do you think it will make any +difference?" + +He had not moved as he uttered the words, and yet she felt as if he +menaced her. He made her think of a crouching tiger--a tiger whose +devotion had turned to sudden animosity. + +She did not shrink from him, but her heart quickened. "It must make a +difference," she said. "You have utterly misunderstood me, or you would +never have brought me here." + +"Don't be too sure of that," he returned. "It may be that you can deceive +yourself more easily than you can deceive me. Or again, it may be that I +have come to the end of my patience and have decided to take by storm +what cannot be won by waiting." + +She drew herself up proudly. "And you call that--love!" she said, with a +scorn that she had never before turned against him. "You dare to call +that--love!" + +"Call it what you will!" he flashed back. "It is something that can crush +your cold virtue into atoms, something that can turn you from a marble +saint into a living woman of flesh and blood. For your sake I've +tried--I've agonised--to reach your level. And I've failed because I +can't breathe there. To-night you shall come down from your heights to +mine. You who have never lived yet shall know life--as I know +it--to-night!" + +Fiercely he flung the words, and the breath of his passion was like a +fiery blast blown from the heart of a raging furnace. But still she did +not shrink before him. Proud and calm she waited, bearing herself with a +queenly courage that never faltered. + +And it was as if she stood in a magic circle, for he raised no hand to +touch her. Without word or movement she kept him at bay. Erect, +unflinching, regal, she held her own. + +He caught his breath as he faced her. The beast in him slunk back afraid, +but the devil urged him forward. He came close to her, peering into her +face, searching for that weak place in every woman's armour which the +devil generally knows how to find. But still he did not offer to touch +her. He had let her go out of his arms when he had believed her his own, +and now he could not take her again. + +"Anne," he said suddenly, "where is your love for me? I will swear you +loved me once." + +"I never loved you," she answered, her words clear-cut, cold as steel. "I +never loved you. Once, it is true, I fancied that you were such a man as +I could have loved. But that passed. I did not know you in those days. I +know you now." + +"And hate me for what you know?" he said. + +"No," she answered. "I do not even hate you." + +"What then?" he gibed. "You are--sorry for me perhaps?" + +"No!" Very distinct and steady came her reply. "I only despise you now." + +"What?" he said. + +"I despise you," she repeated slowly, "knowing what you might be, and +knowing--what you are." + +The words passed out in silence--a silence so tense that it seemed as if +the world itself had stopped. Through it after many seconds came Nap's +voice, so softly that it scarcely seemed to break it. + +"It is not always wise to despise an enemy, Lady Carfax--especially if +you chance to be in that enemy's power." + +She did not deign to answer; but her gaze did not flinch from his, nor +did her pride waver. + +He drew something abruptly from his pocket and held it up before her. "Do +you see this?" + +She stirred then, ever so slightly, a movement wholly involuntary, +instantly checked. "Are you going to shoot me?" she asked. + +"I thought that would make you speak," he remarked. "And you still +despise me?" + +Her breathing had quickened, but her answer was instant; for the first +time it held a throb of anger. "I despise you for a coward. You are even +viler than I thought." + +He returned the weapon to his pocket. "It is not for you," he said. "I am +more primitive than that. It is for the man who stands between us, for +the man who thought he could whip Nap Errol--and live. I have never gone +unarmed since." + +He paused a moment, grimly regarding her. Then, "There is only one +thing I will take in exchange for that man's life," he said. +"Only--one--thing!" + +But she stood like a statue, uttering no word. + +A sudden gust of passion swept over him, lashing him to headlong fury. +"And that one thing I mean to have!" he told her violently. "No power in +heaven or hell shall keep you from me. I tell you"--his voice rose, and +in the darkness those two flames glowed more redly, such flames as had +surely never burned before in the face of a man--"whatever you may say, +you are mine, and in your heart you know it. Sooner or later--sooner or +later--I will make you own it." His voice sank suddenly to a whisper, no +longer passionate, only inexpressibly evil. "Will you despise me then, +Queen Anne? I wonder!--I wonder!" + +She moved at last, raised her hand, stiffly pointed. "Go!" she +said. "Go!" + +Yet for a space he still stood in the doorway, menacing her, a vital +figure, lithe, erect, dominant. The tension was terrible. It seemed to be +strained to snapping point, and yet it held. + +It was the fiercest battle she had ever known--a battle in which his will +grappled with hers in a mighty, all-mastering grip, increasing every +instant till she felt crushed, impotent, lost, as if all the powers of +evil were let loose and seething around her, dragging her down. + +Her resolution began to falter at last. She became conscious of a numbing +sense of physical weakness, an oppression so overwhelming that she +thought her heart would never beat again. Once more she seemed to totter +on the edge of a depth too immense to contemplate, to hover above the +very pit of destruction... + +And then suddenly the ordeal was over. A blinding flash of lightning lit +the room, glimmered weirdly, splitting the gloom as a sword rending a +curtain, and was gone. There came a sound like the snarl of a startled +animal, and the next instant a frightful crash of thunder. + +Anne reeled back, dazed, stunned, utterly unnerved, and sank into a +chair. + +When she came to herself she was alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AN APPEAL AND ITS ANSWER + + +A puff of rain-washed air wandered in through the wide-flung window, and +Lucas Errol turned his head languidly upon the pillow to feel it on his +face. He sighed as he moved, as if even that slight exertion cost him +some resolution. His eyes had a heavy, drugged look. They seemed more +deeply sunken than usual, but there was no sleep in them, only the utter +weariness that follows the sleep of morphia. + +At the soft opening of the door a faint frown drew his forehead, but it +turned to a smile as Bertie came forward with cautious tread. + +"That you, dear fellow? I am awake." + +Bertie came to his side, his brown face full of concern. "Are you better, +old chap?" + +"Yes, better, thanks. Only so dog-tired. Sit down. Have you brought +the budget?" + +"There's nothing much to-day. Only that chap Cradock writing again for +instructions about the Arizona ranch, and a few Wall Street tips from +Marsh by cable. Say, Luke, I don't think Cradock is overweighted with +spunk, never have thought so. Guess that ranch wants a bigger man." + +"I'll see his letter," said Lucas. "Presently will do. What about Marsh?" + +"Oh, he's behind the scenes as usual. You'd better read him now. The rest +will keep. When you've done that I want to talk to you." + +"So I gathered. Stuff in another pillow behind me, will you? I can think +better sitting up." + +"I shouldn't, old chap, really. You're always easier lying down." + +"Oh, shucks, Bertie! Do as you're told. And don't look at me like that, +you old duffer. It's a mean advantage to take of a sick man. Steady +now, steady! Go slow! You mustn't slam a creaking gate. It's bad for +the hinges." + +But notwithstanding Bertie's utmost care there were heavy drops on his +brother's forehead as he sank again upon his pillows. Bertie wiped them +away with a hand that trembled a little, and Lucas smiled up at him with +twitching lips. + +"Thanks, boy! It was only a twinge. Sit down again, and give me Marsh's +cipher and the morning papers. The letters you shall read to me +presently." + +He straightway immersed himself in business matters with the shrewdness +and concentration that ever aroused his young brother's deepest +admiration. + +"What a marvellous grip you've got on things, Luke!" he exclaimed at the +end of it. "No wonder you are always on the top! You're great, man, +you're great!" + +"I guess it's just my speciality," the millionaire said, with his weary +smile. "I must be getting another secretary soon, boy. It's a shame to +eat up your time like this. What is it you want to talk to me about? +Going to get married?" + +Bertie shook his head. "The padre won't hear of it yet, and Dot +herself--well, you know, I said I'd wait." + +"Don't wait too long," said Lucas quietly. "You shall have the old Dower +House to live in. Tell the padre that. It's only a stone's throw from the +Rectory. We'll build a garage too, eh, Bertie? The wife must have her +motor. And presently, when you are called to the Bar, you will want a +flat in town." + +"You're a brick, Luke!" the boy declared, with shining eyes. "Between +ourselves, I don't expect to do much at the Bar, but I'm sticking to it +just to show 'em I can work like the rest of creation. I'd sooner be your +secretary for all time, and you know it." + +"That so?" Lucas stretched a hand towards him. "But I guess you're right. +I don't want you to depend on me for employment. If I were to go out one +of these days you'd feel rather left. It's better you should have other +resources." + +"Luke, I say! Luke!" + +But the quick distress of the words was checked by the gentle restraint +of Lucas's hand. "I know! I know! But we've all got to die sooner or +later, and one doesn't want to tear a larger hole than one need. That's +all right, Bertie boy. We'll shunt the subject. Only, if you want to +please me, get that nice little girl to marry you soon. Now what was it +you wanted to say? Something about Nap?" + +"Yes. How did you know? It's an infernal shame to worry you when you're +not fit for it. But the mother and I both think you ought to know." + +"Go ahead, dear fellow! I'm tougher than you think. What has +become of Nap?" + +"That's just the question. You know he went off in the car with Lady +Carfax yesterday morning?" + +"I didn't know," murmured Lucas. "That's a detail. Go on." + +"Late last night the car had not returned, and the mother began to +wonder. Of course if Lady Carfax hadn't been there it wouldn't have +mattered much, but as it was we got anxious, and in the end I posted off +to the Manor to know if she had arrived. She had not. But while I was +there a wire came for the butler from a place called Bramhurst, which is +about fifty miles away, to say that the car had broken down and they +couldn't return before to-day. Well, that looked to me deuced queer. I'm +convinced that Nap is up to some devilry. What on earth induced her to +go there with him anyway? The mother was real bothered about it, and so +was I. We couldn't rest, either of us. And in the end she ordered the big +Daimler and went off to Bramhurst herself. I wanted to go with her, but +she wouldn't have me at any price. You know the mother. So I stopped to +look after things here. Everyone cleared off this morning, thank the +gods. I don't think anyone smelt a rat. I told them the mother had gone +to nurse a sick friend, and it seemed to go down all right." + +Lucas had listened to the recital with closed eyes and a perfectly +expressionless face. He did not speak for a few moments when Bertie +ended. At length, "And the mother is not back yet?" he asked. + +"No. But I'm not afraid for her. She knows how to hold her own." + +"That's so," Lucas conceded; and fell silent again. + +He was frowning a little as if in contemplation of some difficulty, but +his composure was absolute. + +"There may be nothing in it," he said at last. + +Bertie grunted. "I knew he was in a wild beast mood before they started. +He nearly rode the black mare to death in the early morning." + +"Why wasn't I told of that?" Lucas opened his eyes with the question and +looked directly at his brother's worried countenance. + +"My dear fellow, you were too sick to be bothered. Besides, you were +taking morphia. He saw to that." + +Lucas closed his eyes again without comment, A long pause ensued before +he spoke again. + +Then: "Bertie," he said, "go down to the garage and leave word that as +soon as Nap returns I want to speak to him." + +"He won't return," said Bertie, with conviction. + +"I think he will. It is even possible that he has returned already. In +any case, go and tell them. Ah, Tawny, what is it?" + +The valet came to his master's side. His hideous features wore an +expression that made them almost benign. The dumb devotion of an animal +looked out of his eyes. + +"A note, sir, from the Manor." + +"Who brought it?" asked Lucas. + +"A groom, sir." + +"Waiting for an answer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Lucas opened the note. It was from Anne. + +He read a few lines, then glanced at Bertie. "It's all right, Bertie. Go +and give that message, will you? Say it's important--an urgent matter of +business." + +Bertie departed, and Lucas's eyes returned to the sheet he held. + +Tawny Hudson stood motionless beside him, and several silent seconds +ticked away. His master spoke at length. + +"Pen and paper, Tawny. Yes, that's right. Now put your arm behind the +pillows and give me a hoist. Slowly now, slowly!" + +And then, as the man supported him, very slowly and unsteadily he traced +a few words. + +"Don't worry. All's well.--Lucas." + +Abruptly the pen fell from his fingers; his head dropped back. His face +was drawn and ghastly as he uttered a few gasping whispers. "Tawny, give +me something--quick! This pain is--killing me!" + +The man lowered him again, and took a bottle from a side-table. As he +measured some drops into a glass the only sound in the room was his +master's agonised breathing. + +Yet he knew without turning that someone had entered, and he betrayed no +surprise when Nap's hand suddenly whisked the glass from his hold and +held it to the panting lips. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE IRRESISTIBLE + + +The first words Lucas uttered when utterance became possible to him were, +"No morphia!" + +Nap was deftly drawing away the pillows to ease his position. "All right, +old fellow," he made answer. "But you know you can't sit up when you are +like this. What possessed you to try?" + +"Business," murmured Lucas. "Don't go again, Boney. I want you." + +"So I've been told. I am quite at your service. Don't speak till you +feel better." + +"Ah! I am better now. There's magic about you, I believe. Or is it +electricity?" Lucas's eyes rested on the grim face above him with a +certain wistfulness. + +Nap only smiled cynically. "Is Hudson to take this note? Can I address +it for you?" + +If he expected to cause any discomfiture by the suggestion he was +disappointed. Lucas answered him with absolute composure. + +"Yes; to Lady Carfax at the Manor. It is to go at once." + +Nap thrust it into an envelope with a perfectly inscrutable countenance, +scrawled the address, and handed it to the valet. "You needn't come back +till you are rung for," he said. + +And with that he calmly seated himself by his brother's side with the air +of a man with ample leisure at his disposal. + +As the door closed he spoke. "Hadn't you better have a smoke?" + +"No. I must talk first. I wish you would sit where I can see you." + +Nap pulled his chair round at once and sat in the full glare of the +noonday sun. "Is that enough lime-light for you? Now, what ails the great +chief? Does he think his brother will run away while he sleeps?" + +There was a hint of tenderness underlying the banter in his voice. He +stooped with the words and picked up a letter that lay on the floor. +"This yours?" + +Lucas's half-extended hand fell. "And you may read it," he said. + +"Many thanks! I don't read women's letters unless they chance to be +addressed to me--no, not even if they concern me very nearly." Nap's +teeth gleamed for a moment. "I'm afraid you must play off your own bat, +my worthy brother, though if you take my advice you'll postpone it. +You're about used up, and I'm deuced thirsty. It's not a peaceful +combination." + +Again, despite the nonchalance of his speech, it was not without a +certain gentleness. He laid the letter on the bed within reach of his +brother's hand. + +"I won't leave the premises till you have had your turn," he said. "I +guess that's a fair offer anyway. Now curl up and rest." + +But Lucas negatived the suggestion instantly though very quietly. "I'll +take my turn now if you've no objection. That ranch in Arizona, Boney, is +beginning to worry me some. I want you to take it in hand. It's a little +job peculiarly suited to your abilities." + +Nap jerked up his head with an odd gesture, not solely indicative of +surprise. "What do you know of my abilities?" + +"More than most." Very steadily Lucas made answer. "I depend on you in a +fashion you little dream of, and I guess you won't fail me." + +Nap's jaw slowly hardened. "I'm not very likely to disappoint you," he +observed, "more especially as I have no intention of removing to Arizona +at present." + +"No?" + +"No." + +"Not if I make a point of it?" Lucas spoke heavily, as if the effort of +speech were great. His hand had clenched upon Anne's letter. + +Nap leaned forward without replying, the sunlight still shining upon his +face, and looked at him attentively. + +"Yes," Lucas said very wearily. "It has come to that. I can't have you +here disturbing the public peace. I won't have my own brother arraigned +as a murderer. Nor will I have Anne Carfax pilloried by you for all +England to throw mud at. I've stood a good deal from you, Boney, but I'm +damned if I'm going to stand this." + +"The only question is, Can you prevent it?" said Nap, without the +faintest change of countenance. + +"I am going to prevent it." + +"If you can." + +"I am going to prevent it," Lucas repeated. "Before we go any further, +give me that shooter of yours." + +Nap hesitated for a single instant, then, with a gesture openly +contemptuous, he took the revolver from his pocket and tossed it on +to the bed. + +Lucas laid his hand upon it. He was looking full into Nap's face. "Now, I +want you to tell me something," he said. "I seem to remember your saying +to me once in this very room that you and Lady Carfax were friends, no +more, no less. You were mighty anxious that I shouldn't misunderstand. +Remember that episode?" + +"Perfectly," said Nap. + +"I surmised that you told me that because you honestly cared for her as a +friend. Was that so?" + +Nap made a slight movement, such a movement as a man makes when he +catches sight of a stone to his path too late to avoid it. + +"You may say so if you wish," he said. + +"Meaning that things have changed since then?" questioned Lucas, in his +tired drawl. + +Nap threw up his head with the action of a jibbing horse. "You can put it +how you like. You can say--if you like--that I am a bigger blackguard now +than I was then. It makes no difference how you put it." + +"But I want to know," said Lucas quietly. "Are you a blackguard, Boney?" + +His eyes were fixed steadily upon the dusky face with its prominent +cheek-bones and mocking mouth. Perhaps he knew, what Anne had discovered +long before, that those sensitive lips might easily reveal what the +fierce eyes hid. + +"A matter of opinion," threw back Nap. "If I am, Anne Carfax has +made me so." + +"Anne Carfax," said Lucas very deliberately, "has done her best to make a +man of you. It is not her fault if she has failed. It is not her fault +that you have chosen to drag her friendship through the mire." + +"Friendship!" broke in Nap. "She gave me more than that." + +Lucas's brows contracted as if at a sudden dart of pain, but his voice +was perfectly level as he made reply: "Whatever she gave you was the gift +of a good woman of which you have proved yourself utterly unworthy." + +Nap sprang to his feet. "Be it so!" he exclaimed harshly. "I am unworthy. +What of it? She always knew I was." + +"Yet she trusted you." + +"She trusted me, yes. Having cast out the devil she found in possession, +she thought there was nothing more to me. She thought that I should be +content to wander empty all my days through dry places, seeking rest. She +forgot the sequel, forgot what was bound to happen when I found none. You +seem to have forgotten that too. Or do you think that I am indeed that +interesting vacuum that you are pleased to call a gentleman?" He flung +his arms wide with a sudden, passionate laugh. "Why, my good fellow, I'd +sooner rank myself with the beasts that perish. And I'd sooner perish +too; yes, die with a rope round my throat in the good old English +fashion. There's nothing in that. I'd as soon die that way as any other. +It may not be so artistic as our method, but it's quite a clean process, +and the ultimate result is the same." + +"Do you mind sitting down?" said Lucas. + +Nap looked at him sharply. "In pain again?" + +"Sit down," Lucas reiterated. "You can't do anything more than that. Now +will you take the trouble to make me understand what exactly are your +present intentions, and why?" + +"Doesn't that letter tell you?" said Nap. + +"This letter," Lucas answered, "is the desperate appeal of a very unhappy +woman who is in mortal dread of your murdering her husband." + +"That all?" said Nap. The red glare of savagery flickered for an instant +in his eyes. "She has no fears on her own account then?" + +"Will you explain?" + +"Oh, certainly, if you need explanation. I mean that the death of Sir +Giles Carfax is no more than a stepping-stone, a means to an end. So long +as he lives, he will stand in my way. Therefore Sir Giles will go. And +mark me, any other man who attempts to come between us I will kill also. +Heaven knows what there is in her that attracts me, but there is +something--something I have never seen in any other woman--something that +goes to my head. Oh, I'm not in love with her. I'm long past that stage. +One can't be in love for ever, and she is as cold as the North Star +anyway. But she has driven me mad, and I warn you--I warn you--you had +better not interfere with me!" + +He flung the words like a challenge. His lower jaw was thrust forward. He +looked like a savage animal menacing his keeper. + +But Lucas lay without moving a muscle, lay still and quiet, without +tension and without emotion of any description, simply watching, as a +disinterested spectator might watch, the fiery rebellion that had kindled +against him. + +At length very deliberately he held out the revolver. + +"Well," he drawled, "my life isn't worth much, it's true. And you are +quite welcome to take your gun and end it here and now if you feel so +disposed. For I warn you, Nap Errol, that you'll find me considerably +more in your way than Sir Giles Carfax or any other man. I stand between +you already, and while I live you won't shunt me." + +Nap's lips showed their scoffing smile. "Unfortunately--or otherwise--you +are out of the reckoning," he said. + +"Am I? And how long have I been that?" + +Nap was silent. He looked suddenly stubborn. + +Lucas waited. There was even a hint of humour in his steady eyes. + +"And that's where you begin to make a mistake," he said presently. +"You're a poor sort of blackguard at best, Boney, and that's why you +can't break away. Take this thing! I've no use for it. But maybe in +Arizona you'll find it advisable to carry arms. Come over here and read +Cradock's letter." + +But Nap swung away with a gesture of fierce unrest. He fell to prowling +to and fro, stopping short of the bed at each turn, refusing doggedly to +face the quiet eyes of the man who lay there. + +Minutes passed. Lucas was still watching, but he was no longer at his +ease. His brows were drawn heavily. He looked like a man undergoing +torture. His hand was still fast closed upon Anne's letter. + +He spoke at last, seeming to grind out the words through clenched teeth. +"I guess there's no help for it, Boney. We've figured it out before, you +and I. I'm no great swell at fighting, but--I can hold my own against +you. And if it comes to a tug-of-war--you'll lose." + +Nap came to his side at last and stood there, still not looking at him. +"You seem almighty sure of that," he said. + +"That's so," said Lucas simply. "And if you care to know why, I'll tell +you. It's just because your heart isn't in it. One half of you is on my +side. You're just not blackguard enough." + +"And so you want to send me to Arizona to mature?" suggested Nap grimly. + +"Or to find yourself," Lucas substituted. "Say, Boney, if you don't give +in pretty soon I'll make you take me along." + +"You!" Nap's eyes came down at last to the drawn face. He gave a slight +start, and the next moment stooped to lift the tortured frame to another +position. "If Capper were here he'd say I was killing you," he said. "For +Heaven's sake, man, rest!" + +"No," gasped Lucas. "No! I haven't finished--yet. Boney, you--you've got +to listen. There's no quarrel between us. Only if you will be so damned +headstrong, I must be headstrong too. I mean what I say. If you won't go +to Arizona alone, you will go with me. And we'll start to-night." + +Nap's thin lips twitched, but with no impulse to ridicule. He rearranged +the pillows with his usual dexterous rapidity, then deliberately laid his +hand upon the lined forehead and stood so in utter silence, staring +unblinking straight before him. + +For many seconds Lucas also lay passive. His eyelids drooped heavily, +but he would not suffer them to close. He was yet watching, watching +narrowly, the flame that still smouldered and might blaze afresh at +any moment. + +"Give it up, Boney!" he said at last. "I'll go with you to the ends of +the earth sooner than let you do this thing, and you'll find me a very +considerable encumbrance. Do you honestly believe yourself capable of +shunting me at will?" + +"I honestly believe you'll kill yourself if you don't rest," Nap said. + +He looked down suddenly into the tired eyes. The fierce glare had gone +utterly out of his own. His very pose had altered. + +"Then I shall die in a good cause," Lucas murmured, with the ghost of a +smile. "You needn't say any more, Boney. I guess I shall rest now." + +"Because you think you've beaten me," Nap said curtly. + +"Guess it's your victory, dear fellow, not mine," Lucas answered +very gently. + +A gleam that was not a smile crossed the harsh face, softening but not +gladdening. "It's a mighty hollow one anyway. And I'm not going for +nothing--not even to please you." + +"Anything--to the half of my kingdom," Lucas said. + +Nap sat down on the edge of the bed. The madness had passed, or he had +thrust it back out of sight in the darkest recesses of his soul. He laid +a hand upon his brother's arm and felt it speculatively. + +"No sinew, no flesh, and scarcely any blood!" he said. "And yet"--his +mouth twisted a little--"my master! Luke, you're a genius!" + +"Oh, shucks, Boney! What's brute strength anyway?" + +"Not much," Nap admitted. "But you--you haven't the force of a day-old +puppy. Maybe, when I'm out of the way fighting my devils in the desert, +you'll give Capper a free hand, and let him make of you what you were +always intended to be--a human masterpiece. There won't be any obstacles +when I'm out of the way." + +Lucas's hand felt for and closed upon his. "If that's your condition, +it's a bargain," he said simply. + +"And you'll put up a fight for it, eh, Luke? You're rather apt to slack +when I'm not by." Was there a hint of wistfulness in the words? It almost +seemed so. + +A very tender look came into the elder man's eyes. "With God's help, +Boney," he said, "I'll pull through." + +Nap rose as if that ended the interview. Yet, rising, he still gripped +the weak hand of the man who was his master. + +A moment he stood, then suddenly bent very low and touched it with +his forehead. + +"I leave to-night," he said, and turning went very quickly and +noiselessly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ON THE EDGE OF THE PIT + + +It was a very cheery Dot Waring who ran across the wet fields that +afternoon to the Manor to acquaint Lady Carfax with the gratifying +intelligence that the proceeds of the great entertainment at which she +had so kindly assisted actually amounted to close upon thirty pounds. +Baronford had done its humble best towards providing itself with a Town +Hall, had in fact transcended all expectations, and Dot was in high +spirits in consequence. + +It was something of a disappointment to be met by old Dimsdale with the +intelligence that her ladyship was very tired and resting. He added, +seeing Dot's face fall, that Mrs. Errol was spending a few days at the +Manor and would no doubt be very pleased to see her. + +So Dot entered, and was presently embraced by Mrs. Errol and invited to +take tea with her in the conservatory. + +"Yes, dear Anne's in bed," she said. "She and Nap went for a motor ride +yesterday, and broke down and were benighted. Nap always was sort of +reckless. We had a message late last night telling us what had happened, +and I went off at once in the big car and brought Anne back. Nap had to +wait for his own car, but I guess he's back by this time. And poor Anne +was so worn out when we got back that I persuaded her to go to bed right +away. And I stopped to take care of her." + +In view of the fact that Mrs. Errol was never happier than when she had +someone to take care of, this seemed but natural, and Dot's +straightforward mind found nothing unusual in the story. + +She remained for nearly an hour, chattering gaily upon a thousand topics. +She was always at her ease with Mrs. Errol. + +At parting, the latter held her for a moment very closely. "Happy, +dearie?" she asked. + +"Oh, ever so happy," said Dot, with warm arms round her friend's neck. + +Mrs. Errol sighed a little, smiled and kissed her. "God keep you so, +child!" she said. + +And Dot went forth again into the hazy summer sunshine with a vague +wonder if dear Mrs. Errol were quite happy too. Somehow she had not +liked to ask. + +Her way lay over the shoulder of a hill, that same hill on which Sir +Giles Carfax had once wreaked his mad vengeance upon his enemy. + +A mist lay along the valley, and Dot kept on the ridge as long as she +could. She was essentially a creature of sunshine. + +She was obliged, however, at last to strike downwards, and with regret +she left the sunshine behind. + +The moment it was out of her eyes she caught sight of something she had +not expected to see in the valley below her. It was not a hundred yards +away, but the mist rising from the marshy ground partially obscured it. A +dark object, curiously shapeless, that yet had the look of an animal, was +lying in a hollow, and over it bent the figure of a man. + +Dot's heart quickened a little. Had there been an accident, she asked +herself? She hastened her steps and drew near. + +As she did so, the man straightened himself suddenly, and turned round, +and instantly a thrill of recognition and of horror went through the +girl. It was Nap Errol, and the thing on the ground was his black mare. + +She knew in a flash what had happened. Bertie had predicted disaster too +often for her not to know. A great wave of repulsion surged through her. +She was for the moment too horrified for speech. + +Nap stood, erect, motionless, waiting for her. There was a terrible set +smile on his face like the smile on a death-mask. He did not utter a word +as she came up. + +The mare was quite dead. The starting, bloodshot eyes were already +glazing. She lay in a huddled heap, mud-stained, froth-splashed, with +blood upon her flanks. White-faced and speechless, Dot stood and looked. +It was the first time that tragedy had ever touched her gay young life. + +She stooped at last, and with trembling, pitiful fingers touched the +velvet muzzle. Then suddenly indignation, fierce, overwhelming, headlong, +swept over her, crowding out even her horror. She stood up and faced Nap +in such a tornado of fury as had never before shaken her. + +"You brute!" she said. "You fiend! You--you--" + +"Devil," said Nap. "Why not say it? I shan't contradict you." + +He spoke quite quietly, so quietly that, even in the wild tempest of her +anger she was awed. There was something unfathomable about him, something +that nevertheless arrested her at the very height of her fury. His manner +was so still, so deadly still, and so utterly free from cynicism. + +She stood and stared at him, a queer sensation of dread making her very +heart feel cold. + +"I should go if I were you," he said. + +But Dot stood still, as if struck powerless. + +"You can't do any good," he went on, his tone quite gentle, even remotely +kind. "I had to kill something, but it was a pity you chanced to see it. +You had better go home and forget it." + +Dot's white lips began to move, but it was several seconds before any +sound came from them. "What are you going to do?" + +"That's my affair," said Nap. + +He was still faintly smiling, but his smile appalled her. It was so +cold, so impersonal, so void of all vitality. + +"Really, you had better go," he said. + +But Dot's dread had begun to take tangible form. Perhaps the very shock +she had undergone had served to awaken in her some of the dormant +instincts of her womanhood. + +She stood her ground, obedient to an inner prompting that she dared not +ignore. "Will you--walk a little way with me?" she said at last. + +For the first time Nap's eyes looked at her intently, searched her +closely, unsparingly. She faced the scrutiny bravely, but she +trembled under it. + +At the end of a lengthy pause he spoke. "Are you going to faint?" + +"No," she answered quickly. "I never faint. Only--only--I do +feel--rather sick." + +He put his hand under her arm with a suddenness that allowed of no +protest and began to march her up the hill. + +Long before they reached the top Dot's face was scarlet with exertion +and she was gasping painfully for breath; but he would not let her rest +till they were over the summit and out of sight of the valley and what +lay there. + +Then, to her relief, he stopped. "Better now?" + +"Yes," she panted. + +His hand fell away from her. He turned to go. But swiftly she turned also +and caught his arm "Nap, please--" she begged, "please--" + +He stood still, and again his eyes scanned her. "Yes?" + +The brief word sounded stern, but Dot was too anxious to take any +note of that. + +"Come a little farther," she urged. "It--it's lonely through the wood." + +"What are you afraid of?" said Nap. + +She could not tell him the truth, and she hesitated to lie. But his +eyes read her through and through without effort. When he turned and +walked beside her she was quite sure that he had fathomed the +unspeakable dread which had been steadily growing within her since the +moment of their meeting. + +He did not say another word, merely paced along with his silent tread +till they reached the small wood through which her path lay. Dot's anger +had wholly left her, but her fear remained. A terrible sense of +responsibility was upon her, and she was utterly at a loss as to how to +cope with it. Her influence over this man she believed to be absolutely +nil. She had not the faintest notion how to deal with him. Lady Carfax +would have known, she reflected, and she wished with all her heart that +Lady Carfax had been there. + +He vaulted the stile into the wood, and held up his hand to her. As she +placed hers within it she summoned her resolution and spoke. + +"Nap, I'm sorry I said what I did just now." + +He raised his brows for the fraction of a second. "I forget what +you said." + +She flushed a little. "Because you don't choose to remember. But I am +sorry I spoke all the same. I lost my temper, and I--I suppose I had no +right to." + +"Pray don't apologise," he said. "It made no difference, I assure you." + +But this was not what Dot wanted. She descended to the ground and tried +again. It was something at least to have broken the silence. + +"Nap," she said, standing still with her hands nervously clasped behind +her, "please don't think me--impertinent, or anything of that sort. But I +can't help knowing that you are feeling pretty bad about it. And--and" +she began to falter--"I know you are not a brute really. You didn't mean +to do it." + +A curious little smile came into Nap's face. "It's good of you to make +excuses for me," he observed. "You happen to know me rather well, +don't you?" + +"I know you are in trouble," she answered rather piteously. +"And--I'm sorry." + +"Thanks!" he said. "Do we part here?" + +She thrust out her hand impulsively. "I thought we decided to +be--friends," she said, a sharp quiver in her voice. + +"Well?" said Nap. He did not touch her hand. His fingers were wound in +the thong of his riding-crop and strained at it incessantly as if seeking +to snap it asunder. + +Dot was on the verge of tears. She choked them back desperately. "You +might behave as if we were," she said. + +He continued to tug grimly at the whip-lash. "I'm not friends with anyone +at the present moment," he said. "But it isn't worth crying over anyway. +Why don't you run home and play draughts with Bertie?" + +"Because I'm not what you take me for!" Dot suddenly laid trembling hands +on the creaking leather and faced him with all her courage. "I can't help +what you think of me," she said rather breathlessly. "But I'm not going +to leave you here by yourself. You may be as furious as you like. I +simply won't!" + +He pulled the whip sharply from her grasp. She thought for the moment +that he actually was furious and braced herself to meet the tempest of +his wrath. And then to her amazement he spoke in a tone that held neither +sarcasm nor resentment, only a detached sort of curiosity. + +"Are you quite sure I'm worth all this trouble?" + +"Quite sure," she answered emphatically. + +"And I wonder how you arrived at that conclusion," he said with a twist +of the mouth that was scarcely humorous. + +She did not answer, for she felt utterly unequal to the discussion. + +They began to walk on down the mossy pathway. Suddenly an idea came to +Dot. "I only wish Lady Carfax were here," she exclaimed impetuously. +"She would know how to convince you of that." + +"Would she?" said Nap. He shot a swift look at the girl beside him, then: +"You see, Lady Carfax has thrown me over," he told her very deliberately. + +Dot gave a great start. "Oh, surely not! She would never throw over +anyone. And you have always been such friends." + +"Till I offended her," said Nap. + +"Oh, but couldn't you go and apologise?" urged Dot eagerly. "She is so +sweet. I know she would forgive anybody." + +He jerked up his head. "I don't happen to want her forgiveness. And +even if I did, I shouldn't ask for it. I'm not particularly great at +humbling myself." + +"Isn't that rather a mistake?" said Dot. + +"No," he rejoined briefly. "Not when I'm despised already for a savage +and the descendant of savages." + +"I am afraid I don't understand," she said. + +He uttered a sudden harsh laugh. "I see you don't. Or you would be +despising me too." + +"I shall never do that," she said quickly. + +He looked at her again, still with a mocking smile upon his lips. He bore +himself with a certain royal pride that made her feel decidedly small. + +"You will never say that again," he remarked. + +"Why not?" she demanded. + +"Because," he answered, with a drawling sneer, "you are like the rest of +creation. You put breed before everything. Unless a man has what you are +pleased to term pure blood in his veins he is beyond the pale." + +"Whatever are you talking about?" said Dot, frankly mystified. + +He stopped dead and faced her. "I am talking of myself, if you want to +know," he told her very bitterly. "I am beyond the pale, an illegitimate +son, with a strain of Red Indian in my veins to complete my damnation." + +"Good gracious!" said Dot. + +She stared at him for a few seconds mutely, as if the sudden announcement +had taken her breath away. + +At last: "Then--then--Mrs. Errol--" she stammered. + +"Is not my mother," he informed her grimly. "Did you ever seriously think +she was?" He flung back his shoulders arrogantly. "You're almighty blind, +you English." + +Dot continued to contemplate him with her frank eyes, as if viewing for +the first time a specimen of some rarity. + +"Well, I don't see that it makes any difference," she said at length. +"You are you just the same. I--I really don't see quite why you told me." + +"No?" said Nap, staring back at her with eyes that told her nothing. +"P'r'aps I just wanted to show you that you are wasting your solicitude +on an object of no value." + +"How--funny of you!" said Dot. + +She paused a moment, still looking at him; then with a quick, childish +movement she slipped her hand through his arm. Quite suddenly she knew +how to deal with him. + +"You seem to forget," she said with a little smile, "that I'm going to be +your sister one day." + +He stiffened at her action, and for a single moment she wondered if she +could have made a mistake. And then as suddenly he relaxed. He took the +hand that rested on his arm and squeezed it hard. + +And Dot knew that in some fashion, by a means which she scarcely +understood, she had gained a victory. + +They went on together along the mossy, winding path. A fleeting shower +was falling, and the patter of it sounded on the leaves. + +Nap walked with his face turned up to the raindrops, sure-footed, with +the gait of a panther. He did not speak a word to the girl beside him, +but his silence, did not disconcert her. There was even something in it +that reassured her. + +They were approaching the farther end of the wood when he abruptly spoke. + +"So you think it makes no difference?" + +Was there a touch of pathos in the question? She could not have said. +But she answered it swiftly, with all the confidence--and +ignorance--of youth. + +"Of course I do! How could it make a difference? Do you suppose--if it +had been Bertie--I should have cared?" + +"Bertie!" he said. "Bertie is a law-abiding citizen. And you--pardon me +for saying so--are young." + +"Oh, yes, I know," she admitted. "But I've got some sense all the same. +And--and--Nap, may I say something rather straight?" + +The flicker of a smile shone and died in his eyes. "Don't mind me!" he +said. "The role of an evangelist becomes you better than some." + +"Don't!" said Dot, turning very red. + +"I didn't," said Nap. "I'm only being brotherly. Hit as straight as +you like." + +"I was going to say," she said, taking him at his word, "that if a man is +a good sort and does his duty, I don't believe one person in a million +cares a rap about what his parents were. I don't indeed." + +She spoke with great earnestness; it was quite obvious that she meant +every word. It was Dot's straightforward way to speak from her heart. + +"And I'm sure Lady Carfax doesn't either," she added. + +But at that Nap set his teeth. "My child, you don't chance to know Lady +Carfax as I do. Moreover, suppose the man doesn't chance to be a good +sort and loathes the very word 'duty'? It brings down the house of cards +rather fast, eh?" + +An older woman might have been discouraged; experience would probably +have sadly acquiesced. But Dot possessed neither age nor experience, and +so she only lost her patience. + +"Oh, but you are absurd!" she exclaimed, shaking his arm with +characteristic vigour. "How can you be so disgustingly flabby? You're +worse than old Squinny, who sends for Dad or me every other day to see +him die. He's fearfully keen on going to heaven, but that's all he ever +does to get there." + +Nap broke into a brief laugh. They had reached the stile and he faced +round with extended hand. "After that--good-bye!" he said. "With your +permission we'll keep this encounter to ourselves. But you certainly are +a rousing evangelist. When you mount the padre's pulpit I'll come and sit +under it." + +Dot's fingers held fast for a moment. "It'll be all right, will it?" she +asked bluntly. "I mean--you'll be sensible?" + +He smiled at her in a way she did not wholly understand, yet which went +straight to her quick heart. + +"So long, little sister!" he said. "Yes, it will be quite all right. I'll +continue to cumber the ground a little longer, if you call that being +sensible. And if you think my chances of heaven are likely to be improved +by your kind intervention, p'r'aps you'll put up a prayer now and then on +my behalf to the Power that casts out devils--for we are many." + +"I will, Nap, I will!" she said very earnestly. + +When he was gone she mounted the stile and paused with her face to the +sky. "Take care of him, please, God!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DELIVERANCE + + +Notwithstanding her largeness of heart, Mrs. Errol was something of a +despot, and when once she had assumed command she was slow to +relinquish it. + +"I guess you must let me have my own way, dear Anne," she said, "for I've +never had a daughter." + +And Anne, to whom the burden of life just then was more than ordinarily +heavy, was fain to submit to the kindly tyranny. Mrs. Errol had found her +alone at the inn at Bramhurst on the night of the storm, and in response +to her earnest request had taken her without delay straight back to her +home. Very little had passed between them on the circumstances that had +resulted in this development. Scarcely had Nap's name been mentioned by +either. Mrs. Errol seemed to know him too well to need an explanation. +And Anne had noted this fact with a sick heart. + +It meant to her the confirmation of what had already become a practical +conviction, that the man she had once dreamed that she loved was no +more than a myth of her own imagination. Again and yet again she had +been deceived, but her eyes were open at last finally and for all time. +No devil's craft, however wily, however convincing, could ever close +them again. + +Lying in her darkened room, with her stretched nerves yet quivering at +every sound, she told herself over and over that she knew Nap Errol now +as others knew him, as he knew himself, a man cruel, merciless, +unscrupulous, in whose dark soul no germ of love had ever stirred. + +Why he had ever desired her she could not determine. Possibly her very +faith in him--that faith that he had so rudely shattered--had been the +attraction; possibly only her aloofness, her pride, had kindled in him +the determination to conquer. But that he had ever loved her, as she +interpreted love, she now told herself was an utter impossibility. She +even questioned in the bitterness of her disillusionment if Love, that +True Romance to which she had offered sacrifice, were not also a myth, +the piteous creation of a woman's fond imagination, a thing non-existent +save in the realms of fancy, a dream-goal to which no man might attain +and very few aspire. + +All through the long day she lay alone with her problem, perpetually +turning it in her mind, perpetually asking by what tragic influence she +had ever been brought to fancy that this man with his violent, +unrestrained nature, his fierce egoism, his murderous impulses, had ever +been worthy of the halo her love had fashioned for him. No man was +worthy! No man was worthy! This man least of all! Had not he himself +warned her over and over again, and she had not listened? Perhaps he had +not meant her to listen. Perhaps it had only been another of his devilish +artifices for ensnaring her, that attitude of humility, half-scoffing, +half-persuasive, with which he had masked his inner vileness. + +Oh, she was sick at heart that day, sick with disappointment, sick with +humiliation, sick with a terrible foreboding that gave her no rest. +Slowly the hours dragged away. She had despatched her urgent message to +Lucas immediately upon her arrival at the Manor, and his prompt reply had +in a measure reassured her. But she knew that he was ill, and she could +not drive from her mind the dread that he might fail her. How could he in +his utter physical weakness hope to master the demons that tore Nap +Errol's turbulent soul? And if Lucas failed her, what then? What then? +She had no city of refuge to flee unto. She and her husband were at the +mercy of a murderer. For that he would keep his word she did not for a +moment doubt. Nap Errol was not as other men. No second thoughts would +deter him from his purpose. Unless Lucas by some miracle withheld him, no +other influence would serve. He would wreak his vengeance with no +hesitating hand. The fire of his savagery was an all-consuming flame, +and it was too strongly kindled to be lightly quenched. + +Her thoughts went back to her husband. The date of his return had not +been definitely fixed. The letter had suggested that it should take place +some time in the following week. She had not yet replied to the +suggestion. She put her hand to her head. Actually she had forgotten! +Ought she not to send a message of warning? But in what terms could she +couch it? Lucas might even yet succeed. It might be that even now he was +fighting the desperate battle. + +Inaction became intolerable. She had promised Mrs. Errol that she would +take a long rest, but there was no rest for her. She knew that she would +hear from Lucas the moment he had anything definite to report; but a new +and ghastly fear now assailed her. What if Nap had not returned to +Baronmead? What if he had gone direct to the asylum, there to snatch his +opportunity while his fury was at its height? + +The thought turned her sick. She rose, scarcely knowing what she did, and +moved across the room to her escritoire. The vague idea of penning some +sort of warning was in her mind, but before she reached it the conviction +stabbed her that it would be too late. No warning would be of any avail. +If that had been Nap Errol's intention, by this time the deed was done. +And if that were so, she was in part guilty of her husband's murder. + +Powerless, she sank upon her knees by the open window, striving +painfully, piteously, vainly, to pray. But no words came to her, no +prayer rose from her wrung heart. It was as though she knelt in outer +darkness before a locked door. + +In that hour Anne Carfax went down into that Place of Desolation which +some call hell and some the bitter school of sorrow--that place in which +each soul is alone with its agony and its sin, that place where no light +shines and no voice is heard, where, groping along the edge of +destruction, the wanderer seeks its Maker and finds Him not, where even +the Son of God Himself once lost His faith. + +And in that hour she knew why her love lay wounded unto death, though not +then did she recognise the revelation as a crowning mercy. She saw +herself bruised and abased, humbled beyond belief. She saw her proud +purity brought low, brought down to the very mire which all her life she +had resolutely ignored, from the very though of which she had always +withdrawn herself as from an evil miasma that bred corruption. She saw +herself a sinner, sunk incredibly low, a woman who had worshipped Love +indeed, but at a forbidden shrine, a woman moreover bereft of all things, +who had seen her sacrifice crumble to ashes and had no more to offer. + +Through her mind flashed a single sentence that had often and often set +her wondering: "From him that hath not shall be taken away even that +which he seemeth to have." She knew its meaning now. It scorched her +inmost soul. Such an one was she. No effort had she ever made to possess +her husband's love. No love had she ever offered to him; duty and +submission indeed, but love--never. Her heart had been unwarmed, nor had +she ever sought to kindle within it the faintest spark. She had hated him +always. She knew it now. Or perhaps her feeling for him had been +something too cold for even hatred. If he had made her drink the waters +of bitterness, she had given him in return the icy draught of contempt. + +There had been a time when his passion for her might have turned to love, +but she had let it slide. She had not wanted love. Or else--like so many +fevered souls--she had yearned for the full blossom thereof, neglecting +to nourish the parched seed under her feet. + +She had committed sacrilege. That was why Love had come to her at last +with a flaming sword, devastating her whole life, depriving her of even +that which she had seemed to have. That was why she now knelt impotent +before a locked door. That was why God was angry. + +A long, long time passed. She did not hear the rain pattering upon the +green earth, nor feel the soft breeze on her neck. She had lost touch +with things physical. She was yet groping in outer darkness. + +A hand very softly turned the handle of her door, and a motherly face +looked in. + +"Why, Anne, dear child, I thought you were asleep!" the deep voice +said reproachfully. "I've been listening outside for ages, and you were +so quiet!" + +She raised her head quickly, and in a moment rose. Her eyes were deeply +shadowed, but they bore no trace of tears. + +"I could not sleep," she said. "But you mustn't trouble about me. I am +quite well. I will dress and come down." + +Mrs. Errol came forward, shaking her head disapprovingly. "I have a +note from Lucas," she said. "It arrived a quarter of an hour ago, but +there was no answer, so I thought it would be real wicked to wake you +up to read it." + +Anne stretched out a hand that shook. "Please!" she said almost +inarticulately. + +With the note open in her hand she turned and sat down suddenly as if +incapable of standing. The clumsy, uneven writing danced before her eyes. +One sentence only, but it took her many seconds to read! + +"My brother Nap leaves to-night for Arizona.--Lucas." + +She raised her face with a deep, deep breath. She felt as if she had not +breathed for hours. Silently, after a moment, she held out the brief +message to Mrs. Errol. + +"My!" said the latter. "Well, thank the Lord for that!" + +And then very tenderly she laid her hand upon Anne's shoulder. "My +dearie, would it help you any to speak of him?" + +Anne leaned her weary head against her. "I don't know," she said. + +"I often wanted to warn you," Mrs. Errol said. "But I thought--I +hoped--it was unnecessary. You were always so kind of frank with him that +I thought maybe it would be an impertinence to say anything. It wasn't as +if you were an inexperienced girl. If you had been--but to give him his +due, Nap never tried to trap inexperience. He's got some morals, knave as +he is. Say, Anne dear, you know he is no son of mine?" + +"Yes," whispered Anne, gently drawing her friend's hand round her neck. + +"And I sometimes wonder," Mrs. Errol went on, in her deep sing-song voice +that yet somehow held a note of pathos, "if I did wrong to take him as I +did. He was the quaintest baby, Anne--the cutest morsel you ever saw. His +dying mother brought him to me. She was only a girl herself--a +broken-hearted girl, dying before her time. I couldn't refuse. I felt he +had a sort of claim upon us. Maybe I was wrong. My husband didn't view it +that way, but at that time I hadn't much faith in his judgment. So I took +the boy--his boy--and he was brought up as one of my own. But he was +always unaccountable. He had queer lapses. I tried to be kind to him. I +guess I always was kind. But I surmise that he always suspected me of +resenting his existence. Lucas was the only one who ever had any +influence over him. Latterly I've thought you had some too, but I guess +that was where I went wrong. He and Bertie never got on. P'r'aps it was +my fault. P'r'aps he inherited some of my antagonism. The Lord knows I +tried to suppress it, but somehow it was always there." + +"Dear Mrs. Errol!" Anne murmured softly. "Not one woman in a thousand +would have done as much." + +"Oh, you mustn't say that, dearie. I'm a very poor specimen. I gave him +what advantages I could, but I never loved him. P'r'aps if I had, he'd +have been a better boy. It's only love that counts for anything in God's +sight, and I never gave him any. Lucas did. That's how it is he knows how +to manage him. It isn't personal magnetism or anything of that sort. It's +just love. He can't help answering to that, because it's Divine." + +"Ah!" breathed Anne. "You think him capable of love then?" + +"I guess so, dear. He's raw and undeveloped, but like the rest of +creation he has his possibilities. You've seen him in his better moods +yourself. I always thought he kept his best side for you." + +"I know," Anne said. She leaned slowly back, looking up into the kindly +eyes above her. "But it was only a mask. I see it now. I think there are +many men like that, perhaps all are to a certain extent. They are only +themselves to one another. No woman would ever love a man if she saw him +as he is." + +"My dear! My dear!" Mrs. Errol said. "That's a bitter thing to say. And +it isn't true either. You'll see better by-and-by. Men are contemptible, +I own--the very best of them; but they've all got possibilities, and it's +just our part to draw them out. It's the divine foolishness of women's +love that serves their need, that makes them feel after better things. No +woman ever won a man by despising him. He may be inferior--he is--but he +wants real love to bolster him up. I guess the dear Lord thought of that +when He fashioned women." + +But Anne only smiled, very sadly, and shook her head. It might be true, +but she was in no state to judge. She was blinded by present pain. She +felt she had given her love to the wrong man, and though it had +flourished like a tropical flower in the fiery atmosphere of his passion, +it had been burnt away at last by the very sun that had called it into +being. And she would love in that way no more for ever. There was only +duty left down all the long grey vista of her life. + + + + +PART III + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE POWER DIVINE + + +"Well, if this isn't a pleasure!" + +Thus Lucas Errol, sitting on the terrace on a certain hot afternoon +early in August, greeted Dot, whose multifarious duties did not permit +her to be a very frequent visitor. He smiled at her with that cordiality +which even on his worst days was never absent, but she thought him +looking very ill. + +"Are you sure I shan't tire you too much?" she asked him, as he invited +her to sit down. + +"Quite sure, my dear Dot!" he answered. "It does me good to see people. +Lady Carfax is coming presently. The mother has gone to fetch her. It +will be her last appearance, I am afraid, for the present. She is +expecting her husband home to-morrow. But I'm glad you are here first. I +was just wishing I could see you." + +"Were you really?" said Dot. + +"Yes, really. No, you needn't look at me like that. I'm telling the +truth. I always do, to the best of my ability. Is that chair quite +comfortable? Do you mind if I smoke?" + +"I don't mind anything," Dot said. "And I'm so comfortable that I want to +take off my hat and go to sleep." + +"You may do the first," said Lucas. "But not the second, because I want +to talk, and it's sort of uninteresting not to have an audience, +especially when there is something important to be said." + +"Something important!" echoed Dot. "I hope it's something nice." + +"Oh, quite nice," he assured her. "It's to do with Bertie." He was +smiling in his own peculiarly kindly fashion. "By the way, he's stewing +indoors, studying for that exam, which he isn't going to pass." + +"Not going to pass?" Dot looked up in swift anxiety. "Oh, don't you +think he will?" + +Lucas shook his head. "What's success anyway? I guess the Creator finds +the failures just as useful to Him in the long run." + +"But I don't want him to fail!" she protested. + +"In my opinion," Lucas said slowly, "it doesn't matter a single red cent, +so long as a man does his best. Believe me, it isn't success that counts. +We're apt to think it's everything when we're young. I did myself +once--before I began to realise that I hadn't come to stay." The shrewd +blue eyes smiled at her under their heavy lids. "Now I don't want to +distress you any," he said, "but I'm going to say something that p'r'aps +you'll take to heart though you mustn't let it grieve you. Capper is +coming here next month to perform an operation on me. It may be +successful, and on the other hand--it may not. The uncertainty worries me +some. I'm trying to leave my affairs in good order, but--there are some +things beyond my scope that I'd like unspeakably to see settled before I +take my chances. You can understand that?" + +Dot's hand, warm, throbbing with life, slipped impulsively into his. +"Dear Lucas, of course--of course I understand." + +"Thanks! That's real nice of you. I always knew you were a woman +of sense. I wonder if you can guess what it is I've set my heart +on, eh, Dot?" + +"Tell me," murmured Dot. + +His eyes still rested upon her, but they seemed to be looking at +something beyond. "P'r'aps I'm over fond of regulating other folks' +affairs," he said. "It's a habit that easily grows on the head of a +family. But I've a sort of fancy for seeing you and Bertie married before +I go out. If you tell me it's quite impossible I won't say any more. But +if you could see your way to it--well, it would be a real kindness, and I +needn't say any more than that." + +The weary, rather droning voice ceased to speak. The eyelids drooped more +heavily. It seemed to Dot that a grey shadow lay upon the worn face. He +looked so unutterably tired, so ready for the long, long sleep. + +She sat quite still beside him, turning the matter in her mind. + +After a little he went on speaking, with eyes half-closed. "It would hit +him hard if I went under, but he wouldn't feel so badly if you were +there. The mother too--she wants someone to lean on. There's Lady Carfax, +but she has her own burden. And there'd be a lot for Bertie to see to, +Nap being away. Besides--" + +"Oh, Luke," Dot broke in, her eyes full of tears, "I--I can't imagine +this place without you." + +"No? Well, you mustn't let it distress you any. We've all got to go, +sooner or later. There isn't anything in that. The main thing is to get +it over, when it comes, with as little fuss as possible. Life isn't long +enough for grieving. It's just a mortal waste of time. And what is Death +anyway?" He raised his eyes with what seemed an effort. "You won't blame +me," he said, "for wanting to close up the ranks a bit before I go. Of +course I may live as long as any of you. God knows I shall do my best. I +want to pull through--for several reasons. But if I've got to go, I'd +like to feel I've left things as ship-shape as possible. Bertie will tell +you what provision I desire to make for you. P'r'aps you and he will talk +it over, and if you're willing I'll see the padre about it. But I kind of +felt the first word ought to be with you. Bertie didn't like to speak +because he'd promised to wait. You'll find he's a man of his word. That's +why I've butted in. Say, child, I didn't mean to make you cry. That was +clumsy of me." + +He patted her hand gently, while Dot blinked away her tears. + +"Don't let us talk about it any more now," she besought him. "Oh, +Lucas--I do want you to live, more--more than anything." + +"That's real kind of you," he said. "I'll do my best, you may be sure. +I can hear Lady Carfax talking in the drawing-room. Won't you go and +bring her out?" + +He made no effort to rise when Anne came on to the terrace, but he gave +her so vivid a smile of welcome that she scarcely noted the omission. It +was their first meeting since Nap's departure, for Lucas had been +confined to his bed for days. But that smile of his banished any sense of +embarrassment from her mind. He was so candidly, so unaffectedly, pleased +to see her. + +She sat down in the riotous sunshine and gave herself up unreservedly to +the pleasure of being with her friends. They were all congenial to her. +Mrs. Errol, Dot, Lucas, but most especially Lucas, who occupied a unique +position in her heart and in her thoughts. He had always been so +perfectly her friend in need. + +As the long, sunny afternoon wore away, she found herself watching him +and in silence marvelling. How was it that this man in his utter, +piteous weakness accomplished so much, ruled thus supreme? Wherein lay +that potent charm of his which neither devil nor brute could effectively +resist? Whence came it, this power of the soul, this deliberate and +conscious mastery? + +She watched Bertie waiting on him, hovering about him, ready to spring up +at his lightest word to execute his scarcely-uttered wish. Other +men--even great men--did not command this personal homage, this complete, +incessant devotion. Undoubtedly there was something kingly about him; but +wherein did it lie? Not in the impotent, unwieldy figure, not in the +pleasant, emotionless drawl, not even in the friendly quiet of his eyes, +the kindly sympathy of his smile. In none of these lay his power, and yet +in all of them it was in some fashion apparent. No great force of +personality characterised him, and yet his monarchy was absolute. No +splendour of intellect, no keenness of wit, no smartness of repartee were +his. Only a shrewdness of understanding that was never cruel, a humour +that had no edge. + +And presently Anne remembered that his own mother had given her the key +to the problem, and she doubted not that it solved the whole. "It isn't +personal magnetism," Mrs. Errol had said, "nor anything of that sort. +It's just love." + +That was the magic to which even Nap, the fierce, the passionate, the +treacherous, had been forced to bow. In the midst of his weakness this +man wielded an all-potent power--a power before which they all +instinctively did homage--before which even devils humbled +themselves--because it was Divine. + +That was the secret of his strength. That was the weapon by which he +conquered. She wondered if it had always been so, or if his physical +weakness had tended to develop in him a greatness of heart of which more +active men were quite incapable. It might be true, as Mrs. Errol had +contended, that all men had their possibilities, but, this was the only +man she had ever met who had turned them to account. All unconsciously, +perhaps in response to a reaction which had been necessarily violent, +Anne yielded herself that day for the first time in her life to a species +of hero-worship that could not but beautify her own sad life. + +When later she found herself alone with him, they talked for a space upon +indifferent things, and then they did not talk at all. The intimacy +between them made conversation unnecessary, and Lucas Errol's silence was +as easy as his speech. + +"You'll take care of yourself," he said once, "or I shan't be easy +about you." + +And, when she had promised that: "And you'll look us up as often as +you find you can. P'r'aps if you can't come very often you'll manage +to write." + +But he made no direct reference to her husband's return. His sympathy +neither sought nor needed expression in words. + +Neither did he speak of himself. He only at parting held her hand very +closely for several silent seconds. And Anne went away with a hushed +feeling at her heart as if he had invoked a benediction. + +Back to her home she went, strangely quiet and at peace. She had thought +that visit to Baronmead would have been painful to her. She had expected +to suffer afresh. But it was instead as if a healing hand had been laid +upon her, and as she went she thought no more of Nap, the savage, the +sudden, the terrible; but of Lucas, the gentle, the patient, the +chivalrous, who had won and would for ever keep her perfect trust. + +The light of a golden evening lay upon the Manor as she entered. It was +wonderfully quiet. She went in by the French windows that led into the +drawing-room, and here, tempted by an impulse that had not moved her for +long, she sat down at the piano and began very softly to play. + +She had not touched the keys since her last visit to Baronmead. She +wondered, as idly she suffered her fingers to wander, how long it would +be before she played again. + +Yet it was hard to believe, sitting there in the quiet evening light, +that the next day would witness her return to bondage, that bondage that +had so cruelly galled her, the very thought of which had at one time +filled her with repulsion. But her feelings had undergone a change of +late. She could not feel that the old burden would ever return upon her. +She had been emancipated too long. Her womanhood had developed too much +during those months of liberty. No, it could never be the same. Patient +and faithful wife she would still be. She was ready to devote herself +ungrudgingly, without reservation, to her invalid husband. But his slave +she would never be again. She had overcome her repugnance; she was +willing to serve. But never again would he compel. The days of his +tyranny were for ever gone. + +It was no easy path that lay before her, but she had not forgotten how +narrowly she had escaped the precipice. Even yet she still trembled when +she remembered the all-engulfing pit of destruction that had opened +before her, and the anguish of fear that had possessed her until +deliverance had come. Lucas Errol had been her deliverer. She remembered +that also, and a faint, sad smile touched her lips--Lucas Errol, king +and cripple, ruler and weakling. + +Softly the sunset faded. Anne's fingers ceased to roam over the keys. She +clasped them in her lap and sat still. + +All at once a quiet voice spoke. "My lady!" + +With a start she turned. "Dimsdale! How you startled me!" + +"I beg your ladyship's pardon," the old man said. + +He was standing close behind her. There was an air of subdued importance +about him. He was grave to severity. + +But Anne did not look at him very critically. "I shall not want any +tea," she said. "I will dine at eight in my sitting-room as usual. Is +everything in readiness, Dimsdale? Is Sir Giles's room just as it +should be?" + +"Yes, my lady." + +Anne rose and quietly closed the piano. She wondered why Dimsdale +lingered, and after a moment it struck her that he had something to say. +She took up her gloves and turned round to him. + +"No one has been, I suppose?" + +"No one, my lady." + +"Are there any letters?" + +"No letters, my lady." + +"Then--" Anne paused, and for the first time looked at the old servant +attentively. "Is anything the matter, Dimsdale?" she asked. + +He hesitated, the fingers of one hand working a little, an unusual sign +of agitation with him. + +With an effort at last he spoke. "Your ladyship instructed me to open any +telegram that might arrive." + +Her heart gave a great throb of foreboding. "Certainly," she said. "Has +there been a telegram then?" + +Dimsdale's hand clenched. He looked at her anxiously, rather piteously. + +"My lady--" he said, and stopped. + +Anne stood like a statue. She felt as if her vitality were suddenly +arrested, as if every pulse had ceased to beat. + +"Please go on," she said in a whisper. "There has been a telegram. Either +give it to me, or--tell me what was in it." + +Dimsdale made a jerky movement, as if pulling himself together. He put an +unsteady hand into his breast-pocket. "It came this afternoon, my lady, +about an hour ago. I am afraid it's bad news--very bad news. Yes, my +lady, I'm telling you, I'm telling you. I regret to say Sir Giles has +been took worse, took very sudden like, and--and--" + +"He is dead," Anne said very clearly, very steadily, in a tone that was +neither of question nor of exclamation. + +Dimsdale bent his head. "He died at half-past three, my lady." + +He had the telegram in his hand. Anne took it from him and moved very +quietly to the window. + +Mutely the old man stood and watched her in the silence, thankful for her +composure. He was himself severely shaken, and the ordeal of telling her +had been no light one. + +But as the silence still continued he began to grow uneasy again. He +wondered if he ought to go, if she had forgotten to dismiss him. Her +stately head was bent over the paper, which never crackled or stirred in +her hand. There began to be something terrible, something fateful, in +her passivity. Old Dimsdale shivered, and took the liberty of breaking +the silence. + +"Would your ladyship wish a message to be sent to Baronmead?" + +She stirred at that, moved sharply as one suddenly awakened. Her face was +quite white, but her eyes were alight, curiously vital, with a glitter +that was almost of horror. + +"To Baronmead!" she said, a queer note of sharpness in her voice. "No, +certainly not, most certainly not!" + +And there she stopped, stopped dead as though struck dumb. In the garden +behind her, down among the lilac trees, a bird had begun to sing, +eagerly, voluptuously, thrillingly, with a rapture as of the full +spring-tide of life. + +Anne stood for a space of many seconds and listened, her white face +upraised, her eyes wide and shining. + +And then suddenly her attitude changed. She put her hands over her face +and tottered blindly from the open window. + +Dimsdale started to support her, but she needed no support. In a +moment she was looking at him again, but with eyes from which all +light had faded. + +"I must write some messages at once," she said. "One of the grooms must +take them. No, I shall not send to Mrs. Errol to-night. I wish to be +alone--quite alone. Please admit no one. And--yes--tell them to pull down +the blinds, and--shut all the windows!" + +Her voice quivered and sank. She stood a moment, collecting herself, +then walked quietly to the door. + +"Come to me in ten minutes for those telegrams," she said. "And after +that, remember, Dimsdale, I am not to be disturbed by anyone." + +And with that she passed out, erect and calm, and went up to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WORKER OF MIRACLES + + +"I want to know!" said Capper. + +He had said it several times during a muddy two-mile tramp from Baronford +Station, and he said it again as he turned up the hill that was crowned +by the old grey church, whose two cracked bells had just burst into as +cheerful a marriage peal as they could compass. + +"Sounds frisky!" he commented to himself, as he trudged up the steep +lane. "My! What an all-fired fuss! Guess these muddy boots aren't exactly +wedding-guesty. But that's their lookout for monopolising every vehicle +in the place. I wonder if I'll have the audacity to show after all. Or +shall I carry this almighty thirst of mine back to the Carfax Arms and +quench it in British ale?" + +But this latter idea did not apparently greatly lure him, for he +continued to plod upwards, even while considering it, to the tune of the +clamouring bells. + +Arriving finally at the top of the hill and finding there a crowd of +vehicles of all descriptions, he paused to breathe and to search for the +Baronmead motors. + +He found them eventually, but there was no one in attendance. The +servants were all herded in the churchyard for a view of the bridal +procession, for which a passage across the road to the Rectory grounds +was being kept. + +Capper stationed himself, with another rueful glance as his boots, as +near as he could get to the open lych-gate, and there stood grimly +conspicuous, watching the scene with his alert green eyes, that held the +glint of a tolerant smile, and cracking his thin, yellow fingers one by +one. No one gave him a second glance, or dreamed for an instant that one +of the greatest men in the Western Hemisphere was standing on the edge of +the crowd. + +They came at last--bride and bridegroom--flushed and hastening through a +shower of rose petals. + +Bertie was laughing all over his brown face. He was holding Dot's hand +very fast, and as they descended the red-carpeted steps into the road he +leaned to her, whispering. She laughed back at him with shining eyes, her +round face radiant beneath the orange blossom. Neither of them glanced to +right or left. Swiftly through the fallen rose leaves they crossed to the +Rectory gateway and were lost to view. + +A bevy of bridesmaids ran laughing after them, and then came a pause. + +Capper edged a little nearer to the churchyard steps and waited. The +clamour of bells was incessant, wholly drowning the clamour of voices. +Everyone was craning forward to see the crowd of guests. The long +procession had already begun to issue from the church porch. It moved +very slowly, for at the head of it, his hand on his mother's arm, came +Lucas Errol. + +He walked with extreme difficulty, leaning on a crutch. His head was +uncovered, and the glare of the September sunlight smote full upon it. +The hair was turning very grey. + +He was smiling as he came, but his brows were slightly drawn, his eyes +sunk in deep hollows. + +Swiftly and comprehensively the man at the foot of the steps scanned +every detail, marked the halting, painful progress, the lined forehead. +And the next moment, as Lucas paused, preparatory to descending, he +pushed forward with characteristic decision of movement and moved upwards +to his side. + +"I guess you'll find me useful at this juncture," he said. + +Lucas's start of surprise was instantly followed by a smile of welcome. +He gripped Capper's hand warmly. + +"The very man I want! But how in wonder did you get here? You never +walked all the way from the station?" + +"I did," said Capper. + +"You don't say! Why didn't you let me know? I guess we must move on. We +are blocking the gangway." + +"Easy does it," said Capper. "It won't hurt 'em any to wait. Get +your arm over my shoulder. That's the way. These steps are the very +devil for you." + +He bent his wiry frame to Lucas Errol's need, and helped him to descend. +At the foot he paused a moment and looked at him keenly. + +"All serene," smiled Lucas. "I'll take your arm now, if it's all the +same to the mother. You didn't expect to find us plunged in wedding +gaieties, I guess." + +"Wish it had been your own," said Capper. + +At which Lucas turned up his face to the sky and laughed. + +They crossed the flag-decked garden and entered by the conservatory door. +People were beginning to crowd about them. + +"We must find you a seat somehow," said Capper. + +"I must have a word with the bride and bridegroom first," Lucas declared. + +But the bride and bridegroom were for the moment inaccessible, being +completely surrounded by well-wishers. + +Capper seized upon the first chair he came upon and put Lucas into it. + +"I seem to have come in the nick of time," he observed drily. "Why is no +one detailed to look after you? Where is that tiger's whelp Nap?" + +"Nap's in America, been gone two months or more." + +"That so?" There was keen satisfaction in Capper's tone. "That clears the +ground for action. And Lady Carfax? Is she here?" + +"No." There was a hint of reserve in the quiet reply. "Lady Carfax is in +deep mourning for her husband." + +"That so?" said Capper again. He seemed to take but casual note of the +information. He was pulling absently at his pointed yellow beard. + +Lucas lay back in his chair and suffered himself to relax with a sigh. +Capper's eyes darted lizard-like over him, taking in every line of him, +keenly alive to each detail. + +"If I were you I should shunt as soon as possible," he said. "Since it +isn't your own show unfortunately, I should imagine you are not +indispensable." + +But at this point the throng parted, and Dot, looking very young in her +bridal white, and supremely happy, burst eagerly through, + +"Oh, here you are!" she cried. "Your mother said you were close by, but I +couldn't see you anywhere. It's been too much for you. You're tired." + +She bent over him in quick solicitude, then, as he smiled and drew her +down to him, stooped and kissed him, whispering a few words for his +ear alone. + +Bertie was close behind her, but he had caught sight of Capper and had +stopped short with a queer expression on his boyish face, a look that was +a curious blend of consternation and relief. + +A moment and he stepped up to the great doctor and took him by the elbow. +"You here already!" he said. "I didn't expect you so soon." + +"I have only run down to have a look at things," said Capper. "I seem to +have pitched on a busy day. I hope you are enjoying yourself." + +"Thanks!" said Bertie, with a brief laugh. "Say, Doctor, you'll let me +know your plans?" + +"Certainly--when they are ripe." The green eyes gleamed humorously. +"Aren't you thinking of introducing me to Mrs. Bertie?" he suggested. + +"Yes, yes, of course. But you won't do anything without me?" urged +Bertie. "I should greatly like a talk with you, but I'm afraid it can't +be managed." + +"I mightily doubt if you could tell me anything that I don't know +already," said Capper, "on any subject." + +"It's about Luke," said Bertie anxiously. + +"Just so. Well, I guess I know more about Luke than any other person on +this merry little planet." + +"Do you think he looks worse?" whispered Bertie. + +Capper's long, yellow hand fastened very unobtrusively and very forcibly +upon his shoulder. "One thing at a time, good Bertie!" he said. "Weren't +you going to present me to--your wife?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WOMAN'S PART + + +It was on a day of wild autumnal weather, when the wind moaned like a +living thing in torture about the house, and the leaves eddied and +drifted before the scudding rain, that they turned Tawny Hudson out of +his master's room, and left him crouched and whimpering like a dog +against the locked door. Save for his master's express command, no power +on earth would have driven him away, not even Capper of the curt speech +and magnetic will. But the master had spoken very definitely and +distinctly, and it was Tawny Hudson's to obey. Therefore he huddled on +the mat, rocking to and fro, shivering like some monstrous animal in +pain, while within the room Capper wrought his miracles. + +Downstairs Mrs. Errol sat holding Anne's hand very tightly, and talking +incessantly lest her ears should be constrained to listen. And Anne, pale +and still, answered her as a woman talking in her sleep. + +Bertie and his young bride were still absent on their honeymoon; this +also by Lucas's express desire. + +"It won't help me any to have you here, boy," he had said at parting. "A +certain fuss is inevitable, but I want you out of it. I am looking to +Anne Carfax to help the dear mother." + +He had known even then that he would not look in vain, and he had not +been disappointed. So, sorely against his will, Bertie had submitted, +with the proviso that if things went wrong he should be sent for +immediately. + +And thus Anne Carfax, who had lived in almost unbroken seclusion since +her husband's death, now sat with Mrs. Errol's hand clasped in hers, and +listened, as one listens in a nightmare, to the wailing of the wind about +the garden and house, and the beat, beat, beat of her heart when the wind +was still. + +"Could you say a prayer, dear?" Mrs. Errol asked her once. + +And she knelt and prayed, scarcely knowing what she said, but with a +passion of earnestness that left her weak, quivering in every limb. + +The wind was rising. It roared in the trees and howled against the panes. +Sometimes a wild gust of rain lashed the windows. It made her think of an +unquiet spirit clamouring for admittance. + +"Anne dear, play to me, play to me!" besought Mrs. Errol. "If I listen I +shall go mad! No one will hear you. We are right away from his part of +the house." + +And though every nerve shrank at the bare suggestion, Anne rose without +a single protest and went to the piano. She sat down before it, and +blindly, her eyes wide, fixed, unseeing, she began to play. + +What she played she knew not. Her fingers found notes, chords, melodies +mechanically. + +Once she paused, but, "Ah, go on, dear child! Go on!" urged Mrs. Errol. +And she went on, feeling vaguely through the maze of suspense that +surrounded them, longing inarticulately to cease all effort, but spurred +onward because she knew she must not fail. + +And gradually as she played there came to her a curious sense of duality, +of something happening that had happened before, of a record repeating +itself. She turned her head, almost expecting to hear a voice speak +softly behind her, almost expecting to hear a mocking echo of the words +unspoken. "Has the Queen no further use for her jester?" No further use! +No further use! Oh, why was she tortured thus? Why, when her whole soul +yearned to forget, was she thus compelled to remember the man whose +brutal passion and insatiable thirst for vengeance had caught and crushed +her heart? + +And still she played on as one beneath a spell, while the memory of him +forced the gates of her consciousness and took arrogant possession. She +saw again the swarthy face with its fierce eyes, the haughty smile, which +for her was ever tinged with tenderness. Surely--oh, surely he had loved +her once! She recalled his fiery love-making, and thrilled again to the +eager insistence of his voice, the mastery of his touch. And then she +remembered what they said of him, that women were his slaves, his +playthings, the toys he broke in wantonness and carelessly tossed aside. +She remembered how once in his actual presence she had overheard words +that had made her shrink, a wonder as to who was his latest conquest, the +cynical remark: "Anyone for a change and no one for long is his motto." +What was he doing now, she asked herself, and trembled. He had gone +without word or message of any sort. Her last glimpse of him had been in +that violet glare of lightning, inexpressibly terrible, with tigerish +eyes that threatened her and snarling lips drawn back. Thus--thus had she +seen him many a time since in the long night-watches when she had lain +sleepless and restless, waiting for the dawn. + +Some such vision came to her now, forcing itself upon her shrinking +imagination. Vividly there rose before her his harsh face alert, cruel, +cynical, and the sinewy hands that gripped and crushed. And suddenly a +shuddering sense of nausea overcame her. She left the piano as one +seeking refuge from a horror unutterable. Surely this man had never loved +her--was incapable of love! And she had almost wished him back! + +"There is someone in the entry, dear child," whispered Mrs. Errol. "Go +and see--go and see!" + +She went, moving as one stricken blind. But before she reached the door +it opened and someone entered. She saw Capper as through a mist in which +bodily weakness and anguished fear combined to overwhelm her. And then +very steadily his arm encircled her, drew her tottering to a chair. + +"It's all right," he said in his expressionless drawl. "The patient has +regained consciousness, and is doing O.K. Are you ladies thinking of +lunch? Because if so, I guess I'll join you. No, Mrs. Errol, you can't +see him before to-night at the earliest. Lady Carfax, I have a message +for you--the first words he spoke when he came to. He was hardly +conscious when he uttered them, but I guess you'll be kind of interested +to hear what they were. 'Tell Anne,' he said, 'I'm going to get well.'" + +The intense deliberation with which he spoke gave her time to collect +herself, but the words affected her oddly. After a moment she rose, went +to Mrs. Errol, who had covered her face with both hands while he was +speaking, and knelt beside her. Neither of them uttered a sound. + +Capper strolled to the window, his hands deep in his pockets, and looked +out upon the wind-swept gardens. He whistled very softly to himself, as a +man well satisfied. + +He did not turn his head till at the end of five minutes Anne came to his +side. She was very pale but quite self-possessed. + +"Mrs. Errol has gone to her room," she said. "She wished to be alone." + +"Gone to have a good cry, eh?" said Capper. "Healthiest thing she could +do. And what about you?" + +She smiled with lips that faintly quivered. "I am quite all right, +Doctor. And--I have ordered luncheon." + +He turned fully round and looked her up and down with lightning +swiftness. "You're a very remarkable woman, Lady Carfax," he said +after a moment. + +"I hope you may never be disappointed in me," she answered gravely. + +"I hope so too," he said, "for there is a good deal dependent upon you." + +"What do you mean?" She raised her clear eyes interrogatively. + +But he baffled her, as he baffled everyone, with the very keenness of his +own scrutiny. He began to crack all his fingers in turn. + +"I mean," he said, "that even I can't work miracles by myself. I can do +the elementary part. I can cut and saw and sew, but I can't heal. I can't +give life. That's the woman's part. That's where I count on you. And I +don't think you are going to fail me, Lady Carfax." + +"I promise you I will do my utmost," she said very earnestly. + +He nodded. "I believe you will. But even so, you can't do too much. It's +a serious case, even more serious than I expected. I don't say this to +alarm you, but I guess you had better know it. It'll be a tough, uphill +fight, and he'll need a deal of pushing behind. It may entail more than +you dream of--a big sacrifice perhaps; who knows? But you women don't shy +at sacrifices. And, believe me, he's worth a sacrifice." + +"He deserves the best," she said warmly. + +"Yes, but you don't take me," said Capper. + +He paused a moment, then suddenly laid a quiet hand on her shoulder. "I +may be a wise man," he said, "and again I may be a meddling fool. You and +the gods must decide between you. But I'm old enough to be your father +anyway. So p'r'aps you'll bear with me. Lady Carfax, hasn't it struck you +that a time will come--probably pretty soon--when he will begin to reach +out for something that you--and you alone--can give?" + +Anne's quick gesture of protest was his answer. She stood motionless, her +eyes still raised, waiting for him to continue. But he felt her tremble +under his hand. He knew that inwardly she was not so calm as she would +have had him think. + +He went on in his precise, emotionless fashion, as though he perceived +nothing. "He won't ask for it--anyway till he feels he can make a fair +return. He will never ask a sacrifice of you. He will break his heart +sooner. The point is, Are you capable of offering the sacrifice unasked? +For that is what it amounts to, now that the gods have cleared the way." + +"Ah!" Anne said. "And--if--not?" + +She spoke rather as if to gain time than because she desired an answer. + +But he answered her nevertheless very quietly, without a shade of +emotion, as if he were discussing some technical matter of no personal +interest to him. Only as he answered he took his hand from her shoulder +and thrust it back into his pocket. + +"In that case he will die, having nothing left to live for. He probably +won't suffer much, simply go out like a candle. He hasn't much vitality. +He may die either way. There is no responsibility attached--only +possibilities." + +He turned with the words, and walked across the room with the air of a +man who has said his say. + +She uttered no word to stop him, nor did she move to follow. She stood +alone with her face to the grey storm-clouds that drifted perpetually +overhead. Somehow she did not for a moment doubt the truth of what +Capper had just told her. She even felt sub-consciously that she had +known it for some time. Neither did she ask herself what she was going +to do. For deep in the heart of her she knew already. Deep in the heart +of her she knew that when Lucas Errol began to reach out for something +which she alone could give, it would not be in vain. He had given of his +best to her, and she was ready to give of her best in return. If she +could not give him passion, she could give him that which was +infinitely greater--a deep, abiding love, a devotion born of complete +sympathy. She could give him happiness, and in the giving she might find +it for herself. + +Over in the west the clouds were breaking, and a shaft of pale sunshine +streamed upon the distant hills, turning the woods to living gold. Her +eyes brightened a little as they caught the radiance. It seemed as if the +door before which she had knelt so long in impotence were opening to her +at last, as if one more opportunity were to be given her even yet after +long and bitter failure of turning her corner of the desert into a garden +of flowers and singing birds. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE MESSAGE + + +It was nearly a month after Lucas Errol's operation that Bertie and his +bride came home from their honeymoon and began the congenial task of +setting their house in order. + +Dot was thoroughly in her element. The minutest details were to her +matters of vital importance. + +"We must make it comfy," she said to Bertie, and Bertie fully agreed. + +He had relinquished his study of the law, and had resumed his secretarial +duties, well aware that Lucas could ill spare him. He was in fact Lucas's +right hand just then, and the burden that devolved upon him was no light +one. But he bore it with a cheerful spirit, for Lucas was making +progress. Despite his utter helplessness, despite the inevitable +confinement to one room, despite the weariness and the irksomeness which +day by day were his portion, Lucas was very gradually gaining ground. +Already he suffered less severely and slept more naturally. + +His last words to Capper at parting had been, "Come again in the spring +and complete the cure. I shall be ready for you." + +And Capper had smiled upon him with something approaching geniality and +had answered, "You'll do it, and so shall I. So long then!" + +But the months that intervened were the chief stumbling-block, and Capper +knew it. He knew that his patient would have to face difficulties and +drawbacks that might well dismay the bravest. He knew of the reaction +that must surely come when the vitality was low, and progress became +imperceptible, and the long imprisonment almost unendurable. He knew of +the fever that would lurk in the quickening blood, of the torturing cramp +that would draw the unused muscles, of the depression that was its mental +counterpart, of the black despair that would hang like a paralysing +weight upon soul and body, of the _ennui_, of the weariness of life, of +the piteous weakness that nothing could alleviate. + +He had to a certain extent warned Lucas what to expect; but the time for +these things had not yet arrived. He was hardly yet past the first stage, +and his courage was buoyed up by high hopes as yet undashed. He had faced +worse things without blenching, and he had not begun to feel the monotony +that Capper had dreaded as his worst enemy. + +He took a keen interest in the doings of the young couple at the Dower +House, and Dot's breezy presence was ever welcome. + +As for Anne, she went to and fro between Baronmead and the Manor, of +which her husband's will had left her sole mistress, no longer leading a +hermit's life, no longer clinging to her solitude, grave and quiet, but +not wholly unhappy. Those few words Capper had spoken on the day of +Lucas's operation had made a marvellous difference to her outlook. They +had made it possible for her to break down the prison-walls that +surrounded her. They had given her strength to leave the past behind her, +all vain regrets and cruel disillusionments, to put away despair and rise +above depression. They had given her courage to go on. + +Of Nap no word was ever spoken in her presence. He might have been dead, +so completely had he dropped out of her life. In fact, he was scarcely +ever mentioned by anyone, a fact which aroused in Dot a curiously keen +indignation, but upon which a certain shyness kept her from commenting. +She kept him faithfully in mind, praying for him as regularly as she +prayed for old Squinny, who still lingered on with exasperating tenacity, +and continued to enjoy such help, spiritual or otherwise, as he could +extract from the parson's daughter. + +That Bertie strongly disapproved of his brother she was aware, but she +held no very high opinion of Bertie's judgment, though even he could +scarcely have forbidden her to pray for the black sheep of the family. +She had not been brought up to rely upon anyone's judgment but her own, +and, deeply as she loved him, she could not help regarding her husband +as headlong and inclined to prejudice. He was young, she reflected, and +doubtless these small defects would disappear as he grew older. True, he +was nearly four years her senior; but Dot did not regard years as in any +degree a measure of age. It was all a question of development, she would +say, and some people--women especially--developed much more quickly than +others. She herself, for instance--At which stage of the argument Bertie +invariably said or did something rude, and the rest of her logic became +somewhat confused. He was a dear boy and she couldn't possibly be cross +with him, but somehow he never seemed to realise when she was in earnest. +Another of the deficiencies of youth! + +Meanwhile she occupied herself in her new home with all the zest of the +young housewife, returned calls with commendable punctuality, and settled +down once more to the many parochial duties which had been her +ever-increasing responsibility for almost as long as she could remember. + +"You are not going to slave like this always," Bertie said to her one +evening, when she came in late through a November drizzle to find him +waiting for her. + +"I must do what I've got to do," said Dot practically, suffering him to +remove her wet coat. + +"All very well," said Bertie, whose chin looked somewhat more square than +usual. "But I'm not going to have my wife wearing herself out over what +after all is not her business." + +"My dear boy!" Dot laughed aloud, twining her arm in his. "I think you +forget, don't you, that I was the rector's daughter before I was your +wife? I must do these things. There is no one else to do them." + +"Skittles!" said Bertie rudely. + +"Yes, dear, but that's no argument. Let's go and have tea, and for +goodness' sake don't frown at me like that. It's positively appalling. +Put your chin in and be good." + +She passed her hand over her husband's face and laughed up at him +merrily. But Bertie remained grave. + +"You're wet through and as cold as ice. Come to the fire and let's get +off your boots." + +She went with him into the drawing-room, where tea awaited them. + +"I'm not wet through," she declared, "and I'm not going to let you take +off my boots. You may, if you are very anxious, give me some tea." + +Bertie pulled up a chair to the fire and put her into it; then turned +aside and began to make the tea. + +Dot lay back with her feet in the fender and watched him. She was looking +very tired, and now that the smile had faded from her face this was the +more apparent. + +When he brought her her tea she reached up, caught his hand, and held it +for a moment against her cheek. + +"One's own fireside is so much nicer than anyone else's," she said. +"We'll have a nice cosy talk presently. How is Luke to-day?" + +"Not quite so flourishing. A brute of a dog howled in the night and woke +him up. He didn't get his proper sleep afterwards." + +"Poor old Luke! What a shame!" + +"Yes, it made a difference. He has been having neuralgia down his spine +nearly all day. I believe he's worrying too. I'm going back after dinner +to see if I can do anything. I manage to read him to sleep sometimes, +you know." + +"Shall I come too?" said Dot. + +"No." Bertie spoke with decision. "You had better go to bed yourself." + +She made a face at him. "I shall do nothing of the sort. I shall sit up +and do the Clothing Club accounts." + +Bertie frowned abruptly. "Not to-night, Dot." + +"Yes, to-night. They have got to be done, and I can think better +at night." + +"You are not to do them to-night," Bertie said, with determination. "I +will do them myself if they must be done." + +"My dear boy, you! You would never understand my book-keeping. Just +imagine the muddle you would make! No, I must get through them myself, +and since I must spend the time somehow till you come home, why shouldn't +I do them to-night?" + +"Because I forbid it," said Bertie unexpectedly. + +He was standing on the rug, cup in hand. He looked straight down at her +with the words, meeting her surprised eyes with most unwonted sternness. + +Dot raised her eyebrows as high as they would go, kept them so for +several seconds, then very deliberately lowered them and began to +stir her tea. + +"You understand me, don't you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "Not in the least. I don't think I have ever met you +before, have I?" + +He set his cup upon the mantelpiece and went suddenly down on his knees +by her side. "I haven't been taking proper care of you," he said. "But +I'm going to begin right now. Do you know when you came in just now you +gave me an absolute shock?" + +She laughed faintly, her eyes fixed upon her cup "I didn't know I was +looking such a fright." + +"You can never look anything but sweet to me," he said. "But it's a fact +you're not looking well. I'm sure you are doing too much." + +"I'm not doing any more than usual," said Dot, still intent upon the +drain of tea in her cup. + +"Well, it's too much for you anyway, and I'm going to put a stop to it." + +"Do you know how to read your fortune in tea leaves?" said Dot. + +"No," said Bertie. With a very gentle hand he deprived her of this +engrossing pastime. "I want you to attend to me for a minute," he said. + +Dot snuggled against him with a very winning gesture. "I don't want to, +Bertie, unless you can find something more interesting to talk about. +Really, there is nothing wrong with me. Tell me about Luke. Why is he +worrying?" + +Bertie frowned. "He doesn't say so, but I believe he's bothered about +Nap. Heaven knows why he should be. He was supposed to go to Arizona, but +he didn't turn up there. As a matter of fact, if he never turned up again +anywhere it would be about the best thing that could possibly happen." + +"Oh, don't, Bertie!" Dot spoke sharply, almost involuntarily. There was a +quick note of pain in her voice. "I don't like you to talk like that. It +isn't nice of you to be glad he's gone, and--it's downright horrid to +want him to stay away for ever." + +"Good heavens!" said Bertie. + +He was plainly amazed, and she resented his amazement, feeling that in +some fashion it placed her in a false position from which she was +powerless to extricate herself. The last thing she desired was to take up +the cudgels on Nap's behalf, nevertheless she prepared herself to do so +as in duty bound. For Nap was a friend, and Dot's loyalty to her friends +was very stanch. + +"I mean it," she said, sitting up and facing him. "I don't think it's +right of you, and it certainly isn't kind. He doesn't deserve to be +treated as an outcast. He isn't such a bad sort after all. There is a +whole lot of good in him, whatever people may say. You at least ought +to know him better. Anyhow, he is a friend of mine, and I won't hear +him abused." + +Bertie's face changed while she was speaking, grew stern, grew almost +implacable. + +"Look here," he said plainly, "if you want to know what Nap is, he's a +damned blackguard, not fit for you to speak to. So, if you've no +objection, we'll shunt him for good and all!" + +It was Dot's turn to look amazed. She opened her eyes to their widest +extent. "What has he done?" + +"Never mind!" said Bertie. + +"But I do mind!" Swiftly indignation swamped her surprise. "Why should I +shunt him, as you call it, for no reason at all? I tell you frankly, +Bertie, I simply won't!" + +Her eyes were very bright as she ended. She sat bolt upright obviously +girded for battle. + +Bertie also looked on the verge of an explosion, but with a grim effort +he restrained himself. "I have told you he is unworthy of your +friendship," he said. "Let that be enough." + +"That's not enough," said Dot. "I think otherwise." + +He bit his lip. "Well, if you must have it--so did Lady Carfax till she +found out her mistake." + +"Lady Carfax!" Dot's face changed. "What about Lady Carfax?" + +"She gave him her friendship," Bertie told her grimly, "and he rewarded +her with about as foul a trick as any man could conceive. You heard the +story of the motor breaking down that day in the summer when he took her +for a ride? It was nothing but an infernal trick. He wanted to get her +for himself, and it wasn't his fault that he failed. It was in +consequence of that that Lucas sent him away." + +"Oh!" said Dot. "He was in love with her then!" + +"If you call it love," said Bertie. "He is always in love with someone." + +Dot's eyes expressed enlightenment. She seemed to have forgotten their +difference of opinion. "So that was why he was so cut up," she said. "Of +course--of course! I was a donkey not to think of it. What a mercy Sir +Giles is dead! Has anyone written to tell him?" + +"No," said Bertie shortly. + +"But why not? Surely he has a right to know? Lady Carfax herself +might wish it." + +"Lady Carfax would be thankful to forget his very existence," said +Bertie, with conviction. + +"My dear boy, how can you possibly tell? Are you one of those misguided +male creatures who profess to understand women?" + +"I know that Lady Carfax loathes the very thought of him," Bertie +maintained. "She is not a woman to forgive and forget very easily. +Moreover, as I told you before, no one knows where he is." + +"I see," said Dot thoughtfully. "But surely he has a club somewhere?" + +"Yes, he belongs to the Phoenix Club, New York, if they haven't kicked +him out. But what of that? I'm not going to write to him. I don't want +him back, Heaven knows." There was a fighting note in Bertie's voice. He +spoke as if prepared to resist to the uttermost any sudden attack upon +his resolution. + +But Dot attempted none; she abandoned the argument quite suddenly, and +nestled against his breast. "Darling, don't let's talk about it any +more! It's a subject upon which we can't agree. And I'm sorry I've been +so horrid to you. I know it isn't my fault that we haven't +quarrelled. Forgive me, dear, and keep on loving me. You do love me, +don't you, Bertie?" + +"Sweetheart!" he whispered, holding her closely. + +She uttered a little muffled laugh. "That's my own boy! And I'm going to +be so good, you'll hardly know me. I won't go out in the rain, and I +won't do the Clothing Club accounts, and I won't overwork. And--and--I +won't be cross, even if I do look and feel hideous. I'm going to be a +perfect saint, Bertie." + +"Sweetheart!" he said again. + +She turned her face up against his neck. "Shall I tell you why?" she +said, clinging to him with hands that trembled. "It's because if I let +myself get cross-grained and ugly now, p'r'aps someone else--some +day--will be cross-grained and ugly too. And I should never forgive +myself for that. I should always feel it was my fault. Fancy if it turned +out a shrew like me, Bertie! Wouldn't--wouldn't it be dreadful?" + +She was half-laughing, half-crying, as she whispered the words. Bertie's +arms held her so closely that she almost gasped for breath. + +"My precious girl!" he said. "My own precious wife! Is it so? You know, I +wondered." + +She turned her lips quickly to his. There were tears on her cheeks though +she was laughing. + +"How bright of you, Bertie! You--you always get there sooner or later, +don't you? And you're not cross with me any more? You don't think me very +unreasonable about Nap?" + +"Oh, damn Nap!" said Bertie, for the second time, with fervour. + +"Poor Nap!" said Dot gently. + +That evening, when Bertie was at Baronmead, she scribbled a single +sentence on a sheet of paper, thrust it into an envelope and directed it +to the Phoenix Club, New York. + +This done, she despatched a servant to the postoffice with it and sat +down before the fire. + +"I expect it was wrong of me," she said. "But somehow I can't help +feeling he ought to know. Anyway"--Dot's English was becoming lightly +powdered with Americanisms, which possessed a very decided charm on her +lips--"anyway, it's done, and I won't think any more about it. It's the +very last wrong thing I'll do for--ever so long." Her eyes grew soft as +she uttered this praiseworthy resolution. She gazed down into the fire +with a little smile, and gave herself up to dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND + + +"O God, give me rest!" + +Painfully the words came through quivering lips, the first they had +uttered for hours. Lucas Errol lay, as he had lain for nearly three +months, with his face to the ceiling, his body stretched straight and +rigid, ever in the same position, utterly helpless and weary unto death. + +Day after day he lay there, never stirring save when they made him bend +his knees, an exercise upon which the doctor daily insisted, but which +was agony to him. Night after night, sleepless, he waited the coming of +the day. His general health varied but little, but his weakness was +telling upon him. His endurance still held, but it was wearing thin. His +old cheeriness was gone, though he summoned it back now and again with +piteous, spasmodic effort. Hope and despair were fighting together in his +soul, and at that time despair was uppermost. He had set out with a brave +heart, but the goal was still far off, and he was beginning to falter. He +had ceased to make any progress, and the sheer monotony of existence was +wearing him out. The keen, shrewd eyes were dull and listless. At the +opening of the door he did not even turn his head. + +And yet it was Anne who entered, Anne with the flush of exercise on her +sweet face, her hands full of Russian violets. + +"See how busy I have been!" she said. "I am not disturbing you? You +weren't asleep?" + +"I never sleep," he answered, and he did not look at her or the violets; +he kept his eyes upon the ceiling. + +She came and sat beside him. "I gathered them all myself," she said. +"Don't you want to smell them?" + +He moved his lips without replying, and she leaned down, her eyes full of +the utmost compassionate tenderness and held the violets to him. He +raised a hand with evident effort and fumblingly took her wrist. He +pressed the wet flowers against his face. + +"It's a shame to bring them here, Lady Carfax," he said, letting her go. +"Take them--wear them! I guess they'll be happier with you." + +She smiled a little. "Should I have gathered all this quantity for +myself? It has taken me nearly an hour." + +"You should have told the gardener," he said. "You mustn't go tiring +yourself out over me. I'm not worth it." He added, with that kindly +courtesy of which adversity had never deprived him, "But I'm real +grateful all the same. You mustn't think me unappreciative." + +"I don't," she answered gently. "Wouldn't you like them in water?" + +"Ah, yes," he said. "Put them near me. I shall smell them if I can't see +them. Do you mind closing the window? I can't get warm to-day." + +She moved to comply, passing across his line of vision. A moment she +stood with the keen sweet air blowing in upon her, a tall, gracious +figure in the full flower of comely womanhood, not beautiful, but +possessing in every line of her that queenly, indescribable charm which +is greater than beauty. + +The man caught his breath as he watched her. His brows contracted. + +Softly she closed the window and turned. She came back to her chair +by his side, drew forward a little table, and began deftly to arrange +her flowers. + +Several seconds passed before Lucas broke the silence. "It does me good +to watch you," he said. "You're always so serene." + +She smiled at him across the violets. "You place serenity among the +higher virtues?" + +"I do," he said simply. "It's such a restful contrast to the +strenuousness of life. You make me feel just by looking at you that +everything's all right. You bring a peaceful atmosphere in with you, +and"--his voice sank a little--"you take it away again when you go." + +The smile went out of her grey eyes at his last words, but the +steadfastness remained. "Then," she said gently, "I must come more often +and stay longer." + +But he instantly negatived that. "No--it wouldn't be good for you. It +wouldn't be good for me either to get to lean on you too much. I should +grow exacting." + +She saw a gleam of his old smile as he spoke, but it was gone at once, +lost among the countless lines that pain and weariness had drawn of late +upon his face. + +"I don't think that is very likely," Anne said. "I can't imagine it." + +"Not yet perhaps. I haven't quite reached that stage. Maybe I shall be +down and out before it comes. God grant it!" + +The words were too deliberate to cause her any shock. They were, +moreover, not wholly unexpected. There followed a short silence while she +finished arranging her violets. Then very quietly she spoke: + +"You say that because you are tired." + +"I am more than tired," he answered. "I'm done. I'm beaten. I'm whipped +off the field." + +"You think you are not gaining ground?" she questioned. + +"My dear Lady Carfax," he said quietly, "it's no use closing one's eyes +to the obvious. I'm losing ground every day--every night." + +"But you are not fighting," she said. + +"No." He looked at her half-wistfully from under his heavy eyelids. "Do +you think me quite despicable? I've done my best." + +She was silent. Perhaps she was not fully prepared to cope with this open +admission of failure. + +"I've done my best," he said again. "But it's outlasted my strength. I'm +like a man hanging on to the edge of a precipice. I know every instant +that my grip is slackening, and I can't help it. I've got to drop." + +"You haven't done your best yet," Anne said, her voice very low. "You've +got to hold on to the very end. It may be help is nearer than you think." + +"But if I don't want help?" he said. "If it would be more merciful to +let me go?" + +Again she was silent. + +"You know," he said, "life hasn't many inducements. I've put up a fight +for it because I gave my promise to Nap before he went. But it isn't good +enough to keep on. I can't win through. The odds are too great." + +"Do you think Nap would let you stop fighting?" she said. + +He smiled again faintly. "I suppose--if he were here--I should subsist on +his vitality for a little while. But the end would be the same. Even he +can't work miracles." + +"Don't you believe in miracles?" Anne said. + +He looked at her interrogatively. + +"Mr. Errol," she said, "I am going to remind you of something that I +think you have forgotten. It was Dr. Capper who told me. It was when you +were recovering consciousness after the operation. You sent me a message. +'Tell Anne,' you said, 'I am going to get well.'" She paused a moment, +looking at him very steadily. "I don't know why exactly you sent that +special message to me, but I have carried it in my heart ever since." + +She had moved him at last. She saw a faint glow spread slowly over the +tired face. The heavy eyes opened wide to meet her look. + +"Did I say that?" he said. "Yes, I had forgotten." + +He was silent for a little, gazing full at her with the eyes of one +suddenly awakened. + +She lowered her own, and bent her face to the violets. Though she had +spoken so quietly it had not been without effort. She had not found +it easy. Nor did she find his silence easy, implicitly though she +trusted him. + +Perhaps he understood, for when he spoke at length there was in his +voice so reassuring a gentleness that on the instant her +embarrassment passed. + +"Anne," he said, "do you really want me to get well? Would such a miracle +make much difference to you?" + +"It would make all the difference in the world," she answered earnestly. +"I want it more than anything else in life." + +With the words she raised her eyes, found his fixed upon her with an +expression so new, so tender, that her heart stirred within her as a +flower that expands in sudden sunshine, and the next moment his hand lay +between her own, and all doubt, all hesitation had fled. + +"But, my dear," he said, "I always thought it was Nap. Surely it was +Nap!" + +She felt as if something had stabbed her. "No, never!" she said +passionately. "Never! It might have been--once--before I knew him. But +never since, never since!" + +"That so?" said Lucas Errol, and was silent for a little. Then, +"Anne"--and the soft drawl had in it a tremor that was almost a break--"I +guess I do believe in miracles after all, dear. Anyway," he began to +smile, "there are some things in life too mighty for explanation." + +His face was turned towards her. There was something in the look it wore +that seemed to her in some fashion superb. He was different from other +men. That quiet kingliness of his was so natural to him, so sublimely +free from arrogance. He was immeasurably greater than his fellows by +reason of the very smallness of his self-esteem. + +"Guess I must take up my burden again and step out," he said. "You won't +catch me slacking any after this. And--if I don't win out, dear, you'll +know that it just wasn't possible because God didn't will it so." + +"Oh, but you will!" she said, clasping his hand more closely. "You will! +God knows how badly I want you." + +"His Will be done!" said Lucas Errol. "But I want you too, dearest. I +want you too." + +His fingers stirred in her hold. It was the merest movement, but she +knew his meaning. She slipped to her knees by his side, leaned down and +kissed him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A VOICE THAT CALLED + + +Christmas came and went--the most peaceful Christmas that Anne had ever +known. A wonderful peace had indeed begun to possess her. It was as if +after long tossing she had come at last into quiet waters, and a +contentment such as she had never known before was hers. Her health had +improved in this calm, untroubled atmosphere. She slept without dreaming. +She had put all regrets and fears out of her life. + +Lucas filled all her thoughts. Had he allowed it, she would have devoted +herself exclusively to him, but this he would not have. Very slowly, very +painfully, he had struggled out of his Slough of Despond, and what that +struggle had meant to him none but himself would ever know. And now that +he had made it, and in a measure succeeded, he suffered scarcely less +than before. His strength was undoubtedly greater, his spirits were more +even; but these were the only visible signs of improvement. The long, +sleepless nights with spells of racking pain continued. Perhaps they +became less frequent as time went on, but they did not cease. + +Anne always knew, though the same brave smile greeted her every day, +when he had been through one of these ordeals. He was always so ready +to tell her when the news was good, but when it was otherwise his lips +were sealed upon the subject. He never uttered a desponding word in +her presence. + +But still, gradual, often halting though it was, he did make progress. He +went forward more than he slipped back. And ever he carried in his eyes +the light of a great hope. She knew that he did not despair, even in his +own hidden soul. + +And day by day her love and admiration for the man grew and spread, +filling her life, renewing her youth, transforming her very existence. +Day by day she sounded greater depths of a nature that made her feel +infinitely small in comparison. Day by day she marvelled afresh at the +greatness and the simplicity that went to the making of this man's soul. + +No one, save Mrs. Errol, knew of what had passed between them. They +scarcely referred to it even in private. There was no need, for the +understanding between them was complete. By mutual consent they awaited +the coming of Capper and the final miracle. + +Slowly the dark, bitter days of January dragged away. The Hunt Ball had +been postponed till the following month when the Town Hall, which had +been building all the winter, should be complete. Anne, to her dismay, +had been unanimously elected to perform the opening ceremony. Her +position as Lady of the Manor made her prominent, and, no substitute +being forthcoming, she had been obliged reluctantly to consent. Her deep +mourning enabled her to avoid any succeeding social function, but, since +she had broken her seclusion, she found it impossible to escape the +ceremony itself. + +She had never enjoyed social prominence, and she was thankful that at the +Hunt Ball at least her presence could not be expected. She never thought +of the last that she had attended without a shiver. It had been her +birthday, and this fact brought it to mind the more persistently. This +year she spent the day in the peaceful atmosphere of Baronmead, driving +home at length, through the frosty starlight, in the Errols' car. + +She strove as she went to put away from her the memory of that other ride +of a year ago, when she had been borne swiftly through the darkness as +though upon wings, when she had lain back exhausted in her corner and +dreamed a strange, vivid dream, while Nap had sat upright beside her, +alert, silent, inscrutable, plucking the gloves to tatters between his +restless hands. + +The vision would not be excluded, strive though she might. She leaned +amongst the cushions and closed her eyes, trying to trick herself to +drowsiness, but on the instant he was there beside her again, a +ruthless, indomitable presence, which would not be ignored. She was glad +when she came to her journey's end. + +Entering the hall, she gathered up a few letters that lay there, and went +straight to her room. With a feeling of unwonted fatigue she dropped into +an easy-chair and sat for awhile inert. On her right hand she wore a ring +that Lucas had given her only that day. + +He had half-apologised for his offering. "If you think it premature, +don't wear it!" he had said. + +And she had slipped it on to her right hand and worn it ever since. + +She recalled the kindling of his tired eyes at her action, and smiled +sadly to herself. How little she had to give him after all! And yet he +was content! + +Sitting there, she raised her hand and looked closely at the gift. It was +a complete circle of diamonds. She had never seen such a ring before. It +must have cost a fortune. She wondered if she ought to wear it. Again +memory began to crowd upon her, strive though she would. + +"Do you like diamonds?" asked a casual voice. + +Her hand fell into her lap. She sat as one watching a scene upon a stage, +rapt and listening. She wanted to rise and move away, to break the magic +spell that bound her, to flee--to flee--but she was powerless. + +"No," said the voice. "You haven't a passion for anything at present. +You will have soon." + +There fell a silence in her soul, a brief darkness, then again words, no +longer casual, but quick, burning, passionate. + +"I am mad--I am mad for you, Anne! Goddess--queen--woman--you are +mine--you are mine--you are mine!" And then, less fiery, less vehement, +but infinitely more compelling: "Where is your love for me? I will swear +that you loved me once!" + +The voice ceased, was lost in the wild throbbing of her heart, and Anne's +hands clenched unconsciously. In that moment there came to her the +conviction, inexplicable but extraordinarily vivid, that across the world +Nap Errol had called to her--and had called in vain. + +Minutes passed. She sat as one in a trance. Her eyes were wide and fixed. +Her face was grey. + +She rose at last and stood looking down into the red depths of the +fire. The coals sank together under her eyes, and a sudden flame flared +fiercely for a moment and died. It was like the opening and the +shutting of a furnace door. A long, long shiver went through her. She +turned away.... + +Anne Carfax did not look in her glass again that day. For the third time +in her life she was afraid to meet her own eyes. + +And all night long her brain thrummed like a vibrating wire to a voice +that sometimes pleaded but more often gibed. "Has the Queen no further +use for her jester?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE UNINVITED GUEST + + +Spring came early that year, and the day fixed for the opening of the +Baronford Town Hall was brilliantly fine and warm. Anne was staying at +Baronmead for the event. The end of February was approaching. Lucas was +decidedly better. His sleep was becoming less broken. He suffered +considerably less; and he took a keen interest in all that passed. + +On the morning before the ceremony he greeted Anne with an eagerness +that almost amounted to impatience. "Come in! Come in! I've something to +show you." + +He was alone. She went to his side and kissed him. + +His hands caught hers, and she marvelled at the strength of his grip. +"Sweetheart," he said, "I've had a letter from Capper." + +She felt the blood ebb suddenly from her face. She stood a moment in +silence, then sat down and pressed his hand close against her heart. + +"What does he say?" she asked. + +He looked at her oddly for a few seconds. Then: "It's good news, dear," +he said. "You mustn't let it scare you." + +She began to smile, though her lips were trembling. "No, of course not. +Tell me what he says." + +He gave her the letter and she read. Capper wrote that he had received an +excellent report from Dr. Randal of his patient's progress, that he +expected to be in England in about a fortnight and would come down +himself to ascertain if the time for the second operation had arrived. He +wrote in a cheery strain, and at the end of the letter was a postscript: +"Have you taken my advice yet with regard to _la femme_?" + +"An ancient joke," explained Lucas with a smile. "He told me long ago +that I should need a woman's help to pull me through. And"--his voice +dropped--"I guess he was right." + +The colour came back to her face. She pressed his hand without speaking. + +"I shouldn't be here now but for you, Anne," he said, his blue eyes +watching her. "I sometimes think it must have been a mortal strain upon +you. Have you felt it so very badly, I wonder?" + +She met his look with eyes grown misty. "Luke--my dearest--you have done +far greater things for me. You have kept me from starvation. You have no +idea what you are to me." + +The words came brokenly. She checked a sudden sob and, rising, moved to +the window. + +Lucas lay silent, but his eyes watched her with a great tenderness. + +When she came back to him she was smiling. "Have you ever begun to think +of what you will do when you are well?" she said. + +"I am thinking of it always," he answered. "I make wonderful pictures for +myself sometimes. You are the central figure of them all." + +She clasped his hand again in hers. "Lucas," she said, "will you +take me away?" + +"Yes, dear," he said. + +"Far away from anywhere I have ever been before?" Her voice shook a +little. "I want to begin life over again where everything is new." + +A certain shrewdness gleamed in the steady eyes that watched her, but it +was mingled with the utmost kindness. + +"I guess I'd better show you my best picture right now," he said. "It's +got a steam yacht in it, and a state cabin fit for a queen. And it goes +rocking around the world, looking for the Happy Islands. I guess we shall +find them some day, sweetheart--maybe sooner than we think." + +"Ah, yes," she said. "We won't stop looking till we do. How soon shall we +start, Luke?" + +He answered her with a smile, but there was a thrill of deep feeling in +his words. "Just as soon as I can stand on my feet like any other man, +Anne, and hold the woman I love in my arms." + +She bent her face suddenly, pressing her cheek to the hand she held. "I +am ready for you when ever you will," she murmured. + +"I know it," he said. "And God bless you for telling me so!" + +He was full of kindness to her that day, and she thought him cheerier +than he had been all the winter. When she bade him good-bye that +afternoon he seemed in excellent spirits. Yet after she was gone he lay +for a long while staring at the specks of dust that danced in a shaft of +sunlight, with the air of a man seeking the solution of a problem that +baffled him. And once very suddenly he sighed. + +Anne went through the ordeal of publicity with less embarrassment than +she had anticipated. Mrs. Errol was with her, and she was surrounded by +friends. Even Major Shirley deigned to look upon her with a favourable +eye. Bertie was hunting, but Dot was present to view the final +achievement of her favourite scheme. + +She seized the first opportunity to slip her arm through Anne's. "Do--do +come home with me to tea," she whispered very urgently. "I want to show +you some things I have been making. And make the dear mater come too, if +someone else doesn't snap her up first." + +But the dear mater was already snapped up, and Anne had some difficulty +in avoiding a like fate. + +Eventually, however, she succeeded in making her escape, and she and Dot +drove back to the Dower House, congratulating themselves. + +"I am lucky to get you all to myself," Dot said. "And do you know, dear +Lady Carfax, you are looking simply lovely to-day?" + +Anne smiled a little. She had discarded her widow's veil for the first +time, and she felt like a woman emerging from a long imprisonment. People +would call it premature, she knew. Doubtless they were already discussing +her not too charitably. But after all, why should she consider them? The +winter was past and over, and the gold of the coming spring was already +dawning. Why should she mourn? Were not all regrets put away for ever? + +"I wish you would call me Anne, Dot," she said. + +"To be sure I will," said Dot, with shining eyes. "I never liked the name +before I knew you. And now I love it." + +There was something wonderfully genuine and childlike about Dot, a +youthfulness that would probably cling to her all her life. Anne drew her +on to speak of herself and her coming happiness, which she did with that +cheery simplicity of hers that had first drawn Bertie to her. + +"He makes a tremendous fuss," she said, displaying Bertie's favourite +dimple at the thought. "I don't, you know. I somehow feel it's going to +be all right. But it's rather nice being petted for months together. I +haven't had a tantrum for ages. I'm afraid I'm getting spoilt." + +At which piece of logic Anne could not repress a smile. + +"He won't be home to tea," said Dot, when they finally turned in at the +Dower House. "He stables his hunters at Baronmead, and he is sure to go +in and see Luke. So we shall have it all to ourselves. I'm so glad, for I +have been wanting your advice for days. I wonder if anyone has been. +Hullo! Bertie's back after all!" + +A glow of firelight met them from the little square hall as they +entered, and a smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the scent from the +burning logs. + +Dot stood back for her guest to precede her, but Anne stood +suddenly still. + +"Hullo!" said Dot again. + +A slim, straight figure was standing outlined against the firelight. Dot +stared as she stepped forward. + +"Why--Nap!" she said incredulously. + +He made a swift, elastic movement to meet her, caught her hands, laughed, +and kissed her. + +"Why--Dot!" he said. + +Dot continued to stare. "Good gracious!" she said. + +And in the doorway Anne stood like a statue, the soft spring dusk +behind her. + +"My sister seems surprised," said Nap. "I hope I haven't come at an +unlucky moment." + +He did not even glance towards the silent figure in the doorway. It was +as if he had not observed it. + +"I am surprised," said Dot. "Hugely surprised. But I'm very glad to see +you," she added. "When did you come?" + +"I have been here about half an hour," he told her coolly. "I went to the +Rectory first, where I learned for the first time of your marriage. You +forgot to mention that detail when you wrote. Hence my brotherly salute, +which you must have missed on your wedding-day!" + +At this point Dot remembered her other guest, and turned with flushed +cheeks. "Lady Carfax--Anne--you--you know my brother-in-law Nap?" + +The pleading in her voice was unmistakable. She was evidently agitated, +wholly at a loss how to manage a most difficult situation. + +But Nap hastened to relieve her of the responsibility. He had dealt +with difficult situations before. He went straight to Anne and stood +before her. + +"Are you going to know me, Lady Carfax?" he asked. + +There was no arrogance in voice or bearing as he uttered the question. He +looked as if he expected to be dismissed, as if he were ready at a word +to turn and go. His eyes were lowered. His foot was already on the +threshold. + +But Anne stood speechless and rigid. For those few seconds she was as one +stricken with paralysis. She knew that if she moved or tried to speak she +would faint. + +She wondered desperately how long it would be before he looked up, if +perhaps he would go without looking at her, or if--ah, he was speaking +again! His words reached her as from an immense distance. At the same +instant his hands came to her out of a surging darkness that hid all +things, grasping, sustaining, compelling. She yielded to them, scarcely +knowing what she did. + +"Lady Carfax has been overtiring herself," she heard him say. "Have you +any brandy at hand?" + +"Oh, dear Lady Carfax!" cried Dot in distress. "Make her sit down, Nap. +Here is a cushion. Yes, I'll go and get some." + +Guided by those steady hands, Anne sank into a chair, and there +the constriction that bound her began to pass. She shivered from +head to foot. + +Nap stooped over her and chafed her icy hands. He did not look at her or +speak. When Dot came back, he took the glass from her and held it very +quietly to the quivering lips. + +She drank, responsive to his unspoken insistence, and as she did so, for +a single instant she met his eyes. They were darkly inscrutable and gave +her no message of any sort. She might have been accepting help from a +total stranger. + +"No more, please!" she whispered, and he took the glass away. + +The front door was still open. He drew it wider, and the evening air blew +in across her face. Somewhere away in the darkness a thrush was warbling +softly. Nap stood against the door and waited. Dot knelt beside her, +holding her hand very tightly. + +"I am better," Anne said at last. "Forgive me, dear child. I suppose it +has been--too much for me." + +"My dear, dear Anne!" said Dot impulsively. "Would you like to come into +the drawing-room? There is tea there. But of course we will have it here +if you prefer it." + +"No," Anne said. "No. We will go to the drawing-room." + +She prepared to rise, and instantly Nap stepped forward. But he did not +offer to touch her. He only stood ready. + +When he saw that she had so far recovered herself as to be able to move +with Dot's assistance, he dropped back. + +"I am going, Dot," he said. "You will do better without me. I will look +in again later." + +And before Dot could agree or protest he had stepped out into the +deepening twilight and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE HEART OF A SAVAGE + + +It had certainly been a successful afternoon. Mrs. Errol smiled to +herself as she drove back to Baronmead. Everything had gone well. Dear +Anne had looked lovely, and she for one was thankful that she had +discarded her widow's weeds. Had not her husband been virtually dead to +her for nearly a year? Besides--here Mrs. Errol's thoughts merged into a +smile again--dear Anne was young, not much more than a girl in years. +Doubtless she would marry again ere long. + +At this point Mrs. Errol floated happily away upon a voyage of day-dreams +that lasted till the car stopped. So engrossed was she that she did not +move for a moment even then. Not until the door was opened from outside +did she bestir herself. Then, still smiling, she prepared to descend. + +But the next instant she checked herself with a violent start that nearly +threw her backwards. The man at the step who stood waiting to assist her +was no servant. + +"My!" she gasped. "Is it you, Nap, or your ghost?" + +"It's me," said Nap. + +Very coolly he reached out a hand and helped her to descend. "We have +arrived at the same moment," he said. "I've just walked across the park. +How are you, alma mater?" + +She did not answer him or make response of any sort to his greeting. She +walked up the steps and into the house with leaden feet. The smile had +died utterly from her face. She looked suddenly old. + +He followed her with the utmost composure, and when she stopped proceeded +to divest her of her furs with the deftness of movement habitual to him. + +Abruptly she spoke, in her voice a ring of something that was almost +ferocity. "What have you come back for anyway?" + +He raised his eyebrows slightly without replying. + +But Mrs. Errol was not to be so silenced. Her hands fastened with +determination upon the front of his coat. "You face me, Napoleon Errol," +she said. "And answer me honestly. What have you come back for? Weren't +there enough women on the other side to keep you amused?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Women in plenty--amusement none. Moreover, I +didn't go to be amused. Where is Lucas?" + +"Don't you go to Lucas till I've done with you," said Mrs. Errol. "You +come right along to my room first." + +"What for?" He stood motionless, suffering her restraining hands, the +beginning of a smile about his lips. + +"There's something I've got to tell you," she said. + +"Lead the way then, alma mater!" he said. "I am very much at your +service." + +Mrs. Errol turned without further words, and he, with her sables +flung across his shoulder, prepared to follow. She moved up the +stairs as if she were very weary. The man behind her walked with the +elasticity of a cat. + +But there was no lack of resolution about her when in her own room she +turned and faced him. There was rather something suggestive of a mother +animal at bay. + +"Nap," she said, and her deep voice quivered, "if there's any right +feeling in you, if you are capable of a single spark of affection, of +gratitude, you'll turn around right now and go back to the place you +came from." + +Nap deposited his burden on the back of a chair. His dark face was devoid +of the faintest shadow of expression. "That so?" he drawled. "I thought +you seemed mighty pleased to see me." + +"Lock that door!" said Mrs. Errol. "Now come and sit here where you can +see my face and know whether I am telling the truth." + +He smiled at that. "I don't require ocular evidence, alma mater. I have +always been able to read you with my eyes shut." + +"I believe you have, Nap," she said, with a touch of wistfulness. + +"It isn't your fault," he said, "that you weren't made subtle enough. +You've done your best." + +He came and sat down facing her as she desired. The strong electric light +beat upon his face also, but it revealed nothing to her anxious +eyes--nothing save that faint, cynical smile that masked so much. + +She shook her head. She was clasping and unclasping her hands restlessly. +"A very poor best, Nap," she said. "I know only too well how badly I've +failed. It never seemed to matter till lately, and now I would give the +eyes out of my head to have a little influence with you." + +"That so?" he said again. + +She made a desperate gesture. "Yes, you sit there and smile. It doesn't +matter to you who suffers so long as you can grab what you want." + +"How do you know what I want?" he said. + +"I don't know," said Mrs. Errol. "I only surmise." + +"And you think that wise? You are not afraid of tripping up in the dark?" + +She stretched out her hands to him in sudden earnest entreaty. "Nap, tell +me that it isn't Anne Carfax, and I'll bless you with my dying breath!" + +But he looked at her without emotion. He took her hands after a moment, +but it was the merest act of courtesy. He did not hold them. + +"And if it were?" he said slowly, his hard eyes fixed on hers. + +She choked back her agitation with the tears running down her face. "Then +God help Lucas--and me too--for it will be his death-blow!" + +"Lucas?" said Nap. + +He did not speak as if vitally interested, yet she answered as if +compelled. + +"He loves her. He can't do without her. She has been his mainstay all +through the winter. He would have died without her." + +Nap passed over the information as though it were of no importance. "He +is no better then?" he asked. + +"Yes, he is better. But he has been real sick. No one knows what he has +come through, and there is that other operation still to be faced. I'm +scared to think of it. He hasn't the strength of a mouse. It's only the +thought of Anne that makes him able to hold on. I can see it in his eyes +day after day--the thought of winning out and making her his wife." + +Again he passed the matter over. "When does Capper come again?" + +"Very soon now. In two or three weeks. There was a letter from him +to-day, Lucas was quite excited about it, but I fancy it upset dear Anne +some. You see--she loves him too." + +There fell a silence. Mrs. Errol wiped her eyes and strove to compose +herself. Somehow he had made her aware of the futility of tears. She +wondered what was passing in his mind as he sat there sphinx-like, +staring straight before him. Had she managed to reach his heart, she +wondered? Or was there perchance no heart behind that inscrutable mask to +reach? Yet she had always believed that after his own savage fashion he +had loved Lucas. + +Suddenly he rose. "If you have quite done with me, alma mater, I'll go." + +She looked up at him apprehensively. "What are you going to do?" + +He smiled abruptly. "I am going to get a drink." + +"And what then?" she asked feverishly. "Nap, oh, Nap, she is staying in +the house. Won't you go without seeing her?" + +"I have seen her already," drawled Nap. + +"You have seen her?" + +His smile became contemptuous. "What of it? Do you seriously suppose she +is the only woman in the world I care to look at?" + +"I don't know what to think," cried Mrs. Errol. "I only know that you +hold Luke's fate between your hands." + +He was already at the door. He turned and briefly bowed. "You flatter me, +alma mater!" he said. + +And with the smile still upon his lips he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DIVINE SPARK + + +"Boney, old chap, you're the very man I want!" Such was Lucas Errol's +greeting to the man who had shot like a thunderbolt into the peaceful +atmosphere that surrounded him, to the general disturbance of all others +who dwelt therein. + +"I guess you must have known it," he said, the sinewy hand fast gripped +in his. "You've come like an answer to prayer. Where have you been all +this time? And why didn't you write? It's worried me some not hearing." + +"Great Lucifer!" said Nap. + +He sat down, leaving his hand in his brother's grasp. The cynicism had +gone utterly from his face, but he did not answer either question. + +"So you are winning out?" he said. "It's been a long trail, I'll wager." + +"Oh, damnably long, Boney." Lucas uttered a weary sigh. "I was nearly +down and out in the winter. But I'm better, you know. I'm better." He +met the open criticism of Nap's eyes with a smile. "What's the +verdict?" he asked. + +"I'll tell you presently. You're not looking overfed anyway." Nap's +fingers began to feel along his wrist. "Did Capper say he wanted a +skeleton to work on?" + +"Shucks, dear fellow! There's more than enough of me. Tell me about +yourself. What have you been doing? I want to know." + +"I?" Nap jerked back his head. "I've nothing to tell," he declared. +"You know what I went to do. Well, I've done it, and that's all there +is to it." + +"I'm not quite clear as to what you went to do," Lucas answered. "You +didn't turn up in Arizona. I was puzzled what to think." + +"You never expected me to go to Arizona," said Nap with conviction. "You +were shrewd enough for that." + +"Thanks, Boney! P'r'aps I was. But I've been hoping all this while, +nevertheless, that you might have the grit to keep the devil at +arm's length." + +Nap laughed, stretched his arms above his head, and made a vehement +gesture as if flinging something from him--something that writhed +and clung. + +"Will it interest you to know that the devil has ceased to provide me +with distractions?" he asked suddenly. + +A certain eagerness came into the blue eyes. "That so, Boney?" + +Nap leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "It's no virtue of mine," he +said. "I found I wanted solitude, so I went to the Rockies and stayed +there till I was tired. That's all." + +Again the skeleton hand of the man on the bed sought and pressed his. +"Old chap, I'm real glad," the tired voice drawled. "You've found +yourself at last. I always felt you would--sooner or later." + +Nap's lips twitched a little. "Don't be too sure of that. Anyway it +doesn't follow that I shall sit at home and practise the domestic +virtues. I've got to wander a bit first and find my own level." + +"Not yet, dear fellow. I'm wanting you myself." + +"You!" The thin lips began to smile. "That's real magnanimous of you. +But--thanks all the same--I'm not taking any. You have the mater and +Bertie and Anne Carfax to bolster you up. I guess I'm not essential." + +"And I guess you can do more for me than any one of them," Lucas made +quiet reply. "P'r'aps you'll think me a selfish brute to say so, but I +need you badly. You're like a stimulating drug to me. You pick me up when +I'm down. There is no one can help me in the same way." + +"You wouldn't get Capper to say 'Amen' to that," remarked Nap. + +"Capper is no oracle out of his own sphere. Besides," there was almost a +note of pleading in Lucas's voice, "I know what I want better than he +can tell me." + +"True, very true!" Nap was smiling somewhat grimly. "And doubtless your +wish is law. But it doesn't follow that you always desire what is best +for yourself. Hadn't you better consult the queen before you admit the +wasp to the hive?" + +"You're too fond of talking in parables, my son," protested Lucas, +frowning slightly. "My intelligence won't stretch to it." + +"We'll try another," said Nap imperturbably. "Do you think Anne Carfax +would thank you for asking me to pull in the same boat? Do you think she +would second that request? Because, if so, I beg to differ." + +He looked his brother full in the face as he said it, without the flicker +of an eyelid. Lucas's frown deepened. He lay in silence. + +After a moment Nap went on. "She may be ready to put up with it for your +sake. There's nothing some women won't do for a man they care for, and I +take it she has your welfare next her heart. But it's rather much to ask +of her. You wouldn't want to run the risk of frightening her away." + +Lucas was watching him gravely, his brows still drawn. "Boney," he said +slowly at length, "I'd give a good deal to see into your soul." + +Nap smiled with a faint return of cynicism. "Who's talking in parables +now? Afraid I can't show you what I haven't got." + +Lucas passed the rejoinder by. "What makes you conclude that I am more +to her than--any other man?" + +"Circumstances," said Nap. + +"What circumstances?" + +"Finding her installed here as one of the family for one. Finding you +pulling off the biggest deal of your life for another. And other +signs--crowds of them--that I can't explain but that I can't fail to +notice when I've got my nose to the trail. You needn't be shy about it. +I'm just as pleased as you are." + +But Lucas's face did not clear. There followed a very decided pause. +Then, with an effort, very earnestly, he spoke. + +"Nap, I don't believe you'll lie to me when I tell you that I'd rather +die than be deceived. I know you cared for her once." + +"I care for most women," said Nap indifferently. "What of that? It's the +way I'm made, and I must say they don't most of 'em seem to mind." + +"But, Boney--Anne Carfax?" + +Nap threw up his head with a brief laugh. "Oh, I'm cured of that--quite +cured. The paths of perpetual virtue are not for me. I prefer more rapid +travelling and a surer goal." + +He stood up, his arms stretched up above his head. "I make you a present +of Anne Carfax," he said lightly. "Not that she is mine to give. But I +wouldn't keep her if she were. We belong to different spheres." + +"And yet--" Lucas said. + +"My dear fellow, that's an old story." Impulsively Nap cut in, almost +fierily. "Do you think the woman is living who could hold me after +all this time? I tell you that fire is burnt out. Why rake over the +dead ashes?" + +"I am looking for the Divine Spark," Lucas answered quietly. + +"And if you found it?" Nap's words came through smiling lips, and yet +they sounded savage. + +"If I found it," very steadily came the answer, "I would blow it to a +flame, Boney, for your sake--and hers." + +"For hers?" Something fierce showed in Nap's eyes. It was as if a goaded +animal suddenly looked out of them. + +Lucas must have seen it, for on the instant his manner changed. + +"We won't go any further," he said. "Only, dear fellow, I can't part with +you yet. Let that be understood. I want you." + +"So be it!" said Nap. "I will stay and see you married." + +And with the words he stooped and grasped his brother's hand for a +moment. + +"Go on and prosper, Luke," he said. "It's high time that you came into +your own." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE QUEEN'S PARDON + + +As soon as Anne entered Baronmead that evening she was aware of a +difference. Bertie, with a thunderous countenance, came forward to +meet her. She had not seen him wear that look in all the months of +Nap's absence. + +"The prodigal has returned," he told her briefly. "P'r'aps you know." + +She did not pretend to misunderstand him. She had schooled herself to +face the situation without shrinking. + +"Yes, I know," she said. "I met him at your house an hour ago." + +"At my house!" For a single instant Bertie looked downright murderous, +and then the sight of Anne's pale face made him restrain himself. + +"He didn't stay," she said rather wearily. "What of Luke? Has he +seen him?" + +"Can't understand Luke," muttered Bertie. "He's actually pleased. Say, +Lady Carfax, would it help any if I were to stop and dine?" + +"No," Anne said, smiling a little. "Go back to Dot, won't you? She is +expecting you." + +She saw that he was glad to follow her suggestion, and she was +undoubtedly glad to see him go. He was plainly in an explosive mood. + +Mrs. Errol came to her room while she was dressing. But Mrs. Errol had +had ample time to compose herself. She showed no agitation, and spoke of +Nap's unexpected arrival as if she were quite indifferent to his comings +and goings; but she hovered about Anne with a protecting motherliness +that did not need to express itself in words. When they went downstairs +she held Anne's arm very closely. + +But the ordeal that both were mutely dreading did not take place that +night. Nap did not present himself at the dinner-table, and they dined +alone in unspoken relief. + +Anne went to Lucas as usual when the meal was over, but she thought he +seemed tired and she did not remain with him long. + +He kept her hand for a moment when she stooped to bid him good-night. + +"Anne," he said gently, "I just want you to know, dear, that Nap will be +all right. Don't be anxious any. There is no need." + +He desired to reassure her, she saw; and she bent and kissed him. And +then for a moment a queer gust of passion possessed her, shook her from +head to foot. + +"Oh, Luke," she whispered, "can't you send him away again?" + +He looked up at her oddly, with eyes that seemed to see beyond her. And +then, "Good-night, dear," he said, as if he had not heard. + +She turned from him in silence. It was the first time she had ever +appealed to Lucas Errol in vain. + +She went to her room early that night. She told herself she must leave on +the morrow. She was urged by a deep unrest. She could not remain under +the same roof with this man who had once so cruelly tortured her. She +could not. Lucas must understand this. He must never ask it of her, +never--never! + +She did not in the least understand the latter's attitude. The more she +thought of it, the more it troubled her. She felt as if he had suddenly +ceased to be on her side, had, as it were, shut off his sympathy and left +her groping and alone. It was not like him to treat her thus. It hurt her +subtly, wounding her as she had never expected to be wounded, shaking her +faith in what she had ever believed to be immutable. And then she +remembered the physical weakness with which he had wrestled so long, and +a great pity flooded her heart. She would not let herself be hurt any +longer. Was he not reserving his strength for her sake? And could she +not, for his, face bravely this sudden obstacle that had arisen in her +path? Moreover, had he not told her that all would be well? And he had +said it as one who knew. Why, then, was she harbouring this wild dismay? + +Why? Why? She asked the question, but she did not seek the answer. She +dared not. + +And yet in the morning she went down with a calm aspect, resolute and +unafraid. Once more she was compelling herself to do simply that which +lay nearest to her hand. + +Nap came out of a room near the foot of the stairs as she descended. +He scarcely looked at her, but quite obviously he had been awaiting +her coming. + +"May I have two words with you before you join the mater?" he asked. + +With her whole soul she wanted to refuse. Yet without visible hesitation +she yielded. She turned aside into the room he had just quitted. + +He followed, and, closing the door, came forward to the table. It was +littered with guns and cleaning apparatus. He had evidently been +employing himself while he waited, and he at once took up an oily rag and +resumed operations, his swarthy face bent over his task, his lips very +firmly compressed. + +Anne waited for a moment or two. His attitude puzzled her. She had become +so accustomed to the fierce directness of his stare that its absence +disconcerted her. + +"What is it you wish to say to me?" she asked at length. + +At the first sound of her voice he ceased to work, but still he did not +raise his eyes. + +"On my own account--nothing," he said, speaking very deliberately. "But +as my sojourn here may be an offence to you, I think it advisable to +explain at the outset that I am not a free agent. My brother has +decreed it, and as you know"--a hint of irony crept into his voice--"his +will is my law." + +"I understand," said Anne gravely, but even as she spoke she was asking +herself what possible motive had prompted this explanation. + +He jerked up his head and she caught the glint of his fiery eyes for an +instant. "You--care for Lucas, Lady Carfax?" he said. + +Her heart gave a sudden throb that hurt her intolerably. For a moment she +could not speak. + +Then, "Yes," she said. "I love him." + +Nap was pulling mechanically at the rag he held. It began to tear between +his hands. She watched him ripping it to shreds. + +Suddenly he seemed to realise what he was doing, and tossed it from him. +He looked her straight in the eyes. + +"Have you fixed the date for your coronation?" he asked. + +Her eyes fell instantly. "Will you tell me what you mean?" she said. + +"Is my meaning obscure?" + +She compelled herself to answer him steadily. "If you mean our marriage, +it will not take place for some time, possibly not this year." + +"Why not?" said Nap. "Are you a slave to etiquette?" + +The thing sounded preposterous on his lips. She faintly smiled. "The +decision does not lie with me." + +"Ah!" he said shrewdly. "The privilege of kings! You will still be a +queen before you are thirty. And your first act will be to expel the +court jester--if he waits to be expelled." + +She saw his grim smile for an instant, and knew that he was playing his +old fencing game with her, but at the same time she knew that there was +no antagonism behind his point. How the knowledge came to her she could +not have said, but she realised afterwards that it was at that moment +that she began to perceive that the devil had gone out of Nap Errol. The +conviction was slow in growing, but it was then that it first took root; +it was then that her fear of the man began to die away. + +She raised her eyes. "Why should I do that, Nap?" + +He made her a deep bow. "Because I have been unfortunate enough to incur +your displeasure." + +There was a moment of silence, then, in obedience to that instinct to +which in rare moments she yielded herself and which never played her +false, Anne held out her hand to him. "I forgive you," she said. + +He started. He evidently had not expected that from her. Perhaps he had +not wanted it. Later she wondered. But he showed no awkwardness of +indecision. Only once had she ever seen him at a loss, and of that once +she would never voluntarily think again. + +He took her hand upon his sleeve and bent over it. She thought he was +going to kiss it, and a sharp dread went through her. But he only touched +it for a single instant with his forehead. + +"For Luke's sake?" he said, not looking at her. + +"For your own," she made answer, almost as if she could not help herself. + +"Because?" he questioned. + +"Because I know you love him," she said. "Because I know that you will be +loyal to him." + +"Though I may be false to you?" he said. + +She bent her head. "I am only a woman. I am afraid your experience of +women has not taught you to respect them." + +He picked up the gun again and fell to work upon it. "My experience of +one woman at least," he said, "has taught me--something different, +something I am not likely to forget." + +It was the end of the interview. In silence Anne turned to go. He wheeled +round and opened the door for her, but he did not look at her again, nor +she at him. When the door closed between them she felt as if a great +silence had fallen in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SOMETHING GREAT + + +On the day succeeding Nap's return Dot went to tea at Baronmead. She was +a very constant visitor there. Lucas always enjoyed her bright presence +and welcomed her with warmth. But Dot was not feeling very bright that +day. She looked preoccupied, almost worried. + +She found that Mrs. Errol and Anne had gone out, and, as her custom was +when she found the house deserted, she went straight to her +brother-in-law's room. + +Tawny Hudson answered her knock at the outer door, and she was struck by +the lowering look the great half-breed wore. His expression was +positively villainous, and sharp as a pin-prick there darted through her +the memory of her first visit to Baronmead, and the hatred of Nap Errol +she had that day seen revealed in the man's eyes. She had never given the +matter a thought since. To-day it awoke to life, stirring within her a +vague apprehension. + +"How is your master, Tawny?" she asked. + +"He is not so well, madam," said Tawny Hudson, but he opened the door +wide notwithstanding, inviting her to enter. + +She went in. The room adjoined that in which Lucas lay, and Hudson was +always there when not actually in attendance upon his master, except in +his off hours, which were as few as Lucas would permit. + +"May I see him?" said Dot. "Or would he rather not be disturbed?" + +Hudson stepped to the closed door and listened, his great red head bent +almost to the keyhole. + +After a few moments he stood up and softly turned the handle. He made a +brief sign to her and passed noiselessly into the room. + +Dot remained where she was. She heard Lucas accost him at once, and +caught the murmur of the man's low-spoken reply. And then in a moment +Hudson came back to her. + +"Will you go in, madam?" he said, in his careful English that always made +her think of an animal that had been taught to speak. + +She went in, treading lightly, relieved to leave the man's heavy scowling +visage behind her. + +"Come right in," said Lucas hospitably. "It's real good of you to come +and see me like this." + +She took his outstretched hand, looking at him anxiously. She saw that he +had not slept for many hours. Though he smiled at her, there was a grey +look about his lips that made her wonder if he were in pain. + +"Sit down," he said gently. "It's nothing. Only another bad night. I +can't expect to sleep soundly always." + +"How disappointing!" Dot murmured. + +"Not surprising though. I had an exciting day yesterday. You heard of +Nap's return?" + +"Yes." There was a very decided cloud upon Dot's face. "I saw him." + +"Well?" said Lucas. + +She turned to him impulsively. "Isn't it horrid when the thing you've +been planning for and wanting ever so long happens and everyone else +is cross?" + +The blue eyes looked quizzical. "Very, I should say," said Lucas. "Would +it be presumptuous to ask what has been happening and who is cross?" + +Dot's answering smile held more of pathos than mirth. Her lips took a +quivering, downward droop. "It's Nap," she said. + +He raised his brows a little. "Nap seems the general pivot on which all +grievances turn," he remarked. + +Dot leaned her chin on her hand. "I do so hate making mistakes," she +said. + +"We all do it," said Lucas. + +"Oh, you don't!" She turned and gravely regarded him. "You are always +wise," she said, "never headlong." + +"Which only demonstrates your ignorance and the kindness of your heart," +said Lucas. "But go on, won't you? What has Nap been doing?" + +"Oh, nothing. Nap is all right. It isn't Nap I mind." Again that doleful +droop of the lips became apparent, together with a little quiver of the +voice undeniably piteous. "It--it's Bertie," whispered Dot. "I--I--it's +very ridiculous, isn't it? I'm a wee bit afraid of Bertie, do you know?" + +"St. Christopher!" said Lucas, in astonishment. + +"Yes. But you won't ever tell him, will you?" she pleaded anxiously. +"If--if he knew or guessed--all my prestige would be gone. I shouldn't +be able to manage him at all. He--he is rather difficult to manage +sometimes, don't you think?" + +Lucas was frowning slightly. "I guess I can manage him," he said. + +"No doubt you could. I expect you always have. He respects you," said +Dot, with unwitting wistfulness. + +Lucas turned his head and looked at her very steadily. "Will you tell me +something, Dot?" he said. + +She nodded. + +"Why are you afraid of Bertie?" + +She hesitated. + +"Come!" he said. "Surely you're not afraid of me too!" + +The banter in his voice was touched with a tenderness that went straight +to Dot's young heart. She leaned down impetuously and held his hand. + +"No," she said tremulously. "I'm not such a little idiot as that, Luke. +I'm afraid of Bertie because I've done something he wouldn't like. It's +a very little thing, Luke. It is, really. But--but it's bothered me off +and on all the winter. And now that Nap is home, I feel much worse--as +if--as if it had been really wrong. And--and"--she broke down +suddenly--"I know I ought to tell him. But--I can't." + +"Tell me," said Lucas gently. + +"And you will tell him for me?" + +"If you wish me to do so." + +"I don't like it," sobbed Dot. "It's so despicable of me. I've wanted to +tell him for ever so long. But he has been so good to me all this time, +and--and somehow I couldn't face it. We haven't even squabbled for months +now. It--it seemed such a pity to spoil everything when it really didn't +make any difference to anyone if he knew or not." + +"Don't cry," interposed Lucas. "It would hurt Bertie if he knew." + +"Dear Bertie!" whispered Dot. "Isn't it horrid of me to be such a coward? +I haven't done anything really wrong either. In fact at the time it +seemed almost right." + +"Almost!" said Lucas, faintly smiling. + +She smiled also through her tears. "Why don't you call me a humbug? Well, +listen! It was like this. One night in the beginning of the winter Bertie +and I had a disagreement about Nap. It wasn't at all important. But I had +to stick up for him, because I had chanced to see him just before he +left in the summer--you remember--when he was very, very miserable?" + +"I remember," said Lucas. + +He spoke rather wearily, but his eyes never left her face. He was +listening intently. + +"And I was frightfully sorry for him," proceeded Dot, "though at the +time I didn't know what was the matter. And I couldn't let Bertie say +horrid things about him. So I fired up. And then Bertie told me"--she +faltered a little--"about Nap caring for Lady Carfax. And that was where +the trouble began. He didn't give him credit for really loving her, +whereas I knew he did." + +Strong conviction sounded in Dot's voice. The blue eyes that watched her +opened a little. + +"That so?" said Lucas. + +"Oh, I was sure," she said. "I was sure. There are some things a woman +can't help knowing. It was the key to what I knew before. I +understood--at once." + +"And then?" said Lucas. + +"Then, of course, I remembered that Lady Carfax was free. And I asked +Bertie if he knew. You see, I thought it possible that in her heart she +might be caring for him too. I knew they had always been friends. And Sir +Giles was such a brute to her. No woman could ever have loved him. I +think most people couldn't help knowing that. And it seemed only fair +that Nap should know that Sir Giles was dead. I told Bertie so. He didn't +agree with me." Dot paused and vigorously dried her eyes. "I still don't +think he was right," she said. + +"P'r'aps not." Lucas spoke meditatively. "There's a good deal to be said +for woman's intuition," he said. + +"It seemed to me a matter of fair play," maintained Dot. "He didn't know +where Nap was, only his club address. And he wouldn't write himself, so +I just wrote a single line telling Nap that Sir Giles was dead, and sent +it off that night. I didn't tell Bertie. It didn't seem to matter much +then, and I knew it might be ages before Nap got it. But now that that +line has brought him back, I feel as if he ought to know--particularly +as Bertie is so angry with him for returning. And Anne too--Anne nearly +fainted when she saw him. I felt as if I had landed everybody in a +hopeless muddle." Again Dot wiped her eyes. "And I had so wanted him to +come," she ended. + +"Don't fret," said Lucas very kindly. "I wanted him too." + +She looked at him eagerly. "You think as I do? You think he cares +for Anne?" + +"I guess so," he answered, "since your letter brought him back." + +"And--and Anne? Do you think--do you really think--?" + +"I guess so," he said again. + +He lay silent for a while, his eyes drooping heavily, till she even began +to wonder if he were falling asleep. + +At length, "Dot," he said, "have I your permission to make what use I +like of this?" + +She gave a slight start. "You are going to tell Bertie?" + +He looked at her. "My dear," he said, "I think Bertie had better know." + +She nodded. "I know he ought. But he will be furious with me." + +"Not if I talk to him," said Lucas, with his quiet smile. + +"But it's so mean of me," she protested. "And I'm sure it's bad for you." + +He reached out his hand to her. "No, it isn't bad for me, Dot. It's just +the best thing possible. You've put me in the way of something great." + +She squeezed his hand. "Do you really think you can make things go +right?" + +"Under God," said Lucas gravely. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING + + +Notwithstanding Lucas's assurance, Dot awaited her husband's coming in +undisguised trepidation that night. + +She had not seen Nap since that brief glimpse of him in the hall when +Anne had so nearly swooned. She did not so much as know if Bertie had +seen him at all. They had not met on the previous evening, but Bertie's +aspect had been so thunderous ever since he had heard of his return that +she had been on thorns lest he should present himself again at the Dower +House. That he would come sooner or later she knew, but she hoped with +all her heart that it might not be when Bertie was at home. + +She was convinced, moreover, that Bertie was going to be very angry with +her, and her heart sank the more she thought of it. Bertie's anger had +become a hard thing to face since he had made her know the depths of his +tenderness. + +The night was chilly, and her suspense made her cold. She sat very close +to the fire in the cosy curtained hall, shivering, and straining her +ears to catch the sound of his feet on the gravel. She had worked herself +into a state of anxiety that made her start at the faintest noise. + +It was nearing the dinner-hour, and she was beginning to wonder if +perhaps he were staying at Baronmead to dine, though he had never done so +before without sending her word, when there came the sudden hoot of a +motor and the rush of wheels upon the drive. + +She sat up, every pulse beating. It must be one of the Baronmead motors. +But Bertie always walked. + +She heard the car stop at the door, and she rose to her feet, scarcely +knowing what to expect. The next moment the door opened and she heard +Bertie's voice. + +"The car will be all right," he said. "It's a fine night. Go in, won't +you? I expect Dot is waiting." + +And with amazement Dot saw Nap enter the hall in front of her husband. + +He came straight to her just as he had come on the previous day, and she +had a moment of sheer panic lest he should have the effrontery to kiss +her; but he spared her this, though the smile with which he greeted her +told her that he was quite aware of her embarrassment and its cause. + +"Bertie has taken upon himself to ask me to dine," he said, as he held +her hand. "I hope that is quite agreeable to Mrs. Bertie?" + +"Of course I am delighted," she said, but her eyes sought Bertie's +somewhat anxiously notwithstanding. + +She saw with relief that the cloud had gone from his face. He came +forward, bent, and kissed her. His hand lay upon her shoulder for an +instant with a quick, reassuring touch, and she knew that all was well. + +"Heavens, child! How cold you are!" he said. "I'll bring you down a +shawl, shall I? Come along, Nap. We are late." + +They went upstairs together, and Dot waited below, listening to their +voices in careless converse and wondering by what means Lucas had wrought +so amazing a change. + +She wondered still more during dinner, for Nap was plainly upon his best +behaviour. He seemed determined that Bertie should be on easy terms with +him, and he was in a great measure successful. Though reticent, Bertie +was undoubtedly cordial. + +At the appearance of dessert Nap rose. "I must be getting back to +Lucas," he said. + +"Oh, skittles! He won't be wanting you," Bertie protested. "Sit down +again, man. You haven't been here an hour." + +But Nap was not to be persuaded. "Many thanks, but I'm going all the +same. I want to secure him a good night if possible. Good-bye, Mrs. +Bertie!" He bent and kissed her hand. "I am going to be pretty busy for +the next week or two, but I shall call on you when I have time." + +He took a cigarette from Bertie's case, and went out without stopping +to light it. + +Bertie followed him into the hall. "Shall I come?" he asked. + +"No," said Nap. + +He found a paper spill on the mantelpiece and lighted it. As he held it +to his cigarette he looked at Bertie with a smile. + +"Remember that day I baited you? It must be about a year ago." + +Bertie looked uncomfortable. "I remember," he said shortly. + +Abruptly Nap thrust out his hand. "I've eaten your salt now," he said. +"I'll never bait you again." + +Bertie gave his hand. "Is that what you wanted to dine for?" + +"Partly." Nap's fingers gripped and held. "Also I wanted to persuade you +that we are fighting for the same thing, only maybe with different +weapons. You'll bear it in mind, eh, friend Bertie?" + +Bertie looked at him hard for an instant. "I will," he said impulsively. + +"Good!" said Nap laconically. "It isn't going to be a walk over, but I +guess we'll pull it off between us." + +"Amen!" said Bertie fervently. + +And Nap wrung his hand and departed. For the first time in their +lives there was a friendly understanding between them. For the first +time Bertie was aware of a human heart throbbing behind that +impenetrable mask. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE FINAL DEFEAT + + +It was growing late that night when Lucas opened his eyes after a +prolonged and fruitless attempt to sleep, and found Nap standing at the +foot of the bed watching him. A lamp was burning in the room, but it was +turned very low. For a few seconds he lay wondering if the motionless +figure he saw had been conjured there by some trick of the shadows. Then +as he stirred he saw it move and at once he spoke. + +"Hullo, dear fellow! You! I never heard you come in." + +Nap stepped noiselessly to his side. "Don't talk!" he said. "Sleep!" + +"I can't sleep. It's no use. I was only pretending." Lucas stifled a sigh +of weariness. "Sit down," he said. + +But Nap stood over him and laid steady hands upon his wrists. His hold +was close and vital; it pressed upon the pulses as if to give them new +life. "You can sleep if you try," he said. + +Lucas shook his head with a smile. "I'm not a good subject, Boney. Thanks +all the same!" + +"Try!" Nap said insistently. + +But the blue eyes remained wide. "No, old chap. It's too high a price to +pay--even for sleep." + +"What do you mean?" There was a fierce note in the query, low as it was; +it was almost a challenge. + +Lucas answered it very quietly. "I mean that I'm afraid of you, Boney." + +"Skittles!" said Nap. + +"Yes, it may seem so to you; but, you see, I know what you are +trying to do." + +"What am I trying to do?" demanded Nap. + +Lucas paused for a moment; he was looking straight up into the harsh face +above his own. Then, "I know you," he said. "I know that you'll get the +whip hand of me if you can, and you'll clap blinkers on me and drive me +according to your own judgment. I never had much faith in your judgment, +Boney. And it is not my intention to be driven by you." + +There was no resentment in the tired voice, only unflagging +determination. + +Nap's hold slowly relaxed. "You don't trust me then?" + +"It's your methods I don't trust, dear fellow, not your motives. I'd +trust them to perdition." + +"But not my--honour?" Nap's lips twisted over the word. + +Lucas hesitated. "I believe you would be faithful to your own code," he +said at length. + +"But you don't consider that to trick a man who trusted me would be +against that code?" + +Again Lucas hesitated, and in the silence Nap straightened himself and +stood waiting, stern, implacable, hard as granite. + +"Don't do violence to yourself," he said cynically. + +On the instant Lucas spoke, in his voice a tremor that was almost +passionate. "Boney--Boney, old chap, have I wronged you? God knows I've +tried to be just. But are you straight? Are you honest? I'd give my soul +to be able to trust you. Only--dear fellow, forgive me--I can't!" + +Nap's hands clenched. "Why not?" he said. + +"Because," very slowly and painfully Lucas made reply, "I know that you +are trying to blind me. I know that you are sacrificing yourself--and +another--in order to deceive me. You are doing it to save me pain, +but--before God, Boney--you are torturing me in the doing far more than +you realise. I'd sooner die ten times over than endure it. I can bear +most things, but not this--not this!" + +Silence followed the words, a silence that was vital with many emotions. +Nap stood upright against the lamplight. He scarcely seemed to breathe, +and yet in his very stillness there was almost a hint of violence. He did +not attempt to utter a word. + +Lucas also lay awhile without speaking, as if exhausted. Then at length +he braced himself for further effort. "It seems to me there's only one +way out, Boney," he said gently. "It's no manner of use your trying to +deceive me any longer. I happen to know what brought you back, and I'm +thankful to know it. After all, her happiness comes first with both of +us, I guess. That's why I was so almighty pleased to see you in the first +place. That's why it won't hurt me any to let her go to you." + +Nap made a sharp movement and came out of his silence. "Luke, +you're mad!" + +"No, Boney, no! I'm saner than you are. When a fellow spends his life as +I do, he has time to look all round things. He can't help knowing. And +I'm not a skunk. It never was my intention to stand between her and +happiness." + +"Happiness!" Harshly Nap echoed the word; he almost laughed over it. +"Don't you know that she only tolerates me for your sake? She wouldn't +stay within a hundred miles of me if it weren't for you." + +"Oh, shucks, Boney!" A faint smile touched the worn face on the pillow. +"I know you hurt her infernally. But she will forgive you that--women do, +you know--though I guess she would have forgiven you easier if she hadn't +loved you." + +"Man, you're wrong!" Fiercely Nap flung the words. "I tell you there is +no love between us. I killed her love long ago. And as for myself--" + +"Love doesn't die," broke in Lucas Errol quietly. "I know all about it, +Boney. Guess I've always known. And if you tell me that your love for +Anne Carfax is dead, I tell you that you lie!" Again he faintly smiled. +"But I don't like insulting you, old chap. It's poor sport anyway. +Besides, I'm wanting you. That's why--" + +He stopped abruptly. A curious change had come over Nap, a change so +unexpected, so foreign to the man's grim nature, that even he, who knew +him as did none other, was momentarily taken by surprise. For suddenly, +inexplicably, Nap's hardness had gone from him. It was like the crumbling +of a rock that had withstood the clash of many tempests and yielded at +last to the ripple of a summer tide. + +With a sudden fierce movement he dropped down upon his knees beside the +bed, flinging his arms wide over his brother's body in such an agony of +despair as Lucas had never before witnessed. + +"I wish I were dead!" he cried out passionately. "I wish to Heaven I had +never lived!" + +It was a cry wrung from the very depths of the soul, a revelation of +suffering of which Lucas had scarcely believed him capable. It opened his +eyes to much that he had before but vaguely suspected. + +He laid a hand instantly and very tenderly upon the bowed head. "Shucks, +Boney!" he remonstrated gently. "Just when you are wanted most!" + +A great sob shook Nap. "Who wants me? I'm nothing but a blot on the face +of creation, an outrage, an abomination--a curse!" + +"You're just the biggest thing in that woman's life, dear fellow," +answered the tired voice. "You hang on to that. It'll hold you up, as God +always meant it should." + +Nap made an inarticulate sound of dissent, but the quiet restraint of his +brother's touch seemed to help him. He became still under it, as if some +spell were upon him. + +After a time Lucas went on in the weary drawl that yet held such an +infinite amount of human kindness. "Did you think I'd cut you out, Boney? +Mighty lot you seem to know of me! It's true that for a time I thought +myself necessary to her. Maybe, for a time I was. She hadn't much to live +for anyway. It's true that when you didn't turn up in Arizona I left off +expecting you to be faithful to yourself or to her. And so it seemed best +to take what she gave and to try to make her as happy as circumstances +would allow. But I never imagined that I ruled supreme. I know too well +that what a woman has given once she can never give again. I didn't +expect it of her. I never asked it. She gave me what she could, and I--I +did the same for her. But that bargain wouldn't satisfy either of us now. +No--no! We'll play the game like men--like brothers. And you must do your +part. Believe me, Boney, I desire nothing so earnestly as her happiness, +and if when I come to die I have helped to make this one woman happy, +then I shall not have lived in vain." + +Nap turned his head sharply. "Don't talk of dying! You couldn't die! And +do you seriously imagine for a single instant that I could ever give her +happiness?" + +"I imagine so, dear fellow, since she loves you." + +"I tell you she wouldn't have me if I asked her." + +"You don't know. Anyway, she must have the chance. If she doesn't take +it, well, she isn't the woman I imagine her to be." + +"She's a saint," Nap said, with vehemence. "And you, Luke,--you're +another. You were made for each other. She would be ten million times +happier with you. Why do you want her to marry a blackguard?" + +A shadow touched Lucas Errol's face, but it was only for an instant; the +next he smiled. "You are not a blackguard, Boney. I always said so. And +the love of a good woman will be your salvation. No, you're wrong. I +couldn't give her real happiness. There is only one man in the world can +give her that. And I--am not that man." He paused; his eyelids had begun +to droop, heavily. "Say, Nap, I believe I could sleep now," he said. + +"Yes, yes, old chap, you shall." Nap raised himself abruptly, banishing +his weakness in a breath; only a certain unwonted gentleness remained. +"You shall," he said again. "Guess you won't be afraid now you have got +your own way. But just one thing more. You'll be wanting all your +strength for yourself for the next few weeks. Will you--for my sake if +you like--put all this by till you are winning out on the other side? She +would say the same, if she knew." + +Lucas opened his eyes again, opened them wide, and fixed them steadily, +searchingly, upon his brother's face. + +"You'll play the straight game with me, Boney?" he questioned. "You won't +try to back out?" Then, in a different tone, "No, don't, answer! Forgive +me for asking! I know you." + +"I guess you do," Nap said, with the ghost of a smile, "better even than +I know myself. You know just how little I am to be trusted." + +"I trust you, Boney, absolutely, implicitly, from the bottom of my soul." + +The words left Lucas Errol's lips with something of the solemnity of an +oath. He held out a quiet hand. + +"Now let me sleep," he said. + +Nap rose. He stood for a moment in silence, holding the friendly hand, as +if he wished to speak, but could not. Then suddenly he bent. + +"Good-night, dear chap!" he said in a whisper, and with the words he +stooped and kissed the lined forehead of the man who trusted him.... + +Half an hour later the door of the adjoining room opened noiselessly and +Tawny Hudson peered in. + +One brother was sleeping, the quiet, refreshing sleep of a mind at rest. +The other sat watching by his side with fixed inscrutable eyes. + +The latter did not stir, though in some indefinable way he made Tawny +Hudson know that he was aware of his presence, and did not desire his +closer proximity. Obedient to the unspoken command, the man did not come +beyond the threshold; but he stood there for many seconds, glowering with +the eyes of a monstrous, malignant baboon. + +When at length he retired he left the door ajar, and a very curious smile +flickered across Nap's face. + +But still he did not turn his head. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT THE GATE OF DEATH + + +The second time that Tawny Hudson was driven from his master's side was +on a day of splendid spring--English April at its best. + +Till the very last moment he lingered, and it was Lucas himself with his +final "Go, Tawny!" who sent him from the room. They would not even let +him wait, as Nap was waiting, till the anaesthetic had done its work. +Black hatred gripped the man's heart as he crept away. What was Nap +anyway that he should be thus honoured? The cloud that had attended his +coming had made a deep impression upon Hudson. He had watched the lines +upon his master's face till he knew them by heart. He knew when anxiety +kept the weary eyes from closing. He knew when the effort of the mind was +more than the body could endure. Of Lucas's pleasure at his brother's +return he raised no question, but that it would have been infinitely +better for him had Nap remained away he was firmly convinced. And he knew +with the sure intuition that unceasing vigilance had developed in him +that Capper thought the same. + +Capper resented as he did the intrusion of the black sheep of the +family. But Capper was obviously powerless--even Capper, who so +ruthlessly expelled him from his master's presence, had proved impotent +when it came to removing Nap. + +There was a mysterious force about Nap that no one seemed able to +resist. He, Hudson, had felt it a hundred times, had bowed to it in +spite of himself. He called it black magic in his own dark heart, and +because of it his hatred almost amounted to a mania. He regarded him +with superstition, as a devilish being endowed with hellish powers that +might at any moment be directed against his enemies. And he feared his +influence over Lucas, even though with all his monstrous imaginings he +recognised the fact of Lucas's ascendency. He had a morbid dread lest +some day his master should be taken unawares, for in Nap's devotion he +placed not a particle of faith. And mingled with his fears was a +burning jealousy that kept hatred perpetually alive. There was not one +of the duties that he performed for his master that Nap had not at one +time or another performed, more swiftly, more satisfactorily, with that +devilish deftness of his that even Capper had to admire and Hudson +could never hope to achieve. And in his inner soul the man knew that +the master he idolised preferred Nap's ministrations, Nap's sure and +dexterous touch, to his. + +And so on that day of riotous spring he waited with murder in his heart +to see his enemy emerge from the closed room. + +But he waited in vain. No hand touched the door against which he stood. +Within the room he heard only vague movements, and now and then Capper's +voice, sharp and distinct, giving a curt order. Two doctors and two +nurses were there to do his bidding, to aid him in the working of his +miracle; two doctors, two nurses, and Nap. + +Gradually as the minutes passed the truth dawned upon the great +half-breed waiting outside. Against Capper's wish, probably in defiance +of it, Nap was remaining for the operation itself. Suspicion deepened +swiftly to conviction, and a spasm of indignation akin to frenzy took +possession of the man. Doubtless Capper had remonstrated without result, +but he--he, Tawny Hudson--could compel. Fiercely he turned and pulled the +handle of the door. + +It resisted him. He had not heard the key turned upon him, yet undeniably +the door was locked. Fury entered into him. Doubtless this also was the +work of his enemy. He seized the handle, twisted, dragged, wrenched, till +it broke in his hand and he was powerless. + +No one within the room paid any attention to him. No one came to open; +and this fact served to inflame him further. For a few lurid moments +Tawny Hudson saw red. He gathered his huge bull-frame together and flung +the whole weight of it against the resisting wood. He was powerless to +force the lock, as the door opened towards him, but this fact did not +discourage him. It scarcely entered into his reckoning. He was nothing at +the moment but a savage beast beyond all reasoning and beyond control. + +The panels resisted his violent onslaught, but he was undaunted. With +scarcely a pause he drew off and prepared for another. But at the very +instant that he was about to hurl himself the second time, a voice spoke +on the other side of the door. + +"Tawny!" + +Tawny stood as if transfixed, his eyes starting, bestial foam upon his +lips. + +"Tawny!" said the voice again--the voice of his enemy, curt and +imperious. "Go and find Mr. Bertie, and tell him he is wanted." + +Through the closed door the magic reached the frenzied man. He remained +motionless for a few seconds, but the order was not repeated. At the end +of the interval the magic had done its work. He turned and slunk away. + +A minute later Bertie, very pale and stern, presented himself at the +closed door. + +"What is it, Nap?" + +Contemptuously clear came the answer. "Nothing here. Stay where you are, +that's all, and keep that all-fired fool Hudson from spoiling his +master's chances." + +Bertie turned to look at the man who had come up behind him, and in +turning saw the door-handle at his feet. + +He pointed to it. "Your doing?" + +Hudson shrank under the accusing blue eyes so like his master's. He began +to whimper like a beaten dog. + +Bertie picked up the knob. "Poor devil!" he muttered; and then aloud: +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Do you call this a man's game?" + +Tawny cringed in abject misery. He was completely subdued. With the +smallest encouragement he would have grovelled at Bertie's feet. + +Bertie came away from the door and sat down. His own anxiety was almost +insupportable, but he cloaked it with determined resolution. "Sit down +there!" he said, pointing to a distant chair. "And don't move until I +give you leave." + +Meekly the man obeyed him, sitting crouched, his head between his hands. + +Bertie regarded him with a severity more assumed than actual. He had not +the heart to send him away. He knew it would have been sheer cruelty. + +A long time passed. Neither of the two watchers stirred. Tawny Hudson did +not even seem to breathe. He sat like a human image of despair. + +Noon came and passed. Somewhere in the distance church bells began to +peal. Bertie started a little. He had forgotten it was Sunday. Dot would +be just driving home from church. She would not come to Baronmead, he +knew. It had been her original intention, but he had dissuaded her. He +knew that she was very anxious, but he would not have her run the risk of +a shock. If the operation failed, if Luke were to die, he would tell her +himself. He knew that he could soften the blow as none other could. + +It was nearly one when at last the closed door opened. Bertie was on his +feet in an instant. Dr. Randal came quietly out, glanced round, stopped. + +"It is over. We have taken him into the inner room, and he is recovering +consciousness. No, don't go to him. His man mustn't go either. We want +all these doors open, wide open, the windows too. But no one is to go +near. He must have absolute quiet." + +He propped open the door as he spoke. His face was very grave. + +"Remember," he said, "that the banging of this door or any sudden sound +may mean the end." + +"Is he so bad then?" said Bertie, speaking with effort. + +"He is very bad indeed," the doctor answered. "The operation has been a +protracted one. If he lives, it will be a success. But there is great +weakness of the heart's action. Any moment may be the last. Dr. Capper +will not leave him at present. Your brother is there too." He paused a +moment. "Your brother is a wonderful man," he said, with the air of a man +bestowing praise against his will. "If you will be good enough to order +some refreshment I will take it in. On no account is Mr. Errol's servant +to go near." + +Slowly the hours of a day that seemed endless dragged away. Bertie went +home to his wife in the afternoon, taking Tawny Hudson, subdued and +wretched, with him. + +In the evening he returned, the man still following him like a pariah +dog, to find the situation unaltered. Capper and Nap were still with +Lucas, whose life hung by a thread. + +Bertie decided to remain for the night, and at a late hour he saw Capper +for a moment. The great man's face was drawn and haggard. + +"He won't last through the night," he said. "Tell the ladies to be in +readiness. I will send for them if there is time." + +"No hope whatever?" said Bertie. + +Capper shook his head. "I fear--none. He is just running down--sinking. I +think you had better not come in, but stay within call." + +He was gone again, and Bertie was left to give his message, and then to +wait in anguish of spirit for the final call. + +The night was still. Only the draught from the wide-flung doors and +windows stirred through the quiet rooms. Mrs. Errol and Anne shared +Bertie's vigil in the room that opened out of that in which Lucas Errol +was making his last stand. Humbly, in a corner, huddled Tawny Hudson, +rocking himself, but making no sound. + +Within the room Capper sat at the foot of the bed, motionless, alert as +a sentry. A nurse stood like a statue, holding back the bellying +window-curtain. And on his knees beside the bed, the inert wrists gripped +close in his sinewy fingers, was Nap. + +The light of a shaded lamp shone upon his dusky face, showing the gleam +of his watchful eyes, the crude lines of jaw and cheek-bone. He looked +like a figure carved in bronze. + +For hours he had knelt so in unceasing vigilance, gazing unblinking +and tireless at the exhausted face upon the pillow. It might have been +the face of a dead man upon which he gazed, but the pulses that +fluttered in his hold told him otherwise. Lucas still held feebly, +feebly, to his chain. + +It was nearly an hour after midnight that a voice spoke in the +utter silence. + +"Boney!" + +"I'm here, old chap." + +"Good-bye, dear fellow!" It was scarcely more than a whisper. It seemed +to come from closed lips. + +"Open your eyes," said Nap. + +Slowly the heavy lids opened. The blue eyes met the deep, mysterious gaze +focussed upon them. + +Silent as a ghost Capper glided forward. The nurse left the window, and +the curtain floated out into the room, fluttering like an imprisoned +thing seeking to escape. + +"Ah, but, Boney--" the tired voice said, as though in protest. + +And Nap's voice, thrilled through and through with a tenderness that was +more than human, made answer. "Just a little longer, dear old man! Only a +little longer! See! I'm holding you up. Turn up the lamp, doctor. Take +off the shade. He can't see me. There, old chap! Look at me now. Grip +hold of me. You can't go yet. I'm with you. I'm holding you back." + +Capper trickled something out of a spoon between the pale lips, and for a +little there was silence. + +But the blue eyes remained wide, fixed upon those other fiery eyes that +held them by some mysterious magic from falling into sightlessness. + +Three figures had come in through the open door, moving wraith-like, +silently. The room seemed full of shadows. + +After a while Lucas spoke again, and this time his lips moved +perceptibly. "It's such a long way back, Boney,--no end of a trail--and +all up hill." + +The flare of the lamp was full upon Nap's face; it threw the harsh lines +into strong relief, and it seemed to Anne, watching, that she looked upon +the face of a man in extremity. His voice too--was that Nap's voice +pleading so desperately? + +"Don't be faint-hearted, old chap! I'll haul you up. It won't be so tough +presently. You're through the worst already. Hold on, Luke, hold on!" + +Again Capper poured something between the parted lips, and a quiver ran +through the powerless body. + +"Hold on!" Nap repeated. "You promised you would. You mustn't go yet, old +boy. You can't be spared. I shall go to the devil without you." + +"Not you, Boney!" Lucas's lips quivered into a smile. "That's all over," +he said. "You're playing--the straight game--now." + +"You must stay and see it through," said Nap. "I can't win out +without you." + +"Ah!" A long sigh came pantingly with the word. "That so, Boney? Guess +I'm--a selfish brute--always was--always was." + +A choked sob came through the stillness. Bertie suddenly covered his +face. Mrs. Errol put her arm round him as one who comforted a child. + +"Is that--someone--crying?" gasped Lucas. + +"It's that ass Bertie," answered Nap, without stirring so much as +an eyelid. + +"Bertie? Poor old chap! Tell him he mustn't. Tell him--I'll hang on--a +little longer--God willing; but only a little longer, Boney, only--a +little--longer." + +There was pleading in the voice, the pleading of a man unutterably tired +and longing to be at rest. + +Anne, standing apart, was cut to the heart with the pathos of it. But Nap +did not seem to feel it. He knelt on, inflexible, determined, all his +iron will, all his fiery vitality, concentrated upon holding a man in +life. It was not all magnetism, it was not all strength of purpose, it +was his whole being grappling, striving, compelling, till inch by inch he +gained a desperate victory. + +In the morning the fight was over. In the morning Lucas Errol had turned, +reluctantly as it seemed to Anne, from the Gate of Death. + +And while he lay sleeping quietly, the spring air, pure and life-giving, +blowing across his face, the man who had brought him back rose up from +his bedside, crept with a noiseless, swaying motion from the room, and +sank senseless on the further side of the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE KING'S DECREE + + +For three weeks after the operation Capper said nothing good or bad of +his patient's condition, and during those weeks he scarcely went beyond +the terrace. He moved about like a man absorbed, and it seemed to Anne +whenever they met that he looked at her without seeing her. + +Nap was even closer in his attendance, and Tawny Hudson found himself +more than ever supplanted and ignored. For night and day he was at hand, +sleeping when and how he could, always alert at the briefest notice, +always ready with unfailing nerve and steady hand. + +And Capper suffered him without the smallest remonstrance. He seemed to +take it for granted that Nap's powers were illimitable. + +"That young man will kill himself," Dr. Randal said once. "He is living +at perpetual high pressure." + +"Leave him alone," growled Capper. "He is the force that drives the +engine. The wheels won't go round without him." + +And this seemed true; for the wheels went round very, very slowly in +those days. Lucas Errol came back to life, urged by a vitality not his +own, and the Shadow of Death still lingered in his eyes. + +He did not suffer very greatly, and he slept as he had not slept for +years, but his progress was slow, sometimes imperceptible. The languor of +intense weakness hung like a leaden weight upon him. The old brave +cheeriness had given place to a certain curious wistfulness. He seemed +too weary for effort, content at all times to sleep the hours away. + +Yet when Capper demanded effort he yielded without protest. He did his +best, and he smiled at each evidence of returning powers. + +"I guess it's just an almighty success, doctor," he would say. "And +you've given me sleep into the bargain. It's blessed to be able to sleep. +I've a good many years of arrears to make up." + +On the day that Capper and Nap set him on his feet for the first time, +his weakness was such that he fainted; but he recovered and apologised, +and would even have faced the ordeal again had Capper permitted it. On +the following day he went through it without a tremor, and slept +thereafter for hours, scarcely rousing himself for nourishment. + +It was during that sleep that Nap left him, went out into the spring +woods, and remained absent for some time. Lucas was still sleeping when +he returned, and after a brief look at him he moved away into the +adjoining room and prowled to and fro there waiting. + +At the first sound of his brother's voice he was back by the bedside. + +Lucas smiled a welcome. "I'm better," he said, and held up a weak hand. + +It was the first time he had made the assertion. Nap took the hand and +laid it gently down. + +"You'll get well now," he said. + +The heavy drowsiness was less apparent than usual on Lucas's face. "I +don't know where I'd be without you, Boney," he said. "Do you know you're +looking awfully ill?" + +"Shucks!" said Nap. + +But Lucas continued his criticism undeterred. + +"You've spent too much of yourself on me, and I've been too damned +selfish to notice. I'm going to wake up now, Boney. I'm going to play the +game. You've been playing my hand as well as your own till now. I'm going +to relieve you of that." + +"Hear, hear!" said Nap. + +"You'll go to bed in your own room to-night," said Lucas, "go to bed and +to sleep. In the morning we'll have a talk." + +But when the morning came, his energy had flagged a little. He had not +slept as well as usual, and though he had no pain he seemed disinclined +for physical effort. + +"I want a holiday to-day," he said to Capper. "Just let in the sunshine +and leave me to bask." + +There had been a spell of cold and sunless weather, but that day the sun +shone gloriously. The genial warmth of it came in through the open +window and flooded the room with the very essence of spring. + +"I'm going to take a day off and enjoy it," smiled Lucas. "You take a day +off too, doctor. Make the mater go out in the car. I shall do wonders +to-morrow after a good laze to-day." + +Capper looked him over keenly, pulled his beard, cracked his fingers, and +yielded. "Guess a rest won't do you any harm. There's no reason to hustle +you any that I can see." + +And Lucas spent the whole morning basking in the sunshine in almost +unbroken silence. He did not sleep at all. His eyes, remote and +thoughtful, were for the most part watching the specks that danced and +floated in the rays of light that streamed across his bed. + +Nap forebore to disturb him, but he remained within call. He knew with +sure intuition that sooner or later Lucas would summon him. Almost he +knew what he would say. + +The call came at last, very quiet and deliberate. "Boney!" + +Instantly Nap presented himself. + +"Come here a minute, old chap. No, I'm not wanting anything--only a word +in private. Say, Boney, is Anne still stopping here?" + +He had seen her nearly every day since the operation, but he had been too +drowsy to ask any questions. He had only smiled upon her, and sometimes +for a little had held her hand. + +"She is backwards and forwards," said Nap. "I believe she is spending +to-night." + +"Ah! Then, Boney, I want you to speak to her--to-night." He looked up at +his brother with his old, kindly smile. "It's for my own sake, old chap," +he said. "You know, I didn't sleep last night. I was thinking about +her--about you both. And I want her to know everything to-night. I shall +sleep the easier when she knows." + +Nap stood silent. His face was set in hard lines. + +"Will you tell her, Boney?" + +"What am I to tell her?" said Nap, + +"Tell her the truth, dear fellow, so that she understands it. Make her +realise that the dearest wish of my life is her happiness--and yours." He +reached up a hand to the motionless figure beside him. "Just this one +thing, Boney," he pleaded gently. "Remember--I came back because of it. +It will be my happiness too. I want to feel that all is well between you. +God knows I want it more than anything else on earth." + +Nap gripped the proffered hand and held it fast. + +"But she won't have me, you know," he said, after a moment. "She only +forgave me because of you." + +"Shucks, dear fellow! I guess that wasn't the reason." + +"I wish to heaven you'd let me off," Nap said, with sudden +vehemence. "Let me shunt first instead of last. It's more than I +can face--even for you." + +"But I guess you'll face it all the same," said Lucas gently. "And when +it's over, come--both of you--and tell me." + +He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sunshine. "So long, old +chap!" he said. "Don't stay indoors. I'm not wanting you. Think I'll get +to sleep presently. Don't let them wake me if I do." + +But Nap lingered, still holding his hand. "Luke!" he said. + +There was a note of entreaty in his voice, but, for the second time in +his life, Lucas turned a deaf ear. The smile was still on his lips, but +his eyes remained closed. + +"Go, dear fellow!" he said softly. "And God bless you!" + +And Nap turned with a set face and went straight from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE STRAIGHT GAME + + +It was drawing towards evening on that same day when Anne, who had been +spending the afternoon at the Dower House, walked back across the park. +She went by way of the stream along which she and Nap had once skated +hand in hand in the moonlight, and as she went she stooped now and then +to gather the flowers that grew in the grass beside her path. But her +face as she did it was grave and thoughtful. She did not seem to notice +their fragrance. + +As she neared the lake she moved more slowly, and reaching a rustic seat +beneath a cedar that shadowed the entrance to the gardens she sat down, +her grey eyes fixed upon the water that gurgled at her feet. + +A brilliant green dragon-fly, darting meteor-like across her vision, came +presently to disturb her reverie. With a slight start she awoke, and +leaned forward with an odd eagerness to mark its progress. As it flashed +away through the shadows a quick sigh came to her lips. It was so fair a +thing, so swiftly gone. + +She gathered up her flowers and rose. And in that moment she knew that +she was not alone. + +How she knew it she could not have said. No sound or shadow told her. No +hand touched her. Yet she knew. + +For a few seconds she stood motionless on the edge of the stream. Then +without turning she spoke. + +"Were you looking for me?" + +"Yes," he said. + +He came to her side. They were close--close to that spot where once he +had so arrogantly claimed her friendship. To-day it seemed he had no +word to utter. + +For a space she waited, then, finding in his silence something that +disquieted her, she spoke again. + +"Is all well? Why are you not with Lucas?" + +"All's well," he said, but he left her second question unanswered. He was +gazing down intently into the clear water. + +Seconds passed. She glanced at him once or twice, but he seemed unaware +of her scrutiny. He made no movement to meet it. His dark face brooded +over the stream, almost as if she were not there. + +Her heart began to throb with thick, uneven strokes. What had he come to +say to her? And why did he stand thus silent? There was something tragic +about him, something almost terrible. + +She waited beside him in wordless foreboding. Whatever was coming she +felt powerless to avert. She could only brace herself to meet the +inevitable. + +In some fashion, though he never glanced her way, he must have been aware +of her agitation, for when he spoke again there was some measure of +reassurance in his voice, emotionless though it was. + +"I shan't alarm you," he said. "I shan't even ask you to answer me, much +less to treat me kindly. But you've got to hear me, that's all. I'm not +telling you for my own sake, only because Luke has ordained that you must +know. I daresay you thought it strange that I should have come back so +soon. It probably made you wonder." + +"It did," said Anne, in a low voice. + +"I knew it would." A note of grim satisfaction sounded in the rejoinder. +He jerked his head a little with a touch of the old arrogance. "Well, I +am here to explain. I knew the odds were dead against me when I +started--as they are to-day. All the same you are to understand that I +came back when I did because I had just heard that you were free and I +was mad enough to dream that in spite of everything I should one day +persuade you to marry me." + +He paused an instant, but he kept his eyes upon the water as if he were +reading something in the crystal depths. + +Anne still waited beside him, her hands clasped tightly upon her +drooping flowers. + +He continued very rapidly, as though he wished to have done. "That was +my true reason for coming back. I don't know if I deceived you any on +that point. I tried to. But anyway I didn't manage to deceive Lucas. He +sees most things. He knows for instance that I--care for you"--almost +angrily he flung the words--"and he thinks you ought to know it, in +case"--his lips twisted into a queer smile--"you care for me. It's a +preposterous idea anyway. I've told him so. But he won't be easy till +I've given you the chance to trample on me. Guess he thinks I owe you +that. Maybe I do. Well--you have your opportunity." + +"Do you think I want--that?" Anne said, her voice very low. + +His hands clenched. "I can't say," he said. "Most women would. But--if +you want to know--I'd sooner be trampled. I've promised I'll play the +straight game, and I'm playing it. I'm telling you the raw truth. I love +you. I have it in me to make you know it. But--" + +"But you love Lucas better" she said. + +He nodded. "Just that. Also, Lucas is a good man. He will set your +happiness first all his life. While I--while I"--he stooped a little, +still staring downwards as if he watched something--"while I, Lady +Carfax," he said, speaking very quietly, "might possibly succeed in +making you happy, but it wouldn't be the same thing. You would have to +live my life--not I yours. I am not like Lucas. I shouldn't be satisfied +with--a little." + +"And you think that is all I can offer him?" she said. + +He made a sharp gesture of repudiation. "I have no theories on that +subject. I believe you would satisfy him. I believe--ultimately--you +would both find the happiness we are all hunting for." + +"And you?" Anne said, her voice very low. + +He straightened himself with a backward fling of the shoulders, but still +he did not look at her. "I, Lady Carfax!" he said grimly. "I don't fit +into the scheme of things anyway. I was just pitchforked into your life +by an accident. It's for you to toss me out again." + +Anne was silent. She stood with her face to the sinking sun. She seemed +to be gathering her strength. + +At last, "What will you do?" she asked in the same hushed voice. "Where +will you go?" + +He turned slowly towards her. "I really don't know. I haven't begun +to think." + +His eyes looked deeply into hers, but they held no passion, no emotion of +any sort. They made her think with a sudden intolerable stab of pain of +that night when he had put out the fire of his passion to receive her +kiss. He had told her once that that kiss was the greatest thing that had +ever happened to him. Did he remember it now, she wondered, as she met +those brooding eyes, still and dark and lonely as they had been then, +unfathomable as a mountain pool. She did not fear to meet them. Only a +vast, surging pity filled her soul. She understood him so well--so well. + +"Nap," she said tremulously, "what can I say to you? What can I do?" + +He put out a quiet, unfaltering hand and took hers. "Don't be too good to +me," he said. "Don't worry any on my account. If you do, maybe Luke will +notice and misunderstand. He's so damnably shrewd." A brief smile crossed +his face. "I'll tell you what to do, Lady Carfax, and when it's done +you'll feel better. Come with me now to Lucas--it's his own idea--and +tell him you've no use for me. Put it how you like. Women can always do +these things. Make him know that he comes first with you still and always +will. Tell him you know all the truth and it hasn't made you change your +mind. Tell him you'd rather belong to a man you can trust. He'll believe +you, Anne. We all do." + +He spoke insistently. He had begun to draw her towards the path. But as +they reached it, his hand fell from hers. He walked beside her, close +beside her, but not by word or touch did he seek further to persuade her. + +And Anne walked steadily forward as one in a dream. It was the only thing +to do, since he had told her plainly that he desired it, since with both +of them Luke must for ever come first. He had drawn them together, he had +linked their hands, but he stood between them to do it, and neither of +them would suffer him to go. + +She supposed they would be friends again, she and Nap. She did not fear +that he would ever again cross the boundary line. His love for his +brother ran like a purifying current through his veins. It was the one +streak of greatness in him. Its very selflessness made it stronger than +his love for her. She knew with a certainty that nought could ever shake +that he would be true to Lucas, that never again by word or sign would he +betray that for which he had not scrupled to play her false. + +And because she was a woman and understood him she forgave him this. For +she knew that the greater loyalty had done for him that which she had +failed to do. She knew that in uttermost self-sacrifice Nap Errol, the +savage, the merciless, the treacherous, had found his soul. + +So side by side in silence they went back to the house. + +The evening was very still; passing in from the terrace they seemed to +enter an enchanted palace wherein nothing stirred. + +"He may be asleep," Nap said. "Shall I go first?" + +She assented without speaking. Somehow the spell of silence seemed to +hold her also. + +Tawny Hudson was on guard as usual in the outer room. He looked up with +resentful eyes as they entered, but he said nothing. The door into his +master's room stood half open. Nap paused at it a moment to listen. He +turned to Anne, and she fancied just for a second that there was a +shade of anxiety on his face. But it was gone instantly, if indeed it +had been there. + +"Follow me in a minute," he said, "if I don't come back." + +And with that he glided through the narrow space and passed from sight. + +A minute later, absolute silence reigning, Anne softly pushed back the +door and entered. + +She found Nap crouched motionless with outflung arms across the foot +of the bed. + +And drawing nearer, she saw that Lucas Errol was lying asleep with his +face to the sky, all the lines of pain smoothed utterly away, and on his +lips that smile which some call the Stamp of Death, and others the +shining reflection of the Resurrection Glory which the passing soul has +left behind. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE TRANSFORMING MAGIC + + +No clamour of mourning broke the spell of silence that lay upon +Baronmead. Those who wept hid their grief behind closed doors. But those +to whom Lucas was dearest shed the fewest tears. His mother went about +with a calmness of aspect that never faltered. She and Anne were very +close to each other in those days though but few words passed between +them. A hush that was like a benediction brooded upon the silent house. +They could not weep. + +Once, standing in the hallowed stillness beside her dead, Mrs. Errol +turned to Anne, saying softly: "The dear Lord knows best, dear. We +wouldn't call him back. He wouldn't want to come." + +And later she told her gently that she had known ever since the operation +that the end was near. + +"It was in his eyes," she said. "I know that look so well. Dr. Capper +knew it too. And so, I'm sure, did the dear boy himself. That waiting, +far-off look as if the soul were listening, didn't you see it, dear? I +only wondered that he stayed so long." + +Yes, Anne had seen it. She knew it now. Though he had smiled upon her, +though he had held her hand, she knew that all human longing had died in +Lucas Errol's soul on the night that he had gone down to the Gate of +Death and Nap had drawn him back. He had slackened his hold upon things +earthly that night, and though he had come back a little way, it had been +as a spectator only that he lingered, no more as one who took an active +part in the drama of mortal life. His _rôle_ was played; she realised now +that he must have known it, and that he had not wished it otherwise. He +had not died with that kingly smile upon his lips if he had not been +content to die. That was why grief seemed to her impossible. That was why +the peace in which he lay, wrapped tenderly around her tired heart also +and gave her rest. + +Of Nap during those days of silence she saw nothing whatever. He had +risen from his brother's death-bed with a face of stony aloofness, and +had gone swiftly out, she knew not whither. Since that moment she had +scarcely seen him. He spent his time out of the house, somewhere away in +the woods she believed, out of reach of any human observation, not even +returning at night. Once only in the early morning she saw him cross the +stretch of lawn in front of the lake and enter by a side door. But her +glimpse of him was of the briefest. She did not see his face. + +Upon Bertie devolved all the duties of the head of the household, but +his mother was ready at every turn to help him. She was more to him +during those few days than she had ever been before. Capper also, +remaining for the funeral, placed himself at his disposal and did much to +lighten the burden. + +Capper indeed helped everyone, and Anne always remembered with gratitude +a few moments that she had alone with him on the evening before the +funeral, when he laid a fatherly hand upon her shoulder to say: "My dear, +I don't know if you're fretting any, but you've no cause to fret. I know +now that it couldn't have been otherwise. If you'd been his wife you +couldn't have kept him." + +She thanked him with a look. She believed that Capper understood, and she +was glad that it should be so. She fancied also that his opinion +regarding Nap had undergone a change, but she hesitated to touch upon the +subject, and the moment passed. + +Up to the last minute she was doubtful as to whether Nap would attend his +brother's funeral. She herself went because Mrs. Errol desired to go. She +walked with Capper immediately behind Bertie and his mother. Neither of +them seemed to expect Nap, or even to think of him. His movements were +always sudden and generally unaccountable. But she knew that his absence +would cause comment in the neighbourhood, and though she also knew that +Nap would care nothing for that, she earnestly hoped that he would not +give occasion for it. + +Nevertheless the procession started without him, and she had almost +ceased to hope when he suddenly appeared from nowhere as it seemed to +her, and walked on her other side. + +She heard Capper give a grunt, whether of approval or otherwise she did +not know, but not a word was said. She glanced once at Nap, but his face +was sphinx-like, utterly unresponsive. He stared straight ahead, with +eyes that never varied, at the coffin that was being borne upon men's +shoulders to its quiet resting-place in the village churchyard, and +throughout the journey thither his expression remained unaltered. + +At the gate Bertie suddenly turned and motioned him forward, and they +entered the church together. Later, by the open grave, Anne saw that +Bertie was leaning on Nap's shoulder, while his mother stood apart with +her face to the sky; and she knew that the feud between them had been +laid at last and for ever by the man who had ruled supreme in the hearts +of all who knew him. + +When all was over, Nap disappeared, and she saw no more of him till the +evening when for the first time he came to the dinner-table. Capper was +leaving early on the following day, and it was to this fact that Anne +attributed his appearance. + +Bertie dined at home, but he walked over later to take leave of Capper. +They sat together in the hall, with the door wide open, for the night +was as warm as summer. + +Mrs. Errol had gone to her room immediately after dinner, but Anne +remained at Capper's request. + +"I shan't see much more of you," he said. + +They talked but little however. Nap sat smoking in a corner and hardly +opened his lips. Bertie came in late, looking worn and miserable. + +"I wish you would tell me what to do with Tawny Hudson," he said. "I +believe the fellow's crazy; and he's pining too. I don't believe he has +eaten anything for days." + +Since Lucas's death Tawny Hudson had attached himself to Bertie, +following him to and fro like a lost dog, somewhat to Dot's dismay; for, +deeply though she pitied the great half-breed, there was something about +him that frightened her. + +"I don't know what to do with him," Bertie said. "He's as gaunt as a +wolf. He's hanging about somewhere outside now. Wish you'd take him along +to America with you, Doctor." + +"Call him in," said Capper, "and let me have a look at him." + +Bertie went to the door and whistled. + +There was no reply. + +"Hudson!" he called. "Tawny! where are you?" + +But there came no answer out of the shadows. The only voice which Tawny +would obey was still. + +Bertie came back baffled. "Confound the fellow! I know he's +within hail." + +"Leave the brute alone!" said Nap. "He isn't worth much anyway." + +"But I can't let him die," said Bertie. + +Nap looked contemptuous, and relapsed into silence. + +"I'll take him back with me if you're wanting to be rid of him," said +Capper. "Tell him so if you get the chance." + +"Thanks!" said Bertie. "But I don't believe he'll budge. Nap will be +crossing next week. P'r'aps I shall persuade him to go then." He looked +across at Nap. "I know you don't like the fellow, but it wouldn't be +for long." + +"Probably not," said Nap, staring fixedly at the end of his cigar. + +Something in his tone made Anne glance at him, but as usual his face told +her nothing. She saw only that his eyes were drawn as if with long +watching, and that the cynical lines about his mouth were more grimly +pronounced than she had ever seen them before. + +Not long after, Bertie got up to go. His farewell to Capper was spoken +almost in a whisper, and Anne saw that his self-control was precarious. +When he shook hands with her he was beyond speech. She was glad to see +Nap rise and accompany him, with a friendly hand pushed through his arm. + +For nearly half an hour longer she sat on with Capper; then at length +she rose to go. + +"I shall see you in the morning," she said, pausing. + +"I am making an early start," said Capper. + +She smiled. "I shall see you all the same. Good-night." + +Capper kept her hand in his, his green eyes running over her with elusive +intentness. "Wonder what you'll do," he said abruptly. + +She met his look quite simply. "For the present," she said, "I must be +with Mrs. Errol. Later on--next month--she will no doubt go to the Dower +House, and I shall go back to the Manor." + +"Don't mope!" he said. + +She smiled again with a short sigh. "I shall be too busy for that." + +"That so?" Capper drew his brows together. "Lady Carfax, at risk of +offending you, I've something to say." + +"You will not offend me," she answered. "And I think I know what it is." + +"Very possibly you do, but I guess I'd better say it all the same. You +may remember a talk we had at the commencement of our acquaintance, +regarding Nap. I told you he was just a wild animal, untamable, +untrustworthy. Well, you have proved me wrong. You have worked a +miracle, and you have tamed him. Lucas himself told me about it the day +before he died." + +"Oh, no!" Anne said quickly and earnestly. "It was Lucas who worked the +miracle, Doctor. The magic was his." + +"Guess he wouldn't have done it single-handed," said Capper. "He'd +been trying as long as I had known him, and he hadn't succeeded." He +paused, looking at her with great kindness. Then: "My dear," he said, +"you needn't be afraid to trust yourself to him. He will never let you +down again." + +Anne stood silent, but under his look a deep flush rose and overspread +her face. She turned her eyes away. + +Very gently Capper patted her shoulder. "You've made a man of him between +you," he said. "Lucas has left the developing process to you." + +"Ah!" she said wistfully, and that was all, for her eyes were suddenly +full of tears. + +She went to the door and stood there for several seconds. The voice of a +nightingale thrilled through the silence. Was it only a year--only a +year--since the veil had been rent from her eyes? Only a year since first +her heart had throbbed to "the everlasting Wonder Song"? She felt as if +eons had passed over her, as if the solitude of ages wrapped her round; +and yet afar off, like dream music in her soul, she still heard its +echoes pulsing across the desert. It held her like a charm. + +Slowly her tears passed. There came again to her that curious sense of +something drawing her, almost as of a voice that called. The garden lay +still and mysterious in the moonlight. She caught its gleam upon a +corner of the lake where it shone like a wedge of silver. + +A few seconds she stood irresolute; then without word or backward glance +she stepped down into the magic silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LAST ORDEAL + + +What impulse she obeyed she knew not; only she wanted to hear the +nightingale, to drink in the fragrance, to feel the healing balm upon her +heart. Her feet carried her noiselessly over the grass to that shining +splendour of water, and turned along the path that led past the seat +under the cedar where Nap had joined her on that evening that seemed +already far away, and had told her that he loved her still. By this path +he and Bertie would have gone to the Dower House; by this path he would +probably return alone. + +Her heart quickened a little as she passed into the deep shadow. She was +not nervous as a rule, but there was something mysterious about the +place, something vaguely disquieting. The gurgle of the stream that fed +the lake sounded curiously remote. + +She turned towards the rustic seat on which she had rested that day, and +on the instant her pulses leapt to sudden alarm. There was a stealthy +movement in front of her; a crouching object that looked monstrous in the +gloom detached itself from the shadow and began to move away. For a +moment she thought it was some animal; then there came to her the +unmistakable though muffled tread of human feet, and swift as an arrow +comprehension pierced her. The thing in front of her was Tawny Hudson. + +But why was he skulking there? Why did he seek thus to avoid her? What +was the man doing? The agitated questions raced through her brain at +lightning speed, and after them came a horrible, a sickening suspicion. + +Whence it arose she could not have said, but the memory of Nap's face +only half an hour before, when Tawny Hudson had been under discussion, +arose in her mind and confirmed it almost before she knew that it was +there. She had often suspected the half-breed of harbouring a dislike for +Nap. More often still she had noted Nap's complete and perfectly obvious +contempt for him. He had tolerated him, no more, for Lucas's sake. Was it +not highly probable that now that the restraining influence was gone the +man's animosity had flamed to hatred? And if he were really crazy, as +Bertie believed, to what lengths might he not carry it? + +Fear stabbed her, fear that was anguish. At any moment now Nap might be +returning, and if Tawny were indeed lying in wait for him-- + +She traversed the deep shadow cast by the cedar and looked forth into the +park beyond. The man had disappeared. He must have doubled back among +the trees of the shrubbery; and she knew he must be crouching somewhere +in concealment not far away, for all sound of footsteps had ceased. Did +he fancy she had not seen him, she wondered? Was he hoping that she would +turn and go back by the way she had come, leaving him free to accomplish +his purpose, whatever it might be? + +And then her heart suddenly stood still, for away in the distance, +walking with his light, swinging gait over the moonlit sward, she saw +Nap. + +In that moment her fear took definite and tangible form, and a horror of +the thing that lurked in the shadows behind her seized her, goading her +to action. She passed out into the quiet moonlight and moved to meet him. + +Her impulse was to run, but she restrained it, dreading lest she might +precipitate the disaster she feared. Hudson must not suspect her +intention, must not know of the panic at her heart. + +Nap did not see her at once. The background of trees obscured her. But +as she drew away from them he caught sight of her, and instantly +quickened his pace. + +They met scarcely fifty yards from the cedar, and breathlessly Anne +spoke. "Turn back with me a little way. I have something to say to you." + +He wheeled at once, with no show of surprise. Though he must have seen +her agitation he did not ask its cause. + +They walked several paces before Anne spoke again. "You will think me +very strange, but I have had a fright. I--I want you, Nap, to--to +understand and not think me foolish or laugh at me." + +"I couldn't do either if I tried," said Nap. "Who has been frightening +you? Tawny Hudson?" + +"Yes, Tawny Hudson." Anne was still breathless; she glanced nervously +over her shoulder. "Shall we walk a little faster? He--he is lurking in +those trees, and do you know I don't think he is safe? I think--I can't +help thinking--that he is lying in wait for you to--to do you a +mischief." + +Nap stopped dead. "That so? Then I reckon I will go and deal with +him at once." + +"Oh, no!" she gasped. "No! Nap, are you mad?" + +He gave her a queer look. "By no means, Lady Carfax, though I believe I +should be if I went any farther with you. You stay here while I go and +investigate." + +He would have left her with the words, but on the instant desperation +seized Anne. Her strained nerves would not bear this. She caught his arm, +holding him fast. + +"You must not! You shall not! Or if you do I am coming with you. You--you +are not going alone." + +"I am going alone," Nap said; but he stood still, facing her, watching +her as he had watched her on that day long ago when he had lain helpless +in her arms in the snow, the day that revelation had first come to her +shrinking heart. "I am going alone," he repeated very deliberately. "And +you will wait here till I come back." + +She felt that he was putting forth his strength to compel her, and +something within her warned her that he was stronger in that moment than +she. She did not understand his ascendency over her, but she could not +help being aware of it. Her agitated hold upon his arm began to slacken. + +"Oh, don't go!" she entreated weakly. "Please don't go! I can't bear +it. It--it's too much. Nap, if--if any harm comes to you, I--I think it +will kill me." + +There came a sudden gleam in his sombre eyes that seemed to stab her, but +it was gone instantly, before he spoke in answer. + +"Lady Carfax, you are not foolish--you are sublime! But--be wise as +well." Very quietly he extricated his arm from her clinging hands and +turned to go. "Don't watch me," he said. "Go on to the bridge and wait +for me there." + +He was gone. Blindly she obeyed him; blindly she moved towards the bridge +that spanned the stream. She was trembling so much that she could hardly +walk, but almost mechanically she urged herself on. No other course was +open to her. + +She reached the bridge, and leaned upon the handrail. She thought the +beating of her heart would suffocate her. She strained her ears to +listen, but she could hear nought else; and for a time she actually +lacked the physical strength to turn and look. + +At last, after the passage of many minutes, she summoned her sinking +courage. Faint and dizzy still, she managed to raise her head. The +moonlight danced in her eyes, but with immense effort she compelled +herself to look back. + +The next instant utter amazement seized and possessed her, dominating her +fear. Nap was standing just beyond the outspreading boughs of the cedar, +a straight relentless figure, with the arrogance of complete mastery in +every line, while at his feet grovelled and whimpered the great +half-breed, Tawny Hudson. + +Nap was speaking. She could not hear what he said, but spell-bound she +watched, while a curious sensation of awe tingled through her. The man +was so superbly self-confident. + +Suddenly she saw him stoop and take something from his prostrate enemy. A +sharp doubt assailed her. She saw the wretched Tawny cringe lower and +cover his face. She saw the moonlight glint upon the thing in Nap's hand. + +He seemed to be considering it, for he turned it this way and that, +making it flash and flash again. And then abruptly, with a swift turn of +the wrist, he spun it high into the air. It made a shining curve, and +fell with a splash into the stream. She saw the widening ripples from +where she stood. + +But she did not stay to watch them. Her attention was focussed upon the +scene that was being enacted before her. + +It was very nearly over. Tawny Hudson had lifted his head, and she saw +submission the most abject on his upraised face. He seemed to be pleading +for something, and after a moment, with the faintest shrug of the +shoulders, Nap lifted one hand and made a curious gesture above him. The +next instant he turned upon his heel and came towards her, while Tawny +Hudson got up and slunk away into the shadows. + +Anne awaited him, standing quite motionless. She knew now what had +happened. He had grappled with the man's will just as once he had +grappled with hers. And he had conquered. She expected him to +approach her with the royal swagger of victory, and involuntarily she +shrank, dreading to encounter him in that mood, painfully aware of +her own weakness. + +He came to her; he stood before her. "Anne," he said, "forgive me!" + +She gazed at him in astonishment. "Forgive you!" she repeated. "But why?" + +"I have no right to practise the black arts in your presence," he said, +"though as a matter of fact there was no other way. I've frightened the +poor devil out of his senses. Aren't you frightened too?" + +"I don't understand," she answered rather piteously. "I am only thankful +that you are not hurt." + +"That's good of you," he said, and she heard no irony in his voice. He +leaned his arms upon the rail beside her, and stared down in silence +for several moments into the dark water. "If this had happened a +week--less than a week--ago," he said at length, speaking very quietly, +"I would have let the fellow knife me with the utmost pleasure. I should +even have been grateful to him. And"--he turned very slightly towards +her--"you would have had cause for gratitude too, for Luke would have +been with you to-day." + +She shrank a little at his words. "I don't understand," she said again. + +He stood up and faced her with abrupt resolution. "I am going to make you +understand," he said, "once and for all. It's a rather hideous recital, +but you had better hear it. I will condense it as much as possible. I've +been an evil brute all my life, but I guess you know that already. The +first time I saw you I wanted to ruin you. I never meant to fall in love +with you. I kicked against it--kicked hard. Good women always +exasperated me. But I wanted a new sensation, and, by heaven, I got it!" +He paused a moment, and she saw his grim features relax very slightly. "I +was caught in my own net," he said. "I believe there is magic in you. You +captured me anyway. I did homage to you--in spite of myself. After that +night the relish went out of everything for me. I wanted only you." + +Again he paused, but she said nothing. She was listening with her +steadfast eyes upon him. + +"But you kept me at a distance," he said, "and I couldn't help myself. +That was the maddening part of it. Lucas knew even then--or suspected. +But he didn't interfere. He saw you were taming me. And so you were--so +you were. But that thrashing upset everything. It drove me mad. I was +crazy for revenge. Lucas made me go away, but I couldn't stay. I was like +a man possessed. My hatred for your husband had swamped my love for you. +You have got to know it, Anne; I am like that. I wanted to wreak my +vengeance on him through you, because I knew--by then--that I had somehow +reached your heart. And so I came to you--I saw you--and then I couldn't +do it. Your love--I suppose I may call it that?--barred the way. It was +your safeguard. You trusted me, and for that I wanted to fall down and +worship you. But you sent me away--I had to go. You made a man of me. I +lived a clean life because of you. I was your slave. I believe I should +have remained so if your husband had died then. But the knowledge that he +was coming back to you was too much for me. I couldn't stand that. I +broke free." + +He stopped suddenly and brought his clenched fist down upon the rail as +if physical pain were a relief to his soul. + +"I needn't go into what happened then," he said. "You saw me at my worst, +and--you conquered me. You drove me out of your stronghold, and you +locked the door. I don't know even now how you did it. None but a good +woman would have dared. Do you know, when I came to my senses and knew +what I had done, knew that I'd insulted you, killed your trust--your +love, made you despise me, I nearly shot myself? It was Dot who kept me +from that. She guessed, I suppose. And I went away--I went right away +into the Rockies--and fought my devils there. I came back saner than you +have ever known me, to hear that you were free. Can you believe that I +actually told myself that you were mine--mine for the winning? I +stretched out my hands to you across half the world, and I felt as if +wherever you were I had somehow managed to reach and touch you. It was +exactly a year from the day I had first met you." + +"Ah, I remember!" Anne said, her voice quick with pain; but she did not +tell him what she remembered. + +He went on rapidly, as if she had not spoken. "And then I came to you. +And--I found--I found Luke--in possession. Well, that was the end of +everything for me. I couldn't help knowing that it was the best thing +that could possibly happen to either of you. And I--well, I was just out +of it. I would have gone again that night, but Luke wouldn't have it. He +suspected from the first, though I lied to him--I lied royally. But I +couldn't keep it up. He was too many for me. He wouldn't let me drop out, +but neither would I let him. I fought every inch. I wouldn't let him die. +I held him night and day--night and day. I knew what it meant to you +too, and I knew you would help me afterwards to drop out. My whole soul +was in it, but even so, I couldn't hold on for ever. I had to slacken at +last, and he--he slackened too. I knew it directly, felt him losing +hold. That was two days before he died. And I pulled myself together and +grabbed him again. I think he knew. He tried to wake up, said he'd get +well, made me let go of him, made me explain things to you. And +then--well, I guess he thought his part was done--so he just--let go." + +Abruptly he turned from her and leaned again upon the rail, lodging his +head on his hands. "That's all," he said. "But if Tawny had taken it into +his fool brain to make an end of me a little sooner--as I meant him to--I +know very well Luke would have hung on--somehow--for your sake. Oh, I +wish to heaven he had!" he burst out fiercely. "I'm not fit to speak to +you, not fit to touch your hand. You--you--I believe you'd be kind to me +if I would let you. But I won't--I won't! I'm going away. It rests with +me now to protect you somehow, and there is no other way." + +He ceased to speak, and in the silence she watched his bent head, greatly +wondering, deeply pitying. When he stood up again she knew that the +tumult that tore his soul had been forced down out of sight. + +"You see how it is with me, Anne," he said very sadly. "Tawny Hudson +thinks I'm a devil, and I'm not sure--even now--that he isn't right. +That's why I'm going away. I won't have you trust me, for I can't trust +myself. And you have no one to protect you from me. So you won't blame me +for going? You'll understand?" + +His words went straight to her heart. She felt the quick tears +rising, but she kept them back. She knew that he needed strength from +her just then. + +And so, after a moment, she commanded herself, and answered him. + +"I think you are quite right to go, Nap. And--yes, I understand. +Only--some day--some day--come back again!" + +He leaned towards her. His face had flashed into sudden vitality at her +words. He made a movement as if he would take her into his arms. And then +abruptly, almost with violence, he withdrew himself, and gripped his +hands together behind him. + +Standing so, with the moonlight shining on his face, he showed her that +which her heart ached to see. For though the dusky eyes were fixed and +still, unveiled but unrevealing, though the high cheek-bones and lantern +jaw were grim as beaten brass, she had a glimpse beyond of the seething, +volcanic fires she dreaded, and she knew that he had spoken the truth. It +was better for them both that he should go. + +"I will come back to you, Anne," he said, speaking very steadily. "I +will come back to you--if I find I can." + +It was final, and she knew it. She held out her hand to him in silence, +and he, stooping, pressed it dumbly against his lips. + +Thereafter they walked back to the house together, and parted +without a word. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +OUT OF THE FURNACE + + +Capper looked round with a certain keenness that was not untouched with +curiosity when Nap unexpectedly followed him to his room that night. + +"Are you wanting anything?" he demanded, with his customary directness. + +"Nothing much," Nap said. "You might give me a sleeping-draught if you're +disposed to be charitable. I seem to have lost the knack of going to +sleep. What I really came to say was that Hudson will go with you +to-morrow if you will be good enough to put up with him. He won't give +you any trouble. I would let him go with me next week if his wits would +stand the strain of travelling in my company, but I don't think they +will. I don't want to turn him into a gibbering maniac if I can help it." + +"What have you been doing to him?" said Capper. + +Nap smiled, faintly contemptous. "My dear doctor, I never do anything to +anybody. If people choose to credit me with possessing unholy powers, +you will allow that I am scarcely to be blamed if the temptation to trade +now and then upon their fertile imaginations proves too much for me." + +"I allow nothing," Capper said, "that is not strictly normal and +wholesome." + +"Then that places me on the black list at once," remarked Nap. +"Good-night!" + +"Stay a moment!" ordered Capper. "Let me look at you. If you will +promise to behave like an ordinary human being for once, I'll give you +that draught." + +"I'll promise anything you like," said Nap, a shade of weariness in his +voice. "I'm going up to town to-morrow, and I never sleep there so I +reckon this is my last chance for some time to come." + +"Are you trying to kill yourself?" asked Capper abruptly. + +But Nap only threw up his head and laughed. "If that were my object I'd +take a shorter cut than this. No, I guess I shan't die this way, Doctor. +You seem to forget the fact that I'm as tough as leather, with the +vitality of a serpent." + +"The toughest of us won't go for ever," observed Capper. "You get to bed. +I'll come to you directly." + +When he joined him again, a few minutes later, Nap was lying on his back +with arms flung wide, staring inscrutably at the ceiling. His mind seemed +to be far away, but Capper's hand upon his pulse brought it back. He +turned his head with the flicker of a smile. + +"What's that for?" + +"I happen to take an interest in you, my son," said Capper. + +"Very good of you. But why?" + +Capper was watching him keenly. "Because I have a notion that you +are wanted." + +Nap stirred restlessly, and was silent. + +"How long are you going to be away?" Capper asked. + +"I don't know." + +"For long?" + +Nap's hand jerked impatiently from the doctor's hold. "Possibly +for ever." + +Capper's long fingers began to crack. He looked speculative. "Say, Nap," +he said suddenly, "we may not be exactly sympathetic, you and I, but I +guess we've pulled together long enough to be fairly intimate. Anyway, +I've conceived a sort of respect for you that I never expected to have. +And if you'll take a word of advice from a friend who wishes you well, +you won't regret it." + +The thin lips began to smile. "Delighted to listen to your advice, +Doctor. I suspect I'm not obliged to follow it." + +"You will please yourself, no doubt," Capper rejoined drily. "But my +advice is, don't stay away too long. Your place is here." + +"You think so?" said Nap. + +"I am quite sure," Capper said, with emphasis. + +"And you think I shall please myself by going?" + +"Who else?" said Capper almost sternly. + +Nap did not instantly reply. He was lying back with his face in shadow. +When he spoke at length it was with extreme deliberation. Capper divined +that it was an effort to him to speak at all. + +"You're a family friend," he said. "I guess you've a right to know. It +isn't for my own sake I'm going at all. It's for--hers, and because of a +promise I made to Luke. If I were to stop, I'd be a cur--and worse. She'd +take me without counting the cost. She is a woman who never thinks of +herself. I've got to think for her. I've sworn to play the straight game, +and I'll play it. That's why I won't so much as look into her face again +till I know that I can be to her what Luke would have been--what Bertie +is to Dot--what every man who is a man ought to be to the woman he has +made his wife." + +He flung his arms up above his head and remained tense for several +seconds. Then abruptly he relaxed. + +"I'll be a friend to her," he said, "a friend that she can +trust--or nothing!" + +There came a very kindly look into Capper's green eyes, but he made no +comment of any sort. He only turned aside to take up the glass he had set +down on entering. And as he did so, he smiled as a man well pleased. + +Once during the night he looked in upon Nap and found him sleeping, +wrapt in a deep and silent slumber, motionless as death. He stood awhile +watching the harsh face with its grim mouth and iron jaw, and slowly a +certain pity dawned in his own. The man had suffered infernally before he +had found his manhood. He had passed through raging fires that had left +their mark upon him for the rest of his life. + +"It's been an almighty big struggle, poor devil," said Capper, "but it's +made a man of you." + +He left early on the following day, accompanied by Tawny Hudson, whose +docility was only out-matched by his very obvious desire to be gone. + +True to her promise, Anne was down in time to take leave of Capper. They +stood together for a moment on the steps before parting. Her hand in his, +he looked straight into her quiet eyes. + +"You're not grieving any, Lady Carfax?" + +"No," she said. + +"I guess you're right," said Maurice Capper gravely. "We make our little +bids for happiness, but it helps one to remember that the issue lies +with God." + +She gave him a smile of understanding. "'He knows about it all--He +knows--He knows,'" she quoted softly. And Capper went his way, taking +with him the memory of a woman who still ploughed her endless furrow, but +with a heart at peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE PROMOTION OF THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + +"My!" said Mrs. Errol. "Isn't he just dear?" + +There was a cooing note in her deep voice. She sat in the Dower House +garden with her grandson bolt upright upon her knees, and all the birds +of June singing around her. + +"Isn't he dear, Anne?" she said. + +Anne, who was dangling a bunch of charms for the baby's amusement, +stooped and kissed the sunny curls. + +"He's a lord of creation," she said. "And he knows it already. I never +saw such an upright morsel in my life." + +"Lucas was like that," said Mrs. Errol softly. "He was just the loveliest +baby in the U.S.A. Everyone said so. Dot dearie, I'm sort of glad you +called him Luke." + +"So am I, mater dearest. And he's got Luke's eyes, hasn't he now? Bertie +said so from the very beginning." Eagerly Dot leaned from her chair to +turn her small son's head to meet his grandmother's scrutiny. "I'd rather +he were like Luke than anyone else in the world," she said. "It isn't +treason to Bertie to say so, for he wants it too. Where is Bertie, I +wonder? He had to go to town, but he promised to be back early for his +boy's first birthday-party. It's such an immense occasion, isn't it?" + +Her round face dimpled in the way Bertie most loved. She rose and slipped +a hand through Anne's arm. + +"Let's go and look for him. I know he can't be long now. The son of the +house likes having his granny to himself. He never cries with her." + +They moved away together through the sunlit garden, Dot chattering gaily +as her fashion was about nothing in particular while Anne walked beside +her in sympathetic silence. Anne was never inattentive though there were +some who deemed her unresponsive. + +But as they neared the gate Dot's volubility quite suddenly died down. +She plucked a white rose, to fill in the pause and fastened it in her +friend's dress. Her fingers trembled unmistakably as she did it, and Anne +looked at her inquiringly. "Is anything the matter?" + +"No. Why?" said Dot, turning very red. + +Anne smiled a little. "I feel as if a bird had left off singing," she +said. + +Dot laughed, still with hot cheeks. "What a pretty way of putting it! +Bertie isn't nearly so complimentary. He calls me the magpie, which is +really very unfair, for he talks much more than I do. Dear old Bertie!" + +The dimples lingered, and Anne bent suddenly and kissed them. "Dear +little Dot!" she said. + +Instantly Dot's arms were very tightly round her. "Anne darling, I've got +something to tell you--something you very possibly won't quite like. You +won't be vexed any, will you?" + +"Not any," smiled Anne. + +"No, but it isn't a small thing. It--it's rather immense. But Bertie said +I was to tell you, because you are not to be taken by surprise again. He +doesn't think it fair, and of course he's right." + +"What is it, dear?" said Anne. The smile had gone from her face, but her +eyes were steadfast and very still--the eyes of a woman who had waited +all her life. + +"My dear," said Dot, holding her closely, "it's only that Bertie didn't +go up to town on business. It was to meet someone, and--and that someone +will be with him when he comes back. I promised Bertie to tell you, but +you were so late getting here I was afraid I shouldn't have time. Oh, +Anne dear, I do hope you don't mind." + +Dot's face, a guilty scarlet, was hidden in Anne's shoulder. Anne's hand, +very quiet and steady, came up and began to stroke the fluffy hair that +blew against her neck. But she said nothing. + +It was Dot who remorsefully broke the silence. "I feel such a beast, +Anne, but really I had no hand in it this time. He wrote to Bertie +yesterday from town. He hasn't been in England for over a year, and he +wanted to know if he could come to us. Bertie went up this morning to see +him and bring him back. I thought of coming round to you, but Bertie +seemed to think I had better wait and tell you when you came. I hoped you +would have come earlier, so that I would have had more time to tell you +about it. Dear, do tell me it's all right." + +"It is all right," Anne said, and with the words she smiled again though +her face was pale. "It is quite all right, Dot dear. Don't be anxious." + +Dot looked up with a start. "That's the motor coming now. Oh, Anne, I've +only told you just in time!" + +She was quivering with excitement. It seemed as if she were far the more +agitated of the two. For Anne was calm to all outward appearance, quiet +and stately and unafraid. Only the hand that grasped Dot's was cold--cold +as ice. The motor was rapidly approaching. They stood by the gate and +heard the buzzing of the engine, the rush of the wheels, and then the +quick, gay blasts of the horn by which Bertie always announced his coming +to his wife. A moment more and the car whizzed into the drive. There came +a yell of welcome from Bertie at the wheel and the instant checking of +the motor. + +And the man beside Bertie leaned swiftly forward, bareheaded, and looked +straight into Anne's white face. + +She did not know how she met his look. It seemed to pierce her. But +she was nerved for the ordeal, and she moved towards him with +outstretched hand. + +His fingers closed upon it as he stepped from the car, gripped and +closely held it. But he spoke not a word to her; only to Dot, whom he +kissed immediately afterwards, to her confusion and Bertie's amusement. + +"I seem to have stumbled into a family gathering," he said later, when +they gave him the place of honour between Mrs. Errol and his hostess. + +"Being one of the family, I guess it's a happy accident," said +Mrs. Errol. + +He bowed to her elaborately. "Many thanks, alma mater! Considering the +short time you have had for preparing a pretty speech of welcome it does +you undoubted credit." + +"Oh, my, Nap!" she said. "I'm past making pretty speeches at my age. I +just say what I mean." + +A gleam of surprise crossed his dark face. "That so, alma mater?" he +said. "Then--considering all things--again thanks!" He turned from her to +the baby sprawling on the rug at his feet, and lifted the youngster to +his knee. "So this is the pride of the Errols now," he said. + +The baby stared up at him with serious eyes, and very deliberately and +intently Nap stared back. + +"What is his name, Dot?" he asked at length. + +"Lucas Napoleon," she said. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated. "What an unholy combination! What in +thunder possessed you to call him that?" + +"Oh, it wasn't my doing," Dot hastened to explain, with her usual +honesty, "though of course I was delighted with the idea. Bertie and I +called him Lucas almost before he was born." + +"Then who in wonder chose my name for him?" demanded Nap. + +"See the Church Catechism!" suggested Bertie. + +"Ah! Quite so." Nap turned upon him keenly. "Who were his god-parents?" + +"My dear Nap, what does it matter?" broke in Dot. "Be quiet, Bertie! For +goodness' sake make him put the child down and have some tea." + +"Let me take him," Anne said. + +She stooped to lift the boy, who held out his arms to her with a crow of +pleasure. Nap looked up at her, and for an instant only their eyes met; +but in that instant understanding dawned upon Nap's face, and with it a +strangely tender smile that made it almost gentle. + +Dot declared afterwards that the birthday-party had been all she could +have desired. Everyone had been nice to everyone, and the baby hadn't +been rude to his uncle, a calamity she had greatly feared. Also Nap was +improved, hugely improved. Didn't Bertie think so? He seemed to have got +so much more human. She couldn't realise there had ever been a time when +she had actually disliked him. + +"P'r'aps we're more human ourselves," suggested Bertie; a notion which +hadn't occurred to Dot but which she admitted might have something in it. + +Anyway, she was sure Nap had improved, and she longed to know if Anne +thought so too. + +Anne's thoughts upon that subject, however, were known to none, perhaps +not even to herself. All she knew was an overwhelming desire for +solitude, but when this was hers at last it was not in the consideration +of this question that she spent it. + +It was in kneeling by her open window with her face to the sky, and +in her heart a rapture of gladness that all the birds of June could +not utter. + +She scarcely slept at all that night, yet when she rose some of the bloom +of youth had come back to her, some of its summer splendour was shining +in her eyes. Anne Carfax was more nearly a beautiful woman that day than +she had ever been before. + +Dimsdale looked at her benignly. Would her ladyship breakfast +out-of-doors? She smiled and gave her assent, and while he was preparing +she plucked a spray of rose acacia and pinned it at her throat. + +"Dimsdale," she said, and her cheeks flushed to the soft tint of the +blossom as she spoke, "Mr. Errol is coming over this morning. I expect +him to luncheon." + +"Mr. Errol, my lady?" + +"Mr. Nap Errol," said Anne, still intent upon the acacia. "Show him into +the garden when he comes. He is sure to find me somewhere." + +Dimsdale's eyes opened very wide, but he managed his customary "Very +good, my lady," as he continued his preparations. And so Anne breakfasted +amid the tumult of rejoicing June, all the world laughing around her, all +the world offering abundant thanksgiving because of the sunshine that +flooded it. + +When breakfast was over she sat with closed eyes, seeming to hear the +very heart of creation throbbing in every sound, yet listening, listening +intently for something more. For a long time she sat thus, absorbed in +the great orchestra, waiting as it were to take her part in the mighty +symphony that swept its perfect harmonies around her. + +It was a very little thing at last that told her her turn had come, so +small a thing, and yet it sent the blood tingling through every vein, +racing and pulsing with headlong impetus like a locked stream suddenly +set free. It was no more than the flight of a startled bird from the tree +above her. + +She opened her eyes, quivering from head to foot. Yesterday she had +commanded herself. She had gone to him with outstretched hand and +welcoming smile. To-day she sat quite still. She could not move. + +He came to her, stooped over her, then knelt beside her; but he did not +offer to touch her. The sunlight streamed down upon his upturned face. +His eyes were deep and still and passionless. + +"You expected me," he said. + +She looked down at him. "I have been expecting you for a very long +time," she said. + +A flicker that was scarcely a smile crossed his face. "And yet I've come +too soon," he said. + +"Why do you say that?" She asked the question almost in spite of herself. +But she had begun to grow calmer. His quietness reassured her. + +"Because, my Queen," he said, "the _rôle_ of jester at court is +obsolete, at least so far as I am concerned, and I haven't managed to +qualify for another." + +"Do you want another?" she said. + +He turned his eyes away from her. "I want--many things," he said. + +She motioned him to the seat beside her. "Tell me what you have been +doing all this time." + +"I can't," he said. + +But he rose and sat beside her as she desired. + +"What under heaven have I been doing?" he said. "I don't know, I guess +I've been something like Nebuchadnezzar when they turned him out to +grass. I've been just--ruminating," + +"Is that all?" There was a curious note of relief in Anne's voice. + +His old magnetic smile flashed across his face as he caught it. "That's +all, Queen Anne. It's been monstrous dull. Do you know, I don't think +Heaven intended me for a hermit." + +Involuntarily almost she smiled in answer. Her heart was beating quite +steadily again. She was no longer afraid. + +"Nebuchadnezzar came to his own again," she observed. + +"He did," said Nap. + +"And you?" + +He leaned back with his face to the sky. "Not yet," he said. + +Anne was silent. He turned after a moment and looked at her. "And what +have you been doing, 0 Queen?" he said. + +Her hands were clasped in her lap. They suddenly gripped each other +very fast. + +"Won't you tell me?" said Nap. + +He spoke very softly, but he made no movement towards her. He sat aloof +and still. Yet he plainly desired an answer. + +It came at last, spoken almost in a whisper. "I have been--waiting." + +"Waiting--" he said. + +She parted her hands suddenly, with a gesture that was passionate, and +rose. "Yes, waiting," she said, "waiting, Nap, waiting! And oh, I'm so +tired of it. I'm not like you. I have never wanted--many things; only +one--only one!" Her voice broke. She turned sharply from him. + +Nap had sprung to his feet. He stood close to her. But he held himself +in check. He kept all emotion out of his face and voice. + +"Do you think I don't know?" he said. "My dear Anne, I have always known. +That's the damnable part of it. You've wanted truth instead of +treachery, honour instead of shame, love instead of--" + +She put out a quick hand. "Don't say it, Nap!" + +He took her hand, drew it to his heart, and held it there. "And you say +you don't want many things," he went on, in a tone half sad, half +whimsical. "My dear, if I could give you one tenth of what you want--and +ought to have--you'd be a lucky woman and I a thrice lucky man. +But--we've got to face it--I can't. I thought I could train myself, +fashion myself, into something worthy of your acceptance. I can't. I +thought I could win back your trust, your friendship, last of all your +love. But I can't even begin. You can send me away from you if you will, +and I'll go for good and all. On the other hand, you can keep me, you can +marry me--" He paused; and she fancied she felt his heart quicken. "You +can marry me," he said again, "but you can't tame me. You'll find me an +infernal trial to live with. I'm not a devil any longer. No, and I'm not +a brute. But I am still a savage at heart, and there are some parts of me +that won't tame. My love for you is a seething furnace, an intolerable +craving. I can't contemplate you sanely. I want you unspeakably." + +His hold had tightened. She could feel his heart throbbing now like a +fierce thing caged. His eyes had begun to glow. The furnace door was +opening. She could feel the heat rushing out, enveloping her. Soon it +would begin to scorch her. And yet she knew no shrinking. Rather she drew +nearer, as a shivering creature starved and frozen draws near to the +hunter's fire. + +He went on speaking rapidly, with rising passion. "My love for you is the +one part of me that I haven't got under control, and it's such a mighty +big part that the rest is hardly worthy of mention. It's great enough to +make everything else contemptible. I've no use for lesser things. I want +just you--only you--only you--for the rest of my life!" + +He stopped suddenly, seemed on the verge of something further, then +pulled himself together with a sharp gesture. The next moment, quite +quietly, he relinquished her hand. + +"I'm afraid that's all there is to me," he said. "Lucas would have given +you understanding, friendship, chivalry, all that a good woman wants. I +can only offer you--bondage." + +He half turned with the words, standing as if it needed but a sign to +dismiss him. But Anne made no sign. Over their heads a thrush had +suddenly begun to pour out his soul to the June sunshine, and she stood +spell-bound, listening. + +At the end of several breathless moments she spoke and in her voice was +a deep note that thrilled like music. + +"There is a bondage," she said, "that is sweeter than any freedom. And, +Nap, it is the one thing in this world that I want--that I need--that I +pray for night and day." + +"Anne!" he said. He turned back to her. He took the hands she gave him. +"Anne," he said again, speaking rapidly, in a voice that shook, "I have +tried to play a straight game with you. I have warned you. I am not the +right sort. You know what I am. You know." + +"Yes," Anne said, "I know." She raised her head and looked him straight +in the eyes. "You are all the world to me, Nap," she said. "You are the +man I love." + +His arms caught her, crushed her fiercely to him, held her fast. + +"Say it again!" he said, his fiery eyes flaming. "Say it! Say it!" + +But Anne said nought. Only for a long, long second she gazed into his +face; then in utter silence she turned her lips to his. + + * * * * * + +They spent the whole of the long June day together in the garden. Neither +knew how the time went till evening came upon them all unawares--a golden +evening of many fragrances. + +They came at last along the green path under the lilac trees, and here +by the rustic seat Nap stopped. + +"I'll leave you here," he said. + +She looked at him in surprise. "Won't you dine with me?" + +"No," he said restlessly. "I won't come in. I should stifle under a roof +to-night." + +"But we will dine outside," she said. + +He shook his head. "No, I'm going. Anne," he caught her hand to his lips, +"I hate leaving you. How long must I be condemned to it?" + +She touched his shoulder with her cheek. "Don't you know that I hate it +too?" she said. + +"Then--" He put his arm round her. + +"Next week, Nap," she said. + +"You mean it?" + +"Yes. I mean it." + +"You will marry me next week. What day?" + +"Any day," she said, with her face against his shoulder. + +"Any day, Anne? You mean that? You mean me to choose?" + +She laughed softly. "I shall leave everything to you." + +"Then I choose Sunday," Nap said, without an instant's consideration, "as +early in the morning as possible. I shall go straight to the padre and +arrange it right now." + +"Very well," she said. "I'll try to be ready." + +He threw up his head with the old arrogant gesture. "You must be ready," +he said imperiously. "I shall come and fetch you myself." + +She laughed again at that. "Indeed you will not. I shall go with +Mrs. Errol." + +He conceded this point, albeit grudgingly. "And afterwards?" he said. + +"The afterwards shall be yours, dear," she answered. + +"You mean that?" + +"Of course I mean it." + +"Then, Anne"--he bent his face suddenly, his lips moved against her +forehead--"will you come with me to Bramhurst?" + +"Bramhurst!" She started a little. The name to her was no more than a +bitter memory among the many other bitter memories of her life. + +"Will you?" he said. + +"If you wish it," she answered gently. + +"I do wish it." + +"Then--so be it," she said. + +He bent his head a little lower, kissed her twice passionately upon the +lips, held her awhile as if he could not bear to let her go, then tore +himself almost violently from her, and went away, swift and noiseless as +a shadow over the grass. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS + + +It was late on the evening of her wedding-day that Anne entered once +more the drawing-room of the little inn at Bramhurst and stopped by the +open window. + +There was a scent of musk in the room behind her, and an odour infinitely +more alluring of roses and honeysuckle in the garden in front. Beyond the +garden the common lay in the rosy dusk of the afterglow under a deep blue +sky. The clang of a distant cow-bell came dreamily through the silence. + +She stood leaning against the door-post with her face to the night. It +was a night of wonder, of marvellous, soul-stilling peace. Yet her brows +were slightly drawn as she waited there. She seemed to be puzzling over +something. + +"Say it out loud," said Nap. + +She did not start at the words though he had come up behind her without +sound. She stretched out her hand without turning and drew his arm +through hers. + +"Why did we choose this place?" she said. + +"You didn't choose it," said Nap. + +"Then you?" + +"I chose it chiefly because I knew you hated it," he said, a queer +vibration of recklessness in his voice. + +"My dear Nap, am I to believe that?" + +He looked at her through the falling dusk, and his hand closed tense and +vital upon her arm. "It's the truth anyway," he said. "I knew you hated +the place, that you only came to it for my sake. And I--I made you come +because I wanted you to love it." + +"For your sake, Nap?" she said softly. + +"Yes, and for another reason." He paused a moment; speech seemed suddenly +an effort to him. Then: "Anne," he said, "you forgave me, I know, long +ago; but I want you here--on this spot--to tell me that what happened +here is to you as if it had never been. I want it blotted out of your +mind for ever. I want your trust--your trust!" + +It was like a hunger-cry rising from the man's very soul. At sound of it +she turned impulsively. + +"Nap, never speak of this again! My dearest, we need not have come here +for that. Yet I am glad now that we came. It will be holy ground to me as +long as I live. As long as I live," she repeated very earnestly, "I shall +remember that it was here that the door of paradise was opened to us at +last, and that God meant us to enter in." + +She lifted her eyes to his with a look half-shy, half-confident. "You +believe in God," she said. + +He did not answer at once. He was looking out beyond her for the first +time, and the restless fire had gone out of his eyes. They were still and +deep as a mountain pool. + +"Nap," she said in a whisper. + +Instantly his look came back to her. He took her face between his hands +with a tenderness so new that it moved her inexplicably to tears. + +"I believe in the Power that casts out devils," he said very gravely. +"Luke taught me that much. I guess my wife will teach me the rest." + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12484 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..739e6e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12484 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12484) diff --git a/old/12484-8.txt b/old/12484-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d332bd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12484-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15603 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Knave of Diamonds, by Ethel May Dell + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Knave of Diamonds + +Author: Ethel May Dell + +Release Date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #12484] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects, +Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS + +By ETHEL M. DELL + +Author of "The Way Of An Eagle" + +1912 + + + + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY FRIEND AND SISTER IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF +HER SYMPATHY AND HELP + + + + +O Charity, all patiently + Abiding wrack and scaith! +O Faith that meets ten thousand cheats + Yet drops no jot of faith! +Devil and brute Thou dost transmute + To higher, lordlier show, +Who art in sooth that lovely Truth + The careless angels know! + +_To the True Romance_. + +RUDYARD KIPLING + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + + +CHAPTER + + I.--THE MISSING HEART + + II.--THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + III.--THE CHARIOT OF THE GODS + + IV.--CAKE MORNING + + V.--THE FIRST ENCOUNTER + + VI.--AT THE MEET + + VII.--THE FALL + + VIII.--THE RIDE HOME + + IX.--THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE + + X.--THE HAND OF A FRIEND + + XI.--THE STING OF A SCORPION + + XII.--BROTHERS + + XIII.--THE JESTER'S INFERNO + + XIV.--A BIG THING + + XV.--THE CHAMPION + + XVI.--THE MASQUERADE + + XVII.--THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS + +XVIII.--THE DESCENT FROM OLYMPUS + + XIX.--VENGEANCE + + XX.--THE VISION + + XXI.--AT THE MERCY OF A DEMON + + XXII.--THE CITY OF REFUGE + + +PART II + + + I.--THE JESTER'S RETURN + + II.--THE KERNEL OF THE DIFFICULTY + + III.--THE FIRST ORDEAL + + IV.--THE FATAL STREAK + + V.--THE TOKEN + + VI.--THE BURIAL OF A HATCHET + + VII.--A QUESTION OF TRUST + + VIII.--A SUDDEN BLOW + + IX.--THE BOON + + X.--A DAY IN PARADISE + + XI.--THE RETURN TO EARTH + + XII.--IN THE FACE OF THE GODS + + XIII.--AN APPEAL AND ITS ANSWER + + XIV.--THE IRRESISTIBLE + + XV.--ON THE EDGE OF THE PIT + + XVI.--DELIVERANCE + + +PART III + + + I.--THE POWER DIVINE + + II.--THE WORKER OF MIRACLES + + III.--THE WOMAN'S PART + + IV.--THE MESSAGE + + V.--THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND + + VI.--A VOICE THAT CALLED + + VII.--THE UNINVITED GUEST + + VIII.--THE HEART OF A SAVAGE + + IX.--THE DIVINE SPARK + + X.--THE QUEEN'S PARDON + + XI.--SOMETHING GREAT + + XII.--A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING + + XIII.--THE FINAL DEFEAT + + XIV.--AT THE GATE OF DEATH + + XV.--THE KING'S DECREE + + XVI.--THE STRAIGHT GAME + + XVII.--THE TRANSFORMING MAGIC + +XVIII.--THE LAST ORDEAL + + XIX.--OUT OF THE FURNACE + + XX.--THE PROMOTION OF THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + XXI.--THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS + + + + + +PART I + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MISSING HEART + + +There came a sudden blare of music from the great ballroom below, and the +woman who stood alone at an open window on the first floor shrugged her +shoulders and shivered a little. The night air blew in brisk and cold +upon her uncovered neck, but except for that slight, involuntary shiver +she scarcely seemed aware of it. The room behind her was brilliantly +lighted but empty. Some tables had been set for cards, but the cards were +untouched. Either the attractions of the ballroom had remained +omnipotent, or no one had penetrated to this refuge of the bored--no one +save this tall and stately woman robed in shimmering, iridescent green, +who stood with her face to the night, breathing the chill air as one who +had been on the verge of suffocation. It was evidently she who had flung +up the window. Her gloved hands leaned upon the woodwork on each side of +it. There was a certain constraint in her whole attitude, a tension that +was subtly evident in every graceful line. Her head was slightly bent as +though she intently watched or listened for something. + +Yet nothing could have been audible where she stood above the hubbub of +music, laughter, and stamping feet that rose from below. It filled the +night with uproar. Nor was there anything but emptiness in the narrow +side-street into which she looked. + +The door of the room was ajar and gradually swinging wider in the +draught. Very soon it would be wide enough for anyone passing in the +passage outside to spy the slim figure that stood so motionless before +the open window. It was almost wide enough now. Surely it was wide +enough, for suddenly it ceased to move. The draught continued to eddy +round the room, stirring the soft brown hair about the woman's temples, +but the door stood still as at the behest of an unseen hand. + +For fully half a minute nothing happened; then as suddenly and silently +as a picture flashed from a magic lantern slide, a man's head came into +view. A man's eyes, dusky, fierce, with something of a stare in them, +looked the motionless figure keenly up and down. + +There followed another interval as though the intruder were debating +with himself upon some plan of action, then, boldly but quite quietly, he +pushed the door back and entered. + +He was a slight, trim man, clean-shaven, with high cheek-bones that made +a long jaw seem the leaner by contrast. His sleek black hair was parted +in the middle above his swarthy face, giving an unmistakably foreign +touch to his appearance. His tread was light and wary as a cat's. + +His eyes swept the room comprehensively as he advanced, coming back +to the woman at the window as though magnetically drawn to her. But +she remained quite unaware of him, and he, no whit disconcerted, +calmly seated himself at one of the tables behind her and took up a +pack of cards. + +The dance-music in the room below was uproariously gay. Some of the +dancers were singing. Now and then a man's voice bellowed through the +clamour like the blare of a bull. + +Whenever this happened, the man at the table smiled to himself a faint, +thin-lipped smile, and the woman at the window shivered again. + +Suddenly, during a lull, he spoke. He was counting out the cards into +heaps with lightning rapidity, turning up one here and there, and he did +not raise his eyes from his occupation. + +"I say, you know," he said in a drawl that was slightly nasal, "you will +have to tell me how old you are. Is that an obstacle?" + +She wheeled round at the first deliberate syllable. The electric +light flared upon her pale, proud face. She stood in dead silence, +looking at him. + +"You mustn't mind," he said persuasively, still without lifting his eyes. +"I swear I'll never tell. Come now!" + +Very quietly she turned and closed the window; then with a certain +stateliness she advanced to the table at which he sat, and stopped +before it. + +"I think you are making a mistake," she said, in a voice that had a hint +of girlish sweetness about it despite its formality. + +He looked up then with a jerk, and the next instant was on his feet. + +"Gad! I'm tremendously sorry! What must you take me for? I took you for +Mrs. Damer. I beg you will forgive me." + +She smiled a little, and some of the severity went out of her face. For a +moment that too seemed girlish. + +"It is of no consequence. I saw it was a mistake." + +"An idiotic mistake!" he declared with emphasis. "And you are not a bit +like Mrs. Damer either. Are you waiting for someone? Would you like me to +clear out?" + +"Certainly not. I am going myself." + +"Oh, but don't!" he begged her very seriously. "I shall take it horribly +to heart if you do. And really, I don't deserve such a snub as that." + +Again she faintly smiled. "I am not feeling malicious, but you are +expecting your partner. And I--" + +"No, I am not," he asserted. "My partner has basely deserted me for +another fellow. I came in here merely because I was wandering about +seeking distraction. Please don't go--unless I bore you--in which case +you have only to dismiss me." + +She turned her eyes questioningly upon the cards before him. "What are +you doing with them? Is it a game?" + +"Won't you sit down?" he said, "and I will tell you." + +She seated herself facing him. "Well?" + +He considered the cards for a little, his brows bent. Then, "It is a +magician's game," he said. "Let me read your fortune." + +She hesitated. + +Instantly he looked up. "You are not afraid?" + +She met his look, a certain wistfulness in her grey eyes. "Oh, no, not +afraid--only sceptical." + +"Only sceptical!" he echoed. "That is a worldwide complaint. But anyone +with imagination can always pretend. You are not good at pretending?" + +"Not particularly." + +His eyes challenged hers. "Perhaps you have never needed an anaesthetic?" +he said coolly. + +She looked slightly startled. "What do you mean?" + +He leaned deliberately forward across the table. "You know what an +anaesthetic does, don't you? It cheats the senses of pain. And a little +humbug does the same for the mind. Of course you don't believe anything. +I don't myself. But you can't stand for ever and contemplate an abyss of +utter ignorance. You must weave a little romance about it for the sake of +your self-respect." + +She looked straight into the challenging eyes. The wistfulness was still +in her own. "Then you are offering to weave a little romance for me?" she +said, with a faint involuntary sigh. + +He made her a brief bow. "If you will permit me to do so." + +"To relieve your boredom?" she suggested with a smile. + +"And yours," he smiled back, taking up the cards. + +She did not contradict him. She only lowered her eyes to the deft hands +that were disposing the cards in mystic array upon the table. + +There followed a few moments of silence; then in his careless, unmusical +drawl the man spoke. + +"Do you mind telling me your first name? It is essential to the game, of +course, or I shouldn't presume to ask." + +"My name is Anne," she said. + +The noise below had lessened considerably, and this fact seemed to cause +her some relief. The tension had gone out of her bearing. She sat with +her chin upon her hand. + +Not a beautiful woman by any means, she yet possessed that indescribable +charm which attracts almost in spite of itself. There was about her +every movement a queenly grace that made her remarkable, and yet she was +plainly not one to court attention. Her face in repose had a look of +unutterable weariness. + +"How old are you please?" said the magician. + +"Twenty-five." + +He glanced up at her. + +"Yes, twenty-five," she repeated. "I am twenty-five to-day." + +He looked at her fixedly for a few seconds, then in silence returned to +his cards. + +She continued to watch him without much interest. The dance-music was +quickening to the _finale_. The hubbub of voices had died away. Evidently +a good many people had ceased to dance. + +Suddenly her companion spoke. "Do you like diamonds?" + +She smiled at the question. "Yes, I like them. I haven't a passion +for them." + +"No," he said, without raising his eyes. "You haven't a passion for +anything at present. You will have soon." + +"I think it very unlikely," she said. + +"Of course you do." He was manoeuvring the cards rapidly with one hand. +"Your eyes have not been opened yet. I see an exciting time before you. +You are going to have an illness first. That comes in the near future." + +"I have never been ill in my life," she said. + +"No? It will be an experience for you, then--not a very painful one, I +hope. Are you getting nervous?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Ah! That's as well, because here comes the King of Diamonds. He has +taken a decided fancy to you, and if you have any heart at all, which +I can't discover, you ought to end by being the Queen. No, here comes +the Knave--confound his impudence!--and, by Jove, yes, followed by the +missing heart. I am glad you have got one anyway, even if the King is +not in it. It looks as if you will have some trouble with that Knave, +so beware of him." He glanced up at her for a moment. "Beware of him!" +he repeated deliberately. "He is a dangerous scamp. The King is the +man for you." + +She received his caution with that faint smile of hers that softened her +face but never seemed to reach her eyes. + +He continued his contemplation of the cards in silence for some seconds. +"Yes," he said finally, "I see an exciting future before you. I hope you +will look out for me when you come into your own. I should value your +majesty's favour immensely." + +"I will give you a place at court as the Queen's jester," she said. + +He glanced up again sharply, met her smile, and bowed with much ceremony. +"Your majesty's most humble servant!" he declared, "I enter upon my +functions from this day forward. You will see my cap and bells in the +forefront of the throng when you ride to your coronation." + +"You are sure there will be a coronation?" she asked. + +"It is quite evident," he replied with conviction. + +"Even though I chance to be married already?" + +He raised his brows. "That so?" he drawled. "Well, it rather complicates +matters, doesn't it? Still--" He looked again at the cards. "It seems +pretty certain. If it weren't for that hobgoblin of a Knave I should say +it was quite so. He comes between the King and the heart, you see. I +shouldn't be too intimate with him if I were you." + +She rose, still smiling. "I shall certainly keep him at a respectful +distance," she said. "Good-bye." + +"Oh, are you going? Let me escort you! Really, I've nothing else to do." +He swept the cards together and sprang to his feet. "Where may I take +you? Would you like some refreshment?" + +She accepted his proffered arm though she instantly negatived his +proposal. "Shall we go down to the vestibule? No doubt you have a partner +for the next dance." + +"Have you?" he questioned keenly. + +"That is beside the point," she remarked. + +"Not at all. It is the centre and crux of the situation. Do say you are +disengaged for the next!" His manner became almost boyishly eager. He +had shed his drawl like a garment. "Say it!" he insisted. + +She stood in the doorway as one halting between two opinions. "But if I +am not disengaged?" she said. + +He laughed. "There is a remedy for that, I fancy. And the Queen can do +no wrong. Don't be a slave to the great god Convention! He's such a +hideous bore." + +His bold dark eyes smiled freely into hers. It was evident that he wasted +little time before the shrine of the deity he condemned. But for all +their mastery, they held a certain persuasive charm as well. She +hesitated a moment longer--and was lost. + +"Well, where shall we go?" + +"I know of an excellent sitting-out place if your majesty will deign to +accompany me," he said, "a corner where one can see without being +seen--always an advantage, you will allow." + +"You seem to know this place rather well," she observed, as she suffered +him to lead her away in triumph. + +He smiled shrewdly. "A wise general always studies his ground," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + +The chosen corner certainly had the advantage of privacy. It was an +alcove at the end of one of the long narrow passages in which the ancient +hostelry abounded, and the only light it boasted filtered through a +square aperture in the wall which once had held a window. Through this +aperture the curious could spy into the hall below, which just then was +thronged with dancers who were crowding out of the ballroom and drifting +towards the refreshment-room, the entrance to which was also visible. + +An ancient settee had been placed in this coign of vantage, and upon this +they established themselves by mutual consent. + +The man was laughing a little below his breath. "I feel like a +refugee," he said. + +His companion leaned her arms upon the narrow row sill and gazed +downwards. "A refugee from boredom?" she suggested. "We are all that, +more or less." + +"I dispute that," he said at once. "It is only the bores who are +ever bored." + +"And I dispute that," she replied, without turning, "of necessity, in +self-defence." + +He leaned forward to catch the light upon her profile. "You are bored?" + +She smiled faintly in the gloom. "That is why I have engaged the services +of a jester." + +"By Jove," he said, "I'm glad you pitched on me." + +She made a slight movement of impatience. "Isn't it rather futile to say +that sort of thing?" + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Because you know quite well it was not a matter of choice." + +"Rather a matter of _manque de mieux_?" he suggested coolly. + +She turned from her contemplation of the crowd below. "I am not going to +contradict you," she said, "I never foster _amour propre_ in a man. It is +always a plant of hardy growth." + +"'Hardy' is not the word," he declared. "Say 'rank,' and you will be +nearer the mark. I fully endorse your opinion. We are a race of +conceited, egotistical jackanapeses, and we all think we are going to +lick creation till a pretty woman comes along and makes us dance to her +piping like a row of painted marionettes. But is the pretty woman any +the happier, do you think, for tumbling us thus ruthlessly off our +pedestals? I sometimes wonder if the sight of the sawdust doesn't make +her wish she hadn't." + +The drawl in his voice was very apparent as he uttered the last sentence. +His chin was propped upon his hands. He was obviously studying her with a +deliberate criticism that observed and considered every detail. + +But his scrutiny held without embarrassing her. She met it with no +conscious effort. + +"I can't bear cynicism," she told him frankly. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Cynics--real cynics--never can." + +"But I am not a cynic." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Yes, quite sure." + +"And yet you tell me that you never take the trouble to flatter the +inferior male. That's conflicting evidence, you know. Are you a +man-hater, by the way?" + +She shivered as if at a sudden draught. "I'm not prepared to answer that +question off-hand." she said. + +"Very prudent of you!" he commented. "Do you know I owe you an apology?" + +"I shouldn't have said so." + +"No? Well, let me confess. I'm rather good at confessing. I didn't +believe you just now when you said you were twenty-five. Now I do. That +single streak of prudence was proof absolute and convincing." + +"I usually tell the truth," she said somewhat stiffly. + +"Yes, it takes a genius to lie properly. I am not so good at it myself as +I should like to be. But a woman of twenty-five ought not to look like a +princess of eighteen--a tired princess moreover, who ought to have been +sent to bed long ago." + +Her laugh had in it a note of bitterness. "You certainly are not the sort +of genius you aspire to be," she said, "any more than I am a princess of +eighteen." + +"But you will be a queen at thirty," he said. "Hullo! Here is someone +coming! Don't speak, and p'r'aps they won't discover us. They can't +stay long." + +He rose swiftly with the words and blocked the little spy-hole with +his body. Certainly footsteps were approaching, but they ceased before +they reached the alcove at the end of the passage. There was another +settee midway. + +"Oh, this is quite comfortable," said a woman's voice. "Here I am, Major +Shirley! It's dark, isn't it, but rather a relief after the glare +downstairs. What a crush it is! I am beginning to think the Hunt Ball +rather a farce, for it is next to impossible to dance." + +"People don't know how to dance nowadays," grumbled Major Shirley in +response. "I can't stand these American antics. That young Nap Errol +fairly sickens me." + +"Oh, but he is a splendid dancer," protested his partner tolerantly. + +"Oh course you say so," growled the Major. "All women like that horrid +little whipper-snapper. I can't see what in thunder they find to attract +them. I call him a downright cad myself, and I'm inclined to think him a +blackguard as well. He wouldn't be tolerated if it weren't for his +dollars, and they all belong to his brother, I'm told." + +"Ah! He is a charming man. Such a pity he is a cripple!" + +"He would probably be as insufferable as Nap if he weren't," rejoined the +Major gloomily. "I can't think what the County are coming to. They will +accept anybody nowadays, it seems to me. I even met that little bounder +at the Rifle Club the other day. Heaven knows how he got in. Dollars +again, I suppose, confound his audacity!" + +His partner made a slight movement of uneasiness. "I wonder where he +is. I haven't seen him for some time. I hope he isn't anywhere +within earshot." + +"Not he! He is stowed away in some corner well out of the way with his +latest conquest. He won't turn up again this evening. He never does when +once he goes to earth--the wily young fox." + +"Who is his latest conquest, I wonder?" mused the woman. "I thought it +was Mrs. Damer. But I have just seen her dancing with young Waring." + +"Mrs. Damer! Why, that was the day before yesterday!" The Major laughed +unpleasantly. "'Anyone for a change, but no one for long,' is his motto. +The fellow is an infernal bounder through and through. He will get a +sound hiding one of these days, and serve him jolly well right, say I!" + +"My dear Major, how you hate him! Anyone would think he had tried to +flirt with Violet." + +"He'd better," growled the Major. + +There came a slight sound from the darkness of the alcove, as though +someone faintly chuckled. + +"What's that?" asked the woman's voice nervously. + +"Nothing--nothing!" said the Major testily. "Somebody laughing in the +hall. I wonder where my wife is. I shall clear out soon. I'm tired of +this show. Haven't had a decent dance all the evening. Shouldn't think +you have either. They ought to build a Town Hall in this place, and do +the thing properly." + +"There is some talk of it, you know. Now that there is a millionaire in +the neighbourhood it really might be done. The Carfaxes would help too, I +am sure. Sir Giles is very open-handed." + +"Drunken beast!" commented the Major. "A pretty spectacle he has been +making of himself to-night. He is sitting in a corner of the +refreshment-room now absolutely incapable. He reached the noisy stage +very early in the evening. I am not sure that he even came sober." + +"No! Isn't it too pitiful for words? That young wife of his! I can't +think how she endures it. It must be positive martyrdom." + +"Lady Carfax is a fool!" said the Major crossly. "I can't stand these +martyrs. If she leads a dog's life it's her own fault. She's a fool to +put up with it." + +"Perhaps she can't help herself," pleaded the woman. + +"Stuff and nonsense! No woman need be the slave of a drunken sot like +that. It's a downright offence to me to be in the same room with the +fellow. He always reeks of drink. And she has, or professes to have, a +certain amount of refinement. Not much, I dare say. She was nothing but +his bailiff's daughter, you know, and people of that class don't +generally suffer from an exaggerated sense of duty. She probably sticks +to the man because she wants to keep in with the County. I don't like the +woman, never did. Her airs and graces always rub me up wrong way. Why +couldn't Sir Giles have married in his own set? He probably wouldn't be +so fond of the whiskey bottle now if he had." + +"I must say I like Lady Carfax," broke in the woman with decision. +"Whatever her origin, that queenliness of hers is not assumed. I believe +her to be intensely reserved, and, perhaps for that very reason, I have a +genuine admiration for her." + +"My dear Mrs. Randal, you'd find points to admire in a wax candle," +grunted the Major. "She always makes me think of one; pale and pure and +saintly--I can't stand the type. Let's go downstairs and find Violet." + +"Oh, not saintly, I think," protested Mrs. Randal charitably. "Saintly +people are so uninteresting." + +The Major laughed. He was already on his feet. + +"Probably not--probably not. But a show of saintliness is more than +enough to frighten me away. A woman who can't understand a wink I +invariably strike forthwith off my visiting-list." + +"How cruel of you!" laughed Mrs. Randal. They were already moving away +down the corridor. Her voice receded as they went. "But I can't +understand any man daring to wink at Lady Carfax; I can't, indeed." + +"That's just what I complain about," grumbled Major Shirley. "Those +wax-candle sort of women never see a joke. What fools they are to leave +the place in darkness like this! Can you see where you are going?" + +"Yes, we are just at the head of the stairs. It is rather foolish as you +say. People might hurt themselves." + +"Of course they might. Infernally dangerous. I shall complain." + +The voices fell away into distance; the band in the ballroom struck +up again, and the woman on the settee in the alcove sat up and +prepared to rise. + +"Suppose we go down now," she said. + +Her companion moved away from the little window as one coming out of a +reverie. "Our gallant Major Shirley seems somewhat disgruntled tonight," +he said. "Do you know him?" + +"Yes, I know him." Her words fell with icy precision. + +"So do I." The man's tone was one of sheer amusement. "I had the pleasure +of meeting him at the Rifle Club the other day. Someone introduced us. It +was great fun. If there were a little more light, I would show you what +he looked like. For some reason he wasn't pleased. Do you really want to +go downstairs though? It is much nicer here." + +She had risen. They were facing one another in the twilight. "Yes," she +said, and though still quiet her voice was not altogether even. "I want +to go, please." + +"Mayn't I tell you something first?" he said. + +She stood silent, evidently waiting for his communication. + +"It's not of paramount importance," he said. "But I think you may as well +know it for your present edification and future guidance. Madam, I am +that wicked, wanton, wily fox, that whipper-snapper, that unmitigated +bounder--Nap Errol!" + +He made the announcement with supreme complacence. It was evident that he +felt not the faintest anxiety as to how she would receive it. There was +even a certain careless hauteur about him as though the qualities he +thus frankly enumerated were to him a source of pride. + +She heard him with no sign of astonishment. "I knew it," she said +quietly. "I have known you by sight for some time." + +"And you were not afraid to speak to such a dangerous scoundrel?" he +said. + +"You don't strike me as being very formidable," she answered. "Moreover, +if you remember, it was you who spoke first." + +"To be sure," he said. "It was all of a piece with my habitual confounded +audacity. Shall I tell you something more? I wonder whether I dare." + +"Wait!" she said imperatively. "It is my turn to tell you something, +though it is more than possible that you know it already. Mr. Errol, I +am--Lady Carfax!" + +He bowed low. "I did know," he said, in a tone from which all hint of +banter had departed. "But I thank you none the less for telling me. I +much doubted if you would. And that brings me to my second--or is it my +third?--confession. I did not take you for Mrs. Damer in the card-room a +little while ago. I took you for no one but yourself. No man of ordinary +intelligence could do otherwise. But I had been wanting to make your +acquaintance all the evening, and no one would be kind enough to present +me. So I took the first opportunity that occurred, trusting to the end to +justify the means." + +"But why have you told me?" she said. + +"Because I think you are a woman who appreciates the truth." + +"I am," she said. "But I do not often hear it as I have heard it +to-night" + +He put out his hand to her impulsively. "Say, Lady Carfax, let me go and +kick that old scandal-monger into the middle of next week!" + +Involuntarily almost she gave her hand in return. "No, you mustn't," she +said, laughing faintly. "The fault was ours. You know the ancient adage +about listeners. We deserved it all." + +"Don't talk about deserts!" he exclaimed, with unexpected vehemence. "He +doesn't deserve to have a whole bone left in his body for speaking of you +so. Neither do I for suffering it in my presence!" + +She freed her hand gently. "You could not have done otherwise. Believe +me, I am not altogether sorry that you were with me when it happened. It +is just as well that you should know the truth, and I could not have told +it you myself. Come, shall we go down?" + +"Wait a minute!" he said. "Let me know how I stand with you first. Have +you decided to pass over that lie of mine, or are you going to cut me +next time we meet?" + +"I shall not cut you," she said. + +"You are going to acknowledge me then with the coldest of nods, which is +even more damnable," he returned, with gloomy conviction. + +She hesitated for an instant. Then, "Mr. Errol," she said gently, "will +you believe me when I say that, however I treat you in the future, that +lie of yours will in no way influence me? You have helped me much more +than you realise by your trifling to-night. I am not sure that you meant +to do so. But I am grateful to you all the same." + +"Then we are friends?" said Nap, quickly. + +"Yes, we are friends; but it is very unlikely that we shall meet again. I +cannot invite you to call." + +"And you won't call either on my mother?" he asked. + +"I am afraid not." + +He was silent a moment. Then, "So let it be!" he said. "But I fancy we +shall meet again notwithstanding. So _au revoir_, Lady Carfax! Can you +find your own way down?" + +She understood in an instant the motive that prompted the question, and +the impulse to express her appreciation of it would not be denied. She +extended her hand with an assumption of royal graciousness that did not +cloak her gratitude. "Good-bye, Sir Jester!" she said. + +He took her fingers gallantly upon his sleeve and touched them with his +lips. "Farewell to your most gracious majesty!" he responded. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CHARIOT OF THE GODS + + +The Hunt Ball was over, and Mrs. Damer, wife of the M.F.H., was +standing on the steps of the Carfax Arms, bidding the last members of +the Hunt farewell. + +Nap Errol was assisting her. He often did assist Mrs. Damer with that +careless, half-insolent gallantry of his that no woman ever dreamed of +resenting. Like his namesake of an earlier date he held his own wherever +he went by sheer, stupendous egotism. + +The crowd had thinned considerably, the band had begun to pack up. In the +refreshment-room waiters were hurrying to and fro. + +"Isn't it horrid?" laughed Mrs. Damer, shrugging her shoulders and +shivering. "One feels so demoralised at this end of the night. Nap, I +wish you would find my husband. I've said good-night to everybody, and I +want to go home to bed." + +"Lady Carfax hasn't gone yet," observed Nap. "I saw her standing in the +doorway of the ladies' cloak-room just now." + +"Lady Carfax! Are you sure? I thought they went long ago. Is their +carriage waiting then?" + +"Yes. It is still there." + +Mrs. Damer hastened into the ladies' cloak-room, still half-incredulous. + +At her entrance Anne Carfax, clad in a white wrap that made her face look +ghastly, turned from the dying fire. + +"My dear Lady Carfax!" exclaimed Mrs. Damer. "I quite thought you left +ages ago. What is it? Is anything the matter?" + +The pale lips smiled. "No, nothing, thank you. I am only waiting for +my husband." + +"Ah! Then we are in the same plight. I am waiting for mine." Mrs. Damer +hastened to veil her solicitude, which was evidently unwelcome. She +caught up her cloak and began to fumble with it. The attendant had gone. + +"Let me!" said Anne, in her quiet voice, and took it from her. + +Her fingers touched Mrs. Damer's neck, and Mrs. Damer shivered audibly. +"Thank you, thank you! You are as cold as ice. Are you well wrapped up?" + +"Yes, quite. I am never very warm, you know. It is not my nature. Is Mr. +Damer ready? I hope you will not delay your departure on my account. Sir +Giles will not be long, I think." + +"We will send Nap Errol to find him," said Mrs. Damer. + +"Oh, no, thank you. That is quite unnecessary. Please do not trouble +about me. A few minutes more or less make little difference." + +The words came with the patience of deadly weariness. She was still +faintly smiling as she wound a scarf about Mrs. Damer's head. + +"I am quite ready, you see," she said. "I shall leave the moment +he appears." + +"My dear Lady Carfax, you have the patience of a saint. I am afraid +Phil does not find me so long-suffering." Mrs. Damer bustled back into +the hall. "Are you there, Nap? Do see if you can find Sir Giles. Poor +Lady Carfax is half-dead with cold and fit to drop with fatigue. Go and +tell him so." + +"Please do nothing of the sort," said Lady Carfax behind her. "No doubt +he will come when he is ready." + +Nap Errol looked from one to the other with swift comprehension in his +glance. "Let me put you into your carriage first, Mrs. Damer," he said, +offering his arm. "Your husband is busy for the moment--some trifling +matter. He begs you will not wait for him. I will drive him back in my +motor. I have to pass your way, you know." + +Mrs. Damer shook hands hurriedly with Lady Carfax and went with him. +There was something imperative about Nap just then. They passed out +together on to the baize-covered pavement, and Anne Carfax breathed a +faint sigh of relief. + +A few seconds later the Damer carriage was clattering down the street, +and Nap Errol was once more by her side. + +"Look here," he said. "Let me take you home in my motor first. No one +will know." + +She looked at him, her lips quivering a little as though they still tried +to smile. "Thank you very much," she said. "But--I think not." + +"No one will ever know," he reiterated. "I will just set you down at your +own door and go away. Come, Lady Carfax!" His dark eyes gazed straight +into her own, determined, dominating. The high cheek-bones and long, lean +jaw looked as though fashioned in iron. + +"Come!" he said again. + +She made a slight forward movement as if to yield, and then drew back +again. "Really, I had better wait and go with my husband," she said. + +"You had better not!" he said with emphasis. "I have just seen him. He is +in the smoke-room. I won't tell you what he is like. You probably know. +But if you are a wise woman you will leave him for Damer to look after, +and come with me." + +That decided her. She threw the hood of her cloak over her head and +turned in silence to the door. + +Errol paused to pull on an overcoat and then followed her on to the +steps. A large covered motor had just glided up. He handed her into it. +"By Jove, you are cold!" he said. + +She made no rejoinder. + +He stepped in beside her, after a word with the chauffeur, and +shut the door. + +Almost instantly they were in motion, and in another moment were shooting +forward swiftly down the long, ill-lighted street. + +Anne Carfax sank back in her corner and lay motionless. The glare of the +little electric lamp upon her face showed it white and tired. Her eyes +were closed. + +The man beside her sat bolt upright, his eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the +window in front, his jaw set grimly. He held the gloves he had worn all +the evening between his hands, and his fingers worked at them +unceasingly. He was rending the soft kid to ribbons. + +They left the desolate street behind and came into total darkness. + +Suddenly, but very quietly, Anne spoke. "This is very kind of you, +Mr. Errol." + +He turned towards her. She had opened her eyes to address him, but the +lids drooped heavily. + +"The kindness is on your side, Lady Carfax," he said deliberately. "If +you manage to inspire it in others, the virtue is still your own." + +She smiled and closed her eyes again. It was evident that she did not +desire to talk. + +He looked away from her, glanced at his torn gloves, and tossed them +impatiently from him. + +For ten minutes neither spoke. The car ran smoothly on through the night +like an inspired chariot of the gods. There was no sound of wheels. They +seemed to be borne on wings. + +For ten minutes the man sat staring stonily before him, rigid as a +statue, while the woman lay passive by his side. + +But at the end of that ten minutes the speed began to slacken. They came +softly to earth and stopped. + +Errol opened the door and alighted. "Have you a key?" he said, as he gave +her his hand. + +She stood above him, looking downwards half-dreamily as one emerging from +a deep slumber. + +"Do you know," she said, beginning to smile, "I thought that you were the +Knave of Diamonds?" + +"You've been asleep," he said rather curtly. + +She gave a slight shudder as the night air brought her back, and in a +moment, like the soft dropping of a veil, her reserve descended upon her. + +"I am afraid I have," she said, "Please excuse me. Are we already at the +Manor? Yes, I have the key." + +She took his hand and stepped down beside him. + +"Good night, Mr. Errol," she said. "And thank you." + +He did not offer to accompany her to the door. A light was burning +within, and he merely stood till he heard the key turn in the lock, then +stepped back into the motor and slammed it shut without response of any +sort to her last words. + +Anne Carfax was left wondering if her dream had been a cause of offense. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CAKE MORNING + + +"Oh, bother! It's cake morning." Dot Waring turned from the Rectory +breakfast-table with a flourish of impatience. "And I do so want to hear +all about it," she said. "You might have come down earlier, Ralph." + +"My good sister," said the rector's son, helping himself largely to bread +and honey, "consider yourself lucky that I have come down at all after +dancing half the night with Mrs. Damer, who is no light weight." + +"You didn't, Ralph! I am quite sure you didn't! I'm not going to believe +anything so absurd." Nevertheless she paused on her way to the door for +further details. + +"All right. I didn't," said Ralph complacently. "And Sir Giles didn't get +drunk as a lord and tumble about the ballroom, and yell comic--awfully +comic--songs, till someone hauled him off to the refreshment-room and +filled him up with whiskey till he could sing no more!" + +"Oh, Ralph! Not really! How utterly beastly! Was Lady Carfax there?" + +"She was at first, but she cleared out. I don't know where she went to." + +"Oh, poor Lady Carfax! How horrid for her! Ralph, I--I could kick +that man!" + +"So could I," said Ralph heartily, "if someone would kindly hold him for +me. He is a drunken blackguard, and if he doesn't end in an asylum, I +shall never express a medical opinion again." + +"P'r'aps he'll die of apoplexy first," said Dot vindictively. + +"Whatever he dies of," said Ralph, "I shall attend his funeral with the +greatest pleasure. Hadn't you better go and make that cake? I shall want +it by tea-time." + +"You are a pig!" the girl declared, pushing the sunny hair back from her +gay young face. "Isn't Bertie late this morning? Perhaps he isn't coming. +Dad won't be able to take him anyhow, for old Squinny is bad again and +sent for him in a hurry." + +"That wretched old humbug! That means more beef-tea, not approaching +dissolution. Old Squinny will never dissolve in the ordinary way." + +"Well, I must go." Dot reached the door and began to swing it to and +fro, gathering impetus for departure. "By the way, was Bertie there?" +she asked. + +"Bertie who?" + +"Bertie Errol, of course. Who else?" + +"There are plenty of Berties in the world," remarked Ralph, helping +himself again to bread and honey. "No, Bertram Errol was not present. But +Napoleon Errol was. It was he who so kindly shunted Mrs. Damer on to me. +_Nota bene_! Give Napoleon Errol a wide berth in future. He has the craft +of a conjurer and the subtlety of a serpent. I believe he is a Red +Indian, myself." + +"Oh, Ralph, he isn't! He is as white as you are." + +"He isn't white at all," Ralph declared, "outside or in. Outside he is +the colour of a mangold-wurzel, and inside he is as black as ink. You +will never get that cake made if you don't go." + +"Oh, bother!" Dot swung open the door for the last time, turned to +depart, and then exclaimed in a very different tone, "Why, Bertie, so +here you are! We were just talking of you." + +A straight, well-made youth, with a brown face that laughed +good-temperedly, was advancing through the hall. + +"Hullo!" he said, halting at the doorway. "Awfully nice of you! What were +you saying, I wonder? Hullo, Ralph! Only just down, you lazy beggar? +Ought to be ashamed of yourself." + +He stood, slapping his riding-boots with a switch, looking at Dot with +the direct eyes of good-fellowship. His eyes were clear and honest as +a child's. + +"Dad's away," said Dot. "He was sent for early this morning." + +"Is he though? That means a holiday. What shall we do?" + +"I don't know what you will do," said Dot. "I am going to bake cakes." + +"I'll come and bake cakes too," said Bertie promptly. "I'm rather a swell +at that. I can make fudge too, real American fudge, the most aristocratic +thing on the market. It's a secret, of course, but I'll let you into it, +if you'll promise not to tell." + +"How do you know I can keep a secret?" laughed Dot, leading the way to +the kitchen. + +"You would keep a promise," he said with conviction. + +"If I made one," she threw back. + +"I would trust you without," he declared. + +"Very rash of you! I wonder if you are as trustworthy as that." + +"My word is my bond--always," said Bertie. + +She turned and looked at him critically. "Yes, I think it is," she +admitted. "You are quite the honestest boy I ever met. They ought to have +called you George Washington." + +"You may if you like," said Bertie. + +She laughed--her own inexpressibly gay laugh. "All right, George! It +suits you perfectly. I always did think Bertie was a silly name. Why +didn't you go to the Hunt Ball last night?" + +Bertie's merry face sobered. "My brother wasn't so well yesterday. I was +reading to him half the night. He couldn't sleep, and Tawny Hudson is no +good for that sort of thing." + +The merriment went out of Dot's face too. It grew softer, older, more +womanly. "You are very good to your brother," she said. + +He frowned abruptly. "Good to him! Great Scot! Why, he's miles too good +for any of us. Don't ever class him with Nap or me! We're just ordinary +sinners. But he--he's a king." + +A queer little gleam that was not all mirth made Dot's eyes grow +brighter. "I like you for saying that," she said. + +"Why, of course I say it!" he protested. "It's true! He's the finest chap +in the world, all true gold and not a grain of dross. That's how it is we +all knock under to him. Even Nap does that, though he doesn't care a +tinker's curse for anyone else on this muddy little planet." + +"You are awfully fond of him, aren't you?" said Dot sympathetically. + +"Fond of Lucas! I'd die for him!" the boy declared with feeling. "He's +father and brother and friend to me. There isn't anything I wouldn't do +for him. Did you ever hear how he came to be a cripple?" + +"Never," said Dot. + +"He was knocked down by an electric car," Bertie said, rushing through +the story with headlong ardour, "trying to save his best girl's dog from +being run over. He did save it, but he was frightfully hurt--paralysed +for months. It's years ago now. I was only a little shaver at the time. +But I shall never forget it. He always was good to me, and I thought he +was done for." + +"And the girl?" asked Dot rather breathlessly. + +"Married an English nobleman," he rejoined, with a brevity that spoke +volumes. "I say, what about those cakes? Hadn't we better begin?" + +Dot turned her attention to the fire. "I should like to meet your +brother," she remarked. "I've never spoken to a real flesh-and-blood hero +in my life." + +"Nothing easier," said Bertie promptly. "Come over and have tea. Come +this afternoon, you and Ralph." + +But Dot hesitated in evident doubt. "I don't know what Dad would +say," she said. + +"Oh, rats! He wouldn't mind. And my mother would be delighted. Come early +and I'll show you the hunters. Nap has just bought a beauty. She's a +blood mare, black as ink." + +"Like Nap," said Dot absently; then in haste, "No, I didn't mean that. I +wasn't thinking." + +Bertie was looking at her shrewdly. "What do you know about Nap?" he +said. + +She coloured deeply. "Nothing, nothing whatever. I only know him +by sight." + +"And you don't like him?" + +"I--I think he looks rather wicked," she stammered. + +Bertie grunted. "Do you think I look wicked too?" + +"Of course I don't. No one could." + +He laughed. "That's all right. You can think what you like of Nap. +Everybody does. But even he is not all bad, you know." + +"I'm sure he isn't. But--but--" Desperately Dot turned from the fire and +faced him. "I've got to say it, Bertie," she said rather piteously. +"Please don't be offended. You know I--I'm young. I don't know many +people. And--and--though I would like to know your eldest brother +immensely, I think I won't come to Baronmead if Nap is there. My father +doesn't want me to meet him--unless I am obliged." + +She uttered the last words in evident distress. Bertie's face had grown +quite serious, even stern. He was looking at her with a directness which +for the first time in their acquaintance she found disconcerting. + +He did not speak for several seconds. At length, "How old are you?" he +said abruptly. + +"Eighteen," she murmured. + +He continued to look at her speculatively. "Well," he said at length, +speaking with something of a twang, "I guess your father knows what he's +about, but it beats me to understand why he has me here to study. I guess +I'd better shunt." + +"Oh, please don't!" she said quickly. "It isn't you at all. It's +only Nap." + +"Damn Nap!" said Bertie, with some fervour. "Oh, does that shock you? I +forgot you were a parson's daughter. Well, it may be your father is +right after all. Anyway, I shan't quarrel with him so long as he doesn't +taboo me too." + +"He won't do that," said Dot, with confidence. "He likes you." + +Bertie's good-looking face began to smile again. "Well, I'm not a +blackguard anyway," he said. "And I never shall be if you keep on being +kind to me. That's understood, is it? Then shake!" + +They shook, and Dot realised with relief that the difficult subject was +dismissed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIRST ENCOUNTER + + +It was a week after the Hunt Ball that Anne Carfax, sitting alone at tea +in her drawing-room before a blazing fire, was surprised by the sudden +opening of the door, and the announcement of old Dimsdale the butler, +"Mr. Nap Errol to see your ladyship!" + +She rose to meet him, her surprise in her face, and he, entering with +that light, half-stealthy tread of his, responded to it before his hand +touched hers. + +"I know my presence is unexpected, and my welcome precarious, but as none +of my friends have been able to give me any news of you, I determined to +chance my reception and come myself to inquire for your welfare." + +"You are very good," said Anne, but she spoke with a certain stateliness +notwithstanding. There was no pleasure in her eyes. + +Nap, however, was sublimely self-assured. "I am beginning to think I must +be," he said, "since you say so. For I know you to be strictly truthful." + +Anne made no response. She did not even smile. + +"I am in luck to find you alone," proceeded Nap, surveying her with bold +dark eyes that were nothing daunted by her lack of cordiality. + +"My husband will be in soon," she answered quietly. + +"I shall be delighted to make his acquaintance," said Nap imperturbably. +"Has he been hunting?" + +"Yes." Anne's tone was distant. She seemed to be unaware of the fact that +her visitor was still on his feet. + +But Nap knew no embarrassment. He stood on the hearth with his back to +the fire. "You ought to hunt," he said. "Why don't you?" + +"I do--occasionally," Anne said. + +"What's the good of that? You ought to regularly. There's nothing like +it. Say, Lady Carfax, why don't you?" He smiled upon her disarmingly. +"Are you wondering if I take one lump or two? I take neither, and no +milk, please." + +Against her will she faintly smiled. + +"I thought that was it," said Nap. "Why didn't you ask me? Are these +scones in the fender? May I offer you one?" + +He dropped upon his knees to pick up the dish, and in that attitude +humbly proffered it to her. + +She found it impossible to remain ungracious. She could only seat herself +at the tea-table and abandon the attempt. + +"Sit down and help yourself," she said. + +He pulled a large hassock to him and sat facing her. "Now we can be +sociable," he said. "Really, you know, you ought to hunt more often. I +have never seen you in the field once. What on earth do you do with +yourself?" + +"Many things," said Anne. + +"What things?" he persisted. + +"I help my husband to the best of my ability with the estate and try to +keep an eye on the poorest tenants. And then I practise the piano a good +deal. I haven't time for much besides." + +"I say, do you play?" said Nap, keenly interested. "I do myself, a +little, not the piano--the violin. Lucas likes it, or I suppose I should +have given it up long ago. But I generally have to manage without an +accompaniment. There is no one can accompany at our place. It's a bit +thin, you know, playing by yourself." + +Anne's face reflected his interest. "Tell me more about it," she said. +"What sort of music do you care for?" + +"Oh, anything, from Christmas carols to sonatas. I never play to please +myself, and Lucas has very varied tastes." + +"He is your elder brother?" questioned Anne. + +"Yes, and one of the best." Nap spoke with unwonted feeling. "He is +hopelessly crippled, poor chap, and suffers infernally. I often wonder +why he puts up with it. I should have shot myself long ago, had I been +in his place." + +"Perhaps he is a good man," Anne said. + +He shot her a keen glance. "What do you mean by a good man?" + +"I mean a man who does his duty without shirking." + +"Is that your ideal?" he said, "There are plenty of men that do that, and +yet their lives are anything but blameless." + +"Quite possibly," she agreed. "But if a man does his duty, he has not +lived in vain. It can be no man's duty to destroy himself." + +"And how would you define 'duty'?" said Nap. + +She let her eyes meet his for a moment. "I can only define it for +myself," she said. + +"Will you do so for my benefit?" he asked. + +A faint colour rose to her face. She looked past him into the fire. There +was a deep sadness about her lips as she made reply. + +"I have not been given much to do. I have to content myself with 'the +work that's nearest.'" + +Nap was watching her closely. "And if I did the same," he questioned in a +drawl that was unmistakably supercilious, "should I be a good man?" + +"I don't know what your capabilities are," she said. + +"I have vast capabilities for evil," he told her, with a cynical twist of +his thin-lipped mouth. + +She met his look again. "I am sorry," she said. + +"Are you really? But why? Doesn't the devil attract you? Honestly +now!" He leaned forward, staring straight at her, challenging her. "I +tell you frankly," he said, "I am not what you would call a good man. +But--the truth, mind!--would you like me any better if I were?" + +She smiled a little. There was undoubted fascination in the upturned face +with its fiery eyes and savage jaw. Perhaps the lips were cruel, but they +were not coarse. They were keenly sensitive. + +She did not answer him immediately, and during the pause his eyes never +flinched from hers. They were alive, glowing with insistence. + +"Yes," she said at length. "Quite honestly, I do prefer good men." + +"That wasn't exactly what I asked," said Nap, thrusting out his chin. + +"I think you are capable of drawing your own conclusions," she +answered gently. + +His look fell away from her. He began to munch scone with a +contemplative air. + +Anne gave him some tea, and he set it on the hearthrug between his +feet. The silence became lengthy. She was conscious of something in +the atmosphere that made her vaguely uneasy. Was it a cat he resembled, +crouching there in front of her? No, there was nothing domestic about +him though she had a feeling that he could purr when he was pleased. +Yes, there was undoubtedly something feline about him, a supple grace, +a noiselessness, a guile, that made her aware of the necessity for +caution in her dealings with him. This was a man of many +subtleties--she knew it instinctively--a man of tigerish temperament, +harmless as a kitten in sunshine, merciless as a fiend in storm. Yes, +he was certainly like a tiger, forcible even in repose. She had never +before encountered so dominant a personality. It affected her +strangely, half-attracting, half-repelling, arousing in her a sense of +antagonism that yet was not aversion. + +"I wish you would say all that out loud," said Nap. "You have such +interesting thoughts, it is really selfish of you not to express them." + +"Surely not," she said, "if you know what they are." + +He gave her an odd look as he lifted his tea-cup. + +"The Queen's jester is a privileged person," he said. "When the door of +her pleasaunce is closed to him he climbs up and looks over the wall." + +"Not always a discreet proceeding, I fear," Anne remarked. + +"Discretion, Lady Carfax, is but another term for decrepitude. I have +detected no symptoms of the disease at present." He drained his tea with +an arrogant gesture and handed the cup for more. "Which is the exact +reason why I have no intention of remaining on the top of the wall," he +said. "I will have a stronger dose this time, please." + +An unsteady hand began to fumble at the door, and Anne glanced up with a +start. The blood rose to her face. "I think it is my husband," she said, +in a low voice. + +Nap did not turn his head or answer. He sat motionless, still staring at +her, till the door began to open. Then, with a sudden, lithe movement, he +rose and kicked the hassock to one side. + +A big man in riding-dress tramped heavily into the room, and stopped in +the centre, peering before him under scowling brows. Not the kindest of +critics could have called Sir Giles Carfax handsome, though every feature +in his face was well formed. The blotchy complexion of the man and his +eyes of glaring malice marred him all too completely. He looked about +fifty, to judge by his iron-grey hair and moustache, but he might have +been less. He had immensely powerful shoulders that stooped a little. + +He continued to stand in the middle of the room and glare at the visitor +till Anne quietly bridged the gulf. + +"This is Mr. Nap Errol, Giles. Mr. Errol--my husband." + +She made the introduction without a tremor, but she kept her eyes +downcast as if she did not wish to see them meet. Perhaps she divined +that a gleam of supercilious humour flickered in Nap's eyes as he made +easy response. + +"I have been waiting for the pleasure of meeting you," he drawled. +"I dropped in on the chance, and Lady Carfax assured me you +wouldn't be long." + +Sir Giles scowled more heavily than before. He shot a malignant glance +at his wife. + +"Who in thunder made her so clever?" he growled. "And what did you want +to see me for? Have I ever met you before?" + +His voice was thick, the words somewhat difficult to distinguish. + +Nap's smile was unmistakably sardonic. "Many times," he said. "You nearly +rode over me on the last occasion. Doubtless the episode has escaped your +memory, but it made a more lasting impression upon mine." + +Sir Giles glared offensively, as if he deemed himself insulted. "I +remember," he said. "Your animal came down with you. You pushed in front +of me. But it was your own fault. You Americans never observe the rules +of sport. I'm always glad to see you come a cropper." + +"I am sure of it," said Nap politely. "It must gratify you immensely." + +Sir Giles uttered a brief, snarling laugh, and advanced abruptly to the +hearth. He towered above the slim American, but the latter did not appear +to shirk comparison with him. With his hands in his pockets he +nonchalantly opposed his insolence to the other man's half-tipsy tyranny. + +And Anne Carfax sat silent behind the tea-table and endured the encounter +with a mask-like patience that betrayed no faintest hint of what she +carried in her heart. + +"Well, what do you want to see me for?" Sir Giles demanded, with a +ferocious kick at the coals. + +Nap was quite ready with his answer. "I am really here on my brother's +behalf. There is a scheme afoot, as no doubt you know, for the building +of a Town Hall. My brother considers that the lord of the Manor"--he +bowed with thinly-veiled irony--"should have first say in the matter. But +I am at liberty to assure you that should you be in favour of the scheme +he is ready to offer you his hearty support." + +Sir Giles heard him out with lowering brows. It did not improve his +temper to see Anne's eyes flash sudden interrogation at Nap's serenely +smiling countenance, though he did not suspect the meaning of her glance. + +"I am not in favour of the scheme," he said shortly, as Nap ended. + +Nap slightly raised his brows. "No? I understood otherwise." + +The blood mounted to Sir Giles's forehead. "Either you were misinformed +or your intelligence is at fault," he said, with that in his voice that +was so nearly an open insult that, for a second, even Nap looked +dangerous. + +Then quite quietly, without raising her eyes, Anne intervened. "I think +you ought to explain to Mr. Errol, Giles, that you have only recently +changed your mind." + +Sir Giles rounded on her malignantly. "What the devil has that to do with +it, or with you, for that matter? Do you think I don't know my own mind? +Do you think--" + +"I know exactly what Lady Carfax thinks," cut in Nap, moving deliberately +so that he stood directly between Sir Giles and the tea-table. His back +was turned to Anne, and he kept it so. "And in the main, I agree with +her, though my sentiments are a little stronger than hers. I'll tell you +exactly what they are some day. I think you would be interested, or at +least not bored. But with regard to this Town Hall suggestion, what's +wrong with it, anyway? Couldn't you come over and talk it out with my +brother? He isn't well enough just now to come to you." + +The coolness of this speech took effect. Sir Giles glared for a few +moments till the speaker's steady regard became too much for him. Then, +with a lurching movement, he turned away. + +"No, I won't visit your brother! Why the deuce should I? Do you think I +belong to the rag, tag, and bobtail, that'll mix with the very scum of +society so long as there's money about? Do you think I'd lower myself to +associate with fellows like you?" + +"I guess you'd find it difficult," drawled Nap. + +He still stood with his back to the tea-table. He seemed to have +forgotten the woman who sat so rigid behind him. His fingers drummed a +careless tattoo upon the table-edge. He was unquestionably master of the +situation, and that without much apparent effort. + +And Sir Giles knew it, knew himself to be worsted, and that in his +wife's presence. He glanced at her through eyes narrowed to evil slits. +Her very impassivity goaded him. It seemed in some fashion to express +contempt. With violence he strode to the bell and pealed it vigorously. + +On the instant Nap turned. "So long, Lady Carfax!" + +She looked up at him. Her lips said nothing, but for that instant her +eyes entreated, and his eyes made swift response. + +He was smiling with baffling good humour as he turned round to Sir Giles. + +"Good-bye, sir! Delighted to have met you. I'll give your message to my +brother. It'll amuse him." + +He departed without a backward glance as the servant opened the door, +elaborately deaf to Sir Giles's half-strangled reply that he might go to +the devil and take his brother with him. + +He left dead silence in the room behind him, but the moment that the +clang of the front door told of his final exit the storm burst. + +Sir Giles, livid, stammering with rage, strode up and down and cursed the +departed visitor in lurid language, cursed the errand that had brought +him, and rated his wife for admitting him. + +"I will not know these impertinent, opulent Americans!" was the burden of +his maledictions. "As for that damned, insolent bounder, I will never +have him in the house again. Understand that! I know him. I've heard +Shirley talk of him. The man's a blackguard. And if I ever catch him +alone in your company after this, I'll thrash him--do you hear?--I'll +thrash him! So now you know what to expect!" + +It was at this point that Anne rose, passed quietly, with the bearing of +a queen, down the long room, and without a single word or glance went out +and closed the door very softly behind her. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE MEET + + +On one occasion, and one only, in the whole year were the gates of +the Manor thrown open to all comers, opulent Americans and +impecunious Britons alike. And this was when, in accordance with a +custom that had been observed from time immemorial, the foxhounds met +upon the Manor lawn. + +It was then that Sir Giles, who cursed this obligatory hospitality for +weeks beforehand, emerged with a smile as fixed as his scowl, shook hands +with the select few whom he deigned to number among his acquaintances and +pointedly ignored the many who did not enjoy this privilege. + +With old Dimsdale the butler rather than with his master rested the +honours of the house, and old Dimsdale did his part nobly; so nobly that +Major Shirley was heard to remark more than once that it was a pity he +and Sir Giles couldn't change places. It was the great day of Dimsdale's +year, and his was the proud task to see that none of the guests were +neglected. + +Anne usually rode to hounds on this occasion. Tall and stately, clad in +the conventional black riding-habit that only added grace to her severity +of outline, she moved among her husband's guests. And even those of them +who, like Major Shirley, resented that queenliness which was an inborn +part of her very nature, were fain to admit that she filled her position +as lady of the Manor with striking success. Though she had withdrawn +herself more and more of late from the society of the neighbourhood, she +acted the part of hostess with unfailing graciousness. On foot she moved +among the throng, greeting everyone she knew. + +Little Dot Waring, standing in the background with her brother on a +certain misty morning in January marked her progress with looks of loving +admiration. Lady Carfax's mount, a powerful grey with nervous ears and +gleaming eyes, was being held in unwilling subjection close to them. + +"Be ready to mount her when she comes this way, Ralph," Dot whispered, as +the tall figure drew nearer. + +But the honour of mounting Lady Carfax was not for Ralph. A man on +a black mare--a slight man with high cheek-bones and an insolent +bearing--was threading his way towards them through the crowd. The mare, +like the grey, was restive, and her rider swore at her whimsies as he +came. + +Meeting Dot's frank regard, he checked himself and raised his hat with a +courtesy half-instinctive. + +Dot stared, coloured, and very slightly bowed. + +Ralph sniggered. "Let yourself in for it that time, my child! Here comes +Bertie to effect a formal introduction." + +"Bertie won't introduce him," she said quickly. + +Bertie, looking very handsome and stalwart, was already close to them. He +leaned down from the saddle to shake hands. + +"Are you following on foot? I wish I was. Never thought of it till +this moment." + +"I would much rather follow on horseback," Dot declared, looking as if +she did not believe him. + +He laughed. "I'll take you in front of me if you'll come." + +"No. I shouldn't like that," said Dot very decidedly. + +"How can you possibly know till you try?" + +Dot looked up at him with the sunshine in her clear eyes. "How do you +know that you would prefer to follow the hounds on foot? I don't suppose +you ever have." + +"How do I know?" laughed Bertie. "Because I should be in your company, of +course. Isn't that reason enough?" + +"Idiot!" said Dot tersely. + +"Minx!" said Bertie. + +She flushed, looked angry for a moment, and then in spite of herself +dimpled into a smile. "Bertie, you're a beast! Say that again if you +dare!" + +"I daren't," said Bertie. + +"No, I thought not. Now apologise!" + +"Oh, not now! Not in public!" he pleaded. "I'll drop in this evening and +you can shrive me before I go to bed." + +"I shan't be at home," said Dot, with her head in the air. + +"Oh, yes, you will. Anyway, I'm bound to catch you if I wait long +enough." Bertie spoke with cheery assurance. "Hullo! What do you want?" + +His expression altered as his glance fell upon his brother, who had just +come to his side. He looked inclined to scowl. + +But Nap was not apparently desiring an introduction to the rector's +daughter. "Hold the mare a minute, will you?" he said. + +Bertie complied and he swung himself to the ground. + +Lady Carfax was coming towards them and he went to meet her. + +Her grey eyes smiled a friendly welcome. "I was just wondering if you +were here." + +He bowed low. "I am honoured indeed to be in your thoughts for a +single instant." + +"I hope I do not forget my friends so easily," she said. "Oh, here are +some more of them! Excuse me for a moment." + +She went straight to Dot, shook hands with her and her brother, and stood +chatting for a few seconds. + +Nap remained close behind her, and after a little she turned to +Include him in the group. "Have you ever met this Mr. Errol. Dot? Mr. +Errol--Miss Waring!" + +Dot bowed again with a scarlet countenance, but the next instant a +friendly inspiration delivered her from the moment's awkwardness. + +"And you don't know Bertie Errol, do you, Lady Carfax?" she said eagerly. +"Let me introduce him. He studies with Dad, you know." + +"When he isn't hunting, or paper-chasing, or--baking cakes," said Bertie. +"He's such a nice boy, Lady Carfax. He can do almost anything. I'm sure +you'll like him!" + +Dot laughed and protested. "He isn't a bit nice, and he isn't clever +either, though he thinks he is. I don't believe he learns anything with +Dad. They study natural history most of the time." + +"Harmless, anyway!" commented Nap, with a sneer. + +"Yes, quite harmless," assented Bertie, looking straight at him. + +"And very interesting, no doubt," said Lady Carfax, turning towards +her mount. + +Ralph moved to assist her, but Nap pushed before him. "My job, I think," +he drawled, with that in his face which made the English youth draw +sullenly back. + +"Cad!" whispered Dot fiercely. + +And Bertie from his perch above her laughed through clenched teeth. + +In a few minutes more the hunt was off. The whole crowd streamed briskly +away, hounds leading, horses, motors, carriages, and the usual swarm of +pedestrians, following in promiscuous array. + +The sun shone through a mist. The weather was perfect for hunting, but +looked as if it might end in rain. + +Sir Giles rode with the master. He seemed in better spirits than usual. +His customary scowl had lifted. + +His wife rode nearer the end of the procession with Nap Errol next to +her. His brother was immediately behind them, a very decided frown on his +boyish face, a frown of which in some occult fashion Nap must have been +aware, for as they reached a stretch of turf and the crowd widened out, +he turned in the saddle. + +"Get on ahead, Bertie! I can't stand you riding at my heels." + +Bertie looked at him as if he had a retort ready, but he did not utter +it. With tightened lips he rode past and shot ahead. + +Nap smiled a little. "That young puppy is the best of the Errol bunch," +he said. "But he hasn't been licked enough. It's not my fault. It's my +brother's." + +"He looks a nice boy," Anne said. + +Nap's smile became supercilious. "He is a nice boy, Lady Carfax. But nice +boys don't always make nice men, you know. They turn into prigs +sometimes." + +Anne diverted the subject with an instinctive feeling that it was one +upon which they might not agree. + +"There is a considerable difference between you?" she asked. + +"Eight years," said Nap. "I am thirty, Lucas five years older. Most +people take me for the eldest of the lot." + +"I wonder why?" said Anne. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "It is not really surprising, is it? Lucas has +been on the shelf for the past ten years and I"--he glanced at her +shrewdly--"have not!" + +"Oh!" said Anne, and asked no more. + +For the first time the definite question arose in her mind as to whether +in admitting this man to her friendship she had made a mistake. He had a +disquieting effect upon her, she was forced to acknowledge. + +Yet as they drifted apart in the throng she knew with unalterable +conviction that the matter did not rest with her. From the outset the +choice had not been hers. + +He had entered the gates of her lonely citadel on the night of the Hunt +Ball, and though she was by no means sure that she liked him there, she +fully realised that it was too late now to try to bar him out. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FALL + + +They found a fox after some delay in a copse on the side of a hill, and +the run that followed scattered even Anne's sedateness to the winds. +Something of youth, something of girlishness, yet dwelt within her and +bounded to the surface in response to the wild excitement of the chase. + +The grey went like the wind. He and the black mare that Nap Errol rode +led the field, a distinction that Anne had never sought before, and which +she did not greatly appreciate on this occasion. For when they killed in +a chalky hollow, after half-an-hour's furious galloping across country +with scarcely a check, she dragged her animal round with a white, set +face and forced him from the scene. + +Nap followed her after a little and found her fumbling at a gate +into a wood. + +"I've secured the brush for you," he began. Then, seeing her face, "What +is it? You look sick." + +"I feel sick," Anne said shakily. + +He opened the gate for her, and followed her through. They found +themselves alone, separated from the rest of the hunt by a thick +belt of trees. + +"Do you mean to say you have never seen a kill before?" he said. + +"Never at close quarters," murmured Anne, with a shudder. + +He rode for a little in silence. At length, "I'm sorry you didn't like +being in at the death," he said. "I thought you would be pleased." + +"Pleased!" she said, and shuddered again. + +"Personally," said Nap, "I enjoy a kill." + +Anne's face expressed horror. + +"Yes," he said recklessly, "I am like that. I hunt to kill. It is my +nature." A red gleam shone suddenly in his fiery eyes. He looked at her +aggressively. "What do you hunt for anyway?" he demanded. + +"I don't think I shall hunt any more," she said. + +"Oh, nonsense, Lady Carfax! That's being ultrasqueamish," he protested. +"You mustn't, you know. It's bad for you." + +"I can't help it," she said. "I never realised before how cruel it is." + +"Of course it's cruel," said Nap. "But then so is everything, so is life. +Yet you've got to live. We were created to prey on each other." + +"No, no!" she said quickly, for his words hurt her inexplicably. "I take +the higher view." + +"I beg your pardon," said Nap, in the tone of one refusing a discussion. + +She turned to him impulsively. "Surely you do too!" she said, and there +was even a note of pleading in her voice. + +Nap's brows met suddenly. He turned his eyes away. "I am nothing but an +animal," he told her rather brutally. "There is nothing spiritual about +me. I live for what I can get. When I get the chance I gorge. If I have a +soul at all, it is so rudimentary as to be unworthy of mention." + +In the silence that followed he looked at her again with grim +comprehension. "P'r'aps you don't care for animals," he suggested +cynically. "To change the subject, do you know we are leaving the +hunt behind?" + +She reined in somewhat reluctantly. "I suppose we had better go back." + +"If your majesty decrees," said Nap. + +He pulled the mare round and stood motionless, waiting for her to pass. +He sat arrogantly at his ease. She could not fail to note that his +horsemanship was magnificent. The mare stood royally as though she bore +a king. The man's very insignificance of bulk seemed to make him the +more superb. + +"Will you deign to lead the way?" he said. + +And Anne passed him with a vague sense of uneasiness that almost +amounted to foreboding. For it seemed to her as if for those few moments +he had imposed his will upon hers, had without effort overthrown all +barriers of conventional reserve, and had made her acknowledge in him +the mastery of man. + +Rejoining the hunt, she made her first deliberate attempt to avoid him, +an attempt that was so far successful that for the next hour she saw +nothing of him beyond casual glimpses. She did not join her husband, for +he resented her proximity in the hunting-field. + +They drew blank in a wood above the first kill, but finally found after +considerable delay along a stubbly stretch of ground bordering Baronmead, +a large estate that the eldest Errol had just bought. The fox headed +straight for the Baronmead woods and after him streamed the hunt +pell-mell along a stony valley. + +It was not Anne's intention to be in at a second death that day, and she +deliberately checked the grey's enthusiasm when he would have borne her +headlong through the scampering crowd. To his indignation, instead of +pursuing the chase in the valley, she headed him up the hill. He +protested with vehemence, threatening to rebel outright, but Anne was +determined, and eventually she had her way. Up the hill they went. + +It was a scramble to reach the top, for the ground was steep and sloppy, +but on the summit of the ridge progress was easier. She gave the grey the +rein and he carried her forward at a canter. From here she saw the last +of the horsemen below her sweep round the curve towards Baronmead, and +the hubbub growing fainter in the distance told her that the hounds were +already plunging through the woods. Ahead of her the ridge culminated in +a bare knoll whence it was evident that she could overlook a considerable +stretch of country. She urged her animal towards it. + +The mist was thickening in the valley, and it had begun to drizzle. The +watch on her wrist said two o'clock, and she determined to turn her face +homewards as soon as she had taken this final glimpse. + +The grey, snorting and sweating, stumbled up the slippery ascent. He was +plainly disgusted with his rider's tactics. They arrived upon the summit, +and Anne brought him to a standstill. But though she still heard vague +shoutings below her the mist had increased so much in the few minutes +they had taken over the ascent that she could discern nothing. Her horse +was winded after the climb, however, and she remained motionless to give +him time to recover. The hubbub was dying away, and she surmised that the +fox had led his pursuers out on the farther side of the woods. She +shivered as the chill damp crept about her. A feeling of loneliness that +was almost physical possessed her. She half wished that she had not +forsaken the hunt after all. + +Stay! Was she quite alone? Out of the clinging, ever-thickening curtain +there came sounds--the sounds of hoofs that struggled upwards, of an +animal's laboured breathing, of a man's voice that encouraged and swore +alternately. + +Her heart gave a sudden sharp throb. She knew that voice. Though she had +only met the owner thereof three times she had come to know it rather +well. Why had he elected to come that way, she asked herself? He almost +seemed to be dogging her steps that day. + +Impulse urged her to strike in another direction before he reached +her. She did not feel inclined for another _tête-à-tête_ with Nap +Errol just then. + +She tapped the grey smartly with her switch, more smartly than she +intended, for he started and plunged. At the same instant there broke out +immediately below them a hubbub of yelling and baying that was like the +shrieking of a hundred demons. It rose up through the fog as from the +mouth of an invisible pit, and drove the grey horse clean out of his +senses. He reared bolt upright in furious resistance to his rider's will, +pawed the air wildly, and being brought down again by a sharp cut over +the ears, flung out his heels in sheer malice and bolted down the hill, +straight for that pandemonium of men and hounds. If the pleasures of the +hunt failed to attract his mistress, it was otherwise with him, and he +meant to have his fling in spite of her. + +For the first few seconds of that mad flight Anne scarcely attempted to +check his progress. She was taken by surprise and was forced to give all +her attention to keeping in the saddle. + +The pace was terrific. The scampering hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the +ground at all. Like shadows they fled through the rising mist. It struck +chill upon her face as they swooped downwards. She seemed to be plunging +into an icy, bottomless abyss. + +And then like a dagger, stabbing through every nerve, came fear, a +horror unspeakable of the depth she could not see, into which she was +being so furiously hurled. She was clinging to the saddle, but she +made a desperate effort to drag the animal round. It was quite +fruitless. No woman's strength could have availed to check that +headlong gallop. He swerved a little, a very little, in answer, that +was all, and galloped madly on. + +And then--all in a moment it came, a moment of culminating horror more +awful than anything she had ever before experienced--the ground fell +suddenly away from the racing feet. A confusion of many lights danced +before her eyes--a buzzing uproar filled her brain--she shot forward +into space.... + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE RIDE HOME + + +Sir Giles was in a decidedly evil temper as he rode home from the hunt in +the soaking rain that afternoon. The second fox had led them miles out of +the way, and they had not been rewarded by a kill. The brute had eluded +them, profiting by the downpour that had washed away the scent. So Sir +Giles, having solaced himself several times with neat brandy from the +large silver flask without which he never rode abroad, was in anything +but a contented mood with the world in general and his own luck in +particular. Dusk had long descended when at length he turned in at his +own gates. He had given up urging his jaded animal, being too jaded +himself for the effort. But, hearing a clatter of hoofs on the drive +before him, he did rouse himself to holler into the darkness, supposing +that his wife was ahead of him. If it were she, she was later in +returning than was her wont, but no answer came back to him, and he did +not repeat his call. After all, why should he hail her? He did not want +her company, Heaven knew. That stately demeanour of hers which once had +attracted him generally inspired in him a savage sense of resentment +nowadays. There were times when he even suspected her of despising +him--him, the lord of the Manor, who had given her all she possessed in +the world! + +He swore a furious oath under his breath as he rode. The darkness ahead +of him was all pricked by tiny red sparks, that glanced and flashed like +fireflies whichever way he looked. He rubbed his eyes and they departed, +only to swarm again a little farther on. The rain had soaked him to the +skin. He shivered and swore again as he fumbled for his flask. + +The fiery gleams faded wholly away as the raw spirit warmed his blood and +revived his brain. He drew a breath of relief. Again he heard the sound +of a horse's feet some distance in front. They seemed to fall unevenly, +as though the animal were lame. Could it be the grey, he asked himself? +If so, why had Anne not answered his call? She must have heard him. He +ground his teeth. It was like her habitual impudence to ignore him thus. +He gathered himself together and sent a furious bellow into the darkness. + +But there came back no reply. The hoofs ahead seemed to quicken into a +shambling trot, that was all. And after a little he heard them no more. + +She had reached the house then, and gone within into light and comfort, +and again feverishly he execrated her for not waiting for him, the cold +and the rain and the dark notwithstanding. Again fitfully he began to +see those leaping points of light; but it was only here and there. +Whenever he focussed his attention upon them they eluded him. For these +also he held his wife in some fashion responsible. What did she mean by +leaving him thus? How dared she enter the house that was his while he +was still groping without? He believed that she would shut his own door +against him if she dared. He was sure she hated him, as he hated her--as +he hated her! + +And then--suddenly a strange thing happened. Suddenly, clear-cut as a +cameo before his fevered vision, there arose against the dripping +darkness his wife's face. Pale and pure as the face of a saint, it shone +before him like a star. There was no reproach in the level eyes; there +was no contempt. But they looked through him, they looked beyond him, and +saw him not. + +A violent tremor went through him, a nameless, unspeakable dread. The +curses died upon his lips. He stared and stared again. + +And while he stared, the vision faded before his eyes into nothingness. +He was alone once more in the darkness and the drenching rain; alone with +a little gibing voice that seemed to come from within and yet was surely +the voice of a devil jeering a devil's tattoo in time to his horse's +hoof-beats, telling him he was mad, mad, mad! + +Three minutes later he rode heavily into his own stable-yard. + +A group of servants scattered dumbly before him as he appeared. The glare +of lights dazzled him, but he fancied they looked at him strangely. He +flung an oath at the groom who stepped forward to take his horse. + +"What are you staring at? What's the matter?" + +The man murmured something unintelligible. + +Sir Giles dismounted and scowled around. His limbs were stiff and not +over steady. + +"What's the matter with you all?" he growled. "You look like a crowd of +death's heads. Hullo! What's this?" + +He had caught sight of something he had not seen before, something that +sent him striding furiously forward. For there in the centre of the +yard, standing huddled on three legs, was the grey horse his wife had +ridden. Limp and draggled, plastered with mud and foam, with a great +streaming gash on the shoulder, and head hanging down in utter +exhaustion, stood the grey. + +"What's this?" demanded Sir Giles again. "Where's her ladyship?" + +A shudder seemed to run through the assembled men. There was a moment's +silence. Then old Dimsdale, the butler, who was standing in the doorway +that led to the servants' quarters, stumped forward and made reply. + +"The animal's come home alone, Sir Giles." + +"What?" thundered his master. + +The old man faced him with respectful firmness. No one had ever seen +Dimsdale agitated. + +"As I said, Sir Giles," he answered, with a certain deferential +obstinacy. "The animal's come back alone." + +"Only just come in, sir," chimed in a groom. "We was just beginning to +wonder when he came limping in in this state. Looks as if her ladyship +had met with a accident." + +Sir Giles rounded upon him with a violence that brought his surmisings to +an abrupt end. Then, having worked off the first heat of his fury, he +turned again to Dimsdale. + +"What the devil is to be done? I never saw her after the first kill." + +"And where might that be, Sir Giles?" questioned Dimsdale. + +"Up Baronmead way. It was hours ago." + +Dimsdale considered. "Shall we send and make inquiries at Baronmead, +Sir Giles?" + +"No, I'm damned if I do!" said Sir Giles. + +Dimsdale considered again. "Was her ladyship riding with anyone in +particular?" he asked next. + +"No, I don't think so. Stay! I believe I saw that Errol bounder talking +to her--the one who was here the other day. But I forget when. +Anyhow"--his voice rising again--"I won't have any traffic with them. +I've said I won't, and I won't!" + +Dimsdale grunted. "Seems to me the only thing to do, Sir Giles. You can't +leave her lady ship to die under a hedge maybe, and not do anything to +find her." + +He spoke very deliberately, looking straight into his master's bloodshot +eyes as he did so. + +"It wouldn't be hardly right, Sir Giles," he pointed out gravely. "It's +likely that young Mr. Errol will be able to give us a clue, and we can't +leave any stone unturned, being such a serious matter. I'll send on my +own responsibility if you like, Sir Giles. But send we must." + +The bystanders glanced uneasily at one another in the silence that +followed this bold speech. The old butler's temerity was unheard of. Not +one among them would have dared thus to withstand the master to his face. +They waited, nervously expectant, for the vials of wrath to descend. + +Old Dimsdale waited too, still firmly watching Sir Giles. If he felt any +anxiety on his own account, however, it was not apparent. Nor did he +display any relief when the unpleasant tension passed and Sir Giles with +a shrug turned away from him. + +"Oh, go your own way, and be damned to you! I don't care what you do. +Don't stand gaping there, you fools! Get to your work! Better send for +the vet. Can't afford to have a valuable animal spoilt. Dimsdale, take +some brandy and hot water up to my room at once, before you do anything +else. Do you hear?" + +And with that he tramped within, leaving an atmosphere of mingled relief +and indignation behind him. + +But if his words were callous, the soul of the man was far from easy as +he mounted to his room. He flung himself into the nearest chair when he +arrived there and sat with eyes fixed sullenly before him. He ought to go +in search of her, of course, but he was powerless. His brain was a +smouldering furnace in which anxiety and anger strove luridly for the +mastery. But through it all he sat there torpidly staring. His body felt +as though it were weighted with leaden fetters. + +He heard a step in the passage, but did not turn his head. Someone +knocked discreetly. He heard, but he took no notice. The door opened +softly, and old Dimsdale entered. + +"We have news, Sir Giles." + +Sir Giles neither looked at him nor spoke. He continued to glare heavily +into space. + +Dimsdale paused beside him. "A messenger has just come from Baronmead in +their motor, Sir Giles," he said, speaking very distinctly. "Her ladyship +has had a fall, and has been taken there. Mr. Errol begs that you will go +back in the motor, as her ladyship's condition is considered serious." + +He stopped. Sir Giles said nothing whatever. + +"The messenger is waiting, Sir Giles." + +Still no response of any sort. + +Dimsdale waited a moment, then very respectfully he bent and touched his +master's shoulder. + +"Sir Giles!" + +Sir Giles turned slowly at last, with immense effort it seemed. He +glowered at Dimsdale for a space. Then, "Bring some brandy and water," he +said, "hot!" + +"But the messenger, Sir Giles!" + +"What?" Sir Giles glared a moment longer, then as anger came uppermost, +the smouldering furnace leapt into sudden seething flame. "Tell him to go +to the devil!" he thundered. "And when you've done that, bring me some +brandy and water--hot!" + +As Dimsdale departed upon his double errand he dropped back into his +former position, staring dully before him, under scowling brows. + +When Dimsdale returned he was sunk in the chair asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE + + +"Hullo, Lucas! Can I come in?" + +Nap Errol stood outside his brother's door, an impatient frown on his +face, his hand already fidgeting at the handle. + +"Come in, old chap," drawled back a kindly voice. + +He entered with an abruptness that seemed to denote agitation. + +The room was large and brilliantly lighted. In an easy chair by the fire +the eldest Errol was reclining, while his valet, a huge man with the +features of an American Indian half-breed and fiery red hair, put the +finishing touches to his evening dress. + +Nap approached the fire with his usual noiseless tread despite the fact +that he was still in riding boots. + +"Be quick, Hudson!" he said. "We don't want you." + +Hudson rolled a nervous eye at him and became clumsily hasty. + +"Take your time," his master said quietly. "Nap, my friend, hadn't you +better dress?" + +Nap stopped before the fire and pushed it with his foot. "I am not going +to dine," he said. + +Lucas Errol said no more. He lay still in his chair with his head back +and eyes half-closed, a passive, pathetic figure with the shoulders of a +strong man and the weak, shrunken limbs of a cripple. His face was quite +smooth. It might have belonged to a boy of seventeen save for the eyes, +which were deeply sunken and possessed the shrewd, quizzical +intelligence of age. + +He lay quite motionless as though he were accustomed to remain for hours +in one position. Hudson the valet tended him with the reverence of a +slave. Nap fell to pacing soundlessly to and fro, awaiting the man's exit +with what patience he could muster. + +"You can go now, Tawny," the elder Errol drawled at last. "I will ring +when I want you. Now, Boney, what is it? I wish you would sit down." + +There was no impatience in the words, but his brows were slightly drawn +as he uttered them, + +Nap, turning swiftly, noted the fact. "You are not so well to-night?" + +"Sit down," his brother repeated gently. "How is Lady Carfax?" + +Nap sat down with some reluctance. He looked as if he would have +preferred to prowl. + +"She is still unconscious, and likely to remain so. The doctor thinks +very seriously of her." + +"Her husband has been informed?" + +"Her husband," said Nap from between his teeth, "has been informed, and +he declines to come to her. That's the sort of brute he is." + +Lucas Errol made no comment, and after a moment Nap continued: + +"It is just as well perhaps. I hear he is never sober after a day's +sport. And I believe she hates the sight of him if the truth were +told--and small wonder!" + +There was unrestrained savagery in the last words. Lucas turned his head +and looked at him thoughtfully. + +"You know her rather well?" he said. + +"Yes." Nap's eyes, glowing redly, met his with a gleam of defiance. + +"You have known her for long?" The question was perfectly quiet, uttered +in the tired voice habitual to this man who had been an invalid for +almost the whole of his manhood. + +Yet Nap frowned as he heard it. "I don't know," he said curtly. "I don't +estimate friendships by time." + +Lucas said no more, but he continued to look at his brother with +unvarying steadiness till at length, as if goaded thereto, Nap +spoke again. + +"We are friends," he said, "no more, no less. You all think me a +blackguard, I know. It's my speciality, isn't it?" He spoke with +exceeding bitterness. "But in this case you are wrong. I repeat--we +are friends." + +He said it aggressively; his tone was almost a challenge, but the elder +Errol did not appear to notice. + +"I have never thought you a blackguard, Boney," he said quietly. + +Nap's thin lips smiled cynically. "You have never said it." + +"I have never thought it." There was no contradicting the calm assertion. +It was not the way of the world to contradict Lucas Errol. "And I know +you better than a good many," he said. + +Nap stirred restlessly and was silent. + +Lucas turned his eyes from him and seemed to fall into a reverie. +Suddenly, however, he roused himself. + +"What does the doctor say about her?" + +Nap frowned. "He says very little. After the manner of his tribe, he is +afraid to commit himself; thinks there may be this injury or there may be +that, but says definitely nothing. I shall get someone down from town +to-morrow. I'd go tonight, only--" he broke off, hammering impotently +with his clenched fist on the arm of his chair. "I must be at hand +to-night," he said, after a moment, controlling himself. "The mater has +promised to call me if there is any change. You see," he spoke +half-apologetically, "she might feel kind of lonely waking up in a crowd +of strangers, and mine is the only face she knows." + +Silence followed the words. Lucas had closed his eyes, and there was +nothing in his face to indicate the trend of his thoughts. + +Nap sat with his face to the fire, and stared unblinkingly into the red +depths. There was no repose in his attitude, only the tension of +suppressed activity. + +Softly at length his brother's voice came through the silence. "Why not +dine, dear fellow, while you are waiting? You will do no good to anyone +by starving yourself." + +Nap looked round. "In Heaven's name, don't talk to me of eating!" he +said savagely. "You don't know what I've been through." Again he paused +to control himself, then added in a lower tone, "I thought she was dead, +you know." + +"It was you who picked her up?" Lucas asked. + +"Yes. There was no one else near." He spoke with feverish rapidity, as +though he found speaking a relief. "It was the old chalk-pit. You know +the place--or p'r'aps you don't. It's a ten-foot drop. The brute went +clean over, and he must have rolled on her or kicked her getting up." He +drew a sharp breath between his teeth. "When I found her she was lying +all crumpled up. I thought her back was broken at first." + +A sudden shudder assailed him. He repressed it fiercely. + +"And then, you know, it was foggy. I couldn't leave her. I was +afraid of losing my bearings. And so I just had to wait--Heaven +knows how long--till one of the keepers heard me shouting, and went +for help. And all that time--all that time--I didn't know whether +she was alive or dead." + +His voice sank to a hard whisper. He got up and vigorously poked the +fire. + +Lucas Errol endured the clatter for several seconds in silence: +then, "Boney," he said, "since you are feeling energetic, you might +lend me a hand." + +Nap laid down the poker instantly. "I am sorry, old fellow. I forgot. Let +me ring for Hudson." + +"Can't you help me yourself?" Lucas asked. + +Nap hesitated for a second; then stooped in silence to give the required +assistance. Lucas Errol, with a set face, accepted it, but once on his +feet he quitted Nap's support and leaned upon the mantelpiece to wipe +his forehead. + +"I knew I should hurt you," Nap said uneasily. + +The millionaire forced a smile that was twisted in spite of him. "Never +mind me!" he said. "It is your affairs that trouble me just now, not my +own. And, Boney, if you don't have a meal soon, you'll be making a big +fool of yourself and everyone will know it." + +The very gentleness of his speech seemed to make the words the more +emphatic. Nap raised no further protest. + +"Go and have it right now," his brother said. + +"And--in case I don't see you again--goodnight!" + +He held out his hand, still leaning against the mantelpiece. His eyes, +blue and very steady, looked straight into Nap's. So for a second or +two he held him while Nap, tight-lipped, uncompromising, looked +straight back. + +Then, "Good-night," Lucas said again gravely, and let him go. + +Yet for an instant longer Nap lingered as one on the verge of speech. But +nothing came of it. He apparently thought better--or worse--of the +impulse, and departed light-footed in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE HAND OF A FRIEND + + +What had happened to her? Slowly, with a sensation of doubt that seemed +to weigh her down, Anne rose to the surface of things, and looked once +more upon the world that had rushed so giddily away from her and left her +spinning through space. + +She was horribly afraid during those first few minutes, afraid with a +physical, overwhelming dread. She seemed to be yet falling, falling +through emptiness to annihilation. And as she fell she caught the sounds +of other worlds, vague whisperings in the dark. She was sinking, sinking +fast into a depth unfathomable, where no worlds were. + +And then--how it came to her she knew not, for she was powerless to help +herself--out of the chaos and the awful darkness a hand reached out and +grasped her own; a hand strong and vital that gripped and held, that +lifted her up, that guided her, that sustained her, through all the +terror that girt her round. + +The light dawned gradually in her eyes. She found herself gazing up into +a face she knew, a lean, brown face, alert and keen, that watched her +steadfastly. + +With an effort she clasped her nerveless fingers upon the +sustaining hand. + +"Hold me!" she whispered weakly. "I'm falling!" + +"Don't be afraid!" he made answer with infinite gentleness. "I have +you safe." + +Someone whom she saw but vaguely came behind him and whispered in a +vigorous undertone. A large white hand, on which flashed many rings, +rested upon his shoulder. + +He moved slightly, took something into his free hand and held it to her +lips. Submissively, in answer to an influence that seemed to fold her +about and gently to compel, she drank. + +Slowly the mist of dread cleared from her brain. Slowly she awoke to full +consciousness, and found Nap Errol bending over her, her hand fast +clasped in his. + +"What happened?" she asked him faintly. "Where am I?" + +"You are at Baronmead," he said. "You were thrown and we brought +you here." + +"Ah!" Her brows contracted a little. "Am I much hurt?" she asked. + +"Nothing to worry about," Nap said with quiet confidence. "You will soon +be all right again. I will leave you to get a good sleep, shall I? If +you are wanting anything my mother will be here." + +She looked at him doubtfully. Her hand still clung to his, +half-mechanically it seemed. + +"Mr. Errol," she faltered, "my husband--does he know?" + +"Yes, he knows." Very softly Nap made answer, as though he were soothing +a child. "Don't trouble about that. Don't trouble about anything. Just +lie still and rest." + +But the anxiety in her eyes was growing. "He isn't here?" she questioned. + +"No." + +"Then--then I think I ought to go to him. He will think it so strange. He +will--he will--" + +"Lady Carfax, listen!" Quietly but insistently he broke in upon her +rising agitation. "Your husband knows all about you. He couldn't come +to-night, but he is coming in the morning. Now won't you be content and +try to sleep?" + +"I can't sleep," she said, with a shudder. "I am afraid of falling." + +"No, you're not. See! I am holding your hands. You can't fall. Look at +me! Keep looking at me and you will see how safe you are!" + +His voice had sunk almost to a whisper. His eyes dusky, compelling, yet +strangely impersonal, held hers by some magic that was too utterly +intangible to frighten her. With a sigh she yielded to the mastery she +scarcely felt. + +And as she floated away into a peace indescribable, unlike anything +she had ever known before, she heard a woman's voice, hushed to a +sibilant whisper, remark, "My, Nap! You're too smart to be human. I +always said so." + +When she opened her eyes again it was many hours later, and she was lying +in the broad sunshine with the doctor, whom she knew, stooping over her. + +"Ah, you are awake at last!" he said. "And I find a marvellous +improvement. No, I shouldn't try to move at present. But I don't suppose +you can for a moment. You have had a wonderful escape, my dear lady, a +most wonderful escape. But for all that I shall keep you where you are +for the next fortnight or so. A badly jarred spine is not a thing to +play with." + +"Is that all?" Anne asked. + +He became cautious on the instant. "I don't say that is all. In any case +we will run no risks. Let me congratulate you upon having fallen into +such good hands." + +He glanced over Anne's head at someone on the other side of the bed, and +Anne turned slightly to see the person thus indicated. And so she had her +first sight of the woman who ruled Lucas Errol's house. + +She had heard of her more than once. People smiled, not unkindly, when +they mentioned Mrs. Errol, a good sort, they said; but, like many another +woman of inelegant exterior, how good a sort only her Maker knew. She was +large in every way. It was the only word that described her; +large-boned, large-featured, and so stout that she wheezed--a fact which +in no way limited her activity. Her voice was as deep as a man's, and it +went even deeper when she laughed. + +But she was not laughing now. Her face was full of the most kindly +concern. "Lord bless the child!" she said. "She don't know me yet. +I'm Mrs. Errol, dear, Mrs. Lucas Blenheim Errol. And if there's +anything you want--well, you've only got to mention it to me and it's +as good as done." + +She spoke with a strong American accent. A Yankee of the Yankees was Mrs. +Errol, and she saw no reason to disguise the fact. She knew that people +smiled at her, but it made no difference to her. She was content to let +them smile. She even smiled at herself. + +"You are very good," Anne murmured. + +"Not a bit," said Mrs. Errol cheerfully. "I'm real pleased to have you, +dear. And don't you think you're giving any trouble to anybody, for there +isn't anything that pleases me so much as to have a girl to look after. +It's the biggest treat the Lord could send." + +Anne smiled a little, conscious of a glow at the heart that she had not +known for many a day. She tried weakly to give her hand to her new +friend, but the pain of moving was so intense that she uttered a quick +gasp and abandoned the attempt. + +But in an instant Mrs. Errol's fingers were wound closely about her own, +the large face, wonderfully smooth, save for a few kindly wrinkles about +the eyes, was bent to hers. + +"There, dearie, there!" said the motherly voice, tender for all its +gruffness. "You're stiff in every limb, and no wonder. It's just natural. +Just you lie still and leave everything to me." + +She was, in fact, determined to take the whole burden of nursing upon +herself, and when the doctor had gone she began to show Anne how capable +she was of fulfilling the responsibility she had thus undertaken. No +trained nurse could have given her more dexterous attention. + +"I've spent a great part of my life in sickrooms," she told Anne. "First +my husband, and then poor Lucas, that's my eldest boy. But Lucas won't +have me to wait on him now. He doesn't like his mother to see him in his +bad hours, and they are mighty bad now and then. So my nursing talents +would run to seed if it weren't for a casual patient like yourself." + +It was so evident that she enjoyed her self-appointed task that Anne +could only smile and thank her. She was helpless as an infant and could +not have refused her hostess's ministrations even had she desired to do +so. She suffered a good deal of pain also, and this kept her from taking +much note of her surroundings during that first day at Baronmead. + +She refrained from asking further about her husband for some time, +avoiding all mention of him, but she was possessed by a nervous dread +that increased steadily as the hours wore on. At last, as Mrs. Errol +seemed equally determined to volunteer no information, she summoned her +resolution and compelled herself to speak. + +"My husband has not come yet?" she asked. + +"No, dear." Mrs. Errol smiled upon her with much kindness, but her tone +did not encourage further inquiries. + +Anne lay silent for a little. It was a difficult matter to handle. +"Did he send no message?" she asked at last, with knitted brows. "I +thought--or did I dream it?--that your son said he was coming." + +"To be sure he did," said Mrs. Errol. "You would like to speak to Nap +about it, wouldn't you?" + +Anne hesitated. Mrs. Errol was already on her way to the door. It was +plain that here was a responsibility she was unprepared to shoulder. But +Anne called her back. + +"No, please!" she said, a slight flush on her face. "Don't call him in +again! Really, it is of no consequence." + +But in spite of this assertion her uneasiness regarding her husband grew +rapidly from that moment--an uneasiness that she was powerless to control +or hide. Could it be--was it possible?--that he meant to leave her thus +abandoned to the pitying kindness of strangers? She could hardly believe +it. And yet--and yet--he had done un-heard-of things before. There were +times, times that had become more and more frequent of late, when she +doubted his sanity. Those devilish moods of his, whither were they +tending? Was he in the grip of one of them now? And if so--if so--what +would happen to her? What could she do? + +As the hours passed, the torture of suspense so worked upon her that +she began to grow feverish. The afternoon was waning and still no +word had come. + +She tried to reassure herself again and again, but each failure added to +her distress. + +"You mustn't fret, child," said Mrs. Errol gently, when she brought her +tea. "It's the worst thing possible. Come, come! What is it?" + +Anne tried to tell her, but could not. The very utterance of her +fears was more than she could accomplish in her present state. Words +failed her. + +Mrs. Errol said no more, but presently she went quietly away, leaving her +alone in the firelight, chafing but impotent. + +She was soon back again, however, and a muffled word on the threshold +told Anne that she was not alone. She turned her head sharply on the +pillow regardless of wrenched muscles, hoping against hope. But she +looked in vain for her husband's tall figure, and a sigh that was almost +a groan escaped her. It was Nap, slim, upright, and noiseless, who +stepped from behind Mrs. Errol and came to her bedside. + +He stooped a little and took her quivering hand, holding it in both his +own so that his fingers pressed upon her pulse. + +"The mater thought you would like to speak to me," he said. + +She looked up at him with eyes of piteous entreaty. She was long past any +thought of expediency so far as he was concerned. It seemed only natural +in her trouble to turn to him for help. Had he not helped her before? +Besides, she knew that he understood things that she could not utter. + +"Oh, Nap," she said admitting him unconsciously in her extremity to an +intimacy she would never have dreamed of according him in any less urgent +circumstances, "I am greatly troubled about my husband. You said he would +come to me, but--he hasn't come!" + +"I know he hasn't," Nap said. He spoke quietly, but she was aware of a +certain grimness in his speech. "I shouldn't worry if I were you. It +won't help you any. Is there anyone else you would like sent for?" + +"I have--no one else," she said, her voice quivering beyond her control. +"How can I lie here and not worry?" + +"Lord bless the child!" said Mrs. Errol vigorously. "What is there to +worry about, anyway?" + +But Nap was silent. His fingers were still closed firmly upon her wrist. + +"Mrs. Errol is very good," Anne said earnestly. "You mustn't think me +ungrateful or unappreciative. But I cannot go on like this. I cannot!" + +"I am afraid you have no choice," Nap said. + +She scarcely heard him. At least she paid no heed. "Will you tell me +exactly what has passed? Has he definitely refused to come to me? +Because, if so--" + +"If so--" said Nap gently. + +She summoned her wavering self-control. "If so--I must go back to him at +once. I must indeed. You will manage it for me, will you not? Perhaps you +will take me yourself in the motor." + +"No," said Nap. He spoke briefly, even sternly. He was bending down over +her, and she caught the gleam of the firelight in his eyes and thought +that they shone red. "I would do a good deal for you, Lady Carfax," he +said, "but I can't do that. You ask the impossible." He paused a moment +and she felt his grasp slowly tighten upon her hand. "You want to know +what passed, and perhaps it is better that you should know even if it +distresses you. I sent a messenger in the motor to Sir Giles last night +to tell him of your accident and to beg him to return here with him. He +came back alone with no definite reply. He did not, in fact, see Sir +Giles, though the message was delivered. I waited till noon today to see +if he would come, and then as there was no sign of him I went myself in +the motor to fetch him." + +"Ah!" Anne's lips parted to utter the word. They were quivering +uncontrollably. + +"I saw him," Nap went on very quietly. "I practically forced an entrance. +He was in his study alone. I fancy he was feeling sick, but I didn't stop +to inquire. I told him you were wanting him. I was quite kind to him--for +your sake." She fancied the grim lips smiled. "But I regret to say he +didn't appreciate my kindness, and I soon saw that he was in no state to +come to you even if he would. So--I left him and came away." + +"Ah!" Again that faint exclamation that was like the half-uttered cry of +a woman's heart. "He wasn't--wasn't rude to you, I hope?" + +Nap's teeth showed for an instant. He made no reply. + +"Mr. Errol," she said beseechingly, "please tell me everything! He did +not--did not--" + +"Kick me?" questioned Nap drily. "My dear lady, no man may kick Nap Errol +and live. So I did not give him the opportunity." + +She uttered a quick sob and turned her head upon the pillow. The tears +were running down her face. + +The hand that pressed her wrist began to rub it very gently. "That's +the worst of telling the truth," Nap said softly. "It is sure to +hurt someone." + +"I am glad you told me," she whispered back, "though I don't know what to +say to you--how to atone--" + +"I will tell you then," he answered swiftly. "Stay quietly here and be +as happy as you can till the doctor gives you leave to go back. You will +have to do it in any case, but--if you feel you owe me anything, which of +course you don't"--he smiled again, and his smile when free from cynicism +held a wonderful charm--"do it willingly--please do it willingly!" + +She could not answer him in words, but her fingers closed upon his. +Instantly she felt his answering pressure. A moment later he laid her +hand down very gently and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STING OF A SCORPION + + +"Oh, dear, I wish it wasn't so muddy." Dot, emerging from old Squinny's +cottage, stood a moment on the edge of the large puddle that was old +Squinny's garden and gazed over the ploughed fields beyond towards the +sinking sun. It was the last day in January, and the winter dusk was +already creeping up in a curtain of damp mist that veiled everything it +touched. She knew it would be dark long before she got home, and the +prospect of sliding about in the muddy lanes did not attract her. + +"You were an idiot not to bring a lantern," she told herself severely, +as she skirted the edge of the puddle. "You might have known--but you +never think!" + +Here she reached the garden-gate and lifted it scientifically off its +hinges and then back again when she had passed through. Old Squinny's +gate had not opened in the ordinary way within the memory of man. It was +stoutly bound to the gate-post by several twists of rusty chain. + +A stretch of waste land lay beyond the cottage garden; then came the +road and then the fields, brown and undulating in the ruddy western glow. +For a second or two Dot considered the homeward path that lay across the +fields. She had come by that earlier in the afternoon, and she knew +exactly what it had to offer besides the advantage of cutting half a mile +from a three-mile trudge. But her knowledge eventually decided her in +favour of the road. + +"Besides," as she optimistically remarked to herself, "someone might pass +and give me a lift." + +For Dot was not above being seen in a waggon or a tradesman's cart. +She accepted as she was prone to give, promiscuously and with +absolute freedom. + +But it was no tradesman's cart that the gods had in store for her that +day. Rather was it a chariot of their own that presently swooped as if +upon wings swiftly and smoothly down upon the Sturdy wayfarer. Dot +herself was scarcely aware of its approach before it had passed and come +to a standstill barely half a dozen yards from her. + +"Hullo!" cried a boyish voice. "This is luck! Jump in! I'll soon trundle +you home." + +It was Bertie leaning out from the wheel on which his hands rested. In +the open seat behind him, propped by cushions, sat a man whom she knew +instantly though she had never met him before. He looked at her as she +came up to the car with blue eyes as frank and kind as Bertie's, though +not so merry. It was not difficult to see that they were brothers. + +"My brother Lucas," said Bertie, "the one you wanted to know." + +He smiled as he said it for the sheer malicious pleasure of seeing her +blush. And Dot's green-brown eyes shot him a glance of quick indignation. + +But Lucas Errol stepped calmly into the breach. "This young brother of +mine has a way of turning things topsy-turvy," he said in his easy drawl. +"We just make allowances for him when we can, and kick him when we can't. +It is I who have wanted to know you, Miss Waring--it is Miss Waring, I +think?--for some time past. Won't you get in beside me and give me the +pleasure of making your acquaintance?" + +He pulled off his glove and offered her his hand. + +Dot instantly took it, but when he would have helped her in she drew +back. "I had better not, really. Look at my boots!" + +"Jump in!" urged Bertie. "Who cares?" + +He sprang suddenly down and seized her impulsively by the waist. In +another second he would have bundled her in without ceremony, but +quietly, with no change of countenance, his brother intervened. + +"Bertie, behave yourself! Miss Waring, I beg you will do exactly as you +like, but please believe that the state of your boots doesn't matter a +cent. I should say the same with absolute honesty if I had to clean the +car myself." + +"I am quite sure I shouldn't in your place," said Dot as she climbed +into the car. + +Lucas smiled and fished out a spare rug. "Put it round your shoulders and +fold it well over. You will find it cold when we begin to move. Are your +feet quite warm? There is a foot-warmer here. Tuck her in well, Bertie. +That's the way." + +"You will never get out again," laughed Bertie, as he shut the door upon +her. "Now, where are we going? To Baronmead?" + +His merry eyes besought her for an instant; then, as she began to shake +her head, "Can't you persuade her, Luke?" he said. + +"I think so," Lucas answered. "Drive on slowly while I try. You know +there is a friend of yours there, Miss Waring?" + +"Lady Carfax?" said Dot quickly. + +He bent his head. "I think she would like you to visit her. She has so +few friends." + +"I would love to, of course," Dot said impetuously. "But--you know, I've +never visited her before, though I have often longed to. People don't +call at the Manor. Not even Dad goes there. And in any case, I am hardly +grown up enough to pay calls. Wouldn't she--are you sure she wouldn't +think it very presumptuous of me to go and see her?" + +"That is the last thing I should expect from her," Lucas answered, with +quiet conviction. + +"She is very proud," Dot began. + +"She is very miserable," he said. + +Dot's eyes softened. "Oh, poor Lady Carfax!" she said. "So you know +that, too!" + +"I have seen her only twice," he said. "Yes, I know it." + +Dot's eyes widened. "Only twice! Why, surely it must be three weeks +nearly since her accident." + +"I believe it is. But it was serious, you know, and she has made a very +slow recovery. The doctor has only just allowed her to be removed to +another room." + +"Poor Lady Carfax!" Dot said again. "Yes, I'll come. I know Dad +wouldn't mind!" + +So Bertie had his desire and turned the motor with a light heart towards +Baronmead. He sang as he drove, sang at the top of his voice; for he was +in a happy mood that evening. + +And Dot was happy too, though a little nervous. She had often longed to +go to Baronmead, and she was already thoroughly at her ease with the +master thereof, who sat and conversed beside her in that rather +monotonous, tired drawl of his. It was only the thought of Anne that made +her nervous. Warmly as she admired her, she was ever so slightly afraid +of the stately lady of the Manor, who made friends with so few and for +all her queenly graciousness kept those she had at so discreet a +distance. Of course everyone knew why. The reason was plain to all who +had eyes to see. But that fact did not help any to overstep the barrier, +nor did it keep the majority from being affronted. Dot was not of the +latter, but she was ever shy in Anne's presence, though it was more the +fear of hurting than of being hurt that made her so. + +She enjoyed the brisk run to Baronmead with all her healthy soul. As they +sped up the long drive they were joined by a galloping horseman, who +shouted to Bertie to put on speed and flogged his animal furiously when +the car drew ahead. He looked like a demon to Dot in the half-light--a +black imp mounted on a black mare riding to perdition. She was glad to +leave him behind. + +But as they drew up before the great house that loomed gaunt and eerie in +the gathering darkness the galloping hoofs drew near again, and before +they were out of the car Nap was beside them. + +He flung himself out of the saddle, with a curt, "Here, Bertie! Take the +brute for me. Mind her teeth! She's in a vile temper." + +"What a beast you are!" was Bertie's comment, as he went to the +panting animal. + +The valet, Hudson, was waiting to help his master out of the car, but Nap +pushed him imperiously aside. His quick, lithe movements fascinated Dot. +She stood and watched him as he dexterously assisted the heavy, misshapen +figure of his brother to alight. He was wonderfully strong for so slight +a man. He seemed compacted of muscle and energy, welded together with a +certain fiery grace that made him in some fashion remarkable. He was +utterly different from any other man she had ever seen. + +"Will you go first, Miss Waring?" It was Lucas Errol's voice. He leaned +on his brother's shoulder, waiting for her. + +Nap glanced round at her. She saw his ironical smile for an instant. +"Miss Waring prefers to wait for Bertie, perhaps," he remarked. + +The words stung her, she scarcely knew why, and what had been a +half-reluctant prejudice before turned to sudden hot antagonism in Dot's +heart. She hated Nap Errol from that moment. + +But Lucas laid a quiet hand on her arm, and her resentment died. + +"I think Miss Waring was waiting for me," he said. "Will you let me lean +on you, Miss Waring? Steps are always a difficulty to me." + +"Of course," she said eagerly. "Do lean hard!" + +It occurred to her afterwards that the valet's assistance would have been +more effectual than hers, and at the top of the steps she glanced back at +him. He was immediately behind them, laden with some things he had taken +from the car. His eyes, as he ascended, were fixed upon Nap, and a +curious little thrill of sympathy ran through Dot as she realised that +she was not the only person who hated him. + +As they passed into the great entrance-hall Bertie came springing up +behind them. "I say, can't we have tea here before you go up to see Lady +Carfax? It's the cosiest place in the whole house." + +A huge fire burned on an open hearth, about which a deep lounge and +several easy-chairs were arrayed. + +"That will be O.K.," said Lucas. "Fix me up on the settee, Nap." + +"You had better go and rest in your room," said Nap. "Bertie and Miss +Waring are accustomed to entertaining each other." + +Again Dot felt the sting--this time a tangible one--in his words. He was +evidently in a stinging mood. + +She drew back quickly. "I would rather go straight up to Lady Carfax +if I may." + +"Oh, I say, don't!" thrust in Bertie with a quick frown. "Lucas, you'll +stay, won't you, and have tea with us here?" + +"That is my intention," said Lucas, "if Miss Waring will give us the +pleasure of her company." + +And Dot, though she longed to escape, went forward with him into the glow +of the firelight. + +She hoped earnestly that Nap would depart, but for some reason Nap was +minded to remain. He settled his brother on the cushions and then flung +himself into a chair on the other side of the fire. Dot was aware without +looking at him that he had her under observation; she felt the scrutiny +she could not see, and knew it was malevolent. + +Bertie evidently knew it too, for he was scowling savagely in a fashion +quite unfamiliar to her. He placed a chair for her close to Lucas. + +"I guess we must ask you to do the honours, Miss Waring," the latter +said. "My mother must be with Lady Carfax." + +"Here's an opportunity for Miss Waring to display her charms!" gibed Nap. +"But doubtless Bertie has been initiated in the arts and wiles of +tea-making long before this. It's a bewitching performance, eh, Bertie?" + +Bertie growled something unintelligible and turned his back. + +"Give him plenty of sugar, Miss Waring," recommended Nap. "He's +remarkably guileless. With a little patience and subtlety on your part +he'll soon come and feed out of your hand. After that, a little feminine +persuasion is all that is required to entice the pretty bird into the +cage. He's quite a fine specimen; such a lot of gold about him, too! It +would be a pity to let him escape. There are not many of his sort, I +assure you." + +The drawling insolence of the words made Dot quiver all over. She knew by +Bertie's rigidity of pose that he was furious too, but she did not dare +to look at him. She tried to attend to some remark that Lucas made to +her, but she only answered at random. She could not take in what he said. + +Perhaps he saw her perturbation, for after a moment he turned from her to +Nap and very deliberately engaged him in conversation, while Bertie, +very pale but quite collected, sat down by her and began to talk also. + +She did her best to second his efforts, but with Nap's eyes openly +mocking her from the other side of the hearth, she found it impossible to +divert her thoughts. + +So they thought that of her, did they? They thought--that! She felt as if +she had been publicly weighed in the balances and found wanting. She told +herself passionately that she would never, as long as she lived, speak to +Nap Errol again. Everyone said he was a bounder, and everyone was right. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +BROTHERS + + +"Come right in!" said Mrs. Errol. "Anne, my dear, here is little Miss +Waring come to see you. I'm real pleased to meet you, child. I've watched +you in church many a time when I ought to have been saying my prayers, +and so has someone else I know." + +Dot's cheeks were scarlet as she came forward to Anne's couch. She was +still telling herself with fierce emphasis that never, never again would +she voluntarily venture herself within the walls of Baronmead. + +But when Anne stretched out a hand to her and smiled, all her +perturbation vanished at a breath. She went impulsively forward and knelt +down by her side. For some reason she did not feel her customary awe of +the lady of the Manor. This sad-faced woman with the deeply shadowed eyes +aroused within her something that was stronger, something that carried +her completely out of herself. + +"Oh, are you better?" she said. "I have been so sorry about you." + +"It was good of you to come up to see me," Anne said gently. "Yes, Dot, +I am better. I am allowed to walk again, and I am going home to-morrow." + +"Not if I know it," said Mrs. Errol stoutly. "Or if you do, I go too, to +take care of you." + +Anne smiled at her without replying. "Sit down, Dot," she said, "and tell +me all the news. I know you hear everything." + +"But nothing has happened," said Dot. "Everybody is squabbling as usual +about the Town Hall, why we want one, why there isn't one, and when we +are going to have one. Really, there's nothing else." + +"My dear," said Mrs. Errol, "everybody wants a sound spanking, and I +should like to administer it. Every township ought to have a public +building, and there's my son Lucas wanting nothing so much as to build +one and they won't let him." + +"I am afraid my husband is the main obstacle," said Anne. + +"Then I guess we won't discuss it," said Mrs. Errol firmly. "Who's that +scratching at the door?" + +It was Bertie, as Anne knew on the instant by Dot's face. "Do ask him to +come in," she said kindly. + +Bertie came in as one not wholly sure of his welcome, and took up a +position in the background. And there during the remainder of Dot's +visit he stayed, scarcely speaking, and so sternly preoccupied that +Dot's embarrassment returned upon her overwhelmingly, and she very soon +rose to go. + +He stepped forward then and followed her out. "I am going to motor you +home," he said, as he escorted her down the stairs. + +Dot nearly stopped short in consternation. "Oh, no, really! I'm going +home alone. It's no distance, and I know my way perfectly." + +"I'm coming with you," he said doggedly. + +But the memory of those eyes that had mocked her across the hall still +burned in the girl's heart. She faced him resolutely; + +"You are not to, Bertie. I don't wish it." + +"I can't help it," said Bertie. "I am coming." + +At this point they arrived in the hall, and here she found Lucas Errol +waiting to say good-bye to her. + +She turned to him with desperate appeal. "Mr. Errol, please don't let +Bertie see me home. I--I would so much rather go alone." + +She was almost crying as she said it, and Lucas looked at Bertie with +most unaccustomed sharpness. + +"It's all right," the boy made answer. "We haven't quarrelled yet." + +The last word sounded ominous, and with her hand in Lucas's quiet grasp, +Dot shivered. + +"But I'm sure we are going to," she said. "And I do so hate quarrelling. +Do, please, let me run home alone. I'm not a bit afraid." + +Lucas began to smile. "I think it's rather hard on Bertie," he said. +"However--" + +"I must go, Lucas," Bertie said quickly. "You don't understand. There is +something I want to explain." + +But Lucas leaned a hand upon his shoulder. "Let it keep, dear fellow. +There is always tomorrow!" + +"No, never, never, never!" whispered Dot to her turbulent heart. + +Yet when a moment later Bertie came forward, and silently, without +looking at her, held open the door, a wild regret surged fiercely +through her, and for that second she almost wished that she had let him +go with her. + +And then again there came to her that hateful whisper--that taunting, +intolerable sneer; and she fled without a backward glance. + +Bertie closed the great door very quietly, and turned back into the hall. + +"Where is Nap?" + +"Come here, Bertie," Lucas said. + +He went unwillingly. "Where is Nap?" he said again. + +Lucas, supporting himself on one side with a crutch, stood by the fire +and waited for him. + +As Bertie drew near he took him gently by the shoulder. "May I know what +you were going to say to Miss Waring just now?" he asked. + +Bertie threw back his head. "I was going to ask her to overlook that +cad's vile insinuations--and marry me." + +"And that was the very thing she didn't want you to do," Lucas said. + +"I can't help it." There was a stubborn note in Bertie's voice. "She +shan't think I'm a blackguard like Nap." + +"We will leave Nap out of it," Lucas said quietly. + +"Why?" demanded Bertie hotly. "He was responsible. He insulted a guest +under your roof. Are you going to put up with that? Because I'm not!" + +"My dear fellow, it is I, not you, who must deal with that." + +Bertie stamped furiously. "That's all very well, but--dash it, Lucas, +you're always holding me back. And I can't knock under to you in this. +I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm going to have it out with Nap. Whatever you +may say, it is more my business than yours." + +He would have flung round with the words, but his brother's hand was +still upon him, restraining him. + +He paused, chafing. "You must let me go. I shall hurt you if you don't." + +"You will hurt me if I do, boy," Lucas made grave reply. + +"I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't help it. There are times when a +man--if he is a man--must act for himself. And I--" he broke off, still +chafing, his hand seeking without violence to free him from that hold +which could not have been so very powerful, though it resisted his +efforts. "Luke," he said suddenly, and the anger was gone from his voice, +"let me go, old chap. You must let me go. It isn't right--it isn't just +to--to take advantage of being--what you are." + +The quick falter in the words deprived them of any sting, yet on the +instant Lucas's hand fell, setting him free. + +"All right, Bertie! Go!" he said. + +And Bertie went--three steps, and halted. Lucas remained motionless +before the fire. He was not so much as looking at him. + +Several seconds passed in silence. Then impulsively Bertie turned. His +lips were quivering. He went straight back to the quiet figure on the +hearth, lifted the free arm, and drew it boyishly round his neck. + +"Old chap, forgive me!" he said. + +"For what you haven't done?" Lucas asked, with a very kindly smile. + +"For being an unconscionable brute!" Bertie said, with feeling. "I didn't +mean, it, old man. I didn't mean it!" + +"Oh, shucks, dear fellow! Don't be such a silly ass! It's demoralising +for all concerned." Lucas Errol's hand pressed his shoulder +admonishingly. "She's a nice little girl, Bertie. I've taken a kind of +fancy to her myself." + +Bertie looked up quickly. "Luke, you're a brick!" + +Lucas shook his head. "But you mustn't ask her yet, lad. She's not ready +for it. I'm not sure that you are ready for it yourself." + +Bertie's face fell. "Why not? I'm in dead earnest. I want to marry her, +just as soon as she will have me." + +"Quite so," drawled Nap, from the depths of the lounge behind him. "And +she, I doubt not, wants to marry you--even sooner, if possible." + +He had come up in his noiseless fashion unobserved. Attired in evening +dress, slim, sleek, well-groomed, he lay at full length and gazed up at +the two brothers, a malicious glitter in his eyes. He held an unlighted +cigarette between his fingers. + +"Pray don't let me interrupt, Lucas," he said airily, ignoring Bertie's +sharp exclamation, which was not of a pacific nature. "I always enjoy +seeing you trying to teach the pride of the Errols not to make a fool of +himself. It's a gigantic undertaking, isn't it? Let me know if you +require any assistance." + +He placed the cigarette between his lips and felt for some matches. + +"I am going to turn my attention to you now," Lucas rejoined in his tired +voice. "Bertie, old chap, go and dress, will you? You can come to my room +afterwards." + +"Bring me one of those spills first," said Nap. + +Bertie stood rigid. He was white to the lips with the effort to control +himself. Nap, outstretched, supple as a tiger, lay and watched him +unwaveringly. + +"Go, Bertie!" Lucas said very quietly. + +He took a spill himself from the mantelpiece, and tried to hold it to the +blaze. But he stooped with difficulty, and sharply Bertie reached forward +and took it from him. + +"I will," he said briefly, and lighting the spill, carried it to Nap, at +ease on the sofa. + +With a faint smile Nap awaited him. He did not offer to take the burning +spill, and Bertie held it in sullen silence to the end of his cigarette. +His hand was not very steady, and after a moment Nap took his wrist. + +The cigarette glowed, and Nap looked up. "It's a pity you're too big to +thrash, Bertie," he said coolly, and with a sudden movement doubled the +flaming paper back upon the fingers that held it. + +Bertie's yell was more of rage than pain. He struck furiously at his +tormentor with his free hand, but Nap, by some trick of marvellous +agility, evaded the blow. He leapt over the back of the settee with a +laugh of devilish derision. + +And, "Bertie, go!" said Lucas peremptorily. + +Without a word Bertie checked himself as it were in mid career, stood a +second as one gathering his strength, then turned in utter silence and +marched away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE JESTER'S INFERNO + + +Between the two men who were left not a word passed for many minutes. Nap +prowled to and fro with his head back and his own peculiarly insolent +smile curving the corners of his mouth. There was a ruddy glare in his +eyes, but they held no anger. + +Lucas, still leaning on his crutch, stood with his back turned, his face +to the fire. There was no anger about him either. He looked spent. + +Abruptly Nap ceased his pacing and came up to him. "Come!" he said. "You +have had enough of this. I will help you to your room." + +Slowly Lucas lifted his heavy eyes. "Send Hudson to me," he said. + +Nap looked at him sharply. Then, "Lean on me," he said. "I'll help you." + +"No. Send Hudson." The words ended upon a stifled groan. + +Nap turned swiftly and dragged forward the settee. "Lie down here for a +minute, while I fetch him. Don't faint, man! You will be easier +directly. You have been on your feet too long. There! Is that better?" + +Lucas drew a long, shuddering breath and slowly suffered his limbs to +relax. His face was ghastly though he forced himself to smile. + +"Yes, I am better. Don't call Hudson for a minute. Nap!" + +Nap bent. + +"Put your hand under my shoulders. Ah! That's a help. I always like your +touch. Say, Boney," the words came gaspingly, the sunken eyes were heavy +with pain, "you'll think me a mean brute. I am, dear fellow, I am; a +coward, too, from the same point of view. But--ill or well, I've got to +say it. You've been running amok to-day, and it's been altogether too +lively to be just pleasant. You've got to pull up. I say it." + +Nap's smile had utterly departed. It was some other impulse that twitched +his lips as he made reply. + +"Whatever you say is law." + +"Thanks! I'm duly grateful. Do you mind wiping my forehead? I'm too lazy +to move. Boney, old chap, he's a well-behaved youngster on the whole. +What do you want to bait him for?" + +"Because I'm a jealous devil," Nap said through his teeth. + +"Oh, rats, dear fellow! We are not talking in parables. You're a bit of a +savage, I know, but--" + +"More than that," threw in Nap. + +"No--no! You can hold yourself in if you try. And why jealous, anyway? +We're all brothers. Say, Boney, I'm going to hurt you infernally. You hit +the youngster below the belt. It was foul play." + +"What can you expect?" muttered Nap. + +"I expect--better things. If you must be a beast, be a clean beast. If +you must hit out now and then, give him a chance to hit back. It's kind +of shabby--the game you played today." + +"Are you going to make me apologise?" asked Nap grimly. + +"Shucks, no; He would think you were laughing at him. Clap him on the +back and tell him not to be a fool. He'll understand that." + +"And wish him luck with the parson's daughter?" said Nap, with a sneer. + +"Why not, old chap?" + +"You really mean to let him marry the first girl who runs after +his dollars?" + +"It isn't the dollars," said the millionaire gently. "And she isn't +running after him either. She's running away." + +"Same thing sometimes," said Nap. + +"Oh, don't be cynical, Boney! It's so damned cheap! There! I've done +swearing at you for the present. It's wonderful how you fellows bear with +me. Find Hudson, will you? And then go and tell Lady Carfax that I am +afraid I can't visit her this evening as I had hoped." + +"Do you know she talks of leaving tomorrow?" said Nap. + +"Yes, I know. Guess she is quite right to go." + +"She's not fit for it," said Nap, in a fierce undertone. "It's madness. I +told her so. But she wouldn't listen." + +"She is the best judge," his brother said. "Anyway, she is in an +intolerable position. We can't press her to prolong it. Besides--whatever +he is--her husband has first right." + +"Think so?" said Nap. + +"It is so," Lucas asserted quietly, "whether you admit it or not." + +Nap did not dispute the point, but his jaw looked exceedingly +uncompromising as he departed to find the valet. + +When a little later he asked for admission to Anne's presence, however, +his bitter mood seemed to have modified. He entered with the air of one +well assured of his welcome. + +"Are you in a mood for chess tonight?" he asked. + +"Now, you're not to plague her, Nap," put in Mrs. Errol. "She isn't going +to spend her last evening amusing you." + +"Oh, please," protested Anne. "It is your son who has had all the +amusing to do." + +Nap smiled. "There's for you, alma mater!" he remarked as he sat down. + +"Lady Carfax is much too forbearing to say anything else," retorted +Mrs. Errol. + +"Lady Carfax always tells the truth," said Nap, beginning to set the +chess-board, "which is the exact reason why all her swains adore her." + +"Well," said Mrs. Errol very deliberately, though without venom, "I guess +that's about the last quality I should expect you to appreciate." + +"Strange to say, it is actually the first just now," said Nap. "Are you +going, alma mater? Don't let me drive you away!" + +He rose, nevertheless, to open the door for her; and Mrs. Errol went, +somewhat with the air of one complying with an unspoken desire. + +Nap came softly back and resumed his task. "P'r'aps you will be good +enough to refrain from referring to me again as the august lady's son," +he said. "She doesn't like it." + +"Why not?" said Anne in astonishment. + +He glanced up at her as if contemplating something. Then, "You see, the +benign mother is not over and above proud of me," he drawled. "If it were +Bertie now--well, I guess even you will admit that Bertie is the flower +of the flock." + +His manner mystified her, but it was not her way to seek to probe +mysteries. She smiled as she said, "I have yet to discover that you are +so very despicable." + +"You have yet to discover--many things," said Nap enigmatically. "Will +you be pleased to make the first move?" + +She did so silently. They had played together several times before. He +had formed a habit of visiting her every evening, and though her skill +at the game was far from great, it had been a welcome diversion from the +constant anxiety that pressed so heavily upon her. Nap was an expert +player, yet he seemed to enjoy the poor game which was all she had to +offer. Perhaps he liked to feel her at his mercy. She strongly suspected +that he often deliberately prolonged the contest though he seldom allowed +her to beat him. + +To-night, however, he seemed to be in a restless mood, and she soon saw +that he was bent upon a swift victory. He made his moves with a quick +dexterity that baffled her completely, and but a very few minutes elapsed +before he uttered his customary warning. + +"You would do well to beware." + +"Which means that I am beaten, I suppose," she said, with a smile of +resignation. + +"You can save yourself if you like," he said, with his eyes on the board, +"if you consider it worth while." + +"I don't think I do," she answered. "The end will be the same." + +His eyes flashed up at her. "You surrender unconditionally?" + +She continued to smile despite the sadness of her face. "Absolutely. I am +so accustomed to defeat that I am getting callous." + +"You seem to have great confidence in my chivalry," he said, looking +full at her. + +"I have--every confidence, Mr. Errol," she answered gravely. "I think +that you and your brother are the most chivalrous men I know." + +His laugh had a ring of harshness. "Believe me, I am not accustomed to +being ranked with the saints," he said. "How shall I get away from your +halo? I warn you, it's a most awful misfit. You'll find it out presently, +and make me suffer for your mistake." + +"You haven't a very high opinion of my sense of justice," Anne said, with +just a tinge of reproach in her gentle voice. + +"No," he said recklessly. "None whatever. You are sure to forget who +fashioned the halo. Women always do." + +Anne was silent. + +He leaned suddenly towards her, careless of the chessmen that rolled in +all directions. "I haven't been living up to the halo to-day," he said, +and there was that in his voice that touched her to quick pity. "I've +been snapping and biting like a wild beast all day long. I've been in +hell myself, and I've made it hell wherever I went." + +"Oh, but why?" Half involuntarily she held out her hand to him as one who +would assist a friend in deep waters. + +He took it, held it closely, bowed his forehead upon it, and so sat +tensely silent. + +"Something is wrong. I wish I could help you," she said at last. + +He lifted his head, met her eyes of grave compassion, and abruptly +set her free. + +"You have done what you could for me," he said. "You've made me hate my +inferno. But you can't pull me out. You have"--she saw his teeth for a +second though scarcely in a smile--"other fish to fry." + +"Whatever I am doing, I shall not forget my friends, Nap," she said, with +great earnestness. + +"No," he returned, "you won't forget them. I shouldn't wonder if you +prayed for them even. I am sure you are one of the faithful." There was +more of suppressed misery than irony in his voice. "But is that likely to +help when you don't so much as know what to pray for?" + +He got up and moved away from her with that noiseless footfall that was +so like the stealthy padding of a beast. + +Anne lay and silently watched him. Her uncertainty regarding him had long +since passed away. Though she was far from understanding him, he had +become an intimate friend, and she treated him as such. True, he was +unlike any other man she had ever met, but that fact had ceased to +embarrass her. She accepted him as he was. + +He came back at length and sat down, smiling at her, though +somewhat grimly. + +"You will pardon your poor jester," he said, "if he fails to make a joke +on your last night. He could make jokes--plenty of them, but not of the +sort that would please you." + +Anne said nothing. She would not, if she could help it, betray to any +how much she was dreading the morrow. But she felt that he knew it in +spite of her. + +His next words revealed the fact. "You are going to purgatory," he +said, "and I am going to perdition. Do you know, I sometimes wonder if +we shouldn't do better to turn and fly in the face of the gods when +they drive us too hard? Why do we give in when we've nothing to gain +and all to lose?" + +She met his look with her steadfast eyes. "Does duty count as +nothing?" she said. + +He made an impatient movement, and would have spoken, but she +stopped him. + +"Please don't rail at duty. I know your creed is pleasure, but the +pursuit of pleasure does not, after all, bring happiness." + +"Who wants pleasure?" demanded Nap fiercely. "That's only the anesthetic +when things get unbearable. You use duty in the same way. But what we +both want, what we both hanker for, starve for, is just life! Who cares +if there is pain with it? I don't, nor do you. And yet we keep on +stunting and stultifying ourselves with these old-fashioned remedies for +a disease we only half understand, when we might have all the world and +then some. Oh, we're fools--we're fools!" His voice rang wildly +passionate. He flung out his arms as if he wrestled with something. +"We've been cheated for centuries of our birthright, and we still put up +with it, still bring our human sacrifices to an empty shrine!" + +And there he broke off short, checked suddenly at the height of his +outburst though she had made no second effort to stop him. + +Her quiet eyes had not flinched from his. She had made no sign of +shrinking. With the utmost patience she had listened to him. Yet by some +means intangible the fiery stream of his rebellion was stayed. + +There fell a brief silence. Then he rose. "I am afraid I am not fit for +civilised society to-night," he said. "I will say good-bye." He held her +hand for a moment. "You will let me see you sometimes?" + +"I hope to come now and then to Baronmead," she answered quietly. "But +you will not--please--come to the Manor again." + +He looked down at her with eyes that had become inscrutable. "I shall not +come against your will," he said. + +"Thank you," she answered simply. + +And so he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A BIG THING + + +As the widowed rector's only daughter, Dot's occupations were many and +various, and it was in consequence no difficult matter to be too deeply +engrossed in these occupations to have any time to spare for intercourse +with the rector's pupil. + +Her brother had gone back to college, and there was therefore no excuse +for the said pupil to linger when his studies were over, though he +invented many that would not have borne a very close investigation. + +But his ingenuity was all to no purpose. Dot could be ingenious too, and +she evaded him so adroitly that at the end of a week he had abandoned +his efforts. + +He went about with a certain sternness in those days, but it was not the +sternness of the vanquished, rather the dogged patience of the man who is +quite sure of ultimate success. Dot, peeping from the kitchen window to +see him ride away, marked this on more than one occasion and +strengthened her defences in consequence. She had not the remotest +intention of seeing Bertie alone again for many a month, if ever. His +persistence had scared her badly on that night at Baronmead. She was +horribly afraid of what he might feel impelled to say to her, almost +terrified at the bare notion of an explanation, and the prospect of a +possible apology was unthinkable. It was easier for her to sacrifice his +good comradeship, though that of itself was no easy matter, and she could +only thrust her sense of loss into the background of her thoughts by the +most strenuous efforts. + +She was sturdily determined to make him relinquish their former pleasant +intimacy before they should meet again. She was growing up, she told +herself severely, growing up fast; and intimacies of that sort were +likely to be misconstrued. + +She took the counsel of none upon this difficult matter. Her father was +too vague a dreamer to guide her, or so much as to realise that she stood +in need of guidance. And Dot had gone her own independent way all her +life. Her healthy young mind was not accustomed to grapple with problems, +but she did not despair on that account. She only resolutely set herself +to cope with this one as best she might, erecting out of her multifarious +duties a barrier calculated to dishearten the most hopeful knight. + +But in thus constructing her defences there was one force with which she +omitted to reckon and against which she in consequence made no +preparation, a force which, nevertheless, was capable of shattering all +her carefully-laid schemes at a touch. + +As she emerged among the last of the congregation from the church on the +Sunday morning following her visit to Baronmead, she found Lucas Errol +leaning upon the open lych-gate. + +He greeted her with that shrewd, kindly smile of his before which it was +almost impossible to feel embarrassed or constrained. Yet she blushed +vividly at meeting him, and would gladly have turned the other way had +the opportunity offered. For there in the road below, doing something to +the motor, was Bertie. + +"It's a real pleasure to meet you again, Miss Waring," said Lucas, in his +pleasant drawl. "I was just hoping you would come along. I met your +father before the service, and he promised to show me his orchids." + +"Oh!" said Dot, nervously avoiding a second glance in Bertie's direction. +"Won't you come across to the Rectory then and wait for him there?" + +"May I?" said Lucas. + +He straightened himself with an effort and transferred his weight to his +crutch. Dot shyly proffered her arm. + +"Let me!" said Bertie. + +He was already on the steps, but Lucas waved him down, and accepted the +girl's help instead. + +"We will go in the garden way," said Dot. "It's only just across +the road." + +He halted terribly in the descent, and glancing at him in some anxiety +she saw that his lips were tightly closed. Overwhelming pity for the man +overcame her awkwardness, and she spoke sharply over her shoulder. + +"Bertie, come and take my place! You know what to do better than I do." + +In an instant Bertie was beside her, had slipped his arm under his +brother's shoulder, and taken his weight almost entirely off the crutch. +His active young strength bore the great burden unfalteringly and with +immense tenderness, and there ran through Dot, watching from above, a +queer little indefinable thrill that made her heart beat suddenly faster. +He certainly was a nice boy, as he himself had declared. + +"That didn't hurt so badly, eh, old chap?" asked the cheery voice. "Come +along, Dot. You can give him a hand now while I fetch the car round. +There are no steps to the Rectory, so he will be all right." + +His airy friendliness banished the last of Dot's confusion. With a keen +sense of relief she obeyed him. Those few seconds of a common solicitude +had bridged the gulf at least temporarily. + +"This is real good of you," Lucas Errol said, as he took her arm again. +"And it's a luxury I ought not to indulge in, for I can walk alone on +the flat." + +"Oh, it is horrid for you!" she said with vehemence. "How ever do +you bear it?" + +"We can all of us bear what we must," he said, smiling whimsically. + +"But we don't all of us do it well," said Dot, as she opened the +Rectory gate. + +"I guess that's a good deal a matter of temperament," said the +American. "A fellow like Nap, for instance, all hustle and quicksilver, +might be expected to kick now and then. One makes allowances for a +fellow like that." + +"I believe you make allowances for everyone," said Dot, impetuously. + +"Don't you?" he asked. + +"No, I am afraid I don't." + +There was a pause. The garden door was closed behind them. They +stood alone. + +Lucas Errol's eyes travelled over the stretch of lawn that lay between +them and the house, dwelt for a few thoughtful seconds upon nothing in +particular, and finally sought those of the girl at his side. + +"One must be fair, Miss Waring," he said gently. "I can't imagine you +being deliberately unfair to anyone." + +She flushed again. There was something in his manner that she could not +quite fathom, but it was something that she could not possibly resent. + +"Not deliberately--of course," she said after a moment, as he waited for +an answer. + +"Of course not," he agreed, in his courteous, rather tired voice. "If, +for instance, you were out with a friend and met a scorpion in a rage who +stung you both, you'd want to take it out of the scorpion, wouldn't you, +not the friend?" + +She hesitated, seeing in a flash the trend of the conversation, and +unwilling to commit herself too deeply. + +He read her reluctance at a glance. "Please don't be afraid of me," he +said, with that most winning smile of his. "I promise you on my honour +that whatever you say shall not be used against you." + +She smiled involuntarily. "I am not afraid of you, only--" + +"Only--" he said. + +"I think there are a good many scorpions about," she told him rather +piteously. "I could name several, all venomous." + +"I understand," said Lucas Errol. He passed his hand within her arm again +and pressed it gently. "And so you are flinging away all your valuables +to escape them?" he questioned. "Forgive me--is that wise?" + +She did not answer. + +He began to make his difficult progress towards the house. + +Suddenly, without looking at her he spoke again. "I believe you're a +woman of sense, Miss Waring, and you know as well as I do that there is a +price to pay for everything. And the biggest things command the highest +prices. If we haven't the means to pay for a big thing when it is +offered us, we must just let it go. But if we have--well, I guess we'd be +wise to sell out all the little things and secure it. Those same little +things are so almighty small in comparison." + +He ceased, but still Dot was silent. It was not the silence of +embarrassment, however. He had spoken too kindly for that. + +He did not look at her till they were close to the house, then for a few +moments she was aware of his steady eyes searching for the answer she +had withheld. + +"Say, Miss Waring," he said, "you are not vexed any?" + +She turned towards him instantly, her round face full of the most earnest +friendliness. "I--I think you're a brick, Mr. Errol," she said. + +He shook his head. "Nothing so useful, I am afraid, but I'm grateful to +you all the same for thinking so. Ah! Here comes your father." + +The rector was hastening after them across the grass. He joined them on +the path before the house and urged his visitor to come in and rest. The +orchids were in the conservatory. He believed he had one very rare +specimen. If Mr. Errol would sit down in the drawing-room he would bring +it for his inspection. + +And so it came to pass that when Bertie entered he found his brother deep +in a botanical discussion with the enthusiastic rector while Dot had +disappeared. Bertie only paused to ascertain this fact before he turned +round and went in quest of her. + +He knew his way about the lower regions of the Rectory, and he began a +systematic search forthwith. She was not, however, to be very readily +found. He glanced into all the downstairs rooms without success. He was, +in fact, on the point of regretfully abandoning his efforts on the +supposition that she had retreated to her own room when her voice rang +suddenly down the back stairs. She was calling agitatedly for help. + +It was enough for Bertie. He tore up the stairs with lightning speed, +boldly announcing his advent as he went. + +He found her at the top of the house in an old cupboard used for storing +fruit. She was mounted upon a crazy pair of steps that gave signs of +imminent collapse, and to save herself from the catastrophe that this +would involve she was clinging to the highest shelf with both hands. + +"Be quick!" she cried to him. "Be quick! I'm slipping every second!" + +The words were hardly uttered before the steps gave a sudden loud crack +and fell from beneath her with a crash. But in the same instant Bertie +sprang in and caught her firmly round the knees. He proceeded with much +presence of mind to seat her on his shoulder. + +"That's all right. I've got you," he said cheerily. "None the worse, eh? +What are you trying to do? May as well finish before you come down." + +Dot seemed for a moment inclined to resent the support thus jauntily +given, but against her will her sense of humour prevailed. + +She uttered a muffled laugh. "I'm getting apples for dessert." + +"All in your Sunday clothes!" commented Bertie. "That comes of +procrastination--the fatal British defect." + +"I hate people who hustle," remarked Dot, hoping that her hot cheeks were +not visible at that altitude. + +"Meaning me?" said Bertie, settling himself for an argument. + +"Oh, I suppose you can't help it," said Dot, filling her basket with +feverish speed. "You Americans are all much too greedy to wait for +anything. Am I very heavy?" + +"Not in the least," said Bertie. "I like being sat on now and then. I +admit the charge of greed but not of impatience. You misjudge me there." + +At this point a large apple dropped suddenly upon his upturned face +and, having struck him smartly between the eyes, fell with a thud to +the ground. + +Bertie said "Damn!" but luckily for Dot he did not budge an inch. + +"I beg your pardon," he added a moment later. + +"What for?" said Dot. + +"For swearing," he replied. "I forgot you didn't like it." + +"Oh!" said Dot; and after a pause, "Then I beg yours." + +"Did you do it on purpose?" he asked curiously. + +"I want to get down, please," said Dot. + +He lowered her from his shoulder to his arms with perfect ease, set her +on the ground, and held her fast. + +"Dot," he said, his voice sunk almost to a whisper, "if you're going to +be violent, I guess I shall be violent too." + +"Let me go!" said Dot. + +But still he held her. "Dot," he said again. "I won't hustle you any. I +swear I won't hustle you. But--my dear, you'll marry me some day. +Isn't that so?" + +Dot was silent. She was straining against his arms, and yet he held her, +not fiercely, not passionately, but with a mastery the greater for its +very coolness. + +"I'll wait for you," he said. "I'll wait three years. I shall be +twenty-five then, and you'll be twenty-one. But you'll marry me then, +Dot. You'll have to marry me then." + +"Have to!" flashed Dot. + +"Yes, have to," he repeated coolly. "You are mine." + +"I'm not, Bertie!" she declared indignantly. "How--how dare you hold me +against my will? And you're upsetting the apples too. Bertie, +you--you're a horrid cad!" + +"Yes, I know," said Bertie, an odd note of soothing in his voice. "That's +what you English people always do when you're beaten. You hurl insults, +and go on fighting. But it's nothing but a waste of energy, and only +makes the whipping the more thorough." + +"You hateful American!" gasped Dot. "As if--as if--we could be beaten!" + +She had struggled vainly for some seconds and was breathless. She turned +suddenly in his arms and placed her hands against his shoulders, forcing +him from her. Bertie instantly changed his position, seized her wrists, +drew them outward, drew them upward, drew them behind his neck. + +"And yet you love me," he said. "You love yourself better, but--you +love me." + +His face was bent to hers, he looked closely into her eyes. And--perhaps +it was something in his look that moved her--perhaps it was only the +realisation of her own utter impotence--Dot suddenly hid her face upon +his shoulder and began to cry. + +His arms were about her in an instant. He held her against his heart. + +"My dear, my dear, have I been a brute to you? I only wanted to make you +understand. Say, Dot, don't cry, dear, don't cry!" + +"I--I'm not!" sobbed Dot. + +"Of course not," he agreed. "Anyone can see that. But +still--darling--don't!" + +Dot recovered herself with surprising rapidity. "Bertie, you--you're a +great big donkey!" She confronted him with wet, accusing eyes. "What you +said just now wasn't true, and if--if you're a gentleman you'll +apologise." + +"I'll let you kick me all the way downstairs if you like," said +Bertie contritely. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I didn't mean +to make you--" + +"You didn't!" broke in Dot. "But you didn't tell the truth. That's why +I'm angry with you. You--told--a lie." + +"I?" said Bertie. + +He had taken his arms quite away from her now. He seemed in fact a little +afraid of touching her. But Dot showed no disposition to beat a retreat. +They faced each other in the old apple cupboard, as if it were the most +appropriate place in the world for a conflict. + +"Yes, you!" said Dot. + +"What did I say?" asked Bertie, hastily casting back his thoughts. + +She looked at him with eyes that seemed to grow more contemptuously +bright every instant. "You said," she spoke with immense deliberation, +"that I loved myself best." + +"Well?" said Bertie. + +"Well," she said, and took up her basket as one on the point of +departure, "it wasn't true. There!" + +"Dot!" His hand was on the basket too. He stopped her without touching +her. "Dot!" he said again. + +Dot's eyes began to soften, a dimple showed suddenly near the corner of +her mouth. "You shouldn't tell lies, Bertie," she said. + +And that was the last remark she made for several seconds, unless the +smothered protests that rose against Bertie's lips could be described as +such. They were certainly not emphatic enough to make any impression, and +Bertie treated them with the indifference they deserved. + +Driving home, he managed to steer with one hand while he thrust the other +upon his brother's knee. + +"Luke, old chap, I've gone dead against your wishes," he jerked out. +"And--for the first time in my life--I'm not sorry. She'll have me." + +"I thought she would," said Lucas. He grasped the boy's hand closely. +"There are times when a man--if he is a man--must act for himself, +eh, Bertie?" + +Bertie laughed a little. "I don't believe it was against your wishes +after all." + +"Well, p'r'aps not." There was a very kindly smile in the sunken eyes. "I +guess you're a little older than I thought you were, and anyway, she +won't marry you for the dollars." + +"She certainly won't," said Bertie warmly. "But she's horribly afraid of +people saying so, since Nap--" + +"Ah! Never mind Nap!" + +"Well, it's made a difference," Bertie protested. "We are not going to +marry for three years. And no one is to know we are engaged except you +and her father." + +"She doesn't mind me then?" + +There was just a tinge of humour in the words, and Bertie looked at +him sharply. + +"What are you grinning at? No, of course she doesn't mind you. But what's +the joke?" + +"Look where you're going, dear fellow. It would be a real pity to break +your neck at this stage." + +Bertie turned his attention to his driving and was silent for a little. + +Suddenly, "I have it!" he exclaimed. "You artful old fox! I believe you +had first word after all. I wondered that she gave in so easily. What did +you say to her?" + +"That," said Lucas gently, "is a matter entirely between myself and +one other." + +Bertie broke into his gay boyish laugh and sounded the hooter for sheer +lightness of heart. + +"Oh, king, live for ever--and then some! You're just the finest fellow in +the world!" + +"Open to question, I am afraid," said the millionaire with his quiet +smile. "And as to living for ever--well, I guess it's a cute idea in the +main, but under present conditions it's a notion that makes me tired." + +"Who said anything about present conditions?" demanded Bertie, almost +angrily; and then in an altered voice: "Old man, I didn't mean that, and +you know it. I only meant that you will always be wanted wherever you +are. God doesn't turn out a good thing like you every day." + +"Oh, shucks!" said Lucas Errol softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CHAMPION + + +When Mrs. Errol remarked in her deep voice, that yet compassed the +incomparable Yankee twang, that she guessed she wasn't afraid of any man +that breathed, none of those who heard the bold assertion ventured to +contradict her. + +Lucas Errol was entertaining a large house-party, and the great hall +was full of guests, most of whom had just returned from the day's +sport. The hubbub of voices was considerable, but Mrs. Errol's remark +was too weighty to be missed, and nearly everyone left off talking to +hear its sequel. + +Mrs. Errol, who was the soul of hospitality, but who, nevertheless, +believed firmly in leaving people to amuse themselves in their own way, +had only returned a few minutes before from paying a round of calls. She +was wrapped in furs from head to foot, and her large, kindly face shone +out of them like a November sun emerging from a mass of cloud. + +There was a general scramble to wait upon her, and three cups of tea were +offered her simultaneously, all of which she accepted with a nod of +thanks and a gurgle of laughter. + +"Put it down! I'll drink it presently. Where do you think I've just come +from? And what do you think I've been doing? I'll wager my last dollar no +one can guess." + +"Done!" said Nap coolly, as he pulled forward a chair to the blaze. +"You've been bearding the lion in his den, and not unsuccessfully, to +judge by appearances. In other words, you've been to the Manor and have +drunk tea with the lord thereof." + +Mrs. Errol subsided into the chair and looked round upon her interested +audience. "Well," she said, "you're right there, Nap Errol, but I +shan't part with my last dollar to you, so don't you worry any about +that. Yes, I've been to the Manor. I've had tea with Anne Carfax. And +I've talked to the squire as straight as a mother. He was pretty mad at +first, I can assure you, but I kept on hammering it into him till even +he began to get tired. And after that I made my points. Oh, I was +mighty kind on the whole. But I guess he isn't under any +misapprehension as to what I think of him. And I'm going over to-morrow +to fetch dear Anne over here to lunch." + +With which cheerful announcement Mrs. Errol took up one of her cups of +tea and drank it with a triumphant air. + +"I told him," she resumed, "he'd better watch his reputation, for he was +beginning to be regarded as the local Bluebeard. Oh, I was as frank as +George Washington. And I told him also that there isn't a man inside the +U.S.A. that would treat a black as he treats his wife. I think that +surprised him some, for he began to stutter, and then of course I had the +advantage. And I used it." + +"It must have been real edifying for Lady Carfax," drawled Nap. + +Mrs. Errol turned upon him. "I'm no bigger a fool than I look, Nap Errol. +Lady Carfax didn't hear a word. We had it out in the park. I left the +motor half way on purpose, and made his high mightiness walk down with +me. He was pretty near speechless by the time I'd done with him, but he +did just manage at parting to call me an impertinent old woman. And I +called him--a gentleman!" + +Mrs. Errol paused to swallow her second cup of tea. + +"I was wheezing myself by that time," she concluded. "But I'd had my say, +and I don't doubt that he is now giving the matter his full and careful +attention, which after all is the utmost I can expect. It may not do dear +Anne much good, but I guess it can't do her much harm anyway, and it was +beer and skittles to me. Why, it's five weeks now since she left, and +she's only been over once in all that time, and then I gather there was +such a row that she didn't feel like facing another till she was quite +strong again." + +"An infernal shame!" declared Bertie hotly. "I'll drive you over myself +to-morrow to fetch her. We'll get up some sports in her honour. I wonder +if she likes tobogganing." + +"I wonder if she will come," murmured Nap. + +Mrs. Errol turned to her third cup. "She'll come," she said with +finality; and no one raised any further question on that point. Mrs. +Errol in certain moods was known to be invincible. + +Though it was nearly the middle of March, the land was fast held in the +grip of winter. There had been a heavy fall of snow, and a continuous +frost succeeding it had turned Baronmead into an Alpine paradise. +Tobogganing and skating filled the hours of each day; dancing made fly +the hours of each night. Bertie had already conducted one ice gymkhana +with marked success, and he was now contemplating a masquerade on the +ornamental sheet of water that stretched before the house. Strings of +fairy lights were being arranged under his directions, and Chinese +lanterns bobbed in every bush. + +He was deeply engrossed in these preparations, but he tore himself away +to drive his mother to the Manor on the following morning. His alacrity +to do this was explained when he told her that he wanted to drop into the +Rectory and persuade the rector to bring Dot that night to see the fun, +to which plan Mrs. Errol accorded her ready approval, and even undertook +to help with the persuading, to Bertie's immense gratification. He and +his mother never talked confidences, but they understood each other so +thoroughly that words were superfluous. + +So they departed both in excellent spirits, while Lucas leaning upon +Nap's shoulder, went down to the lake to watch the skaters and to +superintend Bertie's preparations for the evening's entertainment. + +The voices of the tobogganists reached them from a steep bit of ground +half-a-mile away, ringing clearly on the frosty air. + +"The other side of that mound is tip-top for skiing," remarked Nap, +"better than you would expect in this country. But no one here seems +particularly keen on it. I was out early this morning and tried several +places that were quite passable, but that mound was the best!" + +"After dancing till three," commented Lucas. "What a restless +fellow you are!" + +Nap laughed a somewhat hard laugh. "One must do something. I never sleep +after dawn. It's not my nature." + +"You'll wear yourself to a shadow," smiled Lucas. "There's little enough +of you as it is--nothing but fire and sinew!" + +"Oh, rats, my dear fellow! I'm as tough as leather. There would need to +be something very serious the matter for me to lie in bed after daylight. +Just look at that woman doing eights! It's a sight to make you shudder." + +"Whom do you mean? Mrs. Van Rhyl? I thought you were an admirer of hers." + +Nap made a grimace. "Where is your native shrewdness? And I never +admired her skating anyway. It's about on a par with Mrs. Damer's +dancing. In the name of charity, don't ask that woman to come and help us +dance again. I'm not equal to her. It's yoking an elephant to a zebra." + +"I thought you liked Mrs. Damer," said Lucas. + +Nap grimaced again. "She's all right in the hunting-field. Leave her in +her own sphere and I can appreciate her." + +"Do you think you are capable of appreciating any woman?" asked Lucas +unexpectedly. + +Nap threw him a single fiery glance that was like a sword-thrust. His +slight figure stiffened to arrogance. But his answer, when it came, +was peculiarly soft and deliberate--it was also absolutely and +imperiously final. + +"I guess so." + +Lucas said no more, but he did not look wholly satisfied. There were +times in his dealings with Nap when even his tolerance would carry him +no further. + +They spent a considerable time on the terrace in front of the house. It +was a sheltered spot, and the sunshine that day was generous. + +"This place is doing you good," Nap remarked presently. "You are +considerably stronger than you were." + +"I believe I am," Lucas answered. "I sleep better." + +He had just seated himself on a stone bench that overlooked the lake. +His eyes followed the darting figures of the skaters with a certain +intentness. + +Nap leaned upon the balustrade and watched him. "Why don't you see Capper +again?" he asked suddenly. + +The millionaire's gaze gradually lost its intentness and grew remote. "I +am afraid he is on the wrong side of the Atlantic," he said. + +"You can cable to him." + +"Yes, I know." Slowly Lucas raised his eyes to his brother's face. "I can +have him over to tell me what he told me before--that I haven't the +recuperative strength essential to make his double operation a success." + +"He may tell you something different this time." Nap spoke insistently, +with the energy of one not accustomed to accept defeat. + +Lucas was silent. + +"Say, Lucas"--there was more than insistence in his tone this time; it +held compulsion--"you aren't faint-hearted?" + +The blue eyes began to smile. "I think not, Boney. But I've got to hang +on for the present--till you and the boy are married. P'r'aps then--I'll +take the risk." + +Nap looked supercilious. "And if it is not my intention to marry?" + +"You must marry, my dear fellow. You'll never be satisfied otherwise." + +"You think marriage the hall-mark of respectability?" Nap sneered openly. + +"I think," Lucas answered quietly, "that for you marriage is the +only end. The love of a good woman would be your salvation. Yes, you +may scoff. But--whether you admit it or not--it is the truth. And +you know it." + +But Nap had ceased already to scoff; the sneer had gone from his face. He +had turned his head keenly as one who listens. + +It was nearly a minute later that he spoke, and by that time the humming +of an approaching motor was clearly audible. + +Then, "It may be the truth," he said, in a tone as deliberate as his +brother's, "and it may not. But--no good woman will ever marry me, Luke. +And I shall never marry--anything else." + +He stooped, offering his shoulder for support. "Another guest, I fancy. +Shall we go?" + +He added, as they stood a moment before turning, "And if you won't send +for Capper--I shall." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE MASQUERADE + + +The brothers were standing together on the steps when Anne alighted from +the car, and her first thought as she moved towards them was of their +utter dissimilarity. They might have been men of different nationalities, +so essentially unlike each other were they in every detail. And yet she +felt for both that ready friendship that springs from warmest gratitude. + +Nap kept her hand a moment in his grasp while he looked at her with that +bold stare of his that she had never yet desired to avoid. On the +occasion of her last visit to Baronmead they had not met. She wondered if +he were about to upbraid her for neglecting her friends, but he said +nothing whatever, leaving it to Lucas to inquire after her health while +he stood by and watched her with those dusky, intent eyes of his that +seemed to miss nothing. + +"I am quite strong again, thank you," she said in answer to her host's +kindly questioning. "And you, Mr. Errol?" + +"I am getting strong too," he smiled. "I am almost equal to running +alone; but doubtless you are past that stage. Slow and sure has been my +motto for some years now." + +"It is a very good one," said Anne, in that gentle voice of hers that was +like the voice of a girl. + +He heard the sympathy in it, and his eyes softened; but he passed the +matter by. + +"I hope you have come to stay. Has my mother managed to persuade you?" + +"She will spend to-night anyway," said Mrs. Errol. + +"And only to-night," said Anne, with quiet firmness. "You are all very +kind, but--" + +"We want you," interposed Lucas Errol. + +She smiled, a quick smile that seemed reminiscent of happier days. "Yes, +and thank you for it. But I must return in good time to-morrow. I told my +husband that I would do so. He is spending the night in town, but he will +be back to-morrow." + +Nap's teeth were visible, hard clenched upon his lower lip as he +listened, but still he said nothing. There was something peculiarly +forcible, even sinister, in his silence. Not until Anne presently turned +and directly addressed him did his attitude change. + +"Will you take me to see the lake?" she said. "It looked so charming as +we drove up." + +He moved instantly to accompany her. They went out together into the +hard brightness of the winter morning. + +"It is so good to be here," Anne said a little wistfully. "It is like a +day in paradise." + +He laughed at that, not very pleasantly. + +"It is indeed," she persisted, "except for one thing. Now tell me; in +what have I offended?" + +"You, Lady Carfax!" His brows met for an instant in a single, +savage line. + +"Is it only my fancy?" she said. "I have a feeling that all is not +peace." + +He stopped abruptly by the balustrade that bounded the terrace. "The +queen can do no wrong," he said. "She can hurt, but she cannot offend." + +"Then how have I hurt you, Nap?" she said. + +The quiet dignity of the question demanded an answer, but it was slow in +coming. He leaned his arms upon the balustrade, pulling restlessly at the +ivy that clung there. Anne waited quite motionless beside him. She was +not looking at the skaters; her eyes had gone beyond them. + +Abruptly at length Nap straightened himself. "I am a fool to take you to +task for snubbing me," he said. "But I am not accustomed to being +snubbed. Let that be my excuse." + +"Please tell me what you mean," said Anne. + +He looked at her. "Do you tell me you do not know?" + +"Yes," she said. Her clear eyes met his. "Why should I snub you? I +thought you were a friend." + +"A friend," he said, with emphasis. "I thought so too. But--" + +"Yes?" she said gently. + +"Isn't it customary with you to answer your friends when they write to +you?" he asked. + +Her expression changed. A look of sharp pain showed for an instant in her +eyes. "My invariable custom, Nap," she said very steadily. + +"Then--that letter of mine--" he paused. + +"When did you write it?" + +"On the evening of the day you came here last--the day I missed you." + +"It did not reach me," she said, her voice very low. + +He was watching her very intently. "I sent it by messenger," he said. "I +was hunting that day. I sat down and wrote the moment I heard you had +been. Tawny Hudson took it." + +"It did not reach me," she repeated. She was very pale; her eyes had +dropped from his. + +"I was going to allow you a month to answer that letter," he went on, as +though she had not spoken. "After that, our--friendship would have been +at an end. The month will be up to-morrow." + +Anne was silent. + +"Lady Carfax," he said, "will you swear to me that you never received +that letter?" + +"No," she said. + +"You will not?" + +"I will not." + +He made a sudden movement--such a movement as a man makes involuntarily +at an unexpected dart of pain. + +Anne raised her eyes very quietly. "Let us be quite honest," she said. +"No oath is ever necessary between friends." + +"You expect me to believe you?" he said, and his voice was shaken by some +emotion he scarcely tried to hide. + +She smiled very faintly. "You do believe me," she said. + +He turned sharply from her. "Let us go down," he said. + +They went down to the garden below the terrace, walking side by side, in +silence. They stood at the edge of the lake together, and presently they +talked--talked of a hundred things in which neither were greatly +interested. A few people drifted up and were introduced. Then Bertie came +running down, and their _tête-à-tête_ was finally at an end. + +They were far away from one another during luncheon, and when the meal +was over Nap disappeared. He never concerned himself greatly about his +brother's guests. + +At Bertie's persuasion Anne had brought skates, and she went down with +him to the lake in the afternoon, where they skated together till +sunset. She had a curious feeling that Nap was watching her the whole +time, though he was nowhere to be seen; nor did he appear at tea in the +great hall. + +Later Mrs. Errol took possession of her, and they sat together in the +former's sitting-room till it was time to dress for dinner. Anne had +brought no fancy dress, but her hostess was eager to provide for her. +She clothed her in a white domino and black velvet mask, and insisted +upon her wearing a splendid diamond tiara in the shape of a heart in her +soft hair. + +When she finally descended the stairs in Mrs. Errol's company, a slim man +dressed as a harlequin in black and silver, who was apparently waiting +for her halfway down, bowed low and presented a glorious spray of crimson +roses with the words: "For the queen who can do no wrong!" + +"My, Nap! How you startled me!" ejaculated Mrs. Errol. + +But Anne said nothing whatever. She only looked him straight in the eyes +for an instant, and passed on with the roses in her hand. + +During dinner she saw nothing of him. The great room was crowded with +little tables, each laid for two, and she sat at the last of all with her +host. Later she never remembered whether they talked or were silent. She +only knew that somewhere the eyes that had watched her all the afternoon +were watching her still, intent and tireless, biding their time. But +silence in Lucas Errol's company was as easy as speech. Moreover, a +string band played continuously throughout the meal, and the hubbub +around them made speech unnecessary. + +When they went out at last on to the terrace the whole garden was +transformed into a paradise of glowing colours. The lake shone like a +prism of glass, and over all the stars hung as if suspended very near +the earth. + +Lucas went down to the edge of the ice, leaning on his valet. Bertie, +clad as a Roman soldier, was already vanishing in the distance with +someone attired as a Swiss peasant girl. Mrs. Errol, sensibly wrapped +in a large motoring coat, was maintaining a cheery conversation with +the rector, who looked cold and hungry and smiled bluely at +everything she said. + +Anne stood by her host and watched the gay scene silently. "You ought to +be skating," he said presently. + +She shook her head. "Not yet. I like watching. It makes me think of when +I was a girl." + +"Not so very long ago, surely!" he said, with a smile. + +"Seven years," she answered. + +"My dear Lady Carfax!" + +"Yes, seven years," she repeated, and though she also smiled there was a +note of unspeakable dreariness in her voice. "I was married on my +eighteenth birthday." + +"My dear Lady Carfax," he said again. And with that silence fell once +more between them, but in some magic fashion his sympathy imparted itself +to her. She could feel it as one feels sudden sunshine on a cold day. It +warmed her to the heart. + +She moved at length, turning towards him, and at once he spoke, as if +she had thereby set him at liberty to do so. + +"Shall I tell you what I do when I find myself very badly up against +anything?" he said. + +"Yes, tell me." Instinctively she drew nearer to him. There was that +about this man that attracted her irresistibly. + +"It's a very simple remedy," he said, "simpler than praying. One can't +always pray. I just open the windows wide, Lady Carfax. It's a +help--even that." + +"Ah!" she said quickly. "I think your windows must be always open." + +"It seems a pity to shut them," he answered gently. "There is always a +sparrow to feed, anyway." + +She laughed rather sadly. "Yes, there are always sparrows." + +"And sometimes bigger things," he said, "things one wouldn't miss for +half creation." + +"Or lose again for the other half," said the cool voice of a skater who +had just glided up. + +Anne started a little, but Lucas scarcely moved. + +"Lady Carfax is waiting to go on the ice," he said. + +"And I am waiting to take her," the new-comer said. + +His slim, graceful figure in its black, tight-fitting garb sparkled at +every turn. His eyes shone through his velvet mask like the eyes of an +animal in the dark. + +He glided nearer, but for some reason inexplicable to herself, Anne +stepped back. + +"I don't think I will," she said. "I am quite happy where I am." + +"You will be happier with me," said the harlequin, with imperial +confidence. + +He waved his hand to Hudson standing a few paces away with her skates, +took them from him, motioned her to the bank. + +She stepped forward, not very willingly. Hudson, at another sign, spread +a rug for her. She sat down, and the glittering harlequin kneeled upon +the ice before her and fastened the blades to her feet. + +It only took a couple of minutes; he was deft in all his ways. And +then he was on his feet again, and with a royal gesture had helped +her to hers. + +Anne looked at him half dazzled. The shimmering figure seemed to be +decked in diamonds. + +"Are you ready?" he said. + +She looked into the glowing eyes and felt as if some magic attraction +were drawing her against her will. + +"So long!" called Lucas from the bank. "Take care of her, Boney." + +In another moment they were gliding into that prism of many lights and +colours, and the harlequin, holding Anne's hands, laughed enigmatically +as he sped her away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS + + +It seemed to Anne presently that she had left the earth altogether, and +was gliding upwards through starland without effort or conscious movement +of any sort, simply as though lifted by the hands that held her own. +Their vitality thrilled through her like a strong current of electricity. +She felt that whichever way they turned, wherever they led her, she must +be safe. And there was a quivering ecstasy in that dazzling, rapid rush +that filled her veins like liquid fire. + +"Do you know where you are?" he asked her once. + +And she answered, in a species of breathless rapture, "I feel as if I +were caught in a rainbow." + +He laughed again at that, a soft, exultant laugh, and drew her more +swiftly on. + +They left the other masqueraders behind; they left the shimmering +lake and its many lights; and at last in the starlight only they +slackened speed. + +Anne came out of her trance of delight to find that they were between the +banks of the stream that fed the lake. The ground on each side of them +shone white and hard in the frost-bound silence. The full moon was just +rising over a long silver ridge of down. She stood with her face to its +cold splendour, her hands still locked in that vital grip. + +Slowly at last, compelled she knew not how, she turned to the man beside +her. His eyes were blazing at her with a lurid fire, and suddenly that +sensation that had troubled her once before in his presence--a sensation +of sharp uneasiness--pricked through her confidence. + +She stood quite still, conscious of a sudden quickening of her heart. But +she did not shrink from that burning gaze. She met it with level eyes. + +For seconds they stood so, facing one another. He seemed to be trying in +some fashion to subjugate her, to beat her down; but she would not yield +an inch. And it was he who finally broke the spell. + +"Am I forgiven?" + +"For what?" she said. + +"For pretending to disbelieve you this morning." + +"Was it pretence?" she asked. + +"No, it wasn't!" he told her fiercely. "It was deadly earnest. I would +have given all I had to be able to disbelieve you. Do you know that?" + +"But why, Nap?" + +"Why?" he said. "Because your goodness, your purity, are making a slave +of me. If I could catch you--if I could catch you only once--cheating, as +all other women cheat, I should be free. But you are irreproachable and +incorruptible. I believe you are above temptation." + +"Oh, you don't know me," she interposed quietly. "But even if I were all +these things, why should it vex you?" + +"Why?" he said. "Because you hold me back, you check me at every turn. +You harness me to your chariot wheels, and I have to run in the path of +virtue whether I will or not!" + +He broke off with a laugh that had in it a note of savagery. + +"Don't you even care to know what was in that letter that you never had?" +he asked abruptly. + +"Tell me!" she said. + +"I told you that I was mad to have missed you that day. I begged you to +let me have a line before you came again. I besought you to let me call +upon you and to fix a day. I signed myself your humble and devoted slave, +Napoleon Errol." + +He ceased, still laughing queerly, with his lower lip between his teeth. + +Anne stood silent for many seconds. + +At last, "You must never come to see me," she said very decidedly. + +"Not if I bring the mother as a chaperon?" he jested. + +"Neither you nor your mother must ever come to see me again," she +said firmly. "And--Nap--though I know that the writing of that +letter meant nothing whatever to you, I am more sorry than I can say +that you sent it." + +He threw back his head arrogantly. "What?" he said. "Has the queen no +further use for her jester? Am I not even to write to you then?" + +"I think not," she said. + +"And why?" he demanded imperiously. + +"I think you know why," she said. + +"Do I know why? Is it because you are afraid of your husband?" + +"No." + +"Afraid of me then?" There was almost a taunt in the words. + +"No," she said again. + +"Why, then?" He was looking full into her eyes. There was something +peculiarly sinister about his masked face. She almost felt as if he were +menacing her. + +Nevertheless she made unfaltering reply. "For a reason that means much +to me, though it may not appeal to you. Because my husband is not +always sane, and I am afraid of what he might do to you if he were +provoked any further." + +"Great Lucifer!" said Nap. "Does he think I make love to you then?" + +She did not answer him. "He is not always sane," she repeated. + +"You are right," he said. "That reason does not appeal to me. Your +husband's hallucinations are not worth considering. But I don't propose +on that account to write any more letters for his edification. For the +future--" He paused. + +"For the future," Anne said, "there must be no correspondence between us +at all. I know it seems unreasonable to you, but that cannot be helped. +Mr. Errol, surely you are generous enough--chivalrous enough--to +understand." + +"No, I don't understand," Nap said. "I don't understand how you can, by +the widest stretch of the imagination, believe it your duty to conform to +the caprices of a maniac." + +"How can I help it?" she said very sadly. + +He was silent a moment. His hands were still gripping hers; she +could feel her wedding-ring being forced into her flesh. "Like our +mutual friend, Major Shirley," he said slowly, "I wonder why you +stick to the man." + +She turned her face away with a sound that was almost a moan. + +"You never loved him," he said with conviction. + +She was silent. Yet after a little, as he waited, she spoke as one +compelled. + +"I live with him because he gave me that for which I married him. He +fulfilled his part of the bargain. I must fulfil mine. I was nothing but +his bailiff's daughter, remember; a bailiff who had robbed him--for whose +escape from penal servitude I paid the price." + +"Great Heavens!" said Nap. + +She turned to him quickly, with an impulsiveness that was almost girlish. +"I have never told anyone else," she said. "I tell you because I know +you are my friend and because I want you to understand. We will +never--please--speak of it again." + +"Wait!" Nap's voice rang stern. "Was it part of the bargain that he +should insult you, trample on you, make you lead a dog's life without a +single friend to make it bearable?" + +She did not attempt to answer him. "Let us go back," she said. + +He wheeled at once, still holding her hands. + +They skated a few yards in silence. Then suddenly, almost under his +breath, he spoke. "I am not going to give up my friendship with you. Let +that be clearly understood." + +"You are very good to me," she said simply. + +"No. I am not. I am human, that's all. I don't think this state of +affairs can last much longer." + +She shuddered. Her husband's condition had been very much worse of late, +but she did not tell him so. + +They were skating rapidly back towards the head of the lake. In front of +them sounded the swirling rush of skates and the laughter of many voices. + +"I'm sorry I've been a beast to you," Nap said abruptly. "You mustn't +mind me. It's just my way." + +"Oh, I don't mind you, Nap," she answered gently. + +"Thanks!" he said. + +And with that he stooped suddenly and shot forward like a meteor, bearing +her with him. + +They flashed back into the gay throng of masqueraders, and mingled with +the crowd as though they had never left it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE DESCENT FROM OLYMPUS + + +"Come and say good-bye to Lucas," said Bertie. "He is up and +asking for you." + +So, with an impetuous hand upon Anne's arm, he whisked her away on the +following morning to his brother's room. She was dressed for departure, +and waiting for the motor that was to take her home. Of Nap she had seen +nothing. He had a way of absenting himself from meals whenever it suited +him to do so. She wondered if he meant to let her go without farewell. + +She found the master of the house lying on a couch sorting his +correspondence. He pushed everything aside at her entrance. + +"Come in, Lady Carfax! I am glad not to have missed you. A pity you have +to leave so soon." + +"I only wish I could stop longer," Anne said. He looked up at her, +holding her hand, his shrewd blue eyes full of the most candid +friendliness. + +"You will come again, I hope, when you can," he said. + +"Thank you," she answered gently. + +He still held her hand. "And if at any time you need the help--or +comfort--of friends," he said, "you won't forget where to look?" + +"Thank you," she said again. + +"Is Nap driving you?" he asked. + +"No," said Bertie. "Nap's skiing." + +"Then you, Bertie--" + +"My dear fellow," said Bertie, "I'm fearfully sorry, but I can't. You +understand, don't you, Lady Carfax? I would if I could, but--" his +excuses trailed off unsatisfactorily. + +He turned very red and furiously jabbed at the fire with his boot. + +"Please don't think of it," said Anne. "I am so used to being alone. In +fact, your mother wanted to come with me, but I dissuaded her." + +"Then I conclude it is useless for me to offer myself as an escort?" +said Lucas. + +"Yes, quite useless," she smiled, "though I am grateful to you all the +same. Good-bye, Mr. Errol!" + +"Good-bye!" he said. + +As Bertie closed the door behind her he took up a letter from the heap at +his elbow; but his eyes remained fixed for several seconds. + +At length: "Bertie," he said, without looking up, "are you due at the +Rectory this morning?" + +"This afternoon," said Bertie. + +He also bent over the pile of correspondence and began to sort. He often +did secretarial work for Lucas. + +Lucas suffered him for some seconds longer. Then, "You don't generally +behave like a boor, Bertie," he said. + +"Oh, confound it!" exclaimed Bertie, with vehemence. "You don't suppose I +enjoyed letting her think me a cad, do you?" + +"I don't suppose she did," Lucas said thoughtfully. + +"Well, you do anyway, which is worse." + +Bertie slapped down the letters and walked to the fire. + +Lucas returned without comment to the paper in his hand. + +After a long pause Bertie wheeled. He came back to his brother's side and +pulled up a chair. His brown face was set in stern lines. + +"I don't see why I should put up with this," he said, "and I don't +mean to. It was Nap's doing. I was going to drive her. He +interfered--as usual." + +"I thought you said Nap was skiing." Lucas spoke without raising his +eyes. He also looked graver than usual. + +"I did. He is. But he has got some game on, and he didn't want me +looking on. Oh, I'm sick to death of Nap and all his ways! He's rotten +to the core!" + +"Gently, boy, gently! You go too far." Lucas looked up into the hot blue +eyes, the severity all gone from his own. "It isn't what things look like +that you have to consider. It is what they are. Nap, poor chap, is badly +handicapped; but he has been putting up a big fight for himself lately, +and he hasn't done so badly. Give the devil his due." + +"What's he doing now?" demanded Bertie. "It's bad enough to have the +whole community gossiping about his flirtations with women that don't +count. But when it comes to a good woman--like Lady Carfax--oh, I tell +you it makes me sick! He might leave her alone, at least. She's miserable +enough without him to make matters worse." + +"My dear boy, you needn't be afraid for Lady Carfax." Lucas Errol's voice +held absolute conviction. "She wouldn't tolerate him for an instant if he +attempted to flirt with her. Their intimacy is founded on something more +solid than that. It's a genuine friendship or I have never seen one." + +"Do you mean to say you don't know he is in love with her?" +ejaculated Bertie. + +"But he won't make love to her," Lucas answered quietly. "He is drawn by +a good woman for the first time in his life, and no harm will come of it. +She is one of those women who must run a straight course. There are a few +such, born saints, 'of whom the world is not worthy.'" He checked himself +with a sudden sigh. "Suppose we get to business, Bertie." + +"It's all very fine," said Bertie, preparing to comply. "But if Nap ever +falls foul of Sir Giles Carfax, he may find that he has bitten off more +than he can chew. They say he is on the high road to the D.T.'s. Small +wonder that Lady Carfax looks careworn!" + +Small wonder indeed! Yet as Anne sped along through the sunshine on that +winter day she found leisure from her cares to enjoy the swift journey in +the great luxurious car. The burden she carried perpetually weighed less +heavily upon her than usual. The genial atmosphere of Baronmead had +warmed her heart. The few words that Lucas had spoken with her hand in +his still echoed through her memory. Yes, she knew where to look for +friends; no carping critics, but genuine, kindly friends who knew and +sympathised. + +She thought of Nap with regret and a tinge of anxiety. She was sure he +had not intended to let her go without farewell, but she hoped earnestly +that he would not pursue her to the Manor to tell her so. + +And then she remembered his letter; that letter that her husband must +have intercepted, recalling his storm of unreasonable fury on the +occasion of her last return from Baronmead. He had doubtless read that +letter and been inflamed by it. Hating her himself, he yet was fiercely +jealous of her friends--these new friends of hers who had lavished upon +her every kindness in her time of need, to whom she must always feel +warmly grateful, however churlishly he might ignore the obligation. + +He had raised no definite objection to this present visit of hers. Mrs. +Errol had, in her own inimitable fashion, silenced him, but she had known +that she had gone against his wish. And it was in consequence of this +knowledge that she was returning so early, though she did not expect him +back till night. He should have no rational cause for complaint against +her. For such causes as his fevered brain created she could not hold +herself responsible. + +It was hard to lead such a life without becoming morbid, but Anne was +fashioned upon generous lines. She strove ever to maintain the calm level +of reason wherewith to temper the baleful influence of her husband's +caprice. She never argued with him; argument was worse than futile. But +steadfastly and incessantly she sought by her moderation to balance the +difficulties with which she was continually confronted. And to a certain +extent she succeeded. Open struggles were very rare. Sir Giles knew that +there was a limit to her submission, and he seldom, if ever now, +attempted to force her beyond that limit. + +But she knew that a visit from Nap would place her in an intolerable +position, and with all her heart she hoped that her caution of the +previous day had taken effect. Though utterly reckless on his own +account, she fancied that she had made an impression upon him, and that +he would not act wholly without consideration for her. In bestowing her +friendship upon him she had therewith reposed a confidence which his +invariable compliance with her wishes had seemed to warrant. She did not +think that her trust would ever prove to have been misplaced. But she was +sorry, unquestionably she was sorry, to have left without bidding him +farewell. It might be long ere they would meet again. + +And with the thought yet in her mind she looked out of the window in +front of her, and saw his slim, supple figure, clad in a white sweater, +shoot swiftly down a snow-draped slope ahead of her, like a meteor +flashing earthwards out of the blue. + +His arms were extended; his movements had a lithe grace that was +irresistibly fascinating to the eye. Slight though he was, he might have +been a young god descending on a shaft of sunshine from Olympus. But the +thought that darted all unbidden through Anne's mind was of something far +different. She banished it on the instant with startled precipitancy; but +it left a scar behind that burned like the sudden searing of a hot iron. +"I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven." + +The car was stopping. The figure on skis was waiting motionless by the +roadside. It ran smoothly up to him and stopped. + +"Dramatic, wasn't it?" smiled Nap. "Did you think you were going to +escape without another word?" + +"I had almost begun to think so," she admitted, smiling also. + +He stooped to take off the skis, then stepped to the door. He leaned +towards her. There was no faintest sign of cynicism in his face that day. +He was in the mood of good comradeship in which she liked him best. + +"Walk across to the park with me," he said. "It is scarcely a mile by the +downs. The man can go on to the Manor with your things and wait here for +me on his way back." + +Anne considered for a moment, but only for a moment. It might make her +late for the luncheon hour, but she was convinced that her husband would +not return before the evening. And the world was very enchanting that +winter day. The very ground was scattered with diamonds! + +"Yes, I will come," she said. + +He handed her out, and picked up his discarded skis. His dark face smiled +with a certain triumph. The grim lines about his mouth were less apparent +than usual. He moved with the elastic swing of well-knit limbs. + +And Anne, walking beside him, found it not difficult to thrust her cares +a little farther into the sombre background of her mind. The sun shone +and the sky was blue, and the ground was strewn with glittering diamonds. +She went over the hill with him, feeling that she had snatched one more +hour in paradise. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +VENGEANCE + + +By what magic he cajoled her into trying her skill upon skis Anne never +afterwards remembered. It seemed to her later that the exhilarating +atmosphere of that cloudless winter day must in some magic fashion have +revived in her the youth which had been crushed out of existence so long +ago. A strange, irresponsible happiness possessed her, so new, so subtly +sweet, that the heavy burden she had borne for so long seemed almost to +have shrunk into insignificance. It permeated her whole being like an +overpowering essence, so that she forgot the seven dreary years that +separated her from her girlhood, forgot the bondage to which she was +returning, the constant, ever-increasing anxiety that wrought so +mercilessly upon her; and remembered only the splendour of the sunshine +that sparkled on the snow, and the ecstasy of the keen clear air she +breathed. It was like an enchanting dream to her, a dream through which +she lived with all the greater zest because it so soon must pass. + +All the pent energies of her vanished youth were in the dream. She could +not--for that once she could not--deny them vent. + +And Nap, strung to a species of fierce gaiety that she had never seen in +him before, urged her perpetually on. He would not let her pause to +think, but yet he considered her at every turn. He scoffed like a boy at +her efforts to ski, but he held her up strongly while he scoffed, taking +care of her with that adroitness that marked everything he did. And while +they thus dallied the time passed swiftly, more swiftly than either +realised. The sun began to draw to the south-west. The diamonds ceased to +sparkle save here and there obliquely. The haze of a winter afternoon +settled upon the downs. + +Suddenly Anne noticed these things, suddenly the weight of care which had +so wonderfully been lifted from her returned, suddenly the shining +garment of her youth slipped from her, and left her like Cinderella when +the spell of her enchantment was broken. + +"Nap!" she exclaimed. "I must go! I must have been dreaming to forget +the time!" + +"Time!" laughed Nap. "What is time?" + +"It is something that I have to remember," she said. "Why, it must be +nearly two o'clock!" + +Nap glanced at the sun and made no comment. Anne felt for and consulted +her watch. It was already three. + +She looked up in amazement and dismay. "I must go at once!" + +"Don't!" said Nap. "I am sure your watch is wrong." + +"I must go at once," she repeated firmly. "It is long past the luncheon +hour. I had no idea we had been here so long. You must go too. Your +chauffeur will think you are never coming." + +The skis were still on her feet. Nap looked at her speculatively. + +"This is rather an abrupt end," he said. "Won't you have one more go? A +few minutes more or less can't make any difference now." + +"They may make all the difference," Anne said. "Really, I ought not." + +They stood on a gentle slope that led downwards to the path she +must take. + +"Just ski down into the valley from here then," urged Nap. "It's quicker +than walking. I won't hold you this time. You won't fall." + +The suggestion was reasonable, and the fascination of the sport had taken +firm hold of her. Anne smiled and yielded. She set her feet together and +let herself go. + +Almost at the same instant a sound that was like the bellow of an +infuriated bull reached her from above. + +She tried to turn, but the skis were already slipping over the snow. To +preserve her balance she was forced to go, and for seconds that seemed +like hours she slid down the hillside, her heart thumping in her throat; +her nerves straining and twitching to check that maddening progress. For +she knew that sound. She had heard it before, had shrunk secretly many a +time before its coarse brutality. It was the yell of a man in headlong, +furious wrath, an animal yell, unreasoning, hideously bestial; and she +feared, feared horribly, what that yell might portend. + +She reached the valley, and managed to swerve round without falling. But +for an instant she could not, she dared not, raise her eyes. Clear on the +frosty air came sounds that made her blood turn cold. She felt as if her +heart would suffocate her. A brief blindness blotted out all things. + +Then with an agonised effort she forced back her weakness, she forced +herself to look. Yes, the thing she had feared so horribly was being +enacted like a ghastly nightmare above her. + +There on the slope was her husband, a gigantic figure outlined against +the snow. He had not stopped to parley. Those mad fits of passion always +deprived him, at the outset, of the few reasoning powers that yet +remained to him. Without question or explanation of any kind he had flung +himself upon the man he deemed his enemy, and Anne now beheld him, +gripping him by the neck as a terrier grips a rat, and flogging him with +the loaded crop he always carried to the hunt. + +Nap was writhing to and fro like an eel, striving, she saw, to overthrow +his adversary. But the gigantic strength of madness was too great for +his lithe activity. By sheer weight he was borne down. + +With an anguished cry Anne started to intervene. But two steps with the +skis flung her headlong upon the snow, and while she grovelled there, +struggling vainly to rise, she heard the awful blows above her like +pistol-shots through the stillness. Once she heard a curse, and once a +demonical laugh, and once, thrilling her through and through, spurring +her to wilder efforts, a dreadful sound that was like the cry of a +stricken animal. + +She gained her feet at last, and again started on her upward way. Nap had +been forced to his knees, but he was still fighting fiercely, as a rat +will fight to the last. She cried to him wildly that she was coming, was +coming, made three paces, only to trip and fall again. + +Then she knew that, so handicapped, she could never reach them, and with +shaking, fumbling fingers she set herself to unfasten the straps that +bound the skis. It took her a long, long time--all the longer for her +fevered haste. And still that awful, flail-like sound went on and on, +though all sound of voices had wholly ceased. + +Free at last, she stumbled to her feet, and tore madly up the hill. She +saw as she went that Nap was not struggling any longer. He was hanging +like a wet rag from the merciless grip that upheld him, and though his +limp body seemed to shudder at every crashing blow, he made no voluntary +movement of any sort. + +As she drew near, her husband suddenly swung round as though aware of +her, and dropped him. He fell in a huddled heap upon the snow, and lay, +twisted, motionless as a dead thing. + +Sir Giles, his eyes suffused and terrible, turned upon his wife. + +"There lies your gallant lover!" he snarled at her. "I think I've cured +him of his fancy for you." + +Her eyes met his. For a single instant, hatred, unveiled, passionate, +shone out at him like sudden, darting lightning. For a single instant she +dared him with the courage born of hatred. It was a challenge so distinct +and personal, so fierce, that he, satiated for the moment with revenge, +drew back instinctively before it, as an animal shrinks from the flame. + +She uttered not a word. She did not after that one scorching glance deign +to do battle with him. Without a gesture she dismissed him, kneeling +beside his vanquished foe as though he were already gone. + +And--perhaps it was the utter intrepidity of her bearing that deprived +him of the power to carry his brutality any further just then--perhaps +the ferocity that he had never before encountered in those grey eyes +cowed him somewhat in spite of the madness that still sang in his +veins--whatever the motive power it was too potent to resist--Sir Giles +turned and tramped heavily away. + +Anne did not watch him go. It was nothing to her at the moment whether he +went or stayed. She knelt beside the huddled, unconscious figure and +tried to straighten the crumpled limbs. The sweater had been literally +torn from his back, and the shirt beneath it was in blood-stained +tatters. His face was covered with blood. Sir Giles had not been +particular as to where the whip had fallen. Great purple welts crossed +and re-crossed each other on the livid features. The bleeding lips were +drawn back in a devilish grimace. He looked as though he had been +terribly mauled by some animal. + +Anne gripped a handful of snow, hardly knowing what she did, and tried to +stanch the blood that ran from an open cut on his temple. She was not +trembling any longer. The emergency had steadied her. But the agony of +those moments was worse than any she had ever known. + +Minutes passed. She was beginning to despair. An icy dread was at her +heart. He lay so lifeless, so terribly inert. She had attempted to lift +him, but the dead weight was too much for her. She could only rest his +head against her, and wipe away the blood that trickled persistently from +that dreadful, sneering mouth. Would he ever speak again, she asked +herself? Were the fiery eyes fast shut for ever? Was he dead--he whose +vitality had always held her like a charm? Had her friendship done this +for him, that friendship he had valued so highly? + +She stooped lower over him. The anguish of the thought was more than she +could bear. + +"O God," she prayed suddenly and passionately, "don't let him die! Don't +let him die!" + +And in that moment Nap's eyes opened wide and fixed themselves upon her. + +He did not attempt to move or speak, but the snarling look went wholly +out of his face. The thin lips met and closed over the battered mouth. He +lay regarding her intently, as if he were examining some curious thing he +had never seen before. + +And before that gaze Anne's eyes wavered and sank. She felt she could +never meet his look again. + +"Are you better?" she whispered. "Can I--will you let me--help you?" + +"No," he said. "Just--leave me!" He spoke quite quietly, but the very +sound of his voice sent a perfect storm of emotion through her. + +"I can't!" she said almost fiercely. "I won't! Let me help you! Let me do +what I can!" + +He stirred a little, and his brow contracted, but he never took his eyes +from her face. + +"Don't be--upset," he said with an effort. "I'm not going--to die!" + +"Tell me what to do," she urged piteously. "Can I lift you a +little higher?" + +"For Heaven's sake--no!" he said, and swallowed a shudder. "My +collar-bone's broken." + +He was silent for a space, but still his dusky eyes watched her +perpetually. + +At last, "Let me hold your hand," he said. + +She put it into his, and he held it tightly. The blood was running down +his face again, and she wiped it softly away. + +"Thank you," he said. + +Those two words, spoken almost under his breath, had a curious effect +upon her. She felt as if something had suddenly entered and pierced her +heart. Before she knew it, a sharp sob escaped her, and then all in a +moment she broke down. + +"Oh, Nap, Nap," she sobbed, "I wish I had died before this could happen!" + +She felt his hand tighten as she crouched there beside him in her +anguish, and presently she knew that he had somehow managed to raise +himself to a sitting posture. + +Through her agony his voice came to her. It was pitched very low, yet +she heard it. + +"Don't cry--for pity's sake! I shall get over it. I shall live--to get +back--my own." + +Torn by emotion as she was, something in the last words, spoken in that +curious undertone, struck her with a subtle force. With a desperate +effort she controlled herself. She knew that he was still watching her +with that strange intensity that she could not bring herself to meet. His +right hand still held hers with quivering tenacity; the other trailed +uselessly on the snow. + +"Let me help you," she urged again. + +He was silent; she feared he was going to refuse. And then she saw that +his head had begun to droop forward, and realised that he was on the +verge of another collapse. Instinctively she slipped her arm about his +shoulders, supporting him. He was shuddering all over. She drew his head +to rest against her. + +A long time passed thus, she kneeling motionless, holding him, while he +panted against her breast, struggling with dogged persistence to master +the weakness that threatened to overpower him. It was terrible to see him +so, he the arrogant, the fierce, the overbearing, thus humbled to the +earth before her. She felt the agony of his crushed pride, and yearned +with an intensity that was passionate to alleviate it. But there seemed +nothing for her to do. She could only kneel and look on in bitter +impotence while he fought his battle. + +In the end he lifted his face. "It's the collarbone that hurts so +infernally. Could you push something under my left arm to hold it up? +Your muff would do. Mind my wrist--that's broken too. Ah!" She heard the +breath whistle sharply between his lips as with the utmost care she +complied with these instructions, but almost instantly he went on: "Don't +be afraid of touching me--unless I'm too monstrous to touch. But I don't +believe I can walk." + +"I will help you," she said. "I am very strong." + +"You are--wonderful," he said. + +And the words comforted her subtly though she did not know exactly what +he meant by them. + +Thereafter they scarcely spoke at all. By slow degrees he recovered his +self-command, though she knew with only too keen a perception how +intolerable was the pain that racked his whole body. With her assistance +and with strenuous effort he managed at last to get upon his feet, but he +was immediately assailed afresh by deadly faintness, and for minutes he +could stand only by means of her arms upholding him. + +Later, with his one available arm across her shoulders, he essayed to +walk, but it was so ghastly an ordeal that he could accomplish only a few +steps at a time. + +Anne did not falter now. She was past that stage. All her nerves were +strung to meet his pressing need. Again and again as he hung upon her, +half-fainting, she stopped to support him more adequately till he had +fought down his exhaustion and was ready to struggle on again. She +remained steadfast and resolute throughout the long-drawn-out agony of +that walk over the snow. + +"Great Heaven!" he muttered once. "That you should do this--for me!" + +And she answered him quickly and passionately, as though indeed there +were something within that spoke for her, "I would do anything for +you, Nap." + +It was drawing near to sunset when at last the end of the journey came in +sight. Anne perceived the car waiting in the distance close to the spot +where Nap had descended upon her that morning. + +She breathed a sigh of thankfulness. "I scarcely thought he would have +waited for you so long," she said. + +"He daren't do otherwise," said Nap, and she caught a faint echo of +arrogance in the words. + +And then of his own free will he paused and faced her. "You are coming +with me," he said. + +She shook her head. "No, Nap." + +His eyes blazed redly. His disfigured face was suddenly devilish. "You +are mad if you go back," he said. + +But she shook her head again. "No, I know what I am doing. And I am going +back now. But I will come to Baronmead in the morning." + +He looked at her. "Are you--tired of life?" he asked abruptly. + +She smiled--a piteous smile. "Very, very tired!" she said. "But you +needn't be afraid of that. He will not touch me. He will not even see me +to-night." Then, as he still looked combative, "Oh, please, leave this +matter to my judgment! I know exactly what I am doing. Believe me, I am +in no danger." + +He gave in, seeing that she was not to be moved from her purpose. + +They went a few yards farther; then, "In Heaven's name--come early to +Baronmead," he said jerkily. "I shall have no peace till you come." + +"I will," she promised. + +The chauffeur came to meet them with clumsy solicitude as they neared the +car, but Nap kept him at a distance. + +"Don't touch me! I've had a bad fall skiing. It's torn me to ribbons. +Just open the door. Lady Carfax will do the rest!" And as the man turned +to obey, "Not a very likely story, but it will serve our turn." + +"Thank you," she said very earnestly. + +He did not look at her again. She had a feeling that he kept his eyes +from her by a deliberate effort of the will. + +Silently she helped him into the car, saw him sink back with her muff +still supporting his injured arm, whispered a low "Good-bye!" and turned +to the waiting chauffeur. + +"Drive him quickly home," she said. "And then go for a doctor." + +Not till the car was out of sight did she realise that her knees were +shaking and refusing to support her. She tottered to a gate by the +roadside, and there, clinging weakly with her head bowed upon her arms, +she remained for a very long time. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE VISION + + +It was growing dusk when Anne at length came to the Manor. She was +utterly weary and faint from lack of food. The servant who admitted her +looked at her strangely, as if half afraid. + +"Please have tea taken to my sitting-room," she said quietly, as she +passed him. + +And with that she went straight to her room. Standing before a mirror to +remove her hat, she caught sight of something that seemed to stab her +heart. The cream cloth coat she wore was all spattered with blood. + +She stood rigid, not breathing, staring into the white face above +it--the white face of a woman she hardly knew, with compressed lips and +wild, tragic eyes. What was it those eyes held? Was it hatred? Was it +madness? Was it--? + +She broke away horror-stricken, and stripped the coat from her with hands +like ice. Again through her mind, with feverish insistence, ran those +words that had startled her earlier in the day. She found herself +repeating them deliriously, under her breath: "I beheld Satan--as +lightning--fall from heaven!" + +Why did they haunt her so? What was it in the utterance that +frightened her? What meaning did they hold for her? What hidden terror +lay behind it? What had happened to her? What nightmare horror was +this clawing at her heart, lacerating, devouring, destroying? It was +something she had never felt before, something too terrible to face, +too overwhelming to ignore. + +Was she going mad, she asked herself? And like a dreadful answer to a +riddle inscrutable her white lips whispered those haunting unforgettable +words: "I beheld Satan--as lightning--fall from heaven." + +Mechanically she bathed her face and hands and passed into her +sitting-room, where her tea awaited her. A bright fire crackled there, +and her favourite chair was drawn up to it. The kettle hissed merrily on +a spirit-lamp. + +Entering, she found, somewhat to her surprise, old Dimsdale waiting to +serve her. + +"Thank you," she said. "I can help myself." + +"If your ladyship will allow me," he said deferentially. + +She sat down, conscious of a physical weakness she could not control. And +the old butler, quiet and courteous and very grave, proceeded to make the +tea and wait upon her in silence. + +Anne lay back in her chair with her eyes upon the fire, and accepted his +ministrations without further speech. There was a very thorough +understanding between herself and Dimsdale, an understanding established +and maintained without words. + +The tea revived her, and after a little she turned her head and looked +up at him. + +"Well, Dimsdale?" + +Dimsdale coughed. "It was about Sir Giles that I wanted to speak to your +ladyship." + +"Well?" she said again. + +"Sir Giles, my lady, is not himself--not at all himself," Dimsdale told +her cautiously. "I was wondering just before you came in if I didn't +ought to send for the doctor." + +"Why, Dimsdale?" Anne looked straight up into the old man's troubled +face, but her eyes had a strangely aloof expression, as though the matter +scarcely touched her. + +Dimsdale shook his head. "It's not the same as usual, my lady. I've never +seen him like this before. There's something--I don't rightly know +what--about him that fair scares me. If your ladyship will only let me +send for the doctor--" + +He paused. Anne's eyes had gone back to the fire. She seemed to be +considering. + +"I don't think the doctor would be at home," she said at last. "Wait till +the morning, Dimsdale--unless he is really ill." + +"My lady, it's not that," said Dimsdale. "There's nothing ails his body. +But--but--" he faltered a little, and finally, "It's his mind," he said, +"if I may make so bold as to say it. I don't believe as he's safe. I'm +afraid he'll be doing a mischief to--someone." + +His pause was not lost upon Anne. Again she raised her eyes and steadily +regarded him. + +"To whom, Dimsdale?" she asked. + +"My lady--" the old man murmured unwillingly. + +"To me?" she questioned in a quiet, unmoved voice. "Why are you +afraid of that?" + +Dimsdale hesitated. + +"Tell me," she said. But again her eyes had sunk to the fire. She seemed +as one not vitally interested, as one whose thoughts were elsewhere. + +Reluctantly Dimsdale made answer: "He's been cutting your ladyship's +portrait into strips and burning 'em in the study fire. It was dreadful +to see him, so intent like and quiet. I saw him put his hand right into +the flame once, and he didn't seem to know. And he came in in one of his +black moods with his hunting-crop broken right in two. Carrying the +pieces he was, and glaring like as if all the world was against him. I +was afraid there would be trouble when he came home to lunch and found +your ladyship not there." + +He stopped, arrested by a sudden movement from Anne. She had leaned +forward and covered her face with her hands. The tension of her attitude +was such that Dimsdale became strongly aware that his presence was an +intrusion. Yet, the matter being urgent, he stood his ground. + +He waited silently, and presently Anne lifted her head. "I think you +must leave the matter till the morning, Dimsdale," she said. "It could do +no good to have the doctor at this hour. Besides, I doubt if he could +come. And Sir Giles will be himself again after a night's rest." + +"I'm very much afraid not, my lady," said Dimsdale lugubriously. "He's +drinking brandy--neat brandy--all the while. I've never seen him drink +like that before. It fair scares me, and that's the truth." + +"You are not afraid on your own account?" Anne asked. + +"Oh, no, my lady. He wouldn't interfere with me. It's your ladyship--" + +"Ah, well," she said, quietly interrupting, "you need not be afraid for +me either. I shall not go downstairs again to-night. He will not be +expecting me." + +"Very good, my lady." + +Dimsdale looked somewhat relieved but not wholly satisfied. He lingered +as if he longed yet did not dare to say more. + +As for Anne, she sat quite motionless gazing into the fire, her hands +clasped very tightly before her. She seemed to have dismissed the subject +under discussion and the faithful Dimsdale simultaneously from her mind. + +After a few seconds the old butler realised this, and without further ado +he removed the tea-things and went quietly away. + +Anne did not notice his departure. She was too deep in thought. Her +brain was steadier now, and she found it possible to think. For the first +time she was asking herself if she would be justified in bringing her +long martyrdom to an end. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain, +patiently, conscientiously, unflaggingly, throughout those seven bitter +years. She had married her husband without loving him, and he had never +sought to win her love. He had married her for the sake of conquering +her, attracted by the very coldness with which she had tried in her +girlhood to repel him. She had caught his fancy in those far-off days. +Her queenliness, her grace, had captivated him. And later, with the sheer +hunter's instinct, he had pursued her, and had eventually discovered a +means of entrapping her. He had named his conditions and she had named +hers. In the end he had dispatched the father to Canada and made the +daughter his wife. + +But his fancy for her had scarcely outlasted his capture. He had taken +pleasure for a while in humiliating her, counting it sport if he +succeeded in arousing her rare indignation. But soon even this had ceased +to amuse him. He had developed into that most odious of all bullies, the +domestic tyrant, and had therewith sunk back into those habits of +intemperance which his marriage had scarcely interrupted. He was many +years her senior. He treated her as a slave, and if now and then an +uncomfortable sensation of inferiority assailed him, he took his revenge +upon her in evil, glowering tempers that rendered him more of a beast +than a man. + +But yet she had borne with him. By neither word nor action had she ever +voluntarily widened the breach between them: His growing dislike had not +had any visible effect upon her. She had done her duty faithfully through +all, had borne his harshness and his insults in silence, with a patience +too majestic, too colossal, for his understanding. + +And now for the first time she asked herself, Did he want to be rid of +her? Had he invented this monstrous grievance to drive her from him? Were +the days of her bondage indeed drawing at last to an end? Had she borne +with him long enough? Was she free--was she free to go? + +Her heart quickened at the bare thought. How gladly would she set herself +to make a living when once this burden had been lifted from her! + +But she would not relinquish it without his sanction. She would be +faithful to the last, true to that bargain she had struck with him so +long ago. Yet surely he could not refuse it. She was convinced that he +hated her. + +Again she felt that strange new life thrilling in her veins. Again she +felt herself almost young. To be free! To be free! To choose her own +friends without fear; to live her own life in peace; to know no further +tumults or petty tyrannies--to be free! + +The prospect dazzled her. She lifted her face and gasped for breath. + +Then, hearing a sound at her door, she turned. + +A white-faced servant stood on the threshold. "If you please, my lady, +your coat is in a dreadful state. I was afraid there must have been an +accident." + +Anne stared at the woman for a few seconds with the dazed eyes of one +suddenly awakened. + +"Yes," she said slowly at length. "There was--an accident. Mr. Nap Errol +was--hurt while skiing." + +The woman looked at her with frank curiosity, but there was that about +her mistress at the moment that did not encourage inquiry or comment. + +She stood for a little silent; then, "What had I better do with the coat, +my lady?" she asked diffidently. + +Anne made an abrupt gesture. The dazed look in her eyes had given place +to horror. "Take it away!" she said sharply. "Do what you like with it! I +never want to see it again." + +"Very good, my lady." + +The woman withdrew, and Anne covered her face with her hands once more, +and shuddered from head to foot. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT THE MERCY OF A DEMON + + +Some time later Anne seated herself at her writing-table. + +The idea of writing to her husband had come to her as an inspiration; not +because she shirked an interview--she knew that to be inevitable--but +because she realised that the first step taken thus would make the final +decision easier for them both. + +She did not find it hard to put her thoughts into words. Her mind was +very clear upon the matter in hand. She knew exactly what she desired to +say. Only upon the subject of her friendship with Nap she could not bring +herself to touch. A day earlier she could have spoken of it, even in the +face of his hateful suspicion, without restraint. But to-night she could +not. It was as if a spell of silence had been laid upon her, a spell +which she dared not attempt to break. She dared not even think of Nap +just then. + +It was not a very long letter that she wrote, sitting there in the +silence of her room, and it did not take her long to write. But when it +was finished, closed and directed, she sat on with her chin upon her +hand, thinking. It seemed scarcely conceivable that he would refuse to +let her go. + +She could not imagine herself to be in any sense necessary to him. She +had helped him with the estate in many ways, but she had done nothing +that a trustworthy agent could not do, save, perhaps, in the matter of +caring for the poorer tenants. They would miss her, she told herself, but +no one else. It was very long since she had entertained any guests at the +Manor. Sir Giles had offended almost everyone who could ever have claimed +the privilege of intimacy with him. And people wondered openly that his +wife still lived with him. Well, they would not wonder much longer. + +And when her life was at her own disposal what would she do with it? + +There were many things she might do; as secretary, as companion, as +music-teacher, as cook. She knew she need not be at a loss. And again the +prospect of freedom from a yoke that galled her intolerably made her +heart leap. + +A slight sound in the passage brought her out of her reverie. She glanced +up. It was probably Dimsdale. She would give him the note to deliver to +his master in the morning. She crossed to the door and opened it. + +The next instant, in amazement, she drew back. On the threshold, face to +face with her, stood her husband! + +He did not give her time to speak, but pushed straight forward into the +room as if in haste. His face was white and purple in patches. His eyes +were narrowed and furtive. There was something unspeakably evil in the +way they avoided hers. He carried his right hand behind him. + +He began to speak at once in quick, staccato tones, with which she was +utterly unfamiliar. + +"So you think you are going to escape me, do you? But you won't! No, not +for all the Errols in the world!" + +She did not answer him. There was something so utterly unusual in this +abrupt visitation that she knew not how to cope with it. But he scarcely +waited for an answer. He swung the door behind him with a bang. + +"Do you remember," he said, his staccato tone merging into one of rising +violence, "a promise I made to you the first time I caught that scoundrel +making love to you? I swore that if it happened again I'd thrash him. +Well, I'm a man who keeps his promises. I've kept that one. And now it's +your turn. I thought at first I'd kill you. But I fancy this will hurt +you more." + +His hand shot suddenly out from behind him, and there followed the +whistle of a thong--the thick, leathern thong with which he kept his +dogs in order. + +It struck her as she stood before him, struck and curled about her +shoulders with a searching, scalding agony that turned her sick, wringing +from her a cry that would never have been uttered had she been prepared. + +But before he could strike again she was ready to cope with his madness. +On the instant she sprang, not from him, but to him, clasping his arms +with both of hers. + +"Giles!" she said, and her voice rang clear and commanding. "You are not +yourself. You don't know what you are doing. Look at me! Do you hear? +Look at me!" + +That was his vulnerable point, and instinctively she knew it. He was +afraid--as a wild animal is afraid--of the compulsion of her eyes. But he +fought with her savagely, furiously, refusing to face her, struggling +with inarticulate oaths to break away from her clinging arms. + +And Anne was powerless against him, powerless as Nap had been earlier +in the day, to make any impression against his frenzied strength. She +was impotent as a child in that awful grip, and in a very few seconds +she knew it. + +He had already wrung his arm free and raised it to strike a second blow, +while she shut her eyes in anguished expectation, still clinging blindly +to his coat, when the door burst open with a crash and Dimsdale tore +into the room. + +Anne heard his coming, but she could not turn. She was waiting with every +nerve stretched and quivering for the thong to fall. And when it did +not, when Dimsdale, with a strength abnormal for his years, flung himself +at the upraised arm and bore it downwards, she was conscious not of +relief, but only of a sudden snapping of that awful tension that was like +a rending asunder of her very being. She relaxed her hold and tottered +back against the wall. + +"He will kill you!" she heard herself saying to Dimsdale. "He will +kill you!" + +But Dimsdale clung like a limpet. Through the surging uproar of her +reeling senses Anne heard his voice. + +"Sir Giles! Sir Giles! This won't do, sir. You've got a bit beyond +yourself. Come along with me, Sir Giles. You are not well. You ought to +be in bed. Now, now, Sir Giles! Give it up! Come! Here's West to help +you undress." + +But Sir Giles fought to be free, cursing hideously, writhing this way and +that with Dimsdale hanging to him; and at sight of the footman hastening +to the old man's assistance he put forth a strength so terrific that he +swung him completely off the ground. + +"He's too much for me!" shouted Dimsdale. "My lady, go--go, for the love +of heaven! Quick, West! Quick! Trip him! It's the only way! Ah!" + +They went down in a fearful, struggling heap. Sir Giles underneath, but +making so violent a fight that the whole room seemed to shake. + +And Anne stood and looked upon the whole ghastly spectacle as one +turned to stone. + +So standing, propped against the wall, she saw the young under-footman +come swiftly in, and had a glimpse of his horrified face as he leapt +forward to join the swaying, heaving mass of figures upon the floor. His +coming seemed to make a difference. Sir Giles's struggles became less +gigantic, became spasmodic, convulsive, futile, finally ceased +altogether. He lay like a dead man, save that his features twitched +horribly as if evil spirits were at work upon him. + +The whole conflict had occupied but a few minutes, but to the rigid +watcher it had been an eternity of fearful tumult. Yet the hard-breathing +silence that followed was almost more terrible still. + +Out of it arose old Dimsdale, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. + +"He didn't hurt your ladyship?" he questioned anxiously. + +But she could not take her eyes from the motionless figure upon the floor +or answer him. + +He drew nearer. "My lady," he said, "come away from here!" + +But Anne never stirred. + +He laid a very humble hand upon her arm. "Let me take you downstairs," he +urged gently. "There's a friend there waiting for your ladyship--a +friend as will understand." + +"A--friend?" She turned her head stiffly, her eyes still striving to +remain fixed upon that mighty, inert form. + +"Yes, my lady. He only came a few minutes back. He is waiting in the +drawing-room. It was Sir Giles he asked to see, said it was very +particular. It was West here took the message to Sir Giles, and I think +it was that as made him come up here so mad like. I came after him as +soon as I heard. But the gentleman is still waiting, my lady. Will you +see him and--explain?" + +"Who is the gentleman?" Anne heard the question, but not as if she +herself had uttered it. The voice that spoke seemed to come from an +immense distance. + +And from equally far seemed to come Dimsdale's answer, though it reached +and pierced her understanding in an instant. + +"It's Mr. Errol, my lady,--the crippled one. Mr. Lucas, I think +his name is." + +Anne turned then as sharply as though a voice had called her. + +"Lucas Errol! Is he here? Ah, take me to him! Take me to him!" + +And the old butler led her thankfully from the scene. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE CITY OF REFUGE + + +The moment Lucas Errol's hand closed upon hers it was to Anne as if an +immense and suffocating weight had been lifted from her, and with it all +her remaining strength crumbled away as if her burden alone had +sustained her. + +She looked at him, meeting the kind, searching eyes without effort, +trying piteously to speak, but her white lips only moved soundlessly, her +throat seemed paralysed. + +"Her ladyship has had a shock, sir," explained Dimsdale. + +"Won't you sit down?" said Lucas gently. In a moment she found herself +sitting on a sofa with this stanch friend of hers beside her, holding her +hand. A few words passed between him and Dimsdale, which she scarcely +heard and was too weak to comprehend, and then they were alone together, +she and Lucas in a silence she felt powerless to break. + +"You mustn't mind me, Lady Carfax," he said. "I know what you have come +through. I understand." + +Dimly she heard the words, but she could not respond to them. She +was shivering, shivering with a violence that she was utterly unable +to repress. + +He did not speak again till Dimsdale came back with a tray, then again he +exchanged a few murmured sentences with the old butler, who presently +said, "Very good, sir," and went softly away. + +Then Lucas turned again to Anne. "Drink this," he said. "It will +revive you." + +She groped for the glass he held towards her, but trembled so much that +she could not take it. + +"Let me," he said, and put it himself to her lips. + +She drank slowly, shuddering, her teeth chattering against the glass. + +"Lay your head down upon the cushion," he said then, "and shut your eyes. +You will be better soon." + +"You--you won't go?" she managed to whisper. + +"Why, no," he said. "It's for your sake I've come. I guess I'm a fixture +for so long as you want me." + +She breathed a sigh of relief and lay back. + +A long time passed. Anne lay motionless with closed eyes, too crushed for +thought. And Lucas Errol watched beside her, grave and patient and still. + +Suddenly there came a sound, piercing the silence, a sound that made Anne +start upright in wild terror. + +"What is it? What is it?" + +Instantly and reassuringly Lucas's hand clasped hers. "Don't be afraid!" +he said. "They are moving him to another room, that's all." + +She sank back, shuddering, her face hidden. The sound continued, seeming +to come nearer--the sound of a man's voice shrieking horribly for help, +in piercing accents of terror that might have come from a +torture-chamber. Suddenly the yells became articulate, resolved into +words: "Anne! Anne! Anne!" in terrible crescendo. + +She sprang up with a sharp cry. + +But on the instant the man beside her spoke. "Anne, you are not to go." + +She paused irresolute. "I must! I must! He is calling me!" + +"You are not to go," he reiterated, and for the first time she heard the +dominant note in his voice. "Come here, child! Come close to me! It will +soon be over." + +Her irresolution passed like a cloud. She looked down, saw his blue eyes +shining straight up at her, kind still, but compelling. And she dropped +upon her knees beside him and hid her face upon his shoulder, with the +cry of, "Help me! Help me! I can't bear it!" + +He folded his arms about her as though he had been a woman, and +held her fast. + +Long after the awful sounds had died away Anne knelt there, sobbing, +utterly unstrung, all her pride laid low, herself no more than a broken, +agonised woman. But gradually, from sheer exhaustion, her sobs became +less anguished, till at length they ceased. A strange peace, wholly +unaccountable, fell gently upon her torn spirit. But even then it was +long before she moved. She felt an overwhelming reluctance to withdraw +herself from the shelter of those quiet arms. + +"What must you think of me?" she whispered at last, her face still +hidden. + +"My dear," he said, "I understand." + +He did not offer to release her, but as she moved she found herself free, +she found herself able to look into his face. + +"I shall never forget your goodness to me," she said very earnestly. + +He smiled a little, after a fashion she did not wholly comprehend. "My +dear Lady Carfax! You underrate friendship when you say a thing like +that. Sit down, won't you? And let me tell you what brought me here." + +"Nap told you--" she hazarded. + +"Yes, Nap told me. And I decided I had better come at once. I wasn't in +when he got back, or I should have been here sooner. I saw there had been +a gross misunderstanding, and I hoped I should be able to get your +husband to take a reasonable view." + +"Ah!" she said, with a shiver. "I--I'm thankful you didn't meet." + +"I am sorry," Lucas said quietly. And though he said no more, she knew +that he was thinking of her. + +"How is Nap?" she ventured hesitatingly. + +"Nap," he said with deliberation, "will be himself again in a very few +weeks. You need have no anxiety for him." + +Again she did not wholly understand his tone. She glanced at him +nervously, half afraid that he was keeping something from her. + +"You really mean that?" + +His eyes met hers, very level and direct. "He is badly battered, of +course. But--he is not quite like other men. He has no nerves to speak of +in a physical sense. He will make a quick recovery. Broken bones mean +very little to a man of his calibre." + +She heard him with relief mingled with a faint wonder at his confidence +on this point. + +"The doctor has seen him?" she asked. + +"Yes; and I have sent my man in the motor to ask him to come on here." + +She shivered again irrepressibly. "Giles hates Dr. Randal." + +"I do not think that will make any difference," Lucas said gently. + +Thereafter they sat together almost in silence, till the buzzing of the +motor told of the doctor's arrival. Then with the aid of a stick Lucas +began to drag himself laboriously to his feet. Anne rose to help him. + +He took her arm, looking at her shrewdly. + +"Lady Carfax, will you let me speak to him alone?" + +"If you wish it," she said. + +"I do wish it." His eyes passed hers suddenly and rested upon the lace at +her neck. In one place it was torn, and the soft flesh was revealed; +revealed also was a long red stripe, swollen and turning. In an instant +his glance fell, but she saw his brows contract as if at a sharp twinge +of pain. "I do wish it," he said again very gently. "P'r'aps you will +wait for me here." + +And with that he relinquished her arm, and made his halting, difficult +way across the room to the door. + +Anne sat down before the fire to wait. She had, to a large extent, +recovered her self-control, but a deadly weariness was upon her which she +found it impossible to shake off. She kept it at bay for a time while she +listened for any sound. But no sound came, and at length exhausted nature +prevailed. + +When Lucas came back she was sunk in her chair asleep. + +He took up his stand near her while he waited for the doctor, and again +that deep furrow showed between his brows. But the eyes that watched her +were soft and tender as a woman's. There was something almost maternal in +their regard, a compassion so deep as to be utterly unconscious of +itself. When the doctor's step sounded at length outside he shuffled away +without disturbing her. + +It was hours later when Anne awoke and sat up with a confused sense of +something wrong. She was still in her easy-chair before the fire, which +burned brightly as ever, while on the other side of the hearth, propped +upright upon cushions and watching her with those steady blue eyes, whose +kindness never varied, was Lucas Errol. + +He spoke to her at once, very softly and gently, as if she had +been a child. + +"I'm real pleased you've had a sleep. You needed it. Don't look so +startled. It's all right--a little late, but that's nothing. Dimsdale +and I agreed that it would be a pity to disturb you. So we let you sleep +on. And he brought in a tray of refreshments to fortify you when you +awoke. He's a thoughtful old chap, Lady Carfax. You're lucky to have +such a servant." + +But Anne scarcely heard him. She was staring at the clock in amazement. +It was half-past three! Just twelve hours since--She repressed a +violent shudder. + +"Don't be shocked any!" besought Lucas in his easy drawl. "I'm often +awake at this hour. I guessed you wouldn't sleep if we woke you to go to +your room, and I didn't quite like the thought of being down here out of +reach. You are not vexed with me, I hope?" + +"No," she said. "I am not vexed." + +But she looked at him very strangely, as if that were not all she +desired to say. + +"Dimsdale has been in and out," he said, "keeping the fire going. He and +one of the others are watching upstairs. But all is quiet there. Sir +Giles has been asleep ever since the doctor left." + +Anne got up slowly. "You look very uncomfortable," she said. + +He smiled up at her. "My dear Lady Carfax, I am all right. The advantage +of this position is that one can rise at a moment's notice." + +As if to demonstrate the truth of this he rose, but not without +considerable effort. + +"Ah, please don't!" she said, putting out a quick, restraining hand. "It +hurts me to see you suffer on my account. It was too kind of you--much +too kind--to stay with me like this. You will never know how much you +have helped me, and I thank you for it with all my heart. Now please sit +down again, and let me wait upon you for a change. Have you had anything +to eat or drink?" + +He sat down again, looking quizzical. "I have been waiting for my hostess +to join me," he said. + +"Do you ever think of yourself at all?" she asked, turning aside to the +tray that Dimsdale's consideration had provided. + +"A great deal more often than you imagine," smiled Lucas. "Must you +really do the waiting? It's very bad for me, you know." + +He joked with her gently through the light repast that followed. And +though she scarcely responded, she let him see her gratitude. + +Finally, he laid aside all pretence of humour and spoke to her very +quietly and gravely of her husband. The doctor thought it advisable to +remove him from the Manor with as little delay as possible. He would +consult her about it in the morning. His brain was without doubt very +seriously affected, and it might take some months to recover. It was +essential that he should be taken away from familiar surroundings and +people whom he knew. + +Anne listened with a whitening face. She asked no questions. Lucas +supplied every detail with the precision that characterised most of his +utterances. Finally he spoke of her position, advised her strongly to +employ an agent for the estate, and promised his help in this or any +other matter in which she might care to avail herself of it. + +He seemed to take it for granted that she would remain at the head of +affairs, and it gradually dawned upon Anne that she could not well do +otherwise. Her presence for a time at least seemed indispensable. The +responsibility had become hers and she could not at that stage shake it +off. Her dream of freedom was over. Of what the future might hold for her +she could not even begin to think. But the present was very clearly +defined. It remained only for her to "do the work that was nearest" as +bravely as she might. + +When Lucas ended she leaned forward and gave him her hand. "I wonder +what I should have done without you," she said. "I believe I should +have gone mad too." + +"No, no, Lady Carfax!" + +She smiled faintly; the tears were standing in her eyes. "Yes, I know. +You don't like to be thanked. But you have been like a mother to me in my +trouble, and--I shall always remember it." + +The blue eyes began to twinkle humorously. The hand that held hers closed +with a very friendly pressure. + +"Well," drawled the kindly American voice, "I'll be shot if that +isn't the kindest thing that anyone ever said to me. And I believe +you meant it too." + +"Yes, I meant it," Anne said. + +And though she smiled also there was genuine feeling in her words. + + + + +PART II + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE JESTER'S RETURN + + +The gradual coming of spring that year was like a benediction after the +prolonged rigour of the frost. The lengthening evenings were wrapped in +pearly mystery, through which the soft rain fell in showers of blessing +upon the waiting earth. To Anne, it was as though a great peace had +descended upon all things, quelling all tumult. She had resolutely taken +up her new burden, which was so infinitely easier than the old, and she +found a strange happiness in the bearing of it. The management of her +husband's estate kept her very fully occupied, so that she had no time +for perplexing problems. She took each day as it came, and each day left +her stronger. + +Once only had she been to Baronmead since the masquerade on the ice. It +was in fulfilment of her promise to Nap, but she had not seen him; and as +the weeks slipped by she began to wonder at his prolonged silence. For +no word of any sort reached her from him. He seemed to have forgotten her +very existence. That he was well again she knew from Lucas, who often +came over in the motor with his mother. + +As his brother had predicted he had made a rapid recovery; but no sooner +was he well than he was gone with a suddenness that surprised no one but +Anne. She concluded that his family knew where he was to be found, but no +news of his whereabouts reached her. Nap was the one subject upon which +neither Mrs. Errol nor her elder son ever expanded, and for some nameless +reason Anne shrank from asking any questions regarding him. She was +convinced that he would return sooner or later. She was convinced that, +whatever appearances might be, he had not relinquished the bond of +friendship that linked them. She did not understand him. She believed him +to be headlong and fiercely passionate, but beneath all there seemed to +her to be a certain stability, a tenacity of purpose, that no +circumstance, however tragic, could thwart. She knew, deep in the heart +of her she knew, that he would come back. + +She would not spend much thought upon him in those days. Something +stood ever in the path of thought. Invariably she encountered it, and +as invariably she turned aside, counting her new peace as too precious +to hazard. + +Meanwhile she went her quiet way, sometimes aided by Lucas, but more +often settling her affairs alone, neither attempting nor desiring to +look into the future. + +The news of Sir Giles's illness spread rapidly through the neighbourhood, +and people began to be very kind to her. She knew no one intimately. Her +husband's churlishness had deprived her of almost all social intercourse, +but never before had she realised how completely he was held responsible +for her aloofness. + +Privately, she would have preferred to maintain her seclusion, but it was +not in her to be ungracious. She felt bound to accept the ready sympathy +extended to her. It touched her, even though, had the choice been hers, +she would have done without it. Lucas also urged her in his kindly +fashion not to lead a hermit's existence. Mrs. Errol was insistent upon +the point. + +"Don't you do it, dear," was her exhortation. "There may not be much good +to be got out of society, I'll admit. But it's one better than solitude. +Don't you shut yourself up and fret. I reckon the Lord didn't herd us +together for nothing, and it's His scheme of creation anyway." + +And so Anne tried to be cordial; with the result that on a certain +morning in early May there reached her a short friendly note from Mrs. +Damer, wife of the M.F.H., begging her to dine with them quite informally +on the following night. + +"There will only be a few of us, all intimate friends," the note said. +"Do come. I have been longing to ask you for such an age." + +Anne's brows drew together a little over the note. She had always liked +Mrs. Damer, but her taste for dinner-parties was a minus quantity. Yet +she knew that the invitation had been sent in sheer kindness. Mrs. Damer +was always kind to everyone, and it was not the fashion among her circle +of friends to disappoint her. + +Anne considered the matter, contemplated an excuse, finally rejected it, +and wrote an acceptance. + +She wore the dress of shimmering green in which she had appeared at the +Hunt Ball. Vividly the memory of that night swept across her. She had not +worn it since, and scarcely knew what impulse moved her to don it now. It +well became her stately figure. Dimsdale, awaiting her departure at the +hall-door, looked at her with the admiring reverence he might have +bestowed upon a queen. + +Again, during her drive through the dark, the memory of that winter night +flashed back upon her. She recalled that smooth, noiseless journey in +which she had seemed to be borne upon wings. She recalled her misery and +her weariness, her dream and her awakening. Nap had been very good to her +that night. He had won her confidence, her gratitude, her friendship. His +reputation notwithstanding, she had trusted him fully, and she had not +found him wanting. A faint sigh rose to her lips. She was beginning to +miss this friend of hers. + +But the next moment she had drawn back sharply and swiftly, as if she +had encountered an angel with a flaming sword. This was the path down +which she would not wander. Why should she wish to do so? There were so +many other paths open to her now. + +When she stepped at length from the carriage her face was serene and +quiet as the soft spring night behind her. + +Upstairs she encountered the doctor's wife patting her hair before a +mirror. She turned at Anne's entrance. + +"Why, Lady Carfax! This is indeed a pleasure. I am so glad to see +you here." + +There was genuine pleasure in her voice, and Anne remembered with a smile +that Mrs. Randal liked her. + +They chatted as she removed her wraps, and finally descended together, +Mrs. Randal turning at the head of the stairs to whisper: "There's that +horrid old gossip, Major Shirley. I know he will fall to my lot. He +always does. How shall I direct the conversation into safe channels?" + +Anne could only shake her head. She knew that Mrs. Randal was not +celebrated for discretion. + +Entering the drawing-room, they found Major Shirley with his wife and +daughter, Ralph and Dot Waring, and the doctor, assembled with their host +and hostess. + +Mrs. Damer glanced at the clock after greeting them. "The Errols +are late." + +Anne chanced to be speaking to Dot at the moment, and the girl's magic +change of countenance called her attention to the words. She wondered if +her own face changed, and became uneasily aware of a sudden quickening of +the heart. Quietly she passed on to speak to the Shirleys. The major +looked her up and down briefly and offensively as his manner was, and she +escaped from his vicinity as speedily as possible. His wife, a powdered, +elderly lady, sought to detain her, but after a few moments Anne very +gently detached herself, accepting the seat which young Ralph Waring +eagerly offered her. + +There followed a somewhat lengthy and by no means easy pause. +Conversation was spasmodic. Everyone was listening for the arrival of the +last guests, and when after some minutes there came the rush of wheels +under the window and the loud hoot of a motor everyone jumped. Mrs. +Damer, who had talked hard through the silences, made no comment but +looked unutterably relieved. + +Dot openly and eagerly watched the door, and Anne with a conscious effort +suppressed an inclination to do likewise. + +When it opened she looked up quite naturally, and surely no one suspected +the wild leaping of her heart. + +Nap entered--sleek, trim, complacent; followed by Bertie, whose brown +face looked unmistakably sullen. + +"Sorry we are late," drawled Nap, "Bertie will make our excuses." + +But Bertie said nothing, and it was left to Mrs. Damer to step into +the breach. + +She did so quite gallantly, if somewhat clumsily. "I am very pleased to +see you, Nap; but, you know, it was your brother whom we expected. I +didn't so much as know that you were at home." + +"Oh, quite so," smiled Nap. "Don't apologise--please!" He bent slightly +over her hand. "So good of you not to mind the exchange. I know I am a +poor substitute. But my brother is entertaining an old friend who has +arrived unexpectedly, so I persuaded him to send me in his place. He +charged me with all manner of excuses and apologies, which I have not +delivered since I know them to be unnecessary." + +Mrs. Damer found it impossible not to smile at his calm effrontery, even +though she knew Major Shirley to be frowning behind her back. + +"When did you return?" she asked. "Someone said you were in the States." + +"I was," said Nap. "I returned half an hour ago; hence our late arrival, +for which I humbly beg to apologise, and to entreat you not to blame +Bertie, who, as you perceive, is still speechless with suspense." + +"Oh, you Americans!" laughed Mrs. Damer. "You are never at a loss. Do let +us go in to dinner. No, Nap! The doctor will take me. Will you take Miss +Waring? But you won't be able to sit together. You have disarranged all +my plans, so I shall treat you as of no importance." + +"Miss Waring won't quarrel with either you or me on that account," +commented Nap, as he offered his arm to the rector's daughter with +ironical courtesy. "Come along, Miss Waring! Shut your eyes and bolt me. +It will soon be over." + +Dot was young enough to make a face at him, but the hard stare with which +he countered it reduced her almost instantly to confusion. Whereupon he +transferred his attention and looked at her no more. + +But compensation was in store for her, for at the dinner-table she found +herself placed between Bertie and the doctor, a pleasing situation in +which she speedily recovered her spirits, since the doctor talked to his +hostess, and Bertie's partner, Mrs. Shirley, strenuously occupied the +attention of her host, who was seated on her other side. + +Major Shirley fell as usual to Mrs. Randal, over which circumstance Anne, +catching a tragic glance from the latter, failed somewhat conspicuously +to repress a smile. + +"Yes, it's mighty funny, isn't it?" said Nap, and with a sharp start she +discovered that he was seated upon her right. + +"I--didn't see you," she faltered. + +"No?" he said coolly. "Well, it's all right. I was told to sit +here--obviously decreed by the gods. You'll think me uncanny if I tell +you that it was just this that I came for." + +"You are uncanny," she said. + +He made her a brief bow. It seemed to her that a mocking spirit gleamed +in his eyes. She had never felt less confident of him, less at her ease +with him, than at that moment. She felt as if in some subtle fashion, +wholly beyond her comprehension, he were playing some deep-laid game, as +if he were weaving some intricate web too secret and too intangible to be +understood or grappled with. Upon one point only was she quite clear. He +would suffer no reference to their last meeting. Whatever the effect of +that terrible punishment upon him, he did not choose that she should see +it. She had seen him in the utmost extremity of his humiliation, but she +should never see the scars that were left. + +This much of his attitude she could understand, and understanding could +pardon that part which baffled her. But she could not feel at her ease. + +"And so you are afraid," said Nap. "That's a new thing for you." + +She glanced round the table. In the general hubbub of talk they were as +isolated as though they were actually alone together. + +"No," she said. "Why should I be afraid? But--I feel as if I am talking +to--a stranger." + +"Perhaps you are," said Nap. + +He uttered a laugh she could not fathom, and then with a certain +recklessness: "Permit me to present to your majesty," he said, "the Knave +of Diamonds!" + +There was that in his tone that hurt her vaguely, little as she +understood it. She smiled with a hint of wistfulness. + +"Surely I have met him before!" she said. + +"Without knowing him," said Nap. + +"No," she maintained. "I have known him for a long while now. I believe +him to be my very good friend." + +"What?" he said. + +She glanced at him, half startled by the brief query; but instantly she +looked away again with a curious, tingling sense of shock. For it was to +her as though she had looked into the heart of a consuming fire. + +"Aren't you rather behind the times?" he drawled. "That was--as you +say--a long while ago." + +The shock passed, leaving her strangely giddy, as one on the edge of +inconceivable depth. She could say no word in answer. She was utterly and +hopelessly at a loss. + +With scarcely a pause Nap turned to Violet Shirley, who was seated on his +right, and plunged without preliminary into a gay flirtation to which all +the world was at liberty to listen if it could not approve. Ralph Waring, +thus deprived of his rightful partner, solaced himself with Mrs. Randal, +who was always easy to please; and the major on her other side relapsed +into bearish gloom. + +It was with unspeakable relief that Anne rose at length from that +dinner-table. She had a deep longing to escape altogether, to go back to +the quiet Manor, where at least all was peace. He had hurt her more +subtly than she could have deemed possible. Had his friendship really +meant so much to her? Or was it only her pride that suffered to think he +valued hers so lightly? It seemed that he was fickle then, fickle as +everyone declared him to be. And yet in her heart she did not for a +moment believe it. That single glimpse she had had, past the gibing devil +in his eyes, deep into the man himself, had told her something different. + +He hated her then, he hated her as the cause of his downfall. This seemed +the more likely. And yet--and yet--did she really believe this either? + +"Dear Lady Carfax, do play to us!" urged her hostess. "It will be such a +treat to hear you." + +She rose half-mechanically and went to the piano, struck a few chords and +began to play, still so deep in her maze of conjecture that she hardly +knew what she had chosen. + +Mrs. Randal came to sit near her. Mrs. Shirley edged close to Mrs. Damer +and began to whisper. The two girls went softly into the conservatory. + +Anne's fingers played on. Now and then Mrs. Randal spoke to her, thanked +her or begged her to continue. But presently she moved away and Anne did +not miss her. She was far too deeply engrossed in her own thoughts. + +"Lady Carfax!" + +She started, every nerve suddenly on the alert. + +"Don't stop playing!" he said, and as it were involuntarily she +continued to play. + +"I am coming to see you to-morrow," he went on. "What time would you like +me to call?" + +She was silent. But the blood had risen in a great wave to her face and +neck. She could feel it racing in every vein. + +"Won't you answer me?" he said. "Won't you fix a time?" + +There was that in his voice that made her long earnestly to see his face, +but she could not. With a great effort she answered: + +"I am generally at home in the afternoon." + +"Then will you be out to the rest of the world?" he said. + +She stilled the wild tumult of her heart with desperate resolution. "I +think you must take your chance of that." + +"I am not taking any chances," he said. "I will come at the fashionable +hour if you prefer it. But--" + +He left the sentence unfinished with a significance that was more +imperious than a definite command. + +Anne's fingers were trembling over the keys. Sudden uncertainty seized +her. She forgot what she was playing, forgot all in the overwhelming +desire to see his face. She muffled her confusion in a few soft chords +and turned round. + +He was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE KERNEL OF THE DIFFICULTY + + +"I want to know!" said Capper, with extreme deliberation. + +He was the best-known surgeon in the United States, and he looked like +nothing so much as a seedy Evangelical parson. Hair, face, beard, all +bore the same distinguishing qualities, were long and thin and yellow. +He sat coiled like a much-knotted piece of string, and he seemed to +possess the power of moving any joint in his body independently of the +rest. He cracked his fingers persistently when he talked after a fashion +that would have been intolerable in anyone but Capper. His hands were +always in some ungainly attitude, and yet they were wonderful hands, +strong and sensitive, the colour of ivory. His eyes were small and +green, sharp as the eyes of a lizard. They seemed to take in everything +and divulge nothing. + +"What do you want to know?" said Lucas. + +He was lying in bed with the spring sunshine full upon him. His eyes were +drawn a little. He had just undergone a lengthy examination at the hands +of the great doctor. + +"Many things," said Capper, somewhat snappishly. "Chief among them, why +your tomfool brother--you call him your brother, I suppose?--brought me +over here on a fool's errand." + +"He is my brother," said Lucas quietly. "And why a fool's errand? Is +there something about my case you don't like?" + +"There is nothing whatever," said Capper, with an exasperated tug at his +pointed beard. "I could make a sound man of you. It wouldn't be easy. +But I could do it--given one thing, which I shan't get. Is the sun +bothering you?" + +He suddenly left his chair, bent over and with infinite gentleness raised +his patient to an easier posture and drew forward the curtain. + +"I guess I won't talk to you now," he said. "I've given you as much as +you can stand and then some already. How's that? Is it comfort?" + +"Absolute," Lucas said with a smile. "Don't go, doctor. I am quite able +to talk. I suppose matters haven't altered very materially since you +saw me last?" + +"I don't see why you should suppose that," said Capper. "As a matter of +fact things have altered--altered considerably. Say, you don't have those +fainting attacks any more?" + +"No. I've learnt not to faint." There was a boyishly pathetic note about +the words though the lips that uttered them still smiled. + +Capper nodded comprehendingly. "But the pain is just as infernal, eh? +Only you've the grit to stand against it. Remember the last time I +overhauled you? You fainted twice. That's how I knew you would never face +it. But I've hurt you worse to-day, and I'm damned if I know how you +managed to come up smiling." + +"Then why do you surmise that you have been brought here on a fool's +errand?" Lucas asked. + +"I don't surmise," said Capper. "I never surmise. I know." He began to +crack his fingers impatiently, and presently fell to whistling below his +breath. "No," he said suddenly, "you've got the physical strength and +you've got the spunk to lick creation, but what you haven't got is zeal. +You're gallant enough, Heaven knows, but you are not keen. You are +passive, you are lethargic. And you ought to be in a fever!" + +His fingers dropped abruptly upon Lucas's wrist, and tightened upon it. +"That brother of yours that you're so fond of, now if it were he, I could +pull him out of the very jaws of hell. He'd catch and hold. But you--you +are too near the other place to care. Say, you don't care, do you, not a +single red cent? It's all one to you--under Providence--whether you live +or die. And if I operated on you to-morrow you'd die--not at once, but +sooner or later--from sheer lack of enthusiasm. That's my difficulty. +It's too long a business. You would never keep it up." + +Lucas did not immediately reply. He lay in the stillness habitual to +him, gazing with heavy eyes at the motes that danced in the sunshine. + +"I guess I'm too old, doctor," he said at last. "But you are wrong in one +sense. I do care. I don't want to die at present." + +"Private reasons?" demanded Capper keenly. + +"Not particularly. You see, I am the head of the family. I hold myself +responsible. My brothers want looking after, more or less." + +"Brothers!" sniffed Capper, with supreme contempt. "That +consideration wouldn't keep you out of heaven. It's only another +reason for holding back." + +"Exactly," Lucas said quietly. "I don't know what Nap will say to me. He +will call me a shirker. But on the whole, doctor, I think I must hold +back a little longer." + +"He'd better let me hear him!" growled Capper. "I wish to heaven you +were married. That's the kernel of the difficulty. You want a wife. +You'd be keen enough then. I shouldn't be afraid of your letting go when +I wasn't looking." + +"Ah!" Lucas said, faintly smiling. "But what of the wife?" + +"She'd be in her element," maintained Capper stoutly. "She'd be to you +what the mainspring is to a watch, and glory in it. Haven't you seen such +women? I have, scores of 'em, ready made for the purpose. No, you will +only go through my treatment with a woman to hold you up. It's a process +that needs the utmost vitality, the utmost courage, and--something great +to live for--a motive power behind to push you on. There's only one +motive power that I can think of strong enough to keep you moving. And +that is most unfortunately absent. Find the woman, I tell you, find the +woman! And--under Providence--I'll do the rest!" + +He dropped back in his chair, cracking his fingers fiercely, his keen +eyes narrowly observant of every shade of expression on his patient's +face. + +Lucas was still smiling, but his eyes had grown absent. He looked +unutterably tired. + +"Yes," he said slowly at length. "I am afraid you have asked the +impossible of me now. But, notwithstanding that, if I could see my way +to it, I would place myself in your hands without reservation--and take +my chance. There are times now and then--now and then--" his words +quickened a little, "when a man would almost give the very soul out of +his body to be at peace--to be at peace; times when it's downright agony +to watch a fly buzzing up and down the pane and know he hasn't even the +strength for that--when every muscle is in torture, and every movement +means hell--" He broke off; his lips usually so steady had begun to +twitch. "I'm a fool, Capper," he murmured apologetically. "Make +allowances for a sick man!" + +"Look here!" said Capper. "This is a big decision for you to make +off-hand. You can take three months anyway to think it over. You are +getting stronger, you know. By then you'll be stronger still. You won't +be well. Nothing but surgical measures can ever make you well. And you'll +go on suffering that infernal pain. But three months one way or another +won't make much difference. I am due in London in September for the +Schultz Medical Conference. I'll run over then and see if you've made up +your mind." + +"Will you, doctor? That's real kind of you." Lucas's eyes brightened. He +stretched out a hand which Capper grasped and laid gently down. "And if +you undertake the job--" + +"If you are fit to go through it," Capper broke in, "I'll do it right +away before I leave. You'll spend the winter on your back. And in the +spring I'll come again and finish the business. That second operation is +a more delicate affair than the first, but I don't consider it more +dangerous. By this time next year, or soon after, you'll be walking like +an ordinary human being. I'll have you as lissom as an Indian." + +He cracked his fingers one after the other in quick succession and rose. +A moment he stood looking down at the smooth face that had flushed +unwontedly at his words; then bending, he lightly tapped his patient's +chest. "Meanwhile, my friend," he said, "you keep a stiff upper lip, and +_cherchez la femme--cherchez la femme toujours_! You'll be a sound man +some day and she won't mind waiting if she's the right sort." + +"Ah!" Lucas said. "You will have to forego that condition, doctor. I am +no ladies' man. Shall I tell you what a woman said to me the other day?" + +"Well?" + +"That I was like a mother to her." Again without much mirth he smiled. +His lips were steady enough now. + +"I should like to meet that woman," said Capper. + +"Why?" + +The doctor's hand sought his beard. "P'r'aps she'd tell me I was like a +father. Who knows?" + +Lucas looked at him curiously. "Are you fond of women?" + +"I adore them," said Capper without enthusiasm. He never satisfied +curiosity. + +Lucas's eyes fell away baffled. "I'll take you to see her this afternoon +if you can spare the time," he said. + +"Oh, I can spend the afternoon philandering so long as I catch the night +train to Liverpool," Capper answered promptly. "Meanwhile you must get a +rest while I go and take a dose of air and sunshine in the yard." + +His straight, gaunt figure passed to the door, opened it, and disappeared +with a directness wholly at variance with his lack of repose when seated. + +As for Lucas, he lay quite still for a long while, steadily watching the +motes that danced and swam giddily in the sunshine. + +Nearly half an hour went by before he stirred at all. And then a heavy +sigh burst suddenly from him, shaking his whole body, sending a flicker +of pain across his drooping eyelids. + +"_Cherchez la femme_!" he said to himself. And again with a quivering +smile, "_Cherchez la femme_! God knows she isn't far to seek. But--my +dear--my dear!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE FIRST ORDEAL + + +All the birds in the Manor garden were singing on that afternoon in May. +The fruit trees were in bloom. The air was full of the indescribable +fragrance of bursting flowers. There was no single note of sadness in all +the splendid day. But the woman who paced slowly to and fro under the +opening lilacs because she could not rest knew nothing of its sweetness. + +The precious peace of the past few weeks had been snatched from her. She +was face to face once more with the problem that had confronted her for a +few horror-stricken minutes on that awful evening in March. Then she had +thrust it from her. Since she had resolutely turned her back upon it. But +to-day it was with her, and there was no escaping it. It glared at her +whichever way she turned, a monster of destruction waiting to devour. And +she was afraid, horribly, unspeakably afraid, with a fear that was +neither physical nor cowardly, yet which set her very soul a-trembling. + +Restlessly she wandered up and down, up and down. It was a day for +dreams, but she was terribly and tragically awake. + +When Nap Errol came to her at length with his quick, light tread that was +wary and noiseless as a cat's, she knew of his coming long before he +reached her, was vividly, painfully aware of him before she turned to +look. Yesterday she had longed to look him in the face, but to-day she +felt she dared not. + +Slim and active he moved across the grass, and there came to her ears a +slight jingle of spurs. He had ridden then. A sudden memory of the man's +free insolence in the saddle swept over her, his domination, his +imperial arrogance. Turning to meet him, she knew that she was quivering +from head to foot. + +He came straight up to her, halted before her. "Have you no welcome for +me?" he said. + +By sheer physical effort she compelled herself to face him, to meet the +fierce, challenging scrutiny which she knew awaited her. She held out her +hand to him. "I am always glad to see you, Nap," she said. + +He took her hand in a sinewy, compelling grip. "Although you prefer good +men," he said. + +The ground on which she stood seemed to be shaking, yet she forced +herself to smile, ignoring his words. + +"Let us go and sit down," she said. + +Close by was a seat under a great lilac tree in full purple bloom. She +moved to it and sat down, but Nap remained upon his feet, watching +her still. + +The air was laden with perfume--the wonderful indescribable essences of +spring. Away in the distance, faintly heard, arose the bleating of lambs. +Near at hand, throned among the purple flowers above their heads, a +thrush was pouring out the rapture that thrilled his tiny life. The whole +world pulsed to the one great melody--the universal, wordless song. Only +the man and the woman were silent as intruders in a sacred place. + +Anne moved at last. She looked up very steadily, and spoke. "It seems +like holy ground," she said. + +Her voice was hushed, yet it had in it a note of pleading. Her eyes +besought him. + +And in answer Nap leaned down with a sudden, tigerish movement and laid +his hand on hers. "What have I to do with holiness?" he said. "Anne, come +down from that high pedestal of yours! I'm tired of worshipping a +goddess. I want a woman--a woman! I shall worship you none the less +because I hold you in my arms." + +It was done. The spell was broken. Those quick, passionate words had +swept away her last hope of escape. She was forced to meet him face to +face, to meet him and to do battle. + +For a long second she sat quite still, almost as if stunned. Then sharply +she turned her face aside, as one turns from the unbearable heat and +radiance when the door of a blast-furnace is suddenly opened. + +"Oh, Nap," she said, and there was a sound of heart-break in her words, +"What a pity! What a pity!" + +"Why?" he demanded fiercely. "I have the right to speak--to claim my own. +Are you going to deny it--you who always speak the truth?" + +"You have no right," she answered, still with her face averted. "No man +has ever the faintest right to say to another man's wife what you have +just said to me." + +"And you think I will give you up," he said, "for that?" + +She did not at once reply. Only after a moment she freed her hands from +his hold, and the action seemed to give her strength. She spoke, her +voice very clear and resolute. "I am not going to say anything unkind to +you. You have already borne too much for my sake. But--you must know that +this is the end of everything. It is the dividing of the ways--where we +must say good-bye." + +"Is it?" he said. He looked down at her with his brief, thin-lipped +smile. "Then--if that's so--look at me--look at me, Anne, and tell me +that you don't love me!" + +She made an almost convulsive gesture of protest and sat silent. + +For a little he waited. Then, "That being so," he said very deliberately, +"there is no power on earth--I swear--I swear--that shall ultimately +come between us!" + +"Oh, hush!" she said. "Hush!" She turned towards him, her face white +and agitated. "I will not listen to you, Nap. I cannot listen to you! +You must go." + +She stretched a hand towards him appealingly, and he caught it, crushing +it against his breast. For a moment he seemed about to kneel, and then he +altered his purpose and drew her to her feet. Again she was aware of that +subtle, mysterious force within him, battling with her, seeking to +dominate, to conquer, to overwhelm her. Again there came to her that +sense of depth, depth unutterable, appalling. She seemed to totter on the +very edge of the pit of destruction. + +Very quietly at length his voice came to her. It held just a touch of +ridicule. "What! Still doing sacrifice to the great god Convention? My +dear girl, but you are preposterous! Do you seriously believe that I will +suffer that drunken maniac to come between us--now?" + +He flung his head back with the words. His fiery eyes seemed to scorch +her. And overhead the rapturous bird-voice pealed forth a perfect paean +of victory. + +But Anne stood rigid, unresponsive as an image of stone. "He is my +husband," she said. + +She felt his hand tighten upon hers, till the pressure was almost more +than she could endure. "You never felt a spark of love for him!" he said. +"You married him--curse him!--against your will!" + +"Nevertheless, I married him," she said. + +He showed his teeth for a moment, and was silent. Then imperiously he +swept up his forces for the charge. "These things are provided for in the +States," he said. "If you won't come to me without the sanction of the +law, I will wait while you get it. I will wait till you are free--till I +can make you my lawful wife. That's a fair offer anyway." He began to +smile. "See what a slave you have made of me!" he said. "I've never +offered any woman marriage before." + +But Anne broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Oh, don't you know me better +than that?" she said. "Nap, I am not the sort of woman to throw off the +yoke like that. It is true that I never loved him, and I do not think +that I shall ever live with him again. But still--I married him, and +while he lives I shall never be free--never, never!" + +"Yet you are mine," he said. + +"No--no!" + +She sought to free her hand, but he kept it. "Look at me!" he said. "Do +you remember that day in March--the day you saw me whipped like a dog?" + +Involuntarily she raised her eyes to his. "Oh, don't!" she whispered, +shuddering. "Don't!" + +But he persisted. "You felt that thrashing far more than I did, though it +made a murderer of me. You were furious for my sake. Did you never ask +yourself why?" Then in a lower voice, bending towards her, "Do you think +I didn't know the moment I saw your face above mine? Do you think I +didn't feel the love in your arms, holding me up? Do you think it isn't +in your eyes--even now?" + +"Oh, hush!" she said again piteously. "Nap, you are hurting me. I cannot +bear it. Even if it were so, love--true love--is a sacred thing--not to +be turned into sin." + +"Sin!" he said. "What is sin? Is it sin to fulfil the very purpose for +which you were created?" + +But at that she winced so sharply that he knew he had gone too far. +It was characteristic of the man that he made no attempt to recover +lost ground. + +"I'm a wicked pagan no doubt," he said, with a touch of recklessness. +"Everyone will tell you so. I fancy I've told you so myself more than +once. Yet you needn't shrink as if I were unclean. I have done nothing +that you would hate me for since I have known you." + +He paused and seemed to listen, then very quietly released her hand. A +curious expression flickered across his face as he did so, and a little +chill went through her. It was like the closing of the furnace door. + +"I am going," he said. "But I shall come back--I shall come back." His +smile, sudden and magnetic, gleamed for an instant and was gone. + +"Do you remember the missing heart?" he said "There are some things that +I never forget." + +And so, without farewell, he turned and left her, moving swiftly and +easily over the grass. She heard the jingle of his spurs, but no sound of +any footfall as he went. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FATAL STREAK + + +"My lady!" + +Anne looked up with a start. She had been sitting with closed eyes under +the lilac tree. + +Dimsdale, discreet and deferential as ever, stood before her. + +"Mr. Lucas Errol is here," he told her, "with another gentleman. I knew +your ladyship would wish to be at home to him." + +"Oh, certainly," she answered, rising. "I am always at home to Mr. Lucas +Errol. Please tell him I am coming immediately." + +But she did not instantly follow Dimsdale. She stood instead quite +motionless, with her face to the sky, breathing deeply. + +When she turned at length she had recovered all her customary serenity. +With the quiet dignity peculiar to her, she passed up the garden path, +leaving the thrush still singing, singing, singing, behind her. + +She found her visitors in the drawing-room, which she entered by the +open window. Lucas greeted her with his quiet smile and introduced +Capper--"a very great friend of mine, and incidentally the finest +doctor in the U.S.A." + +She shook hands with the great man, feeling the small green eyes running +over her, and conscious that she blushed under their scrutiny. She +wondered why, with a vague feeling of resentment. She also wondered what +had moved Lucas to bring him. + +As she sat at the tea-table and dispensed hospitality to her guests it +was Lucas who kept the conversation going. She thought he seemed in +wonderful spirits despite the heavy droop of his eyelids. + +Capper sat in almost unbroken silence, studying his hostess so +perpetually that Anne's nerves began to creak at last under the strain. + +Quite suddenly at length he set down his cup. "Lady Carfax," he said +abruptly, "I'm told you have a herb garden, and I'm just mad on herbs. +Will you take me to see it while Lucas enjoys a much-needed and +well-earned rest?" + +Anne glanced up in surprise. They were almost the first words he had +spoken. Capper was already upon his feet. He stood impatiently cracking +his fingers one by one. + +She rose. "Of course I will do so with pleasure if Mr. Errol +doesn't mind." + +"Certainly not, Lady Carfax," smiled Lucas. "I am extremely comfortable. +Pray give him what he wants. It is the only way to pacify him." + +Anne smiled and turned to the window. They went out together into the +golden spring evening. + +The herb garden was some distance from the house. Capper strode along in +silence, with bent brows. More than ever Anne wondered what had brought +him. She did not try to make conversation for him, realising by instinct +that such effort would be vain as well as unwelcome. She merely walked +quietly beside him, directing their steps whither he had desired to go. + +They were out of sight of the house before he spoke. "Say, madam, +I'm told you know the Errol family off by heart without needing to +look 'em up." + +She glanced at him in surprise. "Of course I know them. Yes, I know +them all." + +"Well?" he demanded. + +"Oh, quite well." Almost involuntarily she began to explain the intimacy. +"I was taken to their house after a hunting accident, and I was an +invalid there for several weeks." + +"That so?" Again piercingly the American's eyes scanned her. "You're real +friendly then? With which in particular?" + +She hesitated momentarily. Then, "I am very fond of Mrs. Errol," she +said, speaking very quietly. "But Nap was my first friend, and +afterwards Lucas--" + +"Oh, Nap!" + +There was such withering contempt in the exclamation that she had +perforce to remark it. + +"Nap is evidently no favourite with you," she said. + +He raised his brows till they nearly met his hair. "Nap, my dear lady," +he drily observed, "is doubtless all right in his own sphere. It isn't +mine, and it isn't yours. I came over to this country at his request and +in his company, and a queerer devil it has never been my lot to +encounter. But what can you expect? I've never yet seen him in a blanket +and moccasins, but I imagine that he'd be considerably preferable that +way. I guess he's just a fish out of water on this side of civilisation." + +"What can you mean?" Anne said. + +For the second time that afternoon she felt as if the ground beneath her +had begun to tremble. She looked up at him with troubled eyes. Surely the +whole world was rocking! + +"I mean what I say, madam," he told her curtly. "It's a habit of mine. +There is a powerful streak of red in Nap Errol's blood, or I am much +mistaken." + +"Ah!" Anne said, and that was all. In a flash she understood him. She +felt as if he had performed some ruthless operation upon her, and she was +too exhausted to say more. Unconsciously her hand pressed her heart. It +was beating strangely, spasmodically; sometimes it did not beat at all. +For she knew beyond all doubting that what he said was true. + +"I don't say the fellow is an out-and-out savage," Capper was saying. +"P'r'aps he'd be more tolerable if he were. But the fatal streak is +there. Never noticed it? I thought you women noticed everything. Oh, I +can tell you he's made things hum on our side more times than I've +troubled to count. Talk of the devil in New York and you very soon find +the conversation drifting round to Nap Errol. Now and then he has a lapse +into sheer savagery, and then there is no controlling him. It's just as +the fit takes him. He's never to be trusted. It's an ineradicable taint." + +She shivered at the words, but still she did not speak. + +Capper went unconcernedly on. "I fancy Lucas once thought he was going to +make a gentleman of him. A gentleman, ye gods! Teach a tiger to sit up +and beg! He has a most amazing patience, but I guess even he realises by +now that the beast is untamable. Mrs. Errol saw it long ago. There's a +fine woman for you--A.1., gilt-edged, quality of the best. You know Mrs. +Errol, you say?" + +"Yes, I know her." Anne heard the words, but was not conscious of +uttering them. + +Capper gave her a single straight look. "You wouldn't think, would you," +said he, "that that woman carries a broken heart about with her? But I +assure you that's so. Nap Errol was the tragedy of her life." + +That quickened her to interest. She was conscious of a gradual sinking +downwards of her dismay till it came to rest somewhere deep in her inmost +soul, leaving the surface free for other impressions. + +"He came out of nowhere," Capper went on. "She never tried to account for +him. He was her husband's son. She made him hers. But he's been a tiger's +cub all his life, a hurricane, a firebrand. He and Bertie are usually at +daggers drawn and Lucas spends his time keeping the peace; which is about +as wearing an occupation for a sick man as I can imagine. I want to put a +stop to it, Lady Carfax. I speak as one family friend to another. Lucas +seems to like you. I believe you could make him see reason if you took +the trouble. Women are proverbially ingenious." + +Anne's faint smile showed for a moment. They had entered the herb garden +and were passing slowly down the central path. It was a small enclosure +surrounded by clipped yew hedges and intersected by green walks. The +evening sunlight slanting down upon her, had turned her brown hair to +ruddiest gold. There was no agitation about her now. The grey eyes were +gravely thoughtful. + +She bent presently to pluck a sprig of rosemary. "Will you tell me," she +said, "what it is that you want to do?" + +Capper shot her a keen side-glance. "I want to cure him," he said. "I +want to make a whole man of him." + +"Could you?" she asked. + +"I could." Abruptly Capper stopped. His yellow face was curiously aglow. +"I say I could," he asserted almost fiercely, "if I could choose my +conditions. If I could banish that pestilent brother of his, if I could +rouse him to something like energy, if I could turn his will in one +direction only, I could do it. Given his whole-hearted co-operation, I +could do it. Without it, I am powerless. He would simply die of +inanition." + +"It would mean an operation then? A very serious one?" Anne had paused +upon the green path. Her eyes sought Capper's. + +He answered her with curt directness. "My dear lady, it would mean not +one, but two. I won't trouble you with technical details which you +wouldn't understand. Put briefly, it would mean in the first place a +pulling down and in the second a building up. Both operations would be a +serious tax upon his strength, but I am satisfied that he has the +strength for both. Six months would elapse between the two, and during +that time he would be flat on his back. If he could hold on for those six +months he would come through all right. Of that I am convinced. But those +six months are my stumbling-block. Freedom from all anxiety is essential. +He wants a stanch friend continually beside him to keep him cheery and at +peace. That fellow Nap is the principle obstacle. He stirs up hell and +tommy wherever he goes, and he's never absent for long. Lucas himself +admits that his brothers are a care to him. Oh, it's all an infernal +tangle. I sometimes think family ties are the very deuce." + +Capper tugged at his beard with restless fingers and ground his heel +into the turf. + +"If you consider Nap an obstacle--why don't you speak to him?" Anne asked +in her quiet voice. + +Capper shrugged his shoulders. "He hates me--and small wonder! I've told +him the brutal truth too often." + +Anne passed the matter by. "And Lucas does not wish to undergo the +operation?" + +"That's just the infernal part of it!" burst forth Capper. "He would +undergo it to-morrow if he didn't consider himself indispensable to these +young whelps. But that isn't all. Lady Carfax, he wants help. He wants +someone strong to stand by. I believe you could do it--if you would. You +are the sort of woman that men turn to in trouble. I've been watching +you. I know." + +Again very faintly Anne smiled, with more of patience than amusement. +"Dr. Capper, has Lucas been telling you about me?" + +Capper thrust out a hand. "Yes." + +"You know how I am situated?" she questioned. + +"I do." There was no sympathy in Capper's voice or face; only in the +grasp of his hand. + +"And you think I could be of use to him?" + +"I don't think," said Capper. "I know." He released her hand as abruptly +as he had taken it. His long fingers began to curve and crack +mechanically. "I'll tell you something," he said. "Don't know why I +should, but I will. I love Lucas Errol as if he were my son." + +"Ah!" Anne said gently. "I think we all love him in our different ways." + +"That so?" said the American keenly. "Then I shall leave the matter in +your charge, Lady Carfax. I can see you're a capable woman. I'm coming +back in September to perform that operation. You will have a willing +patient ready for me--by willing I mean something gayer than +resigned--and my bugbear, Nap--that most lurid specimen of civilised +devilry--hunting scalps on the other side of the Atlantic." + +"Oh, I don't know!" Anne said quickly. "I don't know!" + +She spoke breathlessly, as one suddenly plunged into a strong current. +Her face was bent over the sprig of rosemary which she was threading in +her dress. Her fingers were trembling. + +Capper watched her silently. + +"Let me!" he said at last. + +He took the sprig from her with a hand that was perfectly steady, held it +a moment, seemed to hesitate, finally withdrew it and planted it in his +own buttonhole. + +"I guess I'll keep it myself," he said, "with your permission, in memory +of a good woman." + +Anne commanded herself and looked up. "Keep it, by all means," she said. +"But do not expect too much from me. No woman is always good. The best +of us fail sometimes." + +"But you will do your best when the time comes?" he said, in a tone that +was a curious blend of demand and entreaty. + +She met his eyes quite fully. "Yes," she said, "I will do my best." + +"Then I'm not afraid," said Capper. "We shall pull him through between +us. It will be a miracle, of course, but"--a sudden smile flashed across +his face, transforming him completely--"miracles happen, Lady Carfax." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TOKEN + + +Slowly Anne drew aside the curtain and looked forth into the night, a +magic night, soft and wonderful, infinitely peaceful. A full moon shone +high in the sky with an immense arc of light around it, many-rayed, +faintly prismatic. There was the scent of coming rain in the air, but no +clouds were visible. The stars were dim and remote, almost quenched in +that flood of moonlight. + +Across the quiet garden came the song of a nightingale in one of the +shrubberies, now soft and far like the notes of a fairy flute, now close +at hand and filling the whole world with music. Anne stood, a silent +listener, on the edge of the magic circle. + +She had just risen from the piano, where for the past hour or more she +had been striving to forget the fever that burned within. Now at last she +had relinquished the piteous, vain attempt, and utterly wearied she stood +drinking in the spring sweetness. + +It was drawing towards midnight, and all but herself had retired. She +knew she ought to bolt the window and go to rest also; only she knew, +too, that no rest awaited her. The silver peace into which she gazed was +like balm to her tired spirit, but yet she could only stand, as it were, +upon the edge. + +A great longing was upon her, a voiceless, indescribable desire, that +made within her so deep a restlessness that no outside influence seemed +able to touch it. She leaned her head against the window-frame, conscious +of suffering but scarcely aware of thought. + +With no effort of hers the events of that afternoon passed before her. +She heard again the ardent voice of the friend who had become the lover. +He had loved her from the first, it seemed, and she had not known it. +Could it be that she had loved him also, all unknowing? + +There came again to her the memory of those fierce, compelling eyes, the +dogged mastery with which he had fought her resolution, the sudden magic +softening of the harsh face when he smiled. There came again the +passionate thrilling of his voice; again her hands tingled in that close +grip; again she thought she felt the beating of the savage heart. + +She raised her arms above her head with the gesture of one who wards off +something immense, but they fell almost immediately. She was so tired--so +tired. She had fought so hard and so long. Oh, why was there no peace for +her? What had she done to be thus tortured? Why had love come to her at +all? In all her barren life she had never asked for love. + +And now that it had come it was only to be ruthlessly dashed against the +stones. What had she to do with love--love, moreover, for a man who could +offer her but the fiery passion of a savage, a man from whom her every +instinct shrank, who mocked at holy things and overthrew all barriers of +convention with a cynicism that silenced all protest. What--ah, what +indeed!--had she to do with love? + +She had lived a pure life. She had put out the fires of youth long ago, +with no hesitating hand. She had dwelt in the desert, and made of it her +home. Was it her fault that those fires had been kindled afresh? Was she +to blame because the desert had suddenly blossomed? Could she be held +responsible for these things, she who had walked in blindness till the +transforming miracle had touched her also and opened her eyes? + +She shivered a little. Oh, for a helping hand! Oh, for a deliverer from +this maze of misery! + +She saw again the quiet garden lying sleeping before her in the +moonlight, and felt as if God must be very far away. She was very +terribly alone that night. + +The impulse came to her to pass out into the dewy stillness, and she +obeyed it, scarcely knowing what she did. Over the silver grass, +ghost-like, she moved. It was as if a voice had called her. On to the +lilac trees with their burden of fragrant blossoms, where the thrush +had raised his song of rapture, where she had faced that first fiery +ordeal of love. + +She reached the bench where she had sat that afternoon. There was not a +leaf that stirred. The nightingale's song sounded away in the distance. +The midnight peace lay like a shroud upon all things. But suddenly fear +stabbed her, piercing every nerve to quivering activity. She knew--how, +she could not have said--that she was no longer alone. + +She stood quite still, but the beating of her heart rose quick and +insistent in her ears, like the beat of a drum. Swift came the conviction +that it was no inner impulse that had brought her hither. She had obeyed +a voice that called. + +For many seconds she stood motionless, not breathing, not daring to turn +her head. Then, as her strength partially returned, she took two steps +forward to the seat under the lilac tree, and, her hand upon the back of +it, she spoke. + +"Nap!" + +He came, gliding like a shadow behind her. Slowly she turned and +faced him. + +He was still in riding-dress. She heard again the faint jingle of his +spurs. Yet the moonlight shone strangely down upon him, revealing in him +something foreign, something incongruous, that she marvelled that she had +never before noticed. The fierce, dusky face with its glittering eyes and +savage mouth was oddly unfamiliar to her, though she knew it all by +heart. In imagination she clothed him with the blanket and moccasins of +Capper's uncouth speech; and she was afraid. + +She did not know how to break the silence. The heart within her was +leaping like a wild thing in captivity. + +"Why are you here?" she said at last, and she knew that her voice shook. + +He answered her instantly, with a certain doggedness. "I want to know +what Capper has been saying to you." + +She started almost guiltily. Her nerves were on edge that night. + +"You may as well tell me," he said coolly. "Sooner or later I am +bound to know." + +With an effort she quieted her agitation. "Then it must be later," she +said. "I cannot stay to talk with you now." + +"Why not?" he said. + +Desperately she faced him, for her heart still quaked within her. The +shock of Capper's revelation was still upon her. He had come to her too +soon. "Nap," she said, "I ask you to leave me, and I mean it. Please go!" + +But he only drew nearer to her, and she saw that his face was stern. He +thrust it forward, and regarded her closely. + +"So," he said slowly, "he has told you all about me, has he?" + +She bent her head. It was useless to attempt to evade the matter now. + +"I am mightily obliged to him," said Nap. "I wanted you to know." + +Anne was silent. + +After a moment he went on. "I meant to have told you myself. I even began +to tell you once, but somehow you put me off. It was that night at +Baronmead--you remember?--the night you wanted to help me." + +Well she remembered that night--the man's scarcely veiled despair, his +bitter railing against the ironies of life. So this had been the meaning +of it all. A thrill of pity went through her. + +"Yes," he said. "I knew you'd be sorry for me. I guess pity is about the +cheapest commodity on the market. But--you'll hardly believe it--I don't +want your pity. After all, a man is himself, and it can't be of much +importance where he springs from--anyway, to the woman who loves him." + +He spoke recklessly, and yet she seemed to detect a vein of entreaty +in his words. She steeled her heart against it, but it affected her +none the less. + +"Nap," she said firmly, "there must be no more talk of love between us. I +told you this afternoon that I would not listen, and I will not. Do you +understand me? It must end here and now. I am in earnest." + +"You don't say!" said Nap. + +He was standing close to her, and again fear stabbed her--fear that was +almost abhorrence. There was something about him that was horribly +suggestive of a menacing animal. + +"I am in earnest," she said again. But she could not meet his eyes any +longer. She dared not let him read her soul just then. + +"I am in earnest too," said Nap. "But you needn't be afraid of me on that +account. I may be a savage, but I'm not despicable. If I take more than +you are prepared to offer it's only because I know it to be my own." He +bent towards her, trying to see her face. "My own, Anne!" he said again +very softly. "My own!" + +But at his movement she drew back sharply, with a gesture of such +instinctive, such involuntary recoil, that in an instant she knew that +she had betrayed that which she had sought to hide. + +He stiffened as if at a blow, and she saw his hands clench. In the +silence that followed she stood waiting for the storm to burst, waiting +for his savagery to tear asunder all restraining bonds and leap forth in +devilish fury. But--by what means she knew not--he held it back. + +"So," he said at last, his voice very low, "the Queen has no further use +for her jester!" + +Her heart smote her. What had she done? She felt as if she had cruelly +wounded a friend. But because he demanded of her more than friendship, +she dared not attempt to allay the hurt. She stood silent. + +"Can't you find another _rôle_ for me?" he said. "You will find it +difficult to exclude me altogether from the cast." + +Something in his tone pierced her, compelled her. She glanced up swiftly, +met his eyes, and was suddenly caught, as it were, in fiery chains, so +that she could not look away. And there before her the gates of hell +opened, and she saw a man's soul in torment. She saw the flames mount +higher and higher, scorching and shrivelling and destroying, till at last +she could bear the sight no longer. She covered her face with her hands +and blotted it out. + +"Oh, Nap," she moaned, "if you love me--if you love me--" + +"If I love you--" he said. + +He put his hand on her shoulder and she trembled from head to foot. + +"Prove your love!" she whispered, her face still hidden. + +He stood awhile motionless, still with his hand upon her. But at last it +fell away. + +"You doubt my love then?" he said, and his voice sounded strange to +her, almost cold. "You think my love is unworthy of you? You have--lost +faith in me?" + +She was silent. + +"Is it so?" he persisted. "Tell me the truth. I may as well know it. You +think--because I am not what Capper would, term a thoroughbred--that I +am incapable of love. Isn't that so?" + +But still she did not answer him. Only, being free, she turned to the +garden-seat and sank down upon it, her arms stretched along the back, +her head bowed low. + +He began to pace up and down like a caged animal, pausing each time he +passed her, and each time moving on again as if invisibly urged. At last +very suddenly he stopped with his back to her, and stood like a statue in +the moonlight. + +She did not look at him. She was too near the end of her strength. Her +heart was beating very slowly, like a run-down watch. She felt like an +old, old woman, utterly tired of life. And she was cold--cold from +head to foot. + +Minutes passed. Somewhere away in the night an owl hooted, and Nap +turned his head sharply, as one accustomed to take note of every sound. +A while longer he stood, seeming to listen, every limb alert and tense, +then swiftly he wheeled and gazed full at the drooping woman's figure on +the bench. + +Slowly his attitude changed. Something that was bestial went out of it; +something that was human took its place. Quietly at length he crossed +the moonlit space that intervened between them, reached her, knelt +beside her. + +"Anne," he said, and all her life she remembered the deep melancholy of +his voice, "I am a savage--a brute--a devil. But I swear that I have it +in me to love you--as you deserve to be loved. Won't you have patience +with me? Won't you give me a chance--the only chance I've ever had--of +getting above myself, of learning what love can be? Won't you trust me +with your friendship once more? Believe me, I'm not all brute." + +She thrilled like a dead thing waked to life. Her dread of the man passed +away like an evil dream, such was the magic he had for her. She slipped +one of her cold hands down to him. + +He caught it, bowed his head upon it, pressed it against his eyes, then +lifted his face and looked up at her. + +"It is not the end then? You haven't given me up in disgust?" + +And she answered him in the only way possible to her. "I will be +your friend still, only--only let there never again be any talk of +love between us. That alone will end our friendship. Can I trust +you? Nap, can I?" + +He jerked back his head at the question, and showed her his face in the +full moonlight. And she saw that his eyes were still and passionless, +unfathomable as a mountain pool. + +"If you can bring yourself--if you will stoop--to kiss me," he said, "I +think you will know." + +She started at the words, but she knew instantly that she had nought to +fear. His voice was as steady as his eyes. He asked this thing of her as +a sign of her forgiveness, of her friendship, of her trust; and every +generous impulse urged her to grant it. She knew that if she refused he +would get up and go away, cut to the heart. She seemed to feel him +pleading with her, earnestly beseeching her, reasoning against prejudice, +against the shackles of conventionality, against reason itself. And +through it all her love for the man throbbed at the very heart of her, +overriding all doubt. + +She leaned towards him; she laid her hands upon his shoulders. + +"In token of my trust!" she said, and bent to kiss his forehead. + +But he gave her his lips instead--the thin, cynical lips that were wont +to smile so bitterly. There was no bitterness about them now. They were +only grave to sternness. And so, after a moment, she kissed him as he +wished, and he kissed her in return. + +Afterwards, he rose in unbroken silence, and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BURIAL OF A HATCHET + + +During the weeks that followed, something of her former tranquillity came +back to Anne. It was evident that Nap was determined to show himself +worthy of her trust, for never by word or look did he make the slightest +reference to what had passed between them. He came and went after his +customary sudden fashion. He never informed any one of his movements, nor +did even Lucas know when he might be expected at Baronmead. But his +absences were never of long duration, and Anne met him fairly frequently. + +She herself was more at leisure now than she had been for years, for +Lucas had found an agent for her and the sole care of her husband's +estate no longer lay upon her. She spent much of her time with Mrs. +Errol. Her happiest hours were those she spent with Lucas and his mother +in the great music-room at Baronmead. It was here also that she learned +to know of that hidden, vital quantity, elusive as flame, that was Nap +Errol's soul. For here he would often join them, and the music he drew +from his violin, weirdly passionate, with a pathos no words could ever +utter, was to Anne the very expression of the man's complex being. There +were times when she could hardly hear that wild music of his without +tears. It was like the crying of something that was lost. + +Often, after having accompanied him for a long time, she would take her +hands from the piano and sit silent with a strange and bitter sense of +impotence, as if he were leading whither she could not follow. And Nap +would play on and on in the quiet room, as though he played for her +alone, with the sure hand of a master upon the quivering strings of her +woman's heart. + +But he never spoke to her of love. His eyes conveyed no message at any +time. His straight gaze was impenetrable. He never even touched her hand +unless she offered it to him. And gradually her confidence in him grew +stronger. The instinct that bade her beware of him ceased to disquiet +her. She found herself able to meet him without misgiving, believing that +he had conquered himself for her sake, believing that he bowed to the +inevitable and was willing to content himself with her friendship. + +Undoubtedly a change had passed over him. Lucas was aware of it also, +felt it in his very touch, marked it a hundred times in the gentleness of +his speech and action. He attributed it to the influence of a good woman. +It seemed that Nap had found his soul at last. + +Bertie alone marked it with uneasiness, but Bertie was no impartial +critic. He had distrusted Nap, not without reason, from his boyhood. But +matters of a more personal nature were occupying his attention at that +time, and he did not bestow much of it upon home affairs. For some reason +he had begun to study in earnest, and was reading diligently for the +English Bar. + +Perhaps Mrs. Errol could have pierced the veil of civilisation in which +Nap had wrapped himself had she desired to do so, but she was the last +person in the world to attempt such an invasion. There never had been the +faintest streak of sympathy between them. Neither was there any tangible +antagonism, for each by mutual consent avoided all debatable ground. But +there existed very curiously a certain understanding each of the other +which induced respect if it did not inspire confidence. Without +deliberately avoiding each other they yet never deliberately came in +contact, and, though perfectly friendly in their relations, neither ever +offered to cross the subtle dividing line that stretched between them. +They were content to be acquaintances merely. + +Anne often marvelled in private at Mrs. Errol's attitude towards her +adopted son, but the subject was never mentioned between them. Often she +would recall Capper's words and wonder if they had expressed the literal +truth. She wondered, too, what Capper would say to his ally when he +returned at the end of the summer and found the charge he had laid upon +her unfulfilled. But, after all, Capper was scarcely more than a +stranger, and it seemed to her, upon mature reflection, that he had been +inclined to exaggerate the whole matter. She did not believe that Lucas's +welfare depended upon Nap's absence. Indeed, there were times when it +actually seemed to her that he relied upon Nap for support that none +other could give. Moreover, he was growing daily stronger, and this of +itself seemed proof sufficient that Nap was at least no hindrance to his +progress. She knew also that Nap was using his utmost influence to +persuade him to undergo the operation when Capper should return in +September; but she had no opportunity for furthering his efforts, for +Lucas never referred to the matter in her hearing. If he had yet made his +decision he imparted it to none. He seemed to her to be like a soldier +awaiting orders to move, with that steadfast patience which had become +his second nature. She knew that he would never act upon impulse, and she +admired him for it. + +Dot, who heard all from Bertie, wondered how he could ever hesitate. But +Dot was young and possessed of an abundant energy which knew no flagging. +Her vigorous young life was full of schemes, and she knew not what it was +to stand and wait. She was keenly engaged just then in company with Mrs. +Damer, Mrs. Randal, and a few more, in organising an entertainment in +support of the Town Hall and Reading Club, to which Lucas Errol had +promised his liberal support. It was no secret that he had offered to +supply the whole of the necessary funds, but, as Dot remarked, it was not +to be a charity and Baronford was not so poor-spirited as to be entirely +dependent upon American generosity. So Lucas was invited to give his +substantial help after Baronford had helped itself, which Dot was fully +determined it should do to the utmost of its capacity. + +Many schemes were in consequence discussed and rejected before the Town +Hall Committee finally decided in favour of amateur theatricals. + +Here again Lucas Errol's assistance was cordially invited, since no place +suitable for such an entertainment existed in Baronford. It was naively +intimated to him by Dot that he might provide the theatre and the +scenery, so that the profits might be quite unencumbered. + +Lucas forthwith purchased an enormous marquee (the cost of which far +exceeded any possible profits from the projected entertainment), which +he had erected upon his own ground under Dot's superintendence, and +thenceforth preparations went gaily forward; not, however, without +many a hitch, which Lucas generally managed directly or indirectly to +smooth away. + +It was Lucas who pressed Nap into the service as stage-manager, a post +which had been unanimously urged upon himself, but for which he declared +himself to be morally and physically unfit. It was Lucas who persuaded +Anne to accept a minor _rôle_ though fully aware that she would have +infinitely preferred that of onlooker. He had taken her under his +protection on that night in March, and he had never relinquished the +responsibility then assumed. With a smile, as was his wont with all, he +asserted his authority, and with a smile, in common with all who knew +him, she yielded even against her own strong inclination. + +Nap laughed when he heard of it, despite the fact that he had himself +yielded to the same power. + +"You seem to find Luke irresistible," he said. + +"I do," she admitted simply. "He is somehow too magnificent to refuse. +Surely you have felt the same?" + +"I?" said Nap. "Oh, I always do what I am told. He rules me with a +rod of iron." + +Glancing at him, she had a momentary glimpse of a curious, wistful +expression on his face that made her vaguely sorry. + +Instinctively she went on speaking as if she had not seen it. "I think +with Bertie that he is a born king among men. He is better than good. He +is great. One feels it even in trifles. He has such an immense patience." + +"Colossal," said Nap, and smiled a twisted smile. "That is why he is +everybody's own and particular pal. He takes the trouble to find out +what's inside. One wonders what on earth he finds to interest him. +There's so mighty little in human nature that's worthy of study." + +"I don't agree with you," Anne said in her quiet, direct way. + +He laughed again and turned the subject. He was always quick to divine +her wishes, and to defer to them. Their intercourse never led them +through difficult places, a fact which Anne was conscious that she owed +to his consideration rather than to her own skill. + +She was glad for more than one reason that Lucas had not pressed a very +onerous part upon her. She had a suspicion, very soon confirmed, that Nap +as stage-manager would prove no indulgent task-master. He certainly would +not spare himself, nor would he spare anyone else. + +Disputes were rife when he first assumed command, and she wondered much +if he would succeed in establishing order, for he possessed none of his +brother's winning charm of manner and but a very limited popularity. But +Nap showed himself from the outset fully equal to his undertaking. He +grappled with one difficulty after another with a lightning alertness, a +prompt decision, which soon earned for him the respect of his unruly +subordinates. He never quarrelled, neither did he consider the feelings +of any. A cynical comment was the utmost he ever permitted himself in +the way of retaliation, but he held his own unerringly, evolving order +from confusion with a masterly disregard of opposition that carried all +before it. + +Dot, who was not without a very decided prejudice in favour of her own +way, literally gasped in astonishment at his methods. She would have +liked to defy him openly a dozen times in a day, but Nap simply would +not be defied. He looked over her head with disconcerting arrogance, and +Dot found herself defeated and impotent. Dot had been selected for an +important part, and it was not very long before she came bitterly to +regret the fact. He did not bully her, but he gave her no peace. Over and +over again he sent her back to the same place; and over and over again he +found some fresh fault, till there came at length a day when Dot, weary +and exasperated, subsided suddenly in the midst of rehearsal into +indignant tears. + +Nap merely raised his eyebrows and turned his attention elsewhere, while +Anne drew the sobbing girl away, and tried to soothe her back to +composure in privacy. + +But it was some time before Dot would be comforted. Her grievance against +Nap was very deeply rooted, and it needed but this additional provocation +to break its bounds. It was not long before, clinging very tightly to +Anne, the whole story came out; how she and Bertie loved each other +"better than best," how no one was to know of it and they scarcely dared +to exchange a glance in public in consequence, how there could never, +never be any engagement, all because that horrid, horrid Nap had dared to +hint that she was pursuing Bertie for his money. + +"I hate him!" sobbed Dot. "I do hate him! He's cruel and malicious and +vindictive. I know he means to prevent our ever being happy together. +And--and I know Bertie's afraid of him--and so am I!" + +To all of which Anne listened with grave sympathy and such words of +comfort as seemed most likely to induce in Dot a calmer and more +reasonable state of mind. + +But Dot was not to be reassured quickly. It was very seldom that her +equanimity was disturbed, only in fact when her deepest feelings were +concerned, and this made her breakdown the more complete. She +apologised tearfully for her foolishness at rehearsal, which she set +down to bodily fatigue. She had been to see poor Squinny that morning, +and she thought he really was dying at last. He had cried so, and she +hadn't known how to comfort him, and then when she had got home there +had been no time for luncheon, so she had just changed and come away +without it. And oh,--this with her arms tightly about Anne's neck--she +did wish she had a mother to help her. Poor Dad was very sweet, but he +didn't understand a bit. + +Anne sat with her for the greater part of an hour, comforting her with a +grave tenderness that Dot found infinitely soothing. It might have been +half a lifetime instead of a brief seven years that stretched between +them. For Anne had been a woman long before her time, and Dot for all her +self-reliance was still but a child. + +She grew calm at last, and presently reverted to the theatricals. Did +Lady Carfax think she might withdraw? Nap made her so nervous. She was +sure she could never be successful under his management. + +Anne strongly advised her not to think of such a thing. In consideration +of the fact that Dot had been the moving spirit of the whole scheme such +a proceeding would be little short of disastrous. No doubt a substitute +could be found, but it would mean an open breach with Nap. Bertie would +quarrel with him in consequence, and Lucas would be grievously +disappointed. + +"We mustn't hurt Lucas," Anne urged. "He has so much to bear already. +And--and he has been so much happier about Nap lately." + +"Does Nap worry him too, then?" asked Dot, quickly. "Isn't he hateful? +He upsets everybody." + +"No--no!" Anne said. "Nap would do anything for Lucas. It is his one +solid virtue." + +It was at this point that the door opened with a noiseless swing, and +Nap himself entered. He advanced with the assured air of one whose +welcome is secure. + +"Give the devil his due, Lady Carfax!" he drawled. "He has one +other anyway." + +Even Anne was for the moment disconcerted by the abruptness of his +entrance. Dot sprang to her feet with burning cheeks. It was her evident +intention to escape, but he intercepted her. + +"My business is with you," he said, "not with Lady Carfax. Do you mind +waiting a minute?" + +Dot waited, striving for dignity. Nap was looking at her narrowly. + +In the pause that ensued, Anne rose and passed her arm reassuringly +through Dot's. + +Nap glanced at her. "That's rather shabby of you," he declared. "I was +just going to ask for your support myself." + +She smiled at him faintly. "I think you can manage without it. Dot will +not refuse her forgiveness if you ask for it properly." + +"Won't she?" said Nap, still keenly watching the girl's half-averted +face. "I should if I were Dot. You see our feud is of very long standing. +We always cut each other when we meet in the street--very pointedly so +that no one could possibly imagine for a moment that we were strangers. +We don't like doing it in the least, but we are both so infernally proud +that there is no alternative. And so we have got to keep it up all our +days, long after the primary reason for it all has sunk into oblivion. By +the way, I have forgotten already what the primary reason was." + +"I--haven't," said Dot, in a very low voice. Her lower lip was quivering. +She bit it desperately. + +"No?" said Nap. + +"No!" Dot turned her flushed face suddenly upon him. "You never meant me +to forget," she said, in a voice that shook beyond control. + +"It must have been something very venomous," he said. + +"It was!" she answered, fighting with, herself. "You--you know it was!" + +"It's not worth crying about anyway," said Nap. "My sting may be +poisonous, but it has never yet proved fatal. Tell me where the mischief +is, and p'r'aps I can remove it." + +He was smiling as he made the suggestion, smiling without malice, and, +though Dot could not bring herself to smile in return, she was none the +less mollified. + +"What was it?" he persisted, pressing his advantage. "Something beastly +I said or looked or did? I often do, you know. It's just my way. Do you +know what it was, Lady Carfax?" + +She nodded. "And I think you do too," she said. + +"I don't," he asserted, "on my honour." + +Dot looked incredulous. "Don't you remember that day in February," she +said, "the first day I ever came here--the day you accused me of--of +running after Bertie for--his money?" + +"Great Christopher!" said Nap. "You don't say you took me seriously?" + +"Of course I did," she said, on the verge of tears. "You--you were +serious too." + +"Ye gods!" said Nap. "And I've been wondering why on earth you and Bertie +couldn't make up your minds! So I've been the obstacle, have I? And +that's why you have been hating me so badly all this time--as if I were +the arch-fiend himself! By Jove!" He swung round on his heel. "We'll put +this right at once. Where's Bertie?" + +"Oh, no!" Dot said nervously. "No! Don't call him! He'll see I've been +crying. Nap--please!" + +She disengaged herself from Anne, and sprang after him, seizing him +impetuously by the arm. + +"I mean--Mr. Errol!" she substituted in confusion. + +He clapped his hand upon hers and wheeled. "You can call me anything +under the sun that occurs to you as suitable," he said. "You may kick me +also if you like--which is a privilege I don't accord to everybody. You +won't believe me, I daresay. Few people do. But I'm sorry I was a beast +to you that day. I don't deal in excuses, but when I tell you that I was +rather badly up against something, p'r'aps you'll be magnanimous enough +to forgive me. Will you?" + +He looked her straight in the face with the words. There was little of +humility about him notwithstanding them, but there was something of +melancholy that touched her warm heart. + +"Of course I will!" she said impulsively. "Let's be friends, shall we?" + +He gripped her hand till she felt the bones crack. "Suppose we go and get +some tea," he said. "Are you coming, Lady Carfax?" + +"I'm not fit to be seen," objected Dot, hanging back. + +He drew her on, her hand still fast in his. "Don't be shy, my dear +girl! You look all right. Will you lead the way, Lady Carfax? In the +hall, you know." + +Very reluctantly Dot submitted. She had not the faintest inkling of his +intentions or her docility would have vanished on the instant. As it was, +fortified by Anne's presence, she yielded to his insistence. + +The hall was full of people to whom Mrs. Errol was dispensing tea, +assisted by Bertie, who had emerged from his den for the purpose. +Bertie's studies did not permit him to take any part in the theatricals. +Possibly Nap's position at the head of affairs had assisted his +resolution in this respect. + +He was sitting on the arm of Lucas's chair, hastily gulping some tea in +an interval snatched from his ministrations, when Anne entered, closely +followed by Dot and his brother. Some instinct moved him to turn and +look, for in the general buzz of talk and laughter around him he could +have heard nothing of their approach. He looked, then stared, finally +stood up and set down his cup abruptly. + +As Nap came towards him, still holding Dot by the hand, he turned white +to the lips and moved forward. + +A sudden silence fell as they met. They were the centre of the crowd, the +centre of observation, the centre of an unseen whirlpool of emotions that +threatened to be overwhelming. + +And then with a smile Nap put an end to a tension of expectancy that had +become painful. + +"Hullo, Bertie!" he said, and smote him on the shoulder with a +vigorous hand. "I've just been hearing about your engagement, my dear +fellow. Congratulations! May you and Dot have the best of everything +all your lives!" + +Poor Dot would have fled had that been possible, but she was hedged in +too closely for that. Moreover, Nap had transferred her hand to Bertie's, +and the boy's warm grasp renewed her fainting courage. She knew he was as +amazed as she was herself at Nap's sudden move, and she determined that +she would stand by him at whatever cost. + +And after all, the difficult moment passed very quickly. People crowded +round them with kindly words, shook hands with them, chaffed them both, +and seemed to be genuinely pleased with the turn of events. Mrs. Errol +came forward in her hearty way and kissed them; and in the end Dot found +herself in Bertie's vacated place on the arm of Lucas's chair, with his +steady hand holding hers, and his quiet, sincere voice telling her that +he was "real glad that the thing was fixed up at last." + +Later Bertie took her home in the motor, and explained the situation to +the rector, who was mildly bewildered but raised no definite objection to +the announcement of the engagement. He was something of a philosopher, +and Bertie had always been a favourite of his. Nap in fact was the only +member of the Errol family for whom he did not entertain the most +sincere esteem; but, as Dot remarked that night, Nap was a puzzle to +everybody. It seemed highly probable after all that he carried a kind +heart behind his cynical exterior. She was sure that Lady Carfax thought +so, since she invariably treated him as an intimate friend. + +The rector admitted that she might be right, but after Dot had gone to +bed he leaned his elbow on his writing-table and sat long in thought. + +"I wonder," he murmured to himself presently, "I wonder if Lady Carfax +knows what she is doing. She really is too young, poor girl, to be so +much alone." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A QUESTION OF TRUST + + +The theatricals were arranged to take place on an evening in the +beginning of July, and for that one night Mrs. Errol persuaded Anne to +sleep at Baronmead. She would not consent to leave the Manor for longer, +for she still superintended much of the management of the estate and +overlooked the agent's work. She had begun to wonder if all her days +would be spent thus, for the reports which reached her regularly of her +husband's state of health were seldom of a hopeful nature. In fact they +varied very little, and a brain specialist had given it as his opinion +that, though it was impossible to speak with certainty, Sir Giles might +remain in his present condition of insanity for years, even possibly for +as long as he lived. He was the last of his family, and the title would +die with him. And Anne wondered--often she wondered--if it were to be her +lot to live out the rest of her life alone. + +She did not mind solitude, nor was she altogether unhappy, but she was +too young not to feel now and then the deep stirrings of her youth. And +she had lived so little in all her twenty-five years of life. Yet with +that habit of self-control which had grown up with her, and which made +many think her cold, she would not suffer her thoughts to dwell upon past +or future. Her world was very small, and, as she had once told Nap, she +contented herself with "the work that was nearest". If it did not greatly +warm her heart, it kept her from brooding over trouble. + +On the morning of the day fixed for the theatricals he came over in the +motor to fetch her. It was a glorious day of summer, and Anne was in the +garden. He joined her there, and they walked for awhile in the green +solitudes, talking of the coming entertainment. + +They came in their wanderings to the seat under the lilac trees. She +wondered afterwards if he had purposely directed their steps thither. +They had not been together there since that night when the lilac had been +in bloom, that night of perfect spring, the night when their compact had +been made and sealed. Did he think of it, she wondered as they passed. If +so, he made no sign, but talked on in casual strain as if she were no +more than the most casual of friends. Very faithfully he had kept his +part of the compact, so faithfully that when they were past she was +conscious of a sense of chill mingling with her relief. He had stifled +his passion for her, it seemed, and perhaps it was only by comparison +that his friendship felt so cold and measured. + +She was glad when they reached Baronmead at length. It was like going +into sudden sunshine to enter Lucas's presence and feel the warmth of his +welcome about her heart. She stayed long talking with him. Here was a +friend indeed, a friend to trust, a friend to confide in, a friend to +love. He might be "everybody's own and particular pal," as Nap had said, +but she knew intuitively that this friend of hers kept a corner for her +that was exclusively her own, a safe refuge in which she had found +shelter for the first time on that night that seemed so long ago when he +had held her in his arms and comforted her as though he had been a woman, +and which she knew had been open to her ever since. + +There was a final rehearsal in the afternoon which went remarkably +smoothly. Anne's part was not a lengthy one, and as soon as it was over +she went back to the house in search of Mrs. Errol. She had left +directions for her letters to be sent after her, and she found two or +three awaiting her in the hall. She picked them up, and passed into the +music-room. + +Here she found Lucas reading some correspondence of his own. + +He looked up with a smile. "Oh, Lady Carfax! I was just thinking of you. +I have a letter here from my friend Capper. You remember Dr. Capper?" + +"Very well indeed," she said, stifling a sudden pang at the name. + +He lay motionless in his chair, studying her with those shrewd blue eyes +that she never desired to avoid. "I believe Capper took you more or less +into his confidence," he said. "It's a risky thing for a doctor to do, +but he is a student of human nature as well as human anatomy. He +generally knows what he is about. Won't you sit down?" + +She took the seat near him that he indicated. Somehow the mention of +Capper had made her cold. She was conscious of a shrinking that was +almost physical from the thought of ever seeing him again. + +"Capper wants to have the shaping of my destiny," Lucas went on +meditatively. "In other words, he wants to pull me to pieces and make a +new man of me. Sometimes I am strongly tempted to let him try. At other +times," he was looking at her fully, "I hesitate." + +She put her shrinking from her and faced him. "Will you tell me why?" + +"Because," he said slowly, "I have a fear that I might be absent +when wanted." + +"But you are always wanted," she said quickly. + +He smiled. "Thank you, Lady Carfax. But that was not my meaning. I think +you understand me. I think Capper must have told you. I am speaking with +regard to--my brother Nap." + +He spoke the last words very deliberately. He was still looking at her +kindly but very intently. She felt the blood rush to her heart. For the +first time her eyes fell before his. + +He went on speaking at once, as if to reassure her, to give her time. +"You've been a stanch friend to him, I know, and you've done a big thing +for him. You've tamed him, shaped him, made a man of him. I felt your +influence upon him before I ever met you. I sensed your courage, your +steadfastness, your goodness. But you are only a woman, eh, Lady Carfax? +And Rome wasn't built in a day. There may come a time when the savage +gets the upper hand of him again. And then, if I were not by to hold him +in, he might gallop to his own or someone else's destruction. That is +what I have to think of before I decide." + +"But--can you always hold him?" Anne said. + +"Always, Lady Carfax." Very quietly, with absolute confidence, came the +reply. "You may put your last dollar on that, and you won't lose it. We +settled that many years ago, once and for all. But I've been asking +myself lately if I need be so anxious, if possibly Rome may be nearer +completion than I imagine. Is it so? Is it so? I sometimes think you know +him better than I do myself." + +"I!" Anne said. + +"You, Lady Carfax." + +With an effort she looked up. His eyes were no longer closely studying +her. He seemed to be looking beyond. + +"If you can trust him," he said quietly, "I know that I can. The question +is--Can you?" + +He waited very quietly for her answer, still not looking at her. But it +was long in coming. + +At last. "I do not feel that I know him as I once did," she said, her +voice very low, "nor is my influence over him what it was. But I think, +if you trust him, he will not disappoint you." + +The kindly eyes rested upon her again for a moment, but he made no +comment upon the form in which she had couched her reply. + +He merely, after the briefest pause, smiled and thanked her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A SUDDEN BLOW + + +Anne found herself the first to enter the drawing room that night before +dinner. It was still early, barely half-past seven. The theatricals were +to begin at nine. + +She had her unopened letters with her, and she sat down to peruse them by +an open window. The evening sun poured full upon her in fiery splendour. +She leaned her head against the woodwork, a little wearied. + +She opened the first letter mechanically. Her thoughts were wandering. +Without much interest she withdrew it from the envelope, saw it to be +unimportant, and returned it after the briefest inspection. The next was +of the same order, and received a similar treatment. The third and last +she held for several seconds in her hand, and finally opened with obvious +reluctance. It was from a doctor in the asylum in which her husband had +been placed. Slowly her eyes travelled along the page. + +When she turned it at length her hands were shaking, shaking so much +that the paper rattled and quivered like a living thing. The writing +ended on the further page, but before her eyes reached the signature the +letter had fallen from her grasp. Anne, the calm, the self-contained, the +stately, sat huddled in her chair--a trembling, stricken woman, with her +hands pressed tightly over her eyes, as if to shut out some dread vision. + +In the silence that followed someone entered the room with a light, +cat-like tread, and approached the window against which she sat. But so +overwhelmed was she for the moment that she was unaware of any presence +till Nap's voice spoke to her, and she started to find him close to her, +within reach of her hand. + +She lifted her white face then, while mechanically she groped for the +letter. It had fallen to the ground. He picked it up. + +"What is it?" he said, and she thought his voice sounded harsh. "You have +had bad news?" + +She held out her hand for the letter. "No, it is good. I--am a little +tired, that's all." + +"That is not all," he said, and she heard the dogged note in his +voice that she had come to know as the signal of indomitable +resolution. He sat down on the window seat close to her, still +keeping the letter in his hand. + +She made a little hopeless gesture and sat silent, striving for +composure. She knew that during the seconds that followed, his eyes never +stirred from her face. It was his old trick of making her feel the +compulsion of his will. Often before she had resisted it. To-night she +was taken at a disadvantage. He had caught her unarmed. She was +powerless. + +She turned her head at last and spoke. "You may read that letter," she +said. + +The thin lips smiled contemptuously for an instant. "I have read it +already," he said. + +She started slightly, meeting his eyes. "You have read it?" + +"In your face," he told her coolly. "It contains news of the man you call +your husband. It is to say he is better--and--coming--home." + +He spoke the last words as though he were actually reading them one by +one in her tragic eyes. + +"It is an experiment," she whispered. "He wishes it himself, it seems, +and they think the change might prove beneficial. He is decidedly +better--marvellously so. And he has expressed the desire to see me. Of +course"--she faltered a little--"I should not be--alone with him. There +would be an attendant. But--but you mustn't think I am afraid. It wasn't +that. Only--only--I did not expect it. It has come rather suddenly. I am +not so easily upset as a rule." + +She spoke hurriedly, almost as though she were pleading with him to +understand and to pardon her weakness. + +But her words quivered into silence. Nap said nothing whatever. He +sat motionless, the letter still in his hand, his eyes unswervingly +fixed upon her, + +That sphinx-like stare became unbearable at last. She gathered her +strength and rose. + +"You came upon me at an unlucky moment," she said. "Please forget it." + +He still stared at her stonily without moving or speaking. Something that +was almost fear gripped her. The very stillness of the man was in a +fashion intimidating. + +She stood before him, erect, and at least outwardly calm. "May I have my +letter?" she said. + +The words were a distinct command, and after a very decided pause he +responded to it. He rose with a quick, lithe movement, and handed her the +letter with a brief bow. + +An instant later, while she still waited for him to speak, he turned on +his heel and left her. + +Very soon after, Mrs. Errol came in, and then one after another those who +were staying in the house for the entertainment. But Anne had commanded +herself by that time. No one noticed anything unusual in her demeanour. + +Nap was absent from the dinner--table. Someone said that he was +superintending some slight alteration on the stage. It was so ordinary an +occurrence for him to fail to appear at a meal that no one was surprised. +Only Anne covered a deep uneasiness beneath her resolute serenity of +manner. She could not forget that basilisk stare. It haunted her almost +to the exclusion of everything else. She had no thought to spare for the +letter regarding her husband. She could only think of Nap. What had that +stare concealed? She felt that if she could have got past those baffling, +challenging eyes she would have seen something terrible. + +Yet when she met him again she wondered if after all she had disquieted +herself for nought. He was standing at the stage-entrance to the +marquee, discussing some matter with one of the curtain-pullers when she +arrived. He stood aside for her to pass, and she went by quickly, +avoiding his eyes. + +She kept out of his way studiously till her turn came, then perforce she +had to meet him again, for he was stationed close to the opening on to +the stage through which she had to pass. For the moment there was no one +else at hand, and she felt her heart beat thick and fast as she waited +beside him for her cue. + +He did not speak to her, did not, she fancied, even look at her; but +after a few dumb seconds his hand came out to hers and held it in a +close, sinewy grip. Her own was nerveless, cold as ice. She could not +have withdrawn it had she wished. But she did not wish. That action of +his had a strange effect upon her, subtly calming her reawakened doubts. +She felt that he meant to reassure her, and she suffered herself to be +reassured. + +Later, she marvelled at the ingenuity that had so successfully blinded +her, marvelled at herself for having been so blinded, marvelled most of +all at the self-restraint that could so shackle and smother the fierce +passion that ran like liquid fire in every vein as to make her fancy that +it had ceased to be. + +When her turn came at length she collected herself and left him +with a smile. + +She went through her part very creditably, but she was unspeakably +thankful when it was over. + +"You are tired, Lady Carfax," Lucas murmured, when at length she found +her way to the seat beside him that he had been reserving for her. + +"A little," she admitted. + +And then suddenly the impulse to tell him the primary cause of her +trouble came upon her irresistibly. She leaned towards him and spoke +under cover of the orchestra. + +"Mr. Errol, I have had news of--my husband. He wants to come home. No, he +is not well yet, but decidedly better, well enough to be at liberty in +the charge of an attendant. And so--and so--" + +The whispered words failed. She became silent, waiting for the steady +sympathy for which she knew she would never wait in vain. + +But he did not speak at once. It almost seemed as if he were at a loss. +It almost seemed as if he realised too fully for speech that leaden +weight of despair which had for a space so terribly overwhelmed her. + +And then at last his voice came to her, slow and gentle, yet with a vital +note in it that was like a bugle-call to her tired spirit. "Stick to it, +Lady Carfax! You'll win out. You're through the worst already." + +Desperately, as one half-ashamed, she answered him. "I wish with all my +heart I could think so. But--I am still asking myself if--if there is no +way of escape." + +He turned his head in the dim light and looked at her, and shame stabbed +her deeper still. Yet she would not recall the words. It was better that +he should know, better that he should not deem her any greater or +worthier than she was. + +Then, "Thank you for telling me," he said very simply. "But you'll win +out all the same. I have always known that you were on the winning side." + +The words touched her in a fashion not wholly accountable. Her eyes +filled with sudden tears. + +"What makes you have such faith in me?" she said. + +The light was too dim for her so see his face, but she knew that he was +smiling as he made reply. + +"That's just one of the things I can't explain," he said. "But I think +God made you for a spar for drowning men to cling to." + +She smiled with him in spite of the tears. "May the spar never fail +you!" she said. + +"I am not afraid," he answered very steadily. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BOON + + +It was long before Anne slept that night, but yet though restless she was +not wholly miserable. Neither was she perplexed. Her duty lay before her +clearly defined, and she meant to fulfil it. Those few words with Lucas +Errol had decided her beyond all hesitancy, so completely was she in +sympathy with this strong friend of hers. Perhaps her wavering had only +been the result of a moment's weakness, following upon sudden strain. But +the strain had slackened, and the weakness was over. She knew that even +Nap had not the power to move her now. With the memory of his firm +hand-grip came the conviction that he would not seek to do so. Like +herself he had been momentarily dismayed it might be, but he had taken +his place among her friends, not even asking to be foremost, and +remembering this, she resolutely expelled any lingering doubt of him. Had +she not already proved that she had but to trust him to find him +trustworthy? What tangible reason had he given her for withdrawing her +trust even for a moment? She reproached herself for it, and determined +that she would never doubt him again. + +But yet sleep was long in coming to her. Once when it seemed near, the +hooting of an owl near the open window drove it away; and once in the +vague twilight before the dawn she started awake to hear the sharp +thudding of a horse's hoofs galloping upon the turf not very far away. +That last set her heart a-beating, she could not have said wherefore, +save that it reminded her vaguely of a day in the hunting-field that had +ended for her in disaster. + +She slept at last and dreamed--a wild and fearful dream. She dreamed that +she was on horseback, galloping, galloping, galloping, in headlong flight +from someone, she knew not whom, but it was someone of whom she was +unspeakably afraid. And ever behind her at break-neck speed, gaining +upon her, merciless as fate, galloped her pursuer. It was terrible, it +was agonising, yet, though in her heart she knew it to be a dream, she +could not wake. And then, all suddenly, the race was over. Someone drew +abreast of her. A sinewy hand gripped her bridle-rein. With a gasping cry +she turned to face her captor, and saw--a Red Indian! His tigerish eyes +gazed into hers. He was laughing with a fiendish exultation. The eagle +feathers tossed above his swarthy face. It came nearer to her; it glared +into her own. And suddenly recognition stabbed her like a sword. It was +the face of Nap Errol.... + +He was on the stairs talking to Hudson, the valet, when she descended to +breakfast, but he turned at once to greet her. + +"I am sorry to say Lucas has had a bad night. He will keep his room +to-day. How have you slept, Lady Carfax?" + +She answered him conventionally. They went downstairs together. + +Bertie was in the hall studying a newspaper. He came forward, scowling +heavily, shook hands with Anne, and immediately addressed his brother. + +"I've just come in from the stable. Have you been out all night? You've +nearly ridden the mare to death." + +Anne glanced at Nap instinctively. He was smiling. "Don't vex yourself, +my good Bertie," he said. "The mare will be all right after a feed." + +"Will she?" growled Bertie. "She is half dead from exhaustion anyway." + +"Oh, skittles!" said Nap, turning to go. + +The boy's indignation leaped to a blaze. "Skittles to you! I know what +I'm saying. And if you're not ashamed of yourself, you damned well +ought to be!" + +Nap stopped. "What?" he drawled. + +Bertie glared at him and subsided. The explosion had been somewhat more +violent than he had intended. + +Very quietly Nap stepped up to him. "Will you repeat that last remark +of yours?" + +Bertie was silent. + +"Or do you prefer to withdraw it?" + +Bertie maintained a dogged silence. He was fidgeting with the paper in a +fashion that seemed to indicate embarrassment. + +"Do you withdraw it?" Nap repeated, still quiet, still slightly drawling. + +Bertie hunched his shoulders like a schoolboy. "Oh, get away, Nap!" he +growled. "Yes--sorry I spoke. Now clear out and leave me alone!" + +Anne was already at the further end of the hall, but Nap overtook her +before she entered the breakfast room. He opened the door for her, and as +she passed him she saw that he was still faintly smiling. + +"Pardon the _contretemps_!" he said. "You may have noticed before that I +am not particularly good at swallowing insults." + +"I wonder if there was a cause for it," she said, looking at him +steadily. "Remember, I know what your riding is like." + +He raised his eyebrows for a moment, then laughed. The room they entered +was empty. + +"No one down yet!" he observed. "Take a seat by the window. What will +you have?" + +He attended to her wants and his own, and finally sat down facing her. He +seemed to be in excellent spirits. + +"Please don't look so severe!" he urged. "Just as I am going to ask a +favour of you, too!" + +She smiled a little but not very willingly. "I don't like cruel people," +she said. "Cruelty is a thing I can never forget because I abhor it so." + +"And are you never cruel?" said Nap. + +"I hope not." + +"I hope not, too," he rejoined, giving her a hard look. "But I sometimes +have my doubts." + +Anne looked out of the window in silence. + +The sharp rapping of his knuckles on the table recalled her. She turned, +slightly startled, and met his imperious eyes. He smiled at her. + +"Queen Anne, I crave a boon." + +Almost involuntarily she returned his smile. "So you said before." + +"And you don't even ask what it is." + +"I am not quite sure that I want to know, Nap," she said. + +"You are not liking me this morning," he observed. + +She made no answer. + +"What is it?" he said. "Is it the mare?" + +She hesitated. "Perhaps, in part." + +"And the other part?" He leaned forward, looking at her keenly. "Are you +afraid of me, Anne?" he said. + +His voice was free from reproach, yet her heart smote her. She reminded +herself of how he had once pleaded with her for her trust. + +"I'm sorry I pressed the mare," he said, "but it was quite as much her +fault as mine. Moreover, the cub exaggerated. I will fetch him in and +make him own it if you like." + +She stayed him with a gesture. "No, don't, please! I think Bertie was +probably in the right." + +"Do you, though?" Nap leaned back again, regarding her with supercilious +attention. "It's rather--daring of you to say so." + +"Do you really think I stand in awe of you?" she said. + +"You are such a truly remarkable woman," he made answer, "that I scarcely +know what to think. But since you are not afraid of me--apparently, +perhaps I may venture to come to the point. Do you know I have been +laying plans for a surprise picnic for you and--one other? It's such a +gorgeous day. Don't refuse!" + +The boyish note she liked to hear sounded suddenly in his voice. He +discarded his cynicism and leaned towards her again, eager, persuasive. + +"Don't refuse," he reiterated. "Look at the sunshine, listen to the +birds, think of a whole day in the open! I'll take you to the loveliest +place I know in this quaint little island, and I'll be your slave all day +long. Oh, I promise you won't find me in the way. Now don't look prudish. +Be a girl for once. Never mind the rest of creation. No one else will +know anything about it. We leave Baronmead this morning in the motor, and +who cares what time we reach the Manor? It can't matter to you or anyone. +Say you'll come! Say it!" + +"My dear Nap!" Anne looked at him dubiously, uncertain whether to take +him seriously. + +"Say it!" he repeated. "There is no earthly reason why you shouldn't. And +I'll take such care of you. Why shouldn't you have a real good time for +once? You never have had in all your life." + +True, only too true! But it was not that fact that made her waver. + +"Will you tell me what plans you have made for this picnic?" she asked +at length. + +He began to smile. "My plans, Lady Carfax, are entirely subject to your +approval. About forty miles from here there is a place called +Bramhurst--a place after your own heart--a paradise. With judicious +driving we could be there by one or soon after--in time for luncheon." + +"Yes?" she said, as he stopped. + +"That's all," said Nap. + +"But--afterwards?" she hazarded. + +"My dear Lady Carfax, if it is to be a surprise picnic, where's the use +of settling all the details beforehand?" Nap's tone was one of indulgent +protest; he was eating and drinking rapidly, as if he had an appointment +to keep. "My suggestion is that we then follow our inclinations--your +inclinations." He smiled at her again. "I am your slave till sunset." + +"Could we be back at the Manor by then?" she asked. + +"Of course we could." + +"Will you promise that we shall be?" She looked up at him seriously. + +He was still smiling. "If you ordain it," he said. + +"I must be back by dinner-time," she asserted. + +"And you dine?" + +"At eight." + +He pushed back his chair and rose. "Very discreet of you! The sun sets at +eight-ten. At what hour will you deign to be ready?" + +"At eleven," said Anne. + +He glanced at his watch. "I am afraid you can't see Lucas to say +good-bye. Hudson has just given him morphia." + +"Is he so bad then?" she asked quickly. + +"No worse than he has been before. Bad pain all night. He always fights +against taking the stuff. I persuaded him." He spoke shortly, as if the +subject were distasteful to him. "No doubt he is easier by this time," he +added. "Eleven o'clock then! I will go and get ready." But even then he +paused, his hand on the back of her chair. "Can you keep a secret?" he +asked lightly. + +She glanced up at him. "A secret?" + +"An it please you," he said, "let this be a secret between yourself and +your humble slave!" + +And with the words he turned with an air of finality and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DAY IN PARADISE + + +It was a day in the very heart of the summer, a day of cloudless skies +and wonderful, magic breezes, a day for the dreaming--and perchance for +the fulfilment--of dreams. Swift and noiseless as the swoop of a monster +bird the motor glided on its way; now rushing, now slackening, but never +halting. Sometimes it seemed to Anne that she sat motionless while the +world raced by her. She had often seen herself thus. And then with a +thrill of the pulses came the exultation of rapid movement, banishing the +illusion, while the very heart of her rejoiced in the knowledge thereof. +For this one day--for this one day--she had left the desert behind her. +She had yielded half against her judgment, but she knew no regret. On the +morrow she would be back in the waste places where, during all her +womanhood, she had wandered. But for this one day the roses bloomed for +her and she drank deep of their fragrance. It had come to her so +unexpectedly, so dazzlingly, this brief and splendid hour. She marvelled +at herself that she had hesitated even for a moment to accept it. + +Perhaps memories of another day came now and again to her as she leaned +back on the cushions and opened her soul to the sunshine, memories of a +day of sparkling winter which had begun in much the same genial +atmosphere and had ended in most hideous disaster. But if they came she +put them resolutely from her. There was no time to waste upon past or +future. For this one day she would drink the wine of the gods; she +would live. + +Nap drove in almost unbroken silence. He was wearing a mask, and she had +no clue to his thoughts; but she scarcely speculated about him. She did +not want to talk. She only desired to give herself up to the pure +pleasure of rapid movement. She had complete faith in his driving. If +daring, he was never reckless, with her beside him. + +The meadows were full of hay, and the scent of it lay like a spell upon +the senses. The whirr of the mowing machine filled the air with a lazy +droning. It was like a lullaby. And ever they sped on, through towns and +villages and hamlets, through woods and lanes and open country, sure and +swift and noiseless save for the cheery humming of the motor, which sang +softly to itself like a spinning top. + +They went through country of which Anne had no knowledge, but Nap seemed +fully acquainted with it; for he never paused to ask the way, never +raised his eyes to the finger-posts that marked the cross-roads. She +marvelled at his confidence, but asked no questions. It was not a day for +questions. + +Only when they emerged at last upon a wide moor, where the early heather +grew in tufts of deepest rose, she cried to him suddenly to stop. + +"I must get some of it. It is the first I have seen. Look! How +exquisite!" + +He drew up at the side of the long white road that zigzagged over the +moor, and they went together into the springy heath, wading in it after +the waxen flowers. + +And here Anne sat down in the blazing sunshine and lifted her clear eyes +to his. "I won't thank you, because we are friends," she said. "But this +is the best day I have ever had." + +He pushed up his goggles and sat down beside her. "So you are not sorry +you came?" he said. + +"I could not be sorry to-day," she answered. "How long have you known +this perfect place?" + +He lay back in the heather with his arms flung wide. "I came here first +one day in the spring, a day in May. The place was a blaze of gorse and +broom--as if it were on fire. It suited me--for I was on fire too." + +In the silence that succeeded his words he turned and leisurely +scrutinised her. She was snapping a stalk of heather with minute care. A +deep flush rose and spread over her face under his eyes. + +"Why don't you look at me?" he said. + +Very slowly her eyes came down to him. He was smiling in a secret +fashion, not as if he expected her to smile in return. The sunlight beat +down upon his upturned face. He blinked at her lazily and stretched every +limb in succession, like a cat. + +"Let me know when you begin to feel bored," he said. "I am quite ready to +amuse you." + +"I thought it was only the bores who were ever bored," she said. + +He opened his eyes a little. "Did I say that or did you?" + +She returned to her heather-pulling. "I believe you said it originally." + +"I remember," he returned composedly. "It was on the night you bestowed +upon me the office of court-jester, the night you dreamed I was the Knave +of Diamonds, the night that--" + +She interrupted very gently but very resolutely; "The night that we +became friends, Nap." + +"A good many things happened that night," he remarked, pulling off his +cap and pitching it from him. + +"Is that wise?" she said. "The sun is rather strong." + +He sat up, ignoring the warning. "Anne," he said, "have you ever dreamed +about me since that night?" + +She was silent, all her attention concentrated upon her bunch of heather. +His eyes left her face and began to study her hands. + +After a moment he pulled a bit of string out of his pocket and without +a word proceeded to wind it round the stalks she held. As he knotted +it he spoke. + +"So that is why you were afraid of me to-day. I knew there was something. +I winded it the moment we met. Whenever I hold your hand in mine I can +see into your soul. What was it, Anne? The Knave of Diamonds on a black +mare--riding to perdition?" + +He laughed at her softly as though she had been a child. He was still +watching her hands. Suddenly he laid his own upon them and looked +into her face. + +"Or was it just a savage?" he asked her quietly. + +Against her will, in spite of the blaze of sunshine, she shivered. + +"Yes," he said. "But isn't it better to face him than to run away? +Haven't you always found it so? You kissed him once, Anne. Do you +remember? It was the greatest thing that ever happened to him." + +He spoke with a gentleness that amazed her. His eyes held hers, but +without compulsion. He was lulling her fear of him to rest, as he +alone knew how. + +She answered him with quivering lips. "I have wondered since if I +did wrong." + +"Then don't wonder," he said. "For I was nearer to the God you worship +at that moment than I had ever been before. I never believed in Him till +then, but that night I wrestled with Him--and got beaten." He dropped +suddenly into his most cynical drawl, so that she wondered if, after +all, he were mocking her. "It kind of made an impression on me. I +thought it might interest you to know. Have you had enough of this yet? +Shall we move on?" + +She rose in silence. She was very far from certain, and yet she fancied +there had been a ring of sincerity in his words. + +As they reached the car she laid her hand for an instant on his arm. "If +it did that for you, Nap," she said, "I do not regret it." + +He smiled in his faint, cynical fashion. "I believe you'll turn me out a +good man some day," he said. "And I wonder if you will like me any when +it's done." + +"I only want you to be your better self," she answered gently. + +"Which is a myth," he returned, as he handed her in, "which exists only +in your most gracious imagination." + +And with that he pulled the mask over his face once more and turned to +the wheel. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE RETURN TO EARTH + + +It was nearly two before they reached Bramhurst and drew up before the +one ancient inn the place possessed. Upstairs, in a lattice-windowed room +with sloping floor and bulging ceiling, a room that was full of the scent +of honeysuckle, Anne washed away the dust of the road. Turning to the +mirror on the dressing-table when this was over, she stood a moment +wide-eyed, startled. Through her mind there swept again the memory of a +day that seemed very far away--a day begun in sunshine and ended in +storm, a day when she had looked into the eyes of a white-faced woman in +the glass and had shrunk away in fear. It was a very different vision +that now met her gaze, and yet she had a feeling that there was something +in it that remained unaltered. Was it in the eyes that shone from a face +so radiant that it might have been the face of a girl? + +She could not have said. Only after that one brief glimpse she +looked no more. + +Descending, she found Nap waiting for her in the oak-beamed coffee-room. +He made her sit facing the open window, looking forth upon hill and +forest and shallow winding river. + +The stout old English waiter who attended to their wants very +speedily withdrew. + +"He thinks we are on our wedding-trip," said Nap. + +She glanced at him sharply. + +"Yes, I let him have it so," he returned. "I never destroy a pretty +illusion if I can help it." + +"What time do we start back?" said Anne, aware of burning cheeks, which +he was studying with undisguised amusement. + +"Would you like some ice?" he suggested. + +She laughed, with something of an effort. "Don't be ridiculous, Nap!" + +"I am sure you have never done anything so improper in all your life +before," he went on. "What must it feel like? P'r'aps you would have +preferred me to explain the situation to him in detail? I will have him +in and do it now--if you really think it worth while. I shouldn't myself, +but then I seldom suffer from truthfulness in its most acute form. It's a +tiresome disease, isn't it? One might almost call it dashed inconvenient +on an occasion such as this. There is only one remedy that I can suggest, +and that is to pretend it's true." + +"I am not good at pretending," Anne answered gravely. + +He laughed. "Very true, O Queen! Horribly true! But I am, you know, a +positive genius in that respect. So I'm going to pretend I'm an +Englishman--of the worthy, thick-headed, bulldog breed. (I am sure you +admire it; you wouldn't be an Englishwoman if you didn't). And you are my +devoted and adorable wife. You needn't look shocked. It's all for the +sake of that chap's morals. Do you think I can do it?" + +"I don't want you to do it, Nap," she said earnestly. + +He dropped the subject instantly. "Your wish is law. There is only one +other person in this world who can command my implicit obedience in this +fashion. So I hope you appreciate your power." + +"And that other is Lucas?" said Anne. + +He nodded. "Luke the irresistible! Did you ever try to resist him?" + +She shook her head with a smile. + +"Take my advice then," he said. "Never do! He could whip creation with +his hands tied behind him. Oh, I know you all think him mild-tempered and +easy-going, more like a woman than a man. But you wait till you're hard +up against him. Then you'll know what I mean when I tell you he's +colossal." There was a queer ring of passion in his voice as he ended. It +sounded to Anne like the half-stifled cry of a wounded animal. + +Because of it she repressed the impulse to ask him what he meant. +Nevertheless, after a moment, as if impelled by some hidden force, he +continued. + +"There was a time when I thought of him much as you do. And then one day +there came a reckoning--an almighty big reckoning." He leaned back in his +chair and stared upwards, while the grim lines of his mouth tightened. +"It was down in Arizona. We fought a duel that lasted a day and a night. +He was a worse cripple in those days than he is now, but he won out--he +won out." Again came the cynical drawl, covering his actual feelings as +with an impenetrable veil. "I've had a kind of respect for him ever +since," he said. "One does, you know." + +"One would," said Anne, and again refrained from asking questions. + +She was thinking of the complete confidence with which Lucas had spoken +of his ascendency over this man. + +Finishing luncheon they went out over the common that stretched from the +very door, down the hill-side of short, sun-baked grass, passing between +masses of scorched broom, whose bursting pods crackled perpetually in the +sunshine, till they came to the green shade of forest trees and the gleam +of a running stream. + +The whirr of grasshoppers filled the air and the humming of insects +innumerable. Away in the distance sounded the metal clang of a cow-bell. +It was the only definite sound that broke the stillness. The heat was +intense. A dull, copper haze had risen and partially obscured the sun. + +Anne stopped on the edge of the stream. Wonderful dragon-flies such as +she had never seen before, peacock, orange and palest green, darted to +and fro above the brown water. Nap leaned against a tree close to her and +smoked a cigarette. + +She spoke at last without turning. "Am I in fairyland, I wonder?" + +"Or the Garden of Eden," suggested Nap. + +She laughed a little, and stooping tried to reach a forget-me-not that +grew on the edge of the water. + +"Beware of the serpent!" he warned. "Anyway, don't tumble in!" + +She stretched back a hand to him. "Don't let me go!" + +His hand closed instantly and firmly upon her wrist. In a moment she +drew back with the flower in her hand, to find his cigarette smouldering +on a tuft of moss. He set his foot upon it without explanation and +lighted another. + +"Ought we not to be starting back?" she asked. + +"It won't be so hot in half-an-hour," he said. + +"But how long will it take?" + +"It can be done in under three hours. If we start at half-past-four you +should be home well before sunset." + +He smiled with the words, and Anne suffered herself to be persuaded. +Certainly the shade of the beech trees was infinitely preferable to the +glare of the dusty roads, and the slumberous atmosphere made her feel +undeniably languorous. + +She sat down therefore on the roots of a tree, still watching the +dragon-flies flitting above the water. + +Nap stripped off his coat and made it into a cushion. "Lean back on this. +Yes, really. I'm thankful for the excuse to go without it. How is that? +Comfortable?" + +She thanked him with a smile. "I mustn't go to sleep." + +"Why not?" said Nap. "There is nothing to disturb you. I'm going back to +the inn to order tea before we start." + +He was off with the words with that free, agile gait of his that always +made her think of some wild creature of the woods. + +She leaned back with a sense of complete well-being and closed her +eyes.... + +When she opened them again it was with a guilty feeling of having been +asleep at a critical juncture. With a start she sat up and looked +around her. The sun-rays were still slanting through the wood, but +dully, as though they shone through a sheet of smoked glass. The +stillness was intense. + +A sharp sense of nervousness pricked her. There seemed to be something +ominous in the atmosphere; or was it only in her own heart that it +existed? And where was Nap? Surely he had been gone for a very long time! + +She rose stiffly and picked up his coat. At the same instant a shrill +whistle sounded through the wood, and in a moment she saw him coming +swiftly towards her. + +Quietly she moved to meet him. + +He began to speak before he reached her. "I was afraid you would be tired +of waiting and wander about till you got frightened and lost yourself. Do +you ever have hysterics?" + +"Never," said Anne firmly. + +He took his coat and began to wriggle into it, surveying her meantime +with a smile half-speculative, half-rueful. + +"Well, that's a weight off my mind, anyway," he remarked at length. +"For I have a staggering piece of news for you which I hardly dare to +impart. Oh, it's no good looking at your watch. It's hopelessly late, +nearly six o'clock, and in any case I can't get you home to-night. +There's no petrol." + +"Nap!" Anne's voice was a curious compound of consternation and relief. +Somehow--doubtless it was the effect of thunder in the atmosphere--she +had expected something in the nature of tragedy. + +Nap put on his most contrite air. "Do be a brick and take it nicely!" he +pleaded. "I know I was an all-fired fool not to see to it for myself. But +I was called away, and so I had to leave it to those dunderheads at the +garage. I only made the discovery when I left you a couple of hours ago. +There was just enough left to take me to Rodding, so I pelted off at once +to some motorworks I knew of there, only to find the place was empty. +It's a hole of a town. There was some game on, and I couldn't get a +conveyance anywhere. So I just put up the motor and came back across +country on foot. I don't see what else I could have done, do you?" + +Anne did not for the moment, but she was considering the situation too +rapidly to answer him. + +"My only consolation," he went on, "is that you have got a change of +raiment, which is more than I have. Oh, yes, I had the sense to think of +that contingency. Your bag is at the inn here, waiting for you." + +"You had better have taken me back with you to Rodding," Anne said. + +"Yes, I know. But I expected to be back in half an hour if all went well. +It's easy to be wise after the event, isn't it? I've thought of that +myself since." Nap picked up a twig and bit it viciously. "Anyway, there +is some tea waiting for us. Shall we go back?" + +Anne turned beside him. "Then what do you propose to do?" + +He glanced at her. "Nothing before morning, I'm afraid. There is no +vehicle to be had here. I will send someone down to Rodding in the +morning for a conveyance. We can take the train from there to Staps, +where I can get some petrol. We ought by that means to reach home +sometime in the afternoon. It is the only feasible plan, I am afraid; +unless you can suggest a better." + +He looked at her keenly, still biting at the twig between his teeth. + +Anne walked for several seconds in silence. At last, "Would it be quite +impossible to walk to Rodding now?" she asked. + +"Not at all," said Nap. "It is about eight miles through the woods. We +should be benighted, of course. Also I fancy there is a storm coming up. +But if you wish to make the attempt--" + +"I was only wondering," she said quietly, "if we could get an evening +train to Staps. That, I know, is on the main line. You could put up +there, and I could take the night train to town." + +"Oh, quite so," said Nap. "Shall we have tea before we start?" + +They had emerged from the wood and were beginning to climb the hill. The +veiled sunlight gave an unreal effect to the landscape. The broom bushes +looked ghostly. + +Anne gave an uneasy glance around. "I believe you are right about the +storm," she said. + +"I generally am right," observed Nap. + +They walked on. "I shouldn't like to be benighted in the woods," she said +presently. + +His scoffing smile showed for an instant. "Alone with me too! Most +improper!" + +"I was thinking we might miss the way," Anne returned with dignity. "I +wonder--shall we risk it?" + +She turned to him as if consulting him, but Nap's face was to the sky. +"That is for you to decide," he said. "We might do it. The storm won't +break at present." + +"It will be violent when it does," she said. + +He nodded. "It will." + +She quickened her steps instinctively, and he lengthened his stride. The +smile had ceased to twitch his lips. + +"Have you decided?" he asked her suddenly, and his voice sounded +almost stern. + +They were nearing the top of the hill. She paused, panting a little. +"Yes. I will spend the night here." + +He gave her a glance of approval. "You are a wise woman." + +"I hope so," said Anne. "I must telegraph at once to Dimsdale and tell +him not to expect me." + +Nap's glance fell away from her. He said nothing whatever. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN THE FACE OF THE GODS + + +"Thank the gods, we are the only guests!" said Nap that evening, as they +sat down to dine at the table at which they had lunched. + +The glare of a lurid sunset streamed across the sky and earth. There was +a waiting stillness upon all things. It was the hush before the storm. + +An unwonted restlessness had taken possession of Anne. She did not echo +his thanksgiving, an omission which he did not fail to note, but upon +which he made no comment. + +It was in fact scarcely a place for any but day visitors, being some +considerable distance from the beaten track. The dinner placed before +them was not of a very tempting description, and Anne's appetite dwindled +very rapidly. + +"You must eat something," urged Nap. "Satisfy your hunger with +strawberries and cream." + +But Anne had no hunger to satisfy, and she presently rose from the table +with something like a sigh of relief. + +They went into the drawing-room, a room smelling strongly of musk, and +littered largely with furniture of every description. Nap opened wide a +door-window that led into a miniature rosegarden. Beyond stretched the +common, every detail standing out with marvellous vividness in the weird +storm-light. + +"St. Christopher!" he murmured softly. "We are going to catch it." + +Anne sat down in a low chair near him, gazing forth in silence, her chin +on her hand. + +He turned a little and looked down at her, and thus some minutes slipped +away, the man as tensely still as the awe-stricken world without, the +woman deep in thought. + +He moved at last with a curious gesture as if he freed and restrained +himself by the same action. + +"Why don't you think out loud?" he said. + +She raised her eyes for a moment. "I was thinking of my husband," she +said. + +He made a sharp movement--a movement that was almost fierce--and again +seemed to take a fresh grip upon himself. His black brows met above his +brooding eyes. "Can't you leave him out of the reckoning for this one +night?" he asked. + +"I think not," she answered quietly. + +He turned his face to the sinking sun. It shone like a smouldering +furnace behind bars of inky cloud. + +"You told me once," he said, speaking with obvious constraint, "that you +did not think you would ever live with him again." + +She stifled a sigh in her throat. "I thought so then." + +"And what has happened to make you change your mind?" + +Anne was silent. She could not have seen the fire that leapt and darted +in the dusky eyes had she been looking at him, but she was not looking. +Her chin was back upon her hand. She was gazing out into the darkening +world with the eyes of a woman who sees once more departed visions. + +"I think," she said slowly at length, as he waited immovably for her +answer, "that I see my duty more clearly now than then." + +"Duty! Duty!" he said impatiently. "Duty is your fetish. You sacrifice +your whole life to it. And what do you get in return? A sense of virtue +perhaps, nothing more. There isn't much warming power in virtue. I've +tried it and I know!" He broke off to utter a very bitter laugh. "And so +I've given it up," he said. "It's a trail that leads to nowhere." + +Anne's brows drew together for an instant. "I hoped you might come to +think otherwise," she said. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "How can I? I've lived the life of a saint for +the past six months, and I am no nearer heaven than when I began. It's +too slow a process for me. I wasn't made to plough an endless furrow." + +"We all of us say that," said Anne, with her faint smile. "But do we +any of us really know what we were made for? Are we not all in the +making still?" + +He thrust out his chin. "I can't be abstruse tonight. I know what I +was made for, and I know what you were made for. That--anyway for +tonight--is all that matters." + +He spoke almost brutally, yet still he held himself as it were aloof. He +was staring unblinking into the sunset. Already the furnace was dying +down. The thunder-clouds were closing up. The black bars had drawn +together into one immense mass, advancing, ominous. Only through a single +narrow slit the red light still shone. + +Mutely they watched it pass, Anne with her sad eyes fixed and thoughtful, +Nap still with that suggestion of restrained activity as if he watched +for a signal. + +Gradually the rift closed, and a breathless darkness came. + +Anne uttered a little sigh. "I wish the storm would break," she said. "I +am tired of waiting." + +As if in answer, out of the west there rose a long low rumble. + +"Ah!" she said, and no more. + +For as if the signal had come, Nap turned with a movement +incredibly swift, a movement that was almost a spring, and caught her +up into his arms. + +"Are you tired of waiting, my Queen--my Queen?" he said, and there was a +note of fierce laughter in his words. "Then--by heaven--you shall wait +no longer!" + +His quick breath scorched her face, and in a moment, almost before she +knew what was happening, his lips were on her own. He kissed her as she +had never been kissed before--a single fiery kiss that sent all the blood +in tumult to her heart. She shrank and quivered under it, but she was +powerless to escape. There was sheer unshackled savagery in the holding +of his arms, and dismay thrilled her through and through. + +Yet, as his lips left hers, she managed to speak, though her voice was no +more than a gasping whisper. "Nap, are you mad? Let me go!" + +But he only held her faster, faster still. + +"Yes, I am mad," he said, and the words came quick and passionate, the +lips that uttered them still close to her own. "I am mad for you, Anne. I +worship you. And I swear that while I live no other man shall ever hold +you in his arms again. Anne--goddess--queen--woman--you are mine--you +are mine--you are mine!" + +Again his lips pressed hers, and again from head to foot she felt as if a +flame had scorched her. Desperately she began to resist him though +terribly conscious that he had her at his mercy. But he quelled her +resistance instantly, with a mastery that made her know more thoroughly +her utter impotence. + +"Do you think that you can hold me in check for ever?" he said. "I tell +you it only makes me worse. I am a savage, and chains of that sort won't +hold me. What is the good of fighting against fate? You have done it as +long as I have known you; but you are beaten at last. Oh, you may turn +your face from me. It makes no difference now. I've played for this, and +I've won! You have been goddess to me ever since the day I met you. +To-night--you shall be woman!" + +He broke into a low, exultant laugh. She could feel the fierce beating of +his heart, and her own died within her. The blaze of his passion ringed +her round like a forest fire in which all things perish. + +But even then she knew that somewhere, somewhere, there was a way of +escape, and with the instinct of the hunted creature she sought it. + +"To-night," she said, "I shall know whether you have ever really +loved me." + +"What?" he said. "You dare to question that now? Do you want to put me to +the proof then? Shall I show you how much I love you?" + +"No," she said. "Take your arms away!" + +She did not expect his obedience, but on the instant he spread them wide +and released her. + +"And now?" he said. + +She almost tottered, so amazing had been his compliance. And then as +swiftly--came the knowledge that he had not really set her free. It had +pleased him to humour her, that was all. He stood before her with all the +arrogance of a conqueror. And through the gathering darkness his eyes +shone like the eyes of a tiger--two flames piercing the gloom. + +She mustered all her strength to face him, confronting him with that +unconscious majesty that first had drawn him to her. + +"And now," she said, "let us once and for all understand one another." + +"What?" he said. "Don't you understand me yet? Don't you +realise--yet--that when a man of my stamp wants a woman he--takes her?" + +Again there throbbed in his voice that deep note of savagery, such +savagery as made her quail. But it was no moment for shrinking. She knew +instinctively that at the first sign of weakness he would take her back +into his arms. + +She straightened herself therefore, summoning all her pride. "Do you +really think I am the sort of woman to be taken so?" she asked. "Do you +really think I am yours for the taking? If so, then you have never known +me. Nor--till this moment--have I known you." + +He heard her without the faintest hint of astonishment or shame, standing +before her with that careless animal grace of his that made him in some +fashion superb. + +"Yes," he said, "I really do think you are mine for the taking this time, +but you will admit I've been patient. And I've taken the trouble to make +things easy for you. I've spirited you away without putting you through +any ordeals of hesitation or suspense. I've done it all quite +unobtrusively. To-morrow we go to London, after that to Paris, and after +that--whithersoever you will--anywhere under the sun where we can be +alone. As to knowing each other"--his voice changed subtly, became soft, +with something of a purring quality--"we have all our lives before us, +and we shall be learning every day." + +His absolute assurance struck her dumb. There was something implacable +about it, something unassailable--a stronghold which she felt powerless +to attack. + +"Doesn't that programme attract you?" he said, drawing nearer to her. +"Can you suggest a better? The whole world is before us. Shall we go +exploring, you and I, alone in the wilds, and find some Eden that no man +has ever trodden before? Shall we, Anne? Shall we? Right away from +everywhere, somewhere in the sun, where I can teach you to be happy and +you can teach me to be--good." + +But at his movement she moved also, drawing back. "No!" she said. Her +voice was low, but not lacking in strength. Having spoken, she went on +almost without effort. "You are building upon a false foundation. If it +were not so, I don't think I could possibly forgive you. As it is, I +think when you realise your mistake you will find it hard to forgive +yourself. I have treated you as a friend because I thought I could do so +with safety. I thought for the sake of my friendship you had given up all +thought of anything else. I thought you were to be trusted and I trusted +you. Oh, I admit I ought to have known you better. But I shall never +make that mistake again." + +"No," Nap said. "I don't think you will." + +He spoke deliberately; he almost drawled. Yet a sense of danger stabbed +her. His sudden coldness was more terrible than his heat. + +"But why say this to me now?" he said. "Do you think it will make any +difference?" + +He had not moved as he uttered the words, and yet she felt as if he +menaced her. He made her think of a crouching tiger--a tiger whose +devotion had turned to sudden animosity. + +She did not shrink from him, but her heart quickened. "It must make a +difference," she said. "You have utterly misunderstood me, or you would +never have brought me here." + +"Don't be too sure of that," he returned. "It may be that you can deceive +yourself more easily than you can deceive me. Or again, it may be that I +have come to the end of my patience and have decided to take by storm +what cannot be won by waiting." + +She drew herself up proudly. "And you call that--love!" she said, with a +scorn that she had never before turned against him. "You dare to call +that--love!" + +"Call it what you will!" he flashed back. "It is something that can crush +your cold virtue into atoms, something that can turn you from a marble +saint into a living woman of flesh and blood. For your sake I've +tried--I've agonised--to reach your level. And I've failed because I +can't breathe there. To-night you shall come down from your heights to +mine. You who have never lived yet shall know life--as I know +it--to-night!" + +Fiercely he flung the words, and the breath of his passion was like a +fiery blast blown from the heart of a raging furnace. But still she did +not shrink before him. Proud and calm she waited, bearing herself with a +queenly courage that never faltered. + +And it was as if she stood in a magic circle, for he raised no hand to +touch her. Without word or movement she kept him at bay. Erect, +unflinching, regal, she held her own. + +He caught his breath as he faced her. The beast in him slunk back afraid, +but the devil urged him forward. He came close to her, peering into her +face, searching for that weak place in every woman's armour which the +devil generally knows how to find. But still he did not offer to touch +her. He had let her go out of his arms when he had believed her his own, +and now he could not take her again. + +"Anne," he said suddenly, "where is your love for me? I will swear you +loved me once." + +"I never loved you," she answered, her words clear-cut, cold as steel. "I +never loved you. Once, it is true, I fancied that you were such a man as +I could have loved. But that passed. I did not know you in those days. I +know you now." + +"And hate me for what you know?" he said. + +"No," she answered. "I do not even hate you." + +"What then?" he gibed. "You are--sorry for me perhaps?" + +"No!" Very distinct and steady came her reply. "I only despise you now." + +"What?" he said. + +"I despise you," she repeated slowly, "knowing what you might be, and +knowing--what you are." + +The words passed out in silence--a silence so tense that it seemed as if +the world itself had stopped. Through it after many seconds came Nap's +voice, so softly that it scarcely seemed to break it. + +"It is not always wise to despise an enemy, Lady Carfax--especially if +you chance to be in that enemy's power." + +She did not deign to answer; but her gaze did not flinch from his, nor +did her pride waver. + +He drew something abruptly from his pocket and held it up before her. "Do +you see this?" + +She stirred then, ever so slightly, a movement wholly involuntary, +instantly checked. "Are you going to shoot me?" she asked. + +"I thought that would make you speak," he remarked. "And you still +despise me?" + +Her breathing had quickened, but her answer was instant; for the first +time it held a throb of anger. "I despise you for a coward. You are even +viler than I thought." + +He returned the weapon to his pocket. "It is not for you," he said. "I am +more primitive than that. It is for the man who stands between us, for +the man who thought he could whip Nap Errol--and live. I have never gone +unarmed since." + +He paused a moment, grimly regarding her. Then, "There is only one +thing I will take in exchange for that man's life," he said. +"Only--one--thing!" + +But she stood like a statue, uttering no word. + +A sudden gust of passion swept over him, lashing him to headlong fury. +"And that one thing I mean to have!" he told her violently. "No power in +heaven or hell shall keep you from me. I tell you"--his voice rose, and +in the darkness those two flames glowed more redly, such flames as had +surely never burned before in the face of a man--"whatever you may say, +you are mine, and in your heart you know it. Sooner or later--sooner or +later--I will make you own it." His voice sank suddenly to a whisper, no +longer passionate, only inexpressibly evil. "Will you despise me then, +Queen Anne? I wonder!--I wonder!" + +She moved at last, raised her hand, stiffly pointed. "Go!" she +said. "Go!" + +Yet for a space he still stood in the doorway, menacing her, a vital +figure, lithe, erect, dominant. The tension was terrible. It seemed to be +strained to snapping point, and yet it held. + +It was the fiercest battle she had ever known--a battle in which his will +grappled with hers in a mighty, all-mastering grip, increasing every +instant till she felt crushed, impotent, lost, as if all the powers of +evil were let loose and seething around her, dragging her down. + +Her resolution began to falter at last. She became conscious of a numbing +sense of physical weakness, an oppression so overwhelming that she +thought her heart would never beat again. Once more she seemed to totter +on the edge of a depth too immense to contemplate, to hover above the +very pit of destruction... + +And then suddenly the ordeal was over. A blinding flash of lightning lit +the room, glimmered weirdly, splitting the gloom as a sword rending a +curtain, and was gone. There came a sound like the snarl of a startled +animal, and the next instant a frightful crash of thunder. + +Anne reeled back, dazed, stunned, utterly unnerved, and sank into a +chair. + +When she came to herself she was alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AN APPEAL AND ITS ANSWER + + +A puff of rain-washed air wandered in through the wide-flung window, and +Lucas Errol turned his head languidly upon the pillow to feel it on his +face. He sighed as he moved, as if even that slight exertion cost him +some resolution. His eyes had a heavy, drugged look. They seemed more +deeply sunken than usual, but there was no sleep in them, only the utter +weariness that follows the sleep of morphia. + +At the soft opening of the door a faint frown drew his forehead, but it +turned to a smile as Bertie came forward with cautious tread. + +"That you, dear fellow? I am awake." + +Bertie came to his side, his brown face full of concern. "Are you better, +old chap?" + +"Yes, better, thanks. Only so dog-tired. Sit down. Have you brought +the budget?" + +"There's nothing much to-day. Only that chap Cradock writing again for +instructions about the Arizona ranch, and a few Wall Street tips from +Marsh by cable. Say, Luke, I don't think Cradock is overweighted with +spunk, never have thought so. Guess that ranch wants a bigger man." + +"I'll see his letter," said Lucas. "Presently will do. What about Marsh?" + +"Oh, he's behind the scenes as usual. You'd better read him now. The rest +will keep. When you've done that I want to talk to you." + +"So I gathered. Stuff in another pillow behind me, will you? I can think +better sitting up." + +"I shouldn't, old chap, really. You're always easier lying down." + +"Oh, shucks, Bertie! Do as you're told. And don't look at me like that, +you old duffer. It's a mean advantage to take of a sick man. Steady +now, steady! Go slow! You mustn't slam a creaking gate. It's bad for +the hinges." + +But notwithstanding Bertie's utmost care there were heavy drops on his +brother's forehead as he sank again upon his pillows. Bertie wiped them +away with a hand that trembled a little, and Lucas smiled up at him with +twitching lips. + +"Thanks, boy! It was only a twinge. Sit down again, and give me Marsh's +cipher and the morning papers. The letters you shall read to me +presently." + +He straightway immersed himself in business matters with the shrewdness +and concentration that ever aroused his young brother's deepest +admiration. + +"What a marvellous grip you've got on things, Luke!" he exclaimed at the +end of it. "No wonder you are always on the top! You're great, man, +you're great!" + +"I guess it's just my speciality," the millionaire said, with his weary +smile. "I must be getting another secretary soon, boy. It's a shame to +eat up your time like this. What is it you want to talk to me about? +Going to get married?" + +Bertie shook his head. "The padre won't hear of it yet, and Dot +herself--well, you know, I said I'd wait." + +"Don't wait too long," said Lucas quietly. "You shall have the old Dower +House to live in. Tell the padre that. It's only a stone's throw from the +Rectory. We'll build a garage too, eh, Bertie? The wife must have her +motor. And presently, when you are called to the Bar, you will want a +flat in town." + +"You're a brick, Luke!" the boy declared, with shining eyes. "Between +ourselves, I don't expect to do much at the Bar, but I'm sticking to it +just to show 'em I can work like the rest of creation. I'd sooner be your +secretary for all time, and you know it." + +"That so?" Lucas stretched a hand towards him. "But I guess you're right. +I don't want you to depend on me for employment. If I were to go out one +of these days you'd feel rather left. It's better you should have other +resources." + +"Luke, I say! Luke!" + +But the quick distress of the words was checked by the gentle restraint +of Lucas's hand. "I know! I know! But we've all got to die sooner or +later, and one doesn't want to tear a larger hole than one need. That's +all right, Bertie boy. We'll shunt the subject. Only, if you want to +please me, get that nice little girl to marry you soon. Now what was it +you wanted to say? Something about Nap?" + +"Yes. How did you know? It's an infernal shame to worry you when you're +not fit for it. But the mother and I both think you ought to know." + +"Go ahead, dear fellow! I'm tougher than you think. What has +become of Nap?" + +"That's just the question. You know he went off in the car with Lady +Carfax yesterday morning?" + +"I didn't know," murmured Lucas. "That's a detail. Go on." + +"Late last night the car had not returned, and the mother began to +wonder. Of course if Lady Carfax hadn't been there it wouldn't have +mattered much, but as it was we got anxious, and in the end I posted off +to the Manor to know if she had arrived. She had not. But while I was +there a wire came for the butler from a place called Bramhurst, which is +about fifty miles away, to say that the car had broken down and they +couldn't return before to-day. Well, that looked to me deuced queer. I'm +convinced that Nap is up to some devilry. What on earth induced her to +go there with him anyway? The mother was real bothered about it, and so +was I. We couldn't rest, either of us. And in the end she ordered the big +Daimler and went off to Bramhurst herself. I wanted to go with her, but +she wouldn't have me at any price. You know the mother. So I stopped to +look after things here. Everyone cleared off this morning, thank the +gods. I don't think anyone smelt a rat. I told them the mother had gone +to nurse a sick friend, and it seemed to go down all right." + +Lucas had listened to the recital with closed eyes and a perfectly +expressionless face. He did not speak for a few moments when Bertie +ended. At length, "And the mother is not back yet?" he asked. + +"No. But I'm not afraid for her. She knows how to hold her own." + +"That's so," Lucas conceded; and fell silent again. + +He was frowning a little as if in contemplation of some difficulty, but +his composure was absolute. + +"There may be nothing in it," he said at last. + +Bertie grunted. "I knew he was in a wild beast mood before they started. +He nearly rode the black mare to death in the early morning." + +"Why wasn't I told of that?" Lucas opened his eyes with the question and +looked directly at his brother's worried countenance. + +"My dear fellow, you were too sick to be bothered. Besides, you were +taking morphia. He saw to that." + +Lucas closed his eyes again without comment, A long pause ensued before +he spoke again. + +Then: "Bertie," he said, "go down to the garage and leave word that as +soon as Nap returns I want to speak to him." + +"He won't return," said Bertie, with conviction. + +"I think he will. It is even possible that he has returned already. In +any case, go and tell them. Ah, Tawny, what is it?" + +The valet came to his master's side. His hideous features wore an +expression that made them almost benign. The dumb devotion of an animal +looked out of his eyes. + +"A note, sir, from the Manor." + +"Who brought it?" asked Lucas. + +"A groom, sir." + +"Waiting for an answer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Lucas opened the note. It was from Anne. + +He read a few lines, then glanced at Bertie. "It's all right, Bertie. Go +and give that message, will you? Say it's important--an urgent matter of +business." + +Bertie departed, and Lucas's eyes returned to the sheet he held. + +Tawny Hudson stood motionless beside him, and several silent seconds +ticked away. His master spoke at length. + +"Pen and paper, Tawny. Yes, that's right. Now put your arm behind the +pillows and give me a hoist. Slowly now, slowly!" + +And then, as the man supported him, very slowly and unsteadily he traced +a few words. + +"Don't worry. All's well.--Lucas." + +Abruptly the pen fell from his fingers; his head dropped back. His face +was drawn and ghastly as he uttered a few gasping whispers. "Tawny, give +me something--quick! This pain is--killing me!" + +The man lowered him again, and took a bottle from a side-table. As he +measured some drops into a glass the only sound in the room was his +master's agonised breathing. + +Yet he knew without turning that someone had entered, and he betrayed no +surprise when Nap's hand suddenly whisked the glass from his hold and +held it to the panting lips. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE IRRESISTIBLE + + +The first words Lucas uttered when utterance became possible to him were, +"No morphia!" + +Nap was deftly drawing away the pillows to ease his position. "All right, +old fellow," he made answer. "But you know you can't sit up when you are +like this. What possessed you to try?" + +"Business," murmured Lucas. "Don't go again, Boney. I want you." + +"So I've been told. I am quite at your service. Don't speak till you +feel better." + +"Ah! I am better now. There's magic about you, I believe. Or is it +electricity?" Lucas's eyes rested on the grim face above him with a +certain wistfulness. + +Nap only smiled cynically. "Is Hudson to take this note? Can I address +it for you?" + +If he expected to cause any discomfiture by the suggestion he was +disappointed. Lucas answered him with absolute composure. + +"Yes; to Lady Carfax at the Manor. It is to go at once." + +Nap thrust it into an envelope with a perfectly inscrutable countenance, +scrawled the address, and handed it to the valet. "You needn't come back +till you are rung for," he said. + +And with that he calmly seated himself by his brother's side with the air +of a man with ample leisure at his disposal. + +As the door closed he spoke. "Hadn't you better have a smoke?" + +"No. I must talk first. I wish you would sit where I can see you." + +Nap pulled his chair round at once and sat in the full glare of the +noonday sun. "Is that enough lime-light for you? Now, what ails the great +chief? Does he think his brother will run away while he sleeps?" + +There was a hint of tenderness underlying the banter in his voice. He +stooped with the words and picked up a letter that lay on the floor. +"This yours?" + +Lucas's half-extended hand fell. "And you may read it," he said. + +"Many thanks! I don't read women's letters unless they chance to be +addressed to me--no, not even if they concern me very nearly." Nap's +teeth gleamed for a moment. "I'm afraid you must play off your own bat, +my worthy brother, though if you take my advice you'll postpone it. +You're about used up, and I'm deuced thirsty. It's not a peaceful +combination." + +Again, despite the nonchalance of his speech, it was not without a +certain gentleness. He laid the letter on the bed within reach of his +brother's hand. + +"I won't leave the premises till you have had your turn," he said. "I +guess that's a fair offer anyway. Now curl up and rest." + +But Lucas negatived the suggestion instantly though very quietly. "I'll +take my turn now if you've no objection. That ranch in Arizona, Boney, is +beginning to worry me some. I want you to take it in hand. It's a little +job peculiarly suited to your abilities." + +Nap jerked up his head with an odd gesture, not solely indicative of +surprise. "What do you know of my abilities?" + +"More than most." Very steadily Lucas made answer. "I depend on you in a +fashion you little dream of, and I guess you won't fail me." + +Nap's jaw slowly hardened. "I'm not very likely to disappoint you," he +observed, "more especially as I have no intention of removing to Arizona +at present." + +"No?" + +"No." + +"Not if I make a point of it?" Lucas spoke heavily, as if the effort of +speech were great. His hand had clenched upon Anne's letter. + +Nap leaned forward without replying, the sunlight still shining upon his +face, and looked at him attentively. + +"Yes," Lucas said very wearily. "It has come to that. I can't have you +here disturbing the public peace. I won't have my own brother arraigned +as a murderer. Nor will I have Anne Carfax pilloried by you for all +England to throw mud at. I've stood a good deal from you, Boney, but I'm +damned if I'm going to stand this." + +"The only question is, Can you prevent it?" said Nap, without the +faintest change of countenance. + +"I am going to prevent it." + +"If you can." + +"I am going to prevent it," Lucas repeated. "Before we go any further, +give me that shooter of yours." + +Nap hesitated for a single instant, then, with a gesture openly +contemptuous, he took the revolver from his pocket and tossed it on +to the bed. + +Lucas laid his hand upon it. He was looking full into Nap's face. "Now, I +want you to tell me something," he said. "I seem to remember your saying +to me once in this very room that you and Lady Carfax were friends, no +more, no less. You were mighty anxious that I shouldn't misunderstand. +Remember that episode?" + +"Perfectly," said Nap. + +"I surmised that you told me that because you honestly cared for her as a +friend. Was that so?" + +Nap made a slight movement, such a movement as a man makes when he +catches sight of a stone to his path too late to avoid it. + +"You may say so if you wish," he said. + +"Meaning that things have changed since then?" questioned Lucas, in his +tired drawl. + +Nap threw up his head with the action of a jibbing horse. "You can put it +how you like. You can say--if you like--that I am a bigger blackguard now +than I was then. It makes no difference how you put it." + +"But I want to know," said Lucas quietly. "Are you a blackguard, Boney?" + +His eyes were fixed steadily upon the dusky face with its prominent +cheek-bones and mocking mouth. Perhaps he knew, what Anne had discovered +long before, that those sensitive lips might easily reveal what the +fierce eyes hid. + +"A matter of opinion," threw back Nap. "If I am, Anne Carfax has +made me so." + +"Anne Carfax," said Lucas very deliberately, "has done her best to make a +man of you. It is not her fault if she has failed. It is not her fault +that you have chosen to drag her friendship through the mire." + +"Friendship!" broke in Nap. "She gave me more than that." + +Lucas's brows contracted as if at a sudden dart of pain, but his voice +was perfectly level as he made reply: "Whatever she gave you was the gift +of a good woman of which you have proved yourself utterly unworthy." + +Nap sprang to his feet. "Be it so!" he exclaimed harshly. "I am unworthy. +What of it? She always knew I was." + +"Yet she trusted you." + +"She trusted me, yes. Having cast out the devil she found in possession, +she thought there was nothing more to me. She thought that I should be +content to wander empty all my days through dry places, seeking rest. She +forgot the sequel, forgot what was bound to happen when I found none. You +seem to have forgotten that too. Or do you think that I am indeed that +interesting vacuum that you are pleased to call a gentleman?" He flung +his arms wide with a sudden, passionate laugh. "Why, my good fellow, I'd +sooner rank myself with the beasts that perish. And I'd sooner perish +too; yes, die with a rope round my throat in the good old English +fashion. There's nothing in that. I'd as soon die that way as any other. +It may not be so artistic as our method, but it's quite a clean process, +and the ultimate result is the same." + +"Do you mind sitting down?" said Lucas. + +Nap looked at him sharply. "In pain again?" + +"Sit down," Lucas reiterated. "You can't do anything more than that. Now +will you take the trouble to make me understand what exactly are your +present intentions, and why?" + +"Doesn't that letter tell you?" said Nap. + +"This letter," Lucas answered, "is the desperate appeal of a very unhappy +woman who is in mortal dread of your murdering her husband." + +"That all?" said Nap. The red glare of savagery flickered for an instant +in his eyes. "She has no fears on her own account then?" + +"Will you explain?" + +"Oh, certainly, if you need explanation. I mean that the death of Sir +Giles Carfax is no more than a stepping-stone, a means to an end. So long +as he lives, he will stand in my way. Therefore Sir Giles will go. And +mark me, any other man who attempts to come between us I will kill also. +Heaven knows what there is in her that attracts me, but there is +something--something I have never seen in any other woman--something that +goes to my head. Oh, I'm not in love with her. I'm long past that stage. +One can't be in love for ever, and she is as cold as the North Star +anyway. But she has driven me mad, and I warn you--I warn you--you had +better not interfere with me!" + +He flung the words like a challenge. His lower jaw was thrust forward. He +looked like a savage animal menacing his keeper. + +But Lucas lay without moving a muscle, lay still and quiet, without +tension and without emotion of any description, simply watching, as a +disinterested spectator might watch, the fiery rebellion that had kindled +against him. + +At length very deliberately he held out the revolver. + +"Well," he drawled, "my life isn't worth much, it's true. And you are +quite welcome to take your gun and end it here and now if you feel so +disposed. For I warn you, Nap Errol, that you'll find me considerably +more in your way than Sir Giles Carfax or any other man. I stand between +you already, and while I live you won't shunt me." + +Nap's lips showed their scoffing smile. "Unfortunately--or otherwise--you +are out of the reckoning," he said. + +"Am I? And how long have I been that?" + +Nap was silent. He looked suddenly stubborn. + +Lucas waited. There was even a hint of humour in his steady eyes. + +"And that's where you begin to make a mistake," he said presently. +"You're a poor sort of blackguard at best, Boney, and that's why you +can't break away. Take this thing! I've no use for it. But maybe in +Arizona you'll find it advisable to carry arms. Come over here and read +Cradock's letter." + +But Nap swung away with a gesture of fierce unrest. He fell to prowling +to and fro, stopping short of the bed at each turn, refusing doggedly to +face the quiet eyes of the man who lay there. + +Minutes passed. Lucas was still watching, but he was no longer at his +ease. His brows were drawn heavily. He looked like a man undergoing +torture. His hand was still fast closed upon Anne's letter. + +He spoke at last, seeming to grind out the words through clenched teeth. +"I guess there's no help for it, Boney. We've figured it out before, you +and I. I'm no great swell at fighting, but--I can hold my own against +you. And if it comes to a tug-of-war--you'll lose." + +Nap came to his side at last and stood there, still not looking at him. +"You seem almighty sure of that," he said. + +"That's so," said Lucas simply. "And if you care to know why, I'll tell +you. It's just because your heart isn't in it. One half of you is on my +side. You're just not blackguard enough." + +"And so you want to send me to Arizona to mature?" suggested Nap grimly. + +"Or to find yourself," Lucas substituted. "Say, Boney, if you don't give +in pretty soon I'll make you take me along." + +"You!" Nap's eyes came down at last to the drawn face. He gave a slight +start, and the next moment stooped to lift the tortured frame to another +position. "If Capper were here he'd say I was killing you," he said. "For +Heaven's sake, man, rest!" + +"No," gasped Lucas. "No! I haven't finished--yet. Boney, you--you've got +to listen. There's no quarrel between us. Only if you will be so damned +headstrong, I must be headstrong too. I mean what I say. If you won't go +to Arizona alone, you will go with me. And we'll start to-night." + +Nap's thin lips twitched, but with no impulse to ridicule. He rearranged +the pillows with his usual dexterous rapidity, then deliberately laid his +hand upon the lined forehead and stood so in utter silence, staring +unblinking straight before him. + +For many seconds Lucas also lay passive. His eyelids drooped heavily, +but he would not suffer them to close. He was yet watching, watching +narrowly, the flame that still smouldered and might blaze afresh at +any moment. + +"Give it up, Boney!" he said at last. "I'll go with you to the ends of +the earth sooner than let you do this thing, and you'll find me a very +considerable encumbrance. Do you honestly believe yourself capable of +shunting me at will?" + +"I honestly believe you'll kill yourself if you don't rest," Nap said. + +He looked down suddenly into the tired eyes. The fierce glare had gone +utterly out of his own. His very pose had altered. + +"Then I shall die in a good cause," Lucas murmured, with the ghost of a +smile. "You needn't say any more, Boney. I guess I shall rest now." + +"Because you think you've beaten me," Nap said curtly. + +"Guess it's your victory, dear fellow, not mine," Lucas answered +very gently. + +A gleam that was not a smile crossed the harsh face, softening but not +gladdening. "It's a mighty hollow one anyway. And I'm not going for +nothing--not even to please you." + +"Anything--to the half of my kingdom," Lucas said. + +Nap sat down on the edge of the bed. The madness had passed, or he had +thrust it back out of sight in the darkest recesses of his soul. He laid +a hand upon his brother's arm and felt it speculatively. + +"No sinew, no flesh, and scarcely any blood!" he said. "And yet"--his +mouth twisted a little--"my master! Luke, you're a genius!" + +"Oh, shucks, Boney! What's brute strength anyway?" + +"Not much," Nap admitted. "But you--you haven't the force of a day-old +puppy. Maybe, when I'm out of the way fighting my devils in the desert, +you'll give Capper a free hand, and let him make of you what you were +always intended to be--a human masterpiece. There won't be any obstacles +when I'm out of the way." + +Lucas's hand felt for and closed upon his. "If that's your condition, +it's a bargain," he said simply. + +"And you'll put up a fight for it, eh, Luke? You're rather apt to slack +when I'm not by." Was there a hint of wistfulness in the words? It almost +seemed so. + +A very tender look came into the elder man's eyes. "With God's help, +Boney," he said, "I'll pull through." + +Nap rose as if that ended the interview. Yet, rising, he still gripped +the weak hand of the man who was his master. + +A moment he stood, then suddenly bent very low and touched it with +his forehead. + +"I leave to-night," he said, and turning went very quickly and +noiselessly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ON THE EDGE OF THE PIT + + +It was a very cheery Dot Waring who ran across the wet fields that +afternoon to the Manor to acquaint Lady Carfax with the gratifying +intelligence that the proceeds of the great entertainment at which she +had so kindly assisted actually amounted to close upon thirty pounds. +Baronford had done its humble best towards providing itself with a Town +Hall, had in fact transcended all expectations, and Dot was in high +spirits in consequence. + +It was something of a disappointment to be met by old Dimsdale with the +intelligence that her ladyship was very tired and resting. He added, +seeing Dot's face fall, that Mrs. Errol was spending a few days at the +Manor and would no doubt be very pleased to see her. + +So Dot entered, and was presently embraced by Mrs. Errol and invited to +take tea with her in the conservatory. + +"Yes, dear Anne's in bed," she said. "She and Nap went for a motor ride +yesterday, and broke down and were benighted. Nap always was sort of +reckless. We had a message late last night telling us what had happened, +and I went off at once in the big car and brought Anne back. Nap had to +wait for his own car, but I guess he's back by this time. And poor Anne +was so worn out when we got back that I persuaded her to go to bed right +away. And I stopped to take care of her." + +In view of the fact that Mrs. Errol was never happier than when she had +someone to take care of, this seemed but natural, and Dot's +straightforward mind found nothing unusual in the story. + +She remained for nearly an hour, chattering gaily upon a thousand topics. +She was always at her ease with Mrs. Errol. + +At parting, the latter held her for a moment very closely. "Happy, +dearie?" she asked. + +"Oh, ever so happy," said Dot, with warm arms round her friend's neck. + +Mrs. Errol sighed a little, smiled and kissed her. "God keep you so, +child!" she said. + +And Dot went forth again into the hazy summer sunshine with a vague +wonder if dear Mrs. Errol were quite happy too. Somehow she had not +liked to ask. + +Her way lay over the shoulder of a hill, that same hill on which Sir +Giles Carfax had once wreaked his mad vengeance upon his enemy. + +A mist lay along the valley, and Dot kept on the ridge as long as she +could. She was essentially a creature of sunshine. + +She was obliged, however, at last to strike downwards, and with regret +she left the sunshine behind. + +The moment it was out of her eyes she caught sight of something she had +not expected to see in the valley below her. It was not a hundred yards +away, but the mist rising from the marshy ground partially obscured it. A +dark object, curiously shapeless, that yet had the look of an animal, was +lying in a hollow, and over it bent the figure of a man. + +Dot's heart quickened a little. Had there been an accident, she asked +herself? She hastened her steps and drew near. + +As she did so, the man straightened himself suddenly, and turned round, +and instantly a thrill of recognition and of horror went through the +girl. It was Nap Errol, and the thing on the ground was his black mare. + +She knew in a flash what had happened. Bertie had predicted disaster too +often for her not to know. A great wave of repulsion surged through her. +She was for the moment too horrified for speech. + +Nap stood, erect, motionless, waiting for her. There was a terrible set +smile on his face like the smile on a death-mask. He did not utter a word +as she came up. + +The mare was quite dead. The starting, bloodshot eyes were already +glazing. She lay in a huddled heap, mud-stained, froth-splashed, with +blood upon her flanks. White-faced and speechless, Dot stood and looked. +It was the first time that tragedy had ever touched her gay young life. + +She stooped at last, and with trembling, pitiful fingers touched the +velvet muzzle. Then suddenly indignation, fierce, overwhelming, headlong, +swept over her, crowding out even her horror. She stood up and faced Nap +in such a tornado of fury as had never before shaken her. + +"You brute!" she said. "You fiend! You--you--" + +"Devil," said Nap. "Why not say it? I shan't contradict you." + +He spoke quite quietly, so quietly that, even in the wild tempest of her +anger she was awed. There was something unfathomable about him, something +that nevertheless arrested her at the very height of her fury. His manner +was so still, so deadly still, and so utterly free from cynicism. + +She stood and stared at him, a queer sensation of dread making her very +heart feel cold. + +"I should go if I were you," he said. + +But Dot stood still, as if struck powerless. + +"You can't do any good," he went on, his tone quite gentle, even remotely +kind. "I had to kill something, but it was a pity you chanced to see it. +You had better go home and forget it." + +Dot's white lips began to move, but it was several seconds before any +sound came from them. "What are you going to do?" + +"That's my affair," said Nap. + +He was still faintly smiling, but his smile appalled her. It was so +cold, so impersonal, so void of all vitality. + +"Really, you had better go," he said. + +But Dot's dread had begun to take tangible form. Perhaps the very shock +she had undergone had served to awaken in her some of the dormant +instincts of her womanhood. + +She stood her ground, obedient to an inner prompting that she dared not +ignore. "Will you--walk a little way with me?" she said at last. + +For the first time Nap's eyes looked at her intently, searched her +closely, unsparingly. She faced the scrutiny bravely, but she +trembled under it. + +At the end of a lengthy pause he spoke. "Are you going to faint?" + +"No," she answered quickly. "I never faint. Only--only--I do +feel--rather sick." + +He put his hand under her arm with a suddenness that allowed of no +protest and began to march her up the hill. + +Long before they reached the top Dot's face was scarlet with exertion +and she was gasping painfully for breath; but he would not let her rest +till they were over the summit and out of sight of the valley and what +lay there. + +Then, to her relief, he stopped. "Better now?" + +"Yes," she panted. + +His hand fell away from her. He turned to go. But swiftly she turned also +and caught his arm "Nap, please--" she begged, "please--" + +He stood still, and again his eyes scanned her. "Yes?" + +The brief word sounded stern, but Dot was too anxious to take any +note of that. + +"Come a little farther," she urged. "It--it's lonely through the wood." + +"What are you afraid of?" said Nap. + +She could not tell him the truth, and she hesitated to lie. But his +eyes read her through and through without effort. When he turned and +walked beside her she was quite sure that he had fathomed the +unspeakable dread which had been steadily growing within her since the +moment of their meeting. + +He did not say another word, merely paced along with his silent tread +till they reached the small wood through which her path lay. Dot's anger +had wholly left her, but her fear remained. A terrible sense of +responsibility was upon her, and she was utterly at a loss as to how to +cope with it. Her influence over this man she believed to be absolutely +nil. She had not the faintest notion how to deal with him. Lady Carfax +would have known, she reflected, and she wished with all her heart that +Lady Carfax had been there. + +He vaulted the stile into the wood, and held up his hand to her. As she +placed hers within it she summoned her resolution and spoke. + +"Nap, I'm sorry I said what I did just now." + +He raised his brows for the fraction of a second. "I forget what +you said." + +She flushed a little. "Because you don't choose to remember. But I am +sorry I spoke all the same. I lost my temper, and I--I suppose I had no +right to." + +"Pray don't apologise," he said. "It made no difference, I assure you." + +But this was not what Dot wanted. She descended to the ground and tried +again. It was something at least to have broken the silence. + +"Nap," she said, standing still with her hands nervously clasped behind +her, "please don't think me--impertinent, or anything of that sort. But I +can't help knowing that you are feeling pretty bad about it. And--and" +she began to falter--"I know you are not a brute really. You didn't mean +to do it." + +A curious little smile came into Nap's face. "It's good of you to make +excuses for me," he observed. "You happen to know me rather well, +don't you?" + +"I know you are in trouble," she answered rather piteously. +"And--I'm sorry." + +"Thanks!" he said. "Do we part here?" + +She thrust out her hand impulsively. "I thought we decided to +be--friends," she said, a sharp quiver in her voice. + +"Well?" said Nap. He did not touch her hand. His fingers were wound in +the thong of his riding-crop and strained at it incessantly as if seeking +to snap it asunder. + +Dot was on the verge of tears. She choked them back desperately. "You +might behave as if we were," she said. + +He continued to tug grimly at the whip-lash. "I'm not friends with anyone +at the present moment," he said. "But it isn't worth crying over anyway. +Why don't you run home and play draughts with Bertie?" + +"Because I'm not what you take me for!" Dot suddenly laid trembling hands +on the creaking leather and faced him with all her courage. "I can't help +what you think of me," she said rather breathlessly. "But I'm not going +to leave you here by yourself. You may be as furious as you like. I +simply won't!" + +He pulled the whip sharply from her grasp. She thought for the moment +that he actually was furious and braced herself to meet the tempest of +his wrath. And then to her amazement he spoke in a tone that held neither +sarcasm nor resentment, only a detached sort of curiosity. + +"Are you quite sure I'm worth all this trouble?" + +"Quite sure," she answered emphatically. + +"And I wonder how you arrived at that conclusion," he said with a twist +of the mouth that was scarcely humorous. + +She did not answer, for she felt utterly unequal to the discussion. + +They began to walk on down the mossy pathway. Suddenly an idea came to +Dot. "I only wish Lady Carfax were here," she exclaimed impetuously. +"She would know how to convince you of that." + +"Would she?" said Nap. He shot a swift look at the girl beside him, then: +"You see, Lady Carfax has thrown me over," he told her very deliberately. + +Dot gave a great start. "Oh, surely not! She would never throw over +anyone. And you have always been such friends." + +"Till I offended her," said Nap. + +"Oh, but couldn't you go and apologise?" urged Dot eagerly. "She is so +sweet. I know she would forgive anybody." + +He jerked up his head. "I don't happen to want her forgiveness. And +even if I did, I shouldn't ask for it. I'm not particularly great at +humbling myself." + +"Isn't that rather a mistake?" said Dot. + +"No," he rejoined briefly. "Not when I'm despised already for a savage +and the descendant of savages." + +"I am afraid I don't understand," she said. + +He uttered a sudden harsh laugh. "I see you don't. Or you would be +despising me too." + +"I shall never do that," she said quickly. + +He looked at her again, still with a mocking smile upon his lips. He bore +himself with a certain royal pride that made her feel decidedly small. + +"You will never say that again," he remarked. + +"Why not?" she demanded. + +"Because," he answered, with a drawling sneer, "you are like the rest of +creation. You put breed before everything. Unless a man has what you are +pleased to term pure blood in his veins he is beyond the pale." + +"Whatever are you talking about?" said Dot, frankly mystified. + +He stopped dead and faced her. "I am talking of myself, if you want to +know," he told her very bitterly. "I am beyond the pale, an illegitimate +son, with a strain of Red Indian in my veins to complete my damnation." + +"Good gracious!" said Dot. + +She stared at him for a few seconds mutely, as if the sudden announcement +had taken her breath away. + +At last: "Then--then--Mrs. Errol--" she stammered. + +"Is not my mother," he informed her grimly. "Did you ever seriously think +she was?" He flung back his shoulders arrogantly. "You're almighty blind, +you English." + +Dot continued to contemplate him with her frank eyes, as if viewing for +the first time a specimen of some rarity. + +"Well, I don't see that it makes any difference," she said at length. +"You are you just the same. I--I really don't see quite why you told me." + +"No?" said Nap, staring back at her with eyes that told her nothing. +"P'r'aps I just wanted to show you that you are wasting your solicitude +on an object of no value." + +"How--funny of you!" said Dot. + +She paused a moment, still looking at him; then with a quick, childish +movement she slipped her hand through his arm. Quite suddenly she knew +how to deal with him. + +"You seem to forget," she said with a little smile, "that I'm going to be +your sister one day." + +He stiffened at her action, and for a single moment she wondered if she +could have made a mistake. And then as suddenly he relaxed. He took the +hand that rested on his arm and squeezed it hard. + +And Dot knew that in some fashion, by a means which she scarcely +understood, she had gained a victory. + +They went on together along the mossy, winding path. A fleeting shower +was falling, and the patter of it sounded on the leaves. + +Nap walked with his face turned up to the raindrops, sure-footed, with +the gait of a panther. He did not speak a word to the girl beside him, +but his silence, did not disconcert her. There was even something in it +that reassured her. + +They were approaching the farther end of the wood when he abruptly spoke. + +"So you think it makes no difference?" + +Was there a touch of pathos in the question? She could not have said. +But she answered it swiftly, with all the confidence--and +ignorance--of youth. + +"Of course I do! How could it make a difference? Do you suppose--if it +had been Bertie--I should have cared?" + +"Bertie!" he said. "Bertie is a law-abiding citizen. And you--pardon me +for saying so--are young." + +"Oh, yes, I know," she admitted. "But I've got some sense all the same. +And--and--Nap, may I say something rather straight?" + +The flicker of a smile shone and died in his eyes. "Don't mind me!" he +said. "The role of an evangelist becomes you better than some." + +"Don't!" said Dot, turning very red. + +"I didn't," said Nap. "I'm only being brotherly. Hit as straight as +you like." + +"I was going to say," she said, taking him at his word, "that if a man is +a good sort and does his duty, I don't believe one person in a million +cares a rap about what his parents were. I don't indeed." + +She spoke with great earnestness; it was quite obvious that she meant +every word. It was Dot's straightforward way to speak from her heart. + +"And I'm sure Lady Carfax doesn't either," she added. + +But at that Nap set his teeth. "My child, you don't chance to know Lady +Carfax as I do. Moreover, suppose the man doesn't chance to be a good +sort and loathes the very word 'duty'? It brings down the house of cards +rather fast, eh?" + +An older woman might have been discouraged; experience would probably +have sadly acquiesced. But Dot possessed neither age nor experience, and +so she only lost her patience. + +"Oh, but you are absurd!" she exclaimed, shaking his arm with +characteristic vigour. "How can you be so disgustingly flabby? You're +worse than old Squinny, who sends for Dad or me every other day to see +him die. He's fearfully keen on going to heaven, but that's all he ever +does to get there." + +Nap broke into a brief laugh. They had reached the stile and he faced +round with extended hand. "After that--good-bye!" he said. "With your +permission we'll keep this encounter to ourselves. But you certainly are +a rousing evangelist. When you mount the padre's pulpit I'll come and sit +under it." + +Dot's fingers held fast for a moment. "It'll be all right, will it?" she +asked bluntly. "I mean--you'll be sensible?" + +He smiled at her in a way she did not wholly understand, yet which went +straight to her quick heart. + +"So long, little sister!" he said. "Yes, it will be quite all right. I'll +continue to cumber the ground a little longer, if you call that being +sensible. And if you think my chances of heaven are likely to be improved +by your kind intervention, p'r'aps you'll put up a prayer now and then on +my behalf to the Power that casts out devils--for we are many." + +"I will, Nap, I will!" she said very earnestly. + +When he was gone she mounted the stile and paused with her face to the +sky. "Take care of him, please, God!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DELIVERANCE + + +Notwithstanding her largeness of heart, Mrs. Errol was something of a +despot, and when once she had assumed command she was slow to +relinquish it. + +"I guess you must let me have my own way, dear Anne," she said, "for I've +never had a daughter." + +And Anne, to whom the burden of life just then was more than ordinarily +heavy, was fain to submit to the kindly tyranny. Mrs. Errol had found her +alone at the inn at Bramhurst on the night of the storm, and in response +to her earnest request had taken her without delay straight back to her +home. Very little had passed between them on the circumstances that had +resulted in this development. Scarcely had Nap's name been mentioned by +either. Mrs. Errol seemed to know him too well to need an explanation. +And Anne had noted this fact with a sick heart. + +It meant to her the confirmation of what had already become a practical +conviction, that the man she had once dreamed that she loved was no +more than a myth of her own imagination. Again and yet again she had +been deceived, but her eyes were open at last finally and for all time. +No devil's craft, however wily, however convincing, could ever close +them again. + +Lying in her darkened room, with her stretched nerves yet quivering at +every sound, she told herself over and over that she knew Nap Errol now +as others knew him, as he knew himself, a man cruel, merciless, +unscrupulous, in whose dark soul no germ of love had ever stirred. + +Why he had ever desired her she could not determine. Possibly her very +faith in him--that faith that he had so rudely shattered--had been the +attraction; possibly only her aloofness, her pride, had kindled in him +the determination to conquer. But that he had ever loved her, as she +interpreted love, she now told herself was an utter impossibility. She +even questioned in the bitterness of her disillusionment if Love, that +True Romance to which she had offered sacrifice, were not also a myth, +the piteous creation of a woman's fond imagination, a thing non-existent +save in the realms of fancy, a dream-goal to which no man might attain +and very few aspire. + +All through the long day she lay alone with her problem, perpetually +turning it in her mind, perpetually asking by what tragic influence she +had ever been brought to fancy that this man with his violent, +unrestrained nature, his fierce egoism, his murderous impulses, had ever +been worthy of the halo her love had fashioned for him. No man was +worthy! No man was worthy! This man least of all! Had not he himself +warned her over and over again, and she had not listened? Perhaps he had +not meant her to listen. Perhaps it had only been another of his devilish +artifices for ensnaring her, that attitude of humility, half-scoffing, +half-persuasive, with which he had masked his inner vileness. + +Oh, she was sick at heart that day, sick with disappointment, sick with +humiliation, sick with a terrible foreboding that gave her no rest. +Slowly the hours dragged away. She had despatched her urgent message to +Lucas immediately upon her arrival at the Manor, and his prompt reply had +in a measure reassured her. But she knew that he was ill, and she could +not drive from her mind the dread that he might fail her. How could he in +his utter physical weakness hope to master the demons that tore Nap +Errol's turbulent soul? And if Lucas failed her, what then? What then? +She had no city of refuge to flee unto. She and her husband were at the +mercy of a murderer. For that he would keep his word she did not for a +moment doubt. Nap Errol was not as other men. No second thoughts would +deter him from his purpose. Unless Lucas by some miracle withheld him, no +other influence would serve. He would wreak his vengeance with no +hesitating hand. The fire of his savagery was an all-consuming flame, +and it was too strongly kindled to be lightly quenched. + +Her thoughts went back to her husband. The date of his return had not +been definitely fixed. The letter had suggested that it should take place +some time in the following week. She had not yet replied to the +suggestion. She put her hand to her head. Actually she had forgotten! +Ought she not to send a message of warning? But in what terms could she +couch it? Lucas might even yet succeed. It might be that even now he was +fighting the desperate battle. + +Inaction became intolerable. She had promised Mrs. Errol that she would +take a long rest, but there was no rest for her. She knew that she would +hear from Lucas the moment he had anything definite to report; but a new +and ghastly fear now assailed her. What if Nap had not returned to +Baronmead? What if he had gone direct to the asylum, there to snatch his +opportunity while his fury was at its height? + +The thought turned her sick. She rose, scarcely knowing what she did, and +moved across the room to her escritoire. The vague idea of penning some +sort of warning was in her mind, but before she reached it the conviction +stabbed her that it would be too late. No warning would be of any avail. +If that had been Nap Errol's intention, by this time the deed was done. +And if that were so, she was in part guilty of her husband's murder. + +Powerless, she sank upon her knees by the open window, striving +painfully, piteously, vainly, to pray. But no words came to her, no +prayer rose from her wrung heart. It was as though she knelt in outer +darkness before a locked door. + +In that hour Anne Carfax went down into that Place of Desolation which +some call hell and some the bitter school of sorrow--that place in which +each soul is alone with its agony and its sin, that place where no light +shines and no voice is heard, where, groping along the edge of +destruction, the wanderer seeks its Maker and finds Him not, where even +the Son of God Himself once lost His faith. + +And in that hour she knew why her love lay wounded unto death, though not +then did she recognise the revelation as a crowning mercy. She saw +herself bruised and abased, humbled beyond belief. She saw her proud +purity brought low, brought down to the very mire which all her life she +had resolutely ignored, from the very though of which she had always +withdrawn herself as from an evil miasma that bred corruption. She saw +herself a sinner, sunk incredibly low, a woman who had worshipped Love +indeed, but at a forbidden shrine, a woman moreover bereft of all things, +who had seen her sacrifice crumble to ashes and had no more to offer. + +Through her mind flashed a single sentence that had often and often set +her wondering: "From him that hath not shall be taken away even that +which he seemeth to have." She knew its meaning now. It scorched her +inmost soul. Such an one was she. No effort had she ever made to possess +her husband's love. No love had she ever offered to him; duty and +submission indeed, but love--never. Her heart had been unwarmed, nor had +she ever sought to kindle within it the faintest spark. She had hated him +always. She knew it now. Or perhaps her feeling for him had been +something too cold for even hatred. If he had made her drink the waters +of bitterness, she had given him in return the icy draught of contempt. + +There had been a time when his passion for her might have turned to love, +but she had let it slide. She had not wanted love. Or else--like so many +fevered souls--she had yearned for the full blossom thereof, neglecting +to nourish the parched seed under her feet. + +She had committed sacrilege. That was why Love had come to her at last +with a flaming sword, devastating her whole life, depriving her of even +that which she had seemed to have. That was why she now knelt impotent +before a locked door. That was why God was angry. + +A long, long time passed. She did not hear the rain pattering upon the +green earth, nor feel the soft breeze on her neck. She had lost touch +with things physical. She was yet groping in outer darkness. + +A hand very softly turned the handle of her door, and a motherly face +looked in. + +"Why, Anne, dear child, I thought you were asleep!" the deep voice +said reproachfully. "I've been listening outside for ages, and you were +so quiet!" + +She raised her head quickly, and in a moment rose. Her eyes were deeply +shadowed, but they bore no trace of tears. + +"I could not sleep," she said. "But you mustn't trouble about me. I am +quite well. I will dress and come down." + +Mrs. Errol came forward, shaking her head disapprovingly. "I have a +note from Lucas," she said. "It arrived a quarter of an hour ago, but +there was no answer, so I thought it would be real wicked to wake you +up to read it." + +Anne stretched out a hand that shook. "Please!" she said almost +inarticulately. + +With the note open in her hand she turned and sat down suddenly as if +incapable of standing. The clumsy, uneven writing danced before her eyes. +One sentence only, but it took her many seconds to read! + +"My brother Nap leaves to-night for Arizona.--Lucas." + +She raised her face with a deep, deep breath. She felt as if she had not +breathed for hours. Silently, after a moment, she held out the brief +message to Mrs. Errol. + +"My!" said the latter. "Well, thank the Lord for that!" + +And then very tenderly she laid her hand upon Anne's shoulder. "My +dearie, would it help you any to speak of him?" + +Anne leaned her weary head against her. "I don't know," she said. + +"I often wanted to warn you," Mrs. Errol said. "But I thought--I +hoped--it was unnecessary. You were always so kind of frank with him that +I thought maybe it would be an impertinence to say anything. It wasn't as +if you were an inexperienced girl. If you had been--but to give him his +due, Nap never tried to trap inexperience. He's got some morals, knave as +he is. Say, Anne dear, you know he is no son of mine?" + +"Yes," whispered Anne, gently drawing her friend's hand round her neck. + +"And I sometimes wonder," Mrs. Errol went on, in her deep sing-song voice +that yet somehow held a note of pathos, "if I did wrong to take him as I +did. He was the quaintest baby, Anne--the cutest morsel you ever saw. His +dying mother brought him to me. She was only a girl herself--a +broken-hearted girl, dying before her time. I couldn't refuse. I felt he +had a sort of claim upon us. Maybe I was wrong. My husband didn't view it +that way, but at that time I hadn't much faith in his judgment. So I took +the boy--his boy--and he was brought up as one of my own. But he was +always unaccountable. He had queer lapses. I tried to be kind to him. I +guess I always was kind. But I surmise that he always suspected me of +resenting his existence. Lucas was the only one who ever had any +influence over him. Latterly I've thought you had some too, but I guess +that was where I went wrong. He and Bertie never got on. P'r'aps it was +my fault. P'r'aps he inherited some of my antagonism. The Lord knows I +tried to suppress it, but somehow it was always there." + +"Dear Mrs. Errol!" Anne murmured softly. "Not one woman in a thousand +would have done as much." + +"Oh, you mustn't say that, dearie. I'm a very poor specimen. I gave him +what advantages I could, but I never loved him. P'r'aps if I had, he'd +have been a better boy. It's only love that counts for anything in God's +sight, and I never gave him any. Lucas did. That's how it is he knows how +to manage him. It isn't personal magnetism or anything of that sort. It's +just love. He can't help answering to that, because it's Divine." + +"Ah!" breathed Anne. "You think him capable of love then?" + +"I guess so, dear. He's raw and undeveloped, but like the rest of +creation he has his possibilities. You've seen him in his better moods +yourself. I always thought he kept his best side for you." + +"I know," Anne said. She leaned slowly back, looking up into the kindly +eyes above her. "But it was only a mask. I see it now. I think there are +many men like that, perhaps all are to a certain extent. They are only +themselves to one another. No woman would ever love a man if she saw him +as he is." + +"My dear! My dear!" Mrs. Errol said. "That's a bitter thing to say. And +it isn't true either. You'll see better by-and-by. Men are contemptible, +I own--the very best of them; but they've all got possibilities, and it's +just our part to draw them out. It's the divine foolishness of women's +love that serves their need, that makes them feel after better things. No +woman ever won a man by despising him. He may be inferior--he is--but he +wants real love to bolster him up. I guess the dear Lord thought of that +when He fashioned women." + +But Anne only smiled, very sadly, and shook her head. It might be true, +but she was in no state to judge. She was blinded by present pain. She +felt she had given her love to the wrong man, and though it had +flourished like a tropical flower in the fiery atmosphere of his passion, +it had been burnt away at last by the very sun that had called it into +being. And she would love in that way no more for ever. There was only +duty left down all the long grey vista of her life. + + + + +PART III + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE POWER DIVINE + + +"Well, if this isn't a pleasure!" + +Thus Lucas Errol, sitting on the terrace on a certain hot afternoon +early in August, greeted Dot, whose multifarious duties did not permit +her to be a very frequent visitor. He smiled at her with that cordiality +which even on his worst days was never absent, but she thought him +looking very ill. + +"Are you sure I shan't tire you too much?" she asked him, as he invited +her to sit down. + +"Quite sure, my dear Dot!" he answered. "It does me good to see people. +Lady Carfax is coming presently. The mother has gone to fetch her. It +will be her last appearance, I am afraid, for the present. She is +expecting her husband home to-morrow. But I'm glad you are here first. I +was just wishing I could see you." + +"Were you really?" said Dot. + +"Yes, really. No, you needn't look at me like that. I'm telling the +truth. I always do, to the best of my ability. Is that chair quite +comfortable? Do you mind if I smoke?" + +"I don't mind anything," Dot said. "And I'm so comfortable that I want to +take off my hat and go to sleep." + +"You may do the first," said Lucas. "But not the second, because I want +to talk, and it's sort of uninteresting not to have an audience, +especially when there is something important to be said." + +"Something important!" echoed Dot. "I hope it's something nice." + +"Oh, quite nice," he assured her. "It's to do with Bertie." He was +smiling in his own peculiarly kindly fashion. "By the way, he's stewing +indoors, studying for that exam, which he isn't going to pass." + +"Not going to pass?" Dot looked up in swift anxiety. "Oh, don't you +think he will?" + +Lucas shook his head. "What's success anyway? I guess the Creator finds +the failures just as useful to Him in the long run." + +"But I don't want him to fail!" she protested. + +"In my opinion," Lucas said slowly, "it doesn't matter a single red cent, +so long as a man does his best. Believe me, it isn't success that counts. +We're apt to think it's everything when we're young. I did myself +once--before I began to realise that I hadn't come to stay." The shrewd +blue eyes smiled at her under their heavy lids. "Now I don't want to +distress you any," he said, "but I'm going to say something that p'r'aps +you'll take to heart though you mustn't let it grieve you. Capper is +coming here next month to perform an operation on me. It may be +successful, and on the other hand--it may not. The uncertainty worries me +some. I'm trying to leave my affairs in good order, but--there are some +things beyond my scope that I'd like unspeakably to see settled before I +take my chances. You can understand that?" + +Dot's hand, warm, throbbing with life, slipped impulsively into his. +"Dear Lucas, of course--of course I understand." + +"Thanks! That's real nice of you. I always knew you were a woman +of sense. I wonder if you can guess what it is I've set my heart +on, eh, Dot?" + +"Tell me," murmured Dot. + +His eyes still rested upon her, but they seemed to be looking at +something beyond. "P'r'aps I'm over fond of regulating other folks' +affairs," he said. "It's a habit that easily grows on the head of a +family. But I've a sort of fancy for seeing you and Bertie married before +I go out. If you tell me it's quite impossible I won't say any more. But +if you could see your way to it--well, it would be a real kindness, and I +needn't say any more than that." + +The weary, rather droning voice ceased to speak. The eyelids drooped more +heavily. It seemed to Dot that a grey shadow lay upon the worn face. He +looked so unutterably tired, so ready for the long, long sleep. + +She sat quite still beside him, turning the matter in her mind. + +After a little he went on speaking, with eyes half-closed. "It would hit +him hard if I went under, but he wouldn't feel so badly if you were +there. The mother too--she wants someone to lean on. There's Lady Carfax, +but she has her own burden. And there'd be a lot for Bertie to see to, +Nap being away. Besides--" + +"Oh, Luke," Dot broke in, her eyes full of tears, "I--I can't imagine +this place without you." + +"No? Well, you mustn't let it distress you any. We've all got to go, +sooner or later. There isn't anything in that. The main thing is to get +it over, when it comes, with as little fuss as possible. Life isn't long +enough for grieving. It's just a mortal waste of time. And what is Death +anyway?" He raised his eyes with what seemed an effort. "You won't blame +me," he said, "for wanting to close up the ranks a bit before I go. Of +course I may live as long as any of you. God knows I shall do my best. I +want to pull through--for several reasons. But if I've got to go, I'd +like to feel I've left things as ship-shape as possible. Bertie will tell +you what provision I desire to make for you. P'r'aps you and he will talk +it over, and if you're willing I'll see the padre about it. But I kind of +felt the first word ought to be with you. Bertie didn't like to speak +because he'd promised to wait. You'll find he's a man of his word. That's +why I've butted in. Say, child, I didn't mean to make you cry. That was +clumsy of me." + +He patted her hand gently, while Dot blinked away her tears. + +"Don't let us talk about it any more now," she besought him. "Oh, +Lucas--I do want you to live, more--more than anything." + +"That's real kind of you," he said. "I'll do my best, you may be sure. +I can hear Lady Carfax talking in the drawing-room. Won't you go and +bring her out?" + +He made no effort to rise when Anne came on to the terrace, but he gave +her so vivid a smile of welcome that she scarcely noted the omission. It +was their first meeting since Nap's departure, for Lucas had been +confined to his bed for days. But that smile of his banished any sense of +embarrassment from her mind. He was so candidly, so unaffectedly, pleased +to see her. + +She sat down in the riotous sunshine and gave herself up unreservedly to +the pleasure of being with her friends. They were all congenial to her. +Mrs. Errol, Dot, Lucas, but most especially Lucas, who occupied a unique +position in her heart and in her thoughts. He had always been so +perfectly her friend in need. + +As the long, sunny afternoon wore away, she found herself watching him +and in silence marvelling. How was it that this man in his utter, +piteous weakness accomplished so much, ruled thus supreme? Wherein lay +that potent charm of his which neither devil nor brute could effectively +resist? Whence came it, this power of the soul, this deliberate and +conscious mastery? + +She watched Bertie waiting on him, hovering about him, ready to spring up +at his lightest word to execute his scarcely-uttered wish. Other +men--even great men--did not command this personal homage, this complete, +incessant devotion. Undoubtedly there was something kingly about him; but +wherein did it lie? Not in the impotent, unwieldy figure, not in the +pleasant, emotionless drawl, not even in the friendly quiet of his eyes, +the kindly sympathy of his smile. In none of these lay his power, and yet +in all of them it was in some fashion apparent. No great force of +personality characterised him, and yet his monarchy was absolute. No +splendour of intellect, no keenness of wit, no smartness of repartee were +his. Only a shrewdness of understanding that was never cruel, a humour +that had no edge. + +And presently Anne remembered that his own mother had given her the key +to the problem, and she doubted not that it solved the whole. "It isn't +personal magnetism," Mrs. Errol had said, "nor anything of that sort. +It's just love." + +That was the magic to which even Nap, the fierce, the passionate, the +treacherous, had been forced to bow. In the midst of his weakness this +man wielded an all-potent power--a power before which they all +instinctively did homage--before which even devils humbled +themselves--because it was Divine. + +That was the secret of his strength. That was the weapon by which he +conquered. She wondered if it had always been so, or if his physical +weakness had tended to develop in him a greatness of heart of which more +active men were quite incapable. It might be true, as Mrs. Errol had +contended, that all men had their possibilities, but, this was the only +man she had ever met who had turned them to account. All unconsciously, +perhaps in response to a reaction which had been necessarily violent, +Anne yielded herself that day for the first time in her life to a species +of hero-worship that could not but beautify her own sad life. + +When later she found herself alone with him, they talked for a space upon +indifferent things, and then they did not talk at all. The intimacy +between them made conversation unnecessary, and Lucas Errol's silence was +as easy as his speech. + +"You'll take care of yourself," he said once, "or I shan't be easy +about you." + +And, when she had promised that: "And you'll look us up as often as +you find you can. P'r'aps if you can't come very often you'll manage +to write." + +But he made no direct reference to her husband's return. His sympathy +neither sought nor needed expression in words. + +Neither did he speak of himself. He only at parting held her hand very +closely for several silent seconds. And Anne went away with a hushed +feeling at her heart as if he had invoked a benediction. + +Back to her home she went, strangely quiet and at peace. She had thought +that visit to Baronmead would have been painful to her. She had expected +to suffer afresh. But it was instead as if a healing hand had been laid +upon her, and as she went she thought no more of Nap, the savage, the +sudden, the terrible; but of Lucas, the gentle, the patient, the +chivalrous, who had won and would for ever keep her perfect trust. + +The light of a golden evening lay upon the Manor as she entered. It was +wonderfully quiet. She went in by the French windows that led into the +drawing-room, and here, tempted by an impulse that had not moved her for +long, she sat down at the piano and began very softly to play. + +She had not touched the keys since her last visit to Baronmead. She +wondered, as idly she suffered her fingers to wander, how long it would +be before she played again. + +Yet it was hard to believe, sitting there in the quiet evening light, +that the next day would witness her return to bondage, that bondage that +had so cruelly galled her, the very thought of which had at one time +filled her with repulsion. But her feelings had undergone a change of +late. She could not feel that the old burden would ever return upon her. +She had been emancipated too long. Her womanhood had developed too much +during those months of liberty. No, it could never be the same. Patient +and faithful wife she would still be. She was ready to devote herself +ungrudgingly, without reservation, to her invalid husband. But his slave +she would never be again. She had overcome her repugnance; she was +willing to serve. But never again would he compel. The days of his +tyranny were for ever gone. + +It was no easy path that lay before her, but she had not forgotten how +narrowly she had escaped the precipice. Even yet she still trembled when +she remembered the all-engulfing pit of destruction that had opened +before her, and the anguish of fear that had possessed her until +deliverance had come. Lucas Errol had been her deliverer. She remembered +that also, and a faint, sad smile touched her lips--Lucas Errol, king +and cripple, ruler and weakling. + +Softly the sunset faded. Anne's fingers ceased to roam over the keys. She +clasped them in her lap and sat still. + +All at once a quiet voice spoke. "My lady!" + +With a start she turned. "Dimsdale! How you startled me!" + +"I beg your ladyship's pardon," the old man said. + +He was standing close behind her. There was an air of subdued importance +about him. He was grave to severity. + +But Anne did not look at him very critically. "I shall not want any +tea," she said. "I will dine at eight in my sitting-room as usual. Is +everything in readiness, Dimsdale? Is Sir Giles's room just as it +should be?" + +"Yes, my lady." + +Anne rose and quietly closed the piano. She wondered why Dimsdale +lingered, and after a moment it struck her that he had something to say. +She took up her gloves and turned round to him. + +"No one has been, I suppose?" + +"No one, my lady." + +"Are there any letters?" + +"No letters, my lady." + +"Then--" Anne paused, and for the first time looked at the old servant +attentively. "Is anything the matter, Dimsdale?" she asked. + +He hesitated, the fingers of one hand working a little, an unusual sign +of agitation with him. + +With an effort at last he spoke. "Your ladyship instructed me to open any +telegram that might arrive." + +Her heart gave a great throb of foreboding. "Certainly," she said. "Has +there been a telegram then?" + +Dimsdale's hand clenched. He looked at her anxiously, rather piteously. + +"My lady--" he said, and stopped. + +Anne stood like a statue. She felt as if her vitality were suddenly +arrested, as if every pulse had ceased to beat. + +"Please go on," she said in a whisper. "There has been a telegram. Either +give it to me, or--tell me what was in it." + +Dimsdale made a jerky movement, as if pulling himself together. He put an +unsteady hand into his breast-pocket. "It came this afternoon, my lady, +about an hour ago. I am afraid it's bad news--very bad news. Yes, my +lady, I'm telling you, I'm telling you. I regret to say Sir Giles has +been took worse, took very sudden like, and--and--" + +"He is dead," Anne said very clearly, very steadily, in a tone that was +neither of question nor of exclamation. + +Dimsdale bent his head. "He died at half-past three, my lady." + +He had the telegram in his hand. Anne took it from him and moved very +quietly to the window. + +Mutely the old man stood and watched her in the silence, thankful for her +composure. He was himself severely shaken, and the ordeal of telling her +had been no light one. + +But as the silence still continued he began to grow uneasy again. He +wondered if he ought to go, if she had forgotten to dismiss him. Her +stately head was bent over the paper, which never crackled or stirred in +her hand. There began to be something terrible, something fateful, in +her passivity. Old Dimsdale shivered, and took the liberty of breaking +the silence. + +"Would your ladyship wish a message to be sent to Baronmead?" + +She stirred at that, moved sharply as one suddenly awakened. Her face was +quite white, but her eyes were alight, curiously vital, with a glitter +that was almost of horror. + +"To Baronmead!" she said, a queer note of sharpness in her voice. "No, +certainly not, most certainly not!" + +And there she stopped, stopped dead as though struck dumb. In the garden +behind her, down among the lilac trees, a bird had begun to sing, +eagerly, voluptuously, thrillingly, with a rapture as of the full +spring-tide of life. + +Anne stood for a space of many seconds and listened, her white face +upraised, her eyes wide and shining. + +And then suddenly her attitude changed. She put her hands over her face +and tottered blindly from the open window. + +Dimsdale started to support her, but she needed no support. In a +moment she was looking at him again, but with eyes from which all +light had faded. + +"I must write some messages at once," she said. "One of the grooms must +take them. No, I shall not send to Mrs. Errol to-night. I wish to be +alone--quite alone. Please admit no one. And--yes--tell them to pull down +the blinds, and--shut all the windows!" + +Her voice quivered and sank. She stood a moment, collecting herself, +then walked quietly to the door. + +"Come to me in ten minutes for those telegrams," she said. "And after +that, remember, Dimsdale, I am not to be disturbed by anyone." + +And with that she passed out, erect and calm, and went up to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WORKER OF MIRACLES + + +"I want to know!" said Capper. + +He had said it several times during a muddy two-mile tramp from Baronford +Station, and he said it again as he turned up the hill that was crowned +by the old grey church, whose two cracked bells had just burst into as +cheerful a marriage peal as they could compass. + +"Sounds frisky!" he commented to himself, as he trudged up the steep +lane. "My! What an all-fired fuss! Guess these muddy boots aren't exactly +wedding-guesty. But that's their lookout for monopolising every vehicle +in the place. I wonder if I'll have the audacity to show after all. Or +shall I carry this almighty thirst of mine back to the Carfax Arms and +quench it in British ale?" + +But this latter idea did not apparently greatly lure him, for he +continued to plod upwards, even while considering it, to the tune of the +clamouring bells. + +Arriving finally at the top of the hill and finding there a crowd of +vehicles of all descriptions, he paused to breathe and to search for the +Baronmead motors. + +He found them eventually, but there was no one in attendance. The +servants were all herded in the churchyard for a view of the bridal +procession, for which a passage across the road to the Rectory grounds +was being kept. + +Capper stationed himself, with another rueful glance as his boots, as +near as he could get to the open lych-gate, and there stood grimly +conspicuous, watching the scene with his alert green eyes, that held the +glint of a tolerant smile, and cracking his thin, yellow fingers one by +one. No one gave him a second glance, or dreamed for an instant that one +of the greatest men in the Western Hemisphere was standing on the edge of +the crowd. + +They came at last--bride and bridegroom--flushed and hastening through a +shower of rose petals. + +Bertie was laughing all over his brown face. He was holding Dot's hand +very fast, and as they descended the red-carpeted steps into the road he +leaned to her, whispering. She laughed back at him with shining eyes, her +round face radiant beneath the orange blossom. Neither of them glanced to +right or left. Swiftly through the fallen rose leaves they crossed to the +Rectory gateway and were lost to view. + +A bevy of bridesmaids ran laughing after them, and then came a pause. + +Capper edged a little nearer to the churchyard steps and waited. The +clamour of bells was incessant, wholly drowning the clamour of voices. +Everyone was craning forward to see the crowd of guests. The long +procession had already begun to issue from the church porch. It moved +very slowly, for at the head of it, his hand on his mother's arm, came +Lucas Errol. + +He walked with extreme difficulty, leaning on a crutch. His head was +uncovered, and the glare of the September sunlight smote full upon it. +The hair was turning very grey. + +He was smiling as he came, but his brows were slightly drawn, his eyes +sunk in deep hollows. + +Swiftly and comprehensively the man at the foot of the steps scanned +every detail, marked the halting, painful progress, the lined forehead. +And the next moment, as Lucas paused, preparatory to descending, he +pushed forward with characteristic decision of movement and moved upwards +to his side. + +"I guess you'll find me useful at this juncture," he said. + +Lucas's start of surprise was instantly followed by a smile of welcome. +He gripped Capper's hand warmly. + +"The very man I want! But how in wonder did you get here? You never +walked all the way from the station?" + +"I did," said Capper. + +"You don't say! Why didn't you let me know? I guess we must move on. We +are blocking the gangway." + +"Easy does it," said Capper. "It won't hurt 'em any to wait. Get +your arm over my shoulder. That's the way. These steps are the very +devil for you." + +He bent his wiry frame to Lucas Errol's need, and helped him to descend. +At the foot he paused a moment and looked at him keenly. + +"All serene," smiled Lucas. "I'll take your arm now, if it's all the +same to the mother. You didn't expect to find us plunged in wedding +gaieties, I guess." + +"Wish it had been your own," said Capper. + +At which Lucas turned up his face to the sky and laughed. + +They crossed the flag-decked garden and entered by the conservatory door. +People were beginning to crowd about them. + +"We must find you a seat somehow," said Capper. + +"I must have a word with the bride and bridegroom first," Lucas declared. + +But the bride and bridegroom were for the moment inaccessible, being +completely surrounded by well-wishers. + +Capper seized upon the first chair he came upon and put Lucas into it. + +"I seem to have come in the nick of time," he observed drily. "Why is no +one detailed to look after you? Where is that tiger's whelp Nap?" + +"Nap's in America, been gone two months or more." + +"That so?" There was keen satisfaction in Capper's tone. "That clears the +ground for action. And Lady Carfax? Is she here?" + +"No." There was a hint of reserve in the quiet reply. "Lady Carfax is in +deep mourning for her husband." + +"That so?" said Capper again. He seemed to take but casual note of the +information. He was pulling absently at his pointed yellow beard. + +Lucas lay back in his chair and suffered himself to relax with a sigh. +Capper's eyes darted lizard-like over him, taking in every line of him, +keenly alive to each detail. + +"If I were you I should shunt as soon as possible," he said. "Since it +isn't your own show unfortunately, I should imagine you are not +indispensable." + +But at this point the throng parted, and Dot, looking very young in her +bridal white, and supremely happy, burst eagerly through, + +"Oh, here you are!" she cried. "Your mother said you were close by, but I +couldn't see you anywhere. It's been too much for you. You're tired." + +She bent over him in quick solicitude, then, as he smiled and drew her +down to him, stooped and kissed him, whispering a few words for his +ear alone. + +Bertie was close behind her, but he had caught sight of Capper and had +stopped short with a queer expression on his boyish face, a look that was +a curious blend of consternation and relief. + +A moment and he stepped up to the great doctor and took him by the elbow. +"You here already!" he said. "I didn't expect you so soon." + +"I have only run down to have a look at things," said Capper. "I seem to +have pitched on a busy day. I hope you are enjoying yourself." + +"Thanks!" said Bertie, with a brief laugh. "Say, Doctor, you'll let me +know your plans?" + +"Certainly--when they are ripe." The green eyes gleamed humorously. +"Aren't you thinking of introducing me to Mrs. Bertie?" he suggested. + +"Yes, yes, of course. But you won't do anything without me?" urged +Bertie. "I should greatly like a talk with you, but I'm afraid it can't +be managed." + +"I mightily doubt if you could tell me anything that I don't know +already," said Capper, "on any subject." + +"It's about Luke," said Bertie anxiously. + +"Just so. Well, I guess I know more about Luke than any other person on +this merry little planet." + +"Do you think he looks worse?" whispered Bertie. + +Capper's long, yellow hand fastened very unobtrusively and very forcibly +upon his shoulder. "One thing at a time, good Bertie!" he said. "Weren't +you going to present me to--your wife?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WOMAN'S PART + + +It was on a day of wild autumnal weather, when the wind moaned like a +living thing in torture about the house, and the leaves eddied and +drifted before the scudding rain, that they turned Tawny Hudson out of +his master's room, and left him crouched and whimpering like a dog +against the locked door. Save for his master's express command, no power +on earth would have driven him away, not even Capper of the curt speech +and magnetic will. But the master had spoken very definitely and +distinctly, and it was Tawny Hudson's to obey. Therefore he huddled on +the mat, rocking to and fro, shivering like some monstrous animal in +pain, while within the room Capper wrought his miracles. + +Downstairs Mrs. Errol sat holding Anne's hand very tightly, and talking +incessantly lest her ears should be constrained to listen. And Anne, pale +and still, answered her as a woman talking in her sleep. + +Bertie and his young bride were still absent on their honeymoon; this +also by Lucas's express desire. + +"It won't help me any to have you here, boy," he had said at parting. "A +certain fuss is inevitable, but I want you out of it. I am looking to +Anne Carfax to help the dear mother." + +He had known even then that he would not look in vain, and he had not +been disappointed. So, sorely against his will, Bertie had submitted, +with the proviso that if things went wrong he should be sent for +immediately. + +And thus Anne Carfax, who had lived in almost unbroken seclusion since +her husband's death, now sat with Mrs. Errol's hand clasped in hers, and +listened, as one listens in a nightmare, to the wailing of the wind about +the garden and house, and the beat, beat, beat of her heart when the wind +was still. + +"Could you say a prayer, dear?" Mrs. Errol asked her once. + +And she knelt and prayed, scarcely knowing what she said, but with a +passion of earnestness that left her weak, quivering in every limb. + +The wind was rising. It roared in the trees and howled against the panes. +Sometimes a wild gust of rain lashed the windows. It made her think of an +unquiet spirit clamouring for admittance. + +"Anne dear, play to me, play to me!" besought Mrs. Errol. "If I listen I +shall go mad! No one will hear you. We are right away from his part of +the house." + +And though every nerve shrank at the bare suggestion, Anne rose without +a single protest and went to the piano. She sat down before it, and +blindly, her eyes wide, fixed, unseeing, she began to play. + +What she played she knew not. Her fingers found notes, chords, melodies +mechanically. + +Once she paused, but, "Ah, go on, dear child! Go on!" urged Mrs. Errol. +And she went on, feeling vaguely through the maze of suspense that +surrounded them, longing inarticulately to cease all effort, but spurred +onward because she knew she must not fail. + +And gradually as she played there came to her a curious sense of duality, +of something happening that had happened before, of a record repeating +itself. She turned her head, almost expecting to hear a voice speak +softly behind her, almost expecting to hear a mocking echo of the words +unspoken. "Has the Queen no further use for her jester?" No further use! +No further use! Oh, why was she tortured thus? Why, when her whole soul +yearned to forget, was she thus compelled to remember the man whose +brutal passion and insatiable thirst for vengeance had caught and crushed +her heart? + +And still she played on as one beneath a spell, while the memory of him +forced the gates of her consciousness and took arrogant possession. She +saw again the swarthy face with its fierce eyes, the haughty smile, which +for her was ever tinged with tenderness. Surely--oh, surely he had loved +her once! She recalled his fiery love-making, and thrilled again to the +eager insistence of his voice, the mastery of his touch. And then she +remembered what they said of him, that women were his slaves, his +playthings, the toys he broke in wantonness and carelessly tossed aside. +She remembered how once in his actual presence she had overheard words +that had made her shrink, a wonder as to who was his latest conquest, the +cynical remark: "Anyone for a change and no one for long is his motto." +What was he doing now, she asked herself, and trembled. He had gone +without word or message of any sort. Her last glimpse of him had been in +that violet glare of lightning, inexpressibly terrible, with tigerish +eyes that threatened her and snarling lips drawn back. Thus--thus had she +seen him many a time since in the long night-watches when she had lain +sleepless and restless, waiting for the dawn. + +Some such vision came to her now, forcing itself upon her shrinking +imagination. Vividly there rose before her his harsh face alert, cruel, +cynical, and the sinewy hands that gripped and crushed. And suddenly a +shuddering sense of nausea overcame her. She left the piano as one +seeking refuge from a horror unutterable. Surely this man had never loved +her--was incapable of love! And she had almost wished him back! + +"There is someone in the entry, dear child," whispered Mrs. Errol. "Go +and see--go and see!" + +She went, moving as one stricken blind. But before she reached the door +it opened and someone entered. She saw Capper as through a mist in which +bodily weakness and anguished fear combined to overwhelm her. And then +very steadily his arm encircled her, drew her tottering to a chair. + +"It's all right," he said in his expressionless drawl. "The patient has +regained consciousness, and is doing O.K. Are you ladies thinking of +lunch? Because if so, I guess I'll join you. No, Mrs. Errol, you can't +see him before to-night at the earliest. Lady Carfax, I have a message +for you--the first words he spoke when he came to. He was hardly +conscious when he uttered them, but I guess you'll be kind of interested +to hear what they were. 'Tell Anne,' he said, 'I'm going to get well.'" + +The intense deliberation with which he spoke gave her time to collect +herself, but the words affected her oddly. After a moment she rose, went +to Mrs. Errol, who had covered her face with both hands while he was +speaking, and knelt beside her. Neither of them uttered a sound. + +Capper strolled to the window, his hands deep in his pockets, and looked +out upon the wind-swept gardens. He whistled very softly to himself, as a +man well satisfied. + +He did not turn his head till at the end of five minutes Anne came to his +side. She was very pale but quite self-possessed. + +"Mrs. Errol has gone to her room," she said. "She wished to be alone." + +"Gone to have a good cry, eh?" said Capper. "Healthiest thing she could +do. And what about you?" + +She smiled with lips that faintly quivered. "I am quite all right, +Doctor. And--I have ordered luncheon." + +He turned fully round and looked her up and down with lightning +swiftness. "You're a very remarkable woman, Lady Carfax," he said +after a moment. + +"I hope you may never be disappointed in me," she answered gravely. + +"I hope so too," he said, "for there is a good deal dependent upon you." + +"What do you mean?" She raised her clear eyes interrogatively. + +But he baffled her, as he baffled everyone, with the very keenness of his +own scrutiny. He began to crack all his fingers in turn. + +"I mean," he said, "that even I can't work miracles by myself. I can do +the elementary part. I can cut and saw and sew, but I can't heal. I can't +give life. That's the woman's part. That's where I count on you. And I +don't think you are going to fail me, Lady Carfax." + +"I promise you I will do my utmost," she said very earnestly. + +He nodded. "I believe you will. But even so, you can't do too much. It's +a serious case, even more serious than I expected. I don't say this to +alarm you, but I guess you had better know it. It'll be a tough, uphill +fight, and he'll need a deal of pushing behind. It may entail more than +you dream of--a big sacrifice perhaps; who knows? But you women don't shy +at sacrifices. And, believe me, he's worth a sacrifice." + +"He deserves the best," she said warmly. + +"Yes, but you don't take me," said Capper. + +He paused a moment, then suddenly laid a quiet hand on her shoulder. "I +may be a wise man," he said, "and again I may be a meddling fool. You and +the gods must decide between you. But I'm old enough to be your father +anyway. So p'r'aps you'll bear with me. Lady Carfax, hasn't it struck you +that a time will come--probably pretty soon--when he will begin to reach +out for something that you--and you alone--can give?" + +Anne's quick gesture of protest was his answer. She stood motionless, her +eyes still raised, waiting for him to continue. But he felt her tremble +under his hand. He knew that inwardly she was not so calm as she would +have had him think. + +He went on in his precise, emotionless fashion, as though he perceived +nothing. "He won't ask for it--anyway till he feels he can make a fair +return. He will never ask a sacrifice of you. He will break his heart +sooner. The point is, Are you capable of offering the sacrifice unasked? +For that is what it amounts to, now that the gods have cleared the way." + +"Ah!" Anne said. "And--if--not?" + +She spoke rather as if to gain time than because she desired an answer. + +But he answered her nevertheless very quietly, without a shade of +emotion, as if he were discussing some technical matter of no personal +interest to him. Only as he answered he took his hand from her shoulder +and thrust it back into his pocket. + +"In that case he will die, having nothing left to live for. He probably +won't suffer much, simply go out like a candle. He hasn't much vitality. +He may die either way. There is no responsibility attached--only +possibilities." + +He turned with the words, and walked across the room with the air of a +man who has said his say. + +She uttered no word to stop him, nor did she move to follow. She stood +alone with her face to the grey storm-clouds that drifted perpetually +overhead. Somehow she did not for a moment doubt the truth of what +Capper had just told her. She even felt sub-consciously that she had +known it for some time. Neither did she ask herself what she was going +to do. For deep in the heart of her she knew already. Deep in the heart +of her she knew that when Lucas Errol began to reach out for something +which she alone could give, it would not be in vain. He had given of his +best to her, and she was ready to give of her best in return. If she +could not give him passion, she could give him that which was +infinitely greater--a deep, abiding love, a devotion born of complete +sympathy. She could give him happiness, and in the giving she might find +it for herself. + +Over in the west the clouds were breaking, and a shaft of pale sunshine +streamed upon the distant hills, turning the woods to living gold. Her +eyes brightened a little as they caught the radiance. It seemed as if the +door before which she had knelt so long in impotence were opening to her +at last, as if one more opportunity were to be given her even yet after +long and bitter failure of turning her corner of the desert into a garden +of flowers and singing birds. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE MESSAGE + + +It was nearly a month after Lucas Errol's operation that Bertie and his +bride came home from their honeymoon and began the congenial task of +setting their house in order. + +Dot was thoroughly in her element. The minutest details were to her +matters of vital importance. + +"We must make it comfy," she said to Bertie, and Bertie fully agreed. + +He had relinquished his study of the law, and had resumed his secretarial +duties, well aware that Lucas could ill spare him. He was in fact Lucas's +right hand just then, and the burden that devolved upon him was no light +one. But he bore it with a cheerful spirit, for Lucas was making +progress. Despite his utter helplessness, despite the inevitable +confinement to one room, despite the weariness and the irksomeness which +day by day were his portion, Lucas was very gradually gaining ground. +Already he suffered less severely and slept more naturally. + +His last words to Capper at parting had been, "Come again in the spring +and complete the cure. I shall be ready for you." + +And Capper had smiled upon him with something approaching geniality and +had answered, "You'll do it, and so shall I. So long then!" + +But the months that intervened were the chief stumbling-block, and Capper +knew it. He knew that his patient would have to face difficulties and +drawbacks that might well dismay the bravest. He knew of the reaction +that must surely come when the vitality was low, and progress became +imperceptible, and the long imprisonment almost unendurable. He knew of +the fever that would lurk in the quickening blood, of the torturing cramp +that would draw the unused muscles, of the depression that was its mental +counterpart, of the black despair that would hang like a paralysing +weight upon soul and body, of the _ennui_, of the weariness of life, of +the piteous weakness that nothing could alleviate. + +He had to a certain extent warned Lucas what to expect; but the time for +these things had not yet arrived. He was hardly yet past the first stage, +and his courage was buoyed up by high hopes as yet undashed. He had faced +worse things without blenching, and he had not begun to feel the monotony +that Capper had dreaded as his worst enemy. + +He took a keen interest in the doings of the young couple at the Dower +House, and Dot's breezy presence was ever welcome. + +As for Anne, she went to and fro between Baronmead and the Manor, of +which her husband's will had left her sole mistress, no longer leading a +hermit's life, no longer clinging to her solitude, grave and quiet, but +not wholly unhappy. Those few words Capper had spoken on the day of +Lucas's operation had made a marvellous difference to her outlook. They +had made it possible for her to break down the prison-walls that +surrounded her. They had given her strength to leave the past behind her, +all vain regrets and cruel disillusionments, to put away despair and rise +above depression. They had given her courage to go on. + +Of Nap no word was ever spoken in her presence. He might have been dead, +so completely had he dropped out of her life. In fact, he was scarcely +ever mentioned by anyone, a fact which aroused in Dot a curiously keen +indignation, but upon which a certain shyness kept her from commenting. +She kept him faithfully in mind, praying for him as regularly as she +prayed for old Squinny, who still lingered on with exasperating tenacity, +and continued to enjoy such help, spiritual or otherwise, as he could +extract from the parson's daughter. + +That Bertie strongly disapproved of his brother she was aware, but she +held no very high opinion of Bertie's judgment, though even he could +scarcely have forbidden her to pray for the black sheep of the family. +She had not been brought up to rely upon anyone's judgment but her own, +and, deeply as she loved him, she could not help regarding her husband +as headlong and inclined to prejudice. He was young, she reflected, and +doubtless these small defects would disappear as he grew older. True, he +was nearly four years her senior; but Dot did not regard years as in any +degree a measure of age. It was all a question of development, she would +say, and some people--women especially--developed much more quickly than +others. She herself, for instance--At which stage of the argument Bertie +invariably said or did something rude, and the rest of her logic became +somewhat confused. He was a dear boy and she couldn't possibly be cross +with him, but somehow he never seemed to realise when she was in earnest. +Another of the deficiencies of youth! + +Meanwhile she occupied herself in her new home with all the zest of the +young housewife, returned calls with commendable punctuality, and settled +down once more to the many parochial duties which had been her +ever-increasing responsibility for almost as long as she could remember. + +"You are not going to slave like this always," Bertie said to her one +evening, when she came in late through a November drizzle to find him +waiting for her. + +"I must do what I've got to do," said Dot practically, suffering him to +remove her wet coat. + +"All very well," said Bertie, whose chin looked somewhat more square than +usual. "But I'm not going to have my wife wearing herself out over what +after all is not her business." + +"My dear boy!" Dot laughed aloud, twining her arm in his. "I think you +forget, don't you, that I was the rector's daughter before I was your +wife? I must do these things. There is no one else to do them." + +"Skittles!" said Bertie rudely. + +"Yes, dear, but that's no argument. Let's go and have tea, and for +goodness' sake don't frown at me like that. It's positively appalling. +Put your chin in and be good." + +She passed her hand over her husband's face and laughed up at him +merrily. But Bertie remained grave. + +"You're wet through and as cold as ice. Come to the fire and let's get +off your boots." + +She went with him into the drawing-room, where tea awaited them. + +"I'm not wet through," she declared, "and I'm not going to let you take +off my boots. You may, if you are very anxious, give me some tea." + +Bertie pulled up a chair to the fire and put her into it; then turned +aside and began to make the tea. + +Dot lay back with her feet in the fender and watched him. She was looking +very tired, and now that the smile had faded from her face this was the +more apparent. + +When he brought her her tea she reached up, caught his hand, and held it +for a moment against her cheek. + +"One's own fireside is so much nicer than anyone else's," she said. +"We'll have a nice cosy talk presently. How is Luke to-day?" + +"Not quite so flourishing. A brute of a dog howled in the night and woke +him up. He didn't get his proper sleep afterwards." + +"Poor old Luke! What a shame!" + +"Yes, it made a difference. He has been having neuralgia down his spine +nearly all day. I believe he's worrying too. I'm going back after dinner +to see if I can do anything. I manage to read him to sleep sometimes, +you know." + +"Shall I come too?" said Dot. + +"No." Bertie spoke with decision. "You had better go to bed yourself." + +She made a face at him. "I shall do nothing of the sort. I shall sit up +and do the Clothing Club accounts." + +Bertie frowned abruptly. "Not to-night, Dot." + +"Yes, to-night. They have got to be done, and I can think better +at night." + +"You are not to do them to-night," Bertie said, with determination. "I +will do them myself if they must be done." + +"My dear boy, you! You would never understand my book-keeping. Just +imagine the muddle you would make! No, I must get through them myself, +and since I must spend the time somehow till you come home, why shouldn't +I do them to-night?" + +"Because I forbid it," said Bertie unexpectedly. + +He was standing on the rug, cup in hand. He looked straight down at her +with the words, meeting her surprised eyes with most unwonted sternness. + +Dot raised her eyebrows as high as they would go, kept them so for +several seconds, then very deliberately lowered them and began to +stir her tea. + +"You understand me, don't you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "Not in the least. I don't think I have ever met you +before, have I?" + +He set his cup upon the mantelpiece and went suddenly down on his knees +by her side. "I haven't been taking proper care of you," he said. "But +I'm going to begin right now. Do you know when you came in just now you +gave me an absolute shock?" + +She laughed faintly, her eyes fixed upon her cup "I didn't know I was +looking such a fright." + +"You can never look anything but sweet to me," he said. "But it's a fact +you're not looking well. I'm sure you are doing too much." + +"I'm not doing any more than usual," said Dot, still intent upon the +drain of tea in her cup. + +"Well, it's too much for you anyway, and I'm going to put a stop to it." + +"Do you know how to read your fortune in tea leaves?" said Dot. + +"No," said Bertie. With a very gentle hand he deprived her of this +engrossing pastime. "I want you to attend to me for a minute," he said. + +Dot snuggled against him with a very winning gesture. "I don't want to, +Bertie, unless you can find something more interesting to talk about. +Really, there is nothing wrong with me. Tell me about Luke. Why is he +worrying?" + +Bertie frowned. "He doesn't say so, but I believe he's bothered about +Nap. Heaven knows why he should be. He was supposed to go to Arizona, but +he didn't turn up there. As a matter of fact, if he never turned up again +anywhere it would be about the best thing that could possibly happen." + +"Oh, don't, Bertie!" Dot spoke sharply, almost involuntarily. There was a +quick note of pain in her voice. "I don't like you to talk like that. It +isn't nice of you to be glad he's gone, and--it's downright horrid to +want him to stay away for ever." + +"Good heavens!" said Bertie. + +He was plainly amazed, and she resented his amazement, feeling that in +some fashion it placed her in a false position from which she was +powerless to extricate herself. The last thing she desired was to take up +the cudgels on Nap's behalf, nevertheless she prepared herself to do so +as in duty bound. For Nap was a friend, and Dot's loyalty to her friends +was very stanch. + +"I mean it," she said, sitting up and facing him. "I don't think it's +right of you, and it certainly isn't kind. He doesn't deserve to be +treated as an outcast. He isn't such a bad sort after all. There is a +whole lot of good in him, whatever people may say. You at least ought +to know him better. Anyhow, he is a friend of mine, and I won't hear +him abused." + +Bertie's face changed while she was speaking, grew stern, grew almost +implacable. + +"Look here," he said plainly, "if you want to know what Nap is, he's a +damned blackguard, not fit for you to speak to. So, if you've no +objection, we'll shunt him for good and all!" + +It was Dot's turn to look amazed. She opened her eyes to their widest +extent. "What has he done?" + +"Never mind!" said Bertie. + +"But I do mind!" Swiftly indignation swamped her surprise. "Why should I +shunt him, as you call it, for no reason at all? I tell you frankly, +Bertie, I simply won't!" + +Her eyes were very bright as she ended. She sat bolt upright obviously +girded for battle. + +Bertie also looked on the verge of an explosion, but with a grim effort +he restrained himself. "I have told you he is unworthy of your +friendship," he said. "Let that be enough." + +"That's not enough," said Dot. "I think otherwise." + +He bit his lip. "Well, if you must have it--so did Lady Carfax till she +found out her mistake." + +"Lady Carfax!" Dot's face changed. "What about Lady Carfax?" + +"She gave him her friendship," Bertie told her grimly, "and he rewarded +her with about as foul a trick as any man could conceive. You heard the +story of the motor breaking down that day in the summer when he took her +for a ride? It was nothing but an infernal trick. He wanted to get her +for himself, and it wasn't his fault that he failed. It was in +consequence of that that Lucas sent him away." + +"Oh!" said Dot. "He was in love with her then!" + +"If you call it love," said Bertie. "He is always in love with someone." + +Dot's eyes expressed enlightenment. She seemed to have forgotten their +difference of opinion. "So that was why he was so cut up," she said. "Of +course--of course! I was a donkey not to think of it. What a mercy Sir +Giles is dead! Has anyone written to tell him?" + +"No," said Bertie shortly. + +"But why not? Surely he has a right to know? Lady Carfax herself +might wish it." + +"Lady Carfax would be thankful to forget his very existence," said +Bertie, with conviction. + +"My dear boy, how can you possibly tell? Are you one of those misguided +male creatures who profess to understand women?" + +"I know that Lady Carfax loathes the very thought of him," Bertie +maintained. "She is not a woman to forgive and forget very easily. +Moreover, as I told you before, no one knows where he is." + +"I see," said Dot thoughtfully. "But surely he has a club somewhere?" + +"Yes, he belongs to the Phoenix Club, New York, if they haven't kicked +him out. But what of that? I'm not going to write to him. I don't want +him back, Heaven knows." There was a fighting note in Bertie's voice. He +spoke as if prepared to resist to the uttermost any sudden attack upon +his resolution. + +But Dot attempted none; she abandoned the argument quite suddenly, and +nestled against his breast. "Darling, don't let's talk about it any +more! It's a subject upon which we can't agree. And I'm sorry I've been +so horrid to you. I know it isn't my fault that we haven't +quarrelled. Forgive me, dear, and keep on loving me. You do love me, +don't you, Bertie?" + +"Sweetheart!" he whispered, holding her closely. + +She uttered a little muffled laugh. "That's my own boy! And I'm going to +be so good, you'll hardly know me. I won't go out in the rain, and I +won't do the Clothing Club accounts, and I won't overwork. And--and--I +won't be cross, even if I do look and feel hideous. I'm going to be a +perfect saint, Bertie." + +"Sweetheart!" he said again. + +She turned her face up against his neck. "Shall I tell you why?" she +said, clinging to him with hands that trembled. "It's because if I let +myself get cross-grained and ugly now, p'r'aps someone else--some +day--will be cross-grained and ugly too. And I should never forgive +myself for that. I should always feel it was my fault. Fancy if it turned +out a shrew like me, Bertie! Wouldn't--wouldn't it be dreadful?" + +She was half-laughing, half-crying, as she whispered the words. Bertie's +arms held her so closely that she almost gasped for breath. + +"My precious girl!" he said. "My own precious wife! Is it so? You know, I +wondered." + +She turned her lips quickly to his. There were tears on her cheeks though +she was laughing. + +"How bright of you, Bertie! You--you always get there sooner or later, +don't you? And you're not cross with me any more? You don't think me very +unreasonable about Nap?" + +"Oh, damn Nap!" said Bertie, for the second time, with fervour. + +"Poor Nap!" said Dot gently. + +That evening, when Bertie was at Baronmead, she scribbled a single +sentence on a sheet of paper, thrust it into an envelope and directed it +to the Phoenix Club, New York. + +This done, she despatched a servant to the postoffice with it and sat +down before the fire. + +"I expect it was wrong of me," she said. "But somehow I can't help +feeling he ought to know. Anyway"--Dot's English was becoming lightly +powdered with Americanisms, which possessed a very decided charm on her +lips--"anyway, it's done, and I won't think any more about it. It's the +very last wrong thing I'll do for--ever so long." Her eyes grew soft as +she uttered this praiseworthy resolution. She gazed down into the fire +with a little smile, and gave herself up to dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND + + +"O God, give me rest!" + +Painfully the words came through quivering lips, the first they had +uttered for hours. Lucas Errol lay, as he had lain for nearly three +months, with his face to the ceiling, his body stretched straight and +rigid, ever in the same position, utterly helpless and weary unto death. + +Day after day he lay there, never stirring save when they made him bend +his knees, an exercise upon which the doctor daily insisted, but which +was agony to him. Night after night, sleepless, he waited the coming of +the day. His general health varied but little, but his weakness was +telling upon him. His endurance still held, but it was wearing thin. His +old cheeriness was gone, though he summoned it back now and again with +piteous, spasmodic effort. Hope and despair were fighting together in his +soul, and at that time despair was uppermost. He had set out with a brave +heart, but the goal was still far off, and he was beginning to falter. He +had ceased to make any progress, and the sheer monotony of existence was +wearing him out. The keen, shrewd eyes were dull and listless. At the +opening of the door he did not even turn his head. + +And yet it was Anne who entered, Anne with the flush of exercise on her +sweet face, her hands full of Russian violets. + +"See how busy I have been!" she said. "I am not disturbing you? You +weren't asleep?" + +"I never sleep," he answered, and he did not look at her or the violets; +he kept his eyes upon the ceiling. + +She came and sat beside him. "I gathered them all myself," she said. +"Don't you want to smell them?" + +He moved his lips without replying, and she leaned down, her eyes full of +the utmost compassionate tenderness and held the violets to him. He +raised a hand with evident effort and fumblingly took her wrist. He +pressed the wet flowers against his face. + +"It's a shame to bring them here, Lady Carfax," he said, letting her go. +"Take them--wear them! I guess they'll be happier with you." + +She smiled a little. "Should I have gathered all this quantity for +myself? It has taken me nearly an hour." + +"You should have told the gardener," he said. "You mustn't go tiring +yourself out over me. I'm not worth it." He added, with that kindly +courtesy of which adversity had never deprived him, "But I'm real +grateful all the same. You mustn't think me unappreciative." + +"I don't," she answered gently. "Wouldn't you like them in water?" + +"Ah, yes," he said. "Put them near me. I shall smell them if I can't see +them. Do you mind closing the window? I can't get warm to-day." + +She moved to comply, passing across his line of vision. A moment she +stood with the keen sweet air blowing in upon her, a tall, gracious +figure in the full flower of comely womanhood, not beautiful, but +possessing in every line of her that queenly, indescribable charm which +is greater than beauty. + +The man caught his breath as he watched her. His brows contracted. + +Softly she closed the window and turned. She came back to her chair +by his side, drew forward a little table, and began deftly to arrange +her flowers. + +Several seconds passed before Lucas broke the silence. "It does me good +to watch you," he said. "You're always so serene." + +She smiled at him across the violets. "You place serenity among the +higher virtues?" + +"I do," he said simply. "It's such a restful contrast to the +strenuousness of life. You make me feel just by looking at you that +everything's all right. You bring a peaceful atmosphere in with you, +and"--his voice sank a little--"you take it away again when you go." + +The smile went out of her grey eyes at his last words, but the +steadfastness remained. "Then," she said gently, "I must come more often +and stay longer." + +But he instantly negatived that. "No--it wouldn't be good for you. It +wouldn't be good for me either to get to lean on you too much. I should +grow exacting." + +She saw a gleam of his old smile as he spoke, but it was gone at once, +lost among the countless lines that pain and weariness had drawn of late +upon his face. + +"I don't think that is very likely," Anne said. "I can't imagine it." + +"Not yet perhaps. I haven't quite reached that stage. Maybe I shall be +down and out before it comes. God grant it!" + +The words were too deliberate to cause her any shock. They were, +moreover, not wholly unexpected. There followed a short silence while she +finished arranging her violets. Then very quietly she spoke: + +"You say that because you are tired." + +"I am more than tired," he answered. "I'm done. I'm beaten. I'm whipped +off the field." + +"You think you are not gaining ground?" she questioned. + +"My dear Lady Carfax," he said quietly, "it's no use closing one's eyes +to the obvious. I'm losing ground every day--every night." + +"But you are not fighting," she said. + +"No." He looked at her half-wistfully from under his heavy eyelids. "Do +you think me quite despicable? I've done my best." + +She was silent. Perhaps she was not fully prepared to cope with this open +admission of failure. + +"I've done my best," he said again. "But it's outlasted my strength. I'm +like a man hanging on to the edge of a precipice. I know every instant +that my grip is slackening, and I can't help it. I've got to drop." + +"You haven't done your best yet," Anne said, her voice very low. "You've +got to hold on to the very end. It may be help is nearer than you think." + +"But if I don't want help?" he said. "If it would be more merciful to +let me go?" + +Again she was silent. + +"You know," he said, "life hasn't many inducements. I've put up a fight +for it because I gave my promise to Nap before he went. But it isn't good +enough to keep on. I can't win through. The odds are too great." + +"Do you think Nap would let you stop fighting?" she said. + +He smiled again faintly. "I suppose--if he were here--I should subsist on +his vitality for a little while. But the end would be the same. Even he +can't work miracles." + +"Don't you believe in miracles?" Anne said. + +He looked at her interrogatively. + +"Mr. Errol," she said, "I am going to remind you of something that I +think you have forgotten. It was Dr. Capper who told me. It was when you +were recovering consciousness after the operation. You sent me a message. +'Tell Anne,' you said, 'I am going to get well.'" She paused a moment, +looking at him very steadily. "I don't know why exactly you sent that +special message to me, but I have carried it in my heart ever since." + +She had moved him at last. She saw a faint glow spread slowly over the +tired face. The heavy eyes opened wide to meet her look. + +"Did I say that?" he said. "Yes, I had forgotten." + +He was silent for a little, gazing full at her with the eyes of one +suddenly awakened. + +She lowered her own, and bent her face to the violets. Though she had +spoken so quietly it had not been without effort. She had not found +it easy. Nor did she find his silence easy, implicitly though she +trusted him. + +Perhaps he understood, for when he spoke at length there was in his +voice so reassuring a gentleness that on the instant her +embarrassment passed. + +"Anne," he said, "do you really want me to get well? Would such a miracle +make much difference to you?" + +"It would make all the difference in the world," she answered earnestly. +"I want it more than anything else in life." + +With the words she raised her eyes, found his fixed upon her with an +expression so new, so tender, that her heart stirred within her as a +flower that expands in sudden sunshine, and the next moment his hand lay +between her own, and all doubt, all hesitation had fled. + +"But, my dear," he said, "I always thought it was Nap. Surely it was +Nap!" + +She felt as if something had stabbed her. "No, never!" she said +passionately. "Never! It might have been--once--before I knew him. But +never since, never since!" + +"That so?" said Lucas Errol, and was silent for a little. Then, +"Anne"--and the soft drawl had in it a tremor that was almost a break--"I +guess I do believe in miracles after all, dear. Anyway," he began to +smile, "there are some things in life too mighty for explanation." + +His face was turned towards her. There was something in the look it wore +that seemed to her in some fashion superb. He was different from other +men. That quiet kingliness of his was so natural to him, so sublimely +free from arrogance. He was immeasurably greater than his fellows by +reason of the very smallness of his self-esteem. + +"Guess I must take up my burden again and step out," he said. "You won't +catch me slacking any after this. And--if I don't win out, dear, you'll +know that it just wasn't possible because God didn't will it so." + +"Oh, but you will!" she said, clasping his hand more closely. "You will! +God knows how badly I want you." + +"His Will be done!" said Lucas Errol. "But I want you too, dearest. I +want you too." + +His fingers stirred in her hold. It was the merest movement, but she +knew his meaning. She slipped to her knees by his side, leaned down and +kissed him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A VOICE THAT CALLED + + +Christmas came and went--the most peaceful Christmas that Anne had ever +known. A wonderful peace had indeed begun to possess her. It was as if +after long tossing she had come at last into quiet waters, and a +contentment such as she had never known before was hers. Her health had +improved in this calm, untroubled atmosphere. She slept without dreaming. +She had put all regrets and fears out of her life. + +Lucas filled all her thoughts. Had he allowed it, she would have devoted +herself exclusively to him, but this he would not have. Very slowly, very +painfully, he had struggled out of his Slough of Despond, and what that +struggle had meant to him none but himself would ever know. And now that +he had made it, and in a measure succeeded, he suffered scarcely less +than before. His strength was undoubtedly greater, his spirits were more +even; but these were the only visible signs of improvement. The long, +sleepless nights with spells of racking pain continued. Perhaps they +became less frequent as time went on, but they did not cease. + +Anne always knew, though the same brave smile greeted her every day, +when he had been through one of these ordeals. He was always so ready +to tell her when the news was good, but when it was otherwise his lips +were sealed upon the subject. He never uttered a desponding word in +her presence. + +But still, gradual, often halting though it was, he did make progress. He +went forward more than he slipped back. And ever he carried in his eyes +the light of a great hope. She knew that he did not despair, even in his +own hidden soul. + +And day by day her love and admiration for the man grew and spread, +filling her life, renewing her youth, transforming her very existence. +Day by day she sounded greater depths of a nature that made her feel +infinitely small in comparison. Day by day she marvelled afresh at the +greatness and the simplicity that went to the making of this man's soul. + +No one, save Mrs. Errol, knew of what had passed between them. They +scarcely referred to it even in private. There was no need, for the +understanding between them was complete. By mutual consent they awaited +the coming of Capper and the final miracle. + +Slowly the dark, bitter days of January dragged away. The Hunt Ball had +been postponed till the following month when the Town Hall, which had +been building all the winter, should be complete. Anne, to her dismay, +had been unanimously elected to perform the opening ceremony. Her +position as Lady of the Manor made her prominent, and, no substitute +being forthcoming, she had been obliged reluctantly to consent. Her deep +mourning enabled her to avoid any succeeding social function, but, since +she had broken her seclusion, she found it impossible to escape the +ceremony itself. + +She had never enjoyed social prominence, and she was thankful that at the +Hunt Ball at least her presence could not be expected. She never thought +of the last that she had attended without a shiver. It had been her +birthday, and this fact brought it to mind the more persistently. This +year she spent the day in the peaceful atmosphere of Baronmead, driving +home at length, through the frosty starlight, in the Errols' car. + +She strove as she went to put away from her the memory of that other ride +of a year ago, when she had been borne swiftly through the darkness as +though upon wings, when she had lain back exhausted in her corner and +dreamed a strange, vivid dream, while Nap had sat upright beside her, +alert, silent, inscrutable, plucking the gloves to tatters between his +restless hands. + +The vision would not be excluded, strive though she might. She leaned +amongst the cushions and closed her eyes, trying to trick herself to +drowsiness, but on the instant he was there beside her again, a +ruthless, indomitable presence, which would not be ignored. She was glad +when she came to her journey's end. + +Entering the hall, she gathered up a few letters that lay there, and went +straight to her room. With a feeling of unwonted fatigue she dropped into +an easy-chair and sat for awhile inert. On her right hand she wore a ring +that Lucas had given her only that day. + +He had half-apologised for his offering. "If you think it premature, +don't wear it!" he had said. + +And she had slipped it on to her right hand and worn it ever since. + +She recalled the kindling of his tired eyes at her action, and smiled +sadly to herself. How little she had to give him after all! And yet he +was content! + +Sitting there, she raised her hand and looked closely at the gift. It was +a complete circle of diamonds. She had never seen such a ring before. It +must have cost a fortune. She wondered if she ought to wear it. Again +memory began to crowd upon her, strive though she would. + +"Do you like diamonds?" asked a casual voice. + +Her hand fell into her lap. She sat as one watching a scene upon a stage, +rapt and listening. She wanted to rise and move away, to break the magic +spell that bound her, to flee--to flee--but she was powerless. + +"No," said the voice. "You haven't a passion for anything at present. +You will have soon." + +There fell a silence in her soul, a brief darkness, then again words, no +longer casual, but quick, burning, passionate. + +"I am mad--I am mad for you, Anne! Goddess--queen--woman--you are +mine--you are mine--you are mine!" And then, less fiery, less vehement, +but infinitely more compelling: "Where is your love for me? I will swear +that you loved me once!" + +The voice ceased, was lost in the wild throbbing of her heart, and Anne's +hands clenched unconsciously. In that moment there came to her the +conviction, inexplicable but extraordinarily vivid, that across the world +Nap Errol had called to her--and had called in vain. + +Minutes passed. She sat as one in a trance. Her eyes were wide and fixed. +Her face was grey. + +She rose at last and stood looking down into the red depths of the +fire. The coals sank together under her eyes, and a sudden flame flared +fiercely for a moment and died. It was like the opening and the +shutting of a furnace door. A long, long shiver went through her. She +turned away.... + +Anne Carfax did not look in her glass again that day. For the third time +in her life she was afraid to meet her own eyes. + +And all night long her brain thrummed like a vibrating wire to a voice +that sometimes pleaded but more often gibed. "Has the Queen no further +use for her jester?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE UNINVITED GUEST + + +Spring came early that year, and the day fixed for the opening of the +Baronford Town Hall was brilliantly fine and warm. Anne was staying at +Baronmead for the event. The end of February was approaching. Lucas was +decidedly better. His sleep was becoming less broken. He suffered +considerably less; and he took a keen interest in all that passed. + +On the morning before the ceremony he greeted Anne with an eagerness +that almost amounted to impatience. "Come in! Come in! I've something to +show you." + +He was alone. She went to his side and kissed him. + +His hands caught hers, and she marvelled at the strength of his grip. +"Sweetheart," he said, "I've had a letter from Capper." + +She felt the blood ebb suddenly from her face. She stood a moment in +silence, then sat down and pressed his hand close against her heart. + +"What does he say?" she asked. + +He looked at her oddly for a few seconds. Then: "It's good news, dear," +he said. "You mustn't let it scare you." + +She began to smile, though her lips were trembling. "No, of course not. +Tell me what he says." + +He gave her the letter and she read. Capper wrote that he had received an +excellent report from Dr. Randal of his patient's progress, that he +expected to be in England in about a fortnight and would come down +himself to ascertain if the time for the second operation had arrived. He +wrote in a cheery strain, and at the end of the letter was a postscript: +"Have you taken my advice yet with regard to _la femme_?" + +"An ancient joke," explained Lucas with a smile. "He told me long ago +that I should need a woman's help to pull me through. And"--his voice +dropped--"I guess he was right." + +The colour came back to her face. She pressed his hand without speaking. + +"I shouldn't be here now but for you, Anne," he said, his blue eyes +watching her. "I sometimes think it must have been a mortal strain upon +you. Have you felt it so very badly, I wonder?" + +She met his look with eyes grown misty. "Luke--my dearest--you have done +far greater things for me. You have kept me from starvation. You have no +idea what you are to me." + +The words came brokenly. She checked a sudden sob and, rising, moved to +the window. + +Lucas lay silent, but his eyes watched her with a great tenderness. + +When she came back to him she was smiling. "Have you ever begun to think +of what you will do when you are well?" she said. + +"I am thinking of it always," he answered. "I make wonderful pictures for +myself sometimes. You are the central figure of them all." + +She clasped his hand again in hers. "Lucas," she said, "will you +take me away?" + +"Yes, dear," he said. + +"Far away from anywhere I have ever been before?" Her voice shook a +little. "I want to begin life over again where everything is new." + +A certain shrewdness gleamed in the steady eyes that watched her, but it +was mingled with the utmost kindness. + +"I guess I'd better show you my best picture right now," he said. "It's +got a steam yacht in it, and a state cabin fit for a queen. And it goes +rocking around the world, looking for the Happy Islands. I guess we shall +find them some day, sweetheart--maybe sooner than we think." + +"Ah, yes," she said. "We won't stop looking till we do. How soon shall we +start, Luke?" + +He answered her with a smile, but there was a thrill of deep feeling in +his words. "Just as soon as I can stand on my feet like any other man, +Anne, and hold the woman I love in my arms." + +She bent her face suddenly, pressing her cheek to the hand she held. "I +am ready for you when ever you will," she murmured. + +"I know it," he said. "And God bless you for telling me so!" + +He was full of kindness to her that day, and she thought him cheerier +than he had been all the winter. When she bade him good-bye that +afternoon he seemed in excellent spirits. Yet after she was gone he lay +for a long while staring at the specks of dust that danced in a shaft of +sunlight, with the air of a man seeking the solution of a problem that +baffled him. And once very suddenly he sighed. + +Anne went through the ordeal of publicity with less embarrassment than +she had anticipated. Mrs. Errol was with her, and she was surrounded by +friends. Even Major Shirley deigned to look upon her with a favourable +eye. Bertie was hunting, but Dot was present to view the final +achievement of her favourite scheme. + +She seized the first opportunity to slip her arm through Anne's. "Do--do +come home with me to tea," she whispered very urgently. "I want to show +you some things I have been making. And make the dear mater come too, if +someone else doesn't snap her up first." + +But the dear mater was already snapped up, and Anne had some difficulty +in avoiding a like fate. + +Eventually, however, she succeeded in making her escape, and she and Dot +drove back to the Dower House, congratulating themselves. + +"I am lucky to get you all to myself," Dot said. "And do you know, dear +Lady Carfax, you are looking simply lovely to-day?" + +Anne smiled a little. She had discarded her widow's veil for the first +time, and she felt like a woman emerging from a long imprisonment. People +would call it premature, she knew. Doubtless they were already discussing +her not too charitably. But after all, why should she consider them? The +winter was past and over, and the gold of the coming spring was already +dawning. Why should she mourn? Were not all regrets put away for ever? + +"I wish you would call me Anne, Dot," she said. + +"To be sure I will," said Dot, with shining eyes. "I never liked the name +before I knew you. And now I love it." + +There was something wonderfully genuine and childlike about Dot, a +youthfulness that would probably cling to her all her life. Anne drew her +on to speak of herself and her coming happiness, which she did with that +cheery simplicity of hers that had first drawn Bertie to her. + +"He makes a tremendous fuss," she said, displaying Bertie's favourite +dimple at the thought. "I don't, you know. I somehow feel it's going to +be all right. But it's rather nice being petted for months together. I +haven't had a tantrum for ages. I'm afraid I'm getting spoilt." + +At which piece of logic Anne could not repress a smile. + +"He won't be home to tea," said Dot, when they finally turned in at the +Dower House. "He stables his hunters at Baronmead, and he is sure to go +in and see Luke. So we shall have it all to ourselves. I'm so glad, for I +have been wanting your advice for days. I wonder if anyone has been. +Hullo! Bertie's back after all!" + +A glow of firelight met them from the little square hall as they +entered, and a smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the scent from the +burning logs. + +Dot stood back for her guest to precede her, but Anne stood +suddenly still. + +"Hullo!" said Dot again. + +A slim, straight figure was standing outlined against the firelight. Dot +stared as she stepped forward. + +"Why--Nap!" she said incredulously. + +He made a swift, elastic movement to meet her, caught her hands, laughed, +and kissed her. + +"Why--Dot!" he said. + +Dot continued to stare. "Good gracious!" she said. + +And in the doorway Anne stood like a statue, the soft spring dusk +behind her. + +"My sister seems surprised," said Nap. "I hope I haven't come at an +unlucky moment." + +He did not even glance towards the silent figure in the doorway. It was +as if he had not observed it. + +"I am surprised," said Dot. "Hugely surprised. But I'm very glad to see +you," she added. "When did you come?" + +"I have been here about half an hour," he told her coolly. "I went to the +Rectory first, where I learned for the first time of your marriage. You +forgot to mention that detail when you wrote. Hence my brotherly salute, +which you must have missed on your wedding-day!" + +At this point Dot remembered her other guest, and turned with flushed +cheeks. "Lady Carfax--Anne--you--you know my brother-in-law Nap?" + +The pleading in her voice was unmistakable. She was evidently agitated, +wholly at a loss how to manage a most difficult situation. + +But Nap hastened to relieve her of the responsibility. He had dealt +with difficult situations before. He went straight to Anne and stood +before her. + +"Are you going to know me, Lady Carfax?" he asked. + +There was no arrogance in voice or bearing as he uttered the question. He +looked as if he expected to be dismissed, as if he were ready at a word +to turn and go. His eyes were lowered. His foot was already on the +threshold. + +But Anne stood speechless and rigid. For those few seconds she was as one +stricken with paralysis. She knew that if she moved or tried to speak she +would faint. + +She wondered desperately how long it would be before he looked up, if +perhaps he would go without looking at her, or if--ah, he was speaking +again! His words reached her as from an immense distance. At the same +instant his hands came to her out of a surging darkness that hid all +things, grasping, sustaining, compelling. She yielded to them, scarcely +knowing what she did. + +"Lady Carfax has been overtiring herself," she heard him say. "Have you +any brandy at hand?" + +"Oh, dear Lady Carfax!" cried Dot in distress. "Make her sit down, Nap. +Here is a cushion. Yes, I'll go and get some." + +Guided by those steady hands, Anne sank into a chair, and there +the constriction that bound her began to pass. She shivered from +head to foot. + +Nap stooped over her and chafed her icy hands. He did not look at her or +speak. When Dot came back, he took the glass from her and held it very +quietly to the quivering lips. + +She drank, responsive to his unspoken insistence, and as she did so, for +a single instant she met his eyes. They were darkly inscrutable and gave +her no message of any sort. She might have been accepting help from a +total stranger. + +"No more, please!" she whispered, and he took the glass away. + +The front door was still open. He drew it wider, and the evening air blew +in across her face. Somewhere away in the darkness a thrush was warbling +softly. Nap stood against the door and waited. Dot knelt beside her, +holding her hand very tightly. + +"I am better," Anne said at last. "Forgive me, dear child. I suppose it +has been--too much for me." + +"My dear, dear Anne!" said Dot impulsively. "Would you like to come into +the drawing-room? There is tea there. But of course we will have it here +if you prefer it." + +"No," Anne said. "No. We will go to the drawing-room." + +She prepared to rise, and instantly Nap stepped forward. But he did not +offer to touch her. He only stood ready. + +When he saw that she had so far recovered herself as to be able to move +with Dot's assistance, he dropped back. + +"I am going, Dot," he said. "You will do better without me. I will look +in again later." + +And before Dot could agree or protest he had stepped out into the +deepening twilight and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE HEART OF A SAVAGE + + +It had certainly been a successful afternoon. Mrs. Errol smiled to +herself as she drove back to Baronmead. Everything had gone well. Dear +Anne had looked lovely, and she for one was thankful that she had +discarded her widow's weeds. Had not her husband been virtually dead to +her for nearly a year? Besides--here Mrs. Errol's thoughts merged into a +smile again--dear Anne was young, not much more than a girl in years. +Doubtless she would marry again ere long. + +At this point Mrs. Errol floated happily away upon a voyage of day-dreams +that lasted till the car stopped. So engrossed was she that she did not +move for a moment even then. Not until the door was opened from outside +did she bestir herself. Then, still smiling, she prepared to descend. + +But the next instant she checked herself with a violent start that nearly +threw her backwards. The man at the step who stood waiting to assist her +was no servant. + +"My!" she gasped. "Is it you, Nap, or your ghost?" + +"It's me," said Nap. + +Very coolly he reached out a hand and helped her to descend. "We have +arrived at the same moment," he said. "I've just walked across the park. +How are you, alma mater?" + +She did not answer him or make response of any sort to his greeting. She +walked up the steps and into the house with leaden feet. The smile had +died utterly from her face. She looked suddenly old. + +He followed her with the utmost composure, and when she stopped proceeded +to divest her of her furs with the deftness of movement habitual to him. + +Abruptly she spoke, in her voice a ring of something that was almost +ferocity. "What have you come back for anyway?" + +He raised his eyebrows slightly without replying. + +But Mrs. Errol was not to be so silenced. Her hands fastened with +determination upon the front of his coat. "You face me, Napoleon Errol," +she said. "And answer me honestly. What have you come back for? Weren't +there enough women on the other side to keep you amused?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Women in plenty--amusement none. Moreover, I +didn't go to be amused. Where is Lucas?" + +"Don't you go to Lucas till I've done with you," said Mrs. Errol. "You +come right along to my room first." + +"What for?" He stood motionless, suffering her restraining hands, the +beginning of a smile about his lips. + +"There's something I've got to tell you," she said. + +"Lead the way then, alma mater!" he said. "I am very much at your +service." + +Mrs. Errol turned without further words, and he, with her sables +flung across his shoulder, prepared to follow. She moved up the +stairs as if she were very weary. The man behind her walked with the +elasticity of a cat. + +But there was no lack of resolution about her when in her own room she +turned and faced him. There was rather something suggestive of a mother +animal at bay. + +"Nap," she said, and her deep voice quivered, "if there's any right +feeling in you, if you are capable of a single spark of affection, of +gratitude, you'll turn around right now and go back to the place you +came from." + +Nap deposited his burden on the back of a chair. His dark face was devoid +of the faintest shadow of expression. "That so?" he drawled. "I thought +you seemed mighty pleased to see me." + +"Lock that door!" said Mrs. Errol. "Now come and sit here where you can +see my face and know whether I am telling the truth." + +He smiled at that. "I don't require ocular evidence, alma mater. I have +always been able to read you with my eyes shut." + +"I believe you have, Nap," she said, with a touch of wistfulness. + +"It isn't your fault," he said, "that you weren't made subtle enough. +You've done your best." + +He came and sat down facing her as she desired. The strong electric light +beat upon his face also, but it revealed nothing to her anxious +eyes--nothing save that faint, cynical smile that masked so much. + +She shook her head. She was clasping and unclasping her hands restlessly. +"A very poor best, Nap," she said. "I know only too well how badly I've +failed. It never seemed to matter till lately, and now I would give the +eyes out of my head to have a little influence with you." + +"That so?" he said again. + +She made a desperate gesture. "Yes, you sit there and smile. It doesn't +matter to you who suffers so long as you can grab what you want." + +"How do you know what I want?" he said. + +"I don't know," said Mrs. Errol. "I only surmise." + +"And you think that wise? You are not afraid of tripping up in the dark?" + +She stretched out her hands to him in sudden earnest entreaty. "Nap, tell +me that it isn't Anne Carfax, and I'll bless you with my dying breath!" + +But he looked at her without emotion. He took her hands after a moment, +but it was the merest act of courtesy. He did not hold them. + +"And if it were?" he said slowly, his hard eyes fixed on hers. + +She choked back her agitation with the tears running down her face. "Then +God help Lucas--and me too--for it will be his death-blow!" + +"Lucas?" said Nap. + +He did not speak as if vitally interested, yet she answered as if +compelled. + +"He loves her. He can't do without her. She has been his mainstay all +through the winter. He would have died without her." + +Nap passed over the information as though it were of no importance. "He +is no better then?" he asked. + +"Yes, he is better. But he has been real sick. No one knows what he has +come through, and there is that other operation still to be faced. I'm +scared to think of it. He hasn't the strength of a mouse. It's only the +thought of Anne that makes him able to hold on. I can see it in his eyes +day after day--the thought of winning out and making her his wife." + +Again he passed the matter over. "When does Capper come again?" + +"Very soon now. In two or three weeks. There was a letter from him +to-day, Lucas was quite excited about it, but I fancy it upset dear Anne +some. You see--she loves him too." + +There fell a silence. Mrs. Errol wiped her eyes and strove to compose +herself. Somehow he had made her aware of the futility of tears. She +wondered what was passing in his mind as he sat there sphinx-like, +staring straight before him. Had she managed to reach his heart, she +wondered? Or was there perchance no heart behind that inscrutable mask to +reach? Yet she had always believed that after his own savage fashion he +had loved Lucas. + +Suddenly he rose. "If you have quite done with me, alma mater, I'll go." + +She looked up at him apprehensively. "What are you going to do?" + +He smiled abruptly. "I am going to get a drink." + +"And what then?" she asked feverishly. "Nap, oh, Nap, she is staying in +the house. Won't you go without seeing her?" + +"I have seen her already," drawled Nap. + +"You have seen her?" + +His smile became contemptuous. "What of it? Do you seriously suppose she +is the only woman in the world I care to look at?" + +"I don't know what to think," cried Mrs. Errol. "I only know that you +hold Luke's fate between your hands." + +He was already at the door. He turned and briefly bowed. "You flatter me, +alma mater!" he said. + +And with the smile still upon his lips he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DIVINE SPARK + + +"Boney, old chap, you're the very man I want!" Such was Lucas Errol's +greeting to the man who had shot like a thunderbolt into the peaceful +atmosphere that surrounded him, to the general disturbance of all others +who dwelt therein. + +"I guess you must have known it," he said, the sinewy hand fast gripped +in his. "You've come like an answer to prayer. Where have you been all +this time? And why didn't you write? It's worried me some not hearing." + +"Great Lucifer!" said Nap. + +He sat down, leaving his hand in his brother's grasp. The cynicism had +gone utterly from his face, but he did not answer either question. + +"So you are winning out?" he said. "It's been a long trail, I'll wager." + +"Oh, damnably long, Boney." Lucas uttered a weary sigh. "I was nearly +down and out in the winter. But I'm better, you know. I'm better." He +met the open criticism of Nap's eyes with a smile. "What's the +verdict?" he asked. + +"I'll tell you presently. You're not looking overfed anyway." Nap's +fingers began to feel along his wrist. "Did Capper say he wanted a +skeleton to work on?" + +"Shucks, dear fellow! There's more than enough of me. Tell me about +yourself. What have you been doing? I want to know." + +"I?" Nap jerked back his head. "I've nothing to tell," he declared. +"You know what I went to do. Well, I've done it, and that's all there +is to it." + +"I'm not quite clear as to what you went to do," Lucas answered. "You +didn't turn up in Arizona. I was puzzled what to think." + +"You never expected me to go to Arizona," said Nap with conviction. "You +were shrewd enough for that." + +"Thanks, Boney! P'r'aps I was. But I've been hoping all this while, +nevertheless, that you might have the grit to keep the devil at +arm's length." + +Nap laughed, stretched his arms above his head, and made a vehement +gesture as if flinging something from him--something that writhed +and clung. + +"Will it interest you to know that the devil has ceased to provide me +with distractions?" he asked suddenly. + +A certain eagerness came into the blue eyes. "That so, Boney?" + +Nap leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "It's no virtue of mine," he +said. "I found I wanted solitude, so I went to the Rockies and stayed +there till I was tired. That's all." + +Again the skeleton hand of the man on the bed sought and pressed his. +"Old chap, I'm real glad," the tired voice drawled. "You've found +yourself at last. I always felt you would--sooner or later." + +Nap's lips twitched a little. "Don't be too sure of that. Anyway it +doesn't follow that I shall sit at home and practise the domestic +virtues. I've got to wander a bit first and find my own level." + +"Not yet, dear fellow. I'm wanting you myself." + +"You!" The thin lips began to smile. "That's real magnanimous of you. +But--thanks all the same--I'm not taking any. You have the mater and +Bertie and Anne Carfax to bolster you up. I guess I'm not essential." + +"And I guess you can do more for me than any one of them," Lucas made +quiet reply. "P'r'aps you'll think me a selfish brute to say so, but I +need you badly. You're like a stimulating drug to me. You pick me up when +I'm down. There is no one can help me in the same way." + +"You wouldn't get Capper to say 'Amen' to that," remarked Nap. + +"Capper is no oracle out of his own sphere. Besides," there was almost a +note of pleading in Lucas's voice, "I know what I want better than he +can tell me." + +"True, very true!" Nap was smiling somewhat grimly. "And doubtless your +wish is law. But it doesn't follow that you always desire what is best +for yourself. Hadn't you better consult the queen before you admit the +wasp to the hive?" + +"You're too fond of talking in parables, my son," protested Lucas, +frowning slightly. "My intelligence won't stretch to it." + +"We'll try another," said Nap imperturbably. "Do you think Anne Carfax +would thank you for asking me to pull in the same boat? Do you think she +would second that request? Because, if so, I beg to differ." + +He looked his brother full in the face as he said it, without the flicker +of an eyelid. Lucas's frown deepened. He lay in silence. + +After a moment Nap went on. "She may be ready to put up with it for your +sake. There's nothing some women won't do for a man they care for, and I +take it she has your welfare next her heart. But it's rather much to ask +of her. You wouldn't want to run the risk of frightening her away." + +Lucas was watching him gravely, his brows still drawn. "Boney," he said +slowly at length, "I'd give a good deal to see into your soul." + +Nap smiled with a faint return of cynicism. "Who's talking in parables +now? Afraid I can't show you what I haven't got." + +Lucas passed the rejoinder by. "What makes you conclude that I am more +to her than--any other man?" + +"Circumstances," said Nap. + +"What circumstances?" + +"Finding her installed here as one of the family for one. Finding you +pulling off the biggest deal of your life for another. And other +signs--crowds of them--that I can't explain but that I can't fail to +notice when I've got my nose to the trail. You needn't be shy about it. +I'm just as pleased as you are." + +But Lucas's face did not clear. There followed a very decided pause. +Then, with an effort, very earnestly, he spoke. + +"Nap, I don't believe you'll lie to me when I tell you that I'd rather +die than be deceived. I know you cared for her once." + +"I care for most women," said Nap indifferently. "What of that? It's the +way I'm made, and I must say they don't most of 'em seem to mind." + +"But, Boney--Anne Carfax?" + +Nap threw up his head with a brief laugh. "Oh, I'm cured of that--quite +cured. The paths of perpetual virtue are not for me. I prefer more rapid +travelling and a surer goal." + +He stood up, his arms stretched up above his head. "I make you a present +of Anne Carfax," he said lightly. "Not that she is mine to give. But I +wouldn't keep her if she were. We belong to different spheres." + +"And yet--" Lucas said. + +"My dear fellow, that's an old story." Impulsively Nap cut in, almost +fierily. "Do you think the woman is living who could hold me after +all this time? I tell you that fire is burnt out. Why rake over the +dead ashes?" + +"I am looking for the Divine Spark," Lucas answered quietly. + +"And if you found it?" Nap's words came through smiling lips, and yet +they sounded savage. + +"If I found it," very steadily came the answer, "I would blow it to a +flame, Boney, for your sake--and hers." + +"For hers?" Something fierce showed in Nap's eyes. It was as if a goaded +animal suddenly looked out of them. + +Lucas must have seen it, for on the instant his manner changed. + +"We won't go any further," he said. "Only, dear fellow, I can't part with +you yet. Let that be understood. I want you." + +"So be it!" said Nap. "I will stay and see you married." + +And with the words he stooped and grasped his brother's hand for a +moment. + +"Go on and prosper, Luke," he said. "It's high time that you came into +your own." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE QUEEN'S PARDON + + +As soon as Anne entered Baronmead that evening she was aware of a +difference. Bertie, with a thunderous countenance, came forward to +meet her. She had not seen him wear that look in all the months of +Nap's absence. + +"The prodigal has returned," he told her briefly. "P'r'aps you know." + +She did not pretend to misunderstand him. She had schooled herself to +face the situation without shrinking. + +"Yes, I know," she said. "I met him at your house an hour ago." + +"At my house!" For a single instant Bertie looked downright murderous, +and then the sight of Anne's pale face made him restrain himself. + +"He didn't stay," she said rather wearily. "What of Luke? Has he +seen him?" + +"Can't understand Luke," muttered Bertie. "He's actually pleased. Say, +Lady Carfax, would it help any if I were to stop and dine?" + +"No," Anne said, smiling a little. "Go back to Dot, won't you? She is +expecting you." + +She saw that he was glad to follow her suggestion, and she was +undoubtedly glad to see him go. He was plainly in an explosive mood. + +Mrs. Errol came to her room while she was dressing. But Mrs. Errol had +had ample time to compose herself. She showed no agitation, and spoke of +Nap's unexpected arrival as if she were quite indifferent to his comings +and goings; but she hovered about Anne with a protecting motherliness +that did not need to express itself in words. When they went downstairs +she held Anne's arm very closely. + +But the ordeal that both were mutely dreading did not take place that +night. Nap did not present himself at the dinner-table, and they dined +alone in unspoken relief. + +Anne went to Lucas as usual when the meal was over, but she thought he +seemed tired and she did not remain with him long. + +He kept her hand for a moment when she stooped to bid him good-night. + +"Anne," he said gently, "I just want you to know, dear, that Nap will be +all right. Don't be anxious any. There is no need." + +He desired to reassure her, she saw; and she bent and kissed him. And +then for a moment a queer gust of passion possessed her, shook her from +head to foot. + +"Oh, Luke," she whispered, "can't you send him away again?" + +He looked up at her oddly, with eyes that seemed to see beyond her. And +then, "Good-night, dear," he said, as if he had not heard. + +She turned from him in silence. It was the first time she had ever +appealed to Lucas Errol in vain. + +She went to her room early that night. She told herself she must leave on +the morrow. She was urged by a deep unrest. She could not remain under +the same roof with this man who had once so cruelly tortured her. She +could not. Lucas must understand this. He must never ask it of her, +never--never! + +She did not in the least understand the latter's attitude. The more she +thought of it, the more it troubled her. She felt as if he had suddenly +ceased to be on her side, had, as it were, shut off his sympathy and left +her groping and alone. It was not like him to treat her thus. It hurt her +subtly, wounding her as she had never expected to be wounded, shaking her +faith in what she had ever believed to be immutable. And then she +remembered the physical weakness with which he had wrestled so long, and +a great pity flooded her heart. She would not let herself be hurt any +longer. Was he not reserving his strength for her sake? And could she +not, for his, face bravely this sudden obstacle that had arisen in her +path? Moreover, had he not told her that all would be well? And he had +said it as one who knew. Why, then, was she harbouring this wild dismay? + +Why? Why? She asked the question, but she did not seek the answer. She +dared not. + +And yet in the morning she went down with a calm aspect, resolute and +unafraid. Once more she was compelling herself to do simply that which +lay nearest to her hand. + +Nap came out of a room near the foot of the stairs as she descended. +He scarcely looked at her, but quite obviously he had been awaiting +her coming. + +"May I have two words with you before you join the mater?" he asked. + +With her whole soul she wanted to refuse. Yet without visible hesitation +she yielded. She turned aside into the room he had just quitted. + +He followed, and, closing the door, came forward to the table. It was +littered with guns and cleaning apparatus. He had evidently been +employing himself while he waited, and he at once took up an oily rag and +resumed operations, his swarthy face bent over his task, his lips very +firmly compressed. + +Anne waited for a moment or two. His attitude puzzled her. She had become +so accustomed to the fierce directness of his stare that its absence +disconcerted her. + +"What is it you wish to say to me?" she asked at length. + +At the first sound of her voice he ceased to work, but still he did not +raise his eyes. + +"On my own account--nothing," he said, speaking very deliberately. "But +as my sojourn here may be an offence to you, I think it advisable to +explain at the outset that I am not a free agent. My brother has +decreed it, and as you know"--a hint of irony crept into his voice--"his +will is my law." + +"I understand," said Anne gravely, but even as she spoke she was asking +herself what possible motive had prompted this explanation. + +He jerked up his head and she caught the glint of his fiery eyes for an +instant. "You--care for Lucas, Lady Carfax?" he said. + +Her heart gave a sudden throb that hurt her intolerably. For a moment she +could not speak. + +Then, "Yes," she said. "I love him." + +Nap was pulling mechanically at the rag he held. It began to tear between +his hands. She watched him ripping it to shreds. + +Suddenly he seemed to realise what he was doing, and tossed it from him. +He looked her straight in the eyes. + +"Have you fixed the date for your coronation?" he asked. + +Her eyes fell instantly. "Will you tell me what you mean?" she said. + +"Is my meaning obscure?" + +She compelled herself to answer him steadily. "If you mean our marriage, +it will not take place for some time, possibly not this year." + +"Why not?" said Nap. "Are you a slave to etiquette?" + +The thing sounded preposterous on his lips. She faintly smiled. "The +decision does not lie with me." + +"Ah!" he said shrewdly. "The privilege of kings! You will still be a +queen before you are thirty. And your first act will be to expel the +court jester--if he waits to be expelled." + +She saw his grim smile for an instant, and knew that he was playing his +old fencing game with her, but at the same time she knew that there was +no antagonism behind his point. How the knowledge came to her she could +not have said, but she realised afterwards that it was at that moment +that she began to perceive that the devil had gone out of Nap Errol. The +conviction was slow in growing, but it was then that it first took root; +it was then that her fear of the man began to die away. + +She raised her eyes. "Why should I do that, Nap?" + +He made her a deep bow. "Because I have been unfortunate enough to incur +your displeasure." + +There was a moment of silence, then, in obedience to that instinct to +which in rare moments she yielded herself and which never played her +false, Anne held out her hand to him. "I forgive you," she said. + +He started. He evidently had not expected that from her. Perhaps he had +not wanted it. Later she wondered. But he showed no awkwardness of +indecision. Only once had she ever seen him at a loss, and of that once +she would never voluntarily think again. + +He took her hand upon his sleeve and bent over it. She thought he was +going to kiss it, and a sharp dread went through her. But he only touched +it for a single instant with his forehead. + +"For Luke's sake?" he said, not looking at her. + +"For your own," she made answer, almost as if she could not help herself. + +"Because?" he questioned. + +"Because I know you love him," she said. "Because I know that you will be +loyal to him." + +"Though I may be false to you?" he said. + +She bent her head. "I am only a woman. I am afraid your experience of +women has not taught you to respect them." + +He picked up the gun again and fell to work upon it. "My experience of +one woman at least," he said, "has taught me--something different, +something I am not likely to forget." + +It was the end of the interview. In silence Anne turned to go. He wheeled +round and opened the door for her, but he did not look at her again, nor +she at him. When the door closed between them she felt as if a great +silence had fallen in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SOMETHING GREAT + + +On the day succeeding Nap's return Dot went to tea at Baronmead. She was +a very constant visitor there. Lucas always enjoyed her bright presence +and welcomed her with warmth. But Dot was not feeling very bright that +day. She looked preoccupied, almost worried. + +She found that Mrs. Errol and Anne had gone out, and, as her custom was +when she found the house deserted, she went straight to her +brother-in-law's room. + +Tawny Hudson answered her knock at the outer door, and she was struck by +the lowering look the great half-breed wore. His expression was +positively villainous, and sharp as a pin-prick there darted through her +the memory of her first visit to Baronmead, and the hatred of Nap Errol +she had that day seen revealed in the man's eyes. She had never given the +matter a thought since. To-day it awoke to life, stirring within her a +vague apprehension. + +"How is your master, Tawny?" she asked. + +"He is not so well, madam," said Tawny Hudson, but he opened the door +wide notwithstanding, inviting her to enter. + +She went in. The room adjoined that in which Lucas lay, and Hudson was +always there when not actually in attendance upon his master, except in +his off hours, which were as few as Lucas would permit. + +"May I see him?" said Dot. "Or would he rather not be disturbed?" + +Hudson stepped to the closed door and listened, his great red head bent +almost to the keyhole. + +After a few moments he stood up and softly turned the handle. He made a +brief sign to her and passed noiselessly into the room. + +Dot remained where she was. She heard Lucas accost him at once, and +caught the murmur of the man's low-spoken reply. And then in a moment +Hudson came back to her. + +"Will you go in, madam?" he said, in his careful English that always made +her think of an animal that had been taught to speak. + +She went in, treading lightly, relieved to leave the man's heavy scowling +visage behind her. + +"Come right in," said Lucas hospitably. "It's real good of you to come +and see me like this." + +She took his outstretched hand, looking at him anxiously. She saw that he +had not slept for many hours. Though he smiled at her, there was a grey +look about his lips that made her wonder if he were in pain. + +"Sit down," he said gently. "It's nothing. Only another bad night. I +can't expect to sleep soundly always." + +"How disappointing!" Dot murmured. + +"Not surprising though. I had an exciting day yesterday. You heard of +Nap's return?" + +"Yes." There was a very decided cloud upon Dot's face. "I saw him." + +"Well?" said Lucas. + +She turned to him impulsively. "Isn't it horrid when the thing you've +been planning for and wanting ever so long happens and everyone else +is cross?" + +The blue eyes looked quizzical. "Very, I should say," said Lucas. "Would +it be presumptuous to ask what has been happening and who is cross?" + +Dot's answering smile held more of pathos than mirth. Her lips took a +quivering, downward droop. "It's Nap," she said. + +He raised his brows a little. "Nap seems the general pivot on which all +grievances turn," he remarked. + +Dot leaned her chin on her hand. "I do so hate making mistakes," she +said. + +"We all do it," said Lucas. + +"Oh, you don't!" She turned and gravely regarded him. "You are always +wise," she said, "never headlong." + +"Which only demonstrates your ignorance and the kindness of your heart," +said Lucas. "But go on, won't you? What has Nap been doing?" + +"Oh, nothing. Nap is all right. It isn't Nap I mind." Again that doleful +droop of the lips became apparent, together with a little quiver of the +voice undeniably piteous. "It--it's Bertie," whispered Dot. "I--I--it's +very ridiculous, isn't it? I'm a wee bit afraid of Bertie, do you know?" + +"St. Christopher!" said Lucas, in astonishment. + +"Yes. But you won't ever tell him, will you?" she pleaded anxiously. +"If--if he knew or guessed--all my prestige would be gone. I shouldn't +be able to manage him at all. He--he is rather difficult to manage +sometimes, don't you think?" + +Lucas was frowning slightly. "I guess I can manage him," he said. + +"No doubt you could. I expect you always have. He respects you," said +Dot, with unwitting wistfulness. + +Lucas turned his head and looked at her very steadily. "Will you tell me +something, Dot?" he said. + +She nodded. + +"Why are you afraid of Bertie?" + +She hesitated. + +"Come!" he said. "Surely you're not afraid of me too!" + +The banter in his voice was touched with a tenderness that went straight +to Dot's young heart. She leaned down impetuously and held his hand. + +"No," she said tremulously. "I'm not such a little idiot as that, Luke. +I'm afraid of Bertie because I've done something he wouldn't like. It's +a very little thing, Luke. It is, really. But--but it's bothered me off +and on all the winter. And now that Nap is home, I feel much worse--as +if--as if it had been really wrong. And--and"--she broke down +suddenly--"I know I ought to tell him. But--I can't." + +"Tell me," said Lucas gently. + +"And you will tell him for me?" + +"If you wish me to do so." + +"I don't like it," sobbed Dot. "It's so despicable of me. I've wanted to +tell him for ever so long. But he has been so good to me all this time, +and--and somehow I couldn't face it. We haven't even squabbled for months +now. It--it seemed such a pity to spoil everything when it really didn't +make any difference to anyone if he knew or not." + +"Don't cry," interposed Lucas. "It would hurt Bertie if he knew." + +"Dear Bertie!" whispered Dot. "Isn't it horrid of me to be such a coward? +I haven't done anything really wrong either. In fact at the time it +seemed almost right." + +"Almost!" said Lucas, faintly smiling. + +She smiled also through her tears. "Why don't you call me a humbug? Well, +listen! It was like this. One night in the beginning of the winter Bertie +and I had a disagreement about Nap. It wasn't at all important. But I had +to stick up for him, because I had chanced to see him just before he +left in the summer--you remember--when he was very, very miserable?" + +"I remember," said Lucas. + +He spoke rather wearily, but his eyes never left her face. He was +listening intently. + +"And I was frightfully sorry for him," proceeded Dot, "though at the +time I didn't know what was the matter. And I couldn't let Bertie say +horrid things about him. So I fired up. And then Bertie told me"--she +faltered a little--"about Nap caring for Lady Carfax. And that was where +the trouble began. He didn't give him credit for really loving her, +whereas I knew he did." + +Strong conviction sounded in Dot's voice. The blue eyes that watched her +opened a little. + +"That so?" said Lucas. + +"Oh, I was sure," she said. "I was sure. There are some things a woman +can't help knowing. It was the key to what I knew before. I +understood--at once." + +"And then?" said Lucas. + +"Then, of course, I remembered that Lady Carfax was free. And I asked +Bertie if he knew. You see, I thought it possible that in her heart she +might be caring for him too. I knew they had always been friends. And Sir +Giles was such a brute to her. No woman could ever have loved him. I +think most people couldn't help knowing that. And it seemed only fair +that Nap should know that Sir Giles was dead. I told Bertie so. He didn't +agree with me." Dot paused and vigorously dried her eyes. "I still don't +think he was right," she said. + +"P'r'aps not." Lucas spoke meditatively. "There's a good deal to be said +for woman's intuition," he said. + +"It seemed to me a matter of fair play," maintained Dot. "He didn't know +where Nap was, only his club address. And he wouldn't write himself, so +I just wrote a single line telling Nap that Sir Giles was dead, and sent +it off that night. I didn't tell Bertie. It didn't seem to matter much +then, and I knew it might be ages before Nap got it. But now that that +line has brought him back, I feel as if he ought to know--particularly +as Bertie is so angry with him for returning. And Anne too--Anne nearly +fainted when she saw him. I felt as if I had landed everybody in a +hopeless muddle." Again Dot wiped her eyes. "And I had so wanted him to +come," she ended. + +"Don't fret," said Lucas very kindly. "I wanted him too." + +She looked at him eagerly. "You think as I do? You think he cares +for Anne?" + +"I guess so," he answered, "since your letter brought him back." + +"And--and Anne? Do you think--do you really think--?" + +"I guess so," he said again. + +He lay silent for a while, his eyes drooping heavily, till she even began +to wonder if he were falling asleep. + +At length, "Dot," he said, "have I your permission to make what use I +like of this?" + +She gave a slight start. "You are going to tell Bertie?" + +He looked at her. "My dear," he said, "I think Bertie had better know." + +She nodded. "I know he ought. But he will be furious with me." + +"Not if I talk to him," said Lucas, with his quiet smile. + +"But it's so mean of me," she protested. "And I'm sure it's bad for you." + +He reached out his hand to her. "No, it isn't bad for me, Dot. It's just +the best thing possible. You've put me in the way of something great." + +She squeezed his hand. "Do you really think you can make things go +right?" + +"Under God," said Lucas gravely. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING + + +Notwithstanding Lucas's assurance, Dot awaited her husband's coming in +undisguised trepidation that night. + +She had not seen Nap since that brief glimpse of him in the hall when +Anne had so nearly swooned. She did not so much as know if Bertie had +seen him at all. They had not met on the previous evening, but Bertie's +aspect had been so thunderous ever since he had heard of his return that +she had been on thorns lest he should present himself again at the Dower +House. That he would come sooner or later she knew, but she hoped with +all her heart that it might not be when Bertie was at home. + +She was convinced, moreover, that Bertie was going to be very angry with +her, and her heart sank the more she thought of it. Bertie's anger had +become a hard thing to face since he had made her know the depths of his +tenderness. + +The night was chilly, and her suspense made her cold. She sat very close +to the fire in the cosy curtained hall, shivering, and straining her +ears to catch the sound of his feet on the gravel. She had worked herself +into a state of anxiety that made her start at the faintest noise. + +It was nearing the dinner-hour, and she was beginning to wonder if +perhaps he were staying at Baronmead to dine, though he had never done so +before without sending her word, when there came the sudden hoot of a +motor and the rush of wheels upon the drive. + +She sat up, every pulse beating. It must be one of the Baronmead motors. +But Bertie always walked. + +She heard the car stop at the door, and she rose to her feet, scarcely +knowing what to expect. The next moment the door opened and she heard +Bertie's voice. + +"The car will be all right," he said. "It's a fine night. Go in, won't +you? I expect Dot is waiting." + +And with amazement Dot saw Nap enter the hall in front of her husband. + +He came straight to her just as he had come on the previous day, and she +had a moment of sheer panic lest he should have the effrontery to kiss +her; but he spared her this, though the smile with which he greeted her +told her that he was quite aware of her embarrassment and its cause. + +"Bertie has taken upon himself to ask me to dine," he said, as he held +her hand. "I hope that is quite agreeable to Mrs. Bertie?" + +"Of course I am delighted," she said, but her eyes sought Bertie's +somewhat anxiously notwithstanding. + +She saw with relief that the cloud had gone from his face. He came +forward, bent, and kissed her. His hand lay upon her shoulder for an +instant with a quick, reassuring touch, and she knew that all was well. + +"Heavens, child! How cold you are!" he said. "I'll bring you down a +shawl, shall I? Come along, Nap. We are late." + +They went upstairs together, and Dot waited below, listening to their +voices in careless converse and wondering by what means Lucas had wrought +so amazing a change. + +She wondered still more during dinner, for Nap was plainly upon his best +behaviour. He seemed determined that Bertie should be on easy terms with +him, and he was in a great measure successful. Though reticent, Bertie +was undoubtedly cordial. + +At the appearance of dessert Nap rose. "I must be getting back to +Lucas," he said. + +"Oh, skittles! He won't be wanting you," Bertie protested. "Sit down +again, man. You haven't been here an hour." + +But Nap was not to be persuaded. "Many thanks, but I'm going all the +same. I want to secure him a good night if possible. Good-bye, Mrs. +Bertie!" He bent and kissed her hand. "I am going to be pretty busy for +the next week or two, but I shall call on you when I have time." + +He took a cigarette from Bertie's case, and went out without stopping +to light it. + +Bertie followed him into the hall. "Shall I come?" he asked. + +"No," said Nap. + +He found a paper spill on the mantelpiece and lighted it. As he held it +to his cigarette he looked at Bertie with a smile. + +"Remember that day I baited you? It must be about a year ago." + +Bertie looked uncomfortable. "I remember," he said shortly. + +Abruptly Nap thrust out his hand. "I've eaten your salt now," he said. +"I'll never bait you again." + +Bertie gave his hand. "Is that what you wanted to dine for?" + +"Partly." Nap's fingers gripped and held. "Also I wanted to persuade you +that we are fighting for the same thing, only maybe with different +weapons. You'll bear it in mind, eh, friend Bertie?" + +Bertie looked at him hard for an instant. "I will," he said impulsively. + +"Good!" said Nap laconically. "It isn't going to be a walk over, but I +guess we'll pull it off between us." + +"Amen!" said Bertie fervently. + +And Nap wrung his hand and departed. For the first time in their +lives there was a friendly understanding between them. For the first +time Bertie was aware of a human heart throbbing behind that +impenetrable mask. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE FINAL DEFEAT + + +It was growing late that night when Lucas opened his eyes after a +prolonged and fruitless attempt to sleep, and found Nap standing at the +foot of the bed watching him. A lamp was burning in the room, but it was +turned very low. For a few seconds he lay wondering if the motionless +figure he saw had been conjured there by some trick of the shadows. Then +as he stirred he saw it move and at once he spoke. + +"Hullo, dear fellow! You! I never heard you come in." + +Nap stepped noiselessly to his side. "Don't talk!" he said. "Sleep!" + +"I can't sleep. It's no use. I was only pretending." Lucas stifled a sigh +of weariness. "Sit down," he said. + +But Nap stood over him and laid steady hands upon his wrists. His hold +was close and vital; it pressed upon the pulses as if to give them new +life. "You can sleep if you try," he said. + +Lucas shook his head with a smile. "I'm not a good subject, Boney. Thanks +all the same!" + +"Try!" Nap said insistently. + +But the blue eyes remained wide. "No, old chap. It's too high a price to +pay--even for sleep." + +"What do you mean?" There was a fierce note in the query, low as it was; +it was almost a challenge. + +Lucas answered it very quietly. "I mean that I'm afraid of you, Boney." + +"Skittles!" said Nap. + +"Yes, it may seem so to you; but, you see, I know what you are +trying to do." + +"What am I trying to do?" demanded Nap. + +Lucas paused for a moment; he was looking straight up into the harsh face +above his own. Then, "I know you," he said. "I know that you'll get the +whip hand of me if you can, and you'll clap blinkers on me and drive me +according to your own judgment. I never had much faith in your judgment, +Boney. And it is not my intention to be driven by you." + +There was no resentment in the tired voice, only unflagging +determination. + +Nap's hold slowly relaxed. "You don't trust me then?" + +"It's your methods I don't trust, dear fellow, not your motives. I'd +trust them to perdition." + +"But not my--honour?" Nap's lips twisted over the word. + +Lucas hesitated. "I believe you would be faithful to your own code," he +said at length. + +"But you don't consider that to trick a man who trusted me would be +against that code?" + +Again Lucas hesitated, and in the silence Nap straightened himself and +stood waiting, stern, implacable, hard as granite. + +"Don't do violence to yourself," he said cynically. + +On the instant Lucas spoke, in his voice a tremor that was almost +passionate. "Boney--Boney, old chap, have I wronged you? God knows I've +tried to be just. But are you straight? Are you honest? I'd give my soul +to be able to trust you. Only--dear fellow, forgive me--I can't!" + +Nap's hands clenched. "Why not?" he said. + +"Because," very slowly and painfully Lucas made reply, "I know that you +are trying to blind me. I know that you are sacrificing yourself--and +another--in order to deceive me. You are doing it to save me pain, +but--before God, Boney--you are torturing me in the doing far more than +you realise. I'd sooner die ten times over than endure it. I can bear +most things, but not this--not this!" + +Silence followed the words, a silence that was vital with many emotions. +Nap stood upright against the lamplight. He scarcely seemed to breathe, +and yet in his very stillness there was almost a hint of violence. He did +not attempt to utter a word. + +Lucas also lay awhile without speaking, as if exhausted. Then at length +he braced himself for further effort. "It seems to me there's only one +way out, Boney," he said gently. "It's no manner of use your trying to +deceive me any longer. I happen to know what brought you back, and I'm +thankful to know it. After all, her happiness comes first with both of +us, I guess. That's why I was so almighty pleased to see you in the first +place. That's why it won't hurt me any to let her go to you." + +Nap made a sharp movement and came out of his silence. "Luke, +you're mad!" + +"No, Boney, no! I'm saner than you are. When a fellow spends his life as +I do, he has time to look all round things. He can't help knowing. And +I'm not a skunk. It never was my intention to stand between her and +happiness." + +"Happiness!" Harshly Nap echoed the word; he almost laughed over it. +"Don't you know that she only tolerates me for your sake? She wouldn't +stay within a hundred miles of me if it weren't for you." + +"Oh, shucks, Boney!" A faint smile touched the worn face on the pillow. +"I know you hurt her infernally. But she will forgive you that--women do, +you know--though I guess she would have forgiven you easier if she hadn't +loved you." + +"Man, you're wrong!" Fiercely Nap flung the words. "I tell you there is +no love between us. I killed her love long ago. And as for myself--" + +"Love doesn't die," broke in Lucas Errol quietly. "I know all about it, +Boney. Guess I've always known. And if you tell me that your love for +Anne Carfax is dead, I tell you that you lie!" Again he faintly smiled. +"But I don't like insulting you, old chap. It's poor sport anyway. +Besides, I'm wanting you. That's why--" + +He stopped abruptly. A curious change had come over Nap, a change so +unexpected, so foreign to the man's grim nature, that even he, who knew +him as did none other, was momentarily taken by surprise. For suddenly, +inexplicably, Nap's hardness had gone from him. It was like the crumbling +of a rock that had withstood the clash of many tempests and yielded at +last to the ripple of a summer tide. + +With a sudden fierce movement he dropped down upon his knees beside the +bed, flinging his arms wide over his brother's body in such an agony of +despair as Lucas had never before witnessed. + +"I wish I were dead!" he cried out passionately. "I wish to Heaven I had +never lived!" + +It was a cry wrung from the very depths of the soul, a revelation of +suffering of which Lucas had scarcely believed him capable. It opened his +eyes to much that he had before but vaguely suspected. + +He laid a hand instantly and very tenderly upon the bowed head. "Shucks, +Boney!" he remonstrated gently. "Just when you are wanted most!" + +A great sob shook Nap. "Who wants me? I'm nothing but a blot on the face +of creation, an outrage, an abomination--a curse!" + +"You're just the biggest thing in that woman's life, dear fellow," +answered the tired voice. "You hang on to that. It'll hold you up, as God +always meant it should." + +Nap made an inarticulate sound of dissent, but the quiet restraint of his +brother's touch seemed to help him. He became still under it, as if some +spell were upon him. + +After a time Lucas went on in the weary drawl that yet held such an +infinite amount of human kindness. "Did you think I'd cut you out, Boney? +Mighty lot you seem to know of me! It's true that for a time I thought +myself necessary to her. Maybe, for a time I was. She hadn't much to live +for anyway. It's true that when you didn't turn up in Arizona I left off +expecting you to be faithful to yourself or to her. And so it seemed best +to take what she gave and to try to make her as happy as circumstances +would allow. But I never imagined that I ruled supreme. I know too well +that what a woman has given once she can never give again. I didn't +expect it of her. I never asked it. She gave me what she could, and I--I +did the same for her. But that bargain wouldn't satisfy either of us now. +No--no! We'll play the game like men--like brothers. And you must do your +part. Believe me, Boney, I desire nothing so earnestly as her happiness, +and if when I come to die I have helped to make this one woman happy, +then I shall not have lived in vain." + +Nap turned his head sharply. "Don't talk of dying! You couldn't die! And +do you seriously imagine for a single instant that I could ever give her +happiness?" + +"I imagine so, dear fellow, since she loves you." + +"I tell you she wouldn't have me if I asked her." + +"You don't know. Anyway, she must have the chance. If she doesn't take +it, well, she isn't the woman I imagine her to be." + +"She's a saint," Nap said, with vehemence. "And you, Luke,--you're +another. You were made for each other. She would be ten million times +happier with you. Why do you want her to marry a blackguard?" + +A shadow touched Lucas Errol's face, but it was only for an instant; the +next he smiled. "You are not a blackguard, Boney. I always said so. And +the love of a good woman will be your salvation. No, you're wrong. I +couldn't give her real happiness. There is only one man in the world can +give her that. And I--am not that man." He paused; his eyelids had begun +to droop, heavily. "Say, Nap, I believe I could sleep now," he said. + +"Yes, yes, old chap, you shall." Nap raised himself abruptly, banishing +his weakness in a breath; only a certain unwonted gentleness remained. +"You shall," he said again. "Guess you won't be afraid now you have got +your own way. But just one thing more. You'll be wanting all your +strength for yourself for the next few weeks. Will you--for my sake if +you like--put all this by till you are winning out on the other side? She +would say the same, if she knew." + +Lucas opened his eyes again, opened them wide, and fixed them steadily, +searchingly, upon his brother's face. + +"You'll play the straight game with me, Boney?" he questioned. "You won't +try to back out?" Then, in a different tone, "No, don't, answer! Forgive +me for asking! I know you." + +"I guess you do," Nap said, with the ghost of a smile, "better even than +I know myself. You know just how little I am to be trusted." + +"I trust you, Boney, absolutely, implicitly, from the bottom of my soul." + +The words left Lucas Errol's lips with something of the solemnity of an +oath. He held out a quiet hand. + +"Now let me sleep," he said. + +Nap rose. He stood for a moment in silence, holding the friendly hand, as +if he wished to speak, but could not. Then suddenly he bent. + +"Good-night, dear chap!" he said in a whisper, and with the words he +stooped and kissed the lined forehead of the man who trusted him.... + +Half an hour later the door of the adjoining room opened noiselessly and +Tawny Hudson peered in. + +One brother was sleeping, the quiet, refreshing sleep of a mind at rest. +The other sat watching by his side with fixed inscrutable eyes. + +The latter did not stir, though in some indefinable way he made Tawny +Hudson know that he was aware of his presence, and did not desire his +closer proximity. Obedient to the unspoken command, the man did not come +beyond the threshold; but he stood there for many seconds, glowering with +the eyes of a monstrous, malignant baboon. + +When at length he retired he left the door ajar, and a very curious smile +flickered across Nap's face. + +But still he did not turn his head. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT THE GATE OF DEATH + + +The second time that Tawny Hudson was driven from his master's side was +on a day of splendid spring--English April at its best. + +Till the very last moment he lingered, and it was Lucas himself with his +final "Go, Tawny!" who sent him from the room. They would not even let +him wait, as Nap was waiting, till the anaesthetic had done its work. +Black hatred gripped the man's heart as he crept away. What was Nap +anyway that he should be thus honoured? The cloud that had attended his +coming had made a deep impression upon Hudson. He had watched the lines +upon his master's face till he knew them by heart. He knew when anxiety +kept the weary eyes from closing. He knew when the effort of the mind was +more than the body could endure. Of Lucas's pleasure at his brother's +return he raised no question, but that it would have been infinitely +better for him had Nap remained away he was firmly convinced. And he knew +with the sure intuition that unceasing vigilance had developed in him +that Capper thought the same. + +Capper resented as he did the intrusion of the black sheep of the +family. But Capper was obviously powerless--even Capper, who so +ruthlessly expelled him from his master's presence, had proved impotent +when it came to removing Nap. + +There was a mysterious force about Nap that no one seemed able to +resist. He, Hudson, had felt it a hundred times, had bowed to it in +spite of himself. He called it black magic in his own dark heart, and +because of it his hatred almost amounted to a mania. He regarded him +with superstition, as a devilish being endowed with hellish powers that +might at any moment be directed against his enemies. And he feared his +influence over Lucas, even though with all his monstrous imaginings he +recognised the fact of Lucas's ascendency. He had a morbid dread lest +some day his master should be taken unawares, for in Nap's devotion he +placed not a particle of faith. And mingled with his fears was a +burning jealousy that kept hatred perpetually alive. There was not one +of the duties that he performed for his master that Nap had not at one +time or another performed, more swiftly, more satisfactorily, with that +devilish deftness of his that even Capper had to admire and Hudson +could never hope to achieve. And in his inner soul the man knew that +the master he idolised preferred Nap's ministrations, Nap's sure and +dexterous touch, to his. + +And so on that day of riotous spring he waited with murder in his heart +to see his enemy emerge from the closed room. + +But he waited in vain. No hand touched the door against which he stood. +Within the room he heard only vague movements, and now and then Capper's +voice, sharp and distinct, giving a curt order. Two doctors and two +nurses were there to do his bidding, to aid him in the working of his +miracle; two doctors, two nurses, and Nap. + +Gradually as the minutes passed the truth dawned upon the great +half-breed waiting outside. Against Capper's wish, probably in defiance +of it, Nap was remaining for the operation itself. Suspicion deepened +swiftly to conviction, and a spasm of indignation akin to frenzy took +possession of the man. Doubtless Capper had remonstrated without result, +but he--he, Tawny Hudson--could compel. Fiercely he turned and pulled the +handle of the door. + +It resisted him. He had not heard the key turned upon him, yet undeniably +the door was locked. Fury entered into him. Doubtless this also was the +work of his enemy. He seized the handle, twisted, dragged, wrenched, till +it broke in his hand and he was powerless. + +No one within the room paid any attention to him. No one came to open; +and this fact served to inflame him further. For a few lurid moments +Tawny Hudson saw red. He gathered his huge bull-frame together and flung +the whole weight of it against the resisting wood. He was powerless to +force the lock, as the door opened towards him, but this fact did not +discourage him. It scarcely entered into his reckoning. He was nothing at +the moment but a savage beast beyond all reasoning and beyond control. + +The panels resisted his violent onslaught, but he was undaunted. With +scarcely a pause he drew off and prepared for another. But at the very +instant that he was about to hurl himself the second time, a voice spoke +on the other side of the door. + +"Tawny!" + +Tawny stood as if transfixed, his eyes starting, bestial foam upon his +lips. + +"Tawny!" said the voice again--the voice of his enemy, curt and +imperious. "Go and find Mr. Bertie, and tell him he is wanted." + +Through the closed door the magic reached the frenzied man. He remained +motionless for a few seconds, but the order was not repeated. At the end +of the interval the magic had done its work. He turned and slunk away. + +A minute later Bertie, very pale and stern, presented himself at the +closed door. + +"What is it, Nap?" + +Contemptuously clear came the answer. "Nothing here. Stay where you are, +that's all, and keep that all-fired fool Hudson from spoiling his +master's chances." + +Bertie turned to look at the man who had come up behind him, and in +turning saw the door-handle at his feet. + +He pointed to it. "Your doing?" + +Hudson shrank under the accusing blue eyes so like his master's. He began +to whimper like a beaten dog. + +Bertie picked up the knob. "Poor devil!" he muttered; and then aloud: +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Do you call this a man's game?" + +Tawny cringed in abject misery. He was completely subdued. With the +smallest encouragement he would have grovelled at Bertie's feet. + +Bertie came away from the door and sat down. His own anxiety was almost +insupportable, but he cloaked it with determined resolution. "Sit down +there!" he said, pointing to a distant chair. "And don't move until I +give you leave." + +Meekly the man obeyed him, sitting crouched, his head between his hands. + +Bertie regarded him with a severity more assumed than actual. He had not +the heart to send him away. He knew it would have been sheer cruelty. + +A long time passed. Neither of the two watchers stirred. Tawny Hudson did +not even seem to breathe. He sat like a human image of despair. + +Noon came and passed. Somewhere in the distance church bells began to +peal. Bertie started a little. He had forgotten it was Sunday. Dot would +be just driving home from church. She would not come to Baronmead, he +knew. It had been her original intention, but he had dissuaded her. He +knew that she was very anxious, but he would not have her run the risk of +a shock. If the operation failed, if Luke were to die, he would tell her +himself. He knew that he could soften the blow as none other could. + +It was nearly one when at last the closed door opened. Bertie was on his +feet in an instant. Dr. Randal came quietly out, glanced round, stopped. + +"It is over. We have taken him into the inner room, and he is recovering +consciousness. No, don't go to him. His man mustn't go either. We want +all these doors open, wide open, the windows too. But no one is to go +near. He must have absolute quiet." + +He propped open the door as he spoke. His face was very grave. + +"Remember," he said, "that the banging of this door or any sudden sound +may mean the end." + +"Is he so bad then?" said Bertie, speaking with effort. + +"He is very bad indeed," the doctor answered. "The operation has been a +protracted one. If he lives, it will be a success. But there is great +weakness of the heart's action. Any moment may be the last. Dr. Capper +will not leave him at present. Your brother is there too." He paused a +moment. "Your brother is a wonderful man," he said, with the air of a man +bestowing praise against his will. "If you will be good enough to order +some refreshment I will take it in. On no account is Mr. Errol's servant +to go near." + +Slowly the hours of a day that seemed endless dragged away. Bertie went +home to his wife in the afternoon, taking Tawny Hudson, subdued and +wretched, with him. + +In the evening he returned, the man still following him like a pariah +dog, to find the situation unaltered. Capper and Nap were still with +Lucas, whose life hung by a thread. + +Bertie decided to remain for the night, and at a late hour he saw Capper +for a moment. The great man's face was drawn and haggard. + +"He won't last through the night," he said. "Tell the ladies to be in +readiness. I will send for them if there is time." + +"No hope whatever?" said Bertie. + +Capper shook his head. "I fear--none. He is just running down--sinking. I +think you had better not come in, but stay within call." + +He was gone again, and Bertie was left to give his message, and then to +wait in anguish of spirit for the final call. + +The night was still. Only the draught from the wide-flung doors and +windows stirred through the quiet rooms. Mrs. Errol and Anne shared +Bertie's vigil in the room that opened out of that in which Lucas Errol +was making his last stand. Humbly, in a corner, huddled Tawny Hudson, +rocking himself, but making no sound. + +Within the room Capper sat at the foot of the bed, motionless, alert as +a sentry. A nurse stood like a statue, holding back the bellying +window-curtain. And on his knees beside the bed, the inert wrists gripped +close in his sinewy fingers, was Nap. + +The light of a shaded lamp shone upon his dusky face, showing the gleam +of his watchful eyes, the crude lines of jaw and cheek-bone. He looked +like a figure carved in bronze. + +For hours he had knelt so in unceasing vigilance, gazing unblinking +and tireless at the exhausted face upon the pillow. It might have been +the face of a dead man upon which he gazed, but the pulses that +fluttered in his hold told him otherwise. Lucas still held feebly, +feebly, to his chain. + +It was nearly an hour after midnight that a voice spoke in the +utter silence. + +"Boney!" + +"I'm here, old chap." + +"Good-bye, dear fellow!" It was scarcely more than a whisper. It seemed +to come from closed lips. + +"Open your eyes," said Nap. + +Slowly the heavy lids opened. The blue eyes met the deep, mysterious gaze +focussed upon them. + +Silent as a ghost Capper glided forward. The nurse left the window, and +the curtain floated out into the room, fluttering like an imprisoned +thing seeking to escape. + +"Ah, but, Boney--" the tired voice said, as though in protest. + +And Nap's voice, thrilled through and through with a tenderness that was +more than human, made answer. "Just a little longer, dear old man! Only a +little longer! See! I'm holding you up. Turn up the lamp, doctor. Take +off the shade. He can't see me. There, old chap! Look at me now. Grip +hold of me. You can't go yet. I'm with you. I'm holding you back." + +Capper trickled something out of a spoon between the pale lips, and for a +little there was silence. + +But the blue eyes remained wide, fixed upon those other fiery eyes that +held them by some mysterious magic from falling into sightlessness. + +Three figures had come in through the open door, moving wraith-like, +silently. The room seemed full of shadows. + +After a while Lucas spoke again, and this time his lips moved +perceptibly. "It's such a long way back, Boney,--no end of a trail--and +all up hill." + +The flare of the lamp was full upon Nap's face; it threw the harsh lines +into strong relief, and it seemed to Anne, watching, that she looked upon +the face of a man in extremity. His voice too--was that Nap's voice +pleading so desperately? + +"Don't be faint-hearted, old chap! I'll haul you up. It won't be so tough +presently. You're through the worst already. Hold on, Luke, hold on!" + +Again Capper poured something between the parted lips, and a quiver ran +through the powerless body. + +"Hold on!" Nap repeated. "You promised you would. You mustn't go yet, old +boy. You can't be spared. I shall go to the devil without you." + +"Not you, Boney!" Lucas's lips quivered into a smile. "That's all over," +he said. "You're playing--the straight game--now." + +"You must stay and see it through," said Nap. "I can't win out +without you." + +"Ah!" A long sigh came pantingly with the word. "That so, Boney? Guess +I'm--a selfish brute--always was--always was." + +A choked sob came through the stillness. Bertie suddenly covered his +face. Mrs. Errol put her arm round him as one who comforted a child. + +"Is that--someone--crying?" gasped Lucas. + +"It's that ass Bertie," answered Nap, without stirring so much as +an eyelid. + +"Bertie? Poor old chap! Tell him he mustn't. Tell him--I'll hang on--a +little longer--God willing; but only a little longer, Boney, only--a +little--longer." + +There was pleading in the voice, the pleading of a man unutterably tired +and longing to be at rest. + +Anne, standing apart, was cut to the heart with the pathos of it. But Nap +did not seem to feel it. He knelt on, inflexible, determined, all his +iron will, all his fiery vitality, concentrated upon holding a man in +life. It was not all magnetism, it was not all strength of purpose, it +was his whole being grappling, striving, compelling, till inch by inch he +gained a desperate victory. + +In the morning the fight was over. In the morning Lucas Errol had turned, +reluctantly as it seemed to Anne, from the Gate of Death. + +And while he lay sleeping quietly, the spring air, pure and life-giving, +blowing across his face, the man who had brought him back rose up from +his bedside, crept with a noiseless, swaying motion from the room, and +sank senseless on the further side of the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE KING'S DECREE + + +For three weeks after the operation Capper said nothing good or bad of +his patient's condition, and during those weeks he scarcely went beyond +the terrace. He moved about like a man absorbed, and it seemed to Anne +whenever they met that he looked at her without seeing her. + +Nap was even closer in his attendance, and Tawny Hudson found himself +more than ever supplanted and ignored. For night and day he was at hand, +sleeping when and how he could, always alert at the briefest notice, +always ready with unfailing nerve and steady hand. + +And Capper suffered him without the smallest remonstrance. He seemed to +take it for granted that Nap's powers were illimitable. + +"That young man will kill himself," Dr. Randal said once. "He is living +at perpetual high pressure." + +"Leave him alone," growled Capper. "He is the force that drives the +engine. The wheels won't go round without him." + +And this seemed true; for the wheels went round very, very slowly in +those days. Lucas Errol came back to life, urged by a vitality not his +own, and the Shadow of Death still lingered in his eyes. + +He did not suffer very greatly, and he slept as he had not slept for +years, but his progress was slow, sometimes imperceptible. The languor of +intense weakness hung like a leaden weight upon him. The old brave +cheeriness had given place to a certain curious wistfulness. He seemed +too weary for effort, content at all times to sleep the hours away. + +Yet when Capper demanded effort he yielded without protest. He did his +best, and he smiled at each evidence of returning powers. + +"I guess it's just an almighty success, doctor," he would say. "And +you've given me sleep into the bargain. It's blessed to be able to sleep. +I've a good many years of arrears to make up." + +On the day that Capper and Nap set him on his feet for the first time, +his weakness was such that he fainted; but he recovered and apologised, +and would even have faced the ordeal again had Capper permitted it. On +the following day he went through it without a tremor, and slept +thereafter for hours, scarcely rousing himself for nourishment. + +It was during that sleep that Nap left him, went out into the spring +woods, and remained absent for some time. Lucas was still sleeping when +he returned, and after a brief look at him he moved away into the +adjoining room and prowled to and fro there waiting. + +At the first sound of his brother's voice he was back by the bedside. + +Lucas smiled a welcome. "I'm better," he said, and held up a weak hand. + +It was the first time he had made the assertion. Nap took the hand and +laid it gently down. + +"You'll get well now," he said. + +The heavy drowsiness was less apparent than usual on Lucas's face. "I +don't know where I'd be without you, Boney," he said. "Do you know you're +looking awfully ill?" + +"Shucks!" said Nap. + +But Lucas continued his criticism undeterred. + +"You've spent too much of yourself on me, and I've been too damned +selfish to notice. I'm going to wake up now, Boney. I'm going to play the +game. You've been playing my hand as well as your own till now. I'm going +to relieve you of that." + +"Hear, hear!" said Nap. + +"You'll go to bed in your own room to-night," said Lucas, "go to bed and +to sleep. In the morning we'll have a talk." + +But when the morning came, his energy had flagged a little. He had not +slept as well as usual, and though he had no pain he seemed disinclined +for physical effort. + +"I want a holiday to-day," he said to Capper. "Just let in the sunshine +and leave me to bask." + +There had been a spell of cold and sunless weather, but that day the sun +shone gloriously. The genial warmth of it came in through the open +window and flooded the room with the very essence of spring. + +"I'm going to take a day off and enjoy it," smiled Lucas. "You take a day +off too, doctor. Make the mater go out in the car. I shall do wonders +to-morrow after a good laze to-day." + +Capper looked him over keenly, pulled his beard, cracked his fingers, and +yielded. "Guess a rest won't do you any harm. There's no reason to hustle +you any that I can see." + +And Lucas spent the whole morning basking in the sunshine in almost +unbroken silence. He did not sleep at all. His eyes, remote and +thoughtful, were for the most part watching the specks that danced and +floated in the rays of light that streamed across his bed. + +Nap forebore to disturb him, but he remained within call. He knew with +sure intuition that sooner or later Lucas would summon him. Almost he +knew what he would say. + +The call came at last, very quiet and deliberate. "Boney!" + +Instantly Nap presented himself. + +"Come here a minute, old chap. No, I'm not wanting anything--only a word +in private. Say, Boney, is Anne still stopping here?" + +He had seen her nearly every day since the operation, but he had been too +drowsy to ask any questions. He had only smiled upon her, and sometimes +for a little had held her hand. + +"She is backwards and forwards," said Nap. "I believe she is spending +to-night." + +"Ah! Then, Boney, I want you to speak to her--to-night." He looked up at +his brother with his old, kindly smile. "It's for my own sake, old chap," +he said. "You know, I didn't sleep last night. I was thinking about +her--about you both. And I want her to know everything to-night. I shall +sleep the easier when she knows." + +Nap stood silent. His face was set in hard lines. + +"Will you tell her, Boney?" + +"What am I to tell her?" said Nap, + +"Tell her the truth, dear fellow, so that she understands it. Make her +realise that the dearest wish of my life is her happiness--and yours." He +reached up a hand to the motionless figure beside him. "Just this one +thing, Boney," he pleaded gently. "Remember--I came back because of it. +It will be my happiness too. I want to feel that all is well between you. +God knows I want it more than anything else on earth." + +Nap gripped the proffered hand and held it fast. + +"But she won't have me, you know," he said, after a moment. "She only +forgave me because of you." + +"Shucks, dear fellow! I guess that wasn't the reason." + +"I wish to heaven you'd let me off," Nap said, with sudden +vehemence. "Let me shunt first instead of last. It's more than I +can face--even for you." + +"But I guess you'll face it all the same," said Lucas gently. "And when +it's over, come--both of you--and tell me." + +He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sunshine. "So long, old +chap!" he said. "Don't stay indoors. I'm not wanting you. Think I'll get +to sleep presently. Don't let them wake me if I do." + +But Nap lingered, still holding his hand. "Luke!" he said. + +There was a note of entreaty in his voice, but, for the second time in +his life, Lucas turned a deaf ear. The smile was still on his lips, but +his eyes remained closed. + +"Go, dear fellow!" he said softly. "And God bless you!" + +And Nap turned with a set face and went straight from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE STRAIGHT GAME + + +It was drawing towards evening on that same day when Anne, who had been +spending the afternoon at the Dower House, walked back across the park. +She went by way of the stream along which she and Nap had once skated +hand in hand in the moonlight, and as she went she stooped now and then +to gather the flowers that grew in the grass beside her path. But her +face as she did it was grave and thoughtful. She did not seem to notice +their fragrance. + +As she neared the lake she moved more slowly, and reaching a rustic seat +beneath a cedar that shadowed the entrance to the gardens she sat down, +her grey eyes fixed upon the water that gurgled at her feet. + +A brilliant green dragon-fly, darting meteor-like across her vision, came +presently to disturb her reverie. With a slight start she awoke, and +leaned forward with an odd eagerness to mark its progress. As it flashed +away through the shadows a quick sigh came to her lips. It was so fair a +thing, so swiftly gone. + +She gathered up her flowers and rose. And in that moment she knew that +she was not alone. + +How she knew it she could not have said. No sound or shadow told her. No +hand touched her. Yet she knew. + +For a few seconds she stood motionless on the edge of the stream. Then +without turning she spoke. + +"Were you looking for me?" + +"Yes," he said. + +He came to her side. They were close--close to that spot where once he +had so arrogantly claimed her friendship. To-day it seemed he had no +word to utter. + +For a space she waited, then, finding in his silence something that +disquieted her, she spoke again. + +"Is all well? Why are you not with Lucas?" + +"All's well," he said, but he left her second question unanswered. He was +gazing down intently into the clear water. + +Seconds passed. She glanced at him once or twice, but he seemed unaware +of her scrutiny. He made no movement to meet it. His dark face brooded +over the stream, almost as if she were not there. + +Her heart began to throb with thick, uneven strokes. What had he come to +say to her? And why did he stand thus silent? There was something tragic +about him, something almost terrible. + +She waited beside him in wordless foreboding. Whatever was coming she +felt powerless to avert. She could only brace herself to meet the +inevitable. + +In some fashion, though he never glanced her way, he must have been aware +of her agitation, for when he spoke again there was some measure of +reassurance in his voice, emotionless though it was. + +"I shan't alarm you," he said. "I shan't even ask you to answer me, much +less to treat me kindly. But you've got to hear me, that's all. I'm not +telling you for my own sake, only because Luke has ordained that you must +know. I daresay you thought it strange that I should have come back so +soon. It probably made you wonder." + +"It did," said Anne, in a low voice. + +"I knew it would." A note of grim satisfaction sounded in the rejoinder. +He jerked his head a little with a touch of the old arrogance. "Well, I +am here to explain. I knew the odds were dead against me when I +started--as they are to-day. All the same you are to understand that I +came back when I did because I had just heard that you were free and I +was mad enough to dream that in spite of everything I should one day +persuade you to marry me." + +He paused an instant, but he kept his eyes upon the water as if he were +reading something in the crystal depths. + +Anne still waited beside him, her hands clasped tightly upon her +drooping flowers. + +He continued very rapidly, as though he wished to have done. "That was +my true reason for coming back. I don't know if I deceived you any on +that point. I tried to. But anyway I didn't manage to deceive Lucas. He +sees most things. He knows for instance that I--care for you"--almost +angrily he flung the words--"and he thinks you ought to know it, in +case"--his lips twisted into a queer smile--"you care for me. It's a +preposterous idea anyway. I've told him so. But he won't be easy till +I've given you the chance to trample on me. Guess he thinks I owe you +that. Maybe I do. Well--you have your opportunity." + +"Do you think I want--that?" Anne said, her voice very low. + +His hands clenched. "I can't say," he said. "Most women would. But--if +you want to know--I'd sooner be trampled. I've promised I'll play the +straight game, and I'm playing it. I'm telling you the raw truth. I love +you. I have it in me to make you know it. But--" + +"But you love Lucas better" she said. + +He nodded. "Just that. Also, Lucas is a good man. He will set your +happiness first all his life. While I--while I"--he stooped a little, +still staring downwards as if he watched something--"while I, Lady +Carfax," he said, speaking very quietly, "might possibly succeed in +making you happy, but it wouldn't be the same thing. You would have to +live my life--not I yours. I am not like Lucas. I shouldn't be satisfied +with--a little." + +"And you think that is all I can offer him?" she said. + +He made a sharp gesture of repudiation. "I have no theories on that +subject. I believe you would satisfy him. I believe--ultimately--you +would both find the happiness we are all hunting for." + +"And you?" Anne said, her voice very low. + +He straightened himself with a backward fling of the shoulders, but still +he did not look at her. "I, Lady Carfax!" he said grimly. "I don't fit +into the scheme of things anyway. I was just pitchforked into your life +by an accident. It's for you to toss me out again." + +Anne was silent. She stood with her face to the sinking sun. She seemed +to be gathering her strength. + +At last, "What will you do?" she asked in the same hushed voice. "Where +will you go?" + +He turned slowly towards her. "I really don't know. I haven't begun +to think." + +His eyes looked deeply into hers, but they held no passion, no emotion of +any sort. They made her think with a sudden intolerable stab of pain of +that night when he had put out the fire of his passion to receive her +kiss. He had told her once that that kiss was the greatest thing that had +ever happened to him. Did he remember it now, she wondered, as she met +those brooding eyes, still and dark and lonely as they had been then, +unfathomable as a mountain pool. She did not fear to meet them. Only a +vast, surging pity filled her soul. She understood him so well--so well. + +"Nap," she said tremulously, "what can I say to you? What can I do?" + +He put out a quiet, unfaltering hand and took hers. "Don't be too good to +me," he said. "Don't worry any on my account. If you do, maybe Luke will +notice and misunderstand. He's so damnably shrewd." A brief smile crossed +his face. "I'll tell you what to do, Lady Carfax, and when it's done +you'll feel better. Come with me now to Lucas--it's his own idea--and +tell him you've no use for me. Put it how you like. Women can always do +these things. Make him know that he comes first with you still and always +will. Tell him you know all the truth and it hasn't made you change your +mind. Tell him you'd rather belong to a man you can trust. He'll believe +you, Anne. We all do." + +He spoke insistently. He had begun to draw her towards the path. But as +they reached it, his hand fell from hers. He walked beside her, close +beside her, but not by word or touch did he seek further to persuade her. + +And Anne walked steadily forward as one in a dream. It was the only thing +to do, since he had told her plainly that he desired it, since with both +of them Luke must for ever come first. He had drawn them together, he had +linked their hands, but he stood between them to do it, and neither of +them would suffer him to go. + +She supposed they would be friends again, she and Nap. She did not fear +that he would ever again cross the boundary line. His love for his +brother ran like a purifying current through his veins. It was the one +streak of greatness in him. Its very selflessness made it stronger than +his love for her. She knew with a certainty that nought could ever shake +that he would be true to Lucas, that never again by word or sign would he +betray that for which he had not scrupled to play her false. + +And because she was a woman and understood him she forgave him this. For +she knew that the greater loyalty had done for him that which she had +failed to do. She knew that in uttermost self-sacrifice Nap Errol, the +savage, the merciless, the treacherous, had found his soul. + +So side by side in silence they went back to the house. + +The evening was very still; passing in from the terrace they seemed to +enter an enchanted palace wherein nothing stirred. + +"He may be asleep," Nap said. "Shall I go first?" + +She assented without speaking. Somehow the spell of silence seemed to +hold her also. + +Tawny Hudson was on guard as usual in the outer room. He looked up with +resentful eyes as they entered, but he said nothing. The door into his +master's room stood half open. Nap paused at it a moment to listen. He +turned to Anne, and she fancied just for a second that there was a +shade of anxiety on his face. But it was gone instantly, if indeed it +had been there. + +"Follow me in a minute," he said, "if I don't come back." + +And with that he glided through the narrow space and passed from sight. + +A minute later, absolute silence reigning, Anne softly pushed back the +door and entered. + +She found Nap crouched motionless with outflung arms across the foot +of the bed. + +And drawing nearer, she saw that Lucas Errol was lying asleep with his +face to the sky, all the lines of pain smoothed utterly away, and on his +lips that smile which some call the Stamp of Death, and others the +shining reflection of the Resurrection Glory which the passing soul has +left behind. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE TRANSFORMING MAGIC + + +No clamour of mourning broke the spell of silence that lay upon +Baronmead. Those who wept hid their grief behind closed doors. But those +to whom Lucas was dearest shed the fewest tears. His mother went about +with a calmness of aspect that never faltered. She and Anne were very +close to each other in those days though but few words passed between +them. A hush that was like a benediction brooded upon the silent house. +They could not weep. + +Once, standing in the hallowed stillness beside her dead, Mrs. Errol +turned to Anne, saying softly: "The dear Lord knows best, dear. We +wouldn't call him back. He wouldn't want to come." + +And later she told her gently that she had known ever since the operation +that the end was near. + +"It was in his eyes," she said. "I know that look so well. Dr. Capper +knew it too. And so, I'm sure, did the dear boy himself. That waiting, +far-off look as if the soul were listening, didn't you see it, dear? I +only wondered that he stayed so long." + +Yes, Anne had seen it. She knew it now. Though he had smiled upon her, +though he had held her hand, she knew that all human longing had died in +Lucas Errol's soul on the night that he had gone down to the Gate of +Death and Nap had drawn him back. He had slackened his hold upon things +earthly that night, and though he had come back a little way, it had been +as a spectator only that he lingered, no more as one who took an active +part in the drama of mortal life. His _rôle_ was played; she realised now +that he must have known it, and that he had not wished it otherwise. He +had not died with that kingly smile upon his lips if he had not been +content to die. That was why grief seemed to her impossible. That was why +the peace in which he lay, wrapped tenderly around her tired heart also +and gave her rest. + +Of Nap during those days of silence she saw nothing whatever. He had +risen from his brother's death-bed with a face of stony aloofness, and +had gone swiftly out, she knew not whither. Since that moment she had +scarcely seen him. He spent his time out of the house, somewhere away in +the woods she believed, out of reach of any human observation, not even +returning at night. Once only in the early morning she saw him cross the +stretch of lawn in front of the lake and enter by a side door. But her +glimpse of him was of the briefest. She did not see his face. + +Upon Bertie devolved all the duties of the head of the household, but +his mother was ready at every turn to help him. She was more to him +during those few days than she had ever been before. Capper also, +remaining for the funeral, placed himself at his disposal and did much to +lighten the burden. + +Capper indeed helped everyone, and Anne always remembered with gratitude +a few moments that she had alone with him on the evening before the +funeral, when he laid a fatherly hand upon her shoulder to say: "My dear, +I don't know if you're fretting any, but you've no cause to fret. I know +now that it couldn't have been otherwise. If you'd been his wife you +couldn't have kept him." + +She thanked him with a look. She believed that Capper understood, and she +was glad that it should be so. She fancied also that his opinion +regarding Nap had undergone a change, but she hesitated to touch upon the +subject, and the moment passed. + +Up to the last minute she was doubtful as to whether Nap would attend his +brother's funeral. She herself went because Mrs. Errol desired to go. She +walked with Capper immediately behind Bertie and his mother. Neither of +them seemed to expect Nap, or even to think of him. His movements were +always sudden and generally unaccountable. But she knew that his absence +would cause comment in the neighbourhood, and though she also knew that +Nap would care nothing for that, she earnestly hoped that he would not +give occasion for it. + +Nevertheless the procession started without him, and she had almost +ceased to hope when he suddenly appeared from nowhere as it seemed to +her, and walked on her other side. + +She heard Capper give a grunt, whether of approval or otherwise she did +not know, but not a word was said. She glanced once at Nap, but his face +was sphinx-like, utterly unresponsive. He stared straight ahead, with +eyes that never varied, at the coffin that was being borne upon men's +shoulders to its quiet resting-place in the village churchyard, and +throughout the journey thither his expression remained unaltered. + +At the gate Bertie suddenly turned and motioned him forward, and they +entered the church together. Later, by the open grave, Anne saw that +Bertie was leaning on Nap's shoulder, while his mother stood apart with +her face to the sky; and she knew that the feud between them had been +laid at last and for ever by the man who had ruled supreme in the hearts +of all who knew him. + +When all was over, Nap disappeared, and she saw no more of him till the +evening when for the first time he came to the dinner-table. Capper was +leaving early on the following day, and it was to this fact that Anne +attributed his appearance. + +Bertie dined at home, but he walked over later to take leave of Capper. +They sat together in the hall, with the door wide open, for the night +was as warm as summer. + +Mrs. Errol had gone to her room immediately after dinner, but Anne +remained at Capper's request. + +"I shan't see much more of you," he said. + +They talked but little however. Nap sat smoking in a corner and hardly +opened his lips. Bertie came in late, looking worn and miserable. + +"I wish you would tell me what to do with Tawny Hudson," he said. "I +believe the fellow's crazy; and he's pining too. I don't believe he has +eaten anything for days." + +Since Lucas's death Tawny Hudson had attached himself to Bertie, +following him to and fro like a lost dog, somewhat to Dot's dismay; for, +deeply though she pitied the great half-breed, there was something about +him that frightened her. + +"I don't know what to do with him," Bertie said. "He's as gaunt as a +wolf. He's hanging about somewhere outside now. Wish you'd take him along +to America with you, Doctor." + +"Call him in," said Capper, "and let me have a look at him." + +Bertie went to the door and whistled. + +There was no reply. + +"Hudson!" he called. "Tawny! where are you?" + +But there came no answer out of the shadows. The only voice which Tawny +would obey was still. + +Bertie came back baffled. "Confound the fellow! I know he's +within hail." + +"Leave the brute alone!" said Nap. "He isn't worth much anyway." + +"But I can't let him die," said Bertie. + +Nap looked contemptuous, and relapsed into silence. + +"I'll take him back with me if you're wanting to be rid of him," said +Capper. "Tell him so if you get the chance." + +"Thanks!" said Bertie. "But I don't believe he'll budge. Nap will be +crossing next week. P'r'aps I shall persuade him to go then." He looked +across at Nap. "I know you don't like the fellow, but it wouldn't be +for long." + +"Probably not," said Nap, staring fixedly at the end of his cigar. + +Something in his tone made Anne glance at him, but as usual his face told +her nothing. She saw only that his eyes were drawn as if with long +watching, and that the cynical lines about his mouth were more grimly +pronounced than she had ever seen them before. + +Not long after, Bertie got up to go. His farewell to Capper was spoken +almost in a whisper, and Anne saw that his self-control was precarious. +When he shook hands with her he was beyond speech. She was glad to see +Nap rise and accompany him, with a friendly hand pushed through his arm. + +For nearly half an hour longer she sat on with Capper; then at length +she rose to go. + +"I shall see you in the morning," she said, pausing. + +"I am making an early start," said Capper. + +She smiled. "I shall see you all the same. Good-night." + +Capper kept her hand in his, his green eyes running over her with elusive +intentness. "Wonder what you'll do," he said abruptly. + +She met his look quite simply. "For the present," she said, "I must be +with Mrs. Errol. Later on--next month--she will no doubt go to the Dower +House, and I shall go back to the Manor." + +"Don't mope!" he said. + +She smiled again with a short sigh. "I shall be too busy for that." + +"That so?" Capper drew his brows together. "Lady Carfax, at risk of +offending you, I've something to say." + +"You will not offend me," she answered. "And I think I know what it is." + +"Very possibly you do, but I guess I'd better say it all the same. You +may remember a talk we had at the commencement of our acquaintance, +regarding Nap. I told you he was just a wild animal, untamable, +untrustworthy. Well, you have proved me wrong. You have worked a +miracle, and you have tamed him. Lucas himself told me about it the day +before he died." + +"Oh, no!" Anne said quickly and earnestly. "It was Lucas who worked the +miracle, Doctor. The magic was his." + +"Guess he wouldn't have done it single-handed," said Capper. "He'd +been trying as long as I had known him, and he hadn't succeeded." He +paused, looking at her with great kindness. Then: "My dear," he said, +"you needn't be afraid to trust yourself to him. He will never let you +down again." + +Anne stood silent, but under his look a deep flush rose and overspread +her face. She turned her eyes away. + +Very gently Capper patted her shoulder. "You've made a man of him between +you," he said. "Lucas has left the developing process to you." + +"Ah!" she said wistfully, and that was all, for her eyes were suddenly +full of tears. + +She went to the door and stood there for several seconds. The voice of a +nightingale thrilled through the silence. Was it only a year--only a +year--since the veil had been rent from her eyes? Only a year since first +her heart had throbbed to "the everlasting Wonder Song"? She felt as if +eons had passed over her, as if the solitude of ages wrapped her round; +and yet afar off, like dream music in her soul, she still heard its +echoes pulsing across the desert. It held her like a charm. + +Slowly her tears passed. There came again to her that curious sense of +something drawing her, almost as of a voice that called. The garden lay +still and mysterious in the moonlight. She caught its gleam upon a +corner of the lake where it shone like a wedge of silver. + +A few seconds she stood irresolute; then without word or backward glance +she stepped down into the magic silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LAST ORDEAL + + +What impulse she obeyed she knew not; only she wanted to hear the +nightingale, to drink in the fragrance, to feel the healing balm upon her +heart. Her feet carried her noiselessly over the grass to that shining +splendour of water, and turned along the path that led past the seat +under the cedar where Nap had joined her on that evening that seemed +already far away, and had told her that he loved her still. By this path +he and Bertie would have gone to the Dower House; by this path he would +probably return alone. + +Her heart quickened a little as she passed into the deep shadow. She was +not nervous as a rule, but there was something mysterious about the +place, something vaguely disquieting. The gurgle of the stream that fed +the lake sounded curiously remote. + +She turned towards the rustic seat on which she had rested that day, and +on the instant her pulses leapt to sudden alarm. There was a stealthy +movement in front of her; a crouching object that looked monstrous in the +gloom detached itself from the shadow and began to move away. For a +moment she thought it was some animal; then there came to her the +unmistakable though muffled tread of human feet, and swift as an arrow +comprehension pierced her. The thing in front of her was Tawny Hudson. + +But why was he skulking there? Why did he seek thus to avoid her? What +was the man doing? The agitated questions raced through her brain at +lightning speed, and after them came a horrible, a sickening suspicion. + +Whence it arose she could not have said, but the memory of Nap's face +only half an hour before, when Tawny Hudson had been under discussion, +arose in her mind and confirmed it almost before she knew that it was +there. She had often suspected the half-breed of harbouring a dislike for +Nap. More often still she had noted Nap's complete and perfectly obvious +contempt for him. He had tolerated him, no more, for Lucas's sake. Was it +not highly probable that now that the restraining influence was gone the +man's animosity had flamed to hatred? And if he were really crazy, as +Bertie believed, to what lengths might he not carry it? + +Fear stabbed her, fear that was anguish. At any moment now Nap might be +returning, and if Tawny were indeed lying in wait for him-- + +She traversed the deep shadow cast by the cedar and looked forth into the +park beyond. The man had disappeared. He must have doubled back among +the trees of the shrubbery; and she knew he must be crouching somewhere +in concealment not far away, for all sound of footsteps had ceased. Did +he fancy she had not seen him, she wondered? Was he hoping that she would +turn and go back by the way she had come, leaving him free to accomplish +his purpose, whatever it might be? + +And then her heart suddenly stood still, for away in the distance, +walking with his light, swinging gait over the moonlit sward, she saw +Nap. + +In that moment her fear took definite and tangible form, and a horror of +the thing that lurked in the shadows behind her seized her, goading her +to action. She passed out into the quiet moonlight and moved to meet him. + +Her impulse was to run, but she restrained it, dreading lest she might +precipitate the disaster she feared. Hudson must not suspect her +intention, must not know of the panic at her heart. + +Nap did not see her at once. The background of trees obscured her. But +as she drew away from them he caught sight of her, and instantly +quickened his pace. + +They met scarcely fifty yards from the cedar, and breathlessly Anne +spoke. "Turn back with me a little way. I have something to say to you." + +He wheeled at once, with no show of surprise. Though he must have seen +her agitation he did not ask its cause. + +They walked several paces before Anne spoke again. "You will think me +very strange, but I have had a fright. I--I want you, Nap, to--to +understand and not think me foolish or laugh at me." + +"I couldn't do either if I tried," said Nap. "Who has been frightening +you? Tawny Hudson?" + +"Yes, Tawny Hudson." Anne was still breathless; she glanced nervously +over her shoulder. "Shall we walk a little faster? He--he is lurking in +those trees, and do you know I don't think he is safe? I think--I can't +help thinking--that he is lying in wait for you to--to do you a +mischief." + +Nap stopped dead. "That so? Then I reckon I will go and deal with +him at once." + +"Oh, no!" she gasped. "No! Nap, are you mad?" + +He gave her a queer look. "By no means, Lady Carfax, though I believe I +should be if I went any farther with you. You stay here while I go and +investigate." + +He would have left her with the words, but on the instant desperation +seized Anne. Her strained nerves would not bear this. She caught his arm, +holding him fast. + +"You must not! You shall not! Or if you do I am coming with you. You--you +are not going alone." + +"I am going alone," Nap said; but he stood still, facing her, watching +her as he had watched her on that day long ago when he had lain helpless +in her arms in the snow, the day that revelation had first come to her +shrinking heart. "I am going alone," he repeated very deliberately. "And +you will wait here till I come back." + +She felt that he was putting forth his strength to compel her, and +something within her warned her that he was stronger in that moment than +she. She did not understand his ascendency over her, but she could not +help being aware of it. Her agitated hold upon his arm began to slacken. + +"Oh, don't go!" she entreated weakly. "Please don't go! I can't bear +it. It--it's too much. Nap, if--if any harm comes to you, I--I think it +will kill me." + +There came a sudden gleam in his sombre eyes that seemed to stab her, but +it was gone instantly, before he spoke in answer. + +"Lady Carfax, you are not foolish--you are sublime! But--be wise as +well." Very quietly he extricated his arm from her clinging hands and +turned to go. "Don't watch me," he said. "Go on to the bridge and wait +for me there." + +He was gone. Blindly she obeyed him; blindly she moved towards the bridge +that spanned the stream. She was trembling so much that she could hardly +walk, but almost mechanically she urged herself on. No other course was +open to her. + +She reached the bridge, and leaned upon the handrail. She thought the +beating of her heart would suffocate her. She strained her ears to +listen, but she could hear nought else; and for a time she actually +lacked the physical strength to turn and look. + +At last, after the passage of many minutes, she summoned her sinking +courage. Faint and dizzy still, she managed to raise her head. The +moonlight danced in her eyes, but with immense effort she compelled +herself to look back. + +The next instant utter amazement seized and possessed her, dominating her +fear. Nap was standing just beyond the outspreading boughs of the cedar, +a straight relentless figure, with the arrogance of complete mastery in +every line, while at his feet grovelled and whimpered the great +half-breed, Tawny Hudson. + +Nap was speaking. She could not hear what he said, but spell-bound she +watched, while a curious sensation of awe tingled through her. The man +was so superbly self-confident. + +Suddenly she saw him stoop and take something from his prostrate enemy. A +sharp doubt assailed her. She saw the wretched Tawny cringe lower and +cover his face. She saw the moonlight glint upon the thing in Nap's hand. + +He seemed to be considering it, for he turned it this way and that, +making it flash and flash again. And then abruptly, with a swift turn of +the wrist, he spun it high into the air. It made a shining curve, and +fell with a splash into the stream. She saw the widening ripples from +where she stood. + +But she did not stay to watch them. Her attention was focussed upon the +scene that was being enacted before her. + +It was very nearly over. Tawny Hudson had lifted his head, and she saw +submission the most abject on his upraised face. He seemed to be pleading +for something, and after a moment, with the faintest shrug of the +shoulders, Nap lifted one hand and made a curious gesture above him. The +next instant he turned upon his heel and came towards her, while Tawny +Hudson got up and slunk away into the shadows. + +Anne awaited him, standing quite motionless. She knew now what had +happened. He had grappled with the man's will just as once he had +grappled with hers. And he had conquered. She expected him to +approach her with the royal swagger of victory, and involuntarily she +shrank, dreading to encounter him in that mood, painfully aware of +her own weakness. + +He came to her; he stood before her. "Anne," he said, "forgive me!" + +She gazed at him in astonishment. "Forgive you!" she repeated. "But why?" + +"I have no right to practise the black arts in your presence," he said, +"though as a matter of fact there was no other way. I've frightened the +poor devil out of his senses. Aren't you frightened too?" + +"I don't understand," she answered rather piteously. "I am only thankful +that you are not hurt." + +"That's good of you," he said, and she heard no irony in his voice. He +leaned his arms upon the rail beside her, and stared down in silence +for several moments into the dark water. "If this had happened a +week--less than a week--ago," he said at length, speaking very quietly, +"I would have let the fellow knife me with the utmost pleasure. I should +even have been grateful to him. And"--he turned very slightly towards +her--"you would have had cause for gratitude too, for Luke would have +been with you to-day." + +She shrank a little at his words. "I don't understand," she said again. + +He stood up and faced her with abrupt resolution. "I am going to make you +understand," he said, "once and for all. It's a rather hideous recital, +but you had better hear it. I will condense it as much as possible. I've +been an evil brute all my life, but I guess you know that already. The +first time I saw you I wanted to ruin you. I never meant to fall in love +with you. I kicked against it--kicked hard. Good women always +exasperated me. But I wanted a new sensation, and, by heaven, I got it!" +He paused a moment, and she saw his grim features relax very slightly. "I +was caught in my own net," he said. "I believe there is magic in you. You +captured me anyway. I did homage to you--in spite of myself. After that +night the relish went out of everything for me. I wanted only you." + +Again he paused, but she said nothing. She was listening with her +steadfast eyes upon him. + +"But you kept me at a distance," he said, "and I couldn't help myself. +That was the maddening part of it. Lucas knew even then--or suspected. +But he didn't interfere. He saw you were taming me. And so you were--so +you were. But that thrashing upset everything. It drove me mad. I was +crazy for revenge. Lucas made me go away, but I couldn't stay. I was like +a man possessed. My hatred for your husband had swamped my love for you. +You have got to know it, Anne; I am like that. I wanted to wreak my +vengeance on him through you, because I knew--by then--that I had somehow +reached your heart. And so I came to you--I saw you--and then I couldn't +do it. Your love--I suppose I may call it that?--barred the way. It was +your safeguard. You trusted me, and for that I wanted to fall down and +worship you. But you sent me away--I had to go. You made a man of me. I +lived a clean life because of you. I was your slave. I believe I should +have remained so if your husband had died then. But the knowledge that he +was coming back to you was too much for me. I couldn't stand that. I +broke free." + +He stopped suddenly and brought his clenched fist down upon the rail as +if physical pain were a relief to his soul. + +"I needn't go into what happened then," he said. "You saw me at my worst, +and--you conquered me. You drove me out of your stronghold, and you +locked the door. I don't know even now how you did it. None but a good +woman would have dared. Do you know, when I came to my senses and knew +what I had done, knew that I'd insulted you, killed your trust--your +love, made you despise me, I nearly shot myself? It was Dot who kept me +from that. She guessed, I suppose. And I went away--I went right away +into the Rockies--and fought my devils there. I came back saner than you +have ever known me, to hear that you were free. Can you believe that I +actually told myself that you were mine--mine for the winning? I +stretched out my hands to you across half the world, and I felt as if +wherever you were I had somehow managed to reach and touch you. It was +exactly a year from the day I had first met you." + +"Ah, I remember!" Anne said, her voice quick with pain; but she did not +tell him what she remembered. + +He went on rapidly, as if she had not spoken. "And then I came to you. +And--I found--I found Luke--in possession. Well, that was the end of +everything for me. I couldn't help knowing that it was the best thing +that could possibly happen to either of you. And I--well, I was just out +of it. I would have gone again that night, but Luke wouldn't have it. He +suspected from the first, though I lied to him--I lied royally. But I +couldn't keep it up. He was too many for me. He wouldn't let me drop out, +but neither would I let him. I fought every inch. I wouldn't let him die. +I held him night and day--night and day. I knew what it meant to you +too, and I knew you would help me afterwards to drop out. My whole soul +was in it, but even so, I couldn't hold on for ever. I had to slacken at +last, and he--he slackened too. I knew it directly, felt him losing +hold. That was two days before he died. And I pulled myself together and +grabbed him again. I think he knew. He tried to wake up, said he'd get +well, made me let go of him, made me explain things to you. And +then--well, I guess he thought his part was done--so he just--let go." + +Abruptly he turned from her and leaned again upon the rail, lodging his +head on his hands. "That's all," he said. "But if Tawny had taken it into +his fool brain to make an end of me a little sooner--as I meant him to--I +know very well Luke would have hung on--somehow--for your sake. Oh, I +wish to heaven he had!" he burst out fiercely. "I'm not fit to speak to +you, not fit to touch your hand. You--you--I believe you'd be kind to me +if I would let you. But I won't--I won't! I'm going away. It rests with +me now to protect you somehow, and there is no other way." + +He ceased to speak, and in the silence she watched his bent head, greatly +wondering, deeply pitying. When he stood up again she knew that the +tumult that tore his soul had been forced down out of sight. + +"You see how it is with me, Anne," he said very sadly. "Tawny Hudson +thinks I'm a devil, and I'm not sure--even now--that he isn't right. +That's why I'm going away. I won't have you trust me, for I can't trust +myself. And you have no one to protect you from me. So you won't blame me +for going? You'll understand?" + +His words went straight to her heart. She felt the quick tears +rising, but she kept them back. She knew that he needed strength from +her just then. + +And so, after a moment, she commanded herself, and answered him. + +"I think you are quite right to go, Nap. And--yes, I understand. +Only--some day--some day--come back again!" + +He leaned towards her. His face had flashed into sudden vitality at her +words. He made a movement as if he would take her into his arms. And then +abruptly, almost with violence, he withdrew himself, and gripped his +hands together behind him. + +Standing so, with the moonlight shining on his face, he showed her that +which her heart ached to see. For though the dusky eyes were fixed and +still, unveiled but unrevealing, though the high cheek-bones and lantern +jaw were grim as beaten brass, she had a glimpse beyond of the seething, +volcanic fires she dreaded, and she knew that he had spoken the truth. It +was better for them both that he should go. + +"I will come back to you, Anne," he said, speaking very steadily. "I +will come back to you--if I find I can." + +It was final, and she knew it. She held out her hand to him in silence, +and he, stooping, pressed it dumbly against his lips. + +Thereafter they walked back to the house together, and parted +without a word. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +OUT OF THE FURNACE + + +Capper looked round with a certain keenness that was not untouched with +curiosity when Nap unexpectedly followed him to his room that night. + +"Are you wanting anything?" he demanded, with his customary directness. + +"Nothing much," Nap said. "You might give me a sleeping-draught if you're +disposed to be charitable. I seem to have lost the knack of going to +sleep. What I really came to say was that Hudson will go with you +to-morrow if you will be good enough to put up with him. He won't give +you any trouble. I would let him go with me next week if his wits would +stand the strain of travelling in my company, but I don't think they +will. I don't want to turn him into a gibbering maniac if I can help it." + +"What have you been doing to him?" said Capper. + +Nap smiled, faintly contemptous. "My dear doctor, I never do anything to +anybody. If people choose to credit me with possessing unholy powers, +you will allow that I am scarcely to be blamed if the temptation to trade +now and then upon their fertile imaginations proves too much for me." + +"I allow nothing," Capper said, "that is not strictly normal and +wholesome." + +"Then that places me on the black list at once," remarked Nap. +"Good-night!" + +"Stay a moment!" ordered Capper. "Let me look at you. If you will +promise to behave like an ordinary human being for once, I'll give you +that draught." + +"I'll promise anything you like," said Nap, a shade of weariness in his +voice. "I'm going up to town to-morrow, and I never sleep there so I +reckon this is my last chance for some time to come." + +"Are you trying to kill yourself?" asked Capper abruptly. + +But Nap only threw up his head and laughed. "If that were my object I'd +take a shorter cut than this. No, I guess I shan't die this way, Doctor. +You seem to forget the fact that I'm as tough as leather, with the +vitality of a serpent." + +"The toughest of us won't go for ever," observed Capper. "You get to bed. +I'll come to you directly." + +When he joined him again, a few minutes later, Nap was lying on his back +with arms flung wide, staring inscrutably at the ceiling. His mind seemed +to be far away, but Capper's hand upon his pulse brought it back. He +turned his head with the flicker of a smile. + +"What's that for?" + +"I happen to take an interest in you, my son," said Capper. + +"Very good of you. But why?" + +Capper was watching him keenly. "Because I have a notion that you +are wanted." + +Nap stirred restlessly, and was silent. + +"How long are you going to be away?" Capper asked. + +"I don't know." + +"For long?" + +Nap's hand jerked impatiently from the doctor's hold. "Possibly +for ever." + +Capper's long fingers began to crack. He looked speculative. "Say, Nap," +he said suddenly, "we may not be exactly sympathetic, you and I, but I +guess we've pulled together long enough to be fairly intimate. Anyway, +I've conceived a sort of respect for you that I never expected to have. +And if you'll take a word of advice from a friend who wishes you well, +you won't regret it." + +The thin lips began to smile. "Delighted to listen to your advice, +Doctor. I suspect I'm not obliged to follow it." + +"You will please yourself, no doubt," Capper rejoined drily. "But my +advice is, don't stay away too long. Your place is here." + +"You think so?" said Nap. + +"I am quite sure," Capper said, with emphasis. + +"And you think I shall please myself by going?" + +"Who else?" said Capper almost sternly. + +Nap did not instantly reply. He was lying back with his face in shadow. +When he spoke at length it was with extreme deliberation. Capper divined +that it was an effort to him to speak at all. + +"You're a family friend," he said. "I guess you've a right to know. It +isn't for my own sake I'm going at all. It's for--hers, and because of a +promise I made to Luke. If I were to stop, I'd be a cur--and worse. She'd +take me without counting the cost. She is a woman who never thinks of +herself. I've got to think for her. I've sworn to play the straight game, +and I'll play it. That's why I won't so much as look into her face again +till I know that I can be to her what Luke would have been--what Bertie +is to Dot--what every man who is a man ought to be to the woman he has +made his wife." + +He flung his arms up above his head and remained tense for several +seconds. Then abruptly he relaxed. + +"I'll be a friend to her," he said, "a friend that she can +trust--or nothing!" + +There came a very kindly look into Capper's green eyes, but he made no +comment of any sort. He only turned aside to take up the glass he had set +down on entering. And as he did so, he smiled as a man well pleased. + +Once during the night he looked in upon Nap and found him sleeping, +wrapt in a deep and silent slumber, motionless as death. He stood awhile +watching the harsh face with its grim mouth and iron jaw, and slowly a +certain pity dawned in his own. The man had suffered infernally before he +had found his manhood. He had passed through raging fires that had left +their mark upon him for the rest of his life. + +"It's been an almighty big struggle, poor devil," said Capper, "but it's +made a man of you." + +He left early on the following day, accompanied by Tawny Hudson, whose +docility was only out-matched by his very obvious desire to be gone. + +True to her promise, Anne was down in time to take leave of Capper. They +stood together for a moment on the steps before parting. Her hand in his, +he looked straight into her quiet eyes. + +"You're not grieving any, Lady Carfax?" + +"No," she said. + +"I guess you're right," said Maurice Capper gravely. "We make our little +bids for happiness, but it helps one to remember that the issue lies +with God." + +She gave him a smile of understanding. "'He knows about it all--He +knows--He knows,'" she quoted softly. And Capper went his way, taking +with him the memory of a woman who still ploughed her endless furrow, but +with a heart at peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE PROMOTION OF THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + +"My!" said Mrs. Errol. "Isn't he just dear?" + +There was a cooing note in her deep voice. She sat in the Dower House +garden with her grandson bolt upright upon her knees, and all the birds +of June singing around her. + +"Isn't he dear, Anne?" she said. + +Anne, who was dangling a bunch of charms for the baby's amusement, +stooped and kissed the sunny curls. + +"He's a lord of creation," she said. "And he knows it already. I never +saw such an upright morsel in my life." + +"Lucas was like that," said Mrs. Errol softly. "He was just the loveliest +baby in the U.S.A. Everyone said so. Dot dearie, I'm sort of glad you +called him Luke." + +"So am I, mater dearest. And he's got Luke's eyes, hasn't he now? Bertie +said so from the very beginning." Eagerly Dot leaned from her chair to +turn her small son's head to meet his grandmother's scrutiny. "I'd rather +he were like Luke than anyone else in the world," she said. "It isn't +treason to Bertie to say so, for he wants it too. Where is Bertie, I +wonder? He had to go to town, but he promised to be back early for his +boy's first birthday-party. It's such an immense occasion, isn't it?" + +Her round face dimpled in the way Bertie most loved. She rose and slipped +a hand through Anne's arm. + +"Let's go and look for him. I know he can't be long now. The son of the +house likes having his granny to himself. He never cries with her." + +They moved away together through the sunlit garden, Dot chattering gaily +as her fashion was about nothing in particular while Anne walked beside +her in sympathetic silence. Anne was never inattentive though there were +some who deemed her unresponsive. + +But as they neared the gate Dot's volubility quite suddenly died down. +She plucked a white rose, to fill in the pause and fastened it in her +friend's dress. Her fingers trembled unmistakably as she did it, and Anne +looked at her inquiringly. "Is anything the matter?" + +"No. Why?" said Dot, turning very red. + +Anne smiled a little. "I feel as if a bird had left off singing," she +said. + +Dot laughed, still with hot cheeks. "What a pretty way of putting it! +Bertie isn't nearly so complimentary. He calls me the magpie, which is +really very unfair, for he talks much more than I do. Dear old Bertie!" + +The dimples lingered, and Anne bent suddenly and kissed them. "Dear +little Dot!" she said. + +Instantly Dot's arms were very tightly round her. "Anne darling, I've got +something to tell you--something you very possibly won't quite like. You +won't be vexed any, will you?" + +"Not any," smiled Anne. + +"No, but it isn't a small thing. It--it's rather immense. But Bertie said +I was to tell you, because you are not to be taken by surprise again. He +doesn't think it fair, and of course he's right." + +"What is it, dear?" said Anne. The smile had gone from her face, but her +eyes were steadfast and very still--the eyes of a woman who had waited +all her life. + +"My dear," said Dot, holding her closely, "it's only that Bertie didn't +go up to town on business. It was to meet someone, and--and that someone +will be with him when he comes back. I promised Bertie to tell you, but +you were so late getting here I was afraid I shouldn't have time. Oh, +Anne dear, I do hope you don't mind." + +Dot's face, a guilty scarlet, was hidden in Anne's shoulder. Anne's hand, +very quiet and steady, came up and began to stroke the fluffy hair that +blew against her neck. But she said nothing. + +It was Dot who remorsefully broke the silence. "I feel such a beast, +Anne, but really I had no hand in it this time. He wrote to Bertie +yesterday from town. He hasn't been in England for over a year, and he +wanted to know if he could come to us. Bertie went up this morning to see +him and bring him back. I thought of coming round to you, but Bertie +seemed to think I had better wait and tell you when you came. I hoped you +would have come earlier, so that I would have had more time to tell you +about it. Dear, do tell me it's all right." + +"It is all right," Anne said, and with the words she smiled again though +her face was pale. "It is quite all right, Dot dear. Don't be anxious." + +Dot looked up with a start. "That's the motor coming now. Oh, Anne, I've +only told you just in time!" + +She was quivering with excitement. It seemed as if she were far the more +agitated of the two. For Anne was calm to all outward appearance, quiet +and stately and unafraid. Only the hand that grasped Dot's was cold--cold +as ice. The motor was rapidly approaching. They stood by the gate and +heard the buzzing of the engine, the rush of the wheels, and then the +quick, gay blasts of the horn by which Bertie always announced his coming +to his wife. A moment more and the car whizzed into the drive. There came +a yell of welcome from Bertie at the wheel and the instant checking of +the motor. + +And the man beside Bertie leaned swiftly forward, bareheaded, and looked +straight into Anne's white face. + +She did not know how she met his look. It seemed to pierce her. But +she was nerved for the ordeal, and she moved towards him with +outstretched hand. + +His fingers closed upon it as he stepped from the car, gripped and +closely held it. But he spoke not a word to her; only to Dot, whom he +kissed immediately afterwards, to her confusion and Bertie's amusement. + +"I seem to have stumbled into a family gathering," he said later, when +they gave him the place of honour between Mrs. Errol and his hostess. + +"Being one of the family, I guess it's a happy accident," said +Mrs. Errol. + +He bowed to her elaborately. "Many thanks, alma mater! Considering the +short time you have had for preparing a pretty speech of welcome it does +you undoubted credit." + +"Oh, my, Nap!" she said. "I'm past making pretty speeches at my age. I +just say what I mean." + +A gleam of surprise crossed his dark face. "That so, alma mater?" he +said. "Then--considering all things--again thanks!" He turned from her to +the baby sprawling on the rug at his feet, and lifted the youngster to +his knee. "So this is the pride of the Errols now," he said. + +The baby stared up at him with serious eyes, and very deliberately and +intently Nap stared back. + +"What is his name, Dot?" he asked at length. + +"Lucas Napoleon," she said. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated. "What an unholy combination! What in +thunder possessed you to call him that?" + +"Oh, it wasn't my doing," Dot hastened to explain, with her usual +honesty, "though of course I was delighted with the idea. Bertie and I +called him Lucas almost before he was born." + +"Then who in wonder chose my name for him?" demanded Nap. + +"See the Church Catechism!" suggested Bertie. + +"Ah! Quite so." Nap turned upon him keenly. "Who were his god-parents?" + +"My dear Nap, what does it matter?" broke in Dot. "Be quiet, Bertie! For +goodness' sake make him put the child down and have some tea." + +"Let me take him," Anne said. + +She stooped to lift the boy, who held out his arms to her with a crow of +pleasure. Nap looked up at her, and for an instant only their eyes met; +but in that instant understanding dawned upon Nap's face, and with it a +strangely tender smile that made it almost gentle. + +Dot declared afterwards that the birthday-party had been all she could +have desired. Everyone had been nice to everyone, and the baby hadn't +been rude to his uncle, a calamity she had greatly feared. Also Nap was +improved, hugely improved. Didn't Bertie think so? He seemed to have got +so much more human. She couldn't realise there had ever been a time when +she had actually disliked him. + +"P'r'aps we're more human ourselves," suggested Bertie; a notion which +hadn't occurred to Dot but which she admitted might have something in it. + +Anyway, she was sure Nap had improved, and she longed to know if Anne +thought so too. + +Anne's thoughts upon that subject, however, were known to none, perhaps +not even to herself. All she knew was an overwhelming desire for +solitude, but when this was hers at last it was not in the consideration +of this question that she spent it. + +It was in kneeling by her open window with her face to the sky, and +in her heart a rapture of gladness that all the birds of June could +not utter. + +She scarcely slept at all that night, yet when she rose some of the bloom +of youth had come back to her, some of its summer splendour was shining +in her eyes. Anne Carfax was more nearly a beautiful woman that day than +she had ever been before. + +Dimsdale looked at her benignly. Would her ladyship breakfast +out-of-doors? She smiled and gave her assent, and while he was preparing +she plucked a spray of rose acacia and pinned it at her throat. + +"Dimsdale," she said, and her cheeks flushed to the soft tint of the +blossom as she spoke, "Mr. Errol is coming over this morning. I expect +him to luncheon." + +"Mr. Errol, my lady?" + +"Mr. Nap Errol," said Anne, still intent upon the acacia. "Show him into +the garden when he comes. He is sure to find me somewhere." + +Dimsdale's eyes opened very wide, but he managed his customary "Very +good, my lady," as he continued his preparations. And so Anne breakfasted +amid the tumult of rejoicing June, all the world laughing around her, all +the world offering abundant thanksgiving because of the sunshine that +flooded it. + +When breakfast was over she sat with closed eyes, seeming to hear the +very heart of creation throbbing in every sound, yet listening, listening +intently for something more. For a long time she sat thus, absorbed in +the great orchestra, waiting as it were to take her part in the mighty +symphony that swept its perfect harmonies around her. + +It was a very little thing at last that told her her turn had come, so +small a thing, and yet it sent the blood tingling through every vein, +racing and pulsing with headlong impetus like a locked stream suddenly +set free. It was no more than the flight of a startled bird from the tree +above her. + +She opened her eyes, quivering from head to foot. Yesterday she had +commanded herself. She had gone to him with outstretched hand and +welcoming smile. To-day she sat quite still. She could not move. + +He came to her, stooped over her, then knelt beside her; but he did not +offer to touch her. The sunlight streamed down upon his upturned face. +His eyes were deep and still and passionless. + +"You expected me," he said. + +She looked down at him. "I have been expecting you for a very long +time," she said. + +A flicker that was scarcely a smile crossed his face. "And yet I've come +too soon," he said. + +"Why do you say that?" She asked the question almost in spite of herself. +But she had begun to grow calmer. His quietness reassured her. + +"Because, my Queen," he said, "the _rôle_ of jester at court is +obsolete, at least so far as I am concerned, and I haven't managed to +qualify for another." + +"Do you want another?" she said. + +He turned his eyes away from her. "I want--many things," he said. + +She motioned him to the seat beside her. "Tell me what you have been +doing all this time." + +"I can't," he said. + +But he rose and sat beside her as she desired. + +"What under heaven have I been doing?" he said. "I don't know, I guess +I've been something like Nebuchadnezzar when they turned him out to +grass. I've been just--ruminating," + +"Is that all?" There was a curious note of relief in Anne's voice. + +His old magnetic smile flashed across his face as he caught it. "That's +all, Queen Anne. It's been monstrous dull. Do you know, I don't think +Heaven intended me for a hermit." + +Involuntarily almost she smiled in answer. Her heart was beating quite +steadily again. She was no longer afraid. + +"Nebuchadnezzar came to his own again," she observed. + +"He did," said Nap. + +"And you?" + +He leaned back with his face to the sky. "Not yet," he said. + +Anne was silent. He turned after a moment and looked at her. "And what +have you been doing, 0 Queen?" he said. + +Her hands were clasped in her lap. They suddenly gripped each other +very fast. + +"Won't you tell me?" said Nap. + +He spoke very softly, but he made no movement towards her. He sat aloof +and still. Yet he plainly desired an answer. + +It came at last, spoken almost in a whisper. "I have been--waiting." + +"Waiting--" he said. + +She parted her hands suddenly, with a gesture that was passionate, and +rose. "Yes, waiting," she said, "waiting, Nap, waiting! And oh, I'm so +tired of it. I'm not like you. I have never wanted--many things; only +one--only one!" Her voice broke. She turned sharply from him. + +Nap had sprung to his feet. He stood close to her. But he held himself +in check. He kept all emotion out of his face and voice. + +"Do you think I don't know?" he said. "My dear Anne, I have always known. +That's the damnable part of it. You've wanted truth instead of +treachery, honour instead of shame, love instead of--" + +She put out a quick hand. "Don't say it, Nap!" + +He took her hand, drew it to his heart, and held it there. "And you say +you don't want many things," he went on, in a tone half sad, half +whimsical. "My dear, if I could give you one tenth of what you want--and +ought to have--you'd be a lucky woman and I a thrice lucky man. +But--we've got to face it--I can't. I thought I could train myself, +fashion myself, into something worthy of your acceptance. I can't. I +thought I could win back your trust, your friendship, last of all your +love. But I can't even begin. You can send me away from you if you will, +and I'll go for good and all. On the other hand, you can keep me, you can +marry me--" He paused; and she fancied she felt his heart quicken. "You +can marry me," he said again, "but you can't tame me. You'll find me an +infernal trial to live with. I'm not a devil any longer. No, and I'm not +a brute. But I am still a savage at heart, and there are some parts of me +that won't tame. My love for you is a seething furnace, an intolerable +craving. I can't contemplate you sanely. I want you unspeakably." + +His hold had tightened. She could feel his heart throbbing now like a +fierce thing caged. His eyes had begun to glow. The furnace door was +opening. She could feel the heat rushing out, enveloping her. Soon it +would begin to scorch her. And yet she knew no shrinking. Rather she drew +nearer, as a shivering creature starved and frozen draws near to the +hunter's fire. + +He went on speaking rapidly, with rising passion. "My love for you is the +one part of me that I haven't got under control, and it's such a mighty +big part that the rest is hardly worthy of mention. It's great enough to +make everything else contemptible. I've no use for lesser things. I want +just you--only you--only you--for the rest of my life!" + +He stopped suddenly, seemed on the verge of something further, then +pulled himself together with a sharp gesture. The next moment, quite +quietly, he relinquished her hand. + +"I'm afraid that's all there is to me," he said. "Lucas would have given +you understanding, friendship, chivalry, all that a good woman wants. I +can only offer you--bondage." + +He half turned with the words, standing as if it needed but a sign to +dismiss him. But Anne made no sign. Over their heads a thrush had +suddenly begun to pour out his soul to the June sunshine, and she stood +spell-bound, listening. + +At the end of several breathless moments she spoke and in her voice was +a deep note that thrilled like music. + +"There is a bondage," she said, "that is sweeter than any freedom. And, +Nap, it is the one thing in this world that I want--that I need--that I +pray for night and day." + +"Anne!" he said. He turned back to her. He took the hands she gave him. +"Anne," he said again, speaking rapidly, in a voice that shook, "I have +tried to play a straight game with you. I have warned you. I am not the +right sort. You know what I am. You know." + +"Yes," Anne said, "I know." She raised her head and looked him straight +in the eyes. "You are all the world to me, Nap," she said. "You are the +man I love." + +His arms caught her, crushed her fiercely to him, held her fast. + +"Say it again!" he said, his fiery eyes flaming. "Say it! Say it!" + +But Anne said nought. Only for a long, long second she gazed into his +face; then in utter silence she turned her lips to his. + + * * * * * + +They spent the whole of the long June day together in the garden. Neither +knew how the time went till evening came upon them all unawares--a golden +evening of many fragrances. + +They came at last along the green path under the lilac trees, and here +by the rustic seat Nap stopped. + +"I'll leave you here," he said. + +She looked at him in surprise. "Won't you dine with me?" + +"No," he said restlessly. "I won't come in. I should stifle under a roof +to-night." + +"But we will dine outside," she said. + +He shook his head. "No, I'm going. Anne," he caught her hand to his lips, +"I hate leaving you. How long must I be condemned to it?" + +She touched his shoulder with her cheek. "Don't you know that I hate it +too?" she said. + +"Then--" He put his arm round her. + +"Next week, Nap," she said. + +"You mean it?" + +"Yes. I mean it." + +"You will marry me next week. What day?" + +"Any day," she said, with her face against his shoulder. + +"Any day, Anne? You mean that? You mean me to choose?" + +She laughed softly. "I shall leave everything to you." + +"Then I choose Sunday," Nap said, without an instant's consideration, "as +early in the morning as possible. I shall go straight to the padre and +arrange it right now." + +"Very well," she said. "I'll try to be ready." + +He threw up his head with the old arrogant gesture. "You must be ready," +he said imperiously. "I shall come and fetch you myself." + +She laughed again at that. "Indeed you will not. I shall go with +Mrs. Errol." + +He conceded this point, albeit grudgingly. "And afterwards?" he said. + +"The afterwards shall be yours, dear," she answered. + +"You mean that?" + +"Of course I mean it." + +"Then, Anne"--he bent his face suddenly, his lips moved against her +forehead--"will you come with me to Bramhurst?" + +"Bramhurst!" She started a little. The name to her was no more than a +bitter memory among the many other bitter memories of her life. + +"Will you?" he said. + +"If you wish it," she answered gently. + +"I do wish it." + +"Then--so be it," she said. + +He bent his head a little lower, kissed her twice passionately upon the +lips, held her awhile as if he could not bear to let her go, then tore +himself almost violently from her, and went away, swift and noiseless as +a shadow over the grass. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS + + +It was late on the evening of her wedding-day that Anne entered once +more the drawing-room of the little inn at Bramhurst and stopped by the +open window. + +There was a scent of musk in the room behind her, and an odour infinitely +more alluring of roses and honeysuckle in the garden in front. Beyond the +garden the common lay in the rosy dusk of the afterglow under a deep blue +sky. The clang of a distant cow-bell came dreamily through the silence. + +She stood leaning against the door-post with her face to the night. It +was a night of wonder, of marvellous, soul-stilling peace. Yet her brows +were slightly drawn as she waited there. She seemed to be puzzling over +something. + +"Say it out loud," said Nap. + +She did not start at the words though he had come up behind her without +sound. She stretched out her hand without turning and drew his arm +through hers. + +"Why did we choose this place?" she said. + +"You didn't choose it," said Nap. + +"Then you?" + +"I chose it chiefly because I knew you hated it," he said, a queer +vibration of recklessness in his voice. + +"My dear Nap, am I to believe that?" + +He looked at her through the falling dusk, and his hand closed tense and +vital upon her arm. "It's the truth anyway," he said. "I knew you hated +the place, that you only came to it for my sake. And I--I made you come +because I wanted you to love it." + +"For your sake, Nap?" she said softly. + +"Yes, and for another reason." He paused a moment; speech seemed suddenly +an effort to him. Then: "Anne," he said, "you forgave me, I know, long +ago; but I want you here--on this spot--to tell me that what happened +here is to you as if it had never been. I want it blotted out of your +mind for ever. I want your trust--your trust!" + +It was like a hunger-cry rising from the man's very soul. At sound of it +she turned impulsively. + +"Nap, never speak of this again! My dearest, we need not have come here +for that. Yet I am glad now that we came. It will be holy ground to me as +long as I live. As long as I live," she repeated very earnestly, "I shall +remember that it was here that the door of paradise was opened to us at +last, and that God meant us to enter in." + +She lifted her eyes to his with a look half-shy, half-confident. "You +believe in God," she said. + +He did not answer at once. He was looking out beyond her for the first +time, and the restless fire had gone out of his eyes. They were still and +deep as a mountain pool. + +"Nap," she said in a whisper. + +Instantly his look came back to her. He took her face between his hands +with a tenderness so new that it moved her inexplicably to tears. + +"I believe in the Power that casts out devils," he said very gravely. +"Luke taught me that much. I guess my wife will teach me the rest." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS*** + + +******* This file should be named 12484-8.txt or 12484-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/4/8/12484 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** diff --git a/old/12484-8.zip b/old/12484-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cbd574f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12484-8.zip diff --git a/old/12484.txt b/old/12484.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f30d90 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12484.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15603 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Knave of Diamonds, by Ethel May Dell + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Knave of Diamonds + +Author: Ethel May Dell + +Release Date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #12484] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects, +Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS + +By ETHEL M. DELL + +Author of "The Way Of An Eagle" + +1912 + + + + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY FRIEND AND SISTER IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF +HER SYMPATHY AND HELP + + + + +O Charity, all patiently + Abiding wrack and scaith! +O Faith that meets ten thousand cheats + Yet drops no jot of faith! +Devil and brute Thou dost transmute + To higher, lordlier show, +Who art in sooth that lovely Truth + The careless angels know! + +_To the True Romance_. + +RUDYARD KIPLING + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + + +CHAPTER + + I.--THE MISSING HEART + + II.--THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + III.--THE CHARIOT OF THE GODS + + IV.--CAKE MORNING + + V.--THE FIRST ENCOUNTER + + VI.--AT THE MEET + + VII.--THE FALL + + VIII.--THE RIDE HOME + + IX.--THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE + + X.--THE HAND OF A FRIEND + + XI.--THE STING OF A SCORPION + + XII.--BROTHERS + + XIII.--THE JESTER'S INFERNO + + XIV.--A BIG THING + + XV.--THE CHAMPION + + XVI.--THE MASQUERADE + + XVII.--THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS + +XVIII.--THE DESCENT FROM OLYMPUS + + XIX.--VENGEANCE + + XX.--THE VISION + + XXI.--AT THE MERCY OF A DEMON + + XXII.--THE CITY OF REFUGE + + +PART II + + + I.--THE JESTER'S RETURN + + II.--THE KERNEL OF THE DIFFICULTY + + III.--THE FIRST ORDEAL + + IV.--THE FATAL STREAK + + V.--THE TOKEN + + VI.--THE BURIAL OF A HATCHET + + VII.--A QUESTION OF TRUST + + VIII.--A SUDDEN BLOW + + IX.--THE BOON + + X.--A DAY IN PARADISE + + XI.--THE RETURN TO EARTH + + XII.--IN THE FACE OF THE GODS + + XIII.--AN APPEAL AND ITS ANSWER + + XIV.--THE IRRESISTIBLE + + XV.--ON THE EDGE OF THE PIT + + XVI.--DELIVERANCE + + +PART III + + + I.--THE POWER DIVINE + + II.--THE WORKER OF MIRACLES + + III.--THE WOMAN'S PART + + IV.--THE MESSAGE + + V.--THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND + + VI.--A VOICE THAT CALLED + + VII.--THE UNINVITED GUEST + + VIII.--THE HEART OF A SAVAGE + + IX.--THE DIVINE SPARK + + X.--THE QUEEN'S PARDON + + XI.--SOMETHING GREAT + + XII.--A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING + + XIII.--THE FINAL DEFEAT + + XIV.--AT THE GATE OF DEATH + + XV.--THE KING'S DECREE + + XVI.--THE STRAIGHT GAME + + XVII.--THE TRANSFORMING MAGIC + +XVIII.--THE LAST ORDEAL + + XIX.--OUT OF THE FURNACE + + XX.--THE PROMOTION OF THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + XXI.--THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS + + + + + +PART I + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MISSING HEART + + +There came a sudden blare of music from the great ballroom below, and the +woman who stood alone at an open window on the first floor shrugged her +shoulders and shivered a little. The night air blew in brisk and cold +upon her uncovered neck, but except for that slight, involuntary shiver +she scarcely seemed aware of it. The room behind her was brilliantly +lighted but empty. Some tables had been set for cards, but the cards were +untouched. Either the attractions of the ballroom had remained +omnipotent, or no one had penetrated to this refuge of the bored--no one +save this tall and stately woman robed in shimmering, iridescent green, +who stood with her face to the night, breathing the chill air as one who +had been on the verge of suffocation. It was evidently she who had flung +up the window. Her gloved hands leaned upon the woodwork on each side of +it. There was a certain constraint in her whole attitude, a tension that +was subtly evident in every graceful line. Her head was slightly bent as +though she intently watched or listened for something. + +Yet nothing could have been audible where she stood above the hubbub of +music, laughter, and stamping feet that rose from below. It filled the +night with uproar. Nor was there anything but emptiness in the narrow +side-street into which she looked. + +The door of the room was ajar and gradually swinging wider in the +draught. Very soon it would be wide enough for anyone passing in the +passage outside to spy the slim figure that stood so motionless before +the open window. It was almost wide enough now. Surely it was wide +enough, for suddenly it ceased to move. The draught continued to eddy +round the room, stirring the soft brown hair about the woman's temples, +but the door stood still as at the behest of an unseen hand. + +For fully half a minute nothing happened; then as suddenly and silently +as a picture flashed from a magic lantern slide, a man's head came into +view. A man's eyes, dusky, fierce, with something of a stare in them, +looked the motionless figure keenly up and down. + +There followed another interval as though the intruder were debating +with himself upon some plan of action, then, boldly but quite quietly, he +pushed the door back and entered. + +He was a slight, trim man, clean-shaven, with high cheek-bones that made +a long jaw seem the leaner by contrast. His sleek black hair was parted +in the middle above his swarthy face, giving an unmistakably foreign +touch to his appearance. His tread was light and wary as a cat's. + +His eyes swept the room comprehensively as he advanced, coming back +to the woman at the window as though magnetically drawn to her. But +she remained quite unaware of him, and he, no whit disconcerted, +calmly seated himself at one of the tables behind her and took up a +pack of cards. + +The dance-music in the room below was uproariously gay. Some of the +dancers were singing. Now and then a man's voice bellowed through the +clamour like the blare of a bull. + +Whenever this happened, the man at the table smiled to himself a faint, +thin-lipped smile, and the woman at the window shivered again. + +Suddenly, during a lull, he spoke. He was counting out the cards into +heaps with lightning rapidity, turning up one here and there, and he did +not raise his eyes from his occupation. + +"I say, you know," he said in a drawl that was slightly nasal, "you will +have to tell me how old you are. Is that an obstacle?" + +She wheeled round at the first deliberate syllable. The electric +light flared upon her pale, proud face. She stood in dead silence, +looking at him. + +"You mustn't mind," he said persuasively, still without lifting his eyes. +"I swear I'll never tell. Come now!" + +Very quietly she turned and closed the window; then with a certain +stateliness she advanced to the table at which he sat, and stopped +before it. + +"I think you are making a mistake," she said, in a voice that had a hint +of girlish sweetness about it despite its formality. + +He looked up then with a jerk, and the next instant was on his feet. + +"Gad! I'm tremendously sorry! What must you take me for? I took you for +Mrs. Damer. I beg you will forgive me." + +She smiled a little, and some of the severity went out of her face. For a +moment that too seemed girlish. + +"It is of no consequence. I saw it was a mistake." + +"An idiotic mistake!" he declared with emphasis. "And you are not a bit +like Mrs. Damer either. Are you waiting for someone? Would you like me to +clear out?" + +"Certainly not. I am going myself." + +"Oh, but don't!" he begged her very seriously. "I shall take it horribly +to heart if you do. And really, I don't deserve such a snub as that." + +Again she faintly smiled. "I am not feeling malicious, but you are +expecting your partner. And I--" + +"No, I am not," he asserted. "My partner has basely deserted me for +another fellow. I came in here merely because I was wandering about +seeking distraction. Please don't go--unless I bore you--in which case +you have only to dismiss me." + +She turned her eyes questioningly upon the cards before him. "What are +you doing with them? Is it a game?" + +"Won't you sit down?" he said, "and I will tell you." + +She seated herself facing him. "Well?" + +He considered the cards for a little, his brows bent. Then, "It is a +magician's game," he said. "Let me read your fortune." + +She hesitated. + +Instantly he looked up. "You are not afraid?" + +She met his look, a certain wistfulness in her grey eyes. "Oh, no, not +afraid--only sceptical." + +"Only sceptical!" he echoed. "That is a worldwide complaint. But anyone +with imagination can always pretend. You are not good at pretending?" + +"Not particularly." + +His eyes challenged hers. "Perhaps you have never needed an anaesthetic?" +he said coolly. + +She looked slightly startled. "What do you mean?" + +He leaned deliberately forward across the table. "You know what an +anaesthetic does, don't you? It cheats the senses of pain. And a little +humbug does the same for the mind. Of course you don't believe anything. +I don't myself. But you can't stand for ever and contemplate an abyss of +utter ignorance. You must weave a little romance about it for the sake of +your self-respect." + +She looked straight into the challenging eyes. The wistfulness was still +in her own. "Then you are offering to weave a little romance for me?" she +said, with a faint involuntary sigh. + +He made her a brief bow. "If you will permit me to do so." + +"To relieve your boredom?" she suggested with a smile. + +"And yours," he smiled back, taking up the cards. + +She did not contradict him. She only lowered her eyes to the deft hands +that were disposing the cards in mystic array upon the table. + +There followed a few moments of silence; then in his careless, unmusical +drawl the man spoke. + +"Do you mind telling me your first name? It is essential to the game, of +course, or I shouldn't presume to ask." + +"My name is Anne," she said. + +The noise below had lessened considerably, and this fact seemed to cause +her some relief. The tension had gone out of her bearing. She sat with +her chin upon her hand. + +Not a beautiful woman by any means, she yet possessed that indescribable +charm which attracts almost in spite of itself. There was about her +every movement a queenly grace that made her remarkable, and yet she was +plainly not one to court attention. Her face in repose had a look of +unutterable weariness. + +"How old are you please?" said the magician. + +"Twenty-five." + +He glanced up at her. + +"Yes, twenty-five," she repeated. "I am twenty-five to-day." + +He looked at her fixedly for a few seconds, then in silence returned to +his cards. + +She continued to watch him without much interest. The dance-music was +quickening to the _finale_. The hubbub of voices had died away. Evidently +a good many people had ceased to dance. + +Suddenly her companion spoke. "Do you like diamonds?" + +She smiled at the question. "Yes, I like them. I haven't a passion +for them." + +"No," he said, without raising his eyes. "You haven't a passion for +anything at present. You will have soon." + +"I think it very unlikely," she said. + +"Of course you do." He was manoeuvring the cards rapidly with one hand. +"Your eyes have not been opened yet. I see an exciting time before you. +You are going to have an illness first. That comes in the near future." + +"I have never been ill in my life," she said. + +"No? It will be an experience for you, then--not a very painful one, I +hope. Are you getting nervous?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Ah! That's as well, because here comes the King of Diamonds. He has +taken a decided fancy to you, and if you have any heart at all, which +I can't discover, you ought to end by being the Queen. No, here comes +the Knave--confound his impudence!--and, by Jove, yes, followed by the +missing heart. I am glad you have got one anyway, even if the King is +not in it. It looks as if you will have some trouble with that Knave, +so beware of him." He glanced up at her for a moment. "Beware of him!" +he repeated deliberately. "He is a dangerous scamp. The King is the +man for you." + +She received his caution with that faint smile of hers that softened her +face but never seemed to reach her eyes. + +He continued his contemplation of the cards in silence for some seconds. +"Yes," he said finally, "I see an exciting future before you. I hope you +will look out for me when you come into your own. I should value your +majesty's favour immensely." + +"I will give you a place at court as the Queen's jester," she said. + +He glanced up again sharply, met her smile, and bowed with much ceremony. +"Your majesty's most humble servant!" he declared, "I enter upon my +functions from this day forward. You will see my cap and bells in the +forefront of the throng when you ride to your coronation." + +"You are sure there will be a coronation?" she asked. + +"It is quite evident," he replied with conviction. + +"Even though I chance to be married already?" + +He raised his brows. "That so?" he drawled. "Well, it rather complicates +matters, doesn't it? Still--" He looked again at the cards. "It seems +pretty certain. If it weren't for that hobgoblin of a Knave I should say +it was quite so. He comes between the King and the heart, you see. I +shouldn't be too intimate with him if I were you." + +She rose, still smiling. "I shall certainly keep him at a respectful +distance," she said. "Good-bye." + +"Oh, are you going? Let me escort you! Really, I've nothing else to do." +He swept the cards together and sprang to his feet. "Where may I take +you? Would you like some refreshment?" + +She accepted his proffered arm though she instantly negatived his +proposal. "Shall we go down to the vestibule? No doubt you have a partner +for the next dance." + +"Have you?" he questioned keenly. + +"That is beside the point," she remarked. + +"Not at all. It is the centre and crux of the situation. Do say you are +disengaged for the next!" His manner became almost boyishly eager. He +had shed his drawl like a garment. "Say it!" he insisted. + +She stood in the doorway as one halting between two opinions. "But if I +am not disengaged?" she said. + +He laughed. "There is a remedy for that, I fancy. And the Queen can do +no wrong. Don't be a slave to the great god Convention! He's such a +hideous bore." + +His bold dark eyes smiled freely into hers. It was evident that he wasted +little time before the shrine of the deity he condemned. But for all +their mastery, they held a certain persuasive charm as well. She +hesitated a moment longer--and was lost. + +"Well, where shall we go?" + +"I know of an excellent sitting-out place if your majesty will deign to +accompany me," he said, "a corner where one can see without being +seen--always an advantage, you will allow." + +"You seem to know this place rather well," she observed, as she suffered +him to lead her away in triumph. + +He smiled shrewdly. "A wise general always studies his ground," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + +The chosen corner certainly had the advantage of privacy. It was an +alcove at the end of one of the long narrow passages in which the ancient +hostelry abounded, and the only light it boasted filtered through a +square aperture in the wall which once had held a window. Through this +aperture the curious could spy into the hall below, which just then was +thronged with dancers who were crowding out of the ballroom and drifting +towards the refreshment-room, the entrance to which was also visible. + +An ancient settee had been placed in this coign of vantage, and upon this +they established themselves by mutual consent. + +The man was laughing a little below his breath. "I feel like a +refugee," he said. + +His companion leaned her arms upon the narrow row sill and gazed +downwards. "A refugee from boredom?" she suggested. "We are all that, +more or less." + +"I dispute that," he said at once. "It is only the bores who are +ever bored." + +"And I dispute that," she replied, without turning, "of necessity, in +self-defence." + +He leaned forward to catch the light upon her profile. "You are bored?" + +She smiled faintly in the gloom. "That is why I have engaged the services +of a jester." + +"By Jove," he said, "I'm glad you pitched on me." + +She made a slight movement of impatience. "Isn't it rather futile to say +that sort of thing?" + +"Why?" he asked. + +"Because you know quite well it was not a matter of choice." + +"Rather a matter of _manque de mieux_?" he suggested coolly. + +She turned from her contemplation of the crowd below. "I am not going to +contradict you," she said, "I never foster _amour propre_ in a man. It is +always a plant of hardy growth." + +"'Hardy' is not the word," he declared. "Say 'rank,' and you will be +nearer the mark. I fully endorse your opinion. We are a race of +conceited, egotistical jackanapeses, and we all think we are going to +lick creation till a pretty woman comes along and makes us dance to her +piping like a row of painted marionettes. But is the pretty woman any +the happier, do you think, for tumbling us thus ruthlessly off our +pedestals? I sometimes wonder if the sight of the sawdust doesn't make +her wish she hadn't." + +The drawl in his voice was very apparent as he uttered the last sentence. +His chin was propped upon his hands. He was obviously studying her with a +deliberate criticism that observed and considered every detail. + +But his scrutiny held without embarrassing her. She met it with no +conscious effort. + +"I can't bear cynicism," she told him frankly. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Cynics--real cynics--never can." + +"But I am not a cynic." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Yes, quite sure." + +"And yet you tell me that you never take the trouble to flatter the +inferior male. That's conflicting evidence, you know. Are you a +man-hater, by the way?" + +She shivered as if at a sudden draught. "I'm not prepared to answer that +question off-hand." she said. + +"Very prudent of you!" he commented. "Do you know I owe you an apology?" + +"I shouldn't have said so." + +"No? Well, let me confess. I'm rather good at confessing. I didn't +believe you just now when you said you were twenty-five. Now I do. That +single streak of prudence was proof absolute and convincing." + +"I usually tell the truth," she said somewhat stiffly. + +"Yes, it takes a genius to lie properly. I am not so good at it myself as +I should like to be. But a woman of twenty-five ought not to look like a +princess of eighteen--a tired princess moreover, who ought to have been +sent to bed long ago." + +Her laugh had in it a note of bitterness. "You certainly are not the sort +of genius you aspire to be," she said, "any more than I am a princess of +eighteen." + +"But you will be a queen at thirty," he said. "Hullo! Here is someone +coming! Don't speak, and p'r'aps they won't discover us. They can't +stay long." + +He rose swiftly with the words and blocked the little spy-hole with +his body. Certainly footsteps were approaching, but they ceased before +they reached the alcove at the end of the passage. There was another +settee midway. + +"Oh, this is quite comfortable," said a woman's voice. "Here I am, Major +Shirley! It's dark, isn't it, but rather a relief after the glare +downstairs. What a crush it is! I am beginning to think the Hunt Ball +rather a farce, for it is next to impossible to dance." + +"People don't know how to dance nowadays," grumbled Major Shirley in +response. "I can't stand these American antics. That young Nap Errol +fairly sickens me." + +"Oh, but he is a splendid dancer," protested his partner tolerantly. + +"Oh course you say so," growled the Major. "All women like that horrid +little whipper-snapper. I can't see what in thunder they find to attract +them. I call him a downright cad myself, and I'm inclined to think him a +blackguard as well. He wouldn't be tolerated if it weren't for his +dollars, and they all belong to his brother, I'm told." + +"Ah! He is a charming man. Such a pity he is a cripple!" + +"He would probably be as insufferable as Nap if he weren't," rejoined the +Major gloomily. "I can't think what the County are coming to. They will +accept anybody nowadays, it seems to me. I even met that little bounder +at the Rifle Club the other day. Heaven knows how he got in. Dollars +again, I suppose, confound his audacity!" + +His partner made a slight movement of uneasiness. "I wonder where he +is. I haven't seen him for some time. I hope he isn't anywhere +within earshot." + +"Not he! He is stowed away in some corner well out of the way with his +latest conquest. He won't turn up again this evening. He never does when +once he goes to earth--the wily young fox." + +"Who is his latest conquest, I wonder?" mused the woman. "I thought it +was Mrs. Damer. But I have just seen her dancing with young Waring." + +"Mrs. Damer! Why, that was the day before yesterday!" The Major laughed +unpleasantly. "'Anyone for a change, but no one for long,' is his motto. +The fellow is an infernal bounder through and through. He will get a +sound hiding one of these days, and serve him jolly well right, say I!" + +"My dear Major, how you hate him! Anyone would think he had tried to +flirt with Violet." + +"He'd better," growled the Major. + +There came a slight sound from the darkness of the alcove, as though +someone faintly chuckled. + +"What's that?" asked the woman's voice nervously. + +"Nothing--nothing!" said the Major testily. "Somebody laughing in the +hall. I wonder where my wife is. I shall clear out soon. I'm tired of +this show. Haven't had a decent dance all the evening. Shouldn't think +you have either. They ought to build a Town Hall in this place, and do +the thing properly." + +"There is some talk of it, you know. Now that there is a millionaire in +the neighbourhood it really might be done. The Carfaxes would help too, I +am sure. Sir Giles is very open-handed." + +"Drunken beast!" commented the Major. "A pretty spectacle he has been +making of himself to-night. He is sitting in a corner of the +refreshment-room now absolutely incapable. He reached the noisy stage +very early in the evening. I am not sure that he even came sober." + +"No! Isn't it too pitiful for words? That young wife of his! I can't +think how she endures it. It must be positive martyrdom." + +"Lady Carfax is a fool!" said the Major crossly. "I can't stand these +martyrs. If she leads a dog's life it's her own fault. She's a fool to +put up with it." + +"Perhaps she can't help herself," pleaded the woman. + +"Stuff and nonsense! No woman need be the slave of a drunken sot like +that. It's a downright offence to me to be in the same room with the +fellow. He always reeks of drink. And she has, or professes to have, a +certain amount of refinement. Not much, I dare say. She was nothing but +his bailiff's daughter, you know, and people of that class don't +generally suffer from an exaggerated sense of duty. She probably sticks +to the man because she wants to keep in with the County. I don't like the +woman, never did. Her airs and graces always rub me up wrong way. Why +couldn't Sir Giles have married in his own set? He probably wouldn't be +so fond of the whiskey bottle now if he had." + +"I must say I like Lady Carfax," broke in the woman with decision. +"Whatever her origin, that queenliness of hers is not assumed. I believe +her to be intensely reserved, and, perhaps for that very reason, I have a +genuine admiration for her." + +"My dear Mrs. Randal, you'd find points to admire in a wax candle," +grunted the Major. "She always makes me think of one; pale and pure and +saintly--I can't stand the type. Let's go downstairs and find Violet." + +"Oh, not saintly, I think," protested Mrs. Randal charitably. "Saintly +people are so uninteresting." + +The Major laughed. He was already on his feet. + +"Probably not--probably not. But a show of saintliness is more than +enough to frighten me away. A woman who can't understand a wink I +invariably strike forthwith off my visiting-list." + +"How cruel of you!" laughed Mrs. Randal. They were already moving away +down the corridor. Her voice receded as they went. "But I can't +understand any man daring to wink at Lady Carfax; I can't, indeed." + +"That's just what I complain about," grumbled Major Shirley. "Those +wax-candle sort of women never see a joke. What fools they are to leave +the place in darkness like this! Can you see where you are going?" + +"Yes, we are just at the head of the stairs. It is rather foolish as you +say. People might hurt themselves." + +"Of course they might. Infernally dangerous. I shall complain." + +The voices fell away into distance; the band in the ballroom struck +up again, and the woman on the settee in the alcove sat up and +prepared to rise. + +"Suppose we go down now," she said. + +Her companion moved away from the little window as one coming out of a +reverie. "Our gallant Major Shirley seems somewhat disgruntled tonight," +he said. "Do you know him?" + +"Yes, I know him." Her words fell with icy precision. + +"So do I." The man's tone was one of sheer amusement. "I had the pleasure +of meeting him at the Rifle Club the other day. Someone introduced us. It +was great fun. If there were a little more light, I would show you what +he looked like. For some reason he wasn't pleased. Do you really want to +go downstairs though? It is much nicer here." + +She had risen. They were facing one another in the twilight. "Yes," she +said, and though still quiet her voice was not altogether even. "I want +to go, please." + +"Mayn't I tell you something first?" he said. + +She stood silent, evidently waiting for his communication. + +"It's not of paramount importance," he said. "But I think you may as well +know it for your present edification and future guidance. Madam, I am +that wicked, wanton, wily fox, that whipper-snapper, that unmitigated +bounder--Nap Errol!" + +He made the announcement with supreme complacence. It was evident that he +felt not the faintest anxiety as to how she would receive it. There was +even a certain careless hauteur about him as though the qualities he +thus frankly enumerated were to him a source of pride. + +She heard him with no sign of astonishment. "I knew it," she said +quietly. "I have known you by sight for some time." + +"And you were not afraid to speak to such a dangerous scoundrel?" he +said. + +"You don't strike me as being very formidable," she answered. "Moreover, +if you remember, it was you who spoke first." + +"To be sure," he said. "It was all of a piece with my habitual confounded +audacity. Shall I tell you something more? I wonder whether I dare." + +"Wait!" she said imperatively. "It is my turn to tell you something, +though it is more than possible that you know it already. Mr. Errol, I +am--Lady Carfax!" + +He bowed low. "I did know," he said, in a tone from which all hint of +banter had departed. "But I thank you none the less for telling me. I +much doubted if you would. And that brings me to my second--or is it my +third?--confession. I did not take you for Mrs. Damer in the card-room a +little while ago. I took you for no one but yourself. No man of ordinary +intelligence could do otherwise. But I had been wanting to make your +acquaintance all the evening, and no one would be kind enough to present +me. So I took the first opportunity that occurred, trusting to the end to +justify the means." + +"But why have you told me?" she said. + +"Because I think you are a woman who appreciates the truth." + +"I am," she said. "But I do not often hear it as I have heard it +to-night" + +He put out his hand to her impulsively. "Say, Lady Carfax, let me go and +kick that old scandal-monger into the middle of next week!" + +Involuntarily almost she gave her hand in return. "No, you mustn't," she +said, laughing faintly. "The fault was ours. You know the ancient adage +about listeners. We deserved it all." + +"Don't talk about deserts!" he exclaimed, with unexpected vehemence. "He +doesn't deserve to have a whole bone left in his body for speaking of you +so. Neither do I for suffering it in my presence!" + +She freed her hand gently. "You could not have done otherwise. Believe +me, I am not altogether sorry that you were with me when it happened. It +is just as well that you should know the truth, and I could not have told +it you myself. Come, shall we go down?" + +"Wait a minute!" he said. "Let me know how I stand with you first. Have +you decided to pass over that lie of mine, or are you going to cut me +next time we meet?" + +"I shall not cut you," she said. + +"You are going to acknowledge me then with the coldest of nods, which is +even more damnable," he returned, with gloomy conviction. + +She hesitated for an instant. Then, "Mr. Errol," she said gently, "will +you believe me when I say that, however I treat you in the future, that +lie of yours will in no way influence me? You have helped me much more +than you realise by your trifling to-night. I am not sure that you meant +to do so. But I am grateful to you all the same." + +"Then we are friends?" said Nap, quickly. + +"Yes, we are friends; but it is very unlikely that we shall meet again. I +cannot invite you to call." + +"And you won't call either on my mother?" he asked. + +"I am afraid not." + +He was silent a moment. Then, "So let it be!" he said. "But I fancy we +shall meet again notwithstanding. So _au revoir_, Lady Carfax! Can you +find your own way down?" + +She understood in an instant the motive that prompted the question, and +the impulse to express her appreciation of it would not be denied. She +extended her hand with an assumption of royal graciousness that did not +cloak her gratitude. "Good-bye, Sir Jester!" she said. + +He took her fingers gallantly upon his sleeve and touched them with his +lips. "Farewell to your most gracious majesty!" he responded. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CHARIOT OF THE GODS + + +The Hunt Ball was over, and Mrs. Damer, wife of the M.F.H., was +standing on the steps of the Carfax Arms, bidding the last members of +the Hunt farewell. + +Nap Errol was assisting her. He often did assist Mrs. Damer with that +careless, half-insolent gallantry of his that no woman ever dreamed of +resenting. Like his namesake of an earlier date he held his own wherever +he went by sheer, stupendous egotism. + +The crowd had thinned considerably, the band had begun to pack up. In the +refreshment-room waiters were hurrying to and fro. + +"Isn't it horrid?" laughed Mrs. Damer, shrugging her shoulders and +shivering. "One feels so demoralised at this end of the night. Nap, I +wish you would find my husband. I've said good-night to everybody, and I +want to go home to bed." + +"Lady Carfax hasn't gone yet," observed Nap. "I saw her standing in the +doorway of the ladies' cloak-room just now." + +"Lady Carfax! Are you sure? I thought they went long ago. Is their +carriage waiting then?" + +"Yes. It is still there." + +Mrs. Damer hastened into the ladies' cloak-room, still half-incredulous. + +At her entrance Anne Carfax, clad in a white wrap that made her face look +ghastly, turned from the dying fire. + +"My dear Lady Carfax!" exclaimed Mrs. Damer. "I quite thought you left +ages ago. What is it? Is anything the matter?" + +The pale lips smiled. "No, nothing, thank you. I am only waiting for +my husband." + +"Ah! Then we are in the same plight. I am waiting for mine." Mrs. Damer +hastened to veil her solicitude, which was evidently unwelcome. She +caught up her cloak and began to fumble with it. The attendant had gone. + +"Let me!" said Anne, in her quiet voice, and took it from her. + +Her fingers touched Mrs. Damer's neck, and Mrs. Damer shivered audibly. +"Thank you, thank you! You are as cold as ice. Are you well wrapped up?" + +"Yes, quite. I am never very warm, you know. It is not my nature. Is Mr. +Damer ready? I hope you will not delay your departure on my account. Sir +Giles will not be long, I think." + +"We will send Nap Errol to find him," said Mrs. Damer. + +"Oh, no, thank you. That is quite unnecessary. Please do not trouble +about me. A few minutes more or less make little difference." + +The words came with the patience of deadly weariness. She was still +faintly smiling as she wound a scarf about Mrs. Damer's head. + +"I am quite ready, you see," she said. "I shall leave the moment +he appears." + +"My dear Lady Carfax, you have the patience of a saint. I am afraid +Phil does not find me so long-suffering." Mrs. Damer bustled back into +the hall. "Are you there, Nap? Do see if you can find Sir Giles. Poor +Lady Carfax is half-dead with cold and fit to drop with fatigue. Go and +tell him so." + +"Please do nothing of the sort," said Lady Carfax behind her. "No doubt +he will come when he is ready." + +Nap Errol looked from one to the other with swift comprehension in his +glance. "Let me put you into your carriage first, Mrs. Damer," he said, +offering his arm. "Your husband is busy for the moment--some trifling +matter. He begs you will not wait for him. I will drive him back in my +motor. I have to pass your way, you know." + +Mrs. Damer shook hands hurriedly with Lady Carfax and went with him. +There was something imperative about Nap just then. They passed out +together on to the baize-covered pavement, and Anne Carfax breathed a +faint sigh of relief. + +A few seconds later the Damer carriage was clattering down the street, +and Nap Errol was once more by her side. + +"Look here," he said. "Let me take you home in my motor first. No one +will know." + +She looked at him, her lips quivering a little as though they still tried +to smile. "Thank you very much," she said. "But--I think not." + +"No one will ever know," he reiterated. "I will just set you down at your +own door and go away. Come, Lady Carfax!" His dark eyes gazed straight +into her own, determined, dominating. The high cheek-bones and long, lean +jaw looked as though fashioned in iron. + +"Come!" he said again. + +She made a slight forward movement as if to yield, and then drew back +again. "Really, I had better wait and go with my husband," she said. + +"You had better not!" he said with emphasis. "I have just seen him. He is +in the smoke-room. I won't tell you what he is like. You probably know. +But if you are a wise woman you will leave him for Damer to look after, +and come with me." + +That decided her. She threw the hood of her cloak over her head and +turned in silence to the door. + +Errol paused to pull on an overcoat and then followed her on to the +steps. A large covered motor had just glided up. He handed her into it. +"By Jove, you are cold!" he said. + +She made no rejoinder. + +He stepped in beside her, after a word with the chauffeur, and +shut the door. + +Almost instantly they were in motion, and in another moment were shooting +forward swiftly down the long, ill-lighted street. + +Anne Carfax sank back in her corner and lay motionless. The glare of the +little electric lamp upon her face showed it white and tired. Her eyes +were closed. + +The man beside her sat bolt upright, his eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the +window in front, his jaw set grimly. He held the gloves he had worn all +the evening between his hands, and his fingers worked at them +unceasingly. He was rending the soft kid to ribbons. + +They left the desolate street behind and came into total darkness. + +Suddenly, but very quietly, Anne spoke. "This is very kind of you, +Mr. Errol." + +He turned towards her. She had opened her eyes to address him, but the +lids drooped heavily. + +"The kindness is on your side, Lady Carfax," he said deliberately. "If +you manage to inspire it in others, the virtue is still your own." + +She smiled and closed her eyes again. It was evident that she did not +desire to talk. + +He looked away from her, glanced at his torn gloves, and tossed them +impatiently from him. + +For ten minutes neither spoke. The car ran smoothly on through the night +like an inspired chariot of the gods. There was no sound of wheels. They +seemed to be borne on wings. + +For ten minutes the man sat staring stonily before him, rigid as a +statue, while the woman lay passive by his side. + +But at the end of that ten minutes the speed began to slacken. They came +softly to earth and stopped. + +Errol opened the door and alighted. "Have you a key?" he said, as he gave +her his hand. + +She stood above him, looking downwards half-dreamily as one emerging from +a deep slumber. + +"Do you know," she said, beginning to smile, "I thought that you were the +Knave of Diamonds?" + +"You've been asleep," he said rather curtly. + +She gave a slight shudder as the night air brought her back, and in a +moment, like the soft dropping of a veil, her reserve descended upon her. + +"I am afraid I have," she said, "Please excuse me. Are we already at the +Manor? Yes, I have the key." + +She took his hand and stepped down beside him. + +"Good night, Mr. Errol," she said. "And thank you." + +He did not offer to accompany her to the door. A light was burning +within, and he merely stood till he heard the key turn in the lock, then +stepped back into the motor and slammed it shut without response of any +sort to her last words. + +Anne Carfax was left wondering if her dream had been a cause of offense. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CAKE MORNING + + +"Oh, bother! It's cake morning." Dot Waring turned from the Rectory +breakfast-table with a flourish of impatience. "And I do so want to hear +all about it," she said. "You might have come down earlier, Ralph." + +"My good sister," said the rector's son, helping himself largely to bread +and honey, "consider yourself lucky that I have come down at all after +dancing half the night with Mrs. Damer, who is no light weight." + +"You didn't, Ralph! I am quite sure you didn't! I'm not going to believe +anything so absurd." Nevertheless she paused on her way to the door for +further details. + +"All right. I didn't," said Ralph complacently. "And Sir Giles didn't get +drunk as a lord and tumble about the ballroom, and yell comic--awfully +comic--songs, till someone hauled him off to the refreshment-room and +filled him up with whiskey till he could sing no more!" + +"Oh, Ralph! Not really! How utterly beastly! Was Lady Carfax there?" + +"She was at first, but she cleared out. I don't know where she went to." + +"Oh, poor Lady Carfax! How horrid for her! Ralph, I--I could kick +that man!" + +"So could I," said Ralph heartily, "if someone would kindly hold him for +me. He is a drunken blackguard, and if he doesn't end in an asylum, I +shall never express a medical opinion again." + +"P'r'aps he'll die of apoplexy first," said Dot vindictively. + +"Whatever he dies of," said Ralph, "I shall attend his funeral with the +greatest pleasure. Hadn't you better go and make that cake? I shall want +it by tea-time." + +"You are a pig!" the girl declared, pushing the sunny hair back from her +gay young face. "Isn't Bertie late this morning? Perhaps he isn't coming. +Dad won't be able to take him anyhow, for old Squinny is bad again and +sent for him in a hurry." + +"That wretched old humbug! That means more beef-tea, not approaching +dissolution. Old Squinny will never dissolve in the ordinary way." + +"Well, I must go." Dot reached the door and began to swing it to and +fro, gathering impetus for departure. "By the way, was Bertie there?" +she asked. + +"Bertie who?" + +"Bertie Errol, of course. Who else?" + +"There are plenty of Berties in the world," remarked Ralph, helping +himself again to bread and honey. "No, Bertram Errol was not present. But +Napoleon Errol was. It was he who so kindly shunted Mrs. Damer on to me. +_Nota bene_! Give Napoleon Errol a wide berth in future. He has the craft +of a conjurer and the subtlety of a serpent. I believe he is a Red +Indian, myself." + +"Oh, Ralph, he isn't! He is as white as you are." + +"He isn't white at all," Ralph declared, "outside or in. Outside he is +the colour of a mangold-wurzel, and inside he is as black as ink. You +will never get that cake made if you don't go." + +"Oh, bother!" Dot swung open the door for the last time, turned to +depart, and then exclaimed in a very different tone, "Why, Bertie, so +here you are! We were just talking of you." + +A straight, well-made youth, with a brown face that laughed +good-temperedly, was advancing through the hall. + +"Hullo!" he said, halting at the doorway. "Awfully nice of you! What were +you saying, I wonder? Hullo, Ralph! Only just down, you lazy beggar? +Ought to be ashamed of yourself." + +He stood, slapping his riding-boots with a switch, looking at Dot with +the direct eyes of good-fellowship. His eyes were clear and honest as +a child's. + +"Dad's away," said Dot. "He was sent for early this morning." + +"Is he though? That means a holiday. What shall we do?" + +"I don't know what you will do," said Dot. "I am going to bake cakes." + +"I'll come and bake cakes too," said Bertie promptly. "I'm rather a swell +at that. I can make fudge too, real American fudge, the most aristocratic +thing on the market. It's a secret, of course, but I'll let you into it, +if you'll promise not to tell." + +"How do you know I can keep a secret?" laughed Dot, leading the way to +the kitchen. + +"You would keep a promise," he said with conviction. + +"If I made one," she threw back. + +"I would trust you without," he declared. + +"Very rash of you! I wonder if you are as trustworthy as that." + +"My word is my bond--always," said Bertie. + +She turned and looked at him critically. "Yes, I think it is," she +admitted. "You are quite the honestest boy I ever met. They ought to have +called you George Washington." + +"You may if you like," said Bertie. + +She laughed--her own inexpressibly gay laugh. "All right, George! It +suits you perfectly. I always did think Bertie was a silly name. Why +didn't you go to the Hunt Ball last night?" + +Bertie's merry face sobered. "My brother wasn't so well yesterday. I was +reading to him half the night. He couldn't sleep, and Tawny Hudson is no +good for that sort of thing." + +The merriment went out of Dot's face too. It grew softer, older, more +womanly. "You are very good to your brother," she said. + +He frowned abruptly. "Good to him! Great Scot! Why, he's miles too good +for any of us. Don't ever class him with Nap or me! We're just ordinary +sinners. But he--he's a king." + +A queer little gleam that was not all mirth made Dot's eyes grow +brighter. "I like you for saying that," she said. + +"Why, of course I say it!" he protested. "It's true! He's the finest chap +in the world, all true gold and not a grain of dross. That's how it is we +all knock under to him. Even Nap does that, though he doesn't care a +tinker's curse for anyone else on this muddy little planet." + +"You are awfully fond of him, aren't you?" said Dot sympathetically. + +"Fond of Lucas! I'd die for him!" the boy declared with feeling. "He's +father and brother and friend to me. There isn't anything I wouldn't do +for him. Did you ever hear how he came to be a cripple?" + +"Never," said Dot. + +"He was knocked down by an electric car," Bertie said, rushing through +the story with headlong ardour, "trying to save his best girl's dog from +being run over. He did save it, but he was frightfully hurt--paralysed +for months. It's years ago now. I was only a little shaver at the time. +But I shall never forget it. He always was good to me, and I thought he +was done for." + +"And the girl?" asked Dot rather breathlessly. + +"Married an English nobleman," he rejoined, with a brevity that spoke +volumes. "I say, what about those cakes? Hadn't we better begin?" + +Dot turned her attention to the fire. "I should like to meet your +brother," she remarked. "I've never spoken to a real flesh-and-blood hero +in my life." + +"Nothing easier," said Bertie promptly. "Come over and have tea. Come +this afternoon, you and Ralph." + +But Dot hesitated in evident doubt. "I don't know what Dad would +say," she said. + +"Oh, rats! He wouldn't mind. And my mother would be delighted. Come early +and I'll show you the hunters. Nap has just bought a beauty. She's a +blood mare, black as ink." + +"Like Nap," said Dot absently; then in haste, "No, I didn't mean that. I +wasn't thinking." + +Bertie was looking at her shrewdly. "What do you know about Nap?" he +said. + +She coloured deeply. "Nothing, nothing whatever. I only know him +by sight." + +"And you don't like him?" + +"I--I think he looks rather wicked," she stammered. + +Bertie grunted. "Do you think I look wicked too?" + +"Of course I don't. No one could." + +He laughed. "That's all right. You can think what you like of Nap. +Everybody does. But even he is not all bad, you know." + +"I'm sure he isn't. But--but--" Desperately Dot turned from the fire and +faced him. "I've got to say it, Bertie," she said rather piteously. +"Please don't be offended. You know I--I'm young. I don't know many +people. And--and--though I would like to know your eldest brother +immensely, I think I won't come to Baronmead if Nap is there. My father +doesn't want me to meet him--unless I am obliged." + +She uttered the last words in evident distress. Bertie's face had grown +quite serious, even stern. He was looking at her with a directness which +for the first time in their acquaintance she found disconcerting. + +He did not speak for several seconds. At length, "How old are you?" he +said abruptly. + +"Eighteen," she murmured. + +He continued to look at her speculatively. "Well," he said at length, +speaking with something of a twang, "I guess your father knows what he's +about, but it beats me to understand why he has me here to study. I guess +I'd better shunt." + +"Oh, please don't!" she said quickly. "It isn't you at all. It's +only Nap." + +"Damn Nap!" said Bertie, with some fervour. "Oh, does that shock you? I +forgot you were a parson's daughter. Well, it may be your father is +right after all. Anyway, I shan't quarrel with him so long as he doesn't +taboo me too." + +"He won't do that," said Dot, with confidence. "He likes you." + +Bertie's good-looking face began to smile again. "Well, I'm not a +blackguard anyway," he said. "And I never shall be if you keep on being +kind to me. That's understood, is it? Then shake!" + +They shook, and Dot realised with relief that the difficult subject was +dismissed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIRST ENCOUNTER + + +It was a week after the Hunt Ball that Anne Carfax, sitting alone at tea +in her drawing-room before a blazing fire, was surprised by the sudden +opening of the door, and the announcement of old Dimsdale the butler, +"Mr. Nap Errol to see your ladyship!" + +She rose to meet him, her surprise in her face, and he, entering with +that light, half-stealthy tread of his, responded to it before his hand +touched hers. + +"I know my presence is unexpected, and my welcome precarious, but as none +of my friends have been able to give me any news of you, I determined to +chance my reception and come myself to inquire for your welfare." + +"You are very good," said Anne, but she spoke with a certain stateliness +notwithstanding. There was no pleasure in her eyes. + +Nap, however, was sublimely self-assured. "I am beginning to think I must +be," he said, "since you say so. For I know you to be strictly truthful." + +Anne made no response. She did not even smile. + +"I am in luck to find you alone," proceeded Nap, surveying her with bold +dark eyes that were nothing daunted by her lack of cordiality. + +"My husband will be in soon," she answered quietly. + +"I shall be delighted to make his acquaintance," said Nap imperturbably. +"Has he been hunting?" + +"Yes." Anne's tone was distant. She seemed to be unaware of the fact that +her visitor was still on his feet. + +But Nap knew no embarrassment. He stood on the hearth with his back to +the fire. "You ought to hunt," he said. "Why don't you?" + +"I do--occasionally," Anne said. + +"What's the good of that? You ought to regularly. There's nothing like +it. Say, Lady Carfax, why don't you?" He smiled upon her disarmingly. +"Are you wondering if I take one lump or two? I take neither, and no +milk, please." + +Against her will she faintly smiled. + +"I thought that was it," said Nap. "Why didn't you ask me? Are these +scones in the fender? May I offer you one?" + +He dropped upon his knees to pick up the dish, and in that attitude +humbly proffered it to her. + +She found it impossible to remain ungracious. She could only seat herself +at the tea-table and abandon the attempt. + +"Sit down and help yourself," she said. + +He pulled a large hassock to him and sat facing her. "Now we can be +sociable," he said. "Really, you know, you ought to hunt more often. I +have never seen you in the field once. What on earth do you do with +yourself?" + +"Many things," said Anne. + +"What things?" he persisted. + +"I help my husband to the best of my ability with the estate and try to +keep an eye on the poorest tenants. And then I practise the piano a good +deal. I haven't time for much besides." + +"I say, do you play?" said Nap, keenly interested. "I do myself, a +little, not the piano--the violin. Lucas likes it, or I suppose I should +have given it up long ago. But I generally have to manage without an +accompaniment. There is no one can accompany at our place. It's a bit +thin, you know, playing by yourself." + +Anne's face reflected his interest. "Tell me more about it," she said. +"What sort of music do you care for?" + +"Oh, anything, from Christmas carols to sonatas. I never play to please +myself, and Lucas has very varied tastes." + +"He is your elder brother?" questioned Anne. + +"Yes, and one of the best." Nap spoke with unwonted feeling. "He is +hopelessly crippled, poor chap, and suffers infernally. I often wonder +why he puts up with it. I should have shot myself long ago, had I been +in his place." + +"Perhaps he is a good man," Anne said. + +He shot her a keen glance. "What do you mean by a good man?" + +"I mean a man who does his duty without shirking." + +"Is that your ideal?" he said, "There are plenty of men that do that, and +yet their lives are anything but blameless." + +"Quite possibly," she agreed. "But if a man does his duty, he has not +lived in vain. It can be no man's duty to destroy himself." + +"And how would you define 'duty'?" said Nap. + +She let her eyes meet his for a moment. "I can only define it for +myself," she said. + +"Will you do so for my benefit?" he asked. + +A faint colour rose to her face. She looked past him into the fire. There +was a deep sadness about her lips as she made reply. + +"I have not been given much to do. I have to content myself with 'the +work that's nearest.'" + +Nap was watching her closely. "And if I did the same," he questioned in a +drawl that was unmistakably supercilious, "should I be a good man?" + +"I don't know what your capabilities are," she said. + +"I have vast capabilities for evil," he told her, with a cynical twist of +his thin-lipped mouth. + +She met his look again. "I am sorry," she said. + +"Are you really? But why? Doesn't the devil attract you? Honestly +now!" He leaned forward, staring straight at her, challenging her. "I +tell you frankly," he said, "I am not what you would call a good man. +But--the truth, mind!--would you like me any better if I were?" + +She smiled a little. There was undoubted fascination in the upturned face +with its fiery eyes and savage jaw. Perhaps the lips were cruel, but they +were not coarse. They were keenly sensitive. + +She did not answer him immediately, and during the pause his eyes never +flinched from hers. They were alive, glowing with insistence. + +"Yes," she said at length. "Quite honestly, I do prefer good men." + +"That wasn't exactly what I asked," said Nap, thrusting out his chin. + +"I think you are capable of drawing your own conclusions," she +answered gently. + +His look fell away from her. He began to munch scone with a +contemplative air. + +Anne gave him some tea, and he set it on the hearthrug between his +feet. The silence became lengthy. She was conscious of something in +the atmosphere that made her vaguely uneasy. Was it a cat he resembled, +crouching there in front of her? No, there was nothing domestic about +him though she had a feeling that he could purr when he was pleased. +Yes, there was undoubtedly something feline about him, a supple grace, +a noiselessness, a guile, that made her aware of the necessity for +caution in her dealings with him. This was a man of many +subtleties--she knew it instinctively--a man of tigerish temperament, +harmless as a kitten in sunshine, merciless as a fiend in storm. Yes, +he was certainly like a tiger, forcible even in repose. She had never +before encountered so dominant a personality. It affected her +strangely, half-attracting, half-repelling, arousing in her a sense of +antagonism that yet was not aversion. + +"I wish you would say all that out loud," said Nap. "You have such +interesting thoughts, it is really selfish of you not to express them." + +"Surely not," she said, "if you know what they are." + +He gave her an odd look as he lifted his tea-cup. + +"The Queen's jester is a privileged person," he said. "When the door of +her pleasaunce is closed to him he climbs up and looks over the wall." + +"Not always a discreet proceeding, I fear," Anne remarked. + +"Discretion, Lady Carfax, is but another term for decrepitude. I have +detected no symptoms of the disease at present." He drained his tea with +an arrogant gesture and handed the cup for more. "Which is the exact +reason why I have no intention of remaining on the top of the wall," he +said. "I will have a stronger dose this time, please." + +An unsteady hand began to fumble at the door, and Anne glanced up with a +start. The blood rose to her face. "I think it is my husband," she said, +in a low voice. + +Nap did not turn his head or answer. He sat motionless, still staring at +her, till the door began to open. Then, with a sudden, lithe movement, he +rose and kicked the hassock to one side. + +A big man in riding-dress tramped heavily into the room, and stopped in +the centre, peering before him under scowling brows. Not the kindest of +critics could have called Sir Giles Carfax handsome, though every feature +in his face was well formed. The blotchy complexion of the man and his +eyes of glaring malice marred him all too completely. He looked about +fifty, to judge by his iron-grey hair and moustache, but he might have +been less. He had immensely powerful shoulders that stooped a little. + +He continued to stand in the middle of the room and glare at the visitor +till Anne quietly bridged the gulf. + +"This is Mr. Nap Errol, Giles. Mr. Errol--my husband." + +She made the introduction without a tremor, but she kept her eyes +downcast as if she did not wish to see them meet. Perhaps she divined +that a gleam of supercilious humour flickered in Nap's eyes as he made +easy response. + +"I have been waiting for the pleasure of meeting you," he drawled. +"I dropped in on the chance, and Lady Carfax assured me you +wouldn't be long." + +Sir Giles scowled more heavily than before. He shot a malignant glance +at his wife. + +"Who in thunder made her so clever?" he growled. "And what did you want +to see me for? Have I ever met you before?" + +His voice was thick, the words somewhat difficult to distinguish. + +Nap's smile was unmistakably sardonic. "Many times," he said. "You nearly +rode over me on the last occasion. Doubtless the episode has escaped your +memory, but it made a more lasting impression upon mine." + +Sir Giles glared offensively, as if he deemed himself insulted. "I +remember," he said. "Your animal came down with you. You pushed in front +of me. But it was your own fault. You Americans never observe the rules +of sport. I'm always glad to see you come a cropper." + +"I am sure of it," said Nap politely. "It must gratify you immensely." + +Sir Giles uttered a brief, snarling laugh, and advanced abruptly to the +hearth. He towered above the slim American, but the latter did not appear +to shirk comparison with him. With his hands in his pockets he +nonchalantly opposed his insolence to the other man's half-tipsy tyranny. + +And Anne Carfax sat silent behind the tea-table and endured the encounter +with a mask-like patience that betrayed no faintest hint of what she +carried in her heart. + +"Well, what do you want to see me for?" Sir Giles demanded, with a +ferocious kick at the coals. + +Nap was quite ready with his answer. "I am really here on my brother's +behalf. There is a scheme afoot, as no doubt you know, for the building +of a Town Hall. My brother considers that the lord of the Manor"--he +bowed with thinly-veiled irony--"should have first say in the matter. But +I am at liberty to assure you that should you be in favour of the scheme +he is ready to offer you his hearty support." + +Sir Giles heard him out with lowering brows. It did not improve his +temper to see Anne's eyes flash sudden interrogation at Nap's serenely +smiling countenance, though he did not suspect the meaning of her glance. + +"I am not in favour of the scheme," he said shortly, as Nap ended. + +Nap slightly raised his brows. "No? I understood otherwise." + +The blood mounted to Sir Giles's forehead. "Either you were misinformed +or your intelligence is at fault," he said, with that in his voice that +was so nearly an open insult that, for a second, even Nap looked +dangerous. + +Then quite quietly, without raising her eyes, Anne intervened. "I think +you ought to explain to Mr. Errol, Giles, that you have only recently +changed your mind." + +Sir Giles rounded on her malignantly. "What the devil has that to do with +it, or with you, for that matter? Do you think I don't know my own mind? +Do you think--" + +"I know exactly what Lady Carfax thinks," cut in Nap, moving deliberately +so that he stood directly between Sir Giles and the tea-table. His back +was turned to Anne, and he kept it so. "And in the main, I agree with +her, though my sentiments are a little stronger than hers. I'll tell you +exactly what they are some day. I think you would be interested, or at +least not bored. But with regard to this Town Hall suggestion, what's +wrong with it, anyway? Couldn't you come over and talk it out with my +brother? He isn't well enough just now to come to you." + +The coolness of this speech took effect. Sir Giles glared for a few +moments till the speaker's steady regard became too much for him. Then, +with a lurching movement, he turned away. + +"No, I won't visit your brother! Why the deuce should I? Do you think I +belong to the rag, tag, and bobtail, that'll mix with the very scum of +society so long as there's money about? Do you think I'd lower myself to +associate with fellows like you?" + +"I guess you'd find it difficult," drawled Nap. + +He still stood with his back to the tea-table. He seemed to have +forgotten the woman who sat so rigid behind him. His fingers drummed a +careless tattoo upon the table-edge. He was unquestionably master of the +situation, and that without much apparent effort. + +And Sir Giles knew it, knew himself to be worsted, and that in his +wife's presence. He glanced at her through eyes narrowed to evil slits. +Her very impassivity goaded him. It seemed in some fashion to express +contempt. With violence he strode to the bell and pealed it vigorously. + +On the instant Nap turned. "So long, Lady Carfax!" + +She looked up at him. Her lips said nothing, but for that instant her +eyes entreated, and his eyes made swift response. + +He was smiling with baffling good humour as he turned round to Sir Giles. + +"Good-bye, sir! Delighted to have met you. I'll give your message to my +brother. It'll amuse him." + +He departed without a backward glance as the servant opened the door, +elaborately deaf to Sir Giles's half-strangled reply that he might go to +the devil and take his brother with him. + +He left dead silence in the room behind him, but the moment that the +clang of the front door told of his final exit the storm burst. + +Sir Giles, livid, stammering with rage, strode up and down and cursed the +departed visitor in lurid language, cursed the errand that had brought +him, and rated his wife for admitting him. + +"I will not know these impertinent, opulent Americans!" was the burden of +his maledictions. "As for that damned, insolent bounder, I will never +have him in the house again. Understand that! I know him. I've heard +Shirley talk of him. The man's a blackguard. And if I ever catch him +alone in your company after this, I'll thrash him--do you hear?--I'll +thrash him! So now you know what to expect!" + +It was at this point that Anne rose, passed quietly, with the bearing of +a queen, down the long room, and without a single word or glance went out +and closed the door very softly behind her. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE MEET + + +On one occasion, and one only, in the whole year were the gates of +the Manor thrown open to all comers, opulent Americans and +impecunious Britons alike. And this was when, in accordance with a +custom that had been observed from time immemorial, the foxhounds met +upon the Manor lawn. + +It was then that Sir Giles, who cursed this obligatory hospitality for +weeks beforehand, emerged with a smile as fixed as his scowl, shook hands +with the select few whom he deigned to number among his acquaintances and +pointedly ignored the many who did not enjoy this privilege. + +With old Dimsdale the butler rather than with his master rested the +honours of the house, and old Dimsdale did his part nobly; so nobly that +Major Shirley was heard to remark more than once that it was a pity he +and Sir Giles couldn't change places. It was the great day of Dimsdale's +year, and his was the proud task to see that none of the guests were +neglected. + +Anne usually rode to hounds on this occasion. Tall and stately, clad in +the conventional black riding-habit that only added grace to her severity +of outline, she moved among her husband's guests. And even those of them +who, like Major Shirley, resented that queenliness which was an inborn +part of her very nature, were fain to admit that she filled her position +as lady of the Manor with striking success. Though she had withdrawn +herself more and more of late from the society of the neighbourhood, she +acted the part of hostess with unfailing graciousness. On foot she moved +among the throng, greeting everyone she knew. + +Little Dot Waring, standing in the background with her brother on a +certain misty morning in January marked her progress with looks of loving +admiration. Lady Carfax's mount, a powerful grey with nervous ears and +gleaming eyes, was being held in unwilling subjection close to them. + +"Be ready to mount her when she comes this way, Ralph," Dot whispered, as +the tall figure drew nearer. + +But the honour of mounting Lady Carfax was not for Ralph. A man on +a black mare--a slight man with high cheek-bones and an insolent +bearing--was threading his way towards them through the crowd. The mare, +like the grey, was restive, and her rider swore at her whimsies as he +came. + +Meeting Dot's frank regard, he checked himself and raised his hat with a +courtesy half-instinctive. + +Dot stared, coloured, and very slightly bowed. + +Ralph sniggered. "Let yourself in for it that time, my child! Here comes +Bertie to effect a formal introduction." + +"Bertie won't introduce him," she said quickly. + +Bertie, looking very handsome and stalwart, was already close to them. He +leaned down from the saddle to shake hands. + +"Are you following on foot? I wish I was. Never thought of it till +this moment." + +"I would much rather follow on horseback," Dot declared, looking as if +she did not believe him. + +He laughed. "I'll take you in front of me if you'll come." + +"No. I shouldn't like that," said Dot very decidedly. + +"How can you possibly know till you try?" + +Dot looked up at him with the sunshine in her clear eyes. "How do you +know that you would prefer to follow the hounds on foot? I don't suppose +you ever have." + +"How do I know?" laughed Bertie. "Because I should be in your company, of +course. Isn't that reason enough?" + +"Idiot!" said Dot tersely. + +"Minx!" said Bertie. + +She flushed, looked angry for a moment, and then in spite of herself +dimpled into a smile. "Bertie, you're a beast! Say that again if you +dare!" + +"I daren't," said Bertie. + +"No, I thought not. Now apologise!" + +"Oh, not now! Not in public!" he pleaded. "I'll drop in this evening and +you can shrive me before I go to bed." + +"I shan't be at home," said Dot, with her head in the air. + +"Oh, yes, you will. Anyway, I'm bound to catch you if I wait long +enough." Bertie spoke with cheery assurance. "Hullo! What do you want?" + +His expression altered as his glance fell upon his brother, who had just +come to his side. He looked inclined to scowl. + +But Nap was not apparently desiring an introduction to the rector's +daughter. "Hold the mare a minute, will you?" he said. + +Bertie complied and he swung himself to the ground. + +Lady Carfax was coming towards them and he went to meet her. + +Her grey eyes smiled a friendly welcome. "I was just wondering if you +were here." + +He bowed low. "I am honoured indeed to be in your thoughts for a +single instant." + +"I hope I do not forget my friends so easily," she said. "Oh, here are +some more of them! Excuse me for a moment." + +She went straight to Dot, shook hands with her and her brother, and stood +chatting for a few seconds. + +Nap remained close behind her, and after a little she turned to +Include him in the group. "Have you ever met this Mr. Errol. Dot? Mr. +Errol--Miss Waring!" + +Dot bowed again with a scarlet countenance, but the next instant a +friendly inspiration delivered her from the moment's awkwardness. + +"And you don't know Bertie Errol, do you, Lady Carfax?" she said eagerly. +"Let me introduce him. He studies with Dad, you know." + +"When he isn't hunting, or paper-chasing, or--baking cakes," said Bertie. +"He's such a nice boy, Lady Carfax. He can do almost anything. I'm sure +you'll like him!" + +Dot laughed and protested. "He isn't a bit nice, and he isn't clever +either, though he thinks he is. I don't believe he learns anything with +Dad. They study natural history most of the time." + +"Harmless, anyway!" commented Nap, with a sneer. + +"Yes, quite harmless," assented Bertie, looking straight at him. + +"And very interesting, no doubt," said Lady Carfax, turning towards +her mount. + +Ralph moved to assist her, but Nap pushed before him. "My job, I think," +he drawled, with that in his face which made the English youth draw +sullenly back. + +"Cad!" whispered Dot fiercely. + +And Bertie from his perch above her laughed through clenched teeth. + +In a few minutes more the hunt was off. The whole crowd streamed briskly +away, hounds leading, horses, motors, carriages, and the usual swarm of +pedestrians, following in promiscuous array. + +The sun shone through a mist. The weather was perfect for hunting, but +looked as if it might end in rain. + +Sir Giles rode with the master. He seemed in better spirits than usual. +His customary scowl had lifted. + +His wife rode nearer the end of the procession with Nap Errol next to +her. His brother was immediately behind them, a very decided frown on his +boyish face, a frown of which in some occult fashion Nap must have been +aware, for as they reached a stretch of turf and the crowd widened out, +he turned in the saddle. + +"Get on ahead, Bertie! I can't stand you riding at my heels." + +Bertie looked at him as if he had a retort ready, but he did not utter +it. With tightened lips he rode past and shot ahead. + +Nap smiled a little. "That young puppy is the best of the Errol bunch," +he said. "But he hasn't been licked enough. It's not my fault. It's my +brother's." + +"He looks a nice boy," Anne said. + +Nap's smile became supercilious. "He is a nice boy, Lady Carfax. But nice +boys don't always make nice men, you know. They turn into prigs +sometimes." + +Anne diverted the subject with an instinctive feeling that it was one +upon which they might not agree. + +"There is a considerable difference between you?" she asked. + +"Eight years," said Nap. "I am thirty, Lucas five years older. Most +people take me for the eldest of the lot." + +"I wonder why?" said Anne. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "It is not really surprising, is it? Lucas has +been on the shelf for the past ten years and I"--he glanced at her +shrewdly--"have not!" + +"Oh!" said Anne, and asked no more. + +For the first time the definite question arose in her mind as to whether +in admitting this man to her friendship she had made a mistake. He had a +disquieting effect upon her, she was forced to acknowledge. + +Yet as they drifted apart in the throng she knew with unalterable +conviction that the matter did not rest with her. From the outset the +choice had not been hers. + +He had entered the gates of her lonely citadel on the night of the Hunt +Ball, and though she was by no means sure that she liked him there, she +fully realised that it was too late now to try to bar him out. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FALL + + +They found a fox after some delay in a copse on the side of a hill, and +the run that followed scattered even Anne's sedateness to the winds. +Something of youth, something of girlishness, yet dwelt within her and +bounded to the surface in response to the wild excitement of the chase. + +The grey went like the wind. He and the black mare that Nap Errol rode +led the field, a distinction that Anne had never sought before, and which +she did not greatly appreciate on this occasion. For when they killed in +a chalky hollow, after half-an-hour's furious galloping across country +with scarcely a check, she dragged her animal round with a white, set +face and forced him from the scene. + +Nap followed her after a little and found her fumbling at a gate +into a wood. + +"I've secured the brush for you," he began. Then, seeing her face, "What +is it? You look sick." + +"I feel sick," Anne said shakily. + +He opened the gate for her, and followed her through. They found +themselves alone, separated from the rest of the hunt by a thick +belt of trees. + +"Do you mean to say you have never seen a kill before?" he said. + +"Never at close quarters," murmured Anne, with a shudder. + +He rode for a little in silence. At length, "I'm sorry you didn't like +being in at the death," he said. "I thought you would be pleased." + +"Pleased!" she said, and shuddered again. + +"Personally," said Nap, "I enjoy a kill." + +Anne's face expressed horror. + +"Yes," he said recklessly, "I am like that. I hunt to kill. It is my +nature." A red gleam shone suddenly in his fiery eyes. He looked at her +aggressively. "What do you hunt for anyway?" he demanded. + +"I don't think I shall hunt any more," she said. + +"Oh, nonsense, Lady Carfax! That's being ultrasqueamish," he protested. +"You mustn't, you know. It's bad for you." + +"I can't help it," she said. "I never realised before how cruel it is." + +"Of course it's cruel," said Nap. "But then so is everything, so is life. +Yet you've got to live. We were created to prey on each other." + +"No, no!" she said quickly, for his words hurt her inexplicably. "I take +the higher view." + +"I beg your pardon," said Nap, in the tone of one refusing a discussion. + +She turned to him impulsively. "Surely you do too!" she said, and there +was even a note of pleading in her voice. + +Nap's brows met suddenly. He turned his eyes away. "I am nothing but an +animal," he told her rather brutally. "There is nothing spiritual about +me. I live for what I can get. When I get the chance I gorge. If I have a +soul at all, it is so rudimentary as to be unworthy of mention." + +In the silence that followed he looked at her again with grim +comprehension. "P'r'aps you don't care for animals," he suggested +cynically. "To change the subject, do you know we are leaving the +hunt behind?" + +She reined in somewhat reluctantly. "I suppose we had better go back." + +"If your majesty decrees," said Nap. + +He pulled the mare round and stood motionless, waiting for her to pass. +He sat arrogantly at his ease. She could not fail to note that his +horsemanship was magnificent. The mare stood royally as though she bore +a king. The man's very insignificance of bulk seemed to make him the +more superb. + +"Will you deign to lead the way?" he said. + +And Anne passed him with a vague sense of uneasiness that almost +amounted to foreboding. For it seemed to her as if for those few moments +he had imposed his will upon hers, had without effort overthrown all +barriers of conventional reserve, and had made her acknowledge in him +the mastery of man. + +Rejoining the hunt, she made her first deliberate attempt to avoid him, +an attempt that was so far successful that for the next hour she saw +nothing of him beyond casual glimpses. She did not join her husband, for +he resented her proximity in the hunting-field. + +They drew blank in a wood above the first kill, but finally found after +considerable delay along a stubbly stretch of ground bordering Baronmead, +a large estate that the eldest Errol had just bought. The fox headed +straight for the Baronmead woods and after him streamed the hunt +pell-mell along a stony valley. + +It was not Anne's intention to be in at a second death that day, and she +deliberately checked the grey's enthusiasm when he would have borne her +headlong through the scampering crowd. To his indignation, instead of +pursuing the chase in the valley, she headed him up the hill. He +protested with vehemence, threatening to rebel outright, but Anne was +determined, and eventually she had her way. Up the hill they went. + +It was a scramble to reach the top, for the ground was steep and sloppy, +but on the summit of the ridge progress was easier. She gave the grey the +rein and he carried her forward at a canter. From here she saw the last +of the horsemen below her sweep round the curve towards Baronmead, and +the hubbub growing fainter in the distance told her that the hounds were +already plunging through the woods. Ahead of her the ridge culminated in +a bare knoll whence it was evident that she could overlook a considerable +stretch of country. She urged her animal towards it. + +The mist was thickening in the valley, and it had begun to drizzle. The +watch on her wrist said two o'clock, and she determined to turn her face +homewards as soon as she had taken this final glimpse. + +The grey, snorting and sweating, stumbled up the slippery ascent. He was +plainly disgusted with his rider's tactics. They arrived upon the summit, +and Anne brought him to a standstill. But though she still heard vague +shoutings below her the mist had increased so much in the few minutes +they had taken over the ascent that she could discern nothing. Her horse +was winded after the climb, however, and she remained motionless to give +him time to recover. The hubbub was dying away, and she surmised that the +fox had led his pursuers out on the farther side of the woods. She +shivered as the chill damp crept about her. A feeling of loneliness that +was almost physical possessed her. She half wished that she had not +forsaken the hunt after all. + +Stay! Was she quite alone? Out of the clinging, ever-thickening curtain +there came sounds--the sounds of hoofs that struggled upwards, of an +animal's laboured breathing, of a man's voice that encouraged and swore +alternately. + +Her heart gave a sudden sharp throb. She knew that voice. Though she had +only met the owner thereof three times she had come to know it rather +well. Why had he elected to come that way, she asked herself? He almost +seemed to be dogging her steps that day. + +Impulse urged her to strike in another direction before he reached +her. She did not feel inclined for another _tete-a-tete_ with Nap +Errol just then. + +She tapped the grey smartly with her switch, more smartly than she +intended, for he started and plunged. At the same instant there broke out +immediately below them a hubbub of yelling and baying that was like the +shrieking of a hundred demons. It rose up through the fog as from the +mouth of an invisible pit, and drove the grey horse clean out of his +senses. He reared bolt upright in furious resistance to his rider's will, +pawed the air wildly, and being brought down again by a sharp cut over +the ears, flung out his heels in sheer malice and bolted down the hill, +straight for that pandemonium of men and hounds. If the pleasures of the +hunt failed to attract his mistress, it was otherwise with him, and he +meant to have his fling in spite of her. + +For the first few seconds of that mad flight Anne scarcely attempted to +check his progress. She was taken by surprise and was forced to give all +her attention to keeping in the saddle. + +The pace was terrific. The scampering hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the +ground at all. Like shadows they fled through the rising mist. It struck +chill upon her face as they swooped downwards. She seemed to be plunging +into an icy, bottomless abyss. + +And then like a dagger, stabbing through every nerve, came fear, a +horror unspeakable of the depth she could not see, into which she was +being so furiously hurled. She was clinging to the saddle, but she +made a desperate effort to drag the animal round. It was quite +fruitless. No woman's strength could have availed to check that +headlong gallop. He swerved a little, a very little, in answer, that +was all, and galloped madly on. + +And then--all in a moment it came, a moment of culminating horror more +awful than anything she had ever before experienced--the ground fell +suddenly away from the racing feet. A confusion of many lights danced +before her eyes--a buzzing uproar filled her brain--she shot forward +into space.... + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE RIDE HOME + + +Sir Giles was in a decidedly evil temper as he rode home from the hunt in +the soaking rain that afternoon. The second fox had led them miles out of +the way, and they had not been rewarded by a kill. The brute had eluded +them, profiting by the downpour that had washed away the scent. So Sir +Giles, having solaced himself several times with neat brandy from the +large silver flask without which he never rode abroad, was in anything +but a contented mood with the world in general and his own luck in +particular. Dusk had long descended when at length he turned in at his +own gates. He had given up urging his jaded animal, being too jaded +himself for the effort. But, hearing a clatter of hoofs on the drive +before him, he did rouse himself to holler into the darkness, supposing +that his wife was ahead of him. If it were she, she was later in +returning than was her wont, but no answer came back to him, and he did +not repeat his call. After all, why should he hail her? He did not want +her company, Heaven knew. That stately demeanour of hers which once had +attracted him generally inspired in him a savage sense of resentment +nowadays. There were times when he even suspected her of despising +him--him, the lord of the Manor, who had given her all she possessed in +the world! + +He swore a furious oath under his breath as he rode. The darkness ahead +of him was all pricked by tiny red sparks, that glanced and flashed like +fireflies whichever way he looked. He rubbed his eyes and they departed, +only to swarm again a little farther on. The rain had soaked him to the +skin. He shivered and swore again as he fumbled for his flask. + +The fiery gleams faded wholly away as the raw spirit warmed his blood and +revived his brain. He drew a breath of relief. Again he heard the sound +of a horse's feet some distance in front. They seemed to fall unevenly, +as though the animal were lame. Could it be the grey, he asked himself? +If so, why had Anne not answered his call? She must have heard him. He +ground his teeth. It was like her habitual impudence to ignore him thus. +He gathered himself together and sent a furious bellow into the darkness. + +But there came back no reply. The hoofs ahead seemed to quicken into a +shambling trot, that was all. And after a little he heard them no more. + +She had reached the house then, and gone within into light and comfort, +and again feverishly he execrated her for not waiting for him, the cold +and the rain and the dark notwithstanding. Again fitfully he began to +see those leaping points of light; but it was only here and there. +Whenever he focussed his attention upon them they eluded him. For these +also he held his wife in some fashion responsible. What did she mean by +leaving him thus? How dared she enter the house that was his while he +was still groping without? He believed that she would shut his own door +against him if she dared. He was sure she hated him, as he hated her--as +he hated her! + +And then--suddenly a strange thing happened. Suddenly, clear-cut as a +cameo before his fevered vision, there arose against the dripping +darkness his wife's face. Pale and pure as the face of a saint, it shone +before him like a star. There was no reproach in the level eyes; there +was no contempt. But they looked through him, they looked beyond him, and +saw him not. + +A violent tremor went through him, a nameless, unspeakable dread. The +curses died upon his lips. He stared and stared again. + +And while he stared, the vision faded before his eyes into nothingness. +He was alone once more in the darkness and the drenching rain; alone with +a little gibing voice that seemed to come from within and yet was surely +the voice of a devil jeering a devil's tattoo in time to his horse's +hoof-beats, telling him he was mad, mad, mad! + +Three minutes later he rode heavily into his own stable-yard. + +A group of servants scattered dumbly before him as he appeared. The glare +of lights dazzled him, but he fancied they looked at him strangely. He +flung an oath at the groom who stepped forward to take his horse. + +"What are you staring at? What's the matter?" + +The man murmured something unintelligible. + +Sir Giles dismounted and scowled around. His limbs were stiff and not +over steady. + +"What's the matter with you all?" he growled. "You look like a crowd of +death's heads. Hullo! What's this?" + +He had caught sight of something he had not seen before, something that +sent him striding furiously forward. For there in the centre of the +yard, standing huddled on three legs, was the grey horse his wife had +ridden. Limp and draggled, plastered with mud and foam, with a great +streaming gash on the shoulder, and head hanging down in utter +exhaustion, stood the grey. + +"What's this?" demanded Sir Giles again. "Where's her ladyship?" + +A shudder seemed to run through the assembled men. There was a moment's +silence. Then old Dimsdale, the butler, who was standing in the doorway +that led to the servants' quarters, stumped forward and made reply. + +"The animal's come home alone, Sir Giles." + +"What?" thundered his master. + +The old man faced him with respectful firmness. No one had ever seen +Dimsdale agitated. + +"As I said, Sir Giles," he answered, with a certain deferential +obstinacy. "The animal's come back alone." + +"Only just come in, sir," chimed in a groom. "We was just beginning to +wonder when he came limping in in this state. Looks as if her ladyship +had met with a accident." + +Sir Giles rounded upon him with a violence that brought his surmisings to +an abrupt end. Then, having worked off the first heat of his fury, he +turned again to Dimsdale. + +"What the devil is to be done? I never saw her after the first kill." + +"And where might that be, Sir Giles?" questioned Dimsdale. + +"Up Baronmead way. It was hours ago." + +Dimsdale considered. "Shall we send and make inquiries at Baronmead, +Sir Giles?" + +"No, I'm damned if I do!" said Sir Giles. + +Dimsdale considered again. "Was her ladyship riding with anyone in +particular?" he asked next. + +"No, I don't think so. Stay! I believe I saw that Errol bounder talking +to her--the one who was here the other day. But I forget when. +Anyhow"--his voice rising again--"I won't have any traffic with them. +I've said I won't, and I won't!" + +Dimsdale grunted. "Seems to me the only thing to do, Sir Giles. You can't +leave her lady ship to die under a hedge maybe, and not do anything to +find her." + +He spoke very deliberately, looking straight into his master's bloodshot +eyes as he did so. + +"It wouldn't be hardly right, Sir Giles," he pointed out gravely. "It's +likely that young Mr. Errol will be able to give us a clue, and we can't +leave any stone unturned, being such a serious matter. I'll send on my +own responsibility if you like, Sir Giles. But send we must." + +The bystanders glanced uneasily at one another in the silence that +followed this bold speech. The old butler's temerity was unheard of. Not +one among them would have dared thus to withstand the master to his face. +They waited, nervously expectant, for the vials of wrath to descend. + +Old Dimsdale waited too, still firmly watching Sir Giles. If he felt any +anxiety on his own account, however, it was not apparent. Nor did he +display any relief when the unpleasant tension passed and Sir Giles with +a shrug turned away from him. + +"Oh, go your own way, and be damned to you! I don't care what you do. +Don't stand gaping there, you fools! Get to your work! Better send for +the vet. Can't afford to have a valuable animal spoilt. Dimsdale, take +some brandy and hot water up to my room at once, before you do anything +else. Do you hear?" + +And with that he tramped within, leaving an atmosphere of mingled relief +and indignation behind him. + +But if his words were callous, the soul of the man was far from easy as +he mounted to his room. He flung himself into the nearest chair when he +arrived there and sat with eyes fixed sullenly before him. He ought to go +in search of her, of course, but he was powerless. His brain was a +smouldering furnace in which anxiety and anger strove luridly for the +mastery. But through it all he sat there torpidly staring. His body felt +as though it were weighted with leaden fetters. + +He heard a step in the passage, but did not turn his head. Someone +knocked discreetly. He heard, but he took no notice. The door opened +softly, and old Dimsdale entered. + +"We have news, Sir Giles." + +Sir Giles neither looked at him nor spoke. He continued to glare heavily +into space. + +Dimsdale paused beside him. "A messenger has just come from Baronmead in +their motor, Sir Giles," he said, speaking very distinctly. "Her ladyship +has had a fall, and has been taken there. Mr. Errol begs that you will go +back in the motor, as her ladyship's condition is considered serious." + +He stopped. Sir Giles said nothing whatever. + +"The messenger is waiting, Sir Giles." + +Still no response of any sort. + +Dimsdale waited a moment, then very respectfully he bent and touched his +master's shoulder. + +"Sir Giles!" + +Sir Giles turned slowly at last, with immense effort it seemed. He +glowered at Dimsdale for a space. Then, "Bring some brandy and water," he +said, "hot!" + +"But the messenger, Sir Giles!" + +"What?" Sir Giles glared a moment longer, then as anger came uppermost, +the smouldering furnace leapt into sudden seething flame. "Tell him to go +to the devil!" he thundered. "And when you've done that, bring me some +brandy and water--hot!" + +As Dimsdale departed upon his double errand he dropped back into his +former position, staring dully before him, under scowling brows. + +When Dimsdale returned he was sunk in the chair asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE + + +"Hullo, Lucas! Can I come in?" + +Nap Errol stood outside his brother's door, an impatient frown on his +face, his hand already fidgeting at the handle. + +"Come in, old chap," drawled back a kindly voice. + +He entered with an abruptness that seemed to denote agitation. + +The room was large and brilliantly lighted. In an easy chair by the fire +the eldest Errol was reclining, while his valet, a huge man with the +features of an American Indian half-breed and fiery red hair, put the +finishing touches to his evening dress. + +Nap approached the fire with his usual noiseless tread despite the fact +that he was still in riding boots. + +"Be quick, Hudson!" he said. "We don't want you." + +Hudson rolled a nervous eye at him and became clumsily hasty. + +"Take your time," his master said quietly. "Nap, my friend, hadn't you +better dress?" + +Nap stopped before the fire and pushed it with his foot. "I am not going +to dine," he said. + +Lucas Errol said no more. He lay still in his chair with his head back +and eyes half-closed, a passive, pathetic figure with the shoulders of a +strong man and the weak, shrunken limbs of a cripple. His face was quite +smooth. It might have belonged to a boy of seventeen save for the eyes, +which were deeply sunken and possessed the shrewd, quizzical +intelligence of age. + +He lay quite motionless as though he were accustomed to remain for hours +in one position. Hudson the valet tended him with the reverence of a +slave. Nap fell to pacing soundlessly to and fro, awaiting the man's exit +with what patience he could muster. + +"You can go now, Tawny," the elder Errol drawled at last. "I will ring +when I want you. Now, Boney, what is it? I wish you would sit down." + +There was no impatience in the words, but his brows were slightly drawn +as he uttered them, + +Nap, turning swiftly, noted the fact. "You are not so well to-night?" + +"Sit down," his brother repeated gently. "How is Lady Carfax?" + +Nap sat down with some reluctance. He looked as if he would have +preferred to prowl. + +"She is still unconscious, and likely to remain so. The doctor thinks +very seriously of her." + +"Her husband has been informed?" + +"Her husband," said Nap from between his teeth, "has been informed, and +he declines to come to her. That's the sort of brute he is." + +Lucas Errol made no comment, and after a moment Nap continued: + +"It is just as well perhaps. I hear he is never sober after a day's +sport. And I believe she hates the sight of him if the truth were +told--and small wonder!" + +There was unrestrained savagery in the last words. Lucas turned his head +and looked at him thoughtfully. + +"You know her rather well?" he said. + +"Yes." Nap's eyes, glowing redly, met his with a gleam of defiance. + +"You have known her for long?" The question was perfectly quiet, uttered +in the tired voice habitual to this man who had been an invalid for +almost the whole of his manhood. + +Yet Nap frowned as he heard it. "I don't know," he said curtly. "I don't +estimate friendships by time." + +Lucas said no more, but he continued to look at his brother with +unvarying steadiness till at length, as if goaded thereto, Nap +spoke again. + +"We are friends," he said, "no more, no less. You all think me a +blackguard, I know. It's my speciality, isn't it?" He spoke with +exceeding bitterness. "But in this case you are wrong. I repeat--we +are friends." + +He said it aggressively; his tone was almost a challenge, but the elder +Errol did not appear to notice. + +"I have never thought you a blackguard, Boney," he said quietly. + +Nap's thin lips smiled cynically. "You have never said it." + +"I have never thought it." There was no contradicting the calm assertion. +It was not the way of the world to contradict Lucas Errol. "And I know +you better than a good many," he said. + +Nap stirred restlessly and was silent. + +Lucas turned his eyes from him and seemed to fall into a reverie. +Suddenly, however, he roused himself. + +"What does the doctor say about her?" + +Nap frowned. "He says very little. After the manner of his tribe, he is +afraid to commit himself; thinks there may be this injury or there may be +that, but says definitely nothing. I shall get someone down from town +to-morrow. I'd go tonight, only--" he broke off, hammering impotently +with his clenched fist on the arm of his chair. "I must be at hand +to-night," he said, after a moment, controlling himself. "The mater has +promised to call me if there is any change. You see," he spoke +half-apologetically, "she might feel kind of lonely waking up in a crowd +of strangers, and mine is the only face she knows." + +Silence followed the words. Lucas had closed his eyes, and there was +nothing in his face to indicate the trend of his thoughts. + +Nap sat with his face to the fire, and stared unblinkingly into the red +depths. There was no repose in his attitude, only the tension of +suppressed activity. + +Softly at length his brother's voice came through the silence. "Why not +dine, dear fellow, while you are waiting? You will do no good to anyone +by starving yourself." + +Nap looked round. "In Heaven's name, don't talk to me of eating!" he +said savagely. "You don't know what I've been through." Again he paused +to control himself, then added in a lower tone, "I thought she was dead, +you know." + +"It was you who picked her up?" Lucas asked. + +"Yes. There was no one else near." He spoke with feverish rapidity, as +though he found speaking a relief. "It was the old chalk-pit. You know +the place--or p'r'aps you don't. It's a ten-foot drop. The brute went +clean over, and he must have rolled on her or kicked her getting up." He +drew a sharp breath between his teeth. "When I found her she was lying +all crumpled up. I thought her back was broken at first." + +A sudden shudder assailed him. He repressed it fiercely. + +"And then, you know, it was foggy. I couldn't leave her. I was +afraid of losing my bearings. And so I just had to wait--Heaven +knows how long--till one of the keepers heard me shouting, and went +for help. And all that time--all that time--I didn't know whether +she was alive or dead." + +His voice sank to a hard whisper. He got up and vigorously poked the +fire. + +Lucas Errol endured the clatter for several seconds in silence: +then, "Boney," he said, "since you are feeling energetic, you might +lend me a hand." + +Nap laid down the poker instantly. "I am sorry, old fellow. I forgot. Let +me ring for Hudson." + +"Can't you help me yourself?" Lucas asked. + +Nap hesitated for a second; then stooped in silence to give the required +assistance. Lucas Errol, with a set face, accepted it, but once on his +feet he quitted Nap's support and leaned upon the mantelpiece to wipe +his forehead. + +"I knew I should hurt you," Nap said uneasily. + +The millionaire forced a smile that was twisted in spite of him. "Never +mind me!" he said. "It is your affairs that trouble me just now, not my +own. And, Boney, if you don't have a meal soon, you'll be making a big +fool of yourself and everyone will know it." + +The very gentleness of his speech seemed to make the words the more +emphatic. Nap raised no further protest. + +"Go and have it right now," his brother said. + +"And--in case I don't see you again--goodnight!" + +He held out his hand, still leaning against the mantelpiece. His eyes, +blue and very steady, looked straight into Nap's. So for a second or +two he held him while Nap, tight-lipped, uncompromising, looked +straight back. + +Then, "Good-night," Lucas said again gravely, and let him go. + +Yet for an instant longer Nap lingered as one on the verge of speech. But +nothing came of it. He apparently thought better--or worse--of the +impulse, and departed light-footed in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE HAND OF A FRIEND + + +What had happened to her? Slowly, with a sensation of doubt that seemed +to weigh her down, Anne rose to the surface of things, and looked once +more upon the world that had rushed so giddily away from her and left her +spinning through space. + +She was horribly afraid during those first few minutes, afraid with a +physical, overwhelming dread. She seemed to be yet falling, falling +through emptiness to annihilation. And as she fell she caught the sounds +of other worlds, vague whisperings in the dark. She was sinking, sinking +fast into a depth unfathomable, where no worlds were. + +And then--how it came to her she knew not, for she was powerless to help +herself--out of the chaos and the awful darkness a hand reached out and +grasped her own; a hand strong and vital that gripped and held, that +lifted her up, that guided her, that sustained her, through all the +terror that girt her round. + +The light dawned gradually in her eyes. She found herself gazing up into +a face she knew, a lean, brown face, alert and keen, that watched her +steadfastly. + +With an effort she clasped her nerveless fingers upon the +sustaining hand. + +"Hold me!" she whispered weakly. "I'm falling!" + +"Don't be afraid!" he made answer with infinite gentleness. "I have +you safe." + +Someone whom she saw but vaguely came behind him and whispered in a +vigorous undertone. A large white hand, on which flashed many rings, +rested upon his shoulder. + +He moved slightly, took something into his free hand and held it to her +lips. Submissively, in answer to an influence that seemed to fold her +about and gently to compel, she drank. + +Slowly the mist of dread cleared from her brain. Slowly she awoke to full +consciousness, and found Nap Errol bending over her, her hand fast +clasped in his. + +"What happened?" she asked him faintly. "Where am I?" + +"You are at Baronmead," he said. "You were thrown and we brought +you here." + +"Ah!" Her brows contracted a little. "Am I much hurt?" she asked. + +"Nothing to worry about," Nap said with quiet confidence. "You will soon +be all right again. I will leave you to get a good sleep, shall I? If +you are wanting anything my mother will be here." + +She looked at him doubtfully. Her hand still clung to his, +half-mechanically it seemed. + +"Mr. Errol," she faltered, "my husband--does he know?" + +"Yes, he knows." Very softly Nap made answer, as though he were soothing +a child. "Don't trouble about that. Don't trouble about anything. Just +lie still and rest." + +But the anxiety in her eyes was growing. "He isn't here?" she questioned. + +"No." + +"Then--then I think I ought to go to him. He will think it so strange. He +will--he will--" + +"Lady Carfax, listen!" Quietly but insistently he broke in upon her +rising agitation. "Your husband knows all about you. He couldn't come +to-night, but he is coming in the morning. Now won't you be content and +try to sleep?" + +"I can't sleep," she said, with a shudder. "I am afraid of falling." + +"No, you're not. See! I am holding your hands. You can't fall. Look at +me! Keep looking at me and you will see how safe you are!" + +His voice had sunk almost to a whisper. His eyes dusky, compelling, yet +strangely impersonal, held hers by some magic that was too utterly +intangible to frighten her. With a sigh she yielded to the mastery she +scarcely felt. + +And as she floated away into a peace indescribable, unlike anything +she had ever known before, she heard a woman's voice, hushed to a +sibilant whisper, remark, "My, Nap! You're too smart to be human. I +always said so." + +When she opened her eyes again it was many hours later, and she was lying +in the broad sunshine with the doctor, whom she knew, stooping over her. + +"Ah, you are awake at last!" he said. "And I find a marvellous +improvement. No, I shouldn't try to move at present. But I don't suppose +you can for a moment. You have had a wonderful escape, my dear lady, a +most wonderful escape. But for all that I shall keep you where you are +for the next fortnight or so. A badly jarred spine is not a thing to +play with." + +"Is that all?" Anne asked. + +He became cautious on the instant. "I don't say that is all. In any case +we will run no risks. Let me congratulate you upon having fallen into +such good hands." + +He glanced over Anne's head at someone on the other side of the bed, and +Anne turned slightly to see the person thus indicated. And so she had her +first sight of the woman who ruled Lucas Errol's house. + +She had heard of her more than once. People smiled, not unkindly, when +they mentioned Mrs. Errol, a good sort, they said; but, like many another +woman of inelegant exterior, how good a sort only her Maker knew. She was +large in every way. It was the only word that described her; +large-boned, large-featured, and so stout that she wheezed--a fact which +in no way limited her activity. Her voice was as deep as a man's, and it +went even deeper when she laughed. + +But she was not laughing now. Her face was full of the most kindly +concern. "Lord bless the child!" she said. "She don't know me yet. +I'm Mrs. Errol, dear, Mrs. Lucas Blenheim Errol. And if there's +anything you want--well, you've only got to mention it to me and it's +as good as done." + +She spoke with a strong American accent. A Yankee of the Yankees was Mrs. +Errol, and she saw no reason to disguise the fact. She knew that people +smiled at her, but it made no difference to her. She was content to let +them smile. She even smiled at herself. + +"You are very good," Anne murmured. + +"Not a bit," said Mrs. Errol cheerfully. "I'm real pleased to have you, +dear. And don't you think you're giving any trouble to anybody, for there +isn't anything that pleases me so much as to have a girl to look after. +It's the biggest treat the Lord could send." + +Anne smiled a little, conscious of a glow at the heart that she had not +known for many a day. She tried weakly to give her hand to her new +friend, but the pain of moving was so intense that she uttered a quick +gasp and abandoned the attempt. + +But in an instant Mrs. Errol's fingers were wound closely about her own, +the large face, wonderfully smooth, save for a few kindly wrinkles about +the eyes, was bent to hers. + +"There, dearie, there!" said the motherly voice, tender for all its +gruffness. "You're stiff in every limb, and no wonder. It's just natural. +Just you lie still and leave everything to me." + +She was, in fact, determined to take the whole burden of nursing upon +herself, and when the doctor had gone she began to show Anne how capable +she was of fulfilling the responsibility she had thus undertaken. No +trained nurse could have given her more dexterous attention. + +"I've spent a great part of my life in sickrooms," she told Anne. "First +my husband, and then poor Lucas, that's my eldest boy. But Lucas won't +have me to wait on him now. He doesn't like his mother to see him in his +bad hours, and they are mighty bad now and then. So my nursing talents +would run to seed if it weren't for a casual patient like yourself." + +It was so evident that she enjoyed her self-appointed task that Anne +could only smile and thank her. She was helpless as an infant and could +not have refused her hostess's ministrations even had she desired to do +so. She suffered a good deal of pain also, and this kept her from taking +much note of her surroundings during that first day at Baronmead. + +She refrained from asking further about her husband for some time, +avoiding all mention of him, but she was possessed by a nervous dread +that increased steadily as the hours wore on. At last, as Mrs. Errol +seemed equally determined to volunteer no information, she summoned her +resolution and compelled herself to speak. + +"My husband has not come yet?" she asked. + +"No, dear." Mrs. Errol smiled upon her with much kindness, but her tone +did not encourage further inquiries. + +Anne lay silent for a little. It was a difficult matter to handle. +"Did he send no message?" she asked at last, with knitted brows. "I +thought--or did I dream it?--that your son said he was coming." + +"To be sure he did," said Mrs. Errol. "You would like to speak to Nap +about it, wouldn't you?" + +Anne hesitated. Mrs. Errol was already on her way to the door. It was +plain that here was a responsibility she was unprepared to shoulder. But +Anne called her back. + +"No, please!" she said, a slight flush on her face. "Don't call him in +again! Really, it is of no consequence." + +But in spite of this assertion her uneasiness regarding her husband grew +rapidly from that moment--an uneasiness that she was powerless to control +or hide. Could it be--was it possible?--that he meant to leave her thus +abandoned to the pitying kindness of strangers? She could hardly believe +it. And yet--and yet--he had done un-heard-of things before. There were +times, times that had become more and more frequent of late, when she +doubted his sanity. Those devilish moods of his, whither were they +tending? Was he in the grip of one of them now? And if so--if so--what +would happen to her? What could she do? + +As the hours passed, the torture of suspense so worked upon her that +she began to grow feverish. The afternoon was waning and still no +word had come. + +She tried to reassure herself again and again, but each failure added to +her distress. + +"You mustn't fret, child," said Mrs. Errol gently, when she brought her +tea. "It's the worst thing possible. Come, come! What is it?" + +Anne tried to tell her, but could not. The very utterance of her +fears was more than she could accomplish in her present state. Words +failed her. + +Mrs. Errol said no more, but presently she went quietly away, leaving her +alone in the firelight, chafing but impotent. + +She was soon back again, however, and a muffled word on the threshold +told Anne that she was not alone. She turned her head sharply on the +pillow regardless of wrenched muscles, hoping against hope. But she +looked in vain for her husband's tall figure, and a sigh that was almost +a groan escaped her. It was Nap, slim, upright, and noiseless, who +stepped from behind Mrs. Errol and came to her bedside. + +He stooped a little and took her quivering hand, holding it in both his +own so that his fingers pressed upon her pulse. + +"The mater thought you would like to speak to me," he said. + +She looked up at him with eyes of piteous entreaty. She was long past any +thought of expediency so far as he was concerned. It seemed only natural +in her trouble to turn to him for help. Had he not helped her before? +Besides, she knew that he understood things that she could not utter. + +"Oh, Nap," she said admitting him unconsciously in her extremity to an +intimacy she would never have dreamed of according him in any less urgent +circumstances, "I am greatly troubled about my husband. You said he would +come to me, but--he hasn't come!" + +"I know he hasn't," Nap said. He spoke quietly, but she was aware of a +certain grimness in his speech. "I shouldn't worry if I were you. It +won't help you any. Is there anyone else you would like sent for?" + +"I have--no one else," she said, her voice quivering beyond her control. +"How can I lie here and not worry?" + +"Lord bless the child!" said Mrs. Errol vigorously. "What is there to +worry about, anyway?" + +But Nap was silent. His fingers were still closed firmly upon her wrist. + +"Mrs. Errol is very good," Anne said earnestly. "You mustn't think me +ungrateful or unappreciative. But I cannot go on like this. I cannot!" + +"I am afraid you have no choice," Nap said. + +She scarcely heard him. At least she paid no heed. "Will you tell me +exactly what has passed? Has he definitely refused to come to me? +Because, if so--" + +"If so--" said Nap gently. + +She summoned her wavering self-control. "If so--I must go back to him at +once. I must indeed. You will manage it for me, will you not? Perhaps you +will take me yourself in the motor." + +"No," said Nap. He spoke briefly, even sternly. He was bending down over +her, and she caught the gleam of the firelight in his eyes and thought +that they shone red. "I would do a good deal for you, Lady Carfax," he +said, "but I can't do that. You ask the impossible." He paused a moment +and she felt his grasp slowly tighten upon her hand. "You want to know +what passed, and perhaps it is better that you should know even if it +distresses you. I sent a messenger in the motor to Sir Giles last night +to tell him of your accident and to beg him to return here with him. He +came back alone with no definite reply. He did not, in fact, see Sir +Giles, though the message was delivered. I waited till noon today to see +if he would come, and then as there was no sign of him I went myself in +the motor to fetch him." + +"Ah!" Anne's lips parted to utter the word. They were quivering +uncontrollably. + +"I saw him," Nap went on very quietly. "I practically forced an entrance. +He was in his study alone. I fancy he was feeling sick, but I didn't stop +to inquire. I told him you were wanting him. I was quite kind to him--for +your sake." She fancied the grim lips smiled. "But I regret to say he +didn't appreciate my kindness, and I soon saw that he was in no state to +come to you even if he would. So--I left him and came away." + +"Ah!" Again that faint exclamation that was like the half-uttered cry of +a woman's heart. "He wasn't--wasn't rude to you, I hope?" + +Nap's teeth showed for an instant. He made no reply. + +"Mr. Errol," she said beseechingly, "please tell me everything! He did +not--did not--" + +"Kick me?" questioned Nap drily. "My dear lady, no man may kick Nap Errol +and live. So I did not give him the opportunity." + +She uttered a quick sob and turned her head upon the pillow. The tears +were running down her face. + +The hand that pressed her wrist began to rub it very gently. "That's +the worst of telling the truth," Nap said softly. "It is sure to +hurt someone." + +"I am glad you told me," she whispered back, "though I don't know what to +say to you--how to atone--" + +"I will tell you then," he answered swiftly. "Stay quietly here and be +as happy as you can till the doctor gives you leave to go back. You will +have to do it in any case, but--if you feel you owe me anything, which of +course you don't"--he smiled again, and his smile when free from cynicism +held a wonderful charm--"do it willingly--please do it willingly!" + +She could not answer him in words, but her fingers closed upon his. +Instantly she felt his answering pressure. A moment later he laid her +hand down very gently and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STING OF A SCORPION + + +"Oh, dear, I wish it wasn't so muddy." Dot, emerging from old Squinny's +cottage, stood a moment on the edge of the large puddle that was old +Squinny's garden and gazed over the ploughed fields beyond towards the +sinking sun. It was the last day in January, and the winter dusk was +already creeping up in a curtain of damp mist that veiled everything it +touched. She knew it would be dark long before she got home, and the +prospect of sliding about in the muddy lanes did not attract her. + +"You were an idiot not to bring a lantern," she told herself severely, +as she skirted the edge of the puddle. "You might have known--but you +never think!" + +Here she reached the garden-gate and lifted it scientifically off its +hinges and then back again when she had passed through. Old Squinny's +gate had not opened in the ordinary way within the memory of man. It was +stoutly bound to the gate-post by several twists of rusty chain. + +A stretch of waste land lay beyond the cottage garden; then came the +road and then the fields, brown and undulating in the ruddy western glow. +For a second or two Dot considered the homeward path that lay across the +fields. She had come by that earlier in the afternoon, and she knew +exactly what it had to offer besides the advantage of cutting half a mile +from a three-mile trudge. But her knowledge eventually decided her in +favour of the road. + +"Besides," as she optimistically remarked to herself, "someone might pass +and give me a lift." + +For Dot was not above being seen in a waggon or a tradesman's cart. +She accepted as she was prone to give, promiscuously and with +absolute freedom. + +But it was no tradesman's cart that the gods had in store for her that +day. Rather was it a chariot of their own that presently swooped as if +upon wings swiftly and smoothly down upon the Sturdy wayfarer. Dot +herself was scarcely aware of its approach before it had passed and come +to a standstill barely half a dozen yards from her. + +"Hullo!" cried a boyish voice. "This is luck! Jump in! I'll soon trundle +you home." + +It was Bertie leaning out from the wheel on which his hands rested. In +the open seat behind him, propped by cushions, sat a man whom she knew +instantly though she had never met him before. He looked at her as she +came up to the car with blue eyes as frank and kind as Bertie's, though +not so merry. It was not difficult to see that they were brothers. + +"My brother Lucas," said Bertie, "the one you wanted to know." + +He smiled as he said it for the sheer malicious pleasure of seeing her +blush. And Dot's green-brown eyes shot him a glance of quick indignation. + +But Lucas Errol stepped calmly into the breach. "This young brother of +mine has a way of turning things topsy-turvy," he said in his easy drawl. +"We just make allowances for him when we can, and kick him when we can't. +It is I who have wanted to know you, Miss Waring--it is Miss Waring, I +think?--for some time past. Won't you get in beside me and give me the +pleasure of making your acquaintance?" + +He pulled off his glove and offered her his hand. + +Dot instantly took it, but when he would have helped her in she drew +back. "I had better not, really. Look at my boots!" + +"Jump in!" urged Bertie. "Who cares?" + +He sprang suddenly down and seized her impulsively by the waist. In +another second he would have bundled her in without ceremony, but +quietly, with no change of countenance, his brother intervened. + +"Bertie, behave yourself! Miss Waring, I beg you will do exactly as you +like, but please believe that the state of your boots doesn't matter a +cent. I should say the same with absolute honesty if I had to clean the +car myself." + +"I am quite sure I shouldn't in your place," said Dot as she climbed +into the car. + +Lucas smiled and fished out a spare rug. "Put it round your shoulders and +fold it well over. You will find it cold when we begin to move. Are your +feet quite warm? There is a foot-warmer here. Tuck her in well, Bertie. +That's the way." + +"You will never get out again," laughed Bertie, as he shut the door upon +her. "Now, where are we going? To Baronmead?" + +His merry eyes besought her for an instant; then, as she began to shake +her head, "Can't you persuade her, Luke?" he said. + +"I think so," Lucas answered. "Drive on slowly while I try. You know +there is a friend of yours there, Miss Waring?" + +"Lady Carfax?" said Dot quickly. + +He bent his head. "I think she would like you to visit her. She has so +few friends." + +"I would love to, of course," Dot said impetuously. "But--you know, I've +never visited her before, though I have often longed to. People don't +call at the Manor. Not even Dad goes there. And in any case, I am hardly +grown up enough to pay calls. Wouldn't she--are you sure she wouldn't +think it very presumptuous of me to go and see her?" + +"That is the last thing I should expect from her," Lucas answered, with +quiet conviction. + +"She is very proud," Dot began. + +"She is very miserable," he said. + +Dot's eyes softened. "Oh, poor Lady Carfax!" she said. "So you know +that, too!" + +"I have seen her only twice," he said. "Yes, I know it." + +Dot's eyes widened. "Only twice! Why, surely it must be three weeks +nearly since her accident." + +"I believe it is. But it was serious, you know, and she has made a very +slow recovery. The doctor has only just allowed her to be removed to +another room." + +"Poor Lady Carfax!" Dot said again. "Yes, I'll come. I know Dad +wouldn't mind!" + +So Bertie had his desire and turned the motor with a light heart towards +Baronmead. He sang as he drove, sang at the top of his voice; for he was +in a happy mood that evening. + +And Dot was happy too, though a little nervous. She had often longed to +go to Baronmead, and she was already thoroughly at her ease with the +master thereof, who sat and conversed beside her in that rather +monotonous, tired drawl of his. It was only the thought of Anne that made +her nervous. Warmly as she admired her, she was ever so slightly afraid +of the stately lady of the Manor, who made friends with so few and for +all her queenly graciousness kept those she had at so discreet a +distance. Of course everyone knew why. The reason was plain to all who +had eyes to see. But that fact did not help any to overstep the barrier, +nor did it keep the majority from being affronted. Dot was not of the +latter, but she was ever shy in Anne's presence, though it was more the +fear of hurting than of being hurt that made her so. + +She enjoyed the brisk run to Baronmead with all her healthy soul. As they +sped up the long drive they were joined by a galloping horseman, who +shouted to Bertie to put on speed and flogged his animal furiously when +the car drew ahead. He looked like a demon to Dot in the half-light--a +black imp mounted on a black mare riding to perdition. She was glad to +leave him behind. + +But as they drew up before the great house that loomed gaunt and eerie in +the gathering darkness the galloping hoofs drew near again, and before +they were out of the car Nap was beside them. + +He flung himself out of the saddle, with a curt, "Here, Bertie! Take the +brute for me. Mind her teeth! She's in a vile temper." + +"What a beast you are!" was Bertie's comment, as he went to the +panting animal. + +The valet, Hudson, was waiting to help his master out of the car, but Nap +pushed him imperiously aside. His quick, lithe movements fascinated Dot. +She stood and watched him as he dexterously assisted the heavy, misshapen +figure of his brother to alight. He was wonderfully strong for so slight +a man. He seemed compacted of muscle and energy, welded together with a +certain fiery grace that made him in some fashion remarkable. He was +utterly different from any other man she had ever seen. + +"Will you go first, Miss Waring?" It was Lucas Errol's voice. He leaned +on his brother's shoulder, waiting for her. + +Nap glanced round at her. She saw his ironical smile for an instant. +"Miss Waring prefers to wait for Bertie, perhaps," he remarked. + +The words stung her, she scarcely knew why, and what had been a +half-reluctant prejudice before turned to sudden hot antagonism in Dot's +heart. She hated Nap Errol from that moment. + +But Lucas laid a quiet hand on her arm, and her resentment died. + +"I think Miss Waring was waiting for me," he said. "Will you let me lean +on you, Miss Waring? Steps are always a difficulty to me." + +"Of course," she said eagerly. "Do lean hard!" + +It occurred to her afterwards that the valet's assistance would have been +more effectual than hers, and at the top of the steps she glanced back at +him. He was immediately behind them, laden with some things he had taken +from the car. His eyes, as he ascended, were fixed upon Nap, and a +curious little thrill of sympathy ran through Dot as she realised that +she was not the only person who hated him. + +As they passed into the great entrance-hall Bertie came springing up +behind them. "I say, can't we have tea here before you go up to see Lady +Carfax? It's the cosiest place in the whole house." + +A huge fire burned on an open hearth, about which a deep lounge and +several easy-chairs were arrayed. + +"That will be O.K.," said Lucas. "Fix me up on the settee, Nap." + +"You had better go and rest in your room," said Nap. "Bertie and Miss +Waring are accustomed to entertaining each other." + +Again Dot felt the sting--this time a tangible one--in his words. He was +evidently in a stinging mood. + +She drew back quickly. "I would rather go straight up to Lady Carfax +if I may." + +"Oh, I say, don't!" thrust in Bertie with a quick frown. "Lucas, you'll +stay, won't you, and have tea with us here?" + +"That is my intention," said Lucas, "if Miss Waring will give us the +pleasure of her company." + +And Dot, though she longed to escape, went forward with him into the glow +of the firelight. + +She hoped earnestly that Nap would depart, but for some reason Nap was +minded to remain. He settled his brother on the cushions and then flung +himself into a chair on the other side of the fire. Dot was aware without +looking at him that he had her under observation; she felt the scrutiny +she could not see, and knew it was malevolent. + +Bertie evidently knew it too, for he was scowling savagely in a fashion +quite unfamiliar to her. He placed a chair for her close to Lucas. + +"I guess we must ask you to do the honours, Miss Waring," the latter +said. "My mother must be with Lady Carfax." + +"Here's an opportunity for Miss Waring to display her charms!" gibed Nap. +"But doubtless Bertie has been initiated in the arts and wiles of +tea-making long before this. It's a bewitching performance, eh, Bertie?" + +Bertie growled something unintelligible and turned his back. + +"Give him plenty of sugar, Miss Waring," recommended Nap. "He's +remarkably guileless. With a little patience and subtlety on your part +he'll soon come and feed out of your hand. After that, a little feminine +persuasion is all that is required to entice the pretty bird into the +cage. He's quite a fine specimen; such a lot of gold about him, too! It +would be a pity to let him escape. There are not many of his sort, I +assure you." + +The drawling insolence of the words made Dot quiver all over. She knew by +Bertie's rigidity of pose that he was furious too, but she did not dare +to look at him. She tried to attend to some remark that Lucas made to +her, but she only answered at random. She could not take in what he said. + +Perhaps he saw her perturbation, for after a moment he turned from her to +Nap and very deliberately engaged him in conversation, while Bertie, +very pale but quite collected, sat down by her and began to talk also. + +She did her best to second his efforts, but with Nap's eyes openly +mocking her from the other side of the hearth, she found it impossible to +divert her thoughts. + +So they thought that of her, did they? They thought--that! She felt as if +she had been publicly weighed in the balances and found wanting. She told +herself passionately that she would never, as long as she lived, speak to +Nap Errol again. Everyone said he was a bounder, and everyone was right. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +BROTHERS + + +"Come right in!" said Mrs. Errol. "Anne, my dear, here is little Miss +Waring come to see you. I'm real pleased to meet you, child. I've watched +you in church many a time when I ought to have been saying my prayers, +and so has someone else I know." + +Dot's cheeks were scarlet as she came forward to Anne's couch. She was +still telling herself with fierce emphasis that never, never again would +she voluntarily venture herself within the walls of Baronmead. + +But when Anne stretched out a hand to her and smiled, all her +perturbation vanished at a breath. She went impulsively forward and knelt +down by her side. For some reason she did not feel her customary awe of +the lady of the Manor. This sad-faced woman with the deeply shadowed eyes +aroused within her something that was stronger, something that carried +her completely out of herself. + +"Oh, are you better?" she said. "I have been so sorry about you." + +"It was good of you to come up to see me," Anne said gently. "Yes, Dot, +I am better. I am allowed to walk again, and I am going home to-morrow." + +"Not if I know it," said Mrs. Errol stoutly. "Or if you do, I go too, to +take care of you." + +Anne smiled at her without replying. "Sit down, Dot," she said, "and tell +me all the news. I know you hear everything." + +"But nothing has happened," said Dot. "Everybody is squabbling as usual +about the Town Hall, why we want one, why there isn't one, and when we +are going to have one. Really, there's nothing else." + +"My dear," said Mrs. Errol, "everybody wants a sound spanking, and I +should like to administer it. Every township ought to have a public +building, and there's my son Lucas wanting nothing so much as to build +one and they won't let him." + +"I am afraid my husband is the main obstacle," said Anne. + +"Then I guess we won't discuss it," said Mrs. Errol firmly. "Who's that +scratching at the door?" + +It was Bertie, as Anne knew on the instant by Dot's face. "Do ask him to +come in," she said kindly. + +Bertie came in as one not wholly sure of his welcome, and took up a +position in the background. And there during the remainder of Dot's +visit he stayed, scarcely speaking, and so sternly preoccupied that +Dot's embarrassment returned upon her overwhelmingly, and she very soon +rose to go. + +He stepped forward then and followed her out. "I am going to motor you +home," he said, as he escorted her down the stairs. + +Dot nearly stopped short in consternation. "Oh, no, really! I'm going +home alone. It's no distance, and I know my way perfectly." + +"I'm coming with you," he said doggedly. + +But the memory of those eyes that had mocked her across the hall still +burned in the girl's heart. She faced him resolutely; + +"You are not to, Bertie. I don't wish it." + +"I can't help it," said Bertie. "I am coming." + +At this point they arrived in the hall, and here she found Lucas Errol +waiting to say good-bye to her. + +She turned to him with desperate appeal. "Mr. Errol, please don't let +Bertie see me home. I--I would so much rather go alone." + +She was almost crying as she said it, and Lucas looked at Bertie with +most unaccustomed sharpness. + +"It's all right," the boy made answer. "We haven't quarrelled yet." + +The last word sounded ominous, and with her hand in Lucas's quiet grasp, +Dot shivered. + +"But I'm sure we are going to," she said. "And I do so hate quarrelling. +Do, please, let me run home alone. I'm not a bit afraid." + +Lucas began to smile. "I think it's rather hard on Bertie," he said. +"However--" + +"I must go, Lucas," Bertie said quickly. "You don't understand. There is +something I want to explain." + +But Lucas leaned a hand upon his shoulder. "Let it keep, dear fellow. +There is always tomorrow!" + +"No, never, never, never!" whispered Dot to her turbulent heart. + +Yet when a moment later Bertie came forward, and silently, without +looking at her, held open the door, a wild regret surged fiercely +through her, and for that second she almost wished that she had let him +go with her. + +And then again there came to her that hateful whisper--that taunting, +intolerable sneer; and she fled without a backward glance. + +Bertie closed the great door very quietly, and turned back into the hall. + +"Where is Nap?" + +"Come here, Bertie," Lucas said. + +He went unwillingly. "Where is Nap?" he said again. + +Lucas, supporting himself on one side with a crutch, stood by the fire +and waited for him. + +As Bertie drew near he took him gently by the shoulder. "May I know what +you were going to say to Miss Waring just now?" he asked. + +Bertie threw back his head. "I was going to ask her to overlook that +cad's vile insinuations--and marry me." + +"And that was the very thing she didn't want you to do," Lucas said. + +"I can't help it." There was a stubborn note in Bertie's voice. "She +shan't think I'm a blackguard like Nap." + +"We will leave Nap out of it," Lucas said quietly. + +"Why?" demanded Bertie hotly. "He was responsible. He insulted a guest +under your roof. Are you going to put up with that? Because I'm not!" + +"My dear fellow, it is I, not you, who must deal with that." + +Bertie stamped furiously. "That's all very well, but--dash it, Lucas, +you're always holding me back. And I can't knock under to you in this. +I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm going to have it out with Nap. Whatever you +may say, it is more my business than yours." + +He would have flung round with the words, but his brother's hand was +still upon him, restraining him. + +He paused, chafing. "You must let me go. I shall hurt you if you don't." + +"You will hurt me if I do, boy," Lucas made grave reply. + +"I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't help it. There are times when a +man--if he is a man--must act for himself. And I--" he broke off, still +chafing, his hand seeking without violence to free him from that hold +which could not have been so very powerful, though it resisted his +efforts. "Luke," he said suddenly, and the anger was gone from his voice, +"let me go, old chap. You must let me go. It isn't right--it isn't just +to--to take advantage of being--what you are." + +The quick falter in the words deprived them of any sting, yet on the +instant Lucas's hand fell, setting him free. + +"All right, Bertie! Go!" he said. + +And Bertie went--three steps, and halted. Lucas remained motionless +before the fire. He was not so much as looking at him. + +Several seconds passed in silence. Then impulsively Bertie turned. His +lips were quivering. He went straight back to the quiet figure on the +hearth, lifted the free arm, and drew it boyishly round his neck. + +"Old chap, forgive me!" he said. + +"For what you haven't done?" Lucas asked, with a very kindly smile. + +"For being an unconscionable brute!" Bertie said, with feeling. "I didn't +mean, it, old man. I didn't mean it!" + +"Oh, shucks, dear fellow! Don't be such a silly ass! It's demoralising +for all concerned." Lucas Errol's hand pressed his shoulder +admonishingly. "She's a nice little girl, Bertie. I've taken a kind of +fancy to her myself." + +Bertie looked up quickly. "Luke, you're a brick!" + +Lucas shook his head. "But you mustn't ask her yet, lad. She's not ready +for it. I'm not sure that you are ready for it yourself." + +Bertie's face fell. "Why not? I'm in dead earnest. I want to marry her, +just as soon as she will have me." + +"Quite so," drawled Nap, from the depths of the lounge behind him. "And +she, I doubt not, wants to marry you--even sooner, if possible." + +He had come up in his noiseless fashion unobserved. Attired in evening +dress, slim, sleek, well-groomed, he lay at full length and gazed up at +the two brothers, a malicious glitter in his eyes. He held an unlighted +cigarette between his fingers. + +"Pray don't let me interrupt, Lucas," he said airily, ignoring Bertie's +sharp exclamation, which was not of a pacific nature. "I always enjoy +seeing you trying to teach the pride of the Errols not to make a fool of +himself. It's a gigantic undertaking, isn't it? Let me know if you +require any assistance." + +He placed the cigarette between his lips and felt for some matches. + +"I am going to turn my attention to you now," Lucas rejoined in his tired +voice. "Bertie, old chap, go and dress, will you? You can come to my room +afterwards." + +"Bring me one of those spills first," said Nap. + +Bertie stood rigid. He was white to the lips with the effort to control +himself. Nap, outstretched, supple as a tiger, lay and watched him +unwaveringly. + +"Go, Bertie!" Lucas said very quietly. + +He took a spill himself from the mantelpiece, and tried to hold it to the +blaze. But he stooped with difficulty, and sharply Bertie reached forward +and took it from him. + +"I will," he said briefly, and lighting the spill, carried it to Nap, at +ease on the sofa. + +With a faint smile Nap awaited him. He did not offer to take the burning +spill, and Bertie held it in sullen silence to the end of his cigarette. +His hand was not very steady, and after a moment Nap took his wrist. + +The cigarette glowed, and Nap looked up. "It's a pity you're too big to +thrash, Bertie," he said coolly, and with a sudden movement doubled the +flaming paper back upon the fingers that held it. + +Bertie's yell was more of rage than pain. He struck furiously at his +tormentor with his free hand, but Nap, by some trick of marvellous +agility, evaded the blow. He leapt over the back of the settee with a +laugh of devilish derision. + +And, "Bertie, go!" said Lucas peremptorily. + +Without a word Bertie checked himself as it were in mid career, stood a +second as one gathering his strength, then turned in utter silence and +marched away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE JESTER'S INFERNO + + +Between the two men who were left not a word passed for many minutes. Nap +prowled to and fro with his head back and his own peculiarly insolent +smile curving the corners of his mouth. There was a ruddy glare in his +eyes, but they held no anger. + +Lucas, still leaning on his crutch, stood with his back turned, his face +to the fire. There was no anger about him either. He looked spent. + +Abruptly Nap ceased his pacing and came up to him. "Come!" he said. "You +have had enough of this. I will help you to your room." + +Slowly Lucas lifted his heavy eyes. "Send Hudson to me," he said. + +Nap looked at him sharply. Then, "Lean on me," he said. "I'll help you." + +"No. Send Hudson." The words ended upon a stifled groan. + +Nap turned swiftly and dragged forward the settee. "Lie down here for a +minute, while I fetch him. Don't faint, man! You will be easier +directly. You have been on your feet too long. There! Is that better?" + +Lucas drew a long, shuddering breath and slowly suffered his limbs to +relax. His face was ghastly though he forced himself to smile. + +"Yes, I am better. Don't call Hudson for a minute. Nap!" + +Nap bent. + +"Put your hand under my shoulders. Ah! That's a help. I always like your +touch. Say, Boney," the words came gaspingly, the sunken eyes were heavy +with pain, "you'll think me a mean brute. I am, dear fellow, I am; a +coward, too, from the same point of view. But--ill or well, I've got to +say it. You've been running amok to-day, and it's been altogether too +lively to be just pleasant. You've got to pull up. I say it." + +Nap's smile had utterly departed. It was some other impulse that twitched +his lips as he made reply. + +"Whatever you say is law." + +"Thanks! I'm duly grateful. Do you mind wiping my forehead? I'm too lazy +to move. Boney, old chap, he's a well-behaved youngster on the whole. +What do you want to bait him for?" + +"Because I'm a jealous devil," Nap said through his teeth. + +"Oh, rats, dear fellow! We are not talking in parables. You're a bit of a +savage, I know, but--" + +"More than that," threw in Nap. + +"No--no! You can hold yourself in if you try. And why jealous, anyway? +We're all brothers. Say, Boney, I'm going to hurt you infernally. You hit +the youngster below the belt. It was foul play." + +"What can you expect?" muttered Nap. + +"I expect--better things. If you must be a beast, be a clean beast. If +you must hit out now and then, give him a chance to hit back. It's kind +of shabby--the game you played today." + +"Are you going to make me apologise?" asked Nap grimly. + +"Shucks, no; He would think you were laughing at him. Clap him on the +back and tell him not to be a fool. He'll understand that." + +"And wish him luck with the parson's daughter?" said Nap, with a sneer. + +"Why not, old chap?" + +"You really mean to let him marry the first girl who runs after +his dollars?" + +"It isn't the dollars," said the millionaire gently. "And she isn't +running after him either. She's running away." + +"Same thing sometimes," said Nap. + +"Oh, don't be cynical, Boney! It's so damned cheap! There! I've done +swearing at you for the present. It's wonderful how you fellows bear with +me. Find Hudson, will you? And then go and tell Lady Carfax that I am +afraid I can't visit her this evening as I had hoped." + +"Do you know she talks of leaving tomorrow?" said Nap. + +"Yes, I know. Guess she is quite right to go." + +"She's not fit for it," said Nap, in a fierce undertone. "It's madness. I +told her so. But she wouldn't listen." + +"She is the best judge," his brother said. "Anyway, she is in an +intolerable position. We can't press her to prolong it. Besides--whatever +he is--her husband has first right." + +"Think so?" said Nap. + +"It is so," Lucas asserted quietly, "whether you admit it or not." + +Nap did not dispute the point, but his jaw looked exceedingly +uncompromising as he departed to find the valet. + +When a little later he asked for admission to Anne's presence, however, +his bitter mood seemed to have modified. He entered with the air of one +well assured of his welcome. + +"Are you in a mood for chess tonight?" he asked. + +"Now, you're not to plague her, Nap," put in Mrs. Errol. "She isn't going +to spend her last evening amusing you." + +"Oh, please," protested Anne. "It is your son who has had all the +amusing to do." + +Nap smiled. "There's for you, alma mater!" he remarked as he sat down. + +"Lady Carfax is much too forbearing to say anything else," retorted +Mrs. Errol. + +"Lady Carfax always tells the truth," said Nap, beginning to set the +chess-board, "which is the exact reason why all her swains adore her." + +"Well," said Mrs. Errol very deliberately, though without venom, "I guess +that's about the last quality I should expect you to appreciate." + +"Strange to say, it is actually the first just now," said Nap. "Are you +going, alma mater? Don't let me drive you away!" + +He rose, nevertheless, to open the door for her; and Mrs. Errol went, +somewhat with the air of one complying with an unspoken desire. + +Nap came softly back and resumed his task. "P'r'aps you will be good +enough to refrain from referring to me again as the august lady's son," +he said. "She doesn't like it." + +"Why not?" said Anne in astonishment. + +He glanced up at her as if contemplating something. Then, "You see, the +benign mother is not over and above proud of me," he drawled. "If it were +Bertie now--well, I guess even you will admit that Bertie is the flower +of the flock." + +His manner mystified her, but it was not her way to seek to probe +mysteries. She smiled as she said, "I have yet to discover that you are +so very despicable." + +"You have yet to discover--many things," said Nap enigmatically. "Will +you be pleased to make the first move?" + +She did so silently. They had played together several times before. He +had formed a habit of visiting her every evening, and though her skill +at the game was far from great, it had been a welcome diversion from the +constant anxiety that pressed so heavily upon her. Nap was an expert +player, yet he seemed to enjoy the poor game which was all she had to +offer. Perhaps he liked to feel her at his mercy. She strongly suspected +that he often deliberately prolonged the contest though he seldom allowed +her to beat him. + +To-night, however, he seemed to be in a restless mood, and she soon saw +that he was bent upon a swift victory. He made his moves with a quick +dexterity that baffled her completely, and but a very few minutes elapsed +before he uttered his customary warning. + +"You would do well to beware." + +"Which means that I am beaten, I suppose," she said, with a smile of +resignation. + +"You can save yourself if you like," he said, with his eyes on the board, +"if you consider it worth while." + +"I don't think I do," she answered. "The end will be the same." + +His eyes flashed up at her. "You surrender unconditionally?" + +She continued to smile despite the sadness of her face. "Absolutely. I am +so accustomed to defeat that I am getting callous." + +"You seem to have great confidence in my chivalry," he said, looking +full at her. + +"I have--every confidence, Mr. Errol," she answered gravely. "I think +that you and your brother are the most chivalrous men I know." + +His laugh had a ring of harshness. "Believe me, I am not accustomed to +being ranked with the saints," he said. "How shall I get away from your +halo? I warn you, it's a most awful misfit. You'll find it out presently, +and make me suffer for your mistake." + +"You haven't a very high opinion of my sense of justice," Anne said, with +just a tinge of reproach in her gentle voice. + +"No," he said recklessly. "None whatever. You are sure to forget who +fashioned the halo. Women always do." + +Anne was silent. + +He leaned suddenly towards her, careless of the chessmen that rolled in +all directions. "I haven't been living up to the halo to-day," he said, +and there was that in his voice that touched her to quick pity. "I've +been snapping and biting like a wild beast all day long. I've been in +hell myself, and I've made it hell wherever I went." + +"Oh, but why?" Half involuntarily she held out her hand to him as one who +would assist a friend in deep waters. + +He took it, held it closely, bowed his forehead upon it, and so sat +tensely silent. + +"Something is wrong. I wish I could help you," she said at last. + +He lifted his head, met her eyes of grave compassion, and abruptly +set her free. + +"You have done what you could for me," he said. "You've made me hate my +inferno. But you can't pull me out. You have"--she saw his teeth for a +second though scarcely in a smile--"other fish to fry." + +"Whatever I am doing, I shall not forget my friends, Nap," she said, with +great earnestness. + +"No," he returned, "you won't forget them. I shouldn't wonder if you +prayed for them even. I am sure you are one of the faithful." There was +more of suppressed misery than irony in his voice. "But is that likely to +help when you don't so much as know what to pray for?" + +He got up and moved away from her with that noiseless footfall that was +so like the stealthy padding of a beast. + +Anne lay and silently watched him. Her uncertainty regarding him had long +since passed away. Though she was far from understanding him, he had +become an intimate friend, and she treated him as such. True, he was +unlike any other man she had ever met, but that fact had ceased to +embarrass her. She accepted him as he was. + +He came back at length and sat down, smiling at her, though +somewhat grimly. + +"You will pardon your poor jester," he said, "if he fails to make a joke +on your last night. He could make jokes--plenty of them, but not of the +sort that would please you." + +Anne said nothing. She would not, if she could help it, betray to any +how much she was dreading the morrow. But she felt that he knew it in +spite of her. + +His next words revealed the fact. "You are going to purgatory," he +said, "and I am going to perdition. Do you know, I sometimes wonder if +we shouldn't do better to turn and fly in the face of the gods when +they drive us too hard? Why do we give in when we've nothing to gain +and all to lose?" + +She met his look with her steadfast eyes. "Does duty count as +nothing?" she said. + +He made an impatient movement, and would have spoken, but she +stopped him. + +"Please don't rail at duty. I know your creed is pleasure, but the +pursuit of pleasure does not, after all, bring happiness." + +"Who wants pleasure?" demanded Nap fiercely. "That's only the anesthetic +when things get unbearable. You use duty in the same way. But what we +both want, what we both hanker for, starve for, is just life! Who cares +if there is pain with it? I don't, nor do you. And yet we keep on +stunting and stultifying ourselves with these old-fashioned remedies for +a disease we only half understand, when we might have all the world and +then some. Oh, we're fools--we're fools!" His voice rang wildly +passionate. He flung out his arms as if he wrestled with something. +"We've been cheated for centuries of our birthright, and we still put up +with it, still bring our human sacrifices to an empty shrine!" + +And there he broke off short, checked suddenly at the height of his +outburst though she had made no second effort to stop him. + +Her quiet eyes had not flinched from his. She had made no sign of +shrinking. With the utmost patience she had listened to him. Yet by some +means intangible the fiery stream of his rebellion was stayed. + +There fell a brief silence. Then he rose. "I am afraid I am not fit for +civilised society to-night," he said. "I will say good-bye." He held her +hand for a moment. "You will let me see you sometimes?" + +"I hope to come now and then to Baronmead," she answered quietly. "But +you will not--please--come to the Manor again." + +He looked down at her with eyes that had become inscrutable. "I shall not +come against your will," he said. + +"Thank you," she answered simply. + +And so he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A BIG THING + + +As the widowed rector's only daughter, Dot's occupations were many and +various, and it was in consequence no difficult matter to be too deeply +engrossed in these occupations to have any time to spare for intercourse +with the rector's pupil. + +Her brother had gone back to college, and there was therefore no excuse +for the said pupil to linger when his studies were over, though he +invented many that would not have borne a very close investigation. + +But his ingenuity was all to no purpose. Dot could be ingenious too, and +she evaded him so adroitly that at the end of a week he had abandoned +his efforts. + +He went about with a certain sternness in those days, but it was not the +sternness of the vanquished, rather the dogged patience of the man who is +quite sure of ultimate success. Dot, peeping from the kitchen window to +see him ride away, marked this on more than one occasion and +strengthened her defences in consequence. She had not the remotest +intention of seeing Bertie alone again for many a month, if ever. His +persistence had scared her badly on that night at Baronmead. She was +horribly afraid of what he might feel impelled to say to her, almost +terrified at the bare notion of an explanation, and the prospect of a +possible apology was unthinkable. It was easier for her to sacrifice his +good comradeship, though that of itself was no easy matter, and she could +only thrust her sense of loss into the background of her thoughts by the +most strenuous efforts. + +She was sturdily determined to make him relinquish their former pleasant +intimacy before they should meet again. She was growing up, she told +herself severely, growing up fast; and intimacies of that sort were +likely to be misconstrued. + +She took the counsel of none upon this difficult matter. Her father was +too vague a dreamer to guide her, or so much as to realise that she stood +in need of guidance. And Dot had gone her own independent way all her +life. Her healthy young mind was not accustomed to grapple with problems, +but she did not despair on that account. She only resolutely set herself +to cope with this one as best she might, erecting out of her multifarious +duties a barrier calculated to dishearten the most hopeful knight. + +But in thus constructing her defences there was one force with which she +omitted to reckon and against which she in consequence made no +preparation, a force which, nevertheless, was capable of shattering all +her carefully-laid schemes at a touch. + +As she emerged among the last of the congregation from the church on the +Sunday morning following her visit to Baronmead, she found Lucas Errol +leaning upon the open lych-gate. + +He greeted her with that shrewd, kindly smile of his before which it was +almost impossible to feel embarrassed or constrained. Yet she blushed +vividly at meeting him, and would gladly have turned the other way had +the opportunity offered. For there in the road below, doing something to +the motor, was Bertie. + +"It's a real pleasure to meet you again, Miss Waring," said Lucas, in his +pleasant drawl. "I was just hoping you would come along. I met your +father before the service, and he promised to show me his orchids." + +"Oh!" said Dot, nervously avoiding a second glance in Bertie's direction. +"Won't you come across to the Rectory then and wait for him there?" + +"May I?" said Lucas. + +He straightened himself with an effort and transferred his weight to his +crutch. Dot shyly proffered her arm. + +"Let me!" said Bertie. + +He was already on the steps, but Lucas waved him down, and accepted the +girl's help instead. + +"We will go in the garden way," said Dot. "It's only just across +the road." + +He halted terribly in the descent, and glancing at him in some anxiety +she saw that his lips were tightly closed. Overwhelming pity for the man +overcame her awkwardness, and she spoke sharply over her shoulder. + +"Bertie, come and take my place! You know what to do better than I do." + +In an instant Bertie was beside her, had slipped his arm under his +brother's shoulder, and taken his weight almost entirely off the crutch. +His active young strength bore the great burden unfalteringly and with +immense tenderness, and there ran through Dot, watching from above, a +queer little indefinable thrill that made her heart beat suddenly faster. +He certainly was a nice boy, as he himself had declared. + +"That didn't hurt so badly, eh, old chap?" asked the cheery voice. "Come +along, Dot. You can give him a hand now while I fetch the car round. +There are no steps to the Rectory, so he will be all right." + +His airy friendliness banished the last of Dot's confusion. With a keen +sense of relief she obeyed him. Those few seconds of a common solicitude +had bridged the gulf at least temporarily. + +"This is real good of you," Lucas Errol said, as he took her arm again. +"And it's a luxury I ought not to indulge in, for I can walk alone on +the flat." + +"Oh, it is horrid for you!" she said with vehemence. "How ever do +you bear it?" + +"We can all of us bear what we must," he said, smiling whimsically. + +"But we don't all of us do it well," said Dot, as she opened the +Rectory gate. + +"I guess that's a good deal a matter of temperament," said the +American. "A fellow like Nap, for instance, all hustle and quicksilver, +might be expected to kick now and then. One makes allowances for a +fellow like that." + +"I believe you make allowances for everyone," said Dot, impetuously. + +"Don't you?" he asked. + +"No, I am afraid I don't." + +There was a pause. The garden door was closed behind them. They +stood alone. + +Lucas Errol's eyes travelled over the stretch of lawn that lay between +them and the house, dwelt for a few thoughtful seconds upon nothing in +particular, and finally sought those of the girl at his side. + +"One must be fair, Miss Waring," he said gently. "I can't imagine you +being deliberately unfair to anyone." + +She flushed again. There was something in his manner that she could not +quite fathom, but it was something that she could not possibly resent. + +"Not deliberately--of course," she said after a moment, as he waited for +an answer. + +"Of course not," he agreed, in his courteous, rather tired voice. "If, +for instance, you were out with a friend and met a scorpion in a rage who +stung you both, you'd want to take it out of the scorpion, wouldn't you, +not the friend?" + +She hesitated, seeing in a flash the trend of the conversation, and +unwilling to commit herself too deeply. + +He read her reluctance at a glance. "Please don't be afraid of me," he +said, with that most winning smile of his. "I promise you on my honour +that whatever you say shall not be used against you." + +She smiled involuntarily. "I am not afraid of you, only--" + +"Only--" he said. + +"I think there are a good many scorpions about," she told him rather +piteously. "I could name several, all venomous." + +"I understand," said Lucas Errol. He passed his hand within her arm again +and pressed it gently. "And so you are flinging away all your valuables +to escape them?" he questioned. "Forgive me--is that wise?" + +She did not answer. + +He began to make his difficult progress towards the house. + +Suddenly, without looking at her he spoke again. "I believe you're a +woman of sense, Miss Waring, and you know as well as I do that there is a +price to pay for everything. And the biggest things command the highest +prices. If we haven't the means to pay for a big thing when it is +offered us, we must just let it go. But if we have--well, I guess we'd be +wise to sell out all the little things and secure it. Those same little +things are so almighty small in comparison." + +He ceased, but still Dot was silent. It was not the silence of +embarrassment, however. He had spoken too kindly for that. + +He did not look at her till they were close to the house, then for a few +moments she was aware of his steady eyes searching for the answer she +had withheld. + +"Say, Miss Waring," he said, "you are not vexed any?" + +She turned towards him instantly, her round face full of the most earnest +friendliness. "I--I think you're a brick, Mr. Errol," she said. + +He shook his head. "Nothing so useful, I am afraid, but I'm grateful to +you all the same for thinking so. Ah! Here comes your father." + +The rector was hastening after them across the grass. He joined them on +the path before the house and urged his visitor to come in and rest. The +orchids were in the conservatory. He believed he had one very rare +specimen. If Mr. Errol would sit down in the drawing-room he would bring +it for his inspection. + +And so it came to pass that when Bertie entered he found his brother deep +in a botanical discussion with the enthusiastic rector while Dot had +disappeared. Bertie only paused to ascertain this fact before he turned +round and went in quest of her. + +He knew his way about the lower regions of the Rectory, and he began a +systematic search forthwith. She was not, however, to be very readily +found. He glanced into all the downstairs rooms without success. He was, +in fact, on the point of regretfully abandoning his efforts on the +supposition that she had retreated to her own room when her voice rang +suddenly down the back stairs. She was calling agitatedly for help. + +It was enough for Bertie. He tore up the stairs with lightning speed, +boldly announcing his advent as he went. + +He found her at the top of the house in an old cupboard used for storing +fruit. She was mounted upon a crazy pair of steps that gave signs of +imminent collapse, and to save herself from the catastrophe that this +would involve she was clinging to the highest shelf with both hands. + +"Be quick!" she cried to him. "Be quick! I'm slipping every second!" + +The words were hardly uttered before the steps gave a sudden loud crack +and fell from beneath her with a crash. But in the same instant Bertie +sprang in and caught her firmly round the knees. He proceeded with much +presence of mind to seat her on his shoulder. + +"That's all right. I've got you," he said cheerily. "None the worse, eh? +What are you trying to do? May as well finish before you come down." + +Dot seemed for a moment inclined to resent the support thus jauntily +given, but against her will her sense of humour prevailed. + +She uttered a muffled laugh. "I'm getting apples for dessert." + +"All in your Sunday clothes!" commented Bertie. "That comes of +procrastination--the fatal British defect." + +"I hate people who hustle," remarked Dot, hoping that her hot cheeks were +not visible at that altitude. + +"Meaning me?" said Bertie, settling himself for an argument. + +"Oh, I suppose you can't help it," said Dot, filling her basket with +feverish speed. "You Americans are all much too greedy to wait for +anything. Am I very heavy?" + +"Not in the least," said Bertie. "I like being sat on now and then. I +admit the charge of greed but not of impatience. You misjudge me there." + +At this point a large apple dropped suddenly upon his upturned face +and, having struck him smartly between the eyes, fell with a thud to +the ground. + +Bertie said "Damn!" but luckily for Dot he did not budge an inch. + +"I beg your pardon," he added a moment later. + +"What for?" said Dot. + +"For swearing," he replied. "I forgot you didn't like it." + +"Oh!" said Dot; and after a pause, "Then I beg yours." + +"Did you do it on purpose?" he asked curiously. + +"I want to get down, please," said Dot. + +He lowered her from his shoulder to his arms with perfect ease, set her +on the ground, and held her fast. + +"Dot," he said, his voice sunk almost to a whisper, "if you're going to +be violent, I guess I shall be violent too." + +"Let me go!" said Dot. + +But still he held her. "Dot," he said again. "I won't hustle you any. I +swear I won't hustle you. But--my dear, you'll marry me some day. +Isn't that so?" + +Dot was silent. She was straining against his arms, and yet he held her, +not fiercely, not passionately, but with a mastery the greater for its +very coolness. + +"I'll wait for you," he said. "I'll wait three years. I shall be +twenty-five then, and you'll be twenty-one. But you'll marry me then, +Dot. You'll have to marry me then." + +"Have to!" flashed Dot. + +"Yes, have to," he repeated coolly. "You are mine." + +"I'm not, Bertie!" she declared indignantly. "How--how dare you hold me +against my will? And you're upsetting the apples too. Bertie, +you--you're a horrid cad!" + +"Yes, I know," said Bertie, an odd note of soothing in his voice. "That's +what you English people always do when you're beaten. You hurl insults, +and go on fighting. But it's nothing but a waste of energy, and only +makes the whipping the more thorough." + +"You hateful American!" gasped Dot. "As if--as if--we could be beaten!" + +She had struggled vainly for some seconds and was breathless. She turned +suddenly in his arms and placed her hands against his shoulders, forcing +him from her. Bertie instantly changed his position, seized her wrists, +drew them outward, drew them upward, drew them behind his neck. + +"And yet you love me," he said. "You love yourself better, but--you +love me." + +His face was bent to hers, he looked closely into her eyes. And--perhaps +it was something in his look that moved her--perhaps it was only the +realisation of her own utter impotence--Dot suddenly hid her face upon +his shoulder and began to cry. + +His arms were about her in an instant. He held her against his heart. + +"My dear, my dear, have I been a brute to you? I only wanted to make you +understand. Say, Dot, don't cry, dear, don't cry!" + +"I--I'm not!" sobbed Dot. + +"Of course not," he agreed. "Anyone can see that. But +still--darling--don't!" + +Dot recovered herself with surprising rapidity. "Bertie, you--you're a +great big donkey!" She confronted him with wet, accusing eyes. "What you +said just now wasn't true, and if--if you're a gentleman you'll +apologise." + +"I'll let you kick me all the way downstairs if you like," said +Bertie contritely. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I didn't mean +to make you--" + +"You didn't!" broke in Dot. "But you didn't tell the truth. That's why +I'm angry with you. You--told--a lie." + +"I?" said Bertie. + +He had taken his arms quite away from her now. He seemed in fact a little +afraid of touching her. But Dot showed no disposition to beat a retreat. +They faced each other in the old apple cupboard, as if it were the most +appropriate place in the world for a conflict. + +"Yes, you!" said Dot. + +"What did I say?" asked Bertie, hastily casting back his thoughts. + +She looked at him with eyes that seemed to grow more contemptuously +bright every instant. "You said," she spoke with immense deliberation, +"that I loved myself best." + +"Well?" said Bertie. + +"Well," she said, and took up her basket as one on the point of +departure, "it wasn't true. There!" + +"Dot!" His hand was on the basket too. He stopped her without touching +her. "Dot!" he said again. + +Dot's eyes began to soften, a dimple showed suddenly near the corner of +her mouth. "You shouldn't tell lies, Bertie," she said. + +And that was the last remark she made for several seconds, unless the +smothered protests that rose against Bertie's lips could be described as +such. They were certainly not emphatic enough to make any impression, and +Bertie treated them with the indifference they deserved. + +Driving home, he managed to steer with one hand while he thrust the other +upon his brother's knee. + +"Luke, old chap, I've gone dead against your wishes," he jerked out. +"And--for the first time in my life--I'm not sorry. She'll have me." + +"I thought she would," said Lucas. He grasped the boy's hand closely. +"There are times when a man--if he is a man--must act for himself, +eh, Bertie?" + +Bertie laughed a little. "I don't believe it was against your wishes +after all." + +"Well, p'r'aps not." There was a very kindly smile in the sunken eyes. "I +guess you're a little older than I thought you were, and anyway, she +won't marry you for the dollars." + +"She certainly won't," said Bertie warmly. "But she's horribly afraid of +people saying so, since Nap--" + +"Ah! Never mind Nap!" + +"Well, it's made a difference," Bertie protested. "We are not going to +marry for three years. And no one is to know we are engaged except you +and her father." + +"She doesn't mind me then?" + +There was just a tinge of humour in the words, and Bertie looked at +him sharply. + +"What are you grinning at? No, of course she doesn't mind you. But what's +the joke?" + +"Look where you're going, dear fellow. It would be a real pity to break +your neck at this stage." + +Bertie turned his attention to his driving and was silent for a little. + +Suddenly, "I have it!" he exclaimed. "You artful old fox! I believe you +had first word after all. I wondered that she gave in so easily. What did +you say to her?" + +"That," said Lucas gently, "is a matter entirely between myself and +one other." + +Bertie broke into his gay boyish laugh and sounded the hooter for sheer +lightness of heart. + +"Oh, king, live for ever--and then some! You're just the finest fellow in +the world!" + +"Open to question, I am afraid," said the millionaire with his quiet +smile. "And as to living for ever--well, I guess it's a cute idea in the +main, but under present conditions it's a notion that makes me tired." + +"Who said anything about present conditions?" demanded Bertie, almost +angrily; and then in an altered voice: "Old man, I didn't mean that, and +you know it. I only meant that you will always be wanted wherever you +are. God doesn't turn out a good thing like you every day." + +"Oh, shucks!" said Lucas Errol softly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE CHAMPION + + +When Mrs. Errol remarked in her deep voice, that yet compassed the +incomparable Yankee twang, that she guessed she wasn't afraid of any man +that breathed, none of those who heard the bold assertion ventured to +contradict her. + +Lucas Errol was entertaining a large house-party, and the great hall +was full of guests, most of whom had just returned from the day's +sport. The hubbub of voices was considerable, but Mrs. Errol's remark +was too weighty to be missed, and nearly everyone left off talking to +hear its sequel. + +Mrs. Errol, who was the soul of hospitality, but who, nevertheless, +believed firmly in leaving people to amuse themselves in their own way, +had only returned a few minutes before from paying a round of calls. She +was wrapped in furs from head to foot, and her large, kindly face shone +out of them like a November sun emerging from a mass of cloud. + +There was a general scramble to wait upon her, and three cups of tea were +offered her simultaneously, all of which she accepted with a nod of +thanks and a gurgle of laughter. + +"Put it down! I'll drink it presently. Where do you think I've just come +from? And what do you think I've been doing? I'll wager my last dollar no +one can guess." + +"Done!" said Nap coolly, as he pulled forward a chair to the blaze. +"You've been bearding the lion in his den, and not unsuccessfully, to +judge by appearances. In other words, you've been to the Manor and have +drunk tea with the lord thereof." + +Mrs. Errol subsided into the chair and looked round upon her interested +audience. "Well," she said, "you're right there, Nap Errol, but I +shan't part with my last dollar to you, so don't you worry any about +that. Yes, I've been to the Manor. I've had tea with Anne Carfax. And +I've talked to the squire as straight as a mother. He was pretty mad at +first, I can assure you, but I kept on hammering it into him till even +he began to get tired. And after that I made my points. Oh, I was +mighty kind on the whole. But I guess he isn't under any +misapprehension as to what I think of him. And I'm going over to-morrow +to fetch dear Anne over here to lunch." + +With which cheerful announcement Mrs. Errol took up one of her cups of +tea and drank it with a triumphant air. + +"I told him," she resumed, "he'd better watch his reputation, for he was +beginning to be regarded as the local Bluebeard. Oh, I was as frank as +George Washington. And I told him also that there isn't a man inside the +U.S.A. that would treat a black as he treats his wife. I think that +surprised him some, for he began to stutter, and then of course I had the +advantage. And I used it." + +"It must have been real edifying for Lady Carfax," drawled Nap. + +Mrs. Errol turned upon him. "I'm no bigger a fool than I look, Nap Errol. +Lady Carfax didn't hear a word. We had it out in the park. I left the +motor half way on purpose, and made his high mightiness walk down with +me. He was pretty near speechless by the time I'd done with him, but he +did just manage at parting to call me an impertinent old woman. And I +called him--a gentleman!" + +Mrs. Errol paused to swallow her second cup of tea. + +"I was wheezing myself by that time," she concluded. "But I'd had my say, +and I don't doubt that he is now giving the matter his full and careful +attention, which after all is the utmost I can expect. It may not do dear +Anne much good, but I guess it can't do her much harm anyway, and it was +beer and skittles to me. Why, it's five weeks now since she left, and +she's only been over once in all that time, and then I gather there was +such a row that she didn't feel like facing another till she was quite +strong again." + +"An infernal shame!" declared Bertie hotly. "I'll drive you over myself +to-morrow to fetch her. We'll get up some sports in her honour. I wonder +if she likes tobogganing." + +"I wonder if she will come," murmured Nap. + +Mrs. Errol turned to her third cup. "She'll come," she said with +finality; and no one raised any further question on that point. Mrs. +Errol in certain moods was known to be invincible. + +Though it was nearly the middle of March, the land was fast held in the +grip of winter. There had been a heavy fall of snow, and a continuous +frost succeeding it had turned Baronmead into an Alpine paradise. +Tobogganing and skating filled the hours of each day; dancing made fly +the hours of each night. Bertie had already conducted one ice gymkhana +with marked success, and he was now contemplating a masquerade on the +ornamental sheet of water that stretched before the house. Strings of +fairy lights were being arranged under his directions, and Chinese +lanterns bobbed in every bush. + +He was deeply engrossed in these preparations, but he tore himself away +to drive his mother to the Manor on the following morning. His alacrity +to do this was explained when he told her that he wanted to drop into the +Rectory and persuade the rector to bring Dot that night to see the fun, +to which plan Mrs. Errol accorded her ready approval, and even undertook +to help with the persuading, to Bertie's immense gratification. He and +his mother never talked confidences, but they understood each other so +thoroughly that words were superfluous. + +So they departed both in excellent spirits, while Lucas leaning upon +Nap's shoulder, went down to the lake to watch the skaters and to +superintend Bertie's preparations for the evening's entertainment. + +The voices of the tobogganists reached them from a steep bit of ground +half-a-mile away, ringing clearly on the frosty air. + +"The other side of that mound is tip-top for skiing," remarked Nap, +"better than you would expect in this country. But no one here seems +particularly keen on it. I was out early this morning and tried several +places that were quite passable, but that mound was the best!" + +"After dancing till three," commented Lucas. "What a restless +fellow you are!" + +Nap laughed a somewhat hard laugh. "One must do something. I never sleep +after dawn. It's not my nature." + +"You'll wear yourself to a shadow," smiled Lucas. "There's little enough +of you as it is--nothing but fire and sinew!" + +"Oh, rats, my dear fellow! I'm as tough as leather. There would need to +be something very serious the matter for me to lie in bed after daylight. +Just look at that woman doing eights! It's a sight to make you shudder." + +"Whom do you mean? Mrs. Van Rhyl? I thought you were an admirer of hers." + +Nap made a grimace. "Where is your native shrewdness? And I never +admired her skating anyway. It's about on a par with Mrs. Damer's +dancing. In the name of charity, don't ask that woman to come and help us +dance again. I'm not equal to her. It's yoking an elephant to a zebra." + +"I thought you liked Mrs. Damer," said Lucas. + +Nap grimaced again. "She's all right in the hunting-field. Leave her in +her own sphere and I can appreciate her." + +"Do you think you are capable of appreciating any woman?" asked Lucas +unexpectedly. + +Nap threw him a single fiery glance that was like a sword-thrust. His +slight figure stiffened to arrogance. But his answer, when it came, +was peculiarly soft and deliberate--it was also absolutely and +imperiously final. + +"I guess so." + +Lucas said no more, but he did not look wholly satisfied. There were +times in his dealings with Nap when even his tolerance would carry him +no further. + +They spent a considerable time on the terrace in front of the house. It +was a sheltered spot, and the sunshine that day was generous. + +"This place is doing you good," Nap remarked presently. "You are +considerably stronger than you were." + +"I believe I am," Lucas answered. "I sleep better." + +He had just seated himself on a stone bench that overlooked the lake. +His eyes followed the darting figures of the skaters with a certain +intentness. + +Nap leaned upon the balustrade and watched him. "Why don't you see Capper +again?" he asked suddenly. + +The millionaire's gaze gradually lost its intentness and grew remote. "I +am afraid he is on the wrong side of the Atlantic," he said. + +"You can cable to him." + +"Yes, I know." Slowly Lucas raised his eyes to his brother's face. "I can +have him over to tell me what he told me before--that I haven't the +recuperative strength essential to make his double operation a success." + +"He may tell you something different this time." Nap spoke insistently, +with the energy of one not accustomed to accept defeat. + +Lucas was silent. + +"Say, Lucas"--there was more than insistence in his tone this time; it +held compulsion--"you aren't faint-hearted?" + +The blue eyes began to smile. "I think not, Boney. But I've got to hang +on for the present--till you and the boy are married. P'r'aps then--I'll +take the risk." + +Nap looked supercilious. "And if it is not my intention to marry?" + +"You must marry, my dear fellow. You'll never be satisfied otherwise." + +"You think marriage the hall-mark of respectability?" Nap sneered openly. + +"I think," Lucas answered quietly, "that for you marriage is the +only end. The love of a good woman would be your salvation. Yes, you +may scoff. But--whether you admit it or not--it is the truth. And +you know it." + +But Nap had ceased already to scoff; the sneer had gone from his face. He +had turned his head keenly as one who listens. + +It was nearly a minute later that he spoke, and by that time the humming +of an approaching motor was clearly audible. + +Then, "It may be the truth," he said, in a tone as deliberate as his +brother's, "and it may not. But--no good woman will ever marry me, Luke. +And I shall never marry--anything else." + +He stooped, offering his shoulder for support. "Another guest, I fancy. +Shall we go?" + +He added, as they stood a moment before turning, "And if you won't send +for Capper--I shall." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE MASQUERADE + + +The brothers were standing together on the steps when Anne alighted from +the car, and her first thought as she moved towards them was of their +utter dissimilarity. They might have been men of different nationalities, +so essentially unlike each other were they in every detail. And yet she +felt for both that ready friendship that springs from warmest gratitude. + +Nap kept her hand a moment in his grasp while he looked at her with that +bold stare of his that she had never yet desired to avoid. On the +occasion of her last visit to Baronmead they had not met. She wondered if +he were about to upbraid her for neglecting her friends, but he said +nothing whatever, leaving it to Lucas to inquire after her health while +he stood by and watched her with those dusky, intent eyes of his that +seemed to miss nothing. + +"I am quite strong again, thank you," she said in answer to her host's +kindly questioning. "And you, Mr. Errol?" + +"I am getting strong too," he smiled. "I am almost equal to running +alone; but doubtless you are past that stage. Slow and sure has been my +motto for some years now." + +"It is a very good one," said Anne, in that gentle voice of hers that was +like the voice of a girl. + +He heard the sympathy in it, and his eyes softened; but he passed the +matter by. + +"I hope you have come to stay. Has my mother managed to persuade you?" + +"She will spend to-night anyway," said Mrs. Errol. + +"And only to-night," said Anne, with quiet firmness. "You are all very +kind, but--" + +"We want you," interposed Lucas Errol. + +She smiled, a quick smile that seemed reminiscent of happier days. "Yes, +and thank you for it. But I must return in good time to-morrow. I told my +husband that I would do so. He is spending the night in town, but he will +be back to-morrow." + +Nap's teeth were visible, hard clenched upon his lower lip as he +listened, but still he said nothing. There was something peculiarly +forcible, even sinister, in his silence. Not until Anne presently turned +and directly addressed him did his attitude change. + +"Will you take me to see the lake?" she said. "It looked so charming as +we drove up." + +He moved instantly to accompany her. They went out together into the +hard brightness of the winter morning. + +"It is so good to be here," Anne said a little wistfully. "It is like a +day in paradise." + +He laughed at that, not very pleasantly. + +"It is indeed," she persisted, "except for one thing. Now tell me; in +what have I offended?" + +"You, Lady Carfax!" His brows met for an instant in a single, +savage line. + +"Is it only my fancy?" she said. "I have a feeling that all is not +peace." + +He stopped abruptly by the balustrade that bounded the terrace. "The +queen can do no wrong," he said. "She can hurt, but she cannot offend." + +"Then how have I hurt you, Nap?" she said. + +The quiet dignity of the question demanded an answer, but it was slow in +coming. He leaned his arms upon the balustrade, pulling restlessly at the +ivy that clung there. Anne waited quite motionless beside him. She was +not looking at the skaters; her eyes had gone beyond them. + +Abruptly at length Nap straightened himself. "I am a fool to take you to +task for snubbing me," he said. "But I am not accustomed to being +snubbed. Let that be my excuse." + +"Please tell me what you mean," said Anne. + +He looked at her. "Do you tell me you do not know?" + +"Yes," she said. Her clear eyes met his. "Why should I snub you? I +thought you were a friend." + +"A friend," he said, with emphasis. "I thought so too. But--" + +"Yes?" she said gently. + +"Isn't it customary with you to answer your friends when they write to +you?" he asked. + +Her expression changed. A look of sharp pain showed for an instant in her +eyes. "My invariable custom, Nap," she said very steadily. + +"Then--that letter of mine--" he paused. + +"When did you write it?" + +"On the evening of the day you came here last--the day I missed you." + +"It did not reach me," she said, her voice very low. + +He was watching her very intently. "I sent it by messenger," he said. "I +was hunting that day. I sat down and wrote the moment I heard you had +been. Tawny Hudson took it." + +"It did not reach me," she repeated. She was very pale; her eyes had +dropped from his. + +"I was going to allow you a month to answer that letter," he went on, as +though she had not spoken. "After that, our--friendship would have been +at an end. The month will be up to-morrow." + +Anne was silent. + +"Lady Carfax," he said, "will you swear to me that you never received +that letter?" + +"No," she said. + +"You will not?" + +"I will not." + +He made a sudden movement--such a movement as a man makes involuntarily +at an unexpected dart of pain. + +Anne raised her eyes very quietly. "Let us be quite honest," she said. +"No oath is ever necessary between friends." + +"You expect me to believe you?" he said, and his voice was shaken by some +emotion he scarcely tried to hide. + +She smiled very faintly. "You do believe me," she said. + +He turned sharply from her. "Let us go down," he said. + +They went down to the garden below the terrace, walking side by side, in +silence. They stood at the edge of the lake together, and presently they +talked--talked of a hundred things in which neither were greatly +interested. A few people drifted up and were introduced. Then Bertie came +running down, and their _tete-a-tete_ was finally at an end. + +They were far away from one another during luncheon, and when the meal +was over Nap disappeared. He never concerned himself greatly about his +brother's guests. + +At Bertie's persuasion Anne had brought skates, and she went down with +him to the lake in the afternoon, where they skated together till +sunset. She had a curious feeling that Nap was watching her the whole +time, though he was nowhere to be seen; nor did he appear at tea in the +great hall. + +Later Mrs. Errol took possession of her, and they sat together in the +former's sitting-room till it was time to dress for dinner. Anne had +brought no fancy dress, but her hostess was eager to provide for her. +She clothed her in a white domino and black velvet mask, and insisted +upon her wearing a splendid diamond tiara in the shape of a heart in her +soft hair. + +When she finally descended the stairs in Mrs. Errol's company, a slim man +dressed as a harlequin in black and silver, who was apparently waiting +for her halfway down, bowed low and presented a glorious spray of crimson +roses with the words: "For the queen who can do no wrong!" + +"My, Nap! How you startled me!" ejaculated Mrs. Errol. + +But Anne said nothing whatever. She only looked him straight in the eyes +for an instant, and passed on with the roses in her hand. + +During dinner she saw nothing of him. The great room was crowded with +little tables, each laid for two, and she sat at the last of all with her +host. Later she never remembered whether they talked or were silent. She +only knew that somewhere the eyes that had watched her all the afternoon +were watching her still, intent and tireless, biding their time. But +silence in Lucas Errol's company was as easy as speech. Moreover, a +string band played continuously throughout the meal, and the hubbub +around them made speech unnecessary. + +When they went out at last on to the terrace the whole garden was +transformed into a paradise of glowing colours. The lake shone like a +prism of glass, and over all the stars hung as if suspended very near +the earth. + +Lucas went down to the edge of the ice, leaning on his valet. Bertie, +clad as a Roman soldier, was already vanishing in the distance with +someone attired as a Swiss peasant girl. Mrs. Errol, sensibly wrapped +in a large motoring coat, was maintaining a cheery conversation with +the rector, who looked cold and hungry and smiled bluely at +everything she said. + +Anne stood by her host and watched the gay scene silently. "You ought to +be skating," he said presently. + +She shook her head. "Not yet. I like watching. It makes me think of when +I was a girl." + +"Not so very long ago, surely!" he said, with a smile. + +"Seven years," she answered. + +"My dear Lady Carfax!" + +"Yes, seven years," she repeated, and though she also smiled there was a +note of unspeakable dreariness in her voice. "I was married on my +eighteenth birthday." + +"My dear Lady Carfax," he said again. And with that silence fell once +more between them, but in some magic fashion his sympathy imparted itself +to her. She could feel it as one feels sudden sunshine on a cold day. It +warmed her to the heart. + +She moved at length, turning towards him, and at once he spoke, as if +she had thereby set him at liberty to do so. + +"Shall I tell you what I do when I find myself very badly up against +anything?" he said. + +"Yes, tell me." Instinctively she drew nearer to him. There was that +about this man that attracted her irresistibly. + +"It's a very simple remedy," he said, "simpler than praying. One can't +always pray. I just open the windows wide, Lady Carfax. It's a +help--even that." + +"Ah!" she said quickly. "I think your windows must be always open." + +"It seems a pity to shut them," he answered gently. "There is always a +sparrow to feed, anyway." + +She laughed rather sadly. "Yes, there are always sparrows." + +"And sometimes bigger things," he said, "things one wouldn't miss for +half creation." + +"Or lose again for the other half," said the cool voice of a skater who +had just glided up. + +Anne started a little, but Lucas scarcely moved. + +"Lady Carfax is waiting to go on the ice," he said. + +"And I am waiting to take her," the new-comer said. + +His slim, graceful figure in its black, tight-fitting garb sparkled at +every turn. His eyes shone through his velvet mask like the eyes of an +animal in the dark. + +He glided nearer, but for some reason inexplicable to herself, Anne +stepped back. + +"I don't think I will," she said. "I am quite happy where I am." + +"You will be happier with me," said the harlequin, with imperial +confidence. + +He waved his hand to Hudson standing a few paces away with her skates, +took them from him, motioned her to the bank. + +She stepped forward, not very willingly. Hudson, at another sign, spread +a rug for her. She sat down, and the glittering harlequin kneeled upon +the ice before her and fastened the blades to her feet. + +It only took a couple of minutes; he was deft in all his ways. And +then he was on his feet again, and with a royal gesture had helped +her to hers. + +Anne looked at him half dazzled. The shimmering figure seemed to be +decked in diamonds. + +"Are you ready?" he said. + +She looked into the glowing eyes and felt as if some magic attraction +were drawing her against her will. + +"So long!" called Lucas from the bank. "Take care of her, Boney." + +In another moment they were gliding into that prism of many lights and +colours, and the harlequin, holding Anne's hands, laughed enigmatically +as he sped her away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS + + +It seemed to Anne presently that she had left the earth altogether, and +was gliding upwards through starland without effort or conscious movement +of any sort, simply as though lifted by the hands that held her own. +Their vitality thrilled through her like a strong current of electricity. +She felt that whichever way they turned, wherever they led her, she must +be safe. And there was a quivering ecstasy in that dazzling, rapid rush +that filled her veins like liquid fire. + +"Do you know where you are?" he asked her once. + +And she answered, in a species of breathless rapture, "I feel as if I +were caught in a rainbow." + +He laughed again at that, a soft, exultant laugh, and drew her more +swiftly on. + +They left the other masqueraders behind; they left the shimmering +lake and its many lights; and at last in the starlight only they +slackened speed. + +Anne came out of her trance of delight to find that they were between the +banks of the stream that fed the lake. The ground on each side of them +shone white and hard in the frost-bound silence. The full moon was just +rising over a long silver ridge of down. She stood with her face to its +cold splendour, her hands still locked in that vital grip. + +Slowly at last, compelled she knew not how, she turned to the man beside +her. His eyes were blazing at her with a lurid fire, and suddenly that +sensation that had troubled her once before in his presence--a sensation +of sharp uneasiness--pricked through her confidence. + +She stood quite still, conscious of a sudden quickening of her heart. But +she did not shrink from that burning gaze. She met it with level eyes. + +For seconds they stood so, facing one another. He seemed to be trying in +some fashion to subjugate her, to beat her down; but she would not yield +an inch. And it was he who finally broke the spell. + +"Am I forgiven?" + +"For what?" she said. + +"For pretending to disbelieve you this morning." + +"Was it pretence?" she asked. + +"No, it wasn't!" he told her fiercely. "It was deadly earnest. I would +have given all I had to be able to disbelieve you. Do you know that?" + +"But why, Nap?" + +"Why?" he said. "Because your goodness, your purity, are making a slave +of me. If I could catch you--if I could catch you only once--cheating, as +all other women cheat, I should be free. But you are irreproachable and +incorruptible. I believe you are above temptation." + +"Oh, you don't know me," she interposed quietly. "But even if I were all +these things, why should it vex you?" + +"Why?" he said. "Because you hold me back, you check me at every turn. +You harness me to your chariot wheels, and I have to run in the path of +virtue whether I will or not!" + +He broke off with a laugh that had in it a note of savagery. + +"Don't you even care to know what was in that letter that you never had?" +he asked abruptly. + +"Tell me!" she said. + +"I told you that I was mad to have missed you that day. I begged you to +let me have a line before you came again. I besought you to let me call +upon you and to fix a day. I signed myself your humble and devoted slave, +Napoleon Errol." + +He ceased, still laughing queerly, with his lower lip between his teeth. + +Anne stood silent for many seconds. + +At last, "You must never come to see me," she said very decidedly. + +"Not if I bring the mother as a chaperon?" he jested. + +"Neither you nor your mother must ever come to see me again," she +said firmly. "And--Nap--though I know that the writing of that +letter meant nothing whatever to you, I am more sorry than I can say +that you sent it." + +He threw back his head arrogantly. "What?" he said. "Has the queen no +further use for her jester? Am I not even to write to you then?" + +"I think not," she said. + +"And why?" he demanded imperiously. + +"I think you know why," she said. + +"Do I know why? Is it because you are afraid of your husband?" + +"No." + +"Afraid of me then?" There was almost a taunt in the words. + +"No," she said again. + +"Why, then?" He was looking full into her eyes. There was something +peculiarly sinister about his masked face. She almost felt as if he were +menacing her. + +Nevertheless she made unfaltering reply. "For a reason that means much +to me, though it may not appeal to you. Because my husband is not +always sane, and I am afraid of what he might do to you if he were +provoked any further." + +"Great Lucifer!" said Nap. "Does he think I make love to you then?" + +She did not answer him. "He is not always sane," she repeated. + +"You are right," he said. "That reason does not appeal to me. Your +husband's hallucinations are not worth considering. But I don't propose +on that account to write any more letters for his edification. For the +future--" He paused. + +"For the future," Anne said, "there must be no correspondence between us +at all. I know it seems unreasonable to you, but that cannot be helped. +Mr. Errol, surely you are generous enough--chivalrous enough--to +understand." + +"No, I don't understand," Nap said. "I don't understand how you can, by +the widest stretch of the imagination, believe it your duty to conform to +the caprices of a maniac." + +"How can I help it?" she said very sadly. + +He was silent a moment. His hands were still gripping hers; she +could feel her wedding-ring being forced into her flesh. "Like our +mutual friend, Major Shirley," he said slowly, "I wonder why you +stick to the man." + +She turned her face away with a sound that was almost a moan. + +"You never loved him," he said with conviction. + +She was silent. Yet after a little, as he waited, she spoke as one +compelled. + +"I live with him because he gave me that for which I married him. He +fulfilled his part of the bargain. I must fulfil mine. I was nothing but +his bailiff's daughter, remember; a bailiff who had robbed him--for whose +escape from penal servitude I paid the price." + +"Great Heavens!" said Nap. + +She turned to him quickly, with an impulsiveness that was almost girlish. +"I have never told anyone else," she said. "I tell you because I know +you are my friend and because I want you to understand. We will +never--please--speak of it again." + +"Wait!" Nap's voice rang stern. "Was it part of the bargain that he +should insult you, trample on you, make you lead a dog's life without a +single friend to make it bearable?" + +She did not attempt to answer him. "Let us go back," she said. + +He wheeled at once, still holding her hands. + +They skated a few yards in silence. Then suddenly, almost under his +breath, he spoke. "I am not going to give up my friendship with you. Let +that be clearly understood." + +"You are very good to me," she said simply. + +"No. I am not. I am human, that's all. I don't think this state of +affairs can last much longer." + +She shuddered. Her husband's condition had been very much worse of late, +but she did not tell him so. + +They were skating rapidly back towards the head of the lake. In front of +them sounded the swirling rush of skates and the laughter of many voices. + +"I'm sorry I've been a beast to you," Nap said abruptly. "You mustn't +mind me. It's just my way." + +"Oh, I don't mind you, Nap," she answered gently. + +"Thanks!" he said. + +And with that he stooped suddenly and shot forward like a meteor, bearing +her with him. + +They flashed back into the gay throng of masqueraders, and mingled with +the crowd as though they had never left it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE DESCENT FROM OLYMPUS + + +"Come and say good-bye to Lucas," said Bertie. "He is up and +asking for you." + +So, with an impetuous hand upon Anne's arm, he whisked her away on the +following morning to his brother's room. She was dressed for departure, +and waiting for the motor that was to take her home. Of Nap she had seen +nothing. He had a way of absenting himself from meals whenever it suited +him to do so. She wondered if he meant to let her go without farewell. + +She found the master of the house lying on a couch sorting his +correspondence. He pushed everything aside at her entrance. + +"Come in, Lady Carfax! I am glad not to have missed you. A pity you have +to leave so soon." + +"I only wish I could stop longer," Anne said. He looked up at her, +holding her hand, his shrewd blue eyes full of the most candid +friendliness. + +"You will come again, I hope, when you can," he said. + +"Thank you," she answered gently. + +He still held her hand. "And if at any time you need the help--or +comfort--of friends," he said, "you won't forget where to look?" + +"Thank you," she said again. + +"Is Nap driving you?" he asked. + +"No," said Bertie. "Nap's skiing." + +"Then you, Bertie--" + +"My dear fellow," said Bertie, "I'm fearfully sorry, but I can't. You +understand, don't you, Lady Carfax? I would if I could, but--" his +excuses trailed off unsatisfactorily. + +He turned very red and furiously jabbed at the fire with his boot. + +"Please don't think of it," said Anne. "I am so used to being alone. In +fact, your mother wanted to come with me, but I dissuaded her." + +"Then I conclude it is useless for me to offer myself as an escort?" +said Lucas. + +"Yes, quite useless," she smiled, "though I am grateful to you all the +same. Good-bye, Mr. Errol!" + +"Good-bye!" he said. + +As Bertie closed the door behind her he took up a letter from the heap at +his elbow; but his eyes remained fixed for several seconds. + +At length: "Bertie," he said, without looking up, "are you due at the +Rectory this morning?" + +"This afternoon," said Bertie. + +He also bent over the pile of correspondence and began to sort. He often +did secretarial work for Lucas. + +Lucas suffered him for some seconds longer. Then, "You don't generally +behave like a boor, Bertie," he said. + +"Oh, confound it!" exclaimed Bertie, with vehemence. "You don't suppose I +enjoyed letting her think me a cad, do you?" + +"I don't suppose she did," Lucas said thoughtfully. + +"Well, you do anyway, which is worse." + +Bertie slapped down the letters and walked to the fire. + +Lucas returned without comment to the paper in his hand. + +After a long pause Bertie wheeled. He came back to his brother's side and +pulled up a chair. His brown face was set in stern lines. + +"I don't see why I should put up with this," he said, "and I don't +mean to. It was Nap's doing. I was going to drive her. He +interfered--as usual." + +"I thought you said Nap was skiing." Lucas spoke without raising his +eyes. He also looked graver than usual. + +"I did. He is. But he has got some game on, and he didn't want me +looking on. Oh, I'm sick to death of Nap and all his ways! He's rotten +to the core!" + +"Gently, boy, gently! You go too far." Lucas looked up into the hot blue +eyes, the severity all gone from his own. "It isn't what things look like +that you have to consider. It is what they are. Nap, poor chap, is badly +handicapped; but he has been putting up a big fight for himself lately, +and he hasn't done so badly. Give the devil his due." + +"What's he doing now?" demanded Bertie. "It's bad enough to have the +whole community gossiping about his flirtations with women that don't +count. But when it comes to a good woman--like Lady Carfax--oh, I tell +you it makes me sick! He might leave her alone, at least. She's miserable +enough without him to make matters worse." + +"My dear boy, you needn't be afraid for Lady Carfax." Lucas Errol's voice +held absolute conviction. "She wouldn't tolerate him for an instant if he +attempted to flirt with her. Their intimacy is founded on something more +solid than that. It's a genuine friendship or I have never seen one." + +"Do you mean to say you don't know he is in love with her?" +ejaculated Bertie. + +"But he won't make love to her," Lucas answered quietly. "He is drawn by +a good woman for the first time in his life, and no harm will come of it. +She is one of those women who must run a straight course. There are a few +such, born saints, 'of whom the world is not worthy.'" He checked himself +with a sudden sigh. "Suppose we get to business, Bertie." + +"It's all very fine," said Bertie, preparing to comply. "But if Nap ever +falls foul of Sir Giles Carfax, he may find that he has bitten off more +than he can chew. They say he is on the high road to the D.T.'s. Small +wonder that Lady Carfax looks careworn!" + +Small wonder indeed! Yet as Anne sped along through the sunshine on that +winter day she found leisure from her cares to enjoy the swift journey in +the great luxurious car. The burden she carried perpetually weighed less +heavily upon her than usual. The genial atmosphere of Baronmead had +warmed her heart. The few words that Lucas had spoken with her hand in +his still echoed through her memory. Yes, she knew where to look for +friends; no carping critics, but genuine, kindly friends who knew and +sympathised. + +She thought of Nap with regret and a tinge of anxiety. She was sure he +had not intended to let her go without farewell, but she hoped earnestly +that he would not pursue her to the Manor to tell her so. + +And then she remembered his letter; that letter that her husband must +have intercepted, recalling his storm of unreasonable fury on the +occasion of her last return from Baronmead. He had doubtless read that +letter and been inflamed by it. Hating her himself, he yet was fiercely +jealous of her friends--these new friends of hers who had lavished upon +her every kindness in her time of need, to whom she must always feel +warmly grateful, however churlishly he might ignore the obligation. + +He had raised no definite objection to this present visit of hers. Mrs. +Errol had, in her own inimitable fashion, silenced him, but she had known +that she had gone against his wish. And it was in consequence of this +knowledge that she was returning so early, though she did not expect him +back till night. He should have no rational cause for complaint against +her. For such causes as his fevered brain created she could not hold +herself responsible. + +It was hard to lead such a life without becoming morbid, but Anne was +fashioned upon generous lines. She strove ever to maintain the calm level +of reason wherewith to temper the baleful influence of her husband's +caprice. She never argued with him; argument was worse than futile. But +steadfastly and incessantly she sought by her moderation to balance the +difficulties with which she was continually confronted. And to a certain +extent she succeeded. Open struggles were very rare. Sir Giles knew that +there was a limit to her submission, and he seldom, if ever now, +attempted to force her beyond that limit. + +But she knew that a visit from Nap would place her in an intolerable +position, and with all her heart she hoped that her caution of the +previous day had taken effect. Though utterly reckless on his own +account, she fancied that she had made an impression upon him, and that +he would not act wholly without consideration for her. In bestowing her +friendship upon him she had therewith reposed a confidence which his +invariable compliance with her wishes had seemed to warrant. She did not +think that her trust would ever prove to have been misplaced. But she was +sorry, unquestionably she was sorry, to have left without bidding him +farewell. It might be long ere they would meet again. + +And with the thought yet in her mind she looked out of the window in +front of her, and saw his slim, supple figure, clad in a white sweater, +shoot swiftly down a snow-draped slope ahead of her, like a meteor +flashing earthwards out of the blue. + +His arms were extended; his movements had a lithe grace that was +irresistibly fascinating to the eye. Slight though he was, he might have +been a young god descending on a shaft of sunshine from Olympus. But the +thought that darted all unbidden through Anne's mind was of something far +different. She banished it on the instant with startled precipitancy; but +it left a scar behind that burned like the sudden searing of a hot iron. +"I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven." + +The car was stopping. The figure on skis was waiting motionless by the +roadside. It ran smoothly up to him and stopped. + +"Dramatic, wasn't it?" smiled Nap. "Did you think you were going to +escape without another word?" + +"I had almost begun to think so," she admitted, smiling also. + +He stooped to take off the skis, then stepped to the door. He leaned +towards her. There was no faintest sign of cynicism in his face that day. +He was in the mood of good comradeship in which she liked him best. + +"Walk across to the park with me," he said. "It is scarcely a mile by the +downs. The man can go on to the Manor with your things and wait here for +me on his way back." + +Anne considered for a moment, but only for a moment. It might make her +late for the luncheon hour, but she was convinced that her husband would +not return before the evening. And the world was very enchanting that +winter day. The very ground was scattered with diamonds! + +"Yes, I will come," she said. + +He handed her out, and picked up his discarded skis. His dark face smiled +with a certain triumph. The grim lines about his mouth were less apparent +than usual. He moved with the elastic swing of well-knit limbs. + +And Anne, walking beside him, found it not difficult to thrust her cares +a little farther into the sombre background of her mind. The sun shone +and the sky was blue, and the ground was strewn with glittering diamonds. +She went over the hill with him, feeling that she had snatched one more +hour in paradise. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +VENGEANCE + + +By what magic he cajoled her into trying her skill upon skis Anne never +afterwards remembered. It seemed to her later that the exhilarating +atmosphere of that cloudless winter day must in some magic fashion have +revived in her the youth which had been crushed out of existence so long +ago. A strange, irresponsible happiness possessed her, so new, so subtly +sweet, that the heavy burden she had borne for so long seemed almost to +have shrunk into insignificance. It permeated her whole being like an +overpowering essence, so that she forgot the seven dreary years that +separated her from her girlhood, forgot the bondage to which she was +returning, the constant, ever-increasing anxiety that wrought so +mercilessly upon her; and remembered only the splendour of the sunshine +that sparkled on the snow, and the ecstasy of the keen clear air she +breathed. It was like an enchanting dream to her, a dream through which +she lived with all the greater zest because it so soon must pass. + +All the pent energies of her vanished youth were in the dream. She could +not--for that once she could not--deny them vent. + +And Nap, strung to a species of fierce gaiety that she had never seen in +him before, urged her perpetually on. He would not let her pause to +think, but yet he considered her at every turn. He scoffed like a boy at +her efforts to ski, but he held her up strongly while he scoffed, taking +care of her with that adroitness that marked everything he did. And while +they thus dallied the time passed swiftly, more swiftly than either +realised. The sun began to draw to the south-west. The diamonds ceased to +sparkle save here and there obliquely. The haze of a winter afternoon +settled upon the downs. + +Suddenly Anne noticed these things, suddenly the weight of care which had +so wonderfully been lifted from her returned, suddenly the shining +garment of her youth slipped from her, and left her like Cinderella when +the spell of her enchantment was broken. + +"Nap!" she exclaimed. "I must go! I must have been dreaming to forget +the time!" + +"Time!" laughed Nap. "What is time?" + +"It is something that I have to remember," she said. "Why, it must be +nearly two o'clock!" + +Nap glanced at the sun and made no comment. Anne felt for and consulted +her watch. It was already three. + +She looked up in amazement and dismay. "I must go at once!" + +"Don't!" said Nap. "I am sure your watch is wrong." + +"I must go at once," she repeated firmly. "It is long past the luncheon +hour. I had no idea we had been here so long. You must go too. Your +chauffeur will think you are never coming." + +The skis were still on her feet. Nap looked at her speculatively. + +"This is rather an abrupt end," he said. "Won't you have one more go? A +few minutes more or less can't make any difference now." + +"They may make all the difference," Anne said. "Really, I ought not." + +They stood on a gentle slope that led downwards to the path she +must take. + +"Just ski down into the valley from here then," urged Nap. "It's quicker +than walking. I won't hold you this time. You won't fall." + +The suggestion was reasonable, and the fascination of the sport had taken +firm hold of her. Anne smiled and yielded. She set her feet together and +let herself go. + +Almost at the same instant a sound that was like the bellow of an +infuriated bull reached her from above. + +She tried to turn, but the skis were already slipping over the snow. To +preserve her balance she was forced to go, and for seconds that seemed +like hours she slid down the hillside, her heart thumping in her throat; +her nerves straining and twitching to check that maddening progress. For +she knew that sound. She had heard it before, had shrunk secretly many a +time before its coarse brutality. It was the yell of a man in headlong, +furious wrath, an animal yell, unreasoning, hideously bestial; and she +feared, feared horribly, what that yell might portend. + +She reached the valley, and managed to swerve round without falling. But +for an instant she could not, she dared not, raise her eyes. Clear on the +frosty air came sounds that made her blood turn cold. She felt as if her +heart would suffocate her. A brief blindness blotted out all things. + +Then with an agonised effort she forced back her weakness, she forced +herself to look. Yes, the thing she had feared so horribly was being +enacted like a ghastly nightmare above her. + +There on the slope was her husband, a gigantic figure outlined against +the snow. He had not stopped to parley. Those mad fits of passion always +deprived him, at the outset, of the few reasoning powers that yet +remained to him. Without question or explanation of any kind he had flung +himself upon the man he deemed his enemy, and Anne now beheld him, +gripping him by the neck as a terrier grips a rat, and flogging him with +the loaded crop he always carried to the hunt. + +Nap was writhing to and fro like an eel, striving, she saw, to overthrow +his adversary. But the gigantic strength of madness was too great for +his lithe activity. By sheer weight he was borne down. + +With an anguished cry Anne started to intervene. But two steps with the +skis flung her headlong upon the snow, and while she grovelled there, +struggling vainly to rise, she heard the awful blows above her like +pistol-shots through the stillness. Once she heard a curse, and once a +demonical laugh, and once, thrilling her through and through, spurring +her to wilder efforts, a dreadful sound that was like the cry of a +stricken animal. + +She gained her feet at last, and again started on her upward way. Nap had +been forced to his knees, but he was still fighting fiercely, as a rat +will fight to the last. She cried to him wildly that she was coming, was +coming, made three paces, only to trip and fall again. + +Then she knew that, so handicapped, she could never reach them, and with +shaking, fumbling fingers she set herself to unfasten the straps that +bound the skis. It took her a long, long time--all the longer for her +fevered haste. And still that awful, flail-like sound went on and on, +though all sound of voices had wholly ceased. + +Free at last, she stumbled to her feet, and tore madly up the hill. She +saw as she went that Nap was not struggling any longer. He was hanging +like a wet rag from the merciless grip that upheld him, and though his +limp body seemed to shudder at every crashing blow, he made no voluntary +movement of any sort. + +As she drew near, her husband suddenly swung round as though aware of +her, and dropped him. He fell in a huddled heap upon the snow, and lay, +twisted, motionless as a dead thing. + +Sir Giles, his eyes suffused and terrible, turned upon his wife. + +"There lies your gallant lover!" he snarled at her. "I think I've cured +him of his fancy for you." + +Her eyes met his. For a single instant, hatred, unveiled, passionate, +shone out at him like sudden, darting lightning. For a single instant she +dared him with the courage born of hatred. It was a challenge so distinct +and personal, so fierce, that he, satiated for the moment with revenge, +drew back instinctively before it, as an animal shrinks from the flame. + +She uttered not a word. She did not after that one scorching glance deign +to do battle with him. Without a gesture she dismissed him, kneeling +beside his vanquished foe as though he were already gone. + +And--perhaps it was the utter intrepidity of her bearing that deprived +him of the power to carry his brutality any further just then--perhaps +the ferocity that he had never before encountered in those grey eyes +cowed him somewhat in spite of the madness that still sang in his +veins--whatever the motive power it was too potent to resist--Sir Giles +turned and tramped heavily away. + +Anne did not watch him go. It was nothing to her at the moment whether he +went or stayed. She knelt beside the huddled, unconscious figure and +tried to straighten the crumpled limbs. The sweater had been literally +torn from his back, and the shirt beneath it was in blood-stained +tatters. His face was covered with blood. Sir Giles had not been +particular as to where the whip had fallen. Great purple welts crossed +and re-crossed each other on the livid features. The bleeding lips were +drawn back in a devilish grimace. He looked as though he had been +terribly mauled by some animal. + +Anne gripped a handful of snow, hardly knowing what she did, and tried to +stanch the blood that ran from an open cut on his temple. She was not +trembling any longer. The emergency had steadied her. But the agony of +those moments was worse than any she had ever known. + +Minutes passed. She was beginning to despair. An icy dread was at her +heart. He lay so lifeless, so terribly inert. She had attempted to lift +him, but the dead weight was too much for her. She could only rest his +head against her, and wipe away the blood that trickled persistently from +that dreadful, sneering mouth. Would he ever speak again, she asked +herself? Were the fiery eyes fast shut for ever? Was he dead--he whose +vitality had always held her like a charm? Had her friendship done this +for him, that friendship he had valued so highly? + +She stooped lower over him. The anguish of the thought was more than she +could bear. + +"O God," she prayed suddenly and passionately, "don't let him die! Don't +let him die!" + +And in that moment Nap's eyes opened wide and fixed themselves upon her. + +He did not attempt to move or speak, but the snarling look went wholly +out of his face. The thin lips met and closed over the battered mouth. He +lay regarding her intently, as if he were examining some curious thing he +had never seen before. + +And before that gaze Anne's eyes wavered and sank. She felt she could +never meet his look again. + +"Are you better?" she whispered. "Can I--will you let me--help you?" + +"No," he said. "Just--leave me!" He spoke quite quietly, but the very +sound of his voice sent a perfect storm of emotion through her. + +"I can't!" she said almost fiercely. "I won't! Let me help you! Let me do +what I can!" + +He stirred a little, and his brow contracted, but he never took his eyes +from her face. + +"Don't be--upset," he said with an effort. "I'm not going--to die!" + +"Tell me what to do," she urged piteously. "Can I lift you a +little higher?" + +"For Heaven's sake--no!" he said, and swallowed a shudder. "My +collar-bone's broken." + +He was silent for a space, but still his dusky eyes watched her +perpetually. + +At last, "Let me hold your hand," he said. + +She put it into his, and he held it tightly. The blood was running down +his face again, and she wiped it softly away. + +"Thank you," he said. + +Those two words, spoken almost under his breath, had a curious effect +upon her. She felt as if something had suddenly entered and pierced her +heart. Before she knew it, a sharp sob escaped her, and then all in a +moment she broke down. + +"Oh, Nap, Nap," she sobbed, "I wish I had died before this could happen!" + +She felt his hand tighten as she crouched there beside him in her +anguish, and presently she knew that he had somehow managed to raise +himself to a sitting posture. + +Through her agony his voice came to her. It was pitched very low, yet +she heard it. + +"Don't cry--for pity's sake! I shall get over it. I shall live--to get +back--my own." + +Torn by emotion as she was, something in the last words, spoken in that +curious undertone, struck her with a subtle force. With a desperate +effort she controlled herself. She knew that he was still watching her +with that strange intensity that she could not bring herself to meet. His +right hand still held hers with quivering tenacity; the other trailed +uselessly on the snow. + +"Let me help you," she urged again. + +He was silent; she feared he was going to refuse. And then she saw that +his head had begun to droop forward, and realised that he was on the +verge of another collapse. Instinctively she slipped her arm about his +shoulders, supporting him. He was shuddering all over. She drew his head +to rest against her. + +A long time passed thus, she kneeling motionless, holding him, while he +panted against her breast, struggling with dogged persistence to master +the weakness that threatened to overpower him. It was terrible to see him +so, he the arrogant, the fierce, the overbearing, thus humbled to the +earth before her. She felt the agony of his crushed pride, and yearned +with an intensity that was passionate to alleviate it. But there seemed +nothing for her to do. She could only kneel and look on in bitter +impotence while he fought his battle. + +In the end he lifted his face. "It's the collarbone that hurts so +infernally. Could you push something under my left arm to hold it up? +Your muff would do. Mind my wrist--that's broken too. Ah!" She heard the +breath whistle sharply between his lips as with the utmost care she +complied with these instructions, but almost instantly he went on: "Don't +be afraid of touching me--unless I'm too monstrous to touch. But I don't +believe I can walk." + +"I will help you," she said. "I am very strong." + +"You are--wonderful," he said. + +And the words comforted her subtly though she did not know exactly what +he meant by them. + +Thereafter they scarcely spoke at all. By slow degrees he recovered his +self-command, though she knew with only too keen a perception how +intolerable was the pain that racked his whole body. With her assistance +and with strenuous effort he managed at last to get upon his feet, but he +was immediately assailed afresh by deadly faintness, and for minutes he +could stand only by means of her arms upholding him. + +Later, with his one available arm across her shoulders, he essayed to +walk, but it was so ghastly an ordeal that he could accomplish only a few +steps at a time. + +Anne did not falter now. She was past that stage. All her nerves were +strung to meet his pressing need. Again and again as he hung upon her, +half-fainting, she stopped to support him more adequately till he had +fought down his exhaustion and was ready to struggle on again. She +remained steadfast and resolute throughout the long-drawn-out agony of +that walk over the snow. + +"Great Heaven!" he muttered once. "That you should do this--for me!" + +And she answered him quickly and passionately, as though indeed there +were something within that spoke for her, "I would do anything for +you, Nap." + +It was drawing near to sunset when at last the end of the journey came in +sight. Anne perceived the car waiting in the distance close to the spot +where Nap had descended upon her that morning. + +She breathed a sigh of thankfulness. "I scarcely thought he would have +waited for you so long," she said. + +"He daren't do otherwise," said Nap, and she caught a faint echo of +arrogance in the words. + +And then of his own free will he paused and faced her. "You are coming +with me," he said. + +She shook her head. "No, Nap." + +His eyes blazed redly. His disfigured face was suddenly devilish. "You +are mad if you go back," he said. + +But she shook her head again. "No, I know what I am doing. And I am going +back now. But I will come to Baronmead in the morning." + +He looked at her. "Are you--tired of life?" he asked abruptly. + +She smiled--a piteous smile. "Very, very tired!" she said. "But you +needn't be afraid of that. He will not touch me. He will not even see me +to-night." Then, as he still looked combative, "Oh, please, leave this +matter to my judgment! I know exactly what I am doing. Believe me, I am +in no danger." + +He gave in, seeing that she was not to be moved from her purpose. + +They went a few yards farther; then, "In Heaven's name--come early to +Baronmead," he said jerkily. "I shall have no peace till you come." + +"I will," she promised. + +The chauffeur came to meet them with clumsy solicitude as they neared the +car, but Nap kept him at a distance. + +"Don't touch me! I've had a bad fall skiing. It's torn me to ribbons. +Just open the door. Lady Carfax will do the rest!" And as the man turned +to obey, "Not a very likely story, but it will serve our turn." + +"Thank you," she said very earnestly. + +He did not look at her again. She had a feeling that he kept his eyes +from her by a deliberate effort of the will. + +Silently she helped him into the car, saw him sink back with her muff +still supporting his injured arm, whispered a low "Good-bye!" and turned +to the waiting chauffeur. + +"Drive him quickly home," she said. "And then go for a doctor." + +Not till the car was out of sight did she realise that her knees were +shaking and refusing to support her. She tottered to a gate by the +roadside, and there, clinging weakly with her head bowed upon her arms, +she remained for a very long time. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE VISION + + +It was growing dusk when Anne at length came to the Manor. She was +utterly weary and faint from lack of food. The servant who admitted her +looked at her strangely, as if half afraid. + +"Please have tea taken to my sitting-room," she said quietly, as she +passed him. + +And with that she went straight to her room. Standing before a mirror to +remove her hat, she caught sight of something that seemed to stab her +heart. The cream cloth coat she wore was all spattered with blood. + +She stood rigid, not breathing, staring into the white face above +it--the white face of a woman she hardly knew, with compressed lips and +wild, tragic eyes. What was it those eyes held? Was it hatred? Was it +madness? Was it--? + +She broke away horror-stricken, and stripped the coat from her with hands +like ice. Again through her mind, with feverish insistence, ran those +words that had startled her earlier in the day. She found herself +repeating them deliriously, under her breath: "I beheld Satan--as +lightning--fall from heaven!" + +Why did they haunt her so? What was it in the utterance that +frightened her? What meaning did they hold for her? What hidden terror +lay behind it? What had happened to her? What nightmare horror was +this clawing at her heart, lacerating, devouring, destroying? It was +something she had never felt before, something too terrible to face, +too overwhelming to ignore. + +Was she going mad, she asked herself? And like a dreadful answer to a +riddle inscrutable her white lips whispered those haunting unforgettable +words: "I beheld Satan--as lightning--fall from heaven." + +Mechanically she bathed her face and hands and passed into her +sitting-room, where her tea awaited her. A bright fire crackled there, +and her favourite chair was drawn up to it. The kettle hissed merrily on +a spirit-lamp. + +Entering, she found, somewhat to her surprise, old Dimsdale waiting to +serve her. + +"Thank you," she said. "I can help myself." + +"If your ladyship will allow me," he said deferentially. + +She sat down, conscious of a physical weakness she could not control. And +the old butler, quiet and courteous and very grave, proceeded to make the +tea and wait upon her in silence. + +Anne lay back in her chair with her eyes upon the fire, and accepted his +ministrations without further speech. There was a very thorough +understanding between herself and Dimsdale, an understanding established +and maintained without words. + +The tea revived her, and after a little she turned her head and looked +up at him. + +"Well, Dimsdale?" + +Dimsdale coughed. "It was about Sir Giles that I wanted to speak to your +ladyship." + +"Well?" she said again. + +"Sir Giles, my lady, is not himself--not at all himself," Dimsdale told +her cautiously. "I was wondering just before you came in if I didn't +ought to send for the doctor." + +"Why, Dimsdale?" Anne looked straight up into the old man's troubled +face, but her eyes had a strangely aloof expression, as though the matter +scarcely touched her. + +Dimsdale shook his head. "It's not the same as usual, my lady. I've never +seen him like this before. There's something--I don't rightly know +what--about him that fair scares me. If your ladyship will only let me +send for the doctor--" + +He paused. Anne's eyes had gone back to the fire. She seemed to be +considering. + +"I don't think the doctor would be at home," she said at last. "Wait till +the morning, Dimsdale--unless he is really ill." + +"My lady, it's not that," said Dimsdale. "There's nothing ails his body. +But--but--" he faltered a little, and finally, "It's his mind," he said, +"if I may make so bold as to say it. I don't believe as he's safe. I'm +afraid he'll be doing a mischief to--someone." + +His pause was not lost upon Anne. Again she raised her eyes and steadily +regarded him. + +"To whom, Dimsdale?" she asked. + +"My lady--" the old man murmured unwillingly. + +"To me?" she questioned in a quiet, unmoved voice. "Why are you +afraid of that?" + +Dimsdale hesitated. + +"Tell me," she said. But again her eyes had sunk to the fire. She seemed +as one not vitally interested, as one whose thoughts were elsewhere. + +Reluctantly Dimsdale made answer: "He's been cutting your ladyship's +portrait into strips and burning 'em in the study fire. It was dreadful +to see him, so intent like and quiet. I saw him put his hand right into +the flame once, and he didn't seem to know. And he came in in one of his +black moods with his hunting-crop broken right in two. Carrying the +pieces he was, and glaring like as if all the world was against him. I +was afraid there would be trouble when he came home to lunch and found +your ladyship not there." + +He stopped, arrested by a sudden movement from Anne. She had leaned +forward and covered her face with her hands. The tension of her attitude +was such that Dimsdale became strongly aware that his presence was an +intrusion. Yet, the matter being urgent, he stood his ground. + +He waited silently, and presently Anne lifted her head. "I think you +must leave the matter till the morning, Dimsdale," she said. "It could do +no good to have the doctor at this hour. Besides, I doubt if he could +come. And Sir Giles will be himself again after a night's rest." + +"I'm very much afraid not, my lady," said Dimsdale lugubriously. "He's +drinking brandy--neat brandy--all the while. I've never seen him drink +like that before. It fair scares me, and that's the truth." + +"You are not afraid on your own account?" Anne asked. + +"Oh, no, my lady. He wouldn't interfere with me. It's your ladyship--" + +"Ah, well," she said, quietly interrupting, "you need not be afraid for +me either. I shall not go downstairs again to-night. He will not be +expecting me." + +"Very good, my lady." + +Dimsdale looked somewhat relieved but not wholly satisfied. He lingered +as if he longed yet did not dare to say more. + +As for Anne, she sat quite motionless gazing into the fire, her hands +clasped very tightly before her. She seemed to have dismissed the subject +under discussion and the faithful Dimsdale simultaneously from her mind. + +After a few seconds the old butler realised this, and without further ado +he removed the tea-things and went quietly away. + +Anne did not notice his departure. She was too deep in thought. Her +brain was steadier now, and she found it possible to think. For the first +time she was asking herself if she would be justified in bringing her +long martyrdom to an end. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain, +patiently, conscientiously, unflaggingly, throughout those seven bitter +years. She had married her husband without loving him, and he had never +sought to win her love. He had married her for the sake of conquering +her, attracted by the very coldness with which she had tried in her +girlhood to repel him. She had caught his fancy in those far-off days. +Her queenliness, her grace, had captivated him. And later, with the sheer +hunter's instinct, he had pursued her, and had eventually discovered a +means of entrapping her. He had named his conditions and she had named +hers. In the end he had dispatched the father to Canada and made the +daughter his wife. + +But his fancy for her had scarcely outlasted his capture. He had taken +pleasure for a while in humiliating her, counting it sport if he +succeeded in arousing her rare indignation. But soon even this had ceased +to amuse him. He had developed into that most odious of all bullies, the +domestic tyrant, and had therewith sunk back into those habits of +intemperance which his marriage had scarcely interrupted. He was many +years her senior. He treated her as a slave, and if now and then an +uncomfortable sensation of inferiority assailed him, he took his revenge +upon her in evil, glowering tempers that rendered him more of a beast +than a man. + +But yet she had borne with him. By neither word nor action had she ever +voluntarily widened the breach between them: His growing dislike had not +had any visible effect upon her. She had done her duty faithfully through +all, had borne his harshness and his insults in silence, with a patience +too majestic, too colossal, for his understanding. + +And now for the first time she asked herself, Did he want to be rid of +her? Had he invented this monstrous grievance to drive her from him? Were +the days of her bondage indeed drawing at last to an end? Had she borne +with him long enough? Was she free--was she free to go? + +Her heart quickened at the bare thought. How gladly would she set herself +to make a living when once this burden had been lifted from her! + +But she would not relinquish it without his sanction. She would be +faithful to the last, true to that bargain she had struck with him so +long ago. Yet surely he could not refuse it. She was convinced that he +hated her. + +Again she felt that strange new life thrilling in her veins. Again she +felt herself almost young. To be free! To be free! To choose her own +friends without fear; to live her own life in peace; to know no further +tumults or petty tyrannies--to be free! + +The prospect dazzled her. She lifted her face and gasped for breath. + +Then, hearing a sound at her door, she turned. + +A white-faced servant stood on the threshold. "If you please, my lady, +your coat is in a dreadful state. I was afraid there must have been an +accident." + +Anne stared at the woman for a few seconds with the dazed eyes of one +suddenly awakened. + +"Yes," she said slowly at length. "There was--an accident. Mr. Nap Errol +was--hurt while skiing." + +The woman looked at her with frank curiosity, but there was that about +her mistress at the moment that did not encourage inquiry or comment. + +She stood for a little silent; then, "What had I better do with the coat, +my lady?" she asked diffidently. + +Anne made an abrupt gesture. The dazed look in her eyes had given place +to horror. "Take it away!" she said sharply. "Do what you like with it! I +never want to see it again." + +"Very good, my lady." + +The woman withdrew, and Anne covered her face with her hands once more, +and shuddered from head to foot. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT THE MERCY OF A DEMON + + +Some time later Anne seated herself at her writing-table. + +The idea of writing to her husband had come to her as an inspiration; not +because she shirked an interview--she knew that to be inevitable--but +because she realised that the first step taken thus would make the final +decision easier for them both. + +She did not find it hard to put her thoughts into words. Her mind was +very clear upon the matter in hand. She knew exactly what she desired to +say. Only upon the subject of her friendship with Nap she could not bring +herself to touch. A day earlier she could have spoken of it, even in the +face of his hateful suspicion, without restraint. But to-night she could +not. It was as if a spell of silence had been laid upon her, a spell +which she dared not attempt to break. She dared not even think of Nap +just then. + +It was not a very long letter that she wrote, sitting there in the +silence of her room, and it did not take her long to write. But when it +was finished, closed and directed, she sat on with her chin upon her +hand, thinking. It seemed scarcely conceivable that he would refuse to +let her go. + +She could not imagine herself to be in any sense necessary to him. She +had helped him with the estate in many ways, but she had done nothing +that a trustworthy agent could not do, save, perhaps, in the matter of +caring for the poorer tenants. They would miss her, she told herself, but +no one else. It was very long since she had entertained any guests at the +Manor. Sir Giles had offended almost everyone who could ever have claimed +the privilege of intimacy with him. And people wondered openly that his +wife still lived with him. Well, they would not wonder much longer. + +And when her life was at her own disposal what would she do with it? + +There were many things she might do; as secretary, as companion, as +music-teacher, as cook. She knew she need not be at a loss. And again the +prospect of freedom from a yoke that galled her intolerably made her +heart leap. + +A slight sound in the passage brought her out of her reverie. She glanced +up. It was probably Dimsdale. She would give him the note to deliver to +his master in the morning. She crossed to the door and opened it. + +The next instant, in amazement, she drew back. On the threshold, face to +face with her, stood her husband! + +He did not give her time to speak, but pushed straight forward into the +room as if in haste. His face was white and purple in patches. His eyes +were narrowed and furtive. There was something unspeakably evil in the +way they avoided hers. He carried his right hand behind him. + +He began to speak at once in quick, staccato tones, with which she was +utterly unfamiliar. + +"So you think you are going to escape me, do you? But you won't! No, not +for all the Errols in the world!" + +She did not answer him. There was something so utterly unusual in this +abrupt visitation that she knew not how to cope with it. But he scarcely +waited for an answer. He swung the door behind him with a bang. + +"Do you remember," he said, his staccato tone merging into one of rising +violence, "a promise I made to you the first time I caught that scoundrel +making love to you? I swore that if it happened again I'd thrash him. +Well, I'm a man who keeps his promises. I've kept that one. And now it's +your turn. I thought at first I'd kill you. But I fancy this will hurt +you more." + +His hand shot suddenly out from behind him, and there followed the +whistle of a thong--the thick, leathern thong with which he kept his +dogs in order. + +It struck her as she stood before him, struck and curled about her +shoulders with a searching, scalding agony that turned her sick, wringing +from her a cry that would never have been uttered had she been prepared. + +But before he could strike again she was ready to cope with his madness. +On the instant she sprang, not from him, but to him, clasping his arms +with both of hers. + +"Giles!" she said, and her voice rang clear and commanding. "You are not +yourself. You don't know what you are doing. Look at me! Do you hear? +Look at me!" + +That was his vulnerable point, and instinctively she knew it. He was +afraid--as a wild animal is afraid--of the compulsion of her eyes. But he +fought with her savagely, furiously, refusing to face her, struggling +with inarticulate oaths to break away from her clinging arms. + +And Anne was powerless against him, powerless as Nap had been earlier +in the day, to make any impression against his frenzied strength. She +was impotent as a child in that awful grip, and in a very few seconds +she knew it. + +He had already wrung his arm free and raised it to strike a second blow, +while she shut her eyes in anguished expectation, still clinging blindly +to his coat, when the door burst open with a crash and Dimsdale tore +into the room. + +Anne heard his coming, but she could not turn. She was waiting with every +nerve stretched and quivering for the thong to fall. And when it did +not, when Dimsdale, with a strength abnormal for his years, flung himself +at the upraised arm and bore it downwards, she was conscious not of +relief, but only of a sudden snapping of that awful tension that was like +a rending asunder of her very being. She relaxed her hold and tottered +back against the wall. + +"He will kill you!" she heard herself saying to Dimsdale. "He will +kill you!" + +But Dimsdale clung like a limpet. Through the surging uproar of her +reeling senses Anne heard his voice. + +"Sir Giles! Sir Giles! This won't do, sir. You've got a bit beyond +yourself. Come along with me, Sir Giles. You are not well. You ought to +be in bed. Now, now, Sir Giles! Give it up! Come! Here's West to help +you undress." + +But Sir Giles fought to be free, cursing hideously, writhing this way and +that with Dimsdale hanging to him; and at sight of the footman hastening +to the old man's assistance he put forth a strength so terrific that he +swung him completely off the ground. + +"He's too much for me!" shouted Dimsdale. "My lady, go--go, for the love +of heaven! Quick, West! Quick! Trip him! It's the only way! Ah!" + +They went down in a fearful, struggling heap. Sir Giles underneath, but +making so violent a fight that the whole room seemed to shake. + +And Anne stood and looked upon the whole ghastly spectacle as one +turned to stone. + +So standing, propped against the wall, she saw the young under-footman +come swiftly in, and had a glimpse of his horrified face as he leapt +forward to join the swaying, heaving mass of figures upon the floor. His +coming seemed to make a difference. Sir Giles's struggles became less +gigantic, became spasmodic, convulsive, futile, finally ceased +altogether. He lay like a dead man, save that his features twitched +horribly as if evil spirits were at work upon him. + +The whole conflict had occupied but a few minutes, but to the rigid +watcher it had been an eternity of fearful tumult. Yet the hard-breathing +silence that followed was almost more terrible still. + +Out of it arose old Dimsdale, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. + +"He didn't hurt your ladyship?" he questioned anxiously. + +But she could not take her eyes from the motionless figure upon the floor +or answer him. + +He drew nearer. "My lady," he said, "come away from here!" + +But Anne never stirred. + +He laid a very humble hand upon her arm. "Let me take you downstairs," he +urged gently. "There's a friend there waiting for your ladyship--a +friend as will understand." + +"A--friend?" She turned her head stiffly, her eyes still striving to +remain fixed upon that mighty, inert form. + +"Yes, my lady. He only came a few minutes back. He is waiting in the +drawing-room. It was Sir Giles he asked to see, said it was very +particular. It was West here took the message to Sir Giles, and I think +it was that as made him come up here so mad like. I came after him as +soon as I heard. But the gentleman is still waiting, my lady. Will you +see him and--explain?" + +"Who is the gentleman?" Anne heard the question, but not as if she +herself had uttered it. The voice that spoke seemed to come from an +immense distance. + +And from equally far seemed to come Dimsdale's answer, though it reached +and pierced her understanding in an instant. + +"It's Mr. Errol, my lady,--the crippled one. Mr. Lucas, I think +his name is." + +Anne turned then as sharply as though a voice had called her. + +"Lucas Errol! Is he here? Ah, take me to him! Take me to him!" + +And the old butler led her thankfully from the scene. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE CITY OF REFUGE + + +The moment Lucas Errol's hand closed upon hers it was to Anne as if an +immense and suffocating weight had been lifted from her, and with it all +her remaining strength crumbled away as if her burden alone had +sustained her. + +She looked at him, meeting the kind, searching eyes without effort, +trying piteously to speak, but her white lips only moved soundlessly, her +throat seemed paralysed. + +"Her ladyship has had a shock, sir," explained Dimsdale. + +"Won't you sit down?" said Lucas gently. In a moment she found herself +sitting on a sofa with this stanch friend of hers beside her, holding her +hand. A few words passed between him and Dimsdale, which she scarcely +heard and was too weak to comprehend, and then they were alone together, +she and Lucas in a silence she felt powerless to break. + +"You mustn't mind me, Lady Carfax," he said. "I know what you have come +through. I understand." + +Dimly she heard the words, but she could not respond to them. She +was shivering, shivering with a violence that she was utterly unable +to repress. + +He did not speak again till Dimsdale came back with a tray, then again he +exchanged a few murmured sentences with the old butler, who presently +said, "Very good, sir," and went softly away. + +Then Lucas turned again to Anne. "Drink this," he said. "It will +revive you." + +She groped for the glass he held towards her, but trembled so much that +she could not take it. + +"Let me," he said, and put it himself to her lips. + +She drank slowly, shuddering, her teeth chattering against the glass. + +"Lay your head down upon the cushion," he said then, "and shut your eyes. +You will be better soon." + +"You--you won't go?" she managed to whisper. + +"Why, no," he said. "It's for your sake I've come. I guess I'm a fixture +for so long as you want me." + +She breathed a sigh of relief and lay back. + +A long time passed. Anne lay motionless with closed eyes, too crushed for +thought. And Lucas Errol watched beside her, grave and patient and still. + +Suddenly there came a sound, piercing the silence, a sound that made Anne +start upright in wild terror. + +"What is it? What is it?" + +Instantly and reassuringly Lucas's hand clasped hers. "Don't be afraid!" +he said. "They are moving him to another room, that's all." + +She sank back, shuddering, her face hidden. The sound continued, seeming +to come nearer--the sound of a man's voice shrieking horribly for help, +in piercing accents of terror that might have come from a +torture-chamber. Suddenly the yells became articulate, resolved into +words: "Anne! Anne! Anne!" in terrible crescendo. + +She sprang up with a sharp cry. + +But on the instant the man beside her spoke. "Anne, you are not to go." + +She paused irresolute. "I must! I must! He is calling me!" + +"You are not to go," he reiterated, and for the first time she heard the +dominant note in his voice. "Come here, child! Come close to me! It will +soon be over." + +Her irresolution passed like a cloud. She looked down, saw his blue eyes +shining straight up at her, kind still, but compelling. And she dropped +upon her knees beside him and hid her face upon his shoulder, with the +cry of, "Help me! Help me! I can't bear it!" + +He folded his arms about her as though he had been a woman, and +held her fast. + +Long after the awful sounds had died away Anne knelt there, sobbing, +utterly unstrung, all her pride laid low, herself no more than a broken, +agonised woman. But gradually, from sheer exhaustion, her sobs became +less anguished, till at length they ceased. A strange peace, wholly +unaccountable, fell gently upon her torn spirit. But even then it was +long before she moved. She felt an overwhelming reluctance to withdraw +herself from the shelter of those quiet arms. + +"What must you think of me?" she whispered at last, her face still +hidden. + +"My dear," he said, "I understand." + +He did not offer to release her, but as she moved she found herself free, +she found herself able to look into his face. + +"I shall never forget your goodness to me," she said very earnestly. + +He smiled a little, after a fashion she did not wholly comprehend. "My +dear Lady Carfax! You underrate friendship when you say a thing like +that. Sit down, won't you? And let me tell you what brought me here." + +"Nap told you--" she hazarded. + +"Yes, Nap told me. And I decided I had better come at once. I wasn't in +when he got back, or I should have been here sooner. I saw there had been +a gross misunderstanding, and I hoped I should be able to get your +husband to take a reasonable view." + +"Ah!" she said, with a shiver. "I--I'm thankful you didn't meet." + +"I am sorry," Lucas said quietly. And though he said no more, she knew +that he was thinking of her. + +"How is Nap?" she ventured hesitatingly. + +"Nap," he said with deliberation, "will be himself again in a very few +weeks. You need have no anxiety for him." + +Again she did not wholly understand his tone. She glanced at him +nervously, half afraid that he was keeping something from her. + +"You really mean that?" + +His eyes met hers, very level and direct. "He is badly battered, of +course. But--he is not quite like other men. He has no nerves to speak of +in a physical sense. He will make a quick recovery. Broken bones mean +very little to a man of his calibre." + +She heard him with relief mingled with a faint wonder at his confidence +on this point. + +"The doctor has seen him?" she asked. + +"Yes; and I have sent my man in the motor to ask him to come on here." + +She shivered again irrepressibly. "Giles hates Dr. Randal." + +"I do not think that will make any difference," Lucas said gently. + +Thereafter they sat together almost in silence, till the buzzing of the +motor told of the doctor's arrival. Then with the aid of a stick Lucas +began to drag himself laboriously to his feet. Anne rose to help him. + +He took her arm, looking at her shrewdly. + +"Lady Carfax, will you let me speak to him alone?" + +"If you wish it," she said. + +"I do wish it." His eyes passed hers suddenly and rested upon the lace at +her neck. In one place it was torn, and the soft flesh was revealed; +revealed also was a long red stripe, swollen and turning. In an instant +his glance fell, but she saw his brows contract as if at a sharp twinge +of pain. "I do wish it," he said again very gently. "P'r'aps you will +wait for me here." + +And with that he relinquished her arm, and made his halting, difficult +way across the room to the door. + +Anne sat down before the fire to wait. She had, to a large extent, +recovered her self-control, but a deadly weariness was upon her which she +found it impossible to shake off. She kept it at bay for a time while she +listened for any sound. But no sound came, and at length exhausted nature +prevailed. + +When Lucas came back she was sunk in her chair asleep. + +He took up his stand near her while he waited for the doctor, and again +that deep furrow showed between his brows. But the eyes that watched her +were soft and tender as a woman's. There was something almost maternal in +their regard, a compassion so deep as to be utterly unconscious of +itself. When the doctor's step sounded at length outside he shuffled away +without disturbing her. + +It was hours later when Anne awoke and sat up with a confused sense of +something wrong. She was still in her easy-chair before the fire, which +burned brightly as ever, while on the other side of the hearth, propped +upright upon cushions and watching her with those steady blue eyes, whose +kindness never varied, was Lucas Errol. + +He spoke to her at once, very softly and gently, as if she had +been a child. + +"I'm real pleased you've had a sleep. You needed it. Don't look so +startled. It's all right--a little late, but that's nothing. Dimsdale +and I agreed that it would be a pity to disturb you. So we let you sleep +on. And he brought in a tray of refreshments to fortify you when you +awoke. He's a thoughtful old chap, Lady Carfax. You're lucky to have +such a servant." + +But Anne scarcely heard him. She was staring at the clock in amazement. +It was half-past three! Just twelve hours since--She repressed a +violent shudder. + +"Don't be shocked any!" besought Lucas in his easy drawl. "I'm often +awake at this hour. I guessed you wouldn't sleep if we woke you to go to +your room, and I didn't quite like the thought of being down here out of +reach. You are not vexed with me, I hope?" + +"No," she said. "I am not vexed." + +But she looked at him very strangely, as if that were not all she +desired to say. + +"Dimsdale has been in and out," he said, "keeping the fire going. He and +one of the others are watching upstairs. But all is quiet there. Sir +Giles has been asleep ever since the doctor left." + +Anne got up slowly. "You look very uncomfortable," she said. + +He smiled up at her. "My dear Lady Carfax, I am all right. The advantage +of this position is that one can rise at a moment's notice." + +As if to demonstrate the truth of this he rose, but not without +considerable effort. + +"Ah, please don't!" she said, putting out a quick, restraining hand. "It +hurts me to see you suffer on my account. It was too kind of you--much +too kind--to stay with me like this. You will never know how much you +have helped me, and I thank you for it with all my heart. Now please sit +down again, and let me wait upon you for a change. Have you had anything +to eat or drink?" + +He sat down again, looking quizzical. "I have been waiting for my hostess +to join me," he said. + +"Do you ever think of yourself at all?" she asked, turning aside to the +tray that Dimsdale's consideration had provided. + +"A great deal more often than you imagine," smiled Lucas. "Must you +really do the waiting? It's very bad for me, you know." + +He joked with her gently through the light repast that followed. And +though she scarcely responded, she let him see her gratitude. + +Finally, he laid aside all pretence of humour and spoke to her very +quietly and gravely of her husband. The doctor thought it advisable to +remove him from the Manor with as little delay as possible. He would +consult her about it in the morning. His brain was without doubt very +seriously affected, and it might take some months to recover. It was +essential that he should be taken away from familiar surroundings and +people whom he knew. + +Anne listened with a whitening face. She asked no questions. Lucas +supplied every detail with the precision that characterised most of his +utterances. Finally he spoke of her position, advised her strongly to +employ an agent for the estate, and promised his help in this or any +other matter in which she might care to avail herself of it. + +He seemed to take it for granted that she would remain at the head of +affairs, and it gradually dawned upon Anne that she could not well do +otherwise. Her presence for a time at least seemed indispensable. The +responsibility had become hers and she could not at that stage shake it +off. Her dream of freedom was over. Of what the future might hold for her +she could not even begin to think. But the present was very clearly +defined. It remained only for her to "do the work that was nearest" as +bravely as she might. + +When Lucas ended she leaned forward and gave him her hand. "I wonder +what I should have done without you," she said. "I believe I should +have gone mad too." + +"No, no, Lady Carfax!" + +She smiled faintly; the tears were standing in her eyes. "Yes, I know. +You don't like to be thanked. But you have been like a mother to me in my +trouble, and--I shall always remember it." + +The blue eyes began to twinkle humorously. The hand that held hers closed +with a very friendly pressure. + +"Well," drawled the kindly American voice, "I'll be shot if that +isn't the kindest thing that anyone ever said to me. And I believe +you meant it too." + +"Yes, I meant it," Anne said. + +And though she smiled also there was genuine feeling in her words. + + + + +PART II + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE JESTER'S RETURN + + +The gradual coming of spring that year was like a benediction after the +prolonged rigour of the frost. The lengthening evenings were wrapped in +pearly mystery, through which the soft rain fell in showers of blessing +upon the waiting earth. To Anne, it was as though a great peace had +descended upon all things, quelling all tumult. She had resolutely taken +up her new burden, which was so infinitely easier than the old, and she +found a strange happiness in the bearing of it. The management of her +husband's estate kept her very fully occupied, so that she had no time +for perplexing problems. She took each day as it came, and each day left +her stronger. + +Once only had she been to Baronmead since the masquerade on the ice. It +was in fulfilment of her promise to Nap, but she had not seen him; and as +the weeks slipped by she began to wonder at his prolonged silence. For +no word of any sort reached her from him. He seemed to have forgotten her +very existence. That he was well again she knew from Lucas, who often +came over in the motor with his mother. + +As his brother had predicted he had made a rapid recovery; but no sooner +was he well than he was gone with a suddenness that surprised no one but +Anne. She concluded that his family knew where he was to be found, but no +news of his whereabouts reached her. Nap was the one subject upon which +neither Mrs. Errol nor her elder son ever expanded, and for some nameless +reason Anne shrank from asking any questions regarding him. She was +convinced that he would return sooner or later. She was convinced that, +whatever appearances might be, he had not relinquished the bond of +friendship that linked them. She did not understand him. She believed him +to be headlong and fiercely passionate, but beneath all there seemed to +her to be a certain stability, a tenacity of purpose, that no +circumstance, however tragic, could thwart. She knew, deep in the heart +of her she knew, that he would come back. + +She would not spend much thought upon him in those days. Something +stood ever in the path of thought. Invariably she encountered it, and +as invariably she turned aside, counting her new peace as too precious +to hazard. + +Meanwhile she went her quiet way, sometimes aided by Lucas, but more +often settling her affairs alone, neither attempting nor desiring to +look into the future. + +The news of Sir Giles's illness spread rapidly through the neighbourhood, +and people began to be very kind to her. She knew no one intimately. Her +husband's churlishness had deprived her of almost all social intercourse, +but never before had she realised how completely he was held responsible +for her aloofness. + +Privately, she would have preferred to maintain her seclusion, but it was +not in her to be ungracious. She felt bound to accept the ready sympathy +extended to her. It touched her, even though, had the choice been hers, +she would have done without it. Lucas also urged her in his kindly +fashion not to lead a hermit's existence. Mrs. Errol was insistent upon +the point. + +"Don't you do it, dear," was her exhortation. "There may not be much good +to be got out of society, I'll admit. But it's one better than solitude. +Don't you shut yourself up and fret. I reckon the Lord didn't herd us +together for nothing, and it's His scheme of creation anyway." + +And so Anne tried to be cordial; with the result that on a certain +morning in early May there reached her a short friendly note from Mrs. +Damer, wife of the M.F.H., begging her to dine with them quite informally +on the following night. + +"There will only be a few of us, all intimate friends," the note said. +"Do come. I have been longing to ask you for such an age." + +Anne's brows drew together a little over the note. She had always liked +Mrs. Damer, but her taste for dinner-parties was a minus quantity. Yet +she knew that the invitation had been sent in sheer kindness. Mrs. Damer +was always kind to everyone, and it was not the fashion among her circle +of friends to disappoint her. + +Anne considered the matter, contemplated an excuse, finally rejected it, +and wrote an acceptance. + +She wore the dress of shimmering green in which she had appeared at the +Hunt Ball. Vividly the memory of that night swept across her. She had not +worn it since, and scarcely knew what impulse moved her to don it now. It +well became her stately figure. Dimsdale, awaiting her departure at the +hall-door, looked at her with the admiring reverence he might have +bestowed upon a queen. + +Again, during her drive through the dark, the memory of that winter night +flashed back upon her. She recalled that smooth, noiseless journey in +which she had seemed to be borne upon wings. She recalled her misery and +her weariness, her dream and her awakening. Nap had been very good to her +that night. He had won her confidence, her gratitude, her friendship. His +reputation notwithstanding, she had trusted him fully, and she had not +found him wanting. A faint sigh rose to her lips. She was beginning to +miss this friend of hers. + +But the next moment she had drawn back sharply and swiftly, as if she +had encountered an angel with a flaming sword. This was the path down +which she would not wander. Why should she wish to do so? There were so +many other paths open to her now. + +When she stepped at length from the carriage her face was serene and +quiet as the soft spring night behind her. + +Upstairs she encountered the doctor's wife patting her hair before a +mirror. She turned at Anne's entrance. + +"Why, Lady Carfax! This is indeed a pleasure. I am so glad to see +you here." + +There was genuine pleasure in her voice, and Anne remembered with a smile +that Mrs. Randal liked her. + +They chatted as she removed her wraps, and finally descended together, +Mrs. Randal turning at the head of the stairs to whisper: "There's that +horrid old gossip, Major Shirley. I know he will fall to my lot. He +always does. How shall I direct the conversation into safe channels?" + +Anne could only shake her head. She knew that Mrs. Randal was not +celebrated for discretion. + +Entering the drawing-room, they found Major Shirley with his wife and +daughter, Ralph and Dot Waring, and the doctor, assembled with their host +and hostess. + +Mrs. Damer glanced at the clock after greeting them. "The Errols +are late." + +Anne chanced to be speaking to Dot at the moment, and the girl's magic +change of countenance called her attention to the words. She wondered if +her own face changed, and became uneasily aware of a sudden quickening of +the heart. Quietly she passed on to speak to the Shirleys. The major +looked her up and down briefly and offensively as his manner was, and she +escaped from his vicinity as speedily as possible. His wife, a powdered, +elderly lady, sought to detain her, but after a few moments Anne very +gently detached herself, accepting the seat which young Ralph Waring +eagerly offered her. + +There followed a somewhat lengthy and by no means easy pause. +Conversation was spasmodic. Everyone was listening for the arrival of the +last guests, and when after some minutes there came the rush of wheels +under the window and the loud hoot of a motor everyone jumped. Mrs. +Damer, who had talked hard through the silences, made no comment but +looked unutterably relieved. + +Dot openly and eagerly watched the door, and Anne with a conscious effort +suppressed an inclination to do likewise. + +When it opened she looked up quite naturally, and surely no one suspected +the wild leaping of her heart. + +Nap entered--sleek, trim, complacent; followed by Bertie, whose brown +face looked unmistakably sullen. + +"Sorry we are late," drawled Nap, "Bertie will make our excuses." + +But Bertie said nothing, and it was left to Mrs. Damer to step into +the breach. + +She did so quite gallantly, if somewhat clumsily. "I am very pleased to +see you, Nap; but, you know, it was your brother whom we expected. I +didn't so much as know that you were at home." + +"Oh, quite so," smiled Nap. "Don't apologise--please!" He bent slightly +over her hand. "So good of you not to mind the exchange. I know I am a +poor substitute. But my brother is entertaining an old friend who has +arrived unexpectedly, so I persuaded him to send me in his place. He +charged me with all manner of excuses and apologies, which I have not +delivered since I know them to be unnecessary." + +Mrs. Damer found it impossible not to smile at his calm effrontery, even +though she knew Major Shirley to be frowning behind her back. + +"When did you return?" she asked. "Someone said you were in the States." + +"I was," said Nap. "I returned half an hour ago; hence our late arrival, +for which I humbly beg to apologise, and to entreat you not to blame +Bertie, who, as you perceive, is still speechless with suspense." + +"Oh, you Americans!" laughed Mrs. Damer. "You are never at a loss. Do let +us go in to dinner. No, Nap! The doctor will take me. Will you take Miss +Waring? But you won't be able to sit together. You have disarranged all +my plans, so I shall treat you as of no importance." + +"Miss Waring won't quarrel with either you or me on that account," +commented Nap, as he offered his arm to the rector's daughter with +ironical courtesy. "Come along, Miss Waring! Shut your eyes and bolt me. +It will soon be over." + +Dot was young enough to make a face at him, but the hard stare with which +he countered it reduced her almost instantly to confusion. Whereupon he +transferred his attention and looked at her no more. + +But compensation was in store for her, for at the dinner-table she found +herself placed between Bertie and the doctor, a pleasing situation in +which she speedily recovered her spirits, since the doctor talked to his +hostess, and Bertie's partner, Mrs. Shirley, strenuously occupied the +attention of her host, who was seated on her other side. + +Major Shirley fell as usual to Mrs. Randal, over which circumstance Anne, +catching a tragic glance from the latter, failed somewhat conspicuously +to repress a smile. + +"Yes, it's mighty funny, isn't it?" said Nap, and with a sharp start she +discovered that he was seated upon her right. + +"I--didn't see you," she faltered. + +"No?" he said coolly. "Well, it's all right. I was told to sit +here--obviously decreed by the gods. You'll think me uncanny if I tell +you that it was just this that I came for." + +"You are uncanny," she said. + +He made her a brief bow. It seemed to her that a mocking spirit gleamed +in his eyes. She had never felt less confident of him, less at her ease +with him, than at that moment. She felt as if in some subtle fashion, +wholly beyond her comprehension, he were playing some deep-laid game, as +if he were weaving some intricate web too secret and too intangible to be +understood or grappled with. Upon one point only was she quite clear. He +would suffer no reference to their last meeting. Whatever the effect of +that terrible punishment upon him, he did not choose that she should see +it. She had seen him in the utmost extremity of his humiliation, but she +should never see the scars that were left. + +This much of his attitude she could understand, and understanding could +pardon that part which baffled her. But she could not feel at her ease. + +"And so you are afraid," said Nap. "That's a new thing for you." + +She glanced round the table. In the general hubbub of talk they were as +isolated as though they were actually alone together. + +"No," she said. "Why should I be afraid? But--I feel as if I am talking +to--a stranger." + +"Perhaps you are," said Nap. + +He uttered a laugh she could not fathom, and then with a certain +recklessness: "Permit me to present to your majesty," he said, "the Knave +of Diamonds!" + +There was that in his tone that hurt her vaguely, little as she +understood it. She smiled with a hint of wistfulness. + +"Surely I have met him before!" she said. + +"Without knowing him," said Nap. + +"No," she maintained. "I have known him for a long while now. I believe +him to be my very good friend." + +"What?" he said. + +She glanced at him, half startled by the brief query; but instantly she +looked away again with a curious, tingling sense of shock. For it was to +her as though she had looked into the heart of a consuming fire. + +"Aren't you rather behind the times?" he drawled. "That was--as you +say--a long while ago." + +The shock passed, leaving her strangely giddy, as one on the edge of +inconceivable depth. She could say no word in answer. She was utterly and +hopelessly at a loss. + +With scarcely a pause Nap turned to Violet Shirley, who was seated on his +right, and plunged without preliminary into a gay flirtation to which all +the world was at liberty to listen if it could not approve. Ralph Waring, +thus deprived of his rightful partner, solaced himself with Mrs. Randal, +who was always easy to please; and the major on her other side relapsed +into bearish gloom. + +It was with unspeakable relief that Anne rose at length from that +dinner-table. She had a deep longing to escape altogether, to go back to +the quiet Manor, where at least all was peace. He had hurt her more +subtly than she could have deemed possible. Had his friendship really +meant so much to her? Or was it only her pride that suffered to think he +valued hers so lightly? It seemed that he was fickle then, fickle as +everyone declared him to be. And yet in her heart she did not for a +moment believe it. That single glimpse she had had, past the gibing devil +in his eyes, deep into the man himself, had told her something different. + +He hated her then, he hated her as the cause of his downfall. This seemed +the more likely. And yet--and yet--did she really believe this either? + +"Dear Lady Carfax, do play to us!" urged her hostess. "It will be such a +treat to hear you." + +She rose half-mechanically and went to the piano, struck a few chords and +began to play, still so deep in her maze of conjecture that she hardly +knew what she had chosen. + +Mrs. Randal came to sit near her. Mrs. Shirley edged close to Mrs. Damer +and began to whisper. The two girls went softly into the conservatory. + +Anne's fingers played on. Now and then Mrs. Randal spoke to her, thanked +her or begged her to continue. But presently she moved away and Anne did +not miss her. She was far too deeply engrossed in her own thoughts. + +"Lady Carfax!" + +She started, every nerve suddenly on the alert. + +"Don't stop playing!" he said, and as it were involuntarily she +continued to play. + +"I am coming to see you to-morrow," he went on. "What time would you like +me to call?" + +She was silent. But the blood had risen in a great wave to her face and +neck. She could feel it racing in every vein. + +"Won't you answer me?" he said. "Won't you fix a time?" + +There was that in his voice that made her long earnestly to see his face, +but she could not. With a great effort she answered: + +"I am generally at home in the afternoon." + +"Then will you be out to the rest of the world?" he said. + +She stilled the wild tumult of her heart with desperate resolution. "I +think you must take your chance of that." + +"I am not taking any chances," he said. "I will come at the fashionable +hour if you prefer it. But--" + +He left the sentence unfinished with a significance that was more +imperious than a definite command. + +Anne's fingers were trembling over the keys. Sudden uncertainty seized +her. She forgot what she was playing, forgot all in the overwhelming +desire to see his face. She muffled her confusion in a few soft chords +and turned round. + +He was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE KERNEL OF THE DIFFICULTY + + +"I want to know!" said Capper, with extreme deliberation. + +He was the best-known surgeon in the United States, and he looked like +nothing so much as a seedy Evangelical parson. Hair, face, beard, all +bore the same distinguishing qualities, were long and thin and yellow. +He sat coiled like a much-knotted piece of string, and he seemed to +possess the power of moving any joint in his body independently of the +rest. He cracked his fingers persistently when he talked after a fashion +that would have been intolerable in anyone but Capper. His hands were +always in some ungainly attitude, and yet they were wonderful hands, +strong and sensitive, the colour of ivory. His eyes were small and +green, sharp as the eyes of a lizard. They seemed to take in everything +and divulge nothing. + +"What do you want to know?" said Lucas. + +He was lying in bed with the spring sunshine full upon him. His eyes were +drawn a little. He had just undergone a lengthy examination at the hands +of the great doctor. + +"Many things," said Capper, somewhat snappishly. "Chief among them, why +your tomfool brother--you call him your brother, I suppose?--brought me +over here on a fool's errand." + +"He is my brother," said Lucas quietly. "And why a fool's errand? Is +there something about my case you don't like?" + +"There is nothing whatever," said Capper, with an exasperated tug at his +pointed beard. "I could make a sound man of you. It wouldn't be easy. +But I could do it--given one thing, which I shan't get. Is the sun +bothering you?" + +He suddenly left his chair, bent over and with infinite gentleness raised +his patient to an easier posture and drew forward the curtain. + +"I guess I won't talk to you now," he said. "I've given you as much as +you can stand and then some already. How's that? Is it comfort?" + +"Absolute," Lucas said with a smile. "Don't go, doctor. I am quite able +to talk. I suppose matters haven't altered very materially since you +saw me last?" + +"I don't see why you should suppose that," said Capper. "As a matter of +fact things have altered--altered considerably. Say, you don't have those +fainting attacks any more?" + +"No. I've learnt not to faint." There was a boyishly pathetic note about +the words though the lips that uttered them still smiled. + +Capper nodded comprehendingly. "But the pain is just as infernal, eh? +Only you've the grit to stand against it. Remember the last time I +overhauled you? You fainted twice. That's how I knew you would never face +it. But I've hurt you worse to-day, and I'm damned if I know how you +managed to come up smiling." + +"Then why do you surmise that you have been brought here on a fool's +errand?" Lucas asked. + +"I don't surmise," said Capper. "I never surmise. I know." He began to +crack his fingers impatiently, and presently fell to whistling below his +breath. "No," he said suddenly, "you've got the physical strength and +you've got the spunk to lick creation, but what you haven't got is zeal. +You're gallant enough, Heaven knows, but you are not keen. You are +passive, you are lethargic. And you ought to be in a fever!" + +His fingers dropped abruptly upon Lucas's wrist, and tightened upon it. +"That brother of yours that you're so fond of, now if it were he, I could +pull him out of the very jaws of hell. He'd catch and hold. But you--you +are too near the other place to care. Say, you don't care, do you, not a +single red cent? It's all one to you--under Providence--whether you live +or die. And if I operated on you to-morrow you'd die--not at once, but +sooner or later--from sheer lack of enthusiasm. That's my difficulty. +It's too long a business. You would never keep it up." + +Lucas did not immediately reply. He lay in the stillness habitual to +him, gazing with heavy eyes at the motes that danced in the sunshine. + +"I guess I'm too old, doctor," he said at last. "But you are wrong in one +sense. I do care. I don't want to die at present." + +"Private reasons?" demanded Capper keenly. + +"Not particularly. You see, I am the head of the family. I hold myself +responsible. My brothers want looking after, more or less." + +"Brothers!" sniffed Capper, with supreme contempt. "That +consideration wouldn't keep you out of heaven. It's only another +reason for holding back." + +"Exactly," Lucas said quietly. "I don't know what Nap will say to me. He +will call me a shirker. But on the whole, doctor, I think I must hold +back a little longer." + +"He'd better let me hear him!" growled Capper. "I wish to heaven you +were married. That's the kernel of the difficulty. You want a wife. +You'd be keen enough then. I shouldn't be afraid of your letting go when +I wasn't looking." + +"Ah!" Lucas said, faintly smiling. "But what of the wife?" + +"She'd be in her element," maintained Capper stoutly. "She'd be to you +what the mainspring is to a watch, and glory in it. Haven't you seen such +women? I have, scores of 'em, ready made for the purpose. No, you will +only go through my treatment with a woman to hold you up. It's a process +that needs the utmost vitality, the utmost courage, and--something great +to live for--a motive power behind to push you on. There's only one +motive power that I can think of strong enough to keep you moving. And +that is most unfortunately absent. Find the woman, I tell you, find the +woman! And--under Providence--I'll do the rest!" + +He dropped back in his chair, cracking his fingers fiercely, his keen +eyes narrowly observant of every shade of expression on his patient's +face. + +Lucas was still smiling, but his eyes had grown absent. He looked +unutterably tired. + +"Yes," he said slowly at length. "I am afraid you have asked the +impossible of me now. But, notwithstanding that, if I could see my way +to it, I would place myself in your hands without reservation--and take +my chance. There are times now and then--now and then--" his words +quickened a little, "when a man would almost give the very soul out of +his body to be at peace--to be at peace; times when it's downright agony +to watch a fly buzzing up and down the pane and know he hasn't even the +strength for that--when every muscle is in torture, and every movement +means hell--" He broke off; his lips usually so steady had begun to +twitch. "I'm a fool, Capper," he murmured apologetically. "Make +allowances for a sick man!" + +"Look here!" said Capper. "This is a big decision for you to make +off-hand. You can take three months anyway to think it over. You are +getting stronger, you know. By then you'll be stronger still. You won't +be well. Nothing but surgical measures can ever make you well. And you'll +go on suffering that infernal pain. But three months one way or another +won't make much difference. I am due in London in September for the +Schultz Medical Conference. I'll run over then and see if you've made up +your mind." + +"Will you, doctor? That's real kind of you." Lucas's eyes brightened. He +stretched out a hand which Capper grasped and laid gently down. "And if +you undertake the job--" + +"If you are fit to go through it," Capper broke in, "I'll do it right +away before I leave. You'll spend the winter on your back. And in the +spring I'll come again and finish the business. That second operation is +a more delicate affair than the first, but I don't consider it more +dangerous. By this time next year, or soon after, you'll be walking like +an ordinary human being. I'll have you as lissom as an Indian." + +He cracked his fingers one after the other in quick succession and rose. +A moment he stood looking down at the smooth face that had flushed +unwontedly at his words; then bending, he lightly tapped his patient's +chest. "Meanwhile, my friend," he said, "you keep a stiff upper lip, and +_cherchez la femme--cherchez la femme toujours_! You'll be a sound man +some day and she won't mind waiting if she's the right sort." + +"Ah!" Lucas said. "You will have to forego that condition, doctor. I am +no ladies' man. Shall I tell you what a woman said to me the other day?" + +"Well?" + +"That I was like a mother to her." Again without much mirth he smiled. +His lips were steady enough now. + +"I should like to meet that woman," said Capper. + +"Why?" + +The doctor's hand sought his beard. "P'r'aps she'd tell me I was like a +father. Who knows?" + +Lucas looked at him curiously. "Are you fond of women?" + +"I adore them," said Capper without enthusiasm. He never satisfied +curiosity. + +Lucas's eyes fell away baffled. "I'll take you to see her this afternoon +if you can spare the time," he said. + +"Oh, I can spend the afternoon philandering so long as I catch the night +train to Liverpool," Capper answered promptly. "Meanwhile you must get a +rest while I go and take a dose of air and sunshine in the yard." + +His straight, gaunt figure passed to the door, opened it, and disappeared +with a directness wholly at variance with his lack of repose when seated. + +As for Lucas, he lay quite still for a long while, steadily watching the +motes that danced and swam giddily in the sunshine. + +Nearly half an hour went by before he stirred at all. And then a heavy +sigh burst suddenly from him, shaking his whole body, sending a flicker +of pain across his drooping eyelids. + +"_Cherchez la femme_!" he said to himself. And again with a quivering +smile, "_Cherchez la femme_! God knows she isn't far to seek. But--my +dear--my dear!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE FIRST ORDEAL + + +All the birds in the Manor garden were singing on that afternoon in May. +The fruit trees were in bloom. The air was full of the indescribable +fragrance of bursting flowers. There was no single note of sadness in all +the splendid day. But the woman who paced slowly to and fro under the +opening lilacs because she could not rest knew nothing of its sweetness. + +The precious peace of the past few weeks had been snatched from her. She +was face to face once more with the problem that had confronted her for a +few horror-stricken minutes on that awful evening in March. Then she had +thrust it from her. Since she had resolutely turned her back upon it. But +to-day it was with her, and there was no escaping it. It glared at her +whichever way she turned, a monster of destruction waiting to devour. And +she was afraid, horribly, unspeakably afraid, with a fear that was +neither physical nor cowardly, yet which set her very soul a-trembling. + +Restlessly she wandered up and down, up and down. It was a day for +dreams, but she was terribly and tragically awake. + +When Nap Errol came to her at length with his quick, light tread that was +wary and noiseless as a cat's, she knew of his coming long before he +reached her, was vividly, painfully aware of him before she turned to +look. Yesterday she had longed to look him in the face, but to-day she +felt she dared not. + +Slim and active he moved across the grass, and there came to her ears a +slight jingle of spurs. He had ridden then. A sudden memory of the man's +free insolence in the saddle swept over her, his domination, his +imperial arrogance. Turning to meet him, she knew that she was quivering +from head to foot. + +He came straight up to her, halted before her. "Have you no welcome for +me?" he said. + +By sheer physical effort she compelled herself to face him, to meet the +fierce, challenging scrutiny which she knew awaited her. She held out her +hand to him. "I am always glad to see you, Nap," she said. + +He took her hand in a sinewy, compelling grip. "Although you prefer good +men," he said. + +The ground on which she stood seemed to be shaking, yet she forced +herself to smile, ignoring his words. + +"Let us go and sit down," she said. + +Close by was a seat under a great lilac tree in full purple bloom. She +moved to it and sat down, but Nap remained upon his feet, watching +her still. + +The air was laden with perfume--the wonderful indescribable essences of +spring. Away in the distance, faintly heard, arose the bleating of lambs. +Near at hand, throned among the purple flowers above their heads, a +thrush was pouring out the rapture that thrilled his tiny life. The whole +world pulsed to the one great melody--the universal, wordless song. Only +the man and the woman were silent as intruders in a sacred place. + +Anne moved at last. She looked up very steadily, and spoke. "It seems +like holy ground," she said. + +Her voice was hushed, yet it had in it a note of pleading. Her eyes +besought him. + +And in answer Nap leaned down with a sudden, tigerish movement and laid +his hand on hers. "What have I to do with holiness?" he said. "Anne, come +down from that high pedestal of yours! I'm tired of worshipping a +goddess. I want a woman--a woman! I shall worship you none the less +because I hold you in my arms." + +It was done. The spell was broken. Those quick, passionate words had +swept away her last hope of escape. She was forced to meet him face to +face, to meet him and to do battle. + +For a long second she sat quite still, almost as if stunned. Then sharply +she turned her face aside, as one turns from the unbearable heat and +radiance when the door of a blast-furnace is suddenly opened. + +"Oh, Nap," she said, and there was a sound of heart-break in her words, +"What a pity! What a pity!" + +"Why?" he demanded fiercely. "I have the right to speak--to claim my own. +Are you going to deny it--you who always speak the truth?" + +"You have no right," she answered, still with her face averted. "No man +has ever the faintest right to say to another man's wife what you have +just said to me." + +"And you think I will give you up," he said, "for that?" + +She did not at once reply. Only after a moment she freed her hands from +his hold, and the action seemed to give her strength. She spoke, her +voice very clear and resolute. "I am not going to say anything unkind to +you. You have already borne too much for my sake. But--you must know that +this is the end of everything. It is the dividing of the ways--where we +must say good-bye." + +"Is it?" he said. He looked down at her with his brief, thin-lipped +smile. "Then--if that's so--look at me--look at me, Anne, and tell me +that you don't love me!" + +She made an almost convulsive gesture of protest and sat silent. + +For a little he waited. Then, "That being so," he said very deliberately, +"there is no power on earth--I swear--I swear--that shall ultimately +come between us!" + +"Oh, hush!" she said. "Hush!" She turned towards him, her face white +and agitated. "I will not listen to you, Nap. I cannot listen to you! +You must go." + +She stretched a hand towards him appealingly, and he caught it, crushing +it against his breast. For a moment he seemed about to kneel, and then he +altered his purpose and drew her to her feet. Again she was aware of that +subtle, mysterious force within him, battling with her, seeking to +dominate, to conquer, to overwhelm her. Again there came to her that +sense of depth, depth unutterable, appalling. She seemed to totter on the +very edge of the pit of destruction. + +Very quietly at length his voice came to her. It held just a touch of +ridicule. "What! Still doing sacrifice to the great god Convention? My +dear girl, but you are preposterous! Do you seriously believe that I will +suffer that drunken maniac to come between us--now?" + +He flung his head back with the words. His fiery eyes seemed to scorch +her. And overhead the rapturous bird-voice pealed forth a perfect paean +of victory. + +But Anne stood rigid, unresponsive as an image of stone. "He is my +husband," she said. + +She felt his hand tighten upon hers, till the pressure was almost more +than she could endure. "You never felt a spark of love for him!" he said. +"You married him--curse him!--against your will!" + +"Nevertheless, I married him," she said. + +He showed his teeth for a moment, and was silent. Then imperiously he +swept up his forces for the charge. "These things are provided for in the +States," he said. "If you won't come to me without the sanction of the +law, I will wait while you get it. I will wait till you are free--till I +can make you my lawful wife. That's a fair offer anyway." He began to +smile. "See what a slave you have made of me!" he said. "I've never +offered any woman marriage before." + +But Anne broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Oh, don't you know me better +than that?" she said. "Nap, I am not the sort of woman to throw off the +yoke like that. It is true that I never loved him, and I do not think +that I shall ever live with him again. But still--I married him, and +while he lives I shall never be free--never, never!" + +"Yet you are mine," he said. + +"No--no!" + +She sought to free her hand, but he kept it. "Look at me!" he said. "Do +you remember that day in March--the day you saw me whipped like a dog?" + +Involuntarily she raised her eyes to his. "Oh, don't!" she whispered, +shuddering. "Don't!" + +But he persisted. "You felt that thrashing far more than I did, though it +made a murderer of me. You were furious for my sake. Did you never ask +yourself why?" Then in a lower voice, bending towards her, "Do you think +I didn't know the moment I saw your face above mine? Do you think I +didn't feel the love in your arms, holding me up? Do you think it isn't +in your eyes--even now?" + +"Oh, hush!" she said again piteously. "Nap, you are hurting me. I cannot +bear it. Even if it were so, love--true love--is a sacred thing--not to +be turned into sin." + +"Sin!" he said. "What is sin? Is it sin to fulfil the very purpose for +which you were created?" + +But at that she winced so sharply that he knew he had gone too far. +It was characteristic of the man that he made no attempt to recover +lost ground. + +"I'm a wicked pagan no doubt," he said, with a touch of recklessness. +"Everyone will tell you so. I fancy I've told you so myself more than +once. Yet you needn't shrink as if I were unclean. I have done nothing +that you would hate me for since I have known you." + +He paused and seemed to listen, then very quietly released her hand. A +curious expression flickered across his face as he did so, and a little +chill went through her. It was like the closing of the furnace door. + +"I am going," he said. "But I shall come back--I shall come back." His +smile, sudden and magnetic, gleamed for an instant and was gone. + +"Do you remember the missing heart?" he said "There are some things that +I never forget." + +And so, without farewell, he turned and left her, moving swiftly and +easily over the grass. She heard the jingle of his spurs, but no sound of +any footfall as he went. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FATAL STREAK + + +"My lady!" + +Anne looked up with a start. She had been sitting with closed eyes under +the lilac tree. + +Dimsdale, discreet and deferential as ever, stood before her. + +"Mr. Lucas Errol is here," he told her, "with another gentleman. I knew +your ladyship would wish to be at home to him." + +"Oh, certainly," she answered, rising. "I am always at home to Mr. Lucas +Errol. Please tell him I am coming immediately." + +But she did not instantly follow Dimsdale. She stood instead quite +motionless, with her face to the sky, breathing deeply. + +When she turned at length she had recovered all her customary serenity. +With the quiet dignity peculiar to her, she passed up the garden path, +leaving the thrush still singing, singing, singing, behind her. + +She found her visitors in the drawing-room, which she entered by the +open window. Lucas greeted her with his quiet smile and introduced +Capper--"a very great friend of mine, and incidentally the finest +doctor in the U.S.A." + +She shook hands with the great man, feeling the small green eyes running +over her, and conscious that she blushed under their scrutiny. She +wondered why, with a vague feeling of resentment. She also wondered what +had moved Lucas to bring him. + +As she sat at the tea-table and dispensed hospitality to her guests it +was Lucas who kept the conversation going. She thought he seemed in +wonderful spirits despite the heavy droop of his eyelids. + +Capper sat in almost unbroken silence, studying his hostess so +perpetually that Anne's nerves began to creak at last under the strain. + +Quite suddenly at length he set down his cup. "Lady Carfax," he said +abruptly, "I'm told you have a herb garden, and I'm just mad on herbs. +Will you take me to see it while Lucas enjoys a much-needed and +well-earned rest?" + +Anne glanced up in surprise. They were almost the first words he had +spoken. Capper was already upon his feet. He stood impatiently cracking +his fingers one by one. + +She rose. "Of course I will do so with pleasure if Mr. Errol +doesn't mind." + +"Certainly not, Lady Carfax," smiled Lucas. "I am extremely comfortable. +Pray give him what he wants. It is the only way to pacify him." + +Anne smiled and turned to the window. They went out together into the +golden spring evening. + +The herb garden was some distance from the house. Capper strode along in +silence, with bent brows. More than ever Anne wondered what had brought +him. She did not try to make conversation for him, realising by instinct +that such effort would be vain as well as unwelcome. She merely walked +quietly beside him, directing their steps whither he had desired to go. + +They were out of sight of the house before he spoke. "Say, madam, +I'm told you know the Errol family off by heart without needing to +look 'em up." + +She glanced at him in surprise. "Of course I know them. Yes, I know +them all." + +"Well?" he demanded. + +"Oh, quite well." Almost involuntarily she began to explain the intimacy. +"I was taken to their house after a hunting accident, and I was an +invalid there for several weeks." + +"That so?" Again piercingly the American's eyes scanned her. "You're real +friendly then? With which in particular?" + +She hesitated momentarily. Then, "I am very fond of Mrs. Errol," she +said, speaking very quietly. "But Nap was my first friend, and +afterwards Lucas--" + +"Oh, Nap!" + +There was such withering contempt in the exclamation that she had +perforce to remark it. + +"Nap is evidently no favourite with you," she said. + +He raised his brows till they nearly met his hair. "Nap, my dear lady," +he drily observed, "is doubtless all right in his own sphere. It isn't +mine, and it isn't yours. I came over to this country at his request and +in his company, and a queerer devil it has never been my lot to +encounter. But what can you expect? I've never yet seen him in a blanket +and moccasins, but I imagine that he'd be considerably preferable that +way. I guess he's just a fish out of water on this side of civilisation." + +"What can you mean?" Anne said. + +For the second time that afternoon she felt as if the ground beneath her +had begun to tremble. She looked up at him with troubled eyes. Surely the +whole world was rocking! + +"I mean what I say, madam," he told her curtly. "It's a habit of mine. +There is a powerful streak of red in Nap Errol's blood, or I am much +mistaken." + +"Ah!" Anne said, and that was all. In a flash she understood him. She +felt as if he had performed some ruthless operation upon her, and she was +too exhausted to say more. Unconsciously her hand pressed her heart. It +was beating strangely, spasmodically; sometimes it did not beat at all. +For she knew beyond all doubting that what he said was true. + +"I don't say the fellow is an out-and-out savage," Capper was saying. +"P'r'aps he'd be more tolerable if he were. But the fatal streak is +there. Never noticed it? I thought you women noticed everything. Oh, I +can tell you he's made things hum on our side more times than I've +troubled to count. Talk of the devil in New York and you very soon find +the conversation drifting round to Nap Errol. Now and then he has a lapse +into sheer savagery, and then there is no controlling him. It's just as +the fit takes him. He's never to be trusted. It's an ineradicable taint." + +She shivered at the words, but still she did not speak. + +Capper went unconcernedly on. "I fancy Lucas once thought he was going to +make a gentleman of him. A gentleman, ye gods! Teach a tiger to sit up +and beg! He has a most amazing patience, but I guess even he realises by +now that the beast is untamable. Mrs. Errol saw it long ago. There's a +fine woman for you--A.1., gilt-edged, quality of the best. You know Mrs. +Errol, you say?" + +"Yes, I know her." Anne heard the words, but was not conscious of +uttering them. + +Capper gave her a single straight look. "You wouldn't think, would you," +said he, "that that woman carries a broken heart about with her? But I +assure you that's so. Nap Errol was the tragedy of her life." + +That quickened her to interest. She was conscious of a gradual sinking +downwards of her dismay till it came to rest somewhere deep in her inmost +soul, leaving the surface free for other impressions. + +"He came out of nowhere," Capper went on. "She never tried to account for +him. He was her husband's son. She made him hers. But he's been a tiger's +cub all his life, a hurricane, a firebrand. He and Bertie are usually at +daggers drawn and Lucas spends his time keeping the peace; which is about +as wearing an occupation for a sick man as I can imagine. I want to put a +stop to it, Lady Carfax. I speak as one family friend to another. Lucas +seems to like you. I believe you could make him see reason if you took +the trouble. Women are proverbially ingenious." + +Anne's faint smile showed for a moment. They had entered the herb garden +and were passing slowly down the central path. It was a small enclosure +surrounded by clipped yew hedges and intersected by green walks. The +evening sunlight slanting down upon her, had turned her brown hair to +ruddiest gold. There was no agitation about her now. The grey eyes were +gravely thoughtful. + +She bent presently to pluck a sprig of rosemary. "Will you tell me," she +said, "what it is that you want to do?" + +Capper shot her a keen side-glance. "I want to cure him," he said. "I +want to make a whole man of him." + +"Could you?" she asked. + +"I could." Abruptly Capper stopped. His yellow face was curiously aglow. +"I say I could," he asserted almost fiercely, "if I could choose my +conditions. If I could banish that pestilent brother of his, if I could +rouse him to something like energy, if I could turn his will in one +direction only, I could do it. Given his whole-hearted co-operation, I +could do it. Without it, I am powerless. He would simply die of +inanition." + +"It would mean an operation then? A very serious one?" Anne had paused +upon the green path. Her eyes sought Capper's. + +He answered her with curt directness. "My dear lady, it would mean not +one, but two. I won't trouble you with technical details which you +wouldn't understand. Put briefly, it would mean in the first place a +pulling down and in the second a building up. Both operations would be a +serious tax upon his strength, but I am satisfied that he has the +strength for both. Six months would elapse between the two, and during +that time he would be flat on his back. If he could hold on for those six +months he would come through all right. Of that I am convinced. But those +six months are my stumbling-block. Freedom from all anxiety is essential. +He wants a stanch friend continually beside him to keep him cheery and at +peace. That fellow Nap is the principle obstacle. He stirs up hell and +tommy wherever he goes, and he's never absent for long. Lucas himself +admits that his brothers are a care to him. Oh, it's all an infernal +tangle. I sometimes think family ties are the very deuce." + +Capper tugged at his beard with restless fingers and ground his heel +into the turf. + +"If you consider Nap an obstacle--why don't you speak to him?" Anne asked +in her quiet voice. + +Capper shrugged his shoulders. "He hates me--and small wonder! I've told +him the brutal truth too often." + +Anne passed the matter by. "And Lucas does not wish to undergo the +operation?" + +"That's just the infernal part of it!" burst forth Capper. "He would +undergo it to-morrow if he didn't consider himself indispensable to these +young whelps. But that isn't all. Lady Carfax, he wants help. He wants +someone strong to stand by. I believe you could do it--if you would. You +are the sort of woman that men turn to in trouble. I've been watching +you. I know." + +Again very faintly Anne smiled, with more of patience than amusement. +"Dr. Capper, has Lucas been telling you about me?" + +Capper thrust out a hand. "Yes." + +"You know how I am situated?" she questioned. + +"I do." There was no sympathy in Capper's voice or face; only in the +grasp of his hand. + +"And you think I could be of use to him?" + +"I don't think," said Capper. "I know." He released her hand as abruptly +as he had taken it. His long fingers began to curve and crack +mechanically. "I'll tell you something," he said. "Don't know why I +should, but I will. I love Lucas Errol as if he were my son." + +"Ah!" Anne said gently. "I think we all love him in our different ways." + +"That so?" said the American keenly. "Then I shall leave the matter in +your charge, Lady Carfax. I can see you're a capable woman. I'm coming +back in September to perform that operation. You will have a willing +patient ready for me--by willing I mean something gayer than +resigned--and my bugbear, Nap--that most lurid specimen of civilised +devilry--hunting scalps on the other side of the Atlantic." + +"Oh, I don't know!" Anne said quickly. "I don't know!" + +She spoke breathlessly, as one suddenly plunged into a strong current. +Her face was bent over the sprig of rosemary which she was threading in +her dress. Her fingers were trembling. + +Capper watched her silently. + +"Let me!" he said at last. + +He took the sprig from her with a hand that was perfectly steady, held it +a moment, seemed to hesitate, finally withdrew it and planted it in his +own buttonhole. + +"I guess I'll keep it myself," he said, "with your permission, in memory +of a good woman." + +Anne commanded herself and looked up. "Keep it, by all means," she said. +"But do not expect too much from me. No woman is always good. The best +of us fail sometimes." + +"But you will do your best when the time comes?" he said, in a tone that +was a curious blend of demand and entreaty. + +She met his eyes quite fully. "Yes," she said, "I will do my best." + +"Then I'm not afraid," said Capper. "We shall pull him through between +us. It will be a miracle, of course, but"--a sudden smile flashed across +his face, transforming him completely--"miracles happen, Lady Carfax." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TOKEN + + +Slowly Anne drew aside the curtain and looked forth into the night, a +magic night, soft and wonderful, infinitely peaceful. A full moon shone +high in the sky with an immense arc of light around it, many-rayed, +faintly prismatic. There was the scent of coming rain in the air, but no +clouds were visible. The stars were dim and remote, almost quenched in +that flood of moonlight. + +Across the quiet garden came the song of a nightingale in one of the +shrubberies, now soft and far like the notes of a fairy flute, now close +at hand and filling the whole world with music. Anne stood, a silent +listener, on the edge of the magic circle. + +She had just risen from the piano, where for the past hour or more she +had been striving to forget the fever that burned within. Now at last she +had relinquished the piteous, vain attempt, and utterly wearied she stood +drinking in the spring sweetness. + +It was drawing towards midnight, and all but herself had retired. She +knew she ought to bolt the window and go to rest also; only she knew, +too, that no rest awaited her. The silver peace into which she gazed was +like balm to her tired spirit, but yet she could only stand, as it were, +upon the edge. + +A great longing was upon her, a voiceless, indescribable desire, that +made within her so deep a restlessness that no outside influence seemed +able to touch it. She leaned her head against the window-frame, conscious +of suffering but scarcely aware of thought. + +With no effort of hers the events of that afternoon passed before her. +She heard again the ardent voice of the friend who had become the lover. +He had loved her from the first, it seemed, and she had not known it. +Could it be that she had loved him also, all unknowing? + +There came again to her the memory of those fierce, compelling eyes, the +dogged mastery with which he had fought her resolution, the sudden magic +softening of the harsh face when he smiled. There came again the +passionate thrilling of his voice; again her hands tingled in that close +grip; again she thought she felt the beating of the savage heart. + +She raised her arms above her head with the gesture of one who wards off +something immense, but they fell almost immediately. She was so tired--so +tired. She had fought so hard and so long. Oh, why was there no peace for +her? What had she done to be thus tortured? Why had love come to her at +all? In all her barren life she had never asked for love. + +And now that it had come it was only to be ruthlessly dashed against the +stones. What had she to do with love--love, moreover, for a man who could +offer her but the fiery passion of a savage, a man from whom her every +instinct shrank, who mocked at holy things and overthrew all barriers of +convention with a cynicism that silenced all protest. What--ah, what +indeed!--had she to do with love? + +She had lived a pure life. She had put out the fires of youth long ago, +with no hesitating hand. She had dwelt in the desert, and made of it her +home. Was it her fault that those fires had been kindled afresh? Was she +to blame because the desert had suddenly blossomed? Could she be held +responsible for these things, she who had walked in blindness till the +transforming miracle had touched her also and opened her eyes? + +She shivered a little. Oh, for a helping hand! Oh, for a deliverer from +this maze of misery! + +She saw again the quiet garden lying sleeping before her in the +moonlight, and felt as if God must be very far away. She was very +terribly alone that night. + +The impulse came to her to pass out into the dewy stillness, and she +obeyed it, scarcely knowing what she did. Over the silver grass, +ghost-like, she moved. It was as if a voice had called her. On to the +lilac trees with their burden of fragrant blossoms, where the thrush +had raised his song of rapture, where she had faced that first fiery +ordeal of love. + +She reached the bench where she had sat that afternoon. There was not a +leaf that stirred. The nightingale's song sounded away in the distance. +The midnight peace lay like a shroud upon all things. But suddenly fear +stabbed her, piercing every nerve to quivering activity. She knew--how, +she could not have said--that she was no longer alone. + +She stood quite still, but the beating of her heart rose quick and +insistent in her ears, like the beat of a drum. Swift came the conviction +that it was no inner impulse that had brought her hither. She had obeyed +a voice that called. + +For many seconds she stood motionless, not breathing, not daring to turn +her head. Then, as her strength partially returned, she took two steps +forward to the seat under the lilac tree, and, her hand upon the back of +it, she spoke. + +"Nap!" + +He came, gliding like a shadow behind her. Slowly she turned and +faced him. + +He was still in riding-dress. She heard again the faint jingle of his +spurs. Yet the moonlight shone strangely down upon him, revealing in him +something foreign, something incongruous, that she marvelled that she had +never before noticed. The fierce, dusky face with its glittering eyes and +savage mouth was oddly unfamiliar to her, though she knew it all by +heart. In imagination she clothed him with the blanket and moccasins of +Capper's uncouth speech; and she was afraid. + +She did not know how to break the silence. The heart within her was +leaping like a wild thing in captivity. + +"Why are you here?" she said at last, and she knew that her voice shook. + +He answered her instantly, with a certain doggedness. "I want to know +what Capper has been saying to you." + +She started almost guiltily. Her nerves were on edge that night. + +"You may as well tell me," he said coolly. "Sooner or later I am +bound to know." + +With an effort she quieted her agitation. "Then it must be later," she +said. "I cannot stay to talk with you now." + +"Why not?" he said. + +Desperately she faced him, for her heart still quaked within her. The +shock of Capper's revelation was still upon her. He had come to her too +soon. "Nap," she said, "I ask you to leave me, and I mean it. Please go!" + +But he only drew nearer to her, and she saw that his face was stern. He +thrust it forward, and regarded her closely. + +"So," he said slowly, "he has told you all about me, has he?" + +She bent her head. It was useless to attempt to evade the matter now. + +"I am mightily obliged to him," said Nap. "I wanted you to know." + +Anne was silent. + +After a moment he went on. "I meant to have told you myself. I even began +to tell you once, but somehow you put me off. It was that night at +Baronmead--you remember?--the night you wanted to help me." + +Well she remembered that night--the man's scarcely veiled despair, his +bitter railing against the ironies of life. So this had been the meaning +of it all. A thrill of pity went through her. + +"Yes," he said. "I knew you'd be sorry for me. I guess pity is about the +cheapest commodity on the market. But--you'll hardly believe it--I don't +want your pity. After all, a man is himself, and it can't be of much +importance where he springs from--anyway, to the woman who loves him." + +He spoke recklessly, and yet she seemed to detect a vein of entreaty +in his words. She steeled her heart against it, but it affected her +none the less. + +"Nap," she said firmly, "there must be no more talk of love between us. I +told you this afternoon that I would not listen, and I will not. Do you +understand me? It must end here and now. I am in earnest." + +"You don't say!" said Nap. + +He was standing close to her, and again fear stabbed her--fear that was +almost abhorrence. There was something about him that was horribly +suggestive of a menacing animal. + +"I am in earnest," she said again. But she could not meet his eyes any +longer. She dared not let him read her soul just then. + +"I am in earnest too," said Nap. "But you needn't be afraid of me on that +account. I may be a savage, but I'm not despicable. If I take more than +you are prepared to offer it's only because I know it to be my own." He +bent towards her, trying to see her face. "My own, Anne!" he said again +very softly. "My own!" + +But at his movement she drew back sharply, with a gesture of such +instinctive, such involuntary recoil, that in an instant she knew that +she had betrayed that which she had sought to hide. + +He stiffened as if at a blow, and she saw his hands clench. In the +silence that followed she stood waiting for the storm to burst, waiting +for his savagery to tear asunder all restraining bonds and leap forth in +devilish fury. But--by what means she knew not--he held it back. + +"So," he said at last, his voice very low, "the Queen has no further use +for her jester!" + +Her heart smote her. What had she done? She felt as if she had cruelly +wounded a friend. But because he demanded of her more than friendship, +she dared not attempt to allay the hurt. She stood silent. + +"Can't you find another _role_ for me?" he said. "You will find it +difficult to exclude me altogether from the cast." + +Something in his tone pierced her, compelled her. She glanced up swiftly, +met his eyes, and was suddenly caught, as it were, in fiery chains, so +that she could not look away. And there before her the gates of hell +opened, and she saw a man's soul in torment. She saw the flames mount +higher and higher, scorching and shrivelling and destroying, till at last +she could bear the sight no longer. She covered her face with her hands +and blotted it out. + +"Oh, Nap," she moaned, "if you love me--if you love me--" + +"If I love you--" he said. + +He put his hand on her shoulder and she trembled from head to foot. + +"Prove your love!" she whispered, her face still hidden. + +He stood awhile motionless, still with his hand upon her. But at last it +fell away. + +"You doubt my love then?" he said, and his voice sounded strange to +her, almost cold. "You think my love is unworthy of you? You have--lost +faith in me?" + +She was silent. + +"Is it so?" he persisted. "Tell me the truth. I may as well know it. You +think--because I am not what Capper would, term a thoroughbred--that I +am incapable of love. Isn't that so?" + +But still she did not answer him. Only, being free, she turned to the +garden-seat and sank down upon it, her arms stretched along the back, +her head bowed low. + +He began to pace up and down like a caged animal, pausing each time he +passed her, and each time moving on again as if invisibly urged. At last +very suddenly he stopped with his back to her, and stood like a statue in +the moonlight. + +She did not look at him. She was too near the end of her strength. Her +heart was beating very slowly, like a run-down watch. She felt like an +old, old woman, utterly tired of life. And she was cold--cold from +head to foot. + +Minutes passed. Somewhere away in the night an owl hooted, and Nap +turned his head sharply, as one accustomed to take note of every sound. +A while longer he stood, seeming to listen, every limb alert and tense, +then swiftly he wheeled and gazed full at the drooping woman's figure on +the bench. + +Slowly his attitude changed. Something that was bestial went out of it; +something that was human took its place. Quietly at length he crossed +the moonlit space that intervened between them, reached her, knelt +beside her. + +"Anne," he said, and all her life she remembered the deep melancholy of +his voice, "I am a savage--a brute--a devil. But I swear that I have it +in me to love you--as you deserve to be loved. Won't you have patience +with me? Won't you give me a chance--the only chance I've ever had--of +getting above myself, of learning what love can be? Won't you trust me +with your friendship once more? Believe me, I'm not all brute." + +She thrilled like a dead thing waked to life. Her dread of the man passed +away like an evil dream, such was the magic he had for her. She slipped +one of her cold hands down to him. + +He caught it, bowed his head upon it, pressed it against his eyes, then +lifted his face and looked up at her. + +"It is not the end then? You haven't given me up in disgust?" + +And she answered him in the only way possible to her. "I will be +your friend still, only--only let there never again be any talk of +love between us. That alone will end our friendship. Can I trust +you? Nap, can I?" + +He jerked back his head at the question, and showed her his face in the +full moonlight. And she saw that his eyes were still and passionless, +unfathomable as a mountain pool. + +"If you can bring yourself--if you will stoop--to kiss me," he said, "I +think you will know." + +She started at the words, but she knew instantly that she had nought to +fear. His voice was as steady as his eyes. He asked this thing of her as +a sign of her forgiveness, of her friendship, of her trust; and every +generous impulse urged her to grant it. She knew that if she refused he +would get up and go away, cut to the heart. She seemed to feel him +pleading with her, earnestly beseeching her, reasoning against prejudice, +against the shackles of conventionality, against reason itself. And +through it all her love for the man throbbed at the very heart of her, +overriding all doubt. + +She leaned towards him; she laid her hands upon his shoulders. + +"In token of my trust!" she said, and bent to kiss his forehead. + +But he gave her his lips instead--the thin, cynical lips that were wont +to smile so bitterly. There was no bitterness about them now. They were +only grave to sternness. And so, after a moment, she kissed him as he +wished, and he kissed her in return. + +Afterwards, he rose in unbroken silence, and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BURIAL OF A HATCHET + + +During the weeks that followed, something of her former tranquillity came +back to Anne. It was evident that Nap was determined to show himself +worthy of her trust, for never by word or look did he make the slightest +reference to what had passed between them. He came and went after his +customary sudden fashion. He never informed any one of his movements, nor +did even Lucas know when he might be expected at Baronmead. But his +absences were never of long duration, and Anne met him fairly frequently. + +She herself was more at leisure now than she had been for years, for +Lucas had found an agent for her and the sole care of her husband's +estate no longer lay upon her. She spent much of her time with Mrs. +Errol. Her happiest hours were those she spent with Lucas and his mother +in the great music-room at Baronmead. It was here also that she learned +to know of that hidden, vital quantity, elusive as flame, that was Nap +Errol's soul. For here he would often join them, and the music he drew +from his violin, weirdly passionate, with a pathos no words could ever +utter, was to Anne the very expression of the man's complex being. There +were times when she could hardly hear that wild music of his without +tears. It was like the crying of something that was lost. + +Often, after having accompanied him for a long time, she would take her +hands from the piano and sit silent with a strange and bitter sense of +impotence, as if he were leading whither she could not follow. And Nap +would play on and on in the quiet room, as though he played for her +alone, with the sure hand of a master upon the quivering strings of her +woman's heart. + +But he never spoke to her of love. His eyes conveyed no message at any +time. His straight gaze was impenetrable. He never even touched her hand +unless she offered it to him. And gradually her confidence in him grew +stronger. The instinct that bade her beware of him ceased to disquiet +her. She found herself able to meet him without misgiving, believing that +he had conquered himself for her sake, believing that he bowed to the +inevitable and was willing to content himself with her friendship. + +Undoubtedly a change had passed over him. Lucas was aware of it also, +felt it in his very touch, marked it a hundred times in the gentleness of +his speech and action. He attributed it to the influence of a good woman. +It seemed that Nap had found his soul at last. + +Bertie alone marked it with uneasiness, but Bertie was no impartial +critic. He had distrusted Nap, not without reason, from his boyhood. But +matters of a more personal nature were occupying his attention at that +time, and he did not bestow much of it upon home affairs. For some reason +he had begun to study in earnest, and was reading diligently for the +English Bar. + +Perhaps Mrs. Errol could have pierced the veil of civilisation in which +Nap had wrapped himself had she desired to do so, but she was the last +person in the world to attempt such an invasion. There never had been the +faintest streak of sympathy between them. Neither was there any tangible +antagonism, for each by mutual consent avoided all debatable ground. But +there existed very curiously a certain understanding each of the other +which induced respect if it did not inspire confidence. Without +deliberately avoiding each other they yet never deliberately came in +contact, and, though perfectly friendly in their relations, neither ever +offered to cross the subtle dividing line that stretched between them. +They were content to be acquaintances merely. + +Anne often marvelled in private at Mrs. Errol's attitude towards her +adopted son, but the subject was never mentioned between them. Often she +would recall Capper's words and wonder if they had expressed the literal +truth. She wondered, too, what Capper would say to his ally when he +returned at the end of the summer and found the charge he had laid upon +her unfulfilled. But, after all, Capper was scarcely more than a +stranger, and it seemed to her, upon mature reflection, that he had been +inclined to exaggerate the whole matter. She did not believe that Lucas's +welfare depended upon Nap's absence. Indeed, there were times when it +actually seemed to her that he relied upon Nap for support that none +other could give. Moreover, he was growing daily stronger, and this of +itself seemed proof sufficient that Nap was at least no hindrance to his +progress. She knew also that Nap was using his utmost influence to +persuade him to undergo the operation when Capper should return in +September; but she had no opportunity for furthering his efforts, for +Lucas never referred to the matter in her hearing. If he had yet made his +decision he imparted it to none. He seemed to her to be like a soldier +awaiting orders to move, with that steadfast patience which had become +his second nature. She knew that he would never act upon impulse, and she +admired him for it. + +Dot, who heard all from Bertie, wondered how he could ever hesitate. But +Dot was young and possessed of an abundant energy which knew no flagging. +Her vigorous young life was full of schemes, and she knew not what it was +to stand and wait. She was keenly engaged just then in company with Mrs. +Damer, Mrs. Randal, and a few more, in organising an entertainment in +support of the Town Hall and Reading Club, to which Lucas Errol had +promised his liberal support. It was no secret that he had offered to +supply the whole of the necessary funds, but, as Dot remarked, it was not +to be a charity and Baronford was not so poor-spirited as to be entirely +dependent upon American generosity. So Lucas was invited to give his +substantial help after Baronford had helped itself, which Dot was fully +determined it should do to the utmost of its capacity. + +Many schemes were in consequence discussed and rejected before the Town +Hall Committee finally decided in favour of amateur theatricals. + +Here again Lucas Errol's assistance was cordially invited, since no place +suitable for such an entertainment existed in Baronford. It was naively +intimated to him by Dot that he might provide the theatre and the +scenery, so that the profits might be quite unencumbered. + +Lucas forthwith purchased an enormous marquee (the cost of which far +exceeded any possible profits from the projected entertainment), which +he had erected upon his own ground under Dot's superintendence, and +thenceforth preparations went gaily forward; not, however, without +many a hitch, which Lucas generally managed directly or indirectly to +smooth away. + +It was Lucas who pressed Nap into the service as stage-manager, a post +which had been unanimously urged upon himself, but for which he declared +himself to be morally and physically unfit. It was Lucas who persuaded +Anne to accept a minor _role_ though fully aware that she would have +infinitely preferred that of onlooker. He had taken her under his +protection on that night in March, and he had never relinquished the +responsibility then assumed. With a smile, as was his wont with all, he +asserted his authority, and with a smile, in common with all who knew +him, she yielded even against her own strong inclination. + +Nap laughed when he heard of it, despite the fact that he had himself +yielded to the same power. + +"You seem to find Luke irresistible," he said. + +"I do," she admitted simply. "He is somehow too magnificent to refuse. +Surely you have felt the same?" + +"I?" said Nap. "Oh, I always do what I am told. He rules me with a +rod of iron." + +Glancing at him, she had a momentary glimpse of a curious, wistful +expression on his face that made her vaguely sorry. + +Instinctively she went on speaking as if she had not seen it. "I think +with Bertie that he is a born king among men. He is better than good. He +is great. One feels it even in trifles. He has such an immense patience." + +"Colossal," said Nap, and smiled a twisted smile. "That is why he is +everybody's own and particular pal. He takes the trouble to find out +what's inside. One wonders what on earth he finds to interest him. +There's so mighty little in human nature that's worthy of study." + +"I don't agree with you," Anne said in her quiet, direct way. + +He laughed again and turned the subject. He was always quick to divine +her wishes, and to defer to them. Their intercourse never led them +through difficult places, a fact which Anne was conscious that she owed +to his consideration rather than to her own skill. + +She was glad for more than one reason that Lucas had not pressed a very +onerous part upon her. She had a suspicion, very soon confirmed, that Nap +as stage-manager would prove no indulgent task-master. He certainly would +not spare himself, nor would he spare anyone else. + +Disputes were rife when he first assumed command, and she wondered much +if he would succeed in establishing order, for he possessed none of his +brother's winning charm of manner and but a very limited popularity. But +Nap showed himself from the outset fully equal to his undertaking. He +grappled with one difficulty after another with a lightning alertness, a +prompt decision, which soon earned for him the respect of his unruly +subordinates. He never quarrelled, neither did he consider the feelings +of any. A cynical comment was the utmost he ever permitted himself in +the way of retaliation, but he held his own unerringly, evolving order +from confusion with a masterly disregard of opposition that carried all +before it. + +Dot, who was not without a very decided prejudice in favour of her own +way, literally gasped in astonishment at his methods. She would have +liked to defy him openly a dozen times in a day, but Nap simply would +not be defied. He looked over her head with disconcerting arrogance, and +Dot found herself defeated and impotent. Dot had been selected for an +important part, and it was not very long before she came bitterly to +regret the fact. He did not bully her, but he gave her no peace. Over and +over again he sent her back to the same place; and over and over again he +found some fresh fault, till there came at length a day when Dot, weary +and exasperated, subsided suddenly in the midst of rehearsal into +indignant tears. + +Nap merely raised his eyebrows and turned his attention elsewhere, while +Anne drew the sobbing girl away, and tried to soothe her back to +composure in privacy. + +But it was some time before Dot would be comforted. Her grievance against +Nap was very deeply rooted, and it needed but this additional provocation +to break its bounds. It was not long before, clinging very tightly to +Anne, the whole story came out; how she and Bertie loved each other +"better than best," how no one was to know of it and they scarcely dared +to exchange a glance in public in consequence, how there could never, +never be any engagement, all because that horrid, horrid Nap had dared to +hint that she was pursuing Bertie for his money. + +"I hate him!" sobbed Dot. "I do hate him! He's cruel and malicious and +vindictive. I know he means to prevent our ever being happy together. +And--and I know Bertie's afraid of him--and so am I!" + +To all of which Anne listened with grave sympathy and such words of +comfort as seemed most likely to induce in Dot a calmer and more +reasonable state of mind. + +But Dot was not to be reassured quickly. It was very seldom that her +equanimity was disturbed, only in fact when her deepest feelings were +concerned, and this made her breakdown the more complete. She +apologised tearfully for her foolishness at rehearsal, which she set +down to bodily fatigue. She had been to see poor Squinny that morning, +and she thought he really was dying at last. He had cried so, and she +hadn't known how to comfort him, and then when she had got home there +had been no time for luncheon, so she had just changed and come away +without it. And oh,--this with her arms tightly about Anne's neck--she +did wish she had a mother to help her. Poor Dad was very sweet, but he +didn't understand a bit. + +Anne sat with her for the greater part of an hour, comforting her with a +grave tenderness that Dot found infinitely soothing. It might have been +half a lifetime instead of a brief seven years that stretched between +them. For Anne had been a woman long before her time, and Dot for all her +self-reliance was still but a child. + +She grew calm at last, and presently reverted to the theatricals. Did +Lady Carfax think she might withdraw? Nap made her so nervous. She was +sure she could never be successful under his management. + +Anne strongly advised her not to think of such a thing. In consideration +of the fact that Dot had been the moving spirit of the whole scheme such +a proceeding would be little short of disastrous. No doubt a substitute +could be found, but it would mean an open breach with Nap. Bertie would +quarrel with him in consequence, and Lucas would be grievously +disappointed. + +"We mustn't hurt Lucas," Anne urged. "He has so much to bear already. +And--and he has been so much happier about Nap lately." + +"Does Nap worry him too, then?" asked Dot, quickly. "Isn't he hateful? +He upsets everybody." + +"No--no!" Anne said. "Nap would do anything for Lucas. It is his one +solid virtue." + +It was at this point that the door opened with a noiseless swing, and +Nap himself entered. He advanced with the assured air of one whose +welcome is secure. + +"Give the devil his due, Lady Carfax!" he drawled. "He has one +other anyway." + +Even Anne was for the moment disconcerted by the abruptness of his +entrance. Dot sprang to her feet with burning cheeks. It was her evident +intention to escape, but he intercepted her. + +"My business is with you," he said, "not with Lady Carfax. Do you mind +waiting a minute?" + +Dot waited, striving for dignity. Nap was looking at her narrowly. + +In the pause that ensued, Anne rose and passed her arm reassuringly +through Dot's. + +Nap glanced at her. "That's rather shabby of you," he declared. "I was +just going to ask for your support myself." + +She smiled at him faintly. "I think you can manage without it. Dot will +not refuse her forgiveness if you ask for it properly." + +"Won't she?" said Nap, still keenly watching the girl's half-averted +face. "I should if I were Dot. You see our feud is of very long standing. +We always cut each other when we meet in the street--very pointedly so +that no one could possibly imagine for a moment that we were strangers. +We don't like doing it in the least, but we are both so infernally proud +that there is no alternative. And so we have got to keep it up all our +days, long after the primary reason for it all has sunk into oblivion. By +the way, I have forgotten already what the primary reason was." + +"I--haven't," said Dot, in a very low voice. Her lower lip was quivering. +She bit it desperately. + +"No?" said Nap. + +"No!" Dot turned her flushed face suddenly upon him. "You never meant me +to forget," she said, in a voice that shook beyond control. + +"It must have been something very venomous," he said. + +"It was!" she answered, fighting with, herself. "You--you know it was!" + +"It's not worth crying about anyway," said Nap. "My sting may be +poisonous, but it has never yet proved fatal. Tell me where the mischief +is, and p'r'aps I can remove it." + +He was smiling as he made the suggestion, smiling without malice, and, +though Dot could not bring herself to smile in return, she was none the +less mollified. + +"What was it?" he persisted, pressing his advantage. "Something beastly +I said or looked or did? I often do, you know. It's just my way. Do you +know what it was, Lady Carfax?" + +She nodded. "And I think you do too," she said. + +"I don't," he asserted, "on my honour." + +Dot looked incredulous. "Don't you remember that day in February," she +said, "the first day I ever came here--the day you accused me of--of +running after Bertie for--his money?" + +"Great Christopher!" said Nap. "You don't say you took me seriously?" + +"Of course I did," she said, on the verge of tears. "You--you were +serious too." + +"Ye gods!" said Nap. "And I've been wondering why on earth you and Bertie +couldn't make up your minds! So I've been the obstacle, have I? And +that's why you have been hating me so badly all this time--as if I were +the arch-fiend himself! By Jove!" He swung round on his heel. "We'll put +this right at once. Where's Bertie?" + +"Oh, no!" Dot said nervously. "No! Don't call him! He'll see I've been +crying. Nap--please!" + +She disengaged herself from Anne, and sprang after him, seizing him +impetuously by the arm. + +"I mean--Mr. Errol!" she substituted in confusion. + +He clapped his hand upon hers and wheeled. "You can call me anything +under the sun that occurs to you as suitable," he said. "You may kick me +also if you like--which is a privilege I don't accord to everybody. You +won't believe me, I daresay. Few people do. But I'm sorry I was a beast +to you that day. I don't deal in excuses, but when I tell you that I was +rather badly up against something, p'r'aps you'll be magnanimous enough +to forgive me. Will you?" + +He looked her straight in the face with the words. There was little of +humility about him notwithstanding them, but there was something of +melancholy that touched her warm heart. + +"Of course I will!" she said impulsively. "Let's be friends, shall we?" + +He gripped her hand till she felt the bones crack. "Suppose we go and get +some tea," he said. "Are you coming, Lady Carfax?" + +"I'm not fit to be seen," objected Dot, hanging back. + +He drew her on, her hand still fast in his. "Don't be shy, my dear +girl! You look all right. Will you lead the way, Lady Carfax? In the +hall, you know." + +Very reluctantly Dot submitted. She had not the faintest inkling of his +intentions or her docility would have vanished on the instant. As it was, +fortified by Anne's presence, she yielded to his insistence. + +The hall was full of people to whom Mrs. Errol was dispensing tea, +assisted by Bertie, who had emerged from his den for the purpose. +Bertie's studies did not permit him to take any part in the theatricals. +Possibly Nap's position at the head of affairs had assisted his +resolution in this respect. + +He was sitting on the arm of Lucas's chair, hastily gulping some tea in +an interval snatched from his ministrations, when Anne entered, closely +followed by Dot and his brother. Some instinct moved him to turn and +look, for in the general buzz of talk and laughter around him he could +have heard nothing of their approach. He looked, then stared, finally +stood up and set down his cup abruptly. + +As Nap came towards him, still holding Dot by the hand, he turned white +to the lips and moved forward. + +A sudden silence fell as they met. They were the centre of the crowd, the +centre of observation, the centre of an unseen whirlpool of emotions that +threatened to be overwhelming. + +And then with a smile Nap put an end to a tension of expectancy that had +become painful. + +"Hullo, Bertie!" he said, and smote him on the shoulder with a +vigorous hand. "I've just been hearing about your engagement, my dear +fellow. Congratulations! May you and Dot have the best of everything +all your lives!" + +Poor Dot would have fled had that been possible, but she was hedged in +too closely for that. Moreover, Nap had transferred her hand to Bertie's, +and the boy's warm grasp renewed her fainting courage. She knew he was as +amazed as she was herself at Nap's sudden move, and she determined that +she would stand by him at whatever cost. + +And after all, the difficult moment passed very quickly. People crowded +round them with kindly words, shook hands with them, chaffed them both, +and seemed to be genuinely pleased with the turn of events. Mrs. Errol +came forward in her hearty way and kissed them; and in the end Dot found +herself in Bertie's vacated place on the arm of Lucas's chair, with his +steady hand holding hers, and his quiet, sincere voice telling her that +he was "real glad that the thing was fixed up at last." + +Later Bertie took her home in the motor, and explained the situation to +the rector, who was mildly bewildered but raised no definite objection to +the announcement of the engagement. He was something of a philosopher, +and Bertie had always been a favourite of his. Nap in fact was the only +member of the Errol family for whom he did not entertain the most +sincere esteem; but, as Dot remarked that night, Nap was a puzzle to +everybody. It seemed highly probable after all that he carried a kind +heart behind his cynical exterior. She was sure that Lady Carfax thought +so, since she invariably treated him as an intimate friend. + +The rector admitted that she might be right, but after Dot had gone to +bed he leaned his elbow on his writing-table and sat long in thought. + +"I wonder," he murmured to himself presently, "I wonder if Lady Carfax +knows what she is doing. She really is too young, poor girl, to be so +much alone." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A QUESTION OF TRUST + + +The theatricals were arranged to take place on an evening in the +beginning of July, and for that one night Mrs. Errol persuaded Anne to +sleep at Baronmead. She would not consent to leave the Manor for longer, +for she still superintended much of the management of the estate and +overlooked the agent's work. She had begun to wonder if all her days +would be spent thus, for the reports which reached her regularly of her +husband's state of health were seldom of a hopeful nature. In fact they +varied very little, and a brain specialist had given it as his opinion +that, though it was impossible to speak with certainty, Sir Giles might +remain in his present condition of insanity for years, even possibly for +as long as he lived. He was the last of his family, and the title would +die with him. And Anne wondered--often she wondered--if it were to be her +lot to live out the rest of her life alone. + +She did not mind solitude, nor was she altogether unhappy, but she was +too young not to feel now and then the deep stirrings of her youth. And +she had lived so little in all her twenty-five years of life. Yet with +that habit of self-control which had grown up with her, and which made +many think her cold, she would not suffer her thoughts to dwell upon past +or future. Her world was very small, and, as she had once told Nap, she +contented herself with "the work that was nearest". If it did not greatly +warm her heart, it kept her from brooding over trouble. + +On the morning of the day fixed for the theatricals he came over in the +motor to fetch her. It was a glorious day of summer, and Anne was in the +garden. He joined her there, and they walked for awhile in the green +solitudes, talking of the coming entertainment. + +They came in their wanderings to the seat under the lilac trees. She +wondered afterwards if he had purposely directed their steps thither. +They had not been together there since that night when the lilac had been +in bloom, that night of perfect spring, the night when their compact had +been made and sealed. Did he think of it, she wondered as they passed. If +so, he made no sign, but talked on in casual strain as if she were no +more than the most casual of friends. Very faithfully he had kept his +part of the compact, so faithfully that when they were past she was +conscious of a sense of chill mingling with her relief. He had stifled +his passion for her, it seemed, and perhaps it was only by comparison +that his friendship felt so cold and measured. + +She was glad when they reached Baronmead at length. It was like going +into sudden sunshine to enter Lucas's presence and feel the warmth of his +welcome about her heart. She stayed long talking with him. Here was a +friend indeed, a friend to trust, a friend to confide in, a friend to +love. He might be "everybody's own and particular pal," as Nap had said, +but she knew intuitively that this friend of hers kept a corner for her +that was exclusively her own, a safe refuge in which she had found +shelter for the first time on that night that seemed so long ago when he +had held her in his arms and comforted her as though he had been a woman, +and which she knew had been open to her ever since. + +There was a final rehearsal in the afternoon which went remarkably +smoothly. Anne's part was not a lengthy one, and as soon as it was over +she went back to the house in search of Mrs. Errol. She had left +directions for her letters to be sent after her, and she found two or +three awaiting her in the hall. She picked them up, and passed into the +music-room. + +Here she found Lucas reading some correspondence of his own. + +He looked up with a smile. "Oh, Lady Carfax! I was just thinking of you. +I have a letter here from my friend Capper. You remember Dr. Capper?" + +"Very well indeed," she said, stifling a sudden pang at the name. + +He lay motionless in his chair, studying her with those shrewd blue eyes +that she never desired to avoid. "I believe Capper took you more or less +into his confidence," he said. "It's a risky thing for a doctor to do, +but he is a student of human nature as well as human anatomy. He +generally knows what he is about. Won't you sit down?" + +She took the seat near him that he indicated. Somehow the mention of +Capper had made her cold. She was conscious of a shrinking that was +almost physical from the thought of ever seeing him again. + +"Capper wants to have the shaping of my destiny," Lucas went on +meditatively. "In other words, he wants to pull me to pieces and make a +new man of me. Sometimes I am strongly tempted to let him try. At other +times," he was looking at her fully, "I hesitate." + +She put her shrinking from her and faced him. "Will you tell me why?" + +"Because," he said slowly, "I have a fear that I might be absent +when wanted." + +"But you are always wanted," she said quickly. + +He smiled. "Thank you, Lady Carfax. But that was not my meaning. I think +you understand me. I think Capper must have told you. I am speaking with +regard to--my brother Nap." + +He spoke the last words very deliberately. He was still looking at her +kindly but very intently. She felt the blood rush to her heart. For the +first time her eyes fell before his. + +He went on speaking at once, as if to reassure her, to give her time. +"You've been a stanch friend to him, I know, and you've done a big thing +for him. You've tamed him, shaped him, made a man of him. I felt your +influence upon him before I ever met you. I sensed your courage, your +steadfastness, your goodness. But you are only a woman, eh, Lady Carfax? +And Rome wasn't built in a day. There may come a time when the savage +gets the upper hand of him again. And then, if I were not by to hold him +in, he might gallop to his own or someone else's destruction. That is +what I have to think of before I decide." + +"But--can you always hold him?" Anne said. + +"Always, Lady Carfax." Very quietly, with absolute confidence, came the +reply. "You may put your last dollar on that, and you won't lose it. We +settled that many years ago, once and for all. But I've been asking +myself lately if I need be so anxious, if possibly Rome may be nearer +completion than I imagine. Is it so? Is it so? I sometimes think you know +him better than I do myself." + +"I!" Anne said. + +"You, Lady Carfax." + +With an effort she looked up. His eyes were no longer closely studying +her. He seemed to be looking beyond. + +"If you can trust him," he said quietly, "I know that I can. The question +is--Can you?" + +He waited very quietly for her answer, still not looking at her. But it +was long in coming. + +At last. "I do not feel that I know him as I once did," she said, her +voice very low, "nor is my influence over him what it was. But I think, +if you trust him, he will not disappoint you." + +The kindly eyes rested upon her again for a moment, but he made no +comment upon the form in which she had couched her reply. + +He merely, after the briefest pause, smiled and thanked her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A SUDDEN BLOW + + +Anne found herself the first to enter the drawing room that night before +dinner. It was still early, barely half-past seven. The theatricals were +to begin at nine. + +She had her unopened letters with her, and she sat down to peruse them by +an open window. The evening sun poured full upon her in fiery splendour. +She leaned her head against the woodwork, a little wearied. + +She opened the first letter mechanically. Her thoughts were wandering. +Without much interest she withdrew it from the envelope, saw it to be +unimportant, and returned it after the briefest inspection. The next was +of the same order, and received a similar treatment. The third and last +she held for several seconds in her hand, and finally opened with obvious +reluctance. It was from a doctor in the asylum in which her husband had +been placed. Slowly her eyes travelled along the page. + +When she turned it at length her hands were shaking, shaking so much +that the paper rattled and quivered like a living thing. The writing +ended on the further page, but before her eyes reached the signature the +letter had fallen from her grasp. Anne, the calm, the self-contained, the +stately, sat huddled in her chair--a trembling, stricken woman, with her +hands pressed tightly over her eyes, as if to shut out some dread vision. + +In the silence that followed someone entered the room with a light, +cat-like tread, and approached the window against which she sat. But so +overwhelmed was she for the moment that she was unaware of any presence +till Nap's voice spoke to her, and she started to find him close to her, +within reach of her hand. + +She lifted her white face then, while mechanically she groped for the +letter. It had fallen to the ground. He picked it up. + +"What is it?" he said, and she thought his voice sounded harsh. "You have +had bad news?" + +She held out her hand for the letter. "No, it is good. I--am a little +tired, that's all." + +"That is not all," he said, and she heard the dogged note in his +voice that she had come to know as the signal of indomitable +resolution. He sat down on the window seat close to her, still +keeping the letter in his hand. + +She made a little hopeless gesture and sat silent, striving for +composure. She knew that during the seconds that followed, his eyes never +stirred from her face. It was his old trick of making her feel the +compulsion of his will. Often before she had resisted it. To-night she +was taken at a disadvantage. He had caught her unarmed. She was +powerless. + +She turned her head at last and spoke. "You may read that letter," she +said. + +The thin lips smiled contemptuously for an instant. "I have read it +already," he said. + +She started slightly, meeting his eyes. "You have read it?" + +"In your face," he told her coolly. "It contains news of the man you call +your husband. It is to say he is better--and--coming--home." + +He spoke the last words as though he were actually reading them one by +one in her tragic eyes. + +"It is an experiment," she whispered. "He wishes it himself, it seems, +and they think the change might prove beneficial. He is decidedly +better--marvellously so. And he has expressed the desire to see me. Of +course"--she faltered a little--"I should not be--alone with him. There +would be an attendant. But--but you mustn't think I am afraid. It wasn't +that. Only--only--I did not expect it. It has come rather suddenly. I am +not so easily upset as a rule." + +She spoke hurriedly, almost as though she were pleading with him to +understand and to pardon her weakness. + +But her words quivered into silence. Nap said nothing whatever. He +sat motionless, the letter still in his hand, his eyes unswervingly +fixed upon her, + +That sphinx-like stare became unbearable at last. She gathered her +strength and rose. + +"You came upon me at an unlucky moment," she said. "Please forget it." + +He still stared at her stonily without moving or speaking. Something that +was almost fear gripped her. The very stillness of the man was in a +fashion intimidating. + +She stood before him, erect, and at least outwardly calm. "May I have my +letter?" she said. + +The words were a distinct command, and after a very decided pause he +responded to it. He rose with a quick, lithe movement, and handed her the +letter with a brief bow. + +An instant later, while she still waited for him to speak, he turned on +his heel and left her. + +Very soon after, Mrs. Errol came in, and then one after another those who +were staying in the house for the entertainment. But Anne had commanded +herself by that time. No one noticed anything unusual in her demeanour. + +Nap was absent from the dinner--table. Someone said that he was +superintending some slight alteration on the stage. It was so ordinary an +occurrence for him to fail to appear at a meal that no one was surprised. +Only Anne covered a deep uneasiness beneath her resolute serenity of +manner. She could not forget that basilisk stare. It haunted her almost +to the exclusion of everything else. She had no thought to spare for the +letter regarding her husband. She could only think of Nap. What had that +stare concealed? She felt that if she could have got past those baffling, +challenging eyes she would have seen something terrible. + +Yet when she met him again she wondered if after all she had disquieted +herself for nought. He was standing at the stage-entrance to the +marquee, discussing some matter with one of the curtain-pullers when she +arrived. He stood aside for her to pass, and she went by quickly, +avoiding his eyes. + +She kept out of his way studiously till her turn came, then perforce she +had to meet him again, for he was stationed close to the opening on to +the stage through which she had to pass. For the moment there was no one +else at hand, and she felt her heart beat thick and fast as she waited +beside him for her cue. + +He did not speak to her, did not, she fancied, even look at her; but +after a few dumb seconds his hand came out to hers and held it in a +close, sinewy grip. Her own was nerveless, cold as ice. She could not +have withdrawn it had she wished. But she did not wish. That action of +his had a strange effect upon her, subtly calming her reawakened doubts. +She felt that he meant to reassure her, and she suffered herself to be +reassured. + +Later, she marvelled at the ingenuity that had so successfully blinded +her, marvelled at herself for having been so blinded, marvelled most of +all at the self-restraint that could so shackle and smother the fierce +passion that ran like liquid fire in every vein as to make her fancy that +it had ceased to be. + +When her turn came at length she collected herself and left him +with a smile. + +She went through her part very creditably, but she was unspeakably +thankful when it was over. + +"You are tired, Lady Carfax," Lucas murmured, when at length she found +her way to the seat beside him that he had been reserving for her. + +"A little," she admitted. + +And then suddenly the impulse to tell him the primary cause of her +trouble came upon her irresistibly. She leaned towards him and spoke +under cover of the orchestra. + +"Mr. Errol, I have had news of--my husband. He wants to come home. No, he +is not well yet, but decidedly better, well enough to be at liberty in +the charge of an attendant. And so--and so--" + +The whispered words failed. She became silent, waiting for the steady +sympathy for which she knew she would never wait in vain. + +But he did not speak at once. It almost seemed as if he were at a loss. +It almost seemed as if he realised too fully for speech that leaden +weight of despair which had for a space so terribly overwhelmed her. + +And then at last his voice came to her, slow and gentle, yet with a vital +note in it that was like a bugle-call to her tired spirit. "Stick to it, +Lady Carfax! You'll win out. You're through the worst already." + +Desperately, as one half-ashamed, she answered him. "I wish with all my +heart I could think so. But--I am still asking myself if--if there is no +way of escape." + +He turned his head in the dim light and looked at her, and shame stabbed +her deeper still. Yet she would not recall the words. It was better that +he should know, better that he should not deem her any greater or +worthier than she was. + +Then, "Thank you for telling me," he said very simply. "But you'll win +out all the same. I have always known that you were on the winning side." + +The words touched her in a fashion not wholly accountable. Her eyes +filled with sudden tears. + +"What makes you have such faith in me?" she said. + +The light was too dim for her so see his face, but she knew that he was +smiling as he made reply. + +"That's just one of the things I can't explain," he said. "But I think +God made you for a spar for drowning men to cling to." + +She smiled with him in spite of the tears. "May the spar never fail +you!" she said. + +"I am not afraid," he answered very steadily. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BOON + + +It was long before Anne slept that night, but yet though restless she was +not wholly miserable. Neither was she perplexed. Her duty lay before her +clearly defined, and she meant to fulfil it. Those few words with Lucas +Errol had decided her beyond all hesitancy, so completely was she in +sympathy with this strong friend of hers. Perhaps her wavering had only +been the result of a moment's weakness, following upon sudden strain. But +the strain had slackened, and the weakness was over. She knew that even +Nap had not the power to move her now. With the memory of his firm +hand-grip came the conviction that he would not seek to do so. Like +herself he had been momentarily dismayed it might be, but he had taken +his place among her friends, not even asking to be foremost, and +remembering this, she resolutely expelled any lingering doubt of him. Had +she not already proved that she had but to trust him to find him +trustworthy? What tangible reason had he given her for withdrawing her +trust even for a moment? She reproached herself for it, and determined +that she would never doubt him again. + +But yet sleep was long in coming to her. Once when it seemed near, the +hooting of an owl near the open window drove it away; and once in the +vague twilight before the dawn she started awake to hear the sharp +thudding of a horse's hoofs galloping upon the turf not very far away. +That last set her heart a-beating, she could not have said wherefore, +save that it reminded her vaguely of a day in the hunting-field that had +ended for her in disaster. + +She slept at last and dreamed--a wild and fearful dream. She dreamed that +she was on horseback, galloping, galloping, galloping, in headlong flight +from someone, she knew not whom, but it was someone of whom she was +unspeakably afraid. And ever behind her at break-neck speed, gaining +upon her, merciless as fate, galloped her pursuer. It was terrible, it +was agonising, yet, though in her heart she knew it to be a dream, she +could not wake. And then, all suddenly, the race was over. Someone drew +abreast of her. A sinewy hand gripped her bridle-rein. With a gasping cry +she turned to face her captor, and saw--a Red Indian! His tigerish eyes +gazed into hers. He was laughing with a fiendish exultation. The eagle +feathers tossed above his swarthy face. It came nearer to her; it glared +into her own. And suddenly recognition stabbed her like a sword. It was +the face of Nap Errol.... + +He was on the stairs talking to Hudson, the valet, when she descended to +breakfast, but he turned at once to greet her. + +"I am sorry to say Lucas has had a bad night. He will keep his room +to-day. How have you slept, Lady Carfax?" + +She answered him conventionally. They went downstairs together. + +Bertie was in the hall studying a newspaper. He came forward, scowling +heavily, shook hands with Anne, and immediately addressed his brother. + +"I've just come in from the stable. Have you been out all night? You've +nearly ridden the mare to death." + +Anne glanced at Nap instinctively. He was smiling. "Don't vex yourself, +my good Bertie," he said. "The mare will be all right after a feed." + +"Will she?" growled Bertie. "She is half dead from exhaustion anyway." + +"Oh, skittles!" said Nap, turning to go. + +The boy's indignation leaped to a blaze. "Skittles to you! I know what +I'm saying. And if you're not ashamed of yourself, you damned well +ought to be!" + +Nap stopped. "What?" he drawled. + +Bertie glared at him and subsided. The explosion had been somewhat more +violent than he had intended. + +Very quietly Nap stepped up to him. "Will you repeat that last remark +of yours?" + +Bertie was silent. + +"Or do you prefer to withdraw it?" + +Bertie maintained a dogged silence. He was fidgeting with the paper in a +fashion that seemed to indicate embarrassment. + +"Do you withdraw it?" Nap repeated, still quiet, still slightly drawling. + +Bertie hunched his shoulders like a schoolboy. "Oh, get away, Nap!" he +growled. "Yes--sorry I spoke. Now clear out and leave me alone!" + +Anne was already at the further end of the hall, but Nap overtook her +before she entered the breakfast room. He opened the door for her, and as +she passed him she saw that he was still faintly smiling. + +"Pardon the _contretemps_!" he said. "You may have noticed before that I +am not particularly good at swallowing insults." + +"I wonder if there was a cause for it," she said, looking at him +steadily. "Remember, I know what your riding is like." + +He raised his eyebrows for a moment, then laughed. The room they entered +was empty. + +"No one down yet!" he observed. "Take a seat by the window. What will +you have?" + +He attended to her wants and his own, and finally sat down facing her. He +seemed to be in excellent spirits. + +"Please don't look so severe!" he urged. "Just as I am going to ask a +favour of you, too!" + +She smiled a little but not very willingly. "I don't like cruel people," +she said. "Cruelty is a thing I can never forget because I abhor it so." + +"And are you never cruel?" said Nap. + +"I hope not." + +"I hope not, too," he rejoined, giving her a hard look. "But I sometimes +have my doubts." + +Anne looked out of the window in silence. + +The sharp rapping of his knuckles on the table recalled her. She turned, +slightly startled, and met his imperious eyes. He smiled at her. + +"Queen Anne, I crave a boon." + +Almost involuntarily she returned his smile. "So you said before." + +"And you don't even ask what it is." + +"I am not quite sure that I want to know, Nap," she said. + +"You are not liking me this morning," he observed. + +She made no answer. + +"What is it?" he said. "Is it the mare?" + +She hesitated. "Perhaps, in part." + +"And the other part?" He leaned forward, looking at her keenly. "Are you +afraid of me, Anne?" he said. + +His voice was free from reproach, yet her heart smote her. She reminded +herself of how he had once pleaded with her for her trust. + +"I'm sorry I pressed the mare," he said, "but it was quite as much her +fault as mine. Moreover, the cub exaggerated. I will fetch him in and +make him own it if you like." + +She stayed him with a gesture. "No, don't, please! I think Bertie was +probably in the right." + +"Do you, though?" Nap leaned back again, regarding her with supercilious +attention. "It's rather--daring of you to say so." + +"Do you really think I stand in awe of you?" she said. + +"You are such a truly remarkable woman," he made answer, "that I scarcely +know what to think. But since you are not afraid of me--apparently, +perhaps I may venture to come to the point. Do you know I have been +laying plans for a surprise picnic for you and--one other? It's such a +gorgeous day. Don't refuse!" + +The boyish note she liked to hear sounded suddenly in his voice. He +discarded his cynicism and leaned towards her again, eager, persuasive. + +"Don't refuse," he reiterated. "Look at the sunshine, listen to the +birds, think of a whole day in the open! I'll take you to the loveliest +place I know in this quaint little island, and I'll be your slave all day +long. Oh, I promise you won't find me in the way. Now don't look prudish. +Be a girl for once. Never mind the rest of creation. No one else will +know anything about it. We leave Baronmead this morning in the motor, and +who cares what time we reach the Manor? It can't matter to you or anyone. +Say you'll come! Say it!" + +"My dear Nap!" Anne looked at him dubiously, uncertain whether to take +him seriously. + +"Say it!" he repeated. "There is no earthly reason why you shouldn't. And +I'll take such care of you. Why shouldn't you have a real good time for +once? You never have had in all your life." + +True, only too true! But it was not that fact that made her waver. + +"Will you tell me what plans you have made for this picnic?" she asked +at length. + +He began to smile. "My plans, Lady Carfax, are entirely subject to your +approval. About forty miles from here there is a place called +Bramhurst--a place after your own heart--a paradise. With judicious +driving we could be there by one or soon after--in time for luncheon." + +"Yes?" she said, as he stopped. + +"That's all," said Nap. + +"But--afterwards?" she hazarded. + +"My dear Lady Carfax, if it is to be a surprise picnic, where's the use +of settling all the details beforehand?" Nap's tone was one of indulgent +protest; he was eating and drinking rapidly, as if he had an appointment +to keep. "My suggestion is that we then follow our inclinations--your +inclinations." He smiled at her again. "I am your slave till sunset." + +"Could we be back at the Manor by then?" she asked. + +"Of course we could." + +"Will you promise that we shall be?" She looked up at him seriously. + +He was still smiling. "If you ordain it," he said. + +"I must be back by dinner-time," she asserted. + +"And you dine?" + +"At eight." + +He pushed back his chair and rose. "Very discreet of you! The sun sets at +eight-ten. At what hour will you deign to be ready?" + +"At eleven," said Anne. + +He glanced at his watch. "I am afraid you can't see Lucas to say +good-bye. Hudson has just given him morphia." + +"Is he so bad then?" she asked quickly. + +"No worse than he has been before. Bad pain all night. He always fights +against taking the stuff. I persuaded him." He spoke shortly, as if the +subject were distasteful to him. "No doubt he is easier by this time," he +added. "Eleven o'clock then! I will go and get ready." But even then he +paused, his hand on the back of her chair. "Can you keep a secret?" he +asked lightly. + +She glanced up at him. "A secret?" + +"An it please you," he said, "let this be a secret between yourself and +your humble slave!" + +And with the words he turned with an air of finality and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A DAY IN PARADISE + + +It was a day in the very heart of the summer, a day of cloudless skies +and wonderful, magic breezes, a day for the dreaming--and perchance for +the fulfilment--of dreams. Swift and noiseless as the swoop of a monster +bird the motor glided on its way; now rushing, now slackening, but never +halting. Sometimes it seemed to Anne that she sat motionless while the +world raced by her. She had often seen herself thus. And then with a +thrill of the pulses came the exultation of rapid movement, banishing the +illusion, while the very heart of her rejoiced in the knowledge thereof. +For this one day--for this one day--she had left the desert behind her. +She had yielded half against her judgment, but she knew no regret. On the +morrow she would be back in the waste places where, during all her +womanhood, she had wandered. But for this one day the roses bloomed for +her and she drank deep of their fragrance. It had come to her so +unexpectedly, so dazzlingly, this brief and splendid hour. She marvelled +at herself that she had hesitated even for a moment to accept it. + +Perhaps memories of another day came now and again to her as she leaned +back on the cushions and opened her soul to the sunshine, memories of a +day of sparkling winter which had begun in much the same genial +atmosphere and had ended in most hideous disaster. But if they came she +put them resolutely from her. There was no time to waste upon past or +future. For this one day she would drink the wine of the gods; she +would live. + +Nap drove in almost unbroken silence. He was wearing a mask, and she had +no clue to his thoughts; but she scarcely speculated about him. She did +not want to talk. She only desired to give herself up to the pure +pleasure of rapid movement. She had complete faith in his driving. If +daring, he was never reckless, with her beside him. + +The meadows were full of hay, and the scent of it lay like a spell upon +the senses. The whirr of the mowing machine filled the air with a lazy +droning. It was like a lullaby. And ever they sped on, through towns and +villages and hamlets, through woods and lanes and open country, sure and +swift and noiseless save for the cheery humming of the motor, which sang +softly to itself like a spinning top. + +They went through country of which Anne had no knowledge, but Nap seemed +fully acquainted with it; for he never paused to ask the way, never +raised his eyes to the finger-posts that marked the cross-roads. She +marvelled at his confidence, but asked no questions. It was not a day for +questions. + +Only when they emerged at last upon a wide moor, where the early heather +grew in tufts of deepest rose, she cried to him suddenly to stop. + +"I must get some of it. It is the first I have seen. Look! How +exquisite!" + +He drew up at the side of the long white road that zigzagged over the +moor, and they went together into the springy heath, wading in it after +the waxen flowers. + +And here Anne sat down in the blazing sunshine and lifted her clear eyes +to his. "I won't thank you, because we are friends," she said. "But this +is the best day I have ever had." + +He pushed up his goggles and sat down beside her. "So you are not sorry +you came?" he said. + +"I could not be sorry to-day," she answered. "How long have you known +this perfect place?" + +He lay back in the heather with his arms flung wide. "I came here first +one day in the spring, a day in May. The place was a blaze of gorse and +broom--as if it were on fire. It suited me--for I was on fire too." + +In the silence that succeeded his words he turned and leisurely +scrutinised her. She was snapping a stalk of heather with minute care. A +deep flush rose and spread over her face under his eyes. + +"Why don't you look at me?" he said. + +Very slowly her eyes came down to him. He was smiling in a secret +fashion, not as if he expected her to smile in return. The sunlight beat +down upon his upturned face. He blinked at her lazily and stretched every +limb in succession, like a cat. + +"Let me know when you begin to feel bored," he said. "I am quite ready to +amuse you." + +"I thought it was only the bores who were ever bored," she said. + +He opened his eyes a little. "Did I say that or did you?" + +She returned to her heather-pulling. "I believe you said it originally." + +"I remember," he returned composedly. "It was on the night you bestowed +upon me the office of court-jester, the night you dreamed I was the Knave +of Diamonds, the night that--" + +She interrupted very gently but very resolutely; "The night that we +became friends, Nap." + +"A good many things happened that night," he remarked, pulling off his +cap and pitching it from him. + +"Is that wise?" she said. "The sun is rather strong." + +He sat up, ignoring the warning. "Anne," he said, "have you ever dreamed +about me since that night?" + +She was silent, all her attention concentrated upon her bunch of heather. +His eyes left her face and began to study her hands. + +After a moment he pulled a bit of string out of his pocket and without +a word proceeded to wind it round the stalks she held. As he knotted +it he spoke. + +"So that is why you were afraid of me to-day. I knew there was something. +I winded it the moment we met. Whenever I hold your hand in mine I can +see into your soul. What was it, Anne? The Knave of Diamonds on a black +mare--riding to perdition?" + +He laughed at her softly as though she had been a child. He was still +watching her hands. Suddenly he laid his own upon them and looked +into her face. + +"Or was it just a savage?" he asked her quietly. + +Against her will, in spite of the blaze of sunshine, she shivered. + +"Yes," he said. "But isn't it better to face him than to run away? +Haven't you always found it so? You kissed him once, Anne. Do you +remember? It was the greatest thing that ever happened to him." + +He spoke with a gentleness that amazed her. His eyes held hers, but +without compulsion. He was lulling her fear of him to rest, as he +alone knew how. + +She answered him with quivering lips. "I have wondered since if I +did wrong." + +"Then don't wonder," he said. "For I was nearer to the God you worship +at that moment than I had ever been before. I never believed in Him till +then, but that night I wrestled with Him--and got beaten." He dropped +suddenly into his most cynical drawl, so that she wondered if, after +all, he were mocking her. "It kind of made an impression on me. I +thought it might interest you to know. Have you had enough of this yet? +Shall we move on?" + +She rose in silence. She was very far from certain, and yet she fancied +there had been a ring of sincerity in his words. + +As they reached the car she laid her hand for an instant on his arm. "If +it did that for you, Nap," she said, "I do not regret it." + +He smiled in his faint, cynical fashion. "I believe you'll turn me out a +good man some day," he said. "And I wonder if you will like me any when +it's done." + +"I only want you to be your better self," she answered gently. + +"Which is a myth," he returned, as he handed her in, "which exists only +in your most gracious imagination." + +And with that he pulled the mask over his face once more and turned to +the wheel. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE RETURN TO EARTH + + +It was nearly two before they reached Bramhurst and drew up before the +one ancient inn the place possessed. Upstairs, in a lattice-windowed room +with sloping floor and bulging ceiling, a room that was full of the scent +of honeysuckle, Anne washed away the dust of the road. Turning to the +mirror on the dressing-table when this was over, she stood a moment +wide-eyed, startled. Through her mind there swept again the memory of a +day that seemed very far away--a day begun in sunshine and ended in +storm, a day when she had looked into the eyes of a white-faced woman in +the glass and had shrunk away in fear. It was a very different vision +that now met her gaze, and yet she had a feeling that there was something +in it that remained unaltered. Was it in the eyes that shone from a face +so radiant that it might have been the face of a girl? + +She could not have said. Only after that one brief glimpse she +looked no more. + +Descending, she found Nap waiting for her in the oak-beamed coffee-room. +He made her sit facing the open window, looking forth upon hill and +forest and shallow winding river. + +The stout old English waiter who attended to their wants very +speedily withdrew. + +"He thinks we are on our wedding-trip," said Nap. + +She glanced at him sharply. + +"Yes, I let him have it so," he returned. "I never destroy a pretty +illusion if I can help it." + +"What time do we start back?" said Anne, aware of burning cheeks, which +he was studying with undisguised amusement. + +"Would you like some ice?" he suggested. + +She laughed, with something of an effort. "Don't be ridiculous, Nap!" + +"I am sure you have never done anything so improper in all your life +before," he went on. "What must it feel like? P'r'aps you would have +preferred me to explain the situation to him in detail? I will have him +in and do it now--if you really think it worth while. I shouldn't myself, +but then I seldom suffer from truthfulness in its most acute form. It's a +tiresome disease, isn't it? One might almost call it dashed inconvenient +on an occasion such as this. There is only one remedy that I can suggest, +and that is to pretend it's true." + +"I am not good at pretending," Anne answered gravely. + +He laughed. "Very true, O Queen! Horribly true! But I am, you know, a +positive genius in that respect. So I'm going to pretend I'm an +Englishman--of the worthy, thick-headed, bulldog breed. (I am sure you +admire it; you wouldn't be an Englishwoman if you didn't). And you are my +devoted and adorable wife. You needn't look shocked. It's all for the +sake of that chap's morals. Do you think I can do it?" + +"I don't want you to do it, Nap," she said earnestly. + +He dropped the subject instantly. "Your wish is law. There is only one +other person in this world who can command my implicit obedience in this +fashion. So I hope you appreciate your power." + +"And that other is Lucas?" said Anne. + +He nodded. "Luke the irresistible! Did you ever try to resist him?" + +She shook her head with a smile. + +"Take my advice then," he said. "Never do! He could whip creation with +his hands tied behind him. Oh, I know you all think him mild-tempered and +easy-going, more like a woman than a man. But you wait till you're hard +up against him. Then you'll know what I mean when I tell you he's +colossal." There was a queer ring of passion in his voice as he ended. It +sounded to Anne like the half-stifled cry of a wounded animal. + +Because of it she repressed the impulse to ask him what he meant. +Nevertheless, after a moment, as if impelled by some hidden force, he +continued. + +"There was a time when I thought of him much as you do. And then one day +there came a reckoning--an almighty big reckoning." He leaned back in his +chair and stared upwards, while the grim lines of his mouth tightened. +"It was down in Arizona. We fought a duel that lasted a day and a night. +He was a worse cripple in those days than he is now, but he won out--he +won out." Again came the cynical drawl, covering his actual feelings as +with an impenetrable veil. "I've had a kind of respect for him ever +since," he said. "One does, you know." + +"One would," said Anne, and again refrained from asking questions. + +She was thinking of the complete confidence with which Lucas had spoken +of his ascendency over this man. + +Finishing luncheon they went out over the common that stretched from the +very door, down the hill-side of short, sun-baked grass, passing between +masses of scorched broom, whose bursting pods crackled perpetually in the +sunshine, till they came to the green shade of forest trees and the gleam +of a running stream. + +The whirr of grasshoppers filled the air and the humming of insects +innumerable. Away in the distance sounded the metal clang of a cow-bell. +It was the only definite sound that broke the stillness. The heat was +intense. A dull, copper haze had risen and partially obscured the sun. + +Anne stopped on the edge of the stream. Wonderful dragon-flies such as +she had never seen before, peacock, orange and palest green, darted to +and fro above the brown water. Nap leaned against a tree close to her and +smoked a cigarette. + +She spoke at last without turning. "Am I in fairyland, I wonder?" + +"Or the Garden of Eden," suggested Nap. + +She laughed a little, and stooping tried to reach a forget-me-not that +grew on the edge of the water. + +"Beware of the serpent!" he warned. "Anyway, don't tumble in!" + +She stretched back a hand to him. "Don't let me go!" + +His hand closed instantly and firmly upon her wrist. In a moment she +drew back with the flower in her hand, to find his cigarette smouldering +on a tuft of moss. He set his foot upon it without explanation and +lighted another. + +"Ought we not to be starting back?" she asked. + +"It won't be so hot in half-an-hour," he said. + +"But how long will it take?" + +"It can be done in under three hours. If we start at half-past-four you +should be home well before sunset." + +He smiled with the words, and Anne suffered herself to be persuaded. +Certainly the shade of the beech trees was infinitely preferable to the +glare of the dusty roads, and the slumberous atmosphere made her feel +undeniably languorous. + +She sat down therefore on the roots of a tree, still watching the +dragon-flies flitting above the water. + +Nap stripped off his coat and made it into a cushion. "Lean back on this. +Yes, really. I'm thankful for the excuse to go without it. How is that? +Comfortable?" + +She thanked him with a smile. "I mustn't go to sleep." + +"Why not?" said Nap. "There is nothing to disturb you. I'm going back to +the inn to order tea before we start." + +He was off with the words with that free, agile gait of his that always +made her think of some wild creature of the woods. + +She leaned back with a sense of complete well-being and closed her +eyes.... + +When she opened them again it was with a guilty feeling of having been +asleep at a critical juncture. With a start she sat up and looked +around her. The sun-rays were still slanting through the wood, but +dully, as though they shone through a sheet of smoked glass. The +stillness was intense. + +A sharp sense of nervousness pricked her. There seemed to be something +ominous in the atmosphere; or was it only in her own heart that it +existed? And where was Nap? Surely he had been gone for a very long time! + +She rose stiffly and picked up his coat. At the same instant a shrill +whistle sounded through the wood, and in a moment she saw him coming +swiftly towards her. + +Quietly she moved to meet him. + +He began to speak before he reached her. "I was afraid you would be tired +of waiting and wander about till you got frightened and lost yourself. Do +you ever have hysterics?" + +"Never," said Anne firmly. + +He took his coat and began to wriggle into it, surveying her meantime +with a smile half-speculative, half-rueful. + +"Well, that's a weight off my mind, anyway," he remarked at length. +"For I have a staggering piece of news for you which I hardly dare to +impart. Oh, it's no good looking at your watch. It's hopelessly late, +nearly six o'clock, and in any case I can't get you home to-night. +There's no petrol." + +"Nap!" Anne's voice was a curious compound of consternation and relief. +Somehow--doubtless it was the effect of thunder in the atmosphere--she +had expected something in the nature of tragedy. + +Nap put on his most contrite air. "Do be a brick and take it nicely!" he +pleaded. "I know I was an all-fired fool not to see to it for myself. But +I was called away, and so I had to leave it to those dunderheads at the +garage. I only made the discovery when I left you a couple of hours ago. +There was just enough left to take me to Rodding, so I pelted off at once +to some motorworks I knew of there, only to find the place was empty. +It's a hole of a town. There was some game on, and I couldn't get a +conveyance anywhere. So I just put up the motor and came back across +country on foot. I don't see what else I could have done, do you?" + +Anne did not for the moment, but she was considering the situation too +rapidly to answer him. + +"My only consolation," he went on, "is that you have got a change of +raiment, which is more than I have. Oh, yes, I had the sense to think of +that contingency. Your bag is at the inn here, waiting for you." + +"You had better have taken me back with you to Rodding," Anne said. + +"Yes, I know. But I expected to be back in half an hour if all went well. +It's easy to be wise after the event, isn't it? I've thought of that +myself since." Nap picked up a twig and bit it viciously. "Anyway, there +is some tea waiting for us. Shall we go back?" + +Anne turned beside him. "Then what do you propose to do?" + +He glanced at her. "Nothing before morning, I'm afraid. There is no +vehicle to be had here. I will send someone down to Rodding in the +morning for a conveyance. We can take the train from there to Staps, +where I can get some petrol. We ought by that means to reach home +sometime in the afternoon. It is the only feasible plan, I am afraid; +unless you can suggest a better." + +He looked at her keenly, still biting at the twig between his teeth. + +Anne walked for several seconds in silence. At last, "Would it be quite +impossible to walk to Rodding now?" she asked. + +"Not at all," said Nap. "It is about eight miles through the woods. We +should be benighted, of course. Also I fancy there is a storm coming up. +But if you wish to make the attempt--" + +"I was only wondering," she said quietly, "if we could get an evening +train to Staps. That, I know, is on the main line. You could put up +there, and I could take the night train to town." + +"Oh, quite so," said Nap. "Shall we have tea before we start?" + +They had emerged from the wood and were beginning to climb the hill. The +veiled sunlight gave an unreal effect to the landscape. The broom bushes +looked ghostly. + +Anne gave an uneasy glance around. "I believe you are right about the +storm," she said. + +"I generally am right," observed Nap. + +They walked on. "I shouldn't like to be benighted in the woods," she said +presently. + +His scoffing smile showed for an instant. "Alone with me too! Most +improper!" + +"I was thinking we might miss the way," Anne returned with dignity. "I +wonder--shall we risk it?" + +She turned to him as if consulting him, but Nap's face was to the sky. +"That is for you to decide," he said. "We might do it. The storm won't +break at present." + +"It will be violent when it does," she said. + +He nodded. "It will." + +She quickened her steps instinctively, and he lengthened his stride. The +smile had ceased to twitch his lips. + +"Have you decided?" he asked her suddenly, and his voice sounded +almost stern. + +They were nearing the top of the hill. She paused, panting a little. +"Yes. I will spend the night here." + +He gave her a glance of approval. "You are a wise woman." + +"I hope so," said Anne. "I must telegraph at once to Dimsdale and tell +him not to expect me." + +Nap's glance fell away from her. He said nothing whatever. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN THE FACE OF THE GODS + + +"Thank the gods, we are the only guests!" said Nap that evening, as they +sat down to dine at the table at which they had lunched. + +The glare of a lurid sunset streamed across the sky and earth. There was +a waiting stillness upon all things. It was the hush before the storm. + +An unwonted restlessness had taken possession of Anne. She did not echo +his thanksgiving, an omission which he did not fail to note, but upon +which he made no comment. + +It was in fact scarcely a place for any but day visitors, being some +considerable distance from the beaten track. The dinner placed before +them was not of a very tempting description, and Anne's appetite dwindled +very rapidly. + +"You must eat something," urged Nap. "Satisfy your hunger with +strawberries and cream." + +But Anne had no hunger to satisfy, and she presently rose from the table +with something like a sigh of relief. + +They went into the drawing-room, a room smelling strongly of musk, and +littered largely with furniture of every description. Nap opened wide a +door-window that led into a miniature rosegarden. Beyond stretched the +common, every detail standing out with marvellous vividness in the weird +storm-light. + +"St. Christopher!" he murmured softly. "We are going to catch it." + +Anne sat down in a low chair near him, gazing forth in silence, her chin +on her hand. + +He turned a little and looked down at her, and thus some minutes slipped +away, the man as tensely still as the awe-stricken world without, the +woman deep in thought. + +He moved at last with a curious gesture as if he freed and restrained +himself by the same action. + +"Why don't you think out loud?" he said. + +She raised her eyes for a moment. "I was thinking of my husband," she +said. + +He made a sharp movement--a movement that was almost fierce--and again +seemed to take a fresh grip upon himself. His black brows met above his +brooding eyes. "Can't you leave him out of the reckoning for this one +night?" he asked. + +"I think not," she answered quietly. + +He turned his face to the sinking sun. It shone like a smouldering +furnace behind bars of inky cloud. + +"You told me once," he said, speaking with obvious constraint, "that you +did not think you would ever live with him again." + +She stifled a sigh in her throat. "I thought so then." + +"And what has happened to make you change your mind?" + +Anne was silent. She could not have seen the fire that leapt and darted +in the dusky eyes had she been looking at him, but she was not looking. +Her chin was back upon her hand. She was gazing out into the darkening +world with the eyes of a woman who sees once more departed visions. + +"I think," she said slowly at length, as he waited immovably for her +answer, "that I see my duty more clearly now than then." + +"Duty! Duty!" he said impatiently. "Duty is your fetish. You sacrifice +your whole life to it. And what do you get in return? A sense of virtue +perhaps, nothing more. There isn't much warming power in virtue. I've +tried it and I know!" He broke off to utter a very bitter laugh. "And so +I've given it up," he said. "It's a trail that leads to nowhere." + +Anne's brows drew together for an instant. "I hoped you might come to +think otherwise," she said. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "How can I? I've lived the life of a saint for +the past six months, and I am no nearer heaven than when I began. It's +too slow a process for me. I wasn't made to plough an endless furrow." + +"We all of us say that," said Anne, with her faint smile. "But do we +any of us really know what we were made for? Are we not all in the +making still?" + +He thrust out his chin. "I can't be abstruse tonight. I know what I +was made for, and I know what you were made for. That--anyway for +tonight--is all that matters." + +He spoke almost brutally, yet still he held himself as it were aloof. He +was staring unblinking into the sunset. Already the furnace was dying +down. The thunder-clouds were closing up. The black bars had drawn +together into one immense mass, advancing, ominous. Only through a single +narrow slit the red light still shone. + +Mutely they watched it pass, Anne with her sad eyes fixed and thoughtful, +Nap still with that suggestion of restrained activity as if he watched +for a signal. + +Gradually the rift closed, and a breathless darkness came. + +Anne uttered a little sigh. "I wish the storm would break," she said. "I +am tired of waiting." + +As if in answer, out of the west there rose a long low rumble. + +"Ah!" she said, and no more. + +For as if the signal had come, Nap turned with a movement +incredibly swift, a movement that was almost a spring, and caught her +up into his arms. + +"Are you tired of waiting, my Queen--my Queen?" he said, and there was a +note of fierce laughter in his words. "Then--by heaven--you shall wait +no longer!" + +His quick breath scorched her face, and in a moment, almost before she +knew what was happening, his lips were on her own. He kissed her as she +had never been kissed before--a single fiery kiss that sent all the blood +in tumult to her heart. She shrank and quivered under it, but she was +powerless to escape. There was sheer unshackled savagery in the holding +of his arms, and dismay thrilled her through and through. + +Yet, as his lips left hers, she managed to speak, though her voice was no +more than a gasping whisper. "Nap, are you mad? Let me go!" + +But he only held her faster, faster still. + +"Yes, I am mad," he said, and the words came quick and passionate, the +lips that uttered them still close to her own. "I am mad for you, Anne. I +worship you. And I swear that while I live no other man shall ever hold +you in his arms again. Anne--goddess--queen--woman--you are mine--you +are mine--you are mine!" + +Again his lips pressed hers, and again from head to foot she felt as if a +flame had scorched her. Desperately she began to resist him though +terribly conscious that he had her at his mercy. But he quelled her +resistance instantly, with a mastery that made her know more thoroughly +her utter impotence. + +"Do you think that you can hold me in check for ever?" he said. "I tell +you it only makes me worse. I am a savage, and chains of that sort won't +hold me. What is the good of fighting against fate? You have done it as +long as I have known you; but you are beaten at last. Oh, you may turn +your face from me. It makes no difference now. I've played for this, and +I've won! You have been goddess to me ever since the day I met you. +To-night--you shall be woman!" + +He broke into a low, exultant laugh. She could feel the fierce beating of +his heart, and her own died within her. The blaze of his passion ringed +her round like a forest fire in which all things perish. + +But even then she knew that somewhere, somewhere, there was a way of +escape, and with the instinct of the hunted creature she sought it. + +"To-night," she said, "I shall know whether you have ever really +loved me." + +"What?" he said. "You dare to question that now? Do you want to put me to +the proof then? Shall I show you how much I love you?" + +"No," she said. "Take your arms away!" + +She did not expect his obedience, but on the instant he spread them wide +and released her. + +"And now?" he said. + +She almost tottered, so amazing had been his compliance. And then as +swiftly--came the knowledge that he had not really set her free. It had +pleased him to humour her, that was all. He stood before her with all the +arrogance of a conqueror. And through the gathering darkness his eyes +shone like the eyes of a tiger--two flames piercing the gloom. + +She mustered all her strength to face him, confronting him with that +unconscious majesty that first had drawn him to her. + +"And now," she said, "let us once and for all understand one another." + +"What?" he said. "Don't you understand me yet? Don't you +realise--yet--that when a man of my stamp wants a woman he--takes her?" + +Again there throbbed in his voice that deep note of savagery, such +savagery as made her quail. But it was no moment for shrinking. She knew +instinctively that at the first sign of weakness he would take her back +into his arms. + +She straightened herself therefore, summoning all her pride. "Do you +really think I am the sort of woman to be taken so?" she asked. "Do you +really think I am yours for the taking? If so, then you have never known +me. Nor--till this moment--have I known you." + +He heard her without the faintest hint of astonishment or shame, standing +before her with that careless animal grace of his that made him in some +fashion superb. + +"Yes," he said, "I really do think you are mine for the taking this time, +but you will admit I've been patient. And I've taken the trouble to make +things easy for you. I've spirited you away without putting you through +any ordeals of hesitation or suspense. I've done it all quite +unobtrusively. To-morrow we go to London, after that to Paris, and after +that--whithersoever you will--anywhere under the sun where we can be +alone. As to knowing each other"--his voice changed subtly, became soft, +with something of a purring quality--"we have all our lives before us, +and we shall be learning every day." + +His absolute assurance struck her dumb. There was something implacable +about it, something unassailable--a stronghold which she felt powerless +to attack. + +"Doesn't that programme attract you?" he said, drawing nearer to her. +"Can you suggest a better? The whole world is before us. Shall we go +exploring, you and I, alone in the wilds, and find some Eden that no man +has ever trodden before? Shall we, Anne? Shall we? Right away from +everywhere, somewhere in the sun, where I can teach you to be happy and +you can teach me to be--good." + +But at his movement she moved also, drawing back. "No!" she said. Her +voice was low, but not lacking in strength. Having spoken, she went on +almost without effort. "You are building upon a false foundation. If it +were not so, I don't think I could possibly forgive you. As it is, I +think when you realise your mistake you will find it hard to forgive +yourself. I have treated you as a friend because I thought I could do so +with safety. I thought for the sake of my friendship you had given up all +thought of anything else. I thought you were to be trusted and I trusted +you. Oh, I admit I ought to have known you better. But I shall never +make that mistake again." + +"No," Nap said. "I don't think you will." + +He spoke deliberately; he almost drawled. Yet a sense of danger stabbed +her. His sudden coldness was more terrible than his heat. + +"But why say this to me now?" he said. "Do you think it will make any +difference?" + +He had not moved as he uttered the words, and yet she felt as if he +menaced her. He made her think of a crouching tiger--a tiger whose +devotion had turned to sudden animosity. + +She did not shrink from him, but her heart quickened. "It must make a +difference," she said. "You have utterly misunderstood me, or you would +never have brought me here." + +"Don't be too sure of that," he returned. "It may be that you can deceive +yourself more easily than you can deceive me. Or again, it may be that I +have come to the end of my patience and have decided to take by storm +what cannot be won by waiting." + +She drew herself up proudly. "And you call that--love!" she said, with a +scorn that she had never before turned against him. "You dare to call +that--love!" + +"Call it what you will!" he flashed back. "It is something that can crush +your cold virtue into atoms, something that can turn you from a marble +saint into a living woman of flesh and blood. For your sake I've +tried--I've agonised--to reach your level. And I've failed because I +can't breathe there. To-night you shall come down from your heights to +mine. You who have never lived yet shall know life--as I know +it--to-night!" + +Fiercely he flung the words, and the breath of his passion was like a +fiery blast blown from the heart of a raging furnace. But still she did +not shrink before him. Proud and calm she waited, bearing herself with a +queenly courage that never faltered. + +And it was as if she stood in a magic circle, for he raised no hand to +touch her. Without word or movement she kept him at bay. Erect, +unflinching, regal, she held her own. + +He caught his breath as he faced her. The beast in him slunk back afraid, +but the devil urged him forward. He came close to her, peering into her +face, searching for that weak place in every woman's armour which the +devil generally knows how to find. But still he did not offer to touch +her. He had let her go out of his arms when he had believed her his own, +and now he could not take her again. + +"Anne," he said suddenly, "where is your love for me? I will swear you +loved me once." + +"I never loved you," she answered, her words clear-cut, cold as steel. "I +never loved you. Once, it is true, I fancied that you were such a man as +I could have loved. But that passed. I did not know you in those days. I +know you now." + +"And hate me for what you know?" he said. + +"No," she answered. "I do not even hate you." + +"What then?" he gibed. "You are--sorry for me perhaps?" + +"No!" Very distinct and steady came her reply. "I only despise you now." + +"What?" he said. + +"I despise you," she repeated slowly, "knowing what you might be, and +knowing--what you are." + +The words passed out in silence--a silence so tense that it seemed as if +the world itself had stopped. Through it after many seconds came Nap's +voice, so softly that it scarcely seemed to break it. + +"It is not always wise to despise an enemy, Lady Carfax--especially if +you chance to be in that enemy's power." + +She did not deign to answer; but her gaze did not flinch from his, nor +did her pride waver. + +He drew something abruptly from his pocket and held it up before her. "Do +you see this?" + +She stirred then, ever so slightly, a movement wholly involuntary, +instantly checked. "Are you going to shoot me?" she asked. + +"I thought that would make you speak," he remarked. "And you still +despise me?" + +Her breathing had quickened, but her answer was instant; for the first +time it held a throb of anger. "I despise you for a coward. You are even +viler than I thought." + +He returned the weapon to his pocket. "It is not for you," he said. "I am +more primitive than that. It is for the man who stands between us, for +the man who thought he could whip Nap Errol--and live. I have never gone +unarmed since." + +He paused a moment, grimly regarding her. Then, "There is only one +thing I will take in exchange for that man's life," he said. +"Only--one--thing!" + +But she stood like a statue, uttering no word. + +A sudden gust of passion swept over him, lashing him to headlong fury. +"And that one thing I mean to have!" he told her violently. "No power in +heaven or hell shall keep you from me. I tell you"--his voice rose, and +in the darkness those two flames glowed more redly, such flames as had +surely never burned before in the face of a man--"whatever you may say, +you are mine, and in your heart you know it. Sooner or later--sooner or +later--I will make you own it." His voice sank suddenly to a whisper, no +longer passionate, only inexpressibly evil. "Will you despise me then, +Queen Anne? I wonder!--I wonder!" + +She moved at last, raised her hand, stiffly pointed. "Go!" she +said. "Go!" + +Yet for a space he still stood in the doorway, menacing her, a vital +figure, lithe, erect, dominant. The tension was terrible. It seemed to be +strained to snapping point, and yet it held. + +It was the fiercest battle she had ever known--a battle in which his will +grappled with hers in a mighty, all-mastering grip, increasing every +instant till she felt crushed, impotent, lost, as if all the powers of +evil were let loose and seething around her, dragging her down. + +Her resolution began to falter at last. She became conscious of a numbing +sense of physical weakness, an oppression so overwhelming that she +thought her heart would never beat again. Once more she seemed to totter +on the edge of a depth too immense to contemplate, to hover above the +very pit of destruction... + +And then suddenly the ordeal was over. A blinding flash of lightning lit +the room, glimmered weirdly, splitting the gloom as a sword rending a +curtain, and was gone. There came a sound like the snarl of a startled +animal, and the next instant a frightful crash of thunder. + +Anne reeled back, dazed, stunned, utterly unnerved, and sank into a +chair. + +When she came to herself she was alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AN APPEAL AND ITS ANSWER + + +A puff of rain-washed air wandered in through the wide-flung window, and +Lucas Errol turned his head languidly upon the pillow to feel it on his +face. He sighed as he moved, as if even that slight exertion cost him +some resolution. His eyes had a heavy, drugged look. They seemed more +deeply sunken than usual, but there was no sleep in them, only the utter +weariness that follows the sleep of morphia. + +At the soft opening of the door a faint frown drew his forehead, but it +turned to a smile as Bertie came forward with cautious tread. + +"That you, dear fellow? I am awake." + +Bertie came to his side, his brown face full of concern. "Are you better, +old chap?" + +"Yes, better, thanks. Only so dog-tired. Sit down. Have you brought +the budget?" + +"There's nothing much to-day. Only that chap Cradock writing again for +instructions about the Arizona ranch, and a few Wall Street tips from +Marsh by cable. Say, Luke, I don't think Cradock is overweighted with +spunk, never have thought so. Guess that ranch wants a bigger man." + +"I'll see his letter," said Lucas. "Presently will do. What about Marsh?" + +"Oh, he's behind the scenes as usual. You'd better read him now. The rest +will keep. When you've done that I want to talk to you." + +"So I gathered. Stuff in another pillow behind me, will you? I can think +better sitting up." + +"I shouldn't, old chap, really. You're always easier lying down." + +"Oh, shucks, Bertie! Do as you're told. And don't look at me like that, +you old duffer. It's a mean advantage to take of a sick man. Steady +now, steady! Go slow! You mustn't slam a creaking gate. It's bad for +the hinges." + +But notwithstanding Bertie's utmost care there were heavy drops on his +brother's forehead as he sank again upon his pillows. Bertie wiped them +away with a hand that trembled a little, and Lucas smiled up at him with +twitching lips. + +"Thanks, boy! It was only a twinge. Sit down again, and give me Marsh's +cipher and the morning papers. The letters you shall read to me +presently." + +He straightway immersed himself in business matters with the shrewdness +and concentration that ever aroused his young brother's deepest +admiration. + +"What a marvellous grip you've got on things, Luke!" he exclaimed at the +end of it. "No wonder you are always on the top! You're great, man, +you're great!" + +"I guess it's just my speciality," the millionaire said, with his weary +smile. "I must be getting another secretary soon, boy. It's a shame to +eat up your time like this. What is it you want to talk to me about? +Going to get married?" + +Bertie shook his head. "The padre won't hear of it yet, and Dot +herself--well, you know, I said I'd wait." + +"Don't wait too long," said Lucas quietly. "You shall have the old Dower +House to live in. Tell the padre that. It's only a stone's throw from the +Rectory. We'll build a garage too, eh, Bertie? The wife must have her +motor. And presently, when you are called to the Bar, you will want a +flat in town." + +"You're a brick, Luke!" the boy declared, with shining eyes. "Between +ourselves, I don't expect to do much at the Bar, but I'm sticking to it +just to show 'em I can work like the rest of creation. I'd sooner be your +secretary for all time, and you know it." + +"That so?" Lucas stretched a hand towards him. "But I guess you're right. +I don't want you to depend on me for employment. If I were to go out one +of these days you'd feel rather left. It's better you should have other +resources." + +"Luke, I say! Luke!" + +But the quick distress of the words was checked by the gentle restraint +of Lucas's hand. "I know! I know! But we've all got to die sooner or +later, and one doesn't want to tear a larger hole than one need. That's +all right, Bertie boy. We'll shunt the subject. Only, if you want to +please me, get that nice little girl to marry you soon. Now what was it +you wanted to say? Something about Nap?" + +"Yes. How did you know? It's an infernal shame to worry you when you're +not fit for it. But the mother and I both think you ought to know." + +"Go ahead, dear fellow! I'm tougher than you think. What has +become of Nap?" + +"That's just the question. You know he went off in the car with Lady +Carfax yesterday morning?" + +"I didn't know," murmured Lucas. "That's a detail. Go on." + +"Late last night the car had not returned, and the mother began to +wonder. Of course if Lady Carfax hadn't been there it wouldn't have +mattered much, but as it was we got anxious, and in the end I posted off +to the Manor to know if she had arrived. She had not. But while I was +there a wire came for the butler from a place called Bramhurst, which is +about fifty miles away, to say that the car had broken down and they +couldn't return before to-day. Well, that looked to me deuced queer. I'm +convinced that Nap is up to some devilry. What on earth induced her to +go there with him anyway? The mother was real bothered about it, and so +was I. We couldn't rest, either of us. And in the end she ordered the big +Daimler and went off to Bramhurst herself. I wanted to go with her, but +she wouldn't have me at any price. You know the mother. So I stopped to +look after things here. Everyone cleared off this morning, thank the +gods. I don't think anyone smelt a rat. I told them the mother had gone +to nurse a sick friend, and it seemed to go down all right." + +Lucas had listened to the recital with closed eyes and a perfectly +expressionless face. He did not speak for a few moments when Bertie +ended. At length, "And the mother is not back yet?" he asked. + +"No. But I'm not afraid for her. She knows how to hold her own." + +"That's so," Lucas conceded; and fell silent again. + +He was frowning a little as if in contemplation of some difficulty, but +his composure was absolute. + +"There may be nothing in it," he said at last. + +Bertie grunted. "I knew he was in a wild beast mood before they started. +He nearly rode the black mare to death in the early morning." + +"Why wasn't I told of that?" Lucas opened his eyes with the question and +looked directly at his brother's worried countenance. + +"My dear fellow, you were too sick to be bothered. Besides, you were +taking morphia. He saw to that." + +Lucas closed his eyes again without comment, A long pause ensued before +he spoke again. + +Then: "Bertie," he said, "go down to the garage and leave word that as +soon as Nap returns I want to speak to him." + +"He won't return," said Bertie, with conviction. + +"I think he will. It is even possible that he has returned already. In +any case, go and tell them. Ah, Tawny, what is it?" + +The valet came to his master's side. His hideous features wore an +expression that made them almost benign. The dumb devotion of an animal +looked out of his eyes. + +"A note, sir, from the Manor." + +"Who brought it?" asked Lucas. + +"A groom, sir." + +"Waiting for an answer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Lucas opened the note. It was from Anne. + +He read a few lines, then glanced at Bertie. "It's all right, Bertie. Go +and give that message, will you? Say it's important--an urgent matter of +business." + +Bertie departed, and Lucas's eyes returned to the sheet he held. + +Tawny Hudson stood motionless beside him, and several silent seconds +ticked away. His master spoke at length. + +"Pen and paper, Tawny. Yes, that's right. Now put your arm behind the +pillows and give me a hoist. Slowly now, slowly!" + +And then, as the man supported him, very slowly and unsteadily he traced +a few words. + +"Don't worry. All's well.--Lucas." + +Abruptly the pen fell from his fingers; his head dropped back. His face +was drawn and ghastly as he uttered a few gasping whispers. "Tawny, give +me something--quick! This pain is--killing me!" + +The man lowered him again, and took a bottle from a side-table. As he +measured some drops into a glass the only sound in the room was his +master's agonised breathing. + +Yet he knew without turning that someone had entered, and he betrayed no +surprise when Nap's hand suddenly whisked the glass from his hold and +held it to the panting lips. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE IRRESISTIBLE + + +The first words Lucas uttered when utterance became possible to him were, +"No morphia!" + +Nap was deftly drawing away the pillows to ease his position. "All right, +old fellow," he made answer. "But you know you can't sit up when you are +like this. What possessed you to try?" + +"Business," murmured Lucas. "Don't go again, Boney. I want you." + +"So I've been told. I am quite at your service. Don't speak till you +feel better." + +"Ah! I am better now. There's magic about you, I believe. Or is it +electricity?" Lucas's eyes rested on the grim face above him with a +certain wistfulness. + +Nap only smiled cynically. "Is Hudson to take this note? Can I address +it for you?" + +If he expected to cause any discomfiture by the suggestion he was +disappointed. Lucas answered him with absolute composure. + +"Yes; to Lady Carfax at the Manor. It is to go at once." + +Nap thrust it into an envelope with a perfectly inscrutable countenance, +scrawled the address, and handed it to the valet. "You needn't come back +till you are rung for," he said. + +And with that he calmly seated himself by his brother's side with the air +of a man with ample leisure at his disposal. + +As the door closed he spoke. "Hadn't you better have a smoke?" + +"No. I must talk first. I wish you would sit where I can see you." + +Nap pulled his chair round at once and sat in the full glare of the +noonday sun. "Is that enough lime-light for you? Now, what ails the great +chief? Does he think his brother will run away while he sleeps?" + +There was a hint of tenderness underlying the banter in his voice. He +stooped with the words and picked up a letter that lay on the floor. +"This yours?" + +Lucas's half-extended hand fell. "And you may read it," he said. + +"Many thanks! I don't read women's letters unless they chance to be +addressed to me--no, not even if they concern me very nearly." Nap's +teeth gleamed for a moment. "I'm afraid you must play off your own bat, +my worthy brother, though if you take my advice you'll postpone it. +You're about used up, and I'm deuced thirsty. It's not a peaceful +combination." + +Again, despite the nonchalance of his speech, it was not without a +certain gentleness. He laid the letter on the bed within reach of his +brother's hand. + +"I won't leave the premises till you have had your turn," he said. "I +guess that's a fair offer anyway. Now curl up and rest." + +But Lucas negatived the suggestion instantly though very quietly. "I'll +take my turn now if you've no objection. That ranch in Arizona, Boney, is +beginning to worry me some. I want you to take it in hand. It's a little +job peculiarly suited to your abilities." + +Nap jerked up his head with an odd gesture, not solely indicative of +surprise. "What do you know of my abilities?" + +"More than most." Very steadily Lucas made answer. "I depend on you in a +fashion you little dream of, and I guess you won't fail me." + +Nap's jaw slowly hardened. "I'm not very likely to disappoint you," he +observed, "more especially as I have no intention of removing to Arizona +at present." + +"No?" + +"No." + +"Not if I make a point of it?" Lucas spoke heavily, as if the effort of +speech were great. His hand had clenched upon Anne's letter. + +Nap leaned forward without replying, the sunlight still shining upon his +face, and looked at him attentively. + +"Yes," Lucas said very wearily. "It has come to that. I can't have you +here disturbing the public peace. I won't have my own brother arraigned +as a murderer. Nor will I have Anne Carfax pilloried by you for all +England to throw mud at. I've stood a good deal from you, Boney, but I'm +damned if I'm going to stand this." + +"The only question is, Can you prevent it?" said Nap, without the +faintest change of countenance. + +"I am going to prevent it." + +"If you can." + +"I am going to prevent it," Lucas repeated. "Before we go any further, +give me that shooter of yours." + +Nap hesitated for a single instant, then, with a gesture openly +contemptuous, he took the revolver from his pocket and tossed it on +to the bed. + +Lucas laid his hand upon it. He was looking full into Nap's face. "Now, I +want you to tell me something," he said. "I seem to remember your saying +to me once in this very room that you and Lady Carfax were friends, no +more, no less. You were mighty anxious that I shouldn't misunderstand. +Remember that episode?" + +"Perfectly," said Nap. + +"I surmised that you told me that because you honestly cared for her as a +friend. Was that so?" + +Nap made a slight movement, such a movement as a man makes when he +catches sight of a stone to his path too late to avoid it. + +"You may say so if you wish," he said. + +"Meaning that things have changed since then?" questioned Lucas, in his +tired drawl. + +Nap threw up his head with the action of a jibbing horse. "You can put it +how you like. You can say--if you like--that I am a bigger blackguard now +than I was then. It makes no difference how you put it." + +"But I want to know," said Lucas quietly. "Are you a blackguard, Boney?" + +His eyes were fixed steadily upon the dusky face with its prominent +cheek-bones and mocking mouth. Perhaps he knew, what Anne had discovered +long before, that those sensitive lips might easily reveal what the +fierce eyes hid. + +"A matter of opinion," threw back Nap. "If I am, Anne Carfax has +made me so." + +"Anne Carfax," said Lucas very deliberately, "has done her best to make a +man of you. It is not her fault if she has failed. It is not her fault +that you have chosen to drag her friendship through the mire." + +"Friendship!" broke in Nap. "She gave me more than that." + +Lucas's brows contracted as if at a sudden dart of pain, but his voice +was perfectly level as he made reply: "Whatever she gave you was the gift +of a good woman of which you have proved yourself utterly unworthy." + +Nap sprang to his feet. "Be it so!" he exclaimed harshly. "I am unworthy. +What of it? She always knew I was." + +"Yet she trusted you." + +"She trusted me, yes. Having cast out the devil she found in possession, +she thought there was nothing more to me. She thought that I should be +content to wander empty all my days through dry places, seeking rest. She +forgot the sequel, forgot what was bound to happen when I found none. You +seem to have forgotten that too. Or do you think that I am indeed that +interesting vacuum that you are pleased to call a gentleman?" He flung +his arms wide with a sudden, passionate laugh. "Why, my good fellow, I'd +sooner rank myself with the beasts that perish. And I'd sooner perish +too; yes, die with a rope round my throat in the good old English +fashion. There's nothing in that. I'd as soon die that way as any other. +It may not be so artistic as our method, but it's quite a clean process, +and the ultimate result is the same." + +"Do you mind sitting down?" said Lucas. + +Nap looked at him sharply. "In pain again?" + +"Sit down," Lucas reiterated. "You can't do anything more than that. Now +will you take the trouble to make me understand what exactly are your +present intentions, and why?" + +"Doesn't that letter tell you?" said Nap. + +"This letter," Lucas answered, "is the desperate appeal of a very unhappy +woman who is in mortal dread of your murdering her husband." + +"That all?" said Nap. The red glare of savagery flickered for an instant +in his eyes. "She has no fears on her own account then?" + +"Will you explain?" + +"Oh, certainly, if you need explanation. I mean that the death of Sir +Giles Carfax is no more than a stepping-stone, a means to an end. So long +as he lives, he will stand in my way. Therefore Sir Giles will go. And +mark me, any other man who attempts to come between us I will kill also. +Heaven knows what there is in her that attracts me, but there is +something--something I have never seen in any other woman--something that +goes to my head. Oh, I'm not in love with her. I'm long past that stage. +One can't be in love for ever, and she is as cold as the North Star +anyway. But she has driven me mad, and I warn you--I warn you--you had +better not interfere with me!" + +He flung the words like a challenge. His lower jaw was thrust forward. He +looked like a savage animal menacing his keeper. + +But Lucas lay without moving a muscle, lay still and quiet, without +tension and without emotion of any description, simply watching, as a +disinterested spectator might watch, the fiery rebellion that had kindled +against him. + +At length very deliberately he held out the revolver. + +"Well," he drawled, "my life isn't worth much, it's true. And you are +quite welcome to take your gun and end it here and now if you feel so +disposed. For I warn you, Nap Errol, that you'll find me considerably +more in your way than Sir Giles Carfax or any other man. I stand between +you already, and while I live you won't shunt me." + +Nap's lips showed their scoffing smile. "Unfortunately--or otherwise--you +are out of the reckoning," he said. + +"Am I? And how long have I been that?" + +Nap was silent. He looked suddenly stubborn. + +Lucas waited. There was even a hint of humour in his steady eyes. + +"And that's where you begin to make a mistake," he said presently. +"You're a poor sort of blackguard at best, Boney, and that's why you +can't break away. Take this thing! I've no use for it. But maybe in +Arizona you'll find it advisable to carry arms. Come over here and read +Cradock's letter." + +But Nap swung away with a gesture of fierce unrest. He fell to prowling +to and fro, stopping short of the bed at each turn, refusing doggedly to +face the quiet eyes of the man who lay there. + +Minutes passed. Lucas was still watching, but he was no longer at his +ease. His brows were drawn heavily. He looked like a man undergoing +torture. His hand was still fast closed upon Anne's letter. + +He spoke at last, seeming to grind out the words through clenched teeth. +"I guess there's no help for it, Boney. We've figured it out before, you +and I. I'm no great swell at fighting, but--I can hold my own against +you. And if it comes to a tug-of-war--you'll lose." + +Nap came to his side at last and stood there, still not looking at him. +"You seem almighty sure of that," he said. + +"That's so," said Lucas simply. "And if you care to know why, I'll tell +you. It's just because your heart isn't in it. One half of you is on my +side. You're just not blackguard enough." + +"And so you want to send me to Arizona to mature?" suggested Nap grimly. + +"Or to find yourself," Lucas substituted. "Say, Boney, if you don't give +in pretty soon I'll make you take me along." + +"You!" Nap's eyes came down at last to the drawn face. He gave a slight +start, and the next moment stooped to lift the tortured frame to another +position. "If Capper were here he'd say I was killing you," he said. "For +Heaven's sake, man, rest!" + +"No," gasped Lucas. "No! I haven't finished--yet. Boney, you--you've got +to listen. There's no quarrel between us. Only if you will be so damned +headstrong, I must be headstrong too. I mean what I say. If you won't go +to Arizona alone, you will go with me. And we'll start to-night." + +Nap's thin lips twitched, but with no impulse to ridicule. He rearranged +the pillows with his usual dexterous rapidity, then deliberately laid his +hand upon the lined forehead and stood so in utter silence, staring +unblinking straight before him. + +For many seconds Lucas also lay passive. His eyelids drooped heavily, +but he would not suffer them to close. He was yet watching, watching +narrowly, the flame that still smouldered and might blaze afresh at +any moment. + +"Give it up, Boney!" he said at last. "I'll go with you to the ends of +the earth sooner than let you do this thing, and you'll find me a very +considerable encumbrance. Do you honestly believe yourself capable of +shunting me at will?" + +"I honestly believe you'll kill yourself if you don't rest," Nap said. + +He looked down suddenly into the tired eyes. The fierce glare had gone +utterly out of his own. His very pose had altered. + +"Then I shall die in a good cause," Lucas murmured, with the ghost of a +smile. "You needn't say any more, Boney. I guess I shall rest now." + +"Because you think you've beaten me," Nap said curtly. + +"Guess it's your victory, dear fellow, not mine," Lucas answered +very gently. + +A gleam that was not a smile crossed the harsh face, softening but not +gladdening. "It's a mighty hollow one anyway. And I'm not going for +nothing--not even to please you." + +"Anything--to the half of my kingdom," Lucas said. + +Nap sat down on the edge of the bed. The madness had passed, or he had +thrust it back out of sight in the darkest recesses of his soul. He laid +a hand upon his brother's arm and felt it speculatively. + +"No sinew, no flesh, and scarcely any blood!" he said. "And yet"--his +mouth twisted a little--"my master! Luke, you're a genius!" + +"Oh, shucks, Boney! What's brute strength anyway?" + +"Not much," Nap admitted. "But you--you haven't the force of a day-old +puppy. Maybe, when I'm out of the way fighting my devils in the desert, +you'll give Capper a free hand, and let him make of you what you were +always intended to be--a human masterpiece. There won't be any obstacles +when I'm out of the way." + +Lucas's hand felt for and closed upon his. "If that's your condition, +it's a bargain," he said simply. + +"And you'll put up a fight for it, eh, Luke? You're rather apt to slack +when I'm not by." Was there a hint of wistfulness in the words? It almost +seemed so. + +A very tender look came into the elder man's eyes. "With God's help, +Boney," he said, "I'll pull through." + +Nap rose as if that ended the interview. Yet, rising, he still gripped +the weak hand of the man who was his master. + +A moment he stood, then suddenly bent very low and touched it with +his forehead. + +"I leave to-night," he said, and turning went very quickly and +noiselessly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ON THE EDGE OF THE PIT + + +It was a very cheery Dot Waring who ran across the wet fields that +afternoon to the Manor to acquaint Lady Carfax with the gratifying +intelligence that the proceeds of the great entertainment at which she +had so kindly assisted actually amounted to close upon thirty pounds. +Baronford had done its humble best towards providing itself with a Town +Hall, had in fact transcended all expectations, and Dot was in high +spirits in consequence. + +It was something of a disappointment to be met by old Dimsdale with the +intelligence that her ladyship was very tired and resting. He added, +seeing Dot's face fall, that Mrs. Errol was spending a few days at the +Manor and would no doubt be very pleased to see her. + +So Dot entered, and was presently embraced by Mrs. Errol and invited to +take tea with her in the conservatory. + +"Yes, dear Anne's in bed," she said. "She and Nap went for a motor ride +yesterday, and broke down and were benighted. Nap always was sort of +reckless. We had a message late last night telling us what had happened, +and I went off at once in the big car and brought Anne back. Nap had to +wait for his own car, but I guess he's back by this time. And poor Anne +was so worn out when we got back that I persuaded her to go to bed right +away. And I stopped to take care of her." + +In view of the fact that Mrs. Errol was never happier than when she had +someone to take care of, this seemed but natural, and Dot's +straightforward mind found nothing unusual in the story. + +She remained for nearly an hour, chattering gaily upon a thousand topics. +She was always at her ease with Mrs. Errol. + +At parting, the latter held her for a moment very closely. "Happy, +dearie?" she asked. + +"Oh, ever so happy," said Dot, with warm arms round her friend's neck. + +Mrs. Errol sighed a little, smiled and kissed her. "God keep you so, +child!" she said. + +And Dot went forth again into the hazy summer sunshine with a vague +wonder if dear Mrs. Errol were quite happy too. Somehow she had not +liked to ask. + +Her way lay over the shoulder of a hill, that same hill on which Sir +Giles Carfax had once wreaked his mad vengeance upon his enemy. + +A mist lay along the valley, and Dot kept on the ridge as long as she +could. She was essentially a creature of sunshine. + +She was obliged, however, at last to strike downwards, and with regret +she left the sunshine behind. + +The moment it was out of her eyes she caught sight of something she had +not expected to see in the valley below her. It was not a hundred yards +away, but the mist rising from the marshy ground partially obscured it. A +dark object, curiously shapeless, that yet had the look of an animal, was +lying in a hollow, and over it bent the figure of a man. + +Dot's heart quickened a little. Had there been an accident, she asked +herself? She hastened her steps and drew near. + +As she did so, the man straightened himself suddenly, and turned round, +and instantly a thrill of recognition and of horror went through the +girl. It was Nap Errol, and the thing on the ground was his black mare. + +She knew in a flash what had happened. Bertie had predicted disaster too +often for her not to know. A great wave of repulsion surged through her. +She was for the moment too horrified for speech. + +Nap stood, erect, motionless, waiting for her. There was a terrible set +smile on his face like the smile on a death-mask. He did not utter a word +as she came up. + +The mare was quite dead. The starting, bloodshot eyes were already +glazing. She lay in a huddled heap, mud-stained, froth-splashed, with +blood upon her flanks. White-faced and speechless, Dot stood and looked. +It was the first time that tragedy had ever touched her gay young life. + +She stooped at last, and with trembling, pitiful fingers touched the +velvet muzzle. Then suddenly indignation, fierce, overwhelming, headlong, +swept over her, crowding out even her horror. She stood up and faced Nap +in such a tornado of fury as had never before shaken her. + +"You brute!" she said. "You fiend! You--you--" + +"Devil," said Nap. "Why not say it? I shan't contradict you." + +He spoke quite quietly, so quietly that, even in the wild tempest of her +anger she was awed. There was something unfathomable about him, something +that nevertheless arrested her at the very height of her fury. His manner +was so still, so deadly still, and so utterly free from cynicism. + +She stood and stared at him, a queer sensation of dread making her very +heart feel cold. + +"I should go if I were you," he said. + +But Dot stood still, as if struck powerless. + +"You can't do any good," he went on, his tone quite gentle, even remotely +kind. "I had to kill something, but it was a pity you chanced to see it. +You had better go home and forget it." + +Dot's white lips began to move, but it was several seconds before any +sound came from them. "What are you going to do?" + +"That's my affair," said Nap. + +He was still faintly smiling, but his smile appalled her. It was so +cold, so impersonal, so void of all vitality. + +"Really, you had better go," he said. + +But Dot's dread had begun to take tangible form. Perhaps the very shock +she had undergone had served to awaken in her some of the dormant +instincts of her womanhood. + +She stood her ground, obedient to an inner prompting that she dared not +ignore. "Will you--walk a little way with me?" she said at last. + +For the first time Nap's eyes looked at her intently, searched her +closely, unsparingly. She faced the scrutiny bravely, but she +trembled under it. + +At the end of a lengthy pause he spoke. "Are you going to faint?" + +"No," she answered quickly. "I never faint. Only--only--I do +feel--rather sick." + +He put his hand under her arm with a suddenness that allowed of no +protest and began to march her up the hill. + +Long before they reached the top Dot's face was scarlet with exertion +and she was gasping painfully for breath; but he would not let her rest +till they were over the summit and out of sight of the valley and what +lay there. + +Then, to her relief, he stopped. "Better now?" + +"Yes," she panted. + +His hand fell away from her. He turned to go. But swiftly she turned also +and caught his arm "Nap, please--" she begged, "please--" + +He stood still, and again his eyes scanned her. "Yes?" + +The brief word sounded stern, but Dot was too anxious to take any +note of that. + +"Come a little farther," she urged. "It--it's lonely through the wood." + +"What are you afraid of?" said Nap. + +She could not tell him the truth, and she hesitated to lie. But his +eyes read her through and through without effort. When he turned and +walked beside her she was quite sure that he had fathomed the +unspeakable dread which had been steadily growing within her since the +moment of their meeting. + +He did not say another word, merely paced along with his silent tread +till they reached the small wood through which her path lay. Dot's anger +had wholly left her, but her fear remained. A terrible sense of +responsibility was upon her, and she was utterly at a loss as to how to +cope with it. Her influence over this man she believed to be absolutely +nil. She had not the faintest notion how to deal with him. Lady Carfax +would have known, she reflected, and she wished with all her heart that +Lady Carfax had been there. + +He vaulted the stile into the wood, and held up his hand to her. As she +placed hers within it she summoned her resolution and spoke. + +"Nap, I'm sorry I said what I did just now." + +He raised his brows for the fraction of a second. "I forget what +you said." + +She flushed a little. "Because you don't choose to remember. But I am +sorry I spoke all the same. I lost my temper, and I--I suppose I had no +right to." + +"Pray don't apologise," he said. "It made no difference, I assure you." + +But this was not what Dot wanted. She descended to the ground and tried +again. It was something at least to have broken the silence. + +"Nap," she said, standing still with her hands nervously clasped behind +her, "please don't think me--impertinent, or anything of that sort. But I +can't help knowing that you are feeling pretty bad about it. And--and" +she began to falter--"I know you are not a brute really. You didn't mean +to do it." + +A curious little smile came into Nap's face. "It's good of you to make +excuses for me," he observed. "You happen to know me rather well, +don't you?" + +"I know you are in trouble," she answered rather piteously. +"And--I'm sorry." + +"Thanks!" he said. "Do we part here?" + +She thrust out her hand impulsively. "I thought we decided to +be--friends," she said, a sharp quiver in her voice. + +"Well?" said Nap. He did not touch her hand. His fingers were wound in +the thong of his riding-crop and strained at it incessantly as if seeking +to snap it asunder. + +Dot was on the verge of tears. She choked them back desperately. "You +might behave as if we were," she said. + +He continued to tug grimly at the whip-lash. "I'm not friends with anyone +at the present moment," he said. "But it isn't worth crying over anyway. +Why don't you run home and play draughts with Bertie?" + +"Because I'm not what you take me for!" Dot suddenly laid trembling hands +on the creaking leather and faced him with all her courage. "I can't help +what you think of me," she said rather breathlessly. "But I'm not going +to leave you here by yourself. You may be as furious as you like. I +simply won't!" + +He pulled the whip sharply from her grasp. She thought for the moment +that he actually was furious and braced herself to meet the tempest of +his wrath. And then to her amazement he spoke in a tone that held neither +sarcasm nor resentment, only a detached sort of curiosity. + +"Are you quite sure I'm worth all this trouble?" + +"Quite sure," she answered emphatically. + +"And I wonder how you arrived at that conclusion," he said with a twist +of the mouth that was scarcely humorous. + +She did not answer, for she felt utterly unequal to the discussion. + +They began to walk on down the mossy pathway. Suddenly an idea came to +Dot. "I only wish Lady Carfax were here," she exclaimed impetuously. +"She would know how to convince you of that." + +"Would she?" said Nap. He shot a swift look at the girl beside him, then: +"You see, Lady Carfax has thrown me over," he told her very deliberately. + +Dot gave a great start. "Oh, surely not! She would never throw over +anyone. And you have always been such friends." + +"Till I offended her," said Nap. + +"Oh, but couldn't you go and apologise?" urged Dot eagerly. "She is so +sweet. I know she would forgive anybody." + +He jerked up his head. "I don't happen to want her forgiveness. And +even if I did, I shouldn't ask for it. I'm not particularly great at +humbling myself." + +"Isn't that rather a mistake?" said Dot. + +"No," he rejoined briefly. "Not when I'm despised already for a savage +and the descendant of savages." + +"I am afraid I don't understand," she said. + +He uttered a sudden harsh laugh. "I see you don't. Or you would be +despising me too." + +"I shall never do that," she said quickly. + +He looked at her again, still with a mocking smile upon his lips. He bore +himself with a certain royal pride that made her feel decidedly small. + +"You will never say that again," he remarked. + +"Why not?" she demanded. + +"Because," he answered, with a drawling sneer, "you are like the rest of +creation. You put breed before everything. Unless a man has what you are +pleased to term pure blood in his veins he is beyond the pale." + +"Whatever are you talking about?" said Dot, frankly mystified. + +He stopped dead and faced her. "I am talking of myself, if you want to +know," he told her very bitterly. "I am beyond the pale, an illegitimate +son, with a strain of Red Indian in my veins to complete my damnation." + +"Good gracious!" said Dot. + +She stared at him for a few seconds mutely, as if the sudden announcement +had taken her breath away. + +At last: "Then--then--Mrs. Errol--" she stammered. + +"Is not my mother," he informed her grimly. "Did you ever seriously think +she was?" He flung back his shoulders arrogantly. "You're almighty blind, +you English." + +Dot continued to contemplate him with her frank eyes, as if viewing for +the first time a specimen of some rarity. + +"Well, I don't see that it makes any difference," she said at length. +"You are you just the same. I--I really don't see quite why you told me." + +"No?" said Nap, staring back at her with eyes that told her nothing. +"P'r'aps I just wanted to show you that you are wasting your solicitude +on an object of no value." + +"How--funny of you!" said Dot. + +She paused a moment, still looking at him; then with a quick, childish +movement she slipped her hand through his arm. Quite suddenly she knew +how to deal with him. + +"You seem to forget," she said with a little smile, "that I'm going to be +your sister one day." + +He stiffened at her action, and for a single moment she wondered if she +could have made a mistake. And then as suddenly he relaxed. He took the +hand that rested on his arm and squeezed it hard. + +And Dot knew that in some fashion, by a means which she scarcely +understood, she had gained a victory. + +They went on together along the mossy, winding path. A fleeting shower +was falling, and the patter of it sounded on the leaves. + +Nap walked with his face turned up to the raindrops, sure-footed, with +the gait of a panther. He did not speak a word to the girl beside him, +but his silence, did not disconcert her. There was even something in it +that reassured her. + +They were approaching the farther end of the wood when he abruptly spoke. + +"So you think it makes no difference?" + +Was there a touch of pathos in the question? She could not have said. +But she answered it swiftly, with all the confidence--and +ignorance--of youth. + +"Of course I do! How could it make a difference? Do you suppose--if it +had been Bertie--I should have cared?" + +"Bertie!" he said. "Bertie is a law-abiding citizen. And you--pardon me +for saying so--are young." + +"Oh, yes, I know," she admitted. "But I've got some sense all the same. +And--and--Nap, may I say something rather straight?" + +The flicker of a smile shone and died in his eyes. "Don't mind me!" he +said. "The role of an evangelist becomes you better than some." + +"Don't!" said Dot, turning very red. + +"I didn't," said Nap. "I'm only being brotherly. Hit as straight as +you like." + +"I was going to say," she said, taking him at his word, "that if a man is +a good sort and does his duty, I don't believe one person in a million +cares a rap about what his parents were. I don't indeed." + +She spoke with great earnestness; it was quite obvious that she meant +every word. It was Dot's straightforward way to speak from her heart. + +"And I'm sure Lady Carfax doesn't either," she added. + +But at that Nap set his teeth. "My child, you don't chance to know Lady +Carfax as I do. Moreover, suppose the man doesn't chance to be a good +sort and loathes the very word 'duty'? It brings down the house of cards +rather fast, eh?" + +An older woman might have been discouraged; experience would probably +have sadly acquiesced. But Dot possessed neither age nor experience, and +so she only lost her patience. + +"Oh, but you are absurd!" she exclaimed, shaking his arm with +characteristic vigour. "How can you be so disgustingly flabby? You're +worse than old Squinny, who sends for Dad or me every other day to see +him die. He's fearfully keen on going to heaven, but that's all he ever +does to get there." + +Nap broke into a brief laugh. They had reached the stile and he faced +round with extended hand. "After that--good-bye!" he said. "With your +permission we'll keep this encounter to ourselves. But you certainly are +a rousing evangelist. When you mount the padre's pulpit I'll come and sit +under it." + +Dot's fingers held fast for a moment. "It'll be all right, will it?" she +asked bluntly. "I mean--you'll be sensible?" + +He smiled at her in a way she did not wholly understand, yet which went +straight to her quick heart. + +"So long, little sister!" he said. "Yes, it will be quite all right. I'll +continue to cumber the ground a little longer, if you call that being +sensible. And if you think my chances of heaven are likely to be improved +by your kind intervention, p'r'aps you'll put up a prayer now and then on +my behalf to the Power that casts out devils--for we are many." + +"I will, Nap, I will!" she said very earnestly. + +When he was gone she mounted the stile and paused with her face to the +sky. "Take care of him, please, God!" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DELIVERANCE + + +Notwithstanding her largeness of heart, Mrs. Errol was something of a +despot, and when once she had assumed command she was slow to +relinquish it. + +"I guess you must let me have my own way, dear Anne," she said, "for I've +never had a daughter." + +And Anne, to whom the burden of life just then was more than ordinarily +heavy, was fain to submit to the kindly tyranny. Mrs. Errol had found her +alone at the inn at Bramhurst on the night of the storm, and in response +to her earnest request had taken her without delay straight back to her +home. Very little had passed between them on the circumstances that had +resulted in this development. Scarcely had Nap's name been mentioned by +either. Mrs. Errol seemed to know him too well to need an explanation. +And Anne had noted this fact with a sick heart. + +It meant to her the confirmation of what had already become a practical +conviction, that the man she had once dreamed that she loved was no +more than a myth of her own imagination. Again and yet again she had +been deceived, but her eyes were open at last finally and for all time. +No devil's craft, however wily, however convincing, could ever close +them again. + +Lying in her darkened room, with her stretched nerves yet quivering at +every sound, she told herself over and over that she knew Nap Errol now +as others knew him, as he knew himself, a man cruel, merciless, +unscrupulous, in whose dark soul no germ of love had ever stirred. + +Why he had ever desired her she could not determine. Possibly her very +faith in him--that faith that he had so rudely shattered--had been the +attraction; possibly only her aloofness, her pride, had kindled in him +the determination to conquer. But that he had ever loved her, as she +interpreted love, she now told herself was an utter impossibility. She +even questioned in the bitterness of her disillusionment if Love, that +True Romance to which she had offered sacrifice, were not also a myth, +the piteous creation of a woman's fond imagination, a thing non-existent +save in the realms of fancy, a dream-goal to which no man might attain +and very few aspire. + +All through the long day she lay alone with her problem, perpetually +turning it in her mind, perpetually asking by what tragic influence she +had ever been brought to fancy that this man with his violent, +unrestrained nature, his fierce egoism, his murderous impulses, had ever +been worthy of the halo her love had fashioned for him. No man was +worthy! No man was worthy! This man least of all! Had not he himself +warned her over and over again, and she had not listened? Perhaps he had +not meant her to listen. Perhaps it had only been another of his devilish +artifices for ensnaring her, that attitude of humility, half-scoffing, +half-persuasive, with which he had masked his inner vileness. + +Oh, she was sick at heart that day, sick with disappointment, sick with +humiliation, sick with a terrible foreboding that gave her no rest. +Slowly the hours dragged away. She had despatched her urgent message to +Lucas immediately upon her arrival at the Manor, and his prompt reply had +in a measure reassured her. But she knew that he was ill, and she could +not drive from her mind the dread that he might fail her. How could he in +his utter physical weakness hope to master the demons that tore Nap +Errol's turbulent soul? And if Lucas failed her, what then? What then? +She had no city of refuge to flee unto. She and her husband were at the +mercy of a murderer. For that he would keep his word she did not for a +moment doubt. Nap Errol was not as other men. No second thoughts would +deter him from his purpose. Unless Lucas by some miracle withheld him, no +other influence would serve. He would wreak his vengeance with no +hesitating hand. The fire of his savagery was an all-consuming flame, +and it was too strongly kindled to be lightly quenched. + +Her thoughts went back to her husband. The date of his return had not +been definitely fixed. The letter had suggested that it should take place +some time in the following week. She had not yet replied to the +suggestion. She put her hand to her head. Actually she had forgotten! +Ought she not to send a message of warning? But in what terms could she +couch it? Lucas might even yet succeed. It might be that even now he was +fighting the desperate battle. + +Inaction became intolerable. She had promised Mrs. Errol that she would +take a long rest, but there was no rest for her. She knew that she would +hear from Lucas the moment he had anything definite to report; but a new +and ghastly fear now assailed her. What if Nap had not returned to +Baronmead? What if he had gone direct to the asylum, there to snatch his +opportunity while his fury was at its height? + +The thought turned her sick. She rose, scarcely knowing what she did, and +moved across the room to her escritoire. The vague idea of penning some +sort of warning was in her mind, but before she reached it the conviction +stabbed her that it would be too late. No warning would be of any avail. +If that had been Nap Errol's intention, by this time the deed was done. +And if that were so, she was in part guilty of her husband's murder. + +Powerless, she sank upon her knees by the open window, striving +painfully, piteously, vainly, to pray. But no words came to her, no +prayer rose from her wrung heart. It was as though she knelt in outer +darkness before a locked door. + +In that hour Anne Carfax went down into that Place of Desolation which +some call hell and some the bitter school of sorrow--that place in which +each soul is alone with its agony and its sin, that place where no light +shines and no voice is heard, where, groping along the edge of +destruction, the wanderer seeks its Maker and finds Him not, where even +the Son of God Himself once lost His faith. + +And in that hour she knew why her love lay wounded unto death, though not +then did she recognise the revelation as a crowning mercy. She saw +herself bruised and abased, humbled beyond belief. She saw her proud +purity brought low, brought down to the very mire which all her life she +had resolutely ignored, from the very though of which she had always +withdrawn herself as from an evil miasma that bred corruption. She saw +herself a sinner, sunk incredibly low, a woman who had worshipped Love +indeed, but at a forbidden shrine, a woman moreover bereft of all things, +who had seen her sacrifice crumble to ashes and had no more to offer. + +Through her mind flashed a single sentence that had often and often set +her wondering: "From him that hath not shall be taken away even that +which he seemeth to have." She knew its meaning now. It scorched her +inmost soul. Such an one was she. No effort had she ever made to possess +her husband's love. No love had she ever offered to him; duty and +submission indeed, but love--never. Her heart had been unwarmed, nor had +she ever sought to kindle within it the faintest spark. She had hated him +always. She knew it now. Or perhaps her feeling for him had been +something too cold for even hatred. If he had made her drink the waters +of bitterness, she had given him in return the icy draught of contempt. + +There had been a time when his passion for her might have turned to love, +but she had let it slide. She had not wanted love. Or else--like so many +fevered souls--she had yearned for the full blossom thereof, neglecting +to nourish the parched seed under her feet. + +She had committed sacrilege. That was why Love had come to her at last +with a flaming sword, devastating her whole life, depriving her of even +that which she had seemed to have. That was why she now knelt impotent +before a locked door. That was why God was angry. + +A long, long time passed. She did not hear the rain pattering upon the +green earth, nor feel the soft breeze on her neck. She had lost touch +with things physical. She was yet groping in outer darkness. + +A hand very softly turned the handle of her door, and a motherly face +looked in. + +"Why, Anne, dear child, I thought you were asleep!" the deep voice +said reproachfully. "I've been listening outside for ages, and you were +so quiet!" + +She raised her head quickly, and in a moment rose. Her eyes were deeply +shadowed, but they bore no trace of tears. + +"I could not sleep," she said. "But you mustn't trouble about me. I am +quite well. I will dress and come down." + +Mrs. Errol came forward, shaking her head disapprovingly. "I have a +note from Lucas," she said. "It arrived a quarter of an hour ago, but +there was no answer, so I thought it would be real wicked to wake you +up to read it." + +Anne stretched out a hand that shook. "Please!" she said almost +inarticulately. + +With the note open in her hand she turned and sat down suddenly as if +incapable of standing. The clumsy, uneven writing danced before her eyes. +One sentence only, but it took her many seconds to read! + +"My brother Nap leaves to-night for Arizona.--Lucas." + +She raised her face with a deep, deep breath. She felt as if she had not +breathed for hours. Silently, after a moment, she held out the brief +message to Mrs. Errol. + +"My!" said the latter. "Well, thank the Lord for that!" + +And then very tenderly she laid her hand upon Anne's shoulder. "My +dearie, would it help you any to speak of him?" + +Anne leaned her weary head against her. "I don't know," she said. + +"I often wanted to warn you," Mrs. Errol said. "But I thought--I +hoped--it was unnecessary. You were always so kind of frank with him that +I thought maybe it would be an impertinence to say anything. It wasn't as +if you were an inexperienced girl. If you had been--but to give him his +due, Nap never tried to trap inexperience. He's got some morals, knave as +he is. Say, Anne dear, you know he is no son of mine?" + +"Yes," whispered Anne, gently drawing her friend's hand round her neck. + +"And I sometimes wonder," Mrs. Errol went on, in her deep sing-song voice +that yet somehow held a note of pathos, "if I did wrong to take him as I +did. He was the quaintest baby, Anne--the cutest morsel you ever saw. His +dying mother brought him to me. She was only a girl herself--a +broken-hearted girl, dying before her time. I couldn't refuse. I felt he +had a sort of claim upon us. Maybe I was wrong. My husband didn't view it +that way, but at that time I hadn't much faith in his judgment. So I took +the boy--his boy--and he was brought up as one of my own. But he was +always unaccountable. He had queer lapses. I tried to be kind to him. I +guess I always was kind. But I surmise that he always suspected me of +resenting his existence. Lucas was the only one who ever had any +influence over him. Latterly I've thought you had some too, but I guess +that was where I went wrong. He and Bertie never got on. P'r'aps it was +my fault. P'r'aps he inherited some of my antagonism. The Lord knows I +tried to suppress it, but somehow it was always there." + +"Dear Mrs. Errol!" Anne murmured softly. "Not one woman in a thousand +would have done as much." + +"Oh, you mustn't say that, dearie. I'm a very poor specimen. I gave him +what advantages I could, but I never loved him. P'r'aps if I had, he'd +have been a better boy. It's only love that counts for anything in God's +sight, and I never gave him any. Lucas did. That's how it is he knows how +to manage him. It isn't personal magnetism or anything of that sort. It's +just love. He can't help answering to that, because it's Divine." + +"Ah!" breathed Anne. "You think him capable of love then?" + +"I guess so, dear. He's raw and undeveloped, but like the rest of +creation he has his possibilities. You've seen him in his better moods +yourself. I always thought he kept his best side for you." + +"I know," Anne said. She leaned slowly back, looking up into the kindly +eyes above her. "But it was only a mask. I see it now. I think there are +many men like that, perhaps all are to a certain extent. They are only +themselves to one another. No woman would ever love a man if she saw him +as he is." + +"My dear! My dear!" Mrs. Errol said. "That's a bitter thing to say. And +it isn't true either. You'll see better by-and-by. Men are contemptible, +I own--the very best of them; but they've all got possibilities, and it's +just our part to draw them out. It's the divine foolishness of women's +love that serves their need, that makes them feel after better things. No +woman ever won a man by despising him. He may be inferior--he is--but he +wants real love to bolster him up. I guess the dear Lord thought of that +when He fashioned women." + +But Anne only smiled, very sadly, and shook her head. It might be true, +but she was in no state to judge. She was blinded by present pain. She +felt she had given her love to the wrong man, and though it had +flourished like a tropical flower in the fiery atmosphere of his passion, +it had been burnt away at last by the very sun that had called it into +being. And she would love in that way no more for ever. There was only +duty left down all the long grey vista of her life. + + + + +PART III + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE POWER DIVINE + + +"Well, if this isn't a pleasure!" + +Thus Lucas Errol, sitting on the terrace on a certain hot afternoon +early in August, greeted Dot, whose multifarious duties did not permit +her to be a very frequent visitor. He smiled at her with that cordiality +which even on his worst days was never absent, but she thought him +looking very ill. + +"Are you sure I shan't tire you too much?" she asked him, as he invited +her to sit down. + +"Quite sure, my dear Dot!" he answered. "It does me good to see people. +Lady Carfax is coming presently. The mother has gone to fetch her. It +will be her last appearance, I am afraid, for the present. She is +expecting her husband home to-morrow. But I'm glad you are here first. I +was just wishing I could see you." + +"Were you really?" said Dot. + +"Yes, really. No, you needn't look at me like that. I'm telling the +truth. I always do, to the best of my ability. Is that chair quite +comfortable? Do you mind if I smoke?" + +"I don't mind anything," Dot said. "And I'm so comfortable that I want to +take off my hat and go to sleep." + +"You may do the first," said Lucas. "But not the second, because I want +to talk, and it's sort of uninteresting not to have an audience, +especially when there is something important to be said." + +"Something important!" echoed Dot. "I hope it's something nice." + +"Oh, quite nice," he assured her. "It's to do with Bertie." He was +smiling in his own peculiarly kindly fashion. "By the way, he's stewing +indoors, studying for that exam, which he isn't going to pass." + +"Not going to pass?" Dot looked up in swift anxiety. "Oh, don't you +think he will?" + +Lucas shook his head. "What's success anyway? I guess the Creator finds +the failures just as useful to Him in the long run." + +"But I don't want him to fail!" she protested. + +"In my opinion," Lucas said slowly, "it doesn't matter a single red cent, +so long as a man does his best. Believe me, it isn't success that counts. +We're apt to think it's everything when we're young. I did myself +once--before I began to realise that I hadn't come to stay." The shrewd +blue eyes smiled at her under their heavy lids. "Now I don't want to +distress you any," he said, "but I'm going to say something that p'r'aps +you'll take to heart though you mustn't let it grieve you. Capper is +coming here next month to perform an operation on me. It may be +successful, and on the other hand--it may not. The uncertainty worries me +some. I'm trying to leave my affairs in good order, but--there are some +things beyond my scope that I'd like unspeakably to see settled before I +take my chances. You can understand that?" + +Dot's hand, warm, throbbing with life, slipped impulsively into his. +"Dear Lucas, of course--of course I understand." + +"Thanks! That's real nice of you. I always knew you were a woman +of sense. I wonder if you can guess what it is I've set my heart +on, eh, Dot?" + +"Tell me," murmured Dot. + +His eyes still rested upon her, but they seemed to be looking at +something beyond. "P'r'aps I'm over fond of regulating other folks' +affairs," he said. "It's a habit that easily grows on the head of a +family. But I've a sort of fancy for seeing you and Bertie married before +I go out. If you tell me it's quite impossible I won't say any more. But +if you could see your way to it--well, it would be a real kindness, and I +needn't say any more than that." + +The weary, rather droning voice ceased to speak. The eyelids drooped more +heavily. It seemed to Dot that a grey shadow lay upon the worn face. He +looked so unutterably tired, so ready for the long, long sleep. + +She sat quite still beside him, turning the matter in her mind. + +After a little he went on speaking, with eyes half-closed. "It would hit +him hard if I went under, but he wouldn't feel so badly if you were +there. The mother too--she wants someone to lean on. There's Lady Carfax, +but she has her own burden. And there'd be a lot for Bertie to see to, +Nap being away. Besides--" + +"Oh, Luke," Dot broke in, her eyes full of tears, "I--I can't imagine +this place without you." + +"No? Well, you mustn't let it distress you any. We've all got to go, +sooner or later. There isn't anything in that. The main thing is to get +it over, when it comes, with as little fuss as possible. Life isn't long +enough for grieving. It's just a mortal waste of time. And what is Death +anyway?" He raised his eyes with what seemed an effort. "You won't blame +me," he said, "for wanting to close up the ranks a bit before I go. Of +course I may live as long as any of you. God knows I shall do my best. I +want to pull through--for several reasons. But if I've got to go, I'd +like to feel I've left things as ship-shape as possible. Bertie will tell +you what provision I desire to make for you. P'r'aps you and he will talk +it over, and if you're willing I'll see the padre about it. But I kind of +felt the first word ought to be with you. Bertie didn't like to speak +because he'd promised to wait. You'll find he's a man of his word. That's +why I've butted in. Say, child, I didn't mean to make you cry. That was +clumsy of me." + +He patted her hand gently, while Dot blinked away her tears. + +"Don't let us talk about it any more now," she besought him. "Oh, +Lucas--I do want you to live, more--more than anything." + +"That's real kind of you," he said. "I'll do my best, you may be sure. +I can hear Lady Carfax talking in the drawing-room. Won't you go and +bring her out?" + +He made no effort to rise when Anne came on to the terrace, but he gave +her so vivid a smile of welcome that she scarcely noted the omission. It +was their first meeting since Nap's departure, for Lucas had been +confined to his bed for days. But that smile of his banished any sense of +embarrassment from her mind. He was so candidly, so unaffectedly, pleased +to see her. + +She sat down in the riotous sunshine and gave herself up unreservedly to +the pleasure of being with her friends. They were all congenial to her. +Mrs. Errol, Dot, Lucas, but most especially Lucas, who occupied a unique +position in her heart and in her thoughts. He had always been so +perfectly her friend in need. + +As the long, sunny afternoon wore away, she found herself watching him +and in silence marvelling. How was it that this man in his utter, +piteous weakness accomplished so much, ruled thus supreme? Wherein lay +that potent charm of his which neither devil nor brute could effectively +resist? Whence came it, this power of the soul, this deliberate and +conscious mastery? + +She watched Bertie waiting on him, hovering about him, ready to spring up +at his lightest word to execute his scarcely-uttered wish. Other +men--even great men--did not command this personal homage, this complete, +incessant devotion. Undoubtedly there was something kingly about him; but +wherein did it lie? Not in the impotent, unwieldy figure, not in the +pleasant, emotionless drawl, not even in the friendly quiet of his eyes, +the kindly sympathy of his smile. In none of these lay his power, and yet +in all of them it was in some fashion apparent. No great force of +personality characterised him, and yet his monarchy was absolute. No +splendour of intellect, no keenness of wit, no smartness of repartee were +his. Only a shrewdness of understanding that was never cruel, a humour +that had no edge. + +And presently Anne remembered that his own mother had given her the key +to the problem, and she doubted not that it solved the whole. "It isn't +personal magnetism," Mrs. Errol had said, "nor anything of that sort. +It's just love." + +That was the magic to which even Nap, the fierce, the passionate, the +treacherous, had been forced to bow. In the midst of his weakness this +man wielded an all-potent power--a power before which they all +instinctively did homage--before which even devils humbled +themselves--because it was Divine. + +That was the secret of his strength. That was the weapon by which he +conquered. She wondered if it had always been so, or if his physical +weakness had tended to develop in him a greatness of heart of which more +active men were quite incapable. It might be true, as Mrs. Errol had +contended, that all men had their possibilities, but, this was the only +man she had ever met who had turned them to account. All unconsciously, +perhaps in response to a reaction which had been necessarily violent, +Anne yielded herself that day for the first time in her life to a species +of hero-worship that could not but beautify her own sad life. + +When later she found herself alone with him, they talked for a space upon +indifferent things, and then they did not talk at all. The intimacy +between them made conversation unnecessary, and Lucas Errol's silence was +as easy as his speech. + +"You'll take care of yourself," he said once, "or I shan't be easy +about you." + +And, when she had promised that: "And you'll look us up as often as +you find you can. P'r'aps if you can't come very often you'll manage +to write." + +But he made no direct reference to her husband's return. His sympathy +neither sought nor needed expression in words. + +Neither did he speak of himself. He only at parting held her hand very +closely for several silent seconds. And Anne went away with a hushed +feeling at her heart as if he had invoked a benediction. + +Back to her home she went, strangely quiet and at peace. She had thought +that visit to Baronmead would have been painful to her. She had expected +to suffer afresh. But it was instead as if a healing hand had been laid +upon her, and as she went she thought no more of Nap, the savage, the +sudden, the terrible; but of Lucas, the gentle, the patient, the +chivalrous, who had won and would for ever keep her perfect trust. + +The light of a golden evening lay upon the Manor as she entered. It was +wonderfully quiet. She went in by the French windows that led into the +drawing-room, and here, tempted by an impulse that had not moved her for +long, she sat down at the piano and began very softly to play. + +She had not touched the keys since her last visit to Baronmead. She +wondered, as idly she suffered her fingers to wander, how long it would +be before she played again. + +Yet it was hard to believe, sitting there in the quiet evening light, +that the next day would witness her return to bondage, that bondage that +had so cruelly galled her, the very thought of which had at one time +filled her with repulsion. But her feelings had undergone a change of +late. She could not feel that the old burden would ever return upon her. +She had been emancipated too long. Her womanhood had developed too much +during those months of liberty. No, it could never be the same. Patient +and faithful wife she would still be. She was ready to devote herself +ungrudgingly, without reservation, to her invalid husband. But his slave +she would never be again. She had overcome her repugnance; she was +willing to serve. But never again would he compel. The days of his +tyranny were for ever gone. + +It was no easy path that lay before her, but she had not forgotten how +narrowly she had escaped the precipice. Even yet she still trembled when +she remembered the all-engulfing pit of destruction that had opened +before her, and the anguish of fear that had possessed her until +deliverance had come. Lucas Errol had been her deliverer. She remembered +that also, and a faint, sad smile touched her lips--Lucas Errol, king +and cripple, ruler and weakling. + +Softly the sunset faded. Anne's fingers ceased to roam over the keys. She +clasped them in her lap and sat still. + +All at once a quiet voice spoke. "My lady!" + +With a start she turned. "Dimsdale! How you startled me!" + +"I beg your ladyship's pardon," the old man said. + +He was standing close behind her. There was an air of subdued importance +about him. He was grave to severity. + +But Anne did not look at him very critically. "I shall not want any +tea," she said. "I will dine at eight in my sitting-room as usual. Is +everything in readiness, Dimsdale? Is Sir Giles's room just as it +should be?" + +"Yes, my lady." + +Anne rose and quietly closed the piano. She wondered why Dimsdale +lingered, and after a moment it struck her that he had something to say. +She took up her gloves and turned round to him. + +"No one has been, I suppose?" + +"No one, my lady." + +"Are there any letters?" + +"No letters, my lady." + +"Then--" Anne paused, and for the first time looked at the old servant +attentively. "Is anything the matter, Dimsdale?" she asked. + +He hesitated, the fingers of one hand working a little, an unusual sign +of agitation with him. + +With an effort at last he spoke. "Your ladyship instructed me to open any +telegram that might arrive." + +Her heart gave a great throb of foreboding. "Certainly," she said. "Has +there been a telegram then?" + +Dimsdale's hand clenched. He looked at her anxiously, rather piteously. + +"My lady--" he said, and stopped. + +Anne stood like a statue. She felt as if her vitality were suddenly +arrested, as if every pulse had ceased to beat. + +"Please go on," she said in a whisper. "There has been a telegram. Either +give it to me, or--tell me what was in it." + +Dimsdale made a jerky movement, as if pulling himself together. He put an +unsteady hand into his breast-pocket. "It came this afternoon, my lady, +about an hour ago. I am afraid it's bad news--very bad news. Yes, my +lady, I'm telling you, I'm telling you. I regret to say Sir Giles has +been took worse, took very sudden like, and--and--" + +"He is dead," Anne said very clearly, very steadily, in a tone that was +neither of question nor of exclamation. + +Dimsdale bent his head. "He died at half-past three, my lady." + +He had the telegram in his hand. Anne took it from him and moved very +quietly to the window. + +Mutely the old man stood and watched her in the silence, thankful for her +composure. He was himself severely shaken, and the ordeal of telling her +had been no light one. + +But as the silence still continued he began to grow uneasy again. He +wondered if he ought to go, if she had forgotten to dismiss him. Her +stately head was bent over the paper, which never crackled or stirred in +her hand. There began to be something terrible, something fateful, in +her passivity. Old Dimsdale shivered, and took the liberty of breaking +the silence. + +"Would your ladyship wish a message to be sent to Baronmead?" + +She stirred at that, moved sharply as one suddenly awakened. Her face was +quite white, but her eyes were alight, curiously vital, with a glitter +that was almost of horror. + +"To Baronmead!" she said, a queer note of sharpness in her voice. "No, +certainly not, most certainly not!" + +And there she stopped, stopped dead as though struck dumb. In the garden +behind her, down among the lilac trees, a bird had begun to sing, +eagerly, voluptuously, thrillingly, with a rapture as of the full +spring-tide of life. + +Anne stood for a space of many seconds and listened, her white face +upraised, her eyes wide and shining. + +And then suddenly her attitude changed. She put her hands over her face +and tottered blindly from the open window. + +Dimsdale started to support her, but she needed no support. In a +moment she was looking at him again, but with eyes from which all +light had faded. + +"I must write some messages at once," she said. "One of the grooms must +take them. No, I shall not send to Mrs. Errol to-night. I wish to be +alone--quite alone. Please admit no one. And--yes--tell them to pull down +the blinds, and--shut all the windows!" + +Her voice quivered and sank. She stood a moment, collecting herself, +then walked quietly to the door. + +"Come to me in ten minutes for those telegrams," she said. "And after +that, remember, Dimsdale, I am not to be disturbed by anyone." + +And with that she passed out, erect and calm, and went up to her room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WORKER OF MIRACLES + + +"I want to know!" said Capper. + +He had said it several times during a muddy two-mile tramp from Baronford +Station, and he said it again as he turned up the hill that was crowned +by the old grey church, whose two cracked bells had just burst into as +cheerful a marriage peal as they could compass. + +"Sounds frisky!" he commented to himself, as he trudged up the steep +lane. "My! What an all-fired fuss! Guess these muddy boots aren't exactly +wedding-guesty. But that's their lookout for monopolising every vehicle +in the place. I wonder if I'll have the audacity to show after all. Or +shall I carry this almighty thirst of mine back to the Carfax Arms and +quench it in British ale?" + +But this latter idea did not apparently greatly lure him, for he +continued to plod upwards, even while considering it, to the tune of the +clamouring bells. + +Arriving finally at the top of the hill and finding there a crowd of +vehicles of all descriptions, he paused to breathe and to search for the +Baronmead motors. + +He found them eventually, but there was no one in attendance. The +servants were all herded in the churchyard for a view of the bridal +procession, for which a passage across the road to the Rectory grounds +was being kept. + +Capper stationed himself, with another rueful glance as his boots, as +near as he could get to the open lych-gate, and there stood grimly +conspicuous, watching the scene with his alert green eyes, that held the +glint of a tolerant smile, and cracking his thin, yellow fingers one by +one. No one gave him a second glance, or dreamed for an instant that one +of the greatest men in the Western Hemisphere was standing on the edge of +the crowd. + +They came at last--bride and bridegroom--flushed and hastening through a +shower of rose petals. + +Bertie was laughing all over his brown face. He was holding Dot's hand +very fast, and as they descended the red-carpeted steps into the road he +leaned to her, whispering. She laughed back at him with shining eyes, her +round face radiant beneath the orange blossom. Neither of them glanced to +right or left. Swiftly through the fallen rose leaves they crossed to the +Rectory gateway and were lost to view. + +A bevy of bridesmaids ran laughing after them, and then came a pause. + +Capper edged a little nearer to the churchyard steps and waited. The +clamour of bells was incessant, wholly drowning the clamour of voices. +Everyone was craning forward to see the crowd of guests. The long +procession had already begun to issue from the church porch. It moved +very slowly, for at the head of it, his hand on his mother's arm, came +Lucas Errol. + +He walked with extreme difficulty, leaning on a crutch. His head was +uncovered, and the glare of the September sunlight smote full upon it. +The hair was turning very grey. + +He was smiling as he came, but his brows were slightly drawn, his eyes +sunk in deep hollows. + +Swiftly and comprehensively the man at the foot of the steps scanned +every detail, marked the halting, painful progress, the lined forehead. +And the next moment, as Lucas paused, preparatory to descending, he +pushed forward with characteristic decision of movement and moved upwards +to his side. + +"I guess you'll find me useful at this juncture," he said. + +Lucas's start of surprise was instantly followed by a smile of welcome. +He gripped Capper's hand warmly. + +"The very man I want! But how in wonder did you get here? You never +walked all the way from the station?" + +"I did," said Capper. + +"You don't say! Why didn't you let me know? I guess we must move on. We +are blocking the gangway." + +"Easy does it," said Capper. "It won't hurt 'em any to wait. Get +your arm over my shoulder. That's the way. These steps are the very +devil for you." + +He bent his wiry frame to Lucas Errol's need, and helped him to descend. +At the foot he paused a moment and looked at him keenly. + +"All serene," smiled Lucas. "I'll take your arm now, if it's all the +same to the mother. You didn't expect to find us plunged in wedding +gaieties, I guess." + +"Wish it had been your own," said Capper. + +At which Lucas turned up his face to the sky and laughed. + +They crossed the flag-decked garden and entered by the conservatory door. +People were beginning to crowd about them. + +"We must find you a seat somehow," said Capper. + +"I must have a word with the bride and bridegroom first," Lucas declared. + +But the bride and bridegroom were for the moment inaccessible, being +completely surrounded by well-wishers. + +Capper seized upon the first chair he came upon and put Lucas into it. + +"I seem to have come in the nick of time," he observed drily. "Why is no +one detailed to look after you? Where is that tiger's whelp Nap?" + +"Nap's in America, been gone two months or more." + +"That so?" There was keen satisfaction in Capper's tone. "That clears the +ground for action. And Lady Carfax? Is she here?" + +"No." There was a hint of reserve in the quiet reply. "Lady Carfax is in +deep mourning for her husband." + +"That so?" said Capper again. He seemed to take but casual note of the +information. He was pulling absently at his pointed yellow beard. + +Lucas lay back in his chair and suffered himself to relax with a sigh. +Capper's eyes darted lizard-like over him, taking in every line of him, +keenly alive to each detail. + +"If I were you I should shunt as soon as possible," he said. "Since it +isn't your own show unfortunately, I should imagine you are not +indispensable." + +But at this point the throng parted, and Dot, looking very young in her +bridal white, and supremely happy, burst eagerly through, + +"Oh, here you are!" she cried. "Your mother said you were close by, but I +couldn't see you anywhere. It's been too much for you. You're tired." + +She bent over him in quick solicitude, then, as he smiled and drew her +down to him, stooped and kissed him, whispering a few words for his +ear alone. + +Bertie was close behind her, but he had caught sight of Capper and had +stopped short with a queer expression on his boyish face, a look that was +a curious blend of consternation and relief. + +A moment and he stepped up to the great doctor and took him by the elbow. +"You here already!" he said. "I didn't expect you so soon." + +"I have only run down to have a look at things," said Capper. "I seem to +have pitched on a busy day. I hope you are enjoying yourself." + +"Thanks!" said Bertie, with a brief laugh. "Say, Doctor, you'll let me +know your plans?" + +"Certainly--when they are ripe." The green eyes gleamed humorously. +"Aren't you thinking of introducing me to Mrs. Bertie?" he suggested. + +"Yes, yes, of course. But you won't do anything without me?" urged +Bertie. "I should greatly like a talk with you, but I'm afraid it can't +be managed." + +"I mightily doubt if you could tell me anything that I don't know +already," said Capper, "on any subject." + +"It's about Luke," said Bertie anxiously. + +"Just so. Well, I guess I know more about Luke than any other person on +this merry little planet." + +"Do you think he looks worse?" whispered Bertie. + +Capper's long, yellow hand fastened very unobtrusively and very forcibly +upon his shoulder. "One thing at a time, good Bertie!" he said. "Weren't +you going to present me to--your wife?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WOMAN'S PART + + +It was on a day of wild autumnal weather, when the wind moaned like a +living thing in torture about the house, and the leaves eddied and +drifted before the scudding rain, that they turned Tawny Hudson out of +his master's room, and left him crouched and whimpering like a dog +against the locked door. Save for his master's express command, no power +on earth would have driven him away, not even Capper of the curt speech +and magnetic will. But the master had spoken very definitely and +distinctly, and it was Tawny Hudson's to obey. Therefore he huddled on +the mat, rocking to and fro, shivering like some monstrous animal in +pain, while within the room Capper wrought his miracles. + +Downstairs Mrs. Errol sat holding Anne's hand very tightly, and talking +incessantly lest her ears should be constrained to listen. And Anne, pale +and still, answered her as a woman talking in her sleep. + +Bertie and his young bride were still absent on their honeymoon; this +also by Lucas's express desire. + +"It won't help me any to have you here, boy," he had said at parting. "A +certain fuss is inevitable, but I want you out of it. I am looking to +Anne Carfax to help the dear mother." + +He had known even then that he would not look in vain, and he had not +been disappointed. So, sorely against his will, Bertie had submitted, +with the proviso that if things went wrong he should be sent for +immediately. + +And thus Anne Carfax, who had lived in almost unbroken seclusion since +her husband's death, now sat with Mrs. Errol's hand clasped in hers, and +listened, as one listens in a nightmare, to the wailing of the wind about +the garden and house, and the beat, beat, beat of her heart when the wind +was still. + +"Could you say a prayer, dear?" Mrs. Errol asked her once. + +And she knelt and prayed, scarcely knowing what she said, but with a +passion of earnestness that left her weak, quivering in every limb. + +The wind was rising. It roared in the trees and howled against the panes. +Sometimes a wild gust of rain lashed the windows. It made her think of an +unquiet spirit clamouring for admittance. + +"Anne dear, play to me, play to me!" besought Mrs. Errol. "If I listen I +shall go mad! No one will hear you. We are right away from his part of +the house." + +And though every nerve shrank at the bare suggestion, Anne rose without +a single protest and went to the piano. She sat down before it, and +blindly, her eyes wide, fixed, unseeing, she began to play. + +What she played she knew not. Her fingers found notes, chords, melodies +mechanically. + +Once she paused, but, "Ah, go on, dear child! Go on!" urged Mrs. Errol. +And she went on, feeling vaguely through the maze of suspense that +surrounded them, longing inarticulately to cease all effort, but spurred +onward because she knew she must not fail. + +And gradually as she played there came to her a curious sense of duality, +of something happening that had happened before, of a record repeating +itself. She turned her head, almost expecting to hear a voice speak +softly behind her, almost expecting to hear a mocking echo of the words +unspoken. "Has the Queen no further use for her jester?" No further use! +No further use! Oh, why was she tortured thus? Why, when her whole soul +yearned to forget, was she thus compelled to remember the man whose +brutal passion and insatiable thirst for vengeance had caught and crushed +her heart? + +And still she played on as one beneath a spell, while the memory of him +forced the gates of her consciousness and took arrogant possession. She +saw again the swarthy face with its fierce eyes, the haughty smile, which +for her was ever tinged with tenderness. Surely--oh, surely he had loved +her once! She recalled his fiery love-making, and thrilled again to the +eager insistence of his voice, the mastery of his touch. And then she +remembered what they said of him, that women were his slaves, his +playthings, the toys he broke in wantonness and carelessly tossed aside. +She remembered how once in his actual presence she had overheard words +that had made her shrink, a wonder as to who was his latest conquest, the +cynical remark: "Anyone for a change and no one for long is his motto." +What was he doing now, she asked herself, and trembled. He had gone +without word or message of any sort. Her last glimpse of him had been in +that violet glare of lightning, inexpressibly terrible, with tigerish +eyes that threatened her and snarling lips drawn back. Thus--thus had she +seen him many a time since in the long night-watches when she had lain +sleepless and restless, waiting for the dawn. + +Some such vision came to her now, forcing itself upon her shrinking +imagination. Vividly there rose before her his harsh face alert, cruel, +cynical, and the sinewy hands that gripped and crushed. And suddenly a +shuddering sense of nausea overcame her. She left the piano as one +seeking refuge from a horror unutterable. Surely this man had never loved +her--was incapable of love! And she had almost wished him back! + +"There is someone in the entry, dear child," whispered Mrs. Errol. "Go +and see--go and see!" + +She went, moving as one stricken blind. But before she reached the door +it opened and someone entered. She saw Capper as through a mist in which +bodily weakness and anguished fear combined to overwhelm her. And then +very steadily his arm encircled her, drew her tottering to a chair. + +"It's all right," he said in his expressionless drawl. "The patient has +regained consciousness, and is doing O.K. Are you ladies thinking of +lunch? Because if so, I guess I'll join you. No, Mrs. Errol, you can't +see him before to-night at the earliest. Lady Carfax, I have a message +for you--the first words he spoke when he came to. He was hardly +conscious when he uttered them, but I guess you'll be kind of interested +to hear what they were. 'Tell Anne,' he said, 'I'm going to get well.'" + +The intense deliberation with which he spoke gave her time to collect +herself, but the words affected her oddly. After a moment she rose, went +to Mrs. Errol, who had covered her face with both hands while he was +speaking, and knelt beside her. Neither of them uttered a sound. + +Capper strolled to the window, his hands deep in his pockets, and looked +out upon the wind-swept gardens. He whistled very softly to himself, as a +man well satisfied. + +He did not turn his head till at the end of five minutes Anne came to his +side. She was very pale but quite self-possessed. + +"Mrs. Errol has gone to her room," she said. "She wished to be alone." + +"Gone to have a good cry, eh?" said Capper. "Healthiest thing she could +do. And what about you?" + +She smiled with lips that faintly quivered. "I am quite all right, +Doctor. And--I have ordered luncheon." + +He turned fully round and looked her up and down with lightning +swiftness. "You're a very remarkable woman, Lady Carfax," he said +after a moment. + +"I hope you may never be disappointed in me," she answered gravely. + +"I hope so too," he said, "for there is a good deal dependent upon you." + +"What do you mean?" She raised her clear eyes interrogatively. + +But he baffled her, as he baffled everyone, with the very keenness of his +own scrutiny. He began to crack all his fingers in turn. + +"I mean," he said, "that even I can't work miracles by myself. I can do +the elementary part. I can cut and saw and sew, but I can't heal. I can't +give life. That's the woman's part. That's where I count on you. And I +don't think you are going to fail me, Lady Carfax." + +"I promise you I will do my utmost," she said very earnestly. + +He nodded. "I believe you will. But even so, you can't do too much. It's +a serious case, even more serious than I expected. I don't say this to +alarm you, but I guess you had better know it. It'll be a tough, uphill +fight, and he'll need a deal of pushing behind. It may entail more than +you dream of--a big sacrifice perhaps; who knows? But you women don't shy +at sacrifices. And, believe me, he's worth a sacrifice." + +"He deserves the best," she said warmly. + +"Yes, but you don't take me," said Capper. + +He paused a moment, then suddenly laid a quiet hand on her shoulder. "I +may be a wise man," he said, "and again I may be a meddling fool. You and +the gods must decide between you. But I'm old enough to be your father +anyway. So p'r'aps you'll bear with me. Lady Carfax, hasn't it struck you +that a time will come--probably pretty soon--when he will begin to reach +out for something that you--and you alone--can give?" + +Anne's quick gesture of protest was his answer. She stood motionless, her +eyes still raised, waiting for him to continue. But he felt her tremble +under his hand. He knew that inwardly she was not so calm as she would +have had him think. + +He went on in his precise, emotionless fashion, as though he perceived +nothing. "He won't ask for it--anyway till he feels he can make a fair +return. He will never ask a sacrifice of you. He will break his heart +sooner. The point is, Are you capable of offering the sacrifice unasked? +For that is what it amounts to, now that the gods have cleared the way." + +"Ah!" Anne said. "And--if--not?" + +She spoke rather as if to gain time than because she desired an answer. + +But he answered her nevertheless very quietly, without a shade of +emotion, as if he were discussing some technical matter of no personal +interest to him. Only as he answered he took his hand from her shoulder +and thrust it back into his pocket. + +"In that case he will die, having nothing left to live for. He probably +won't suffer much, simply go out like a candle. He hasn't much vitality. +He may die either way. There is no responsibility attached--only +possibilities." + +He turned with the words, and walked across the room with the air of a +man who has said his say. + +She uttered no word to stop him, nor did she move to follow. She stood +alone with her face to the grey storm-clouds that drifted perpetually +overhead. Somehow she did not for a moment doubt the truth of what +Capper had just told her. She even felt sub-consciously that she had +known it for some time. Neither did she ask herself what she was going +to do. For deep in the heart of her she knew already. Deep in the heart +of her she knew that when Lucas Errol began to reach out for something +which she alone could give, it would not be in vain. He had given of his +best to her, and she was ready to give of her best in return. If she +could not give him passion, she could give him that which was +infinitely greater--a deep, abiding love, a devotion born of complete +sympathy. She could give him happiness, and in the giving she might find +it for herself. + +Over in the west the clouds were breaking, and a shaft of pale sunshine +streamed upon the distant hills, turning the woods to living gold. Her +eyes brightened a little as they caught the radiance. It seemed as if the +door before which she had knelt so long in impotence were opening to her +at last, as if one more opportunity were to be given her even yet after +long and bitter failure of turning her corner of the desert into a garden +of flowers and singing birds. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE MESSAGE + + +It was nearly a month after Lucas Errol's operation that Bertie and his +bride came home from their honeymoon and began the congenial task of +setting their house in order. + +Dot was thoroughly in her element. The minutest details were to her +matters of vital importance. + +"We must make it comfy," she said to Bertie, and Bertie fully agreed. + +He had relinquished his study of the law, and had resumed his secretarial +duties, well aware that Lucas could ill spare him. He was in fact Lucas's +right hand just then, and the burden that devolved upon him was no light +one. But he bore it with a cheerful spirit, for Lucas was making +progress. Despite his utter helplessness, despite the inevitable +confinement to one room, despite the weariness and the irksomeness which +day by day were his portion, Lucas was very gradually gaining ground. +Already he suffered less severely and slept more naturally. + +His last words to Capper at parting had been, "Come again in the spring +and complete the cure. I shall be ready for you." + +And Capper had smiled upon him with something approaching geniality and +had answered, "You'll do it, and so shall I. So long then!" + +But the months that intervened were the chief stumbling-block, and Capper +knew it. He knew that his patient would have to face difficulties and +drawbacks that might well dismay the bravest. He knew of the reaction +that must surely come when the vitality was low, and progress became +imperceptible, and the long imprisonment almost unendurable. He knew of +the fever that would lurk in the quickening blood, of the torturing cramp +that would draw the unused muscles, of the depression that was its mental +counterpart, of the black despair that would hang like a paralysing +weight upon soul and body, of the _ennui_, of the weariness of life, of +the piteous weakness that nothing could alleviate. + +He had to a certain extent warned Lucas what to expect; but the time for +these things had not yet arrived. He was hardly yet past the first stage, +and his courage was buoyed up by high hopes as yet undashed. He had faced +worse things without blenching, and he had not begun to feel the monotony +that Capper had dreaded as his worst enemy. + +He took a keen interest in the doings of the young couple at the Dower +House, and Dot's breezy presence was ever welcome. + +As for Anne, she went to and fro between Baronmead and the Manor, of +which her husband's will had left her sole mistress, no longer leading a +hermit's life, no longer clinging to her solitude, grave and quiet, but +not wholly unhappy. Those few words Capper had spoken on the day of +Lucas's operation had made a marvellous difference to her outlook. They +had made it possible for her to break down the prison-walls that +surrounded her. They had given her strength to leave the past behind her, +all vain regrets and cruel disillusionments, to put away despair and rise +above depression. They had given her courage to go on. + +Of Nap no word was ever spoken in her presence. He might have been dead, +so completely had he dropped out of her life. In fact, he was scarcely +ever mentioned by anyone, a fact which aroused in Dot a curiously keen +indignation, but upon which a certain shyness kept her from commenting. +She kept him faithfully in mind, praying for him as regularly as she +prayed for old Squinny, who still lingered on with exasperating tenacity, +and continued to enjoy such help, spiritual or otherwise, as he could +extract from the parson's daughter. + +That Bertie strongly disapproved of his brother she was aware, but she +held no very high opinion of Bertie's judgment, though even he could +scarcely have forbidden her to pray for the black sheep of the family. +She had not been brought up to rely upon anyone's judgment but her own, +and, deeply as she loved him, she could not help regarding her husband +as headlong and inclined to prejudice. He was young, she reflected, and +doubtless these small defects would disappear as he grew older. True, he +was nearly four years her senior; but Dot did not regard years as in any +degree a measure of age. It was all a question of development, she would +say, and some people--women especially--developed much more quickly than +others. She herself, for instance--At which stage of the argument Bertie +invariably said or did something rude, and the rest of her logic became +somewhat confused. He was a dear boy and she couldn't possibly be cross +with him, but somehow he never seemed to realise when she was in earnest. +Another of the deficiencies of youth! + +Meanwhile she occupied herself in her new home with all the zest of the +young housewife, returned calls with commendable punctuality, and settled +down once more to the many parochial duties which had been her +ever-increasing responsibility for almost as long as she could remember. + +"You are not going to slave like this always," Bertie said to her one +evening, when she came in late through a November drizzle to find him +waiting for her. + +"I must do what I've got to do," said Dot practically, suffering him to +remove her wet coat. + +"All very well," said Bertie, whose chin looked somewhat more square than +usual. "But I'm not going to have my wife wearing herself out over what +after all is not her business." + +"My dear boy!" Dot laughed aloud, twining her arm in his. "I think you +forget, don't you, that I was the rector's daughter before I was your +wife? I must do these things. There is no one else to do them." + +"Skittles!" said Bertie rudely. + +"Yes, dear, but that's no argument. Let's go and have tea, and for +goodness' sake don't frown at me like that. It's positively appalling. +Put your chin in and be good." + +She passed her hand over her husband's face and laughed up at him +merrily. But Bertie remained grave. + +"You're wet through and as cold as ice. Come to the fire and let's get +off your boots." + +She went with him into the drawing-room, where tea awaited them. + +"I'm not wet through," she declared, "and I'm not going to let you take +off my boots. You may, if you are very anxious, give me some tea." + +Bertie pulled up a chair to the fire and put her into it; then turned +aside and began to make the tea. + +Dot lay back with her feet in the fender and watched him. She was looking +very tired, and now that the smile had faded from her face this was the +more apparent. + +When he brought her her tea she reached up, caught his hand, and held it +for a moment against her cheek. + +"One's own fireside is so much nicer than anyone else's," she said. +"We'll have a nice cosy talk presently. How is Luke to-day?" + +"Not quite so flourishing. A brute of a dog howled in the night and woke +him up. He didn't get his proper sleep afterwards." + +"Poor old Luke! What a shame!" + +"Yes, it made a difference. He has been having neuralgia down his spine +nearly all day. I believe he's worrying too. I'm going back after dinner +to see if I can do anything. I manage to read him to sleep sometimes, +you know." + +"Shall I come too?" said Dot. + +"No." Bertie spoke with decision. "You had better go to bed yourself." + +She made a face at him. "I shall do nothing of the sort. I shall sit up +and do the Clothing Club accounts." + +Bertie frowned abruptly. "Not to-night, Dot." + +"Yes, to-night. They have got to be done, and I can think better +at night." + +"You are not to do them to-night," Bertie said, with determination. "I +will do them myself if they must be done." + +"My dear boy, you! You would never understand my book-keeping. Just +imagine the muddle you would make! No, I must get through them myself, +and since I must spend the time somehow till you come home, why shouldn't +I do them to-night?" + +"Because I forbid it," said Bertie unexpectedly. + +He was standing on the rug, cup in hand. He looked straight down at her +with the words, meeting her surprised eyes with most unwonted sternness. + +Dot raised her eyebrows as high as they would go, kept them so for +several seconds, then very deliberately lowered them and began to +stir her tea. + +"You understand me, don't you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "Not in the least. I don't think I have ever met you +before, have I?" + +He set his cup upon the mantelpiece and went suddenly down on his knees +by her side. "I haven't been taking proper care of you," he said. "But +I'm going to begin right now. Do you know when you came in just now you +gave me an absolute shock?" + +She laughed faintly, her eyes fixed upon her cup "I didn't know I was +looking such a fright." + +"You can never look anything but sweet to me," he said. "But it's a fact +you're not looking well. I'm sure you are doing too much." + +"I'm not doing any more than usual," said Dot, still intent upon the +drain of tea in her cup. + +"Well, it's too much for you anyway, and I'm going to put a stop to it." + +"Do you know how to read your fortune in tea leaves?" said Dot. + +"No," said Bertie. With a very gentle hand he deprived her of this +engrossing pastime. "I want you to attend to me for a minute," he said. + +Dot snuggled against him with a very winning gesture. "I don't want to, +Bertie, unless you can find something more interesting to talk about. +Really, there is nothing wrong with me. Tell me about Luke. Why is he +worrying?" + +Bertie frowned. "He doesn't say so, but I believe he's bothered about +Nap. Heaven knows why he should be. He was supposed to go to Arizona, but +he didn't turn up there. As a matter of fact, if he never turned up again +anywhere it would be about the best thing that could possibly happen." + +"Oh, don't, Bertie!" Dot spoke sharply, almost involuntarily. There was a +quick note of pain in her voice. "I don't like you to talk like that. It +isn't nice of you to be glad he's gone, and--it's downright horrid to +want him to stay away for ever." + +"Good heavens!" said Bertie. + +He was plainly amazed, and she resented his amazement, feeling that in +some fashion it placed her in a false position from which she was +powerless to extricate herself. The last thing she desired was to take up +the cudgels on Nap's behalf, nevertheless she prepared herself to do so +as in duty bound. For Nap was a friend, and Dot's loyalty to her friends +was very stanch. + +"I mean it," she said, sitting up and facing him. "I don't think it's +right of you, and it certainly isn't kind. He doesn't deserve to be +treated as an outcast. He isn't such a bad sort after all. There is a +whole lot of good in him, whatever people may say. You at least ought +to know him better. Anyhow, he is a friend of mine, and I won't hear +him abused." + +Bertie's face changed while she was speaking, grew stern, grew almost +implacable. + +"Look here," he said plainly, "if you want to know what Nap is, he's a +damned blackguard, not fit for you to speak to. So, if you've no +objection, we'll shunt him for good and all!" + +It was Dot's turn to look amazed. She opened her eyes to their widest +extent. "What has he done?" + +"Never mind!" said Bertie. + +"But I do mind!" Swiftly indignation swamped her surprise. "Why should I +shunt him, as you call it, for no reason at all? I tell you frankly, +Bertie, I simply won't!" + +Her eyes were very bright as she ended. She sat bolt upright obviously +girded for battle. + +Bertie also looked on the verge of an explosion, but with a grim effort +he restrained himself. "I have told you he is unworthy of your +friendship," he said. "Let that be enough." + +"That's not enough," said Dot. "I think otherwise." + +He bit his lip. "Well, if you must have it--so did Lady Carfax till she +found out her mistake." + +"Lady Carfax!" Dot's face changed. "What about Lady Carfax?" + +"She gave him her friendship," Bertie told her grimly, "and he rewarded +her with about as foul a trick as any man could conceive. You heard the +story of the motor breaking down that day in the summer when he took her +for a ride? It was nothing but an infernal trick. He wanted to get her +for himself, and it wasn't his fault that he failed. It was in +consequence of that that Lucas sent him away." + +"Oh!" said Dot. "He was in love with her then!" + +"If you call it love," said Bertie. "He is always in love with someone." + +Dot's eyes expressed enlightenment. She seemed to have forgotten their +difference of opinion. "So that was why he was so cut up," she said. "Of +course--of course! I was a donkey not to think of it. What a mercy Sir +Giles is dead! Has anyone written to tell him?" + +"No," said Bertie shortly. + +"But why not? Surely he has a right to know? Lady Carfax herself +might wish it." + +"Lady Carfax would be thankful to forget his very existence," said +Bertie, with conviction. + +"My dear boy, how can you possibly tell? Are you one of those misguided +male creatures who profess to understand women?" + +"I know that Lady Carfax loathes the very thought of him," Bertie +maintained. "She is not a woman to forgive and forget very easily. +Moreover, as I told you before, no one knows where he is." + +"I see," said Dot thoughtfully. "But surely he has a club somewhere?" + +"Yes, he belongs to the Phoenix Club, New York, if they haven't kicked +him out. But what of that? I'm not going to write to him. I don't want +him back, Heaven knows." There was a fighting note in Bertie's voice. He +spoke as if prepared to resist to the uttermost any sudden attack upon +his resolution. + +But Dot attempted none; she abandoned the argument quite suddenly, and +nestled against his breast. "Darling, don't let's talk about it any +more! It's a subject upon which we can't agree. And I'm sorry I've been +so horrid to you. I know it isn't my fault that we haven't +quarrelled. Forgive me, dear, and keep on loving me. You do love me, +don't you, Bertie?" + +"Sweetheart!" he whispered, holding her closely. + +She uttered a little muffled laugh. "That's my own boy! And I'm going to +be so good, you'll hardly know me. I won't go out in the rain, and I +won't do the Clothing Club accounts, and I won't overwork. And--and--I +won't be cross, even if I do look and feel hideous. I'm going to be a +perfect saint, Bertie." + +"Sweetheart!" he said again. + +She turned her face up against his neck. "Shall I tell you why?" she +said, clinging to him with hands that trembled. "It's because if I let +myself get cross-grained and ugly now, p'r'aps someone else--some +day--will be cross-grained and ugly too. And I should never forgive +myself for that. I should always feel it was my fault. Fancy if it turned +out a shrew like me, Bertie! Wouldn't--wouldn't it be dreadful?" + +She was half-laughing, half-crying, as she whispered the words. Bertie's +arms held her so closely that she almost gasped for breath. + +"My precious girl!" he said. "My own precious wife! Is it so? You know, I +wondered." + +She turned her lips quickly to his. There were tears on her cheeks though +she was laughing. + +"How bright of you, Bertie! You--you always get there sooner or later, +don't you? And you're not cross with me any more? You don't think me very +unreasonable about Nap?" + +"Oh, damn Nap!" said Bertie, for the second time, with fervour. + +"Poor Nap!" said Dot gently. + +That evening, when Bertie was at Baronmead, she scribbled a single +sentence on a sheet of paper, thrust it into an envelope and directed it +to the Phoenix Club, New York. + +This done, she despatched a servant to the postoffice with it and sat +down before the fire. + +"I expect it was wrong of me," she said. "But somehow I can't help +feeling he ought to know. Anyway"--Dot's English was becoming lightly +powdered with Americanisms, which possessed a very decided charm on her +lips--"anyway, it's done, and I won't think any more about it. It's the +very last wrong thing I'll do for--ever so long." Her eyes grew soft as +she uttered this praiseworthy resolution. She gazed down into the fire +with a little smile, and gave herself up to dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND + + +"O God, give me rest!" + +Painfully the words came through quivering lips, the first they had +uttered for hours. Lucas Errol lay, as he had lain for nearly three +months, with his face to the ceiling, his body stretched straight and +rigid, ever in the same position, utterly helpless and weary unto death. + +Day after day he lay there, never stirring save when they made him bend +his knees, an exercise upon which the doctor daily insisted, but which +was agony to him. Night after night, sleepless, he waited the coming of +the day. His general health varied but little, but his weakness was +telling upon him. His endurance still held, but it was wearing thin. His +old cheeriness was gone, though he summoned it back now and again with +piteous, spasmodic effort. Hope and despair were fighting together in his +soul, and at that time despair was uppermost. He had set out with a brave +heart, but the goal was still far off, and he was beginning to falter. He +had ceased to make any progress, and the sheer monotony of existence was +wearing him out. The keen, shrewd eyes were dull and listless. At the +opening of the door he did not even turn his head. + +And yet it was Anne who entered, Anne with the flush of exercise on her +sweet face, her hands full of Russian violets. + +"See how busy I have been!" she said. "I am not disturbing you? You +weren't asleep?" + +"I never sleep," he answered, and he did not look at her or the violets; +he kept his eyes upon the ceiling. + +She came and sat beside him. "I gathered them all myself," she said. +"Don't you want to smell them?" + +He moved his lips without replying, and she leaned down, her eyes full of +the utmost compassionate tenderness and held the violets to him. He +raised a hand with evident effort and fumblingly took her wrist. He +pressed the wet flowers against his face. + +"It's a shame to bring them here, Lady Carfax," he said, letting her go. +"Take them--wear them! I guess they'll be happier with you." + +She smiled a little. "Should I have gathered all this quantity for +myself? It has taken me nearly an hour." + +"You should have told the gardener," he said. "You mustn't go tiring +yourself out over me. I'm not worth it." He added, with that kindly +courtesy of which adversity had never deprived him, "But I'm real +grateful all the same. You mustn't think me unappreciative." + +"I don't," she answered gently. "Wouldn't you like them in water?" + +"Ah, yes," he said. "Put them near me. I shall smell them if I can't see +them. Do you mind closing the window? I can't get warm to-day." + +She moved to comply, passing across his line of vision. A moment she +stood with the keen sweet air blowing in upon her, a tall, gracious +figure in the full flower of comely womanhood, not beautiful, but +possessing in every line of her that queenly, indescribable charm which +is greater than beauty. + +The man caught his breath as he watched her. His brows contracted. + +Softly she closed the window and turned. She came back to her chair +by his side, drew forward a little table, and began deftly to arrange +her flowers. + +Several seconds passed before Lucas broke the silence. "It does me good +to watch you," he said. "You're always so serene." + +She smiled at him across the violets. "You place serenity among the +higher virtues?" + +"I do," he said simply. "It's such a restful contrast to the +strenuousness of life. You make me feel just by looking at you that +everything's all right. You bring a peaceful atmosphere in with you, +and"--his voice sank a little--"you take it away again when you go." + +The smile went out of her grey eyes at his last words, but the +steadfastness remained. "Then," she said gently, "I must come more often +and stay longer." + +But he instantly negatived that. "No--it wouldn't be good for you. It +wouldn't be good for me either to get to lean on you too much. I should +grow exacting." + +She saw a gleam of his old smile as he spoke, but it was gone at once, +lost among the countless lines that pain and weariness had drawn of late +upon his face. + +"I don't think that is very likely," Anne said. "I can't imagine it." + +"Not yet perhaps. I haven't quite reached that stage. Maybe I shall be +down and out before it comes. God grant it!" + +The words were too deliberate to cause her any shock. They were, +moreover, not wholly unexpected. There followed a short silence while she +finished arranging her violets. Then very quietly she spoke: + +"You say that because you are tired." + +"I am more than tired," he answered. "I'm done. I'm beaten. I'm whipped +off the field." + +"You think you are not gaining ground?" she questioned. + +"My dear Lady Carfax," he said quietly, "it's no use closing one's eyes +to the obvious. I'm losing ground every day--every night." + +"But you are not fighting," she said. + +"No." He looked at her half-wistfully from under his heavy eyelids. "Do +you think me quite despicable? I've done my best." + +She was silent. Perhaps she was not fully prepared to cope with this open +admission of failure. + +"I've done my best," he said again. "But it's outlasted my strength. I'm +like a man hanging on to the edge of a precipice. I know every instant +that my grip is slackening, and I can't help it. I've got to drop." + +"You haven't done your best yet," Anne said, her voice very low. "You've +got to hold on to the very end. It may be help is nearer than you think." + +"But if I don't want help?" he said. "If it would be more merciful to +let me go?" + +Again she was silent. + +"You know," he said, "life hasn't many inducements. I've put up a fight +for it because I gave my promise to Nap before he went. But it isn't good +enough to keep on. I can't win through. The odds are too great." + +"Do you think Nap would let you stop fighting?" she said. + +He smiled again faintly. "I suppose--if he were here--I should subsist on +his vitality for a little while. But the end would be the same. Even he +can't work miracles." + +"Don't you believe in miracles?" Anne said. + +He looked at her interrogatively. + +"Mr. Errol," she said, "I am going to remind you of something that I +think you have forgotten. It was Dr. Capper who told me. It was when you +were recovering consciousness after the operation. You sent me a message. +'Tell Anne,' you said, 'I am going to get well.'" She paused a moment, +looking at him very steadily. "I don't know why exactly you sent that +special message to me, but I have carried it in my heart ever since." + +She had moved him at last. She saw a faint glow spread slowly over the +tired face. The heavy eyes opened wide to meet her look. + +"Did I say that?" he said. "Yes, I had forgotten." + +He was silent for a little, gazing full at her with the eyes of one +suddenly awakened. + +She lowered her own, and bent her face to the violets. Though she had +spoken so quietly it had not been without effort. She had not found +it easy. Nor did she find his silence easy, implicitly though she +trusted him. + +Perhaps he understood, for when he spoke at length there was in his +voice so reassuring a gentleness that on the instant her +embarrassment passed. + +"Anne," he said, "do you really want me to get well? Would such a miracle +make much difference to you?" + +"It would make all the difference in the world," she answered earnestly. +"I want it more than anything else in life." + +With the words she raised her eyes, found his fixed upon her with an +expression so new, so tender, that her heart stirred within her as a +flower that expands in sudden sunshine, and the next moment his hand lay +between her own, and all doubt, all hesitation had fled. + +"But, my dear," he said, "I always thought it was Nap. Surely it was +Nap!" + +She felt as if something had stabbed her. "No, never!" she said +passionately. "Never! It might have been--once--before I knew him. But +never since, never since!" + +"That so?" said Lucas Errol, and was silent for a little. Then, +"Anne"--and the soft drawl had in it a tremor that was almost a break--"I +guess I do believe in miracles after all, dear. Anyway," he began to +smile, "there are some things in life too mighty for explanation." + +His face was turned towards her. There was something in the look it wore +that seemed to her in some fashion superb. He was different from other +men. That quiet kingliness of his was so natural to him, so sublimely +free from arrogance. He was immeasurably greater than his fellows by +reason of the very smallness of his self-esteem. + +"Guess I must take up my burden again and step out," he said. "You won't +catch me slacking any after this. And--if I don't win out, dear, you'll +know that it just wasn't possible because God didn't will it so." + +"Oh, but you will!" she said, clasping his hand more closely. "You will! +God knows how badly I want you." + +"His Will be done!" said Lucas Errol. "But I want you too, dearest. I +want you too." + +His fingers stirred in her hold. It was the merest movement, but she +knew his meaning. She slipped to her knees by his side, leaned down and +kissed him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A VOICE THAT CALLED + + +Christmas came and went--the most peaceful Christmas that Anne had ever +known. A wonderful peace had indeed begun to possess her. It was as if +after long tossing she had come at last into quiet waters, and a +contentment such as she had never known before was hers. Her health had +improved in this calm, untroubled atmosphere. She slept without dreaming. +She had put all regrets and fears out of her life. + +Lucas filled all her thoughts. Had he allowed it, she would have devoted +herself exclusively to him, but this he would not have. Very slowly, very +painfully, he had struggled out of his Slough of Despond, and what that +struggle had meant to him none but himself would ever know. And now that +he had made it, and in a measure succeeded, he suffered scarcely less +than before. His strength was undoubtedly greater, his spirits were more +even; but these were the only visible signs of improvement. The long, +sleepless nights with spells of racking pain continued. Perhaps they +became less frequent as time went on, but they did not cease. + +Anne always knew, though the same brave smile greeted her every day, +when he had been through one of these ordeals. He was always so ready +to tell her when the news was good, but when it was otherwise his lips +were sealed upon the subject. He never uttered a desponding word in +her presence. + +But still, gradual, often halting though it was, he did make progress. He +went forward more than he slipped back. And ever he carried in his eyes +the light of a great hope. She knew that he did not despair, even in his +own hidden soul. + +And day by day her love and admiration for the man grew and spread, +filling her life, renewing her youth, transforming her very existence. +Day by day she sounded greater depths of a nature that made her feel +infinitely small in comparison. Day by day she marvelled afresh at the +greatness and the simplicity that went to the making of this man's soul. + +No one, save Mrs. Errol, knew of what had passed between them. They +scarcely referred to it even in private. There was no need, for the +understanding between them was complete. By mutual consent they awaited +the coming of Capper and the final miracle. + +Slowly the dark, bitter days of January dragged away. The Hunt Ball had +been postponed till the following month when the Town Hall, which had +been building all the winter, should be complete. Anne, to her dismay, +had been unanimously elected to perform the opening ceremony. Her +position as Lady of the Manor made her prominent, and, no substitute +being forthcoming, she had been obliged reluctantly to consent. Her deep +mourning enabled her to avoid any succeeding social function, but, since +she had broken her seclusion, she found it impossible to escape the +ceremony itself. + +She had never enjoyed social prominence, and she was thankful that at the +Hunt Ball at least her presence could not be expected. She never thought +of the last that she had attended without a shiver. It had been her +birthday, and this fact brought it to mind the more persistently. This +year she spent the day in the peaceful atmosphere of Baronmead, driving +home at length, through the frosty starlight, in the Errols' car. + +She strove as she went to put away from her the memory of that other ride +of a year ago, when she had been borne swiftly through the darkness as +though upon wings, when she had lain back exhausted in her corner and +dreamed a strange, vivid dream, while Nap had sat upright beside her, +alert, silent, inscrutable, plucking the gloves to tatters between his +restless hands. + +The vision would not be excluded, strive though she might. She leaned +amongst the cushions and closed her eyes, trying to trick herself to +drowsiness, but on the instant he was there beside her again, a +ruthless, indomitable presence, which would not be ignored. She was glad +when she came to her journey's end. + +Entering the hall, she gathered up a few letters that lay there, and went +straight to her room. With a feeling of unwonted fatigue she dropped into +an easy-chair and sat for awhile inert. On her right hand she wore a ring +that Lucas had given her only that day. + +He had half-apologised for his offering. "If you think it premature, +don't wear it!" he had said. + +And she had slipped it on to her right hand and worn it ever since. + +She recalled the kindling of his tired eyes at her action, and smiled +sadly to herself. How little she had to give him after all! And yet he +was content! + +Sitting there, she raised her hand and looked closely at the gift. It was +a complete circle of diamonds. She had never seen such a ring before. It +must have cost a fortune. She wondered if she ought to wear it. Again +memory began to crowd upon her, strive though she would. + +"Do you like diamonds?" asked a casual voice. + +Her hand fell into her lap. She sat as one watching a scene upon a stage, +rapt and listening. She wanted to rise and move away, to break the magic +spell that bound her, to flee--to flee--but she was powerless. + +"No," said the voice. "You haven't a passion for anything at present. +You will have soon." + +There fell a silence in her soul, a brief darkness, then again words, no +longer casual, but quick, burning, passionate. + +"I am mad--I am mad for you, Anne! Goddess--queen--woman--you are +mine--you are mine--you are mine!" And then, less fiery, less vehement, +but infinitely more compelling: "Where is your love for me? I will swear +that you loved me once!" + +The voice ceased, was lost in the wild throbbing of her heart, and Anne's +hands clenched unconsciously. In that moment there came to her the +conviction, inexplicable but extraordinarily vivid, that across the world +Nap Errol had called to her--and had called in vain. + +Minutes passed. She sat as one in a trance. Her eyes were wide and fixed. +Her face was grey. + +She rose at last and stood looking down into the red depths of the +fire. The coals sank together under her eyes, and a sudden flame flared +fiercely for a moment and died. It was like the opening and the +shutting of a furnace door. A long, long shiver went through her. She +turned away.... + +Anne Carfax did not look in her glass again that day. For the third time +in her life she was afraid to meet her own eyes. + +And all night long her brain thrummed like a vibrating wire to a voice +that sometimes pleaded but more often gibed. "Has the Queen no further +use for her jester?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE UNINVITED GUEST + + +Spring came early that year, and the day fixed for the opening of the +Baronford Town Hall was brilliantly fine and warm. Anne was staying at +Baronmead for the event. The end of February was approaching. Lucas was +decidedly better. His sleep was becoming less broken. He suffered +considerably less; and he took a keen interest in all that passed. + +On the morning before the ceremony he greeted Anne with an eagerness +that almost amounted to impatience. "Come in! Come in! I've something to +show you." + +He was alone. She went to his side and kissed him. + +His hands caught hers, and she marvelled at the strength of his grip. +"Sweetheart," he said, "I've had a letter from Capper." + +She felt the blood ebb suddenly from her face. She stood a moment in +silence, then sat down and pressed his hand close against her heart. + +"What does he say?" she asked. + +He looked at her oddly for a few seconds. Then: "It's good news, dear," +he said. "You mustn't let it scare you." + +She began to smile, though her lips were trembling. "No, of course not. +Tell me what he says." + +He gave her the letter and she read. Capper wrote that he had received an +excellent report from Dr. Randal of his patient's progress, that he +expected to be in England in about a fortnight and would come down +himself to ascertain if the time for the second operation had arrived. He +wrote in a cheery strain, and at the end of the letter was a postscript: +"Have you taken my advice yet with regard to _la femme_?" + +"An ancient joke," explained Lucas with a smile. "He told me long ago +that I should need a woman's help to pull me through. And"--his voice +dropped--"I guess he was right." + +The colour came back to her face. She pressed his hand without speaking. + +"I shouldn't be here now but for you, Anne," he said, his blue eyes +watching her. "I sometimes think it must have been a mortal strain upon +you. Have you felt it so very badly, I wonder?" + +She met his look with eyes grown misty. "Luke--my dearest--you have done +far greater things for me. You have kept me from starvation. You have no +idea what you are to me." + +The words came brokenly. She checked a sudden sob and, rising, moved to +the window. + +Lucas lay silent, but his eyes watched her with a great tenderness. + +When she came back to him she was smiling. "Have you ever begun to think +of what you will do when you are well?" she said. + +"I am thinking of it always," he answered. "I make wonderful pictures for +myself sometimes. You are the central figure of them all." + +She clasped his hand again in hers. "Lucas," she said, "will you +take me away?" + +"Yes, dear," he said. + +"Far away from anywhere I have ever been before?" Her voice shook a +little. "I want to begin life over again where everything is new." + +A certain shrewdness gleamed in the steady eyes that watched her, but it +was mingled with the utmost kindness. + +"I guess I'd better show you my best picture right now," he said. "It's +got a steam yacht in it, and a state cabin fit for a queen. And it goes +rocking around the world, looking for the Happy Islands. I guess we shall +find them some day, sweetheart--maybe sooner than we think." + +"Ah, yes," she said. "We won't stop looking till we do. How soon shall we +start, Luke?" + +He answered her with a smile, but there was a thrill of deep feeling in +his words. "Just as soon as I can stand on my feet like any other man, +Anne, and hold the woman I love in my arms." + +She bent her face suddenly, pressing her cheek to the hand she held. "I +am ready for you when ever you will," she murmured. + +"I know it," he said. "And God bless you for telling me so!" + +He was full of kindness to her that day, and she thought him cheerier +than he had been all the winter. When she bade him good-bye that +afternoon he seemed in excellent spirits. Yet after she was gone he lay +for a long while staring at the specks of dust that danced in a shaft of +sunlight, with the air of a man seeking the solution of a problem that +baffled him. And once very suddenly he sighed. + +Anne went through the ordeal of publicity with less embarrassment than +she had anticipated. Mrs. Errol was with her, and she was surrounded by +friends. Even Major Shirley deigned to look upon her with a favourable +eye. Bertie was hunting, but Dot was present to view the final +achievement of her favourite scheme. + +She seized the first opportunity to slip her arm through Anne's. "Do--do +come home with me to tea," she whispered very urgently. "I want to show +you some things I have been making. And make the dear mater come too, if +someone else doesn't snap her up first." + +But the dear mater was already snapped up, and Anne had some difficulty +in avoiding a like fate. + +Eventually, however, she succeeded in making her escape, and she and Dot +drove back to the Dower House, congratulating themselves. + +"I am lucky to get you all to myself," Dot said. "And do you know, dear +Lady Carfax, you are looking simply lovely to-day?" + +Anne smiled a little. She had discarded her widow's veil for the first +time, and she felt like a woman emerging from a long imprisonment. People +would call it premature, she knew. Doubtless they were already discussing +her not too charitably. But after all, why should she consider them? The +winter was past and over, and the gold of the coming spring was already +dawning. Why should she mourn? Were not all regrets put away for ever? + +"I wish you would call me Anne, Dot," she said. + +"To be sure I will," said Dot, with shining eyes. "I never liked the name +before I knew you. And now I love it." + +There was something wonderfully genuine and childlike about Dot, a +youthfulness that would probably cling to her all her life. Anne drew her +on to speak of herself and her coming happiness, which she did with that +cheery simplicity of hers that had first drawn Bertie to her. + +"He makes a tremendous fuss," she said, displaying Bertie's favourite +dimple at the thought. "I don't, you know. I somehow feel it's going to +be all right. But it's rather nice being petted for months together. I +haven't had a tantrum for ages. I'm afraid I'm getting spoilt." + +At which piece of logic Anne could not repress a smile. + +"He won't be home to tea," said Dot, when they finally turned in at the +Dower House. "He stables his hunters at Baronmead, and he is sure to go +in and see Luke. So we shall have it all to ourselves. I'm so glad, for I +have been wanting your advice for days. I wonder if anyone has been. +Hullo! Bertie's back after all!" + +A glow of firelight met them from the little square hall as they +entered, and a smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the scent from the +burning logs. + +Dot stood back for her guest to precede her, but Anne stood +suddenly still. + +"Hullo!" said Dot again. + +A slim, straight figure was standing outlined against the firelight. Dot +stared as she stepped forward. + +"Why--Nap!" she said incredulously. + +He made a swift, elastic movement to meet her, caught her hands, laughed, +and kissed her. + +"Why--Dot!" he said. + +Dot continued to stare. "Good gracious!" she said. + +And in the doorway Anne stood like a statue, the soft spring dusk +behind her. + +"My sister seems surprised," said Nap. "I hope I haven't come at an +unlucky moment." + +He did not even glance towards the silent figure in the doorway. It was +as if he had not observed it. + +"I am surprised," said Dot. "Hugely surprised. But I'm very glad to see +you," she added. "When did you come?" + +"I have been here about half an hour," he told her coolly. "I went to the +Rectory first, where I learned for the first time of your marriage. You +forgot to mention that detail when you wrote. Hence my brotherly salute, +which you must have missed on your wedding-day!" + +At this point Dot remembered her other guest, and turned with flushed +cheeks. "Lady Carfax--Anne--you--you know my brother-in-law Nap?" + +The pleading in her voice was unmistakable. She was evidently agitated, +wholly at a loss how to manage a most difficult situation. + +But Nap hastened to relieve her of the responsibility. He had dealt +with difficult situations before. He went straight to Anne and stood +before her. + +"Are you going to know me, Lady Carfax?" he asked. + +There was no arrogance in voice or bearing as he uttered the question. He +looked as if he expected to be dismissed, as if he were ready at a word +to turn and go. His eyes were lowered. His foot was already on the +threshold. + +But Anne stood speechless and rigid. For those few seconds she was as one +stricken with paralysis. She knew that if she moved or tried to speak she +would faint. + +She wondered desperately how long it would be before he looked up, if +perhaps he would go without looking at her, or if--ah, he was speaking +again! His words reached her as from an immense distance. At the same +instant his hands came to her out of a surging darkness that hid all +things, grasping, sustaining, compelling. She yielded to them, scarcely +knowing what she did. + +"Lady Carfax has been overtiring herself," she heard him say. "Have you +any brandy at hand?" + +"Oh, dear Lady Carfax!" cried Dot in distress. "Make her sit down, Nap. +Here is a cushion. Yes, I'll go and get some." + +Guided by those steady hands, Anne sank into a chair, and there +the constriction that bound her began to pass. She shivered from +head to foot. + +Nap stooped over her and chafed her icy hands. He did not look at her or +speak. When Dot came back, he took the glass from her and held it very +quietly to the quivering lips. + +She drank, responsive to his unspoken insistence, and as she did so, for +a single instant she met his eyes. They were darkly inscrutable and gave +her no message of any sort. She might have been accepting help from a +total stranger. + +"No more, please!" she whispered, and he took the glass away. + +The front door was still open. He drew it wider, and the evening air blew +in across her face. Somewhere away in the darkness a thrush was warbling +softly. Nap stood against the door and waited. Dot knelt beside her, +holding her hand very tightly. + +"I am better," Anne said at last. "Forgive me, dear child. I suppose it +has been--too much for me." + +"My dear, dear Anne!" said Dot impulsively. "Would you like to come into +the drawing-room? There is tea there. But of course we will have it here +if you prefer it." + +"No," Anne said. "No. We will go to the drawing-room." + +She prepared to rise, and instantly Nap stepped forward. But he did not +offer to touch her. He only stood ready. + +When he saw that she had so far recovered herself as to be able to move +with Dot's assistance, he dropped back. + +"I am going, Dot," he said. "You will do better without me. I will look +in again later." + +And before Dot could agree or protest he had stepped out into the +deepening twilight and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE HEART OF A SAVAGE + + +It had certainly been a successful afternoon. Mrs. Errol smiled to +herself as she drove back to Baronmead. Everything had gone well. Dear +Anne had looked lovely, and she for one was thankful that she had +discarded her widow's weeds. Had not her husband been virtually dead to +her for nearly a year? Besides--here Mrs. Errol's thoughts merged into a +smile again--dear Anne was young, not much more than a girl in years. +Doubtless she would marry again ere long. + +At this point Mrs. Errol floated happily away upon a voyage of day-dreams +that lasted till the car stopped. So engrossed was she that she did not +move for a moment even then. Not until the door was opened from outside +did she bestir herself. Then, still smiling, she prepared to descend. + +But the next instant she checked herself with a violent start that nearly +threw her backwards. The man at the step who stood waiting to assist her +was no servant. + +"My!" she gasped. "Is it you, Nap, or your ghost?" + +"It's me," said Nap. + +Very coolly he reached out a hand and helped her to descend. "We have +arrived at the same moment," he said. "I've just walked across the park. +How are you, alma mater?" + +She did not answer him or make response of any sort to his greeting. She +walked up the steps and into the house with leaden feet. The smile had +died utterly from her face. She looked suddenly old. + +He followed her with the utmost composure, and when she stopped proceeded +to divest her of her furs with the deftness of movement habitual to him. + +Abruptly she spoke, in her voice a ring of something that was almost +ferocity. "What have you come back for anyway?" + +He raised his eyebrows slightly without replying. + +But Mrs. Errol was not to be so silenced. Her hands fastened with +determination upon the front of his coat. "You face me, Napoleon Errol," +she said. "And answer me honestly. What have you come back for? Weren't +there enough women on the other side to keep you amused?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Women in plenty--amusement none. Moreover, I +didn't go to be amused. Where is Lucas?" + +"Don't you go to Lucas till I've done with you," said Mrs. Errol. "You +come right along to my room first." + +"What for?" He stood motionless, suffering her restraining hands, the +beginning of a smile about his lips. + +"There's something I've got to tell you," she said. + +"Lead the way then, alma mater!" he said. "I am very much at your +service." + +Mrs. Errol turned without further words, and he, with her sables +flung across his shoulder, prepared to follow. She moved up the +stairs as if she were very weary. The man behind her walked with the +elasticity of a cat. + +But there was no lack of resolution about her when in her own room she +turned and faced him. There was rather something suggestive of a mother +animal at bay. + +"Nap," she said, and her deep voice quivered, "if there's any right +feeling in you, if you are capable of a single spark of affection, of +gratitude, you'll turn around right now and go back to the place you +came from." + +Nap deposited his burden on the back of a chair. His dark face was devoid +of the faintest shadow of expression. "That so?" he drawled. "I thought +you seemed mighty pleased to see me." + +"Lock that door!" said Mrs. Errol. "Now come and sit here where you can +see my face and know whether I am telling the truth." + +He smiled at that. "I don't require ocular evidence, alma mater. I have +always been able to read you with my eyes shut." + +"I believe you have, Nap," she said, with a touch of wistfulness. + +"It isn't your fault," he said, "that you weren't made subtle enough. +You've done your best." + +He came and sat down facing her as she desired. The strong electric light +beat upon his face also, but it revealed nothing to her anxious +eyes--nothing save that faint, cynical smile that masked so much. + +She shook her head. She was clasping and unclasping her hands restlessly. +"A very poor best, Nap," she said. "I know only too well how badly I've +failed. It never seemed to matter till lately, and now I would give the +eyes out of my head to have a little influence with you." + +"That so?" he said again. + +She made a desperate gesture. "Yes, you sit there and smile. It doesn't +matter to you who suffers so long as you can grab what you want." + +"How do you know what I want?" he said. + +"I don't know," said Mrs. Errol. "I only surmise." + +"And you think that wise? You are not afraid of tripping up in the dark?" + +She stretched out her hands to him in sudden earnest entreaty. "Nap, tell +me that it isn't Anne Carfax, and I'll bless you with my dying breath!" + +But he looked at her without emotion. He took her hands after a moment, +but it was the merest act of courtesy. He did not hold them. + +"And if it were?" he said slowly, his hard eyes fixed on hers. + +She choked back her agitation with the tears running down her face. "Then +God help Lucas--and me too--for it will be his death-blow!" + +"Lucas?" said Nap. + +He did not speak as if vitally interested, yet she answered as if +compelled. + +"He loves her. He can't do without her. She has been his mainstay all +through the winter. He would have died without her." + +Nap passed over the information as though it were of no importance. "He +is no better then?" he asked. + +"Yes, he is better. But he has been real sick. No one knows what he has +come through, and there is that other operation still to be faced. I'm +scared to think of it. He hasn't the strength of a mouse. It's only the +thought of Anne that makes him able to hold on. I can see it in his eyes +day after day--the thought of winning out and making her his wife." + +Again he passed the matter over. "When does Capper come again?" + +"Very soon now. In two or three weeks. There was a letter from him +to-day, Lucas was quite excited about it, but I fancy it upset dear Anne +some. You see--she loves him too." + +There fell a silence. Mrs. Errol wiped her eyes and strove to compose +herself. Somehow he had made her aware of the futility of tears. She +wondered what was passing in his mind as he sat there sphinx-like, +staring straight before him. Had she managed to reach his heart, she +wondered? Or was there perchance no heart behind that inscrutable mask to +reach? Yet she had always believed that after his own savage fashion he +had loved Lucas. + +Suddenly he rose. "If you have quite done with me, alma mater, I'll go." + +She looked up at him apprehensively. "What are you going to do?" + +He smiled abruptly. "I am going to get a drink." + +"And what then?" she asked feverishly. "Nap, oh, Nap, she is staying in +the house. Won't you go without seeing her?" + +"I have seen her already," drawled Nap. + +"You have seen her?" + +His smile became contemptuous. "What of it? Do you seriously suppose she +is the only woman in the world I care to look at?" + +"I don't know what to think," cried Mrs. Errol. "I only know that you +hold Luke's fate between your hands." + +He was already at the door. He turned and briefly bowed. "You flatter me, +alma mater!" he said. + +And with the smile still upon his lips he left her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DIVINE SPARK + + +"Boney, old chap, you're the very man I want!" Such was Lucas Errol's +greeting to the man who had shot like a thunderbolt into the peaceful +atmosphere that surrounded him, to the general disturbance of all others +who dwelt therein. + +"I guess you must have known it," he said, the sinewy hand fast gripped +in his. "You've come like an answer to prayer. Where have you been all +this time? And why didn't you write? It's worried me some not hearing." + +"Great Lucifer!" said Nap. + +He sat down, leaving his hand in his brother's grasp. The cynicism had +gone utterly from his face, but he did not answer either question. + +"So you are winning out?" he said. "It's been a long trail, I'll wager." + +"Oh, damnably long, Boney." Lucas uttered a weary sigh. "I was nearly +down and out in the winter. But I'm better, you know. I'm better." He +met the open criticism of Nap's eyes with a smile. "What's the +verdict?" he asked. + +"I'll tell you presently. You're not looking overfed anyway." Nap's +fingers began to feel along his wrist. "Did Capper say he wanted a +skeleton to work on?" + +"Shucks, dear fellow! There's more than enough of me. Tell me about +yourself. What have you been doing? I want to know." + +"I?" Nap jerked back his head. "I've nothing to tell," he declared. +"You know what I went to do. Well, I've done it, and that's all there +is to it." + +"I'm not quite clear as to what you went to do," Lucas answered. "You +didn't turn up in Arizona. I was puzzled what to think." + +"You never expected me to go to Arizona," said Nap with conviction. "You +were shrewd enough for that." + +"Thanks, Boney! P'r'aps I was. But I've been hoping all this while, +nevertheless, that you might have the grit to keep the devil at +arm's length." + +Nap laughed, stretched his arms above his head, and made a vehement +gesture as if flinging something from him--something that writhed +and clung. + +"Will it interest you to know that the devil has ceased to provide me +with distractions?" he asked suddenly. + +A certain eagerness came into the blue eyes. "That so, Boney?" + +Nap leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "It's no virtue of mine," he +said. "I found I wanted solitude, so I went to the Rockies and stayed +there till I was tired. That's all." + +Again the skeleton hand of the man on the bed sought and pressed his. +"Old chap, I'm real glad," the tired voice drawled. "You've found +yourself at last. I always felt you would--sooner or later." + +Nap's lips twitched a little. "Don't be too sure of that. Anyway it +doesn't follow that I shall sit at home and practise the domestic +virtues. I've got to wander a bit first and find my own level." + +"Not yet, dear fellow. I'm wanting you myself." + +"You!" The thin lips began to smile. "That's real magnanimous of you. +But--thanks all the same--I'm not taking any. You have the mater and +Bertie and Anne Carfax to bolster you up. I guess I'm not essential." + +"And I guess you can do more for me than any one of them," Lucas made +quiet reply. "P'r'aps you'll think me a selfish brute to say so, but I +need you badly. You're like a stimulating drug to me. You pick me up when +I'm down. There is no one can help me in the same way." + +"You wouldn't get Capper to say 'Amen' to that," remarked Nap. + +"Capper is no oracle out of his own sphere. Besides," there was almost a +note of pleading in Lucas's voice, "I know what I want better than he +can tell me." + +"True, very true!" Nap was smiling somewhat grimly. "And doubtless your +wish is law. But it doesn't follow that you always desire what is best +for yourself. Hadn't you better consult the queen before you admit the +wasp to the hive?" + +"You're too fond of talking in parables, my son," protested Lucas, +frowning slightly. "My intelligence won't stretch to it." + +"We'll try another," said Nap imperturbably. "Do you think Anne Carfax +would thank you for asking me to pull in the same boat? Do you think she +would second that request? Because, if so, I beg to differ." + +He looked his brother full in the face as he said it, without the flicker +of an eyelid. Lucas's frown deepened. He lay in silence. + +After a moment Nap went on. "She may be ready to put up with it for your +sake. There's nothing some women won't do for a man they care for, and I +take it she has your welfare next her heart. But it's rather much to ask +of her. You wouldn't want to run the risk of frightening her away." + +Lucas was watching him gravely, his brows still drawn. "Boney," he said +slowly at length, "I'd give a good deal to see into your soul." + +Nap smiled with a faint return of cynicism. "Who's talking in parables +now? Afraid I can't show you what I haven't got." + +Lucas passed the rejoinder by. "What makes you conclude that I am more +to her than--any other man?" + +"Circumstances," said Nap. + +"What circumstances?" + +"Finding her installed here as one of the family for one. Finding you +pulling off the biggest deal of your life for another. And other +signs--crowds of them--that I can't explain but that I can't fail to +notice when I've got my nose to the trail. You needn't be shy about it. +I'm just as pleased as you are." + +But Lucas's face did not clear. There followed a very decided pause. +Then, with an effort, very earnestly, he spoke. + +"Nap, I don't believe you'll lie to me when I tell you that I'd rather +die than be deceived. I know you cared for her once." + +"I care for most women," said Nap indifferently. "What of that? It's the +way I'm made, and I must say they don't most of 'em seem to mind." + +"But, Boney--Anne Carfax?" + +Nap threw up his head with a brief laugh. "Oh, I'm cured of that--quite +cured. The paths of perpetual virtue are not for me. I prefer more rapid +travelling and a surer goal." + +He stood up, his arms stretched up above his head. "I make you a present +of Anne Carfax," he said lightly. "Not that she is mine to give. But I +wouldn't keep her if she were. We belong to different spheres." + +"And yet--" Lucas said. + +"My dear fellow, that's an old story." Impulsively Nap cut in, almost +fierily. "Do you think the woman is living who could hold me after +all this time? I tell you that fire is burnt out. Why rake over the +dead ashes?" + +"I am looking for the Divine Spark," Lucas answered quietly. + +"And if you found it?" Nap's words came through smiling lips, and yet +they sounded savage. + +"If I found it," very steadily came the answer, "I would blow it to a +flame, Boney, for your sake--and hers." + +"For hers?" Something fierce showed in Nap's eyes. It was as if a goaded +animal suddenly looked out of them. + +Lucas must have seen it, for on the instant his manner changed. + +"We won't go any further," he said. "Only, dear fellow, I can't part with +you yet. Let that be understood. I want you." + +"So be it!" said Nap. "I will stay and see you married." + +And with the words he stooped and grasped his brother's hand for a +moment. + +"Go on and prosper, Luke," he said. "It's high time that you came into +your own." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE QUEEN'S PARDON + + +As soon as Anne entered Baronmead that evening she was aware of a +difference. Bertie, with a thunderous countenance, came forward to +meet her. She had not seen him wear that look in all the months of +Nap's absence. + +"The prodigal has returned," he told her briefly. "P'r'aps you know." + +She did not pretend to misunderstand him. She had schooled herself to +face the situation without shrinking. + +"Yes, I know," she said. "I met him at your house an hour ago." + +"At my house!" For a single instant Bertie looked downright murderous, +and then the sight of Anne's pale face made him restrain himself. + +"He didn't stay," she said rather wearily. "What of Luke? Has he +seen him?" + +"Can't understand Luke," muttered Bertie. "He's actually pleased. Say, +Lady Carfax, would it help any if I were to stop and dine?" + +"No," Anne said, smiling a little. "Go back to Dot, won't you? She is +expecting you." + +She saw that he was glad to follow her suggestion, and she was +undoubtedly glad to see him go. He was plainly in an explosive mood. + +Mrs. Errol came to her room while she was dressing. But Mrs. Errol had +had ample time to compose herself. She showed no agitation, and spoke of +Nap's unexpected arrival as if she were quite indifferent to his comings +and goings; but she hovered about Anne with a protecting motherliness +that did not need to express itself in words. When they went downstairs +she held Anne's arm very closely. + +But the ordeal that both were mutely dreading did not take place that +night. Nap did not present himself at the dinner-table, and they dined +alone in unspoken relief. + +Anne went to Lucas as usual when the meal was over, but she thought he +seemed tired and she did not remain with him long. + +He kept her hand for a moment when she stooped to bid him good-night. + +"Anne," he said gently, "I just want you to know, dear, that Nap will be +all right. Don't be anxious any. There is no need." + +He desired to reassure her, she saw; and she bent and kissed him. And +then for a moment a queer gust of passion possessed her, shook her from +head to foot. + +"Oh, Luke," she whispered, "can't you send him away again?" + +He looked up at her oddly, with eyes that seemed to see beyond her. And +then, "Good-night, dear," he said, as if he had not heard. + +She turned from him in silence. It was the first time she had ever +appealed to Lucas Errol in vain. + +She went to her room early that night. She told herself she must leave on +the morrow. She was urged by a deep unrest. She could not remain under +the same roof with this man who had once so cruelly tortured her. She +could not. Lucas must understand this. He must never ask it of her, +never--never! + +She did not in the least understand the latter's attitude. The more she +thought of it, the more it troubled her. She felt as if he had suddenly +ceased to be on her side, had, as it were, shut off his sympathy and left +her groping and alone. It was not like him to treat her thus. It hurt her +subtly, wounding her as she had never expected to be wounded, shaking her +faith in what she had ever believed to be immutable. And then she +remembered the physical weakness with which he had wrestled so long, and +a great pity flooded her heart. She would not let herself be hurt any +longer. Was he not reserving his strength for her sake? And could she +not, for his, face bravely this sudden obstacle that had arisen in her +path? Moreover, had he not told her that all would be well? And he had +said it as one who knew. Why, then, was she harbouring this wild dismay? + +Why? Why? She asked the question, but she did not seek the answer. She +dared not. + +And yet in the morning she went down with a calm aspect, resolute and +unafraid. Once more she was compelling herself to do simply that which +lay nearest to her hand. + +Nap came out of a room near the foot of the stairs as she descended. +He scarcely looked at her, but quite obviously he had been awaiting +her coming. + +"May I have two words with you before you join the mater?" he asked. + +With her whole soul she wanted to refuse. Yet without visible hesitation +she yielded. She turned aside into the room he had just quitted. + +He followed, and, closing the door, came forward to the table. It was +littered with guns and cleaning apparatus. He had evidently been +employing himself while he waited, and he at once took up an oily rag and +resumed operations, his swarthy face bent over his task, his lips very +firmly compressed. + +Anne waited for a moment or two. His attitude puzzled her. She had become +so accustomed to the fierce directness of his stare that its absence +disconcerted her. + +"What is it you wish to say to me?" she asked at length. + +At the first sound of her voice he ceased to work, but still he did not +raise his eyes. + +"On my own account--nothing," he said, speaking very deliberately. "But +as my sojourn here may be an offence to you, I think it advisable to +explain at the outset that I am not a free agent. My brother has +decreed it, and as you know"--a hint of irony crept into his voice--"his +will is my law." + +"I understand," said Anne gravely, but even as she spoke she was asking +herself what possible motive had prompted this explanation. + +He jerked up his head and she caught the glint of his fiery eyes for an +instant. "You--care for Lucas, Lady Carfax?" he said. + +Her heart gave a sudden throb that hurt her intolerably. For a moment she +could not speak. + +Then, "Yes," she said. "I love him." + +Nap was pulling mechanically at the rag he held. It began to tear between +his hands. She watched him ripping it to shreds. + +Suddenly he seemed to realise what he was doing, and tossed it from him. +He looked her straight in the eyes. + +"Have you fixed the date for your coronation?" he asked. + +Her eyes fell instantly. "Will you tell me what you mean?" she said. + +"Is my meaning obscure?" + +She compelled herself to answer him steadily. "If you mean our marriage, +it will not take place for some time, possibly not this year." + +"Why not?" said Nap. "Are you a slave to etiquette?" + +The thing sounded preposterous on his lips. She faintly smiled. "The +decision does not lie with me." + +"Ah!" he said shrewdly. "The privilege of kings! You will still be a +queen before you are thirty. And your first act will be to expel the +court jester--if he waits to be expelled." + +She saw his grim smile for an instant, and knew that he was playing his +old fencing game with her, but at the same time she knew that there was +no antagonism behind his point. How the knowledge came to her she could +not have said, but she realised afterwards that it was at that moment +that she began to perceive that the devil had gone out of Nap Errol. The +conviction was slow in growing, but it was then that it first took root; +it was then that her fear of the man began to die away. + +She raised her eyes. "Why should I do that, Nap?" + +He made her a deep bow. "Because I have been unfortunate enough to incur +your displeasure." + +There was a moment of silence, then, in obedience to that instinct to +which in rare moments she yielded herself and which never played her +false, Anne held out her hand to him. "I forgive you," she said. + +He started. He evidently had not expected that from her. Perhaps he had +not wanted it. Later she wondered. But he showed no awkwardness of +indecision. Only once had she ever seen him at a loss, and of that once +she would never voluntarily think again. + +He took her hand upon his sleeve and bent over it. She thought he was +going to kiss it, and a sharp dread went through her. But he only touched +it for a single instant with his forehead. + +"For Luke's sake?" he said, not looking at her. + +"For your own," she made answer, almost as if she could not help herself. + +"Because?" he questioned. + +"Because I know you love him," she said. "Because I know that you will be +loyal to him." + +"Though I may be false to you?" he said. + +She bent her head. "I am only a woman. I am afraid your experience of +women has not taught you to respect them." + +He picked up the gun again and fell to work upon it. "My experience of +one woman at least," he said, "has taught me--something different, +something I am not likely to forget." + +It was the end of the interview. In silence Anne turned to go. He wheeled +round and opened the door for her, but he did not look at her again, nor +she at him. When the door closed between them she felt as if a great +silence had fallen in her life. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SOMETHING GREAT + + +On the day succeeding Nap's return Dot went to tea at Baronmead. She was +a very constant visitor there. Lucas always enjoyed her bright presence +and welcomed her with warmth. But Dot was not feeling very bright that +day. She looked preoccupied, almost worried. + +She found that Mrs. Errol and Anne had gone out, and, as her custom was +when she found the house deserted, she went straight to her +brother-in-law's room. + +Tawny Hudson answered her knock at the outer door, and she was struck by +the lowering look the great half-breed wore. His expression was +positively villainous, and sharp as a pin-prick there darted through her +the memory of her first visit to Baronmead, and the hatred of Nap Errol +she had that day seen revealed in the man's eyes. She had never given the +matter a thought since. To-day it awoke to life, stirring within her a +vague apprehension. + +"How is your master, Tawny?" she asked. + +"He is not so well, madam," said Tawny Hudson, but he opened the door +wide notwithstanding, inviting her to enter. + +She went in. The room adjoined that in which Lucas lay, and Hudson was +always there when not actually in attendance upon his master, except in +his off hours, which were as few as Lucas would permit. + +"May I see him?" said Dot. "Or would he rather not be disturbed?" + +Hudson stepped to the closed door and listened, his great red head bent +almost to the keyhole. + +After a few moments he stood up and softly turned the handle. He made a +brief sign to her and passed noiselessly into the room. + +Dot remained where she was. She heard Lucas accost him at once, and +caught the murmur of the man's low-spoken reply. And then in a moment +Hudson came back to her. + +"Will you go in, madam?" he said, in his careful English that always made +her think of an animal that had been taught to speak. + +She went in, treading lightly, relieved to leave the man's heavy scowling +visage behind her. + +"Come right in," said Lucas hospitably. "It's real good of you to come +and see me like this." + +She took his outstretched hand, looking at him anxiously. She saw that he +had not slept for many hours. Though he smiled at her, there was a grey +look about his lips that made her wonder if he were in pain. + +"Sit down," he said gently. "It's nothing. Only another bad night. I +can't expect to sleep soundly always." + +"How disappointing!" Dot murmured. + +"Not surprising though. I had an exciting day yesterday. You heard of +Nap's return?" + +"Yes." There was a very decided cloud upon Dot's face. "I saw him." + +"Well?" said Lucas. + +She turned to him impulsively. "Isn't it horrid when the thing you've +been planning for and wanting ever so long happens and everyone else +is cross?" + +The blue eyes looked quizzical. "Very, I should say," said Lucas. "Would +it be presumptuous to ask what has been happening and who is cross?" + +Dot's answering smile held more of pathos than mirth. Her lips took a +quivering, downward droop. "It's Nap," she said. + +He raised his brows a little. "Nap seems the general pivot on which all +grievances turn," he remarked. + +Dot leaned her chin on her hand. "I do so hate making mistakes," she +said. + +"We all do it," said Lucas. + +"Oh, you don't!" She turned and gravely regarded him. "You are always +wise," she said, "never headlong." + +"Which only demonstrates your ignorance and the kindness of your heart," +said Lucas. "But go on, won't you? What has Nap been doing?" + +"Oh, nothing. Nap is all right. It isn't Nap I mind." Again that doleful +droop of the lips became apparent, together with a little quiver of the +voice undeniably piteous. "It--it's Bertie," whispered Dot. "I--I--it's +very ridiculous, isn't it? I'm a wee bit afraid of Bertie, do you know?" + +"St. Christopher!" said Lucas, in astonishment. + +"Yes. But you won't ever tell him, will you?" she pleaded anxiously. +"If--if he knew or guessed--all my prestige would be gone. I shouldn't +be able to manage him at all. He--he is rather difficult to manage +sometimes, don't you think?" + +Lucas was frowning slightly. "I guess I can manage him," he said. + +"No doubt you could. I expect you always have. He respects you," said +Dot, with unwitting wistfulness. + +Lucas turned his head and looked at her very steadily. "Will you tell me +something, Dot?" he said. + +She nodded. + +"Why are you afraid of Bertie?" + +She hesitated. + +"Come!" he said. "Surely you're not afraid of me too!" + +The banter in his voice was touched with a tenderness that went straight +to Dot's young heart. She leaned down impetuously and held his hand. + +"No," she said tremulously. "I'm not such a little idiot as that, Luke. +I'm afraid of Bertie because I've done something he wouldn't like. It's +a very little thing, Luke. It is, really. But--but it's bothered me off +and on all the winter. And now that Nap is home, I feel much worse--as +if--as if it had been really wrong. And--and"--she broke down +suddenly--"I know I ought to tell him. But--I can't." + +"Tell me," said Lucas gently. + +"And you will tell him for me?" + +"If you wish me to do so." + +"I don't like it," sobbed Dot. "It's so despicable of me. I've wanted to +tell him for ever so long. But he has been so good to me all this time, +and--and somehow I couldn't face it. We haven't even squabbled for months +now. It--it seemed such a pity to spoil everything when it really didn't +make any difference to anyone if he knew or not." + +"Don't cry," interposed Lucas. "It would hurt Bertie if he knew." + +"Dear Bertie!" whispered Dot. "Isn't it horrid of me to be such a coward? +I haven't done anything really wrong either. In fact at the time it +seemed almost right." + +"Almost!" said Lucas, faintly smiling. + +She smiled also through her tears. "Why don't you call me a humbug? Well, +listen! It was like this. One night in the beginning of the winter Bertie +and I had a disagreement about Nap. It wasn't at all important. But I had +to stick up for him, because I had chanced to see him just before he +left in the summer--you remember--when he was very, very miserable?" + +"I remember," said Lucas. + +He spoke rather wearily, but his eyes never left her face. He was +listening intently. + +"And I was frightfully sorry for him," proceeded Dot, "though at the +time I didn't know what was the matter. And I couldn't let Bertie say +horrid things about him. So I fired up. And then Bertie told me"--she +faltered a little--"about Nap caring for Lady Carfax. And that was where +the trouble began. He didn't give him credit for really loving her, +whereas I knew he did." + +Strong conviction sounded in Dot's voice. The blue eyes that watched her +opened a little. + +"That so?" said Lucas. + +"Oh, I was sure," she said. "I was sure. There are some things a woman +can't help knowing. It was the key to what I knew before. I +understood--at once." + +"And then?" said Lucas. + +"Then, of course, I remembered that Lady Carfax was free. And I asked +Bertie if he knew. You see, I thought it possible that in her heart she +might be caring for him too. I knew they had always been friends. And Sir +Giles was such a brute to her. No woman could ever have loved him. I +think most people couldn't help knowing that. And it seemed only fair +that Nap should know that Sir Giles was dead. I told Bertie so. He didn't +agree with me." Dot paused and vigorously dried her eyes. "I still don't +think he was right," she said. + +"P'r'aps not." Lucas spoke meditatively. "There's a good deal to be said +for woman's intuition," he said. + +"It seemed to me a matter of fair play," maintained Dot. "He didn't know +where Nap was, only his club address. And he wouldn't write himself, so +I just wrote a single line telling Nap that Sir Giles was dead, and sent +it off that night. I didn't tell Bertie. It didn't seem to matter much +then, and I knew it might be ages before Nap got it. But now that that +line has brought him back, I feel as if he ought to know--particularly +as Bertie is so angry with him for returning. And Anne too--Anne nearly +fainted when she saw him. I felt as if I had landed everybody in a +hopeless muddle." Again Dot wiped her eyes. "And I had so wanted him to +come," she ended. + +"Don't fret," said Lucas very kindly. "I wanted him too." + +She looked at him eagerly. "You think as I do? You think he cares +for Anne?" + +"I guess so," he answered, "since your letter brought him back." + +"And--and Anne? Do you think--do you really think--?" + +"I guess so," he said again. + +He lay silent for a while, his eyes drooping heavily, till she even began +to wonder if he were falling asleep. + +At length, "Dot," he said, "have I your permission to make what use I +like of this?" + +She gave a slight start. "You are going to tell Bertie?" + +He looked at her. "My dear," he said, "I think Bertie had better know." + +She nodded. "I know he ought. But he will be furious with me." + +"Not if I talk to him," said Lucas, with his quiet smile. + +"But it's so mean of me," she protested. "And I'm sure it's bad for you." + +He reached out his hand to her. "No, it isn't bad for me, Dot. It's just +the best thing possible. You've put me in the way of something great." + +She squeezed his hand. "Do you really think you can make things go +right?" + +"Under God," said Lucas gravely. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING + + +Notwithstanding Lucas's assurance, Dot awaited her husband's coming in +undisguised trepidation that night. + +She had not seen Nap since that brief glimpse of him in the hall when +Anne had so nearly swooned. She did not so much as know if Bertie had +seen him at all. They had not met on the previous evening, but Bertie's +aspect had been so thunderous ever since he had heard of his return that +she had been on thorns lest he should present himself again at the Dower +House. That he would come sooner or later she knew, but she hoped with +all her heart that it might not be when Bertie was at home. + +She was convinced, moreover, that Bertie was going to be very angry with +her, and her heart sank the more she thought of it. Bertie's anger had +become a hard thing to face since he had made her know the depths of his +tenderness. + +The night was chilly, and her suspense made her cold. She sat very close +to the fire in the cosy curtained hall, shivering, and straining her +ears to catch the sound of his feet on the gravel. She had worked herself +into a state of anxiety that made her start at the faintest noise. + +It was nearing the dinner-hour, and she was beginning to wonder if +perhaps he were staying at Baronmead to dine, though he had never done so +before without sending her word, when there came the sudden hoot of a +motor and the rush of wheels upon the drive. + +She sat up, every pulse beating. It must be one of the Baronmead motors. +But Bertie always walked. + +She heard the car stop at the door, and she rose to her feet, scarcely +knowing what to expect. The next moment the door opened and she heard +Bertie's voice. + +"The car will be all right," he said. "It's a fine night. Go in, won't +you? I expect Dot is waiting." + +And with amazement Dot saw Nap enter the hall in front of her husband. + +He came straight to her just as he had come on the previous day, and she +had a moment of sheer panic lest he should have the effrontery to kiss +her; but he spared her this, though the smile with which he greeted her +told her that he was quite aware of her embarrassment and its cause. + +"Bertie has taken upon himself to ask me to dine," he said, as he held +her hand. "I hope that is quite agreeable to Mrs. Bertie?" + +"Of course I am delighted," she said, but her eyes sought Bertie's +somewhat anxiously notwithstanding. + +She saw with relief that the cloud had gone from his face. He came +forward, bent, and kissed her. His hand lay upon her shoulder for an +instant with a quick, reassuring touch, and she knew that all was well. + +"Heavens, child! How cold you are!" he said. "I'll bring you down a +shawl, shall I? Come along, Nap. We are late." + +They went upstairs together, and Dot waited below, listening to their +voices in careless converse and wondering by what means Lucas had wrought +so amazing a change. + +She wondered still more during dinner, for Nap was plainly upon his best +behaviour. He seemed determined that Bertie should be on easy terms with +him, and he was in a great measure successful. Though reticent, Bertie +was undoubtedly cordial. + +At the appearance of dessert Nap rose. "I must be getting back to +Lucas," he said. + +"Oh, skittles! He won't be wanting you," Bertie protested. "Sit down +again, man. You haven't been here an hour." + +But Nap was not to be persuaded. "Many thanks, but I'm going all the +same. I want to secure him a good night if possible. Good-bye, Mrs. +Bertie!" He bent and kissed her hand. "I am going to be pretty busy for +the next week or two, but I shall call on you when I have time." + +He took a cigarette from Bertie's case, and went out without stopping +to light it. + +Bertie followed him into the hall. "Shall I come?" he asked. + +"No," said Nap. + +He found a paper spill on the mantelpiece and lighted it. As he held it +to his cigarette he looked at Bertie with a smile. + +"Remember that day I baited you? It must be about a year ago." + +Bertie looked uncomfortable. "I remember," he said shortly. + +Abruptly Nap thrust out his hand. "I've eaten your salt now," he said. +"I'll never bait you again." + +Bertie gave his hand. "Is that what you wanted to dine for?" + +"Partly." Nap's fingers gripped and held. "Also I wanted to persuade you +that we are fighting for the same thing, only maybe with different +weapons. You'll bear it in mind, eh, friend Bertie?" + +Bertie looked at him hard for an instant. "I will," he said impulsively. + +"Good!" said Nap laconically. "It isn't going to be a walk over, but I +guess we'll pull it off between us." + +"Amen!" said Bertie fervently. + +And Nap wrung his hand and departed. For the first time in their +lives there was a friendly understanding between them. For the first +time Bertie was aware of a human heart throbbing behind that +impenetrable mask. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE FINAL DEFEAT + + +It was growing late that night when Lucas opened his eyes after a +prolonged and fruitless attempt to sleep, and found Nap standing at the +foot of the bed watching him. A lamp was burning in the room, but it was +turned very low. For a few seconds he lay wondering if the motionless +figure he saw had been conjured there by some trick of the shadows. Then +as he stirred he saw it move and at once he spoke. + +"Hullo, dear fellow! You! I never heard you come in." + +Nap stepped noiselessly to his side. "Don't talk!" he said. "Sleep!" + +"I can't sleep. It's no use. I was only pretending." Lucas stifled a sigh +of weariness. "Sit down," he said. + +But Nap stood over him and laid steady hands upon his wrists. His hold +was close and vital; it pressed upon the pulses as if to give them new +life. "You can sleep if you try," he said. + +Lucas shook his head with a smile. "I'm not a good subject, Boney. Thanks +all the same!" + +"Try!" Nap said insistently. + +But the blue eyes remained wide. "No, old chap. It's too high a price to +pay--even for sleep." + +"What do you mean?" There was a fierce note in the query, low as it was; +it was almost a challenge. + +Lucas answered it very quietly. "I mean that I'm afraid of you, Boney." + +"Skittles!" said Nap. + +"Yes, it may seem so to you; but, you see, I know what you are +trying to do." + +"What am I trying to do?" demanded Nap. + +Lucas paused for a moment; he was looking straight up into the harsh face +above his own. Then, "I know you," he said. "I know that you'll get the +whip hand of me if you can, and you'll clap blinkers on me and drive me +according to your own judgment. I never had much faith in your judgment, +Boney. And it is not my intention to be driven by you." + +There was no resentment in the tired voice, only unflagging +determination. + +Nap's hold slowly relaxed. "You don't trust me then?" + +"It's your methods I don't trust, dear fellow, not your motives. I'd +trust them to perdition." + +"But not my--honour?" Nap's lips twisted over the word. + +Lucas hesitated. "I believe you would be faithful to your own code," he +said at length. + +"But you don't consider that to trick a man who trusted me would be +against that code?" + +Again Lucas hesitated, and in the silence Nap straightened himself and +stood waiting, stern, implacable, hard as granite. + +"Don't do violence to yourself," he said cynically. + +On the instant Lucas spoke, in his voice a tremor that was almost +passionate. "Boney--Boney, old chap, have I wronged you? God knows I've +tried to be just. But are you straight? Are you honest? I'd give my soul +to be able to trust you. Only--dear fellow, forgive me--I can't!" + +Nap's hands clenched. "Why not?" he said. + +"Because," very slowly and painfully Lucas made reply, "I know that you +are trying to blind me. I know that you are sacrificing yourself--and +another--in order to deceive me. You are doing it to save me pain, +but--before God, Boney--you are torturing me in the doing far more than +you realise. I'd sooner die ten times over than endure it. I can bear +most things, but not this--not this!" + +Silence followed the words, a silence that was vital with many emotions. +Nap stood upright against the lamplight. He scarcely seemed to breathe, +and yet in his very stillness there was almost a hint of violence. He did +not attempt to utter a word. + +Lucas also lay awhile without speaking, as if exhausted. Then at length +he braced himself for further effort. "It seems to me there's only one +way out, Boney," he said gently. "It's no manner of use your trying to +deceive me any longer. I happen to know what brought you back, and I'm +thankful to know it. After all, her happiness comes first with both of +us, I guess. That's why I was so almighty pleased to see you in the first +place. That's why it won't hurt me any to let her go to you." + +Nap made a sharp movement and came out of his silence. "Luke, +you're mad!" + +"No, Boney, no! I'm saner than you are. When a fellow spends his life as +I do, he has time to look all round things. He can't help knowing. And +I'm not a skunk. It never was my intention to stand between her and +happiness." + +"Happiness!" Harshly Nap echoed the word; he almost laughed over it. +"Don't you know that she only tolerates me for your sake? She wouldn't +stay within a hundred miles of me if it weren't for you." + +"Oh, shucks, Boney!" A faint smile touched the worn face on the pillow. +"I know you hurt her infernally. But she will forgive you that--women do, +you know--though I guess she would have forgiven you easier if she hadn't +loved you." + +"Man, you're wrong!" Fiercely Nap flung the words. "I tell you there is +no love between us. I killed her love long ago. And as for myself--" + +"Love doesn't die," broke in Lucas Errol quietly. "I know all about it, +Boney. Guess I've always known. And if you tell me that your love for +Anne Carfax is dead, I tell you that you lie!" Again he faintly smiled. +"But I don't like insulting you, old chap. It's poor sport anyway. +Besides, I'm wanting you. That's why--" + +He stopped abruptly. A curious change had come over Nap, a change so +unexpected, so foreign to the man's grim nature, that even he, who knew +him as did none other, was momentarily taken by surprise. For suddenly, +inexplicably, Nap's hardness had gone from him. It was like the crumbling +of a rock that had withstood the clash of many tempests and yielded at +last to the ripple of a summer tide. + +With a sudden fierce movement he dropped down upon his knees beside the +bed, flinging his arms wide over his brother's body in such an agony of +despair as Lucas had never before witnessed. + +"I wish I were dead!" he cried out passionately. "I wish to Heaven I had +never lived!" + +It was a cry wrung from the very depths of the soul, a revelation of +suffering of which Lucas had scarcely believed him capable. It opened his +eyes to much that he had before but vaguely suspected. + +He laid a hand instantly and very tenderly upon the bowed head. "Shucks, +Boney!" he remonstrated gently. "Just when you are wanted most!" + +A great sob shook Nap. "Who wants me? I'm nothing but a blot on the face +of creation, an outrage, an abomination--a curse!" + +"You're just the biggest thing in that woman's life, dear fellow," +answered the tired voice. "You hang on to that. It'll hold you up, as God +always meant it should." + +Nap made an inarticulate sound of dissent, but the quiet restraint of his +brother's touch seemed to help him. He became still under it, as if some +spell were upon him. + +After a time Lucas went on in the weary drawl that yet held such an +infinite amount of human kindness. "Did you think I'd cut you out, Boney? +Mighty lot you seem to know of me! It's true that for a time I thought +myself necessary to her. Maybe, for a time I was. She hadn't much to live +for anyway. It's true that when you didn't turn up in Arizona I left off +expecting you to be faithful to yourself or to her. And so it seemed best +to take what she gave and to try to make her as happy as circumstances +would allow. But I never imagined that I ruled supreme. I know too well +that what a woman has given once she can never give again. I didn't +expect it of her. I never asked it. She gave me what she could, and I--I +did the same for her. But that bargain wouldn't satisfy either of us now. +No--no! We'll play the game like men--like brothers. And you must do your +part. Believe me, Boney, I desire nothing so earnestly as her happiness, +and if when I come to die I have helped to make this one woman happy, +then I shall not have lived in vain." + +Nap turned his head sharply. "Don't talk of dying! You couldn't die! And +do you seriously imagine for a single instant that I could ever give her +happiness?" + +"I imagine so, dear fellow, since she loves you." + +"I tell you she wouldn't have me if I asked her." + +"You don't know. Anyway, she must have the chance. If she doesn't take +it, well, she isn't the woman I imagine her to be." + +"She's a saint," Nap said, with vehemence. "And you, Luke,--you're +another. You were made for each other. She would be ten million times +happier with you. Why do you want her to marry a blackguard?" + +A shadow touched Lucas Errol's face, but it was only for an instant; the +next he smiled. "You are not a blackguard, Boney. I always said so. And +the love of a good woman will be your salvation. No, you're wrong. I +couldn't give her real happiness. There is only one man in the world can +give her that. And I--am not that man." He paused; his eyelids had begun +to droop, heavily. "Say, Nap, I believe I could sleep now," he said. + +"Yes, yes, old chap, you shall." Nap raised himself abruptly, banishing +his weakness in a breath; only a certain unwonted gentleness remained. +"You shall," he said again. "Guess you won't be afraid now you have got +your own way. But just one thing more. You'll be wanting all your +strength for yourself for the next few weeks. Will you--for my sake if +you like--put all this by till you are winning out on the other side? She +would say the same, if she knew." + +Lucas opened his eyes again, opened them wide, and fixed them steadily, +searchingly, upon his brother's face. + +"You'll play the straight game with me, Boney?" he questioned. "You won't +try to back out?" Then, in a different tone, "No, don't, answer! Forgive +me for asking! I know you." + +"I guess you do," Nap said, with the ghost of a smile, "better even than +I know myself. You know just how little I am to be trusted." + +"I trust you, Boney, absolutely, implicitly, from the bottom of my soul." + +The words left Lucas Errol's lips with something of the solemnity of an +oath. He held out a quiet hand. + +"Now let me sleep," he said. + +Nap rose. He stood for a moment in silence, holding the friendly hand, as +if he wished to speak, but could not. Then suddenly he bent. + +"Good-night, dear chap!" he said in a whisper, and with the words he +stooped and kissed the lined forehead of the man who trusted him.... + +Half an hour later the door of the adjoining room opened noiselessly and +Tawny Hudson peered in. + +One brother was sleeping, the quiet, refreshing sleep of a mind at rest. +The other sat watching by his side with fixed inscrutable eyes. + +The latter did not stir, though in some indefinable way he made Tawny +Hudson know that he was aware of his presence, and did not desire his +closer proximity. Obedient to the unspoken command, the man did not come +beyond the threshold; but he stood there for many seconds, glowering with +the eyes of a monstrous, malignant baboon. + +When at length he retired he left the door ajar, and a very curious smile +flickered across Nap's face. + +But still he did not turn his head. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT THE GATE OF DEATH + + +The second time that Tawny Hudson was driven from his master's side was +on a day of splendid spring--English April at its best. + +Till the very last moment he lingered, and it was Lucas himself with his +final "Go, Tawny!" who sent him from the room. They would not even let +him wait, as Nap was waiting, till the anaesthetic had done its work. +Black hatred gripped the man's heart as he crept away. What was Nap +anyway that he should be thus honoured? The cloud that had attended his +coming had made a deep impression upon Hudson. He had watched the lines +upon his master's face till he knew them by heart. He knew when anxiety +kept the weary eyes from closing. He knew when the effort of the mind was +more than the body could endure. Of Lucas's pleasure at his brother's +return he raised no question, but that it would have been infinitely +better for him had Nap remained away he was firmly convinced. And he knew +with the sure intuition that unceasing vigilance had developed in him +that Capper thought the same. + +Capper resented as he did the intrusion of the black sheep of the +family. But Capper was obviously powerless--even Capper, who so +ruthlessly expelled him from his master's presence, had proved impotent +when it came to removing Nap. + +There was a mysterious force about Nap that no one seemed able to +resist. He, Hudson, had felt it a hundred times, had bowed to it in +spite of himself. He called it black magic in his own dark heart, and +because of it his hatred almost amounted to a mania. He regarded him +with superstition, as a devilish being endowed with hellish powers that +might at any moment be directed against his enemies. And he feared his +influence over Lucas, even though with all his monstrous imaginings he +recognised the fact of Lucas's ascendency. He had a morbid dread lest +some day his master should be taken unawares, for in Nap's devotion he +placed not a particle of faith. And mingled with his fears was a +burning jealousy that kept hatred perpetually alive. There was not one +of the duties that he performed for his master that Nap had not at one +time or another performed, more swiftly, more satisfactorily, with that +devilish deftness of his that even Capper had to admire and Hudson +could never hope to achieve. And in his inner soul the man knew that +the master he idolised preferred Nap's ministrations, Nap's sure and +dexterous touch, to his. + +And so on that day of riotous spring he waited with murder in his heart +to see his enemy emerge from the closed room. + +But he waited in vain. No hand touched the door against which he stood. +Within the room he heard only vague movements, and now and then Capper's +voice, sharp and distinct, giving a curt order. Two doctors and two +nurses were there to do his bidding, to aid him in the working of his +miracle; two doctors, two nurses, and Nap. + +Gradually as the minutes passed the truth dawned upon the great +half-breed waiting outside. Against Capper's wish, probably in defiance +of it, Nap was remaining for the operation itself. Suspicion deepened +swiftly to conviction, and a spasm of indignation akin to frenzy took +possession of the man. Doubtless Capper had remonstrated without result, +but he--he, Tawny Hudson--could compel. Fiercely he turned and pulled the +handle of the door. + +It resisted him. He had not heard the key turned upon him, yet undeniably +the door was locked. Fury entered into him. Doubtless this also was the +work of his enemy. He seized the handle, twisted, dragged, wrenched, till +it broke in his hand and he was powerless. + +No one within the room paid any attention to him. No one came to open; +and this fact served to inflame him further. For a few lurid moments +Tawny Hudson saw red. He gathered his huge bull-frame together and flung +the whole weight of it against the resisting wood. He was powerless to +force the lock, as the door opened towards him, but this fact did not +discourage him. It scarcely entered into his reckoning. He was nothing at +the moment but a savage beast beyond all reasoning and beyond control. + +The panels resisted his violent onslaught, but he was undaunted. With +scarcely a pause he drew off and prepared for another. But at the very +instant that he was about to hurl himself the second time, a voice spoke +on the other side of the door. + +"Tawny!" + +Tawny stood as if transfixed, his eyes starting, bestial foam upon his +lips. + +"Tawny!" said the voice again--the voice of his enemy, curt and +imperious. "Go and find Mr. Bertie, and tell him he is wanted." + +Through the closed door the magic reached the frenzied man. He remained +motionless for a few seconds, but the order was not repeated. At the end +of the interval the magic had done its work. He turned and slunk away. + +A minute later Bertie, very pale and stern, presented himself at the +closed door. + +"What is it, Nap?" + +Contemptuously clear came the answer. "Nothing here. Stay where you are, +that's all, and keep that all-fired fool Hudson from spoiling his +master's chances." + +Bertie turned to look at the man who had come up behind him, and in +turning saw the door-handle at his feet. + +He pointed to it. "Your doing?" + +Hudson shrank under the accusing blue eyes so like his master's. He began +to whimper like a beaten dog. + +Bertie picked up the knob. "Poor devil!" he muttered; and then aloud: +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Do you call this a man's game?" + +Tawny cringed in abject misery. He was completely subdued. With the +smallest encouragement he would have grovelled at Bertie's feet. + +Bertie came away from the door and sat down. His own anxiety was almost +insupportable, but he cloaked it with determined resolution. "Sit down +there!" he said, pointing to a distant chair. "And don't move until I +give you leave." + +Meekly the man obeyed him, sitting crouched, his head between his hands. + +Bertie regarded him with a severity more assumed than actual. He had not +the heart to send him away. He knew it would have been sheer cruelty. + +A long time passed. Neither of the two watchers stirred. Tawny Hudson did +not even seem to breathe. He sat like a human image of despair. + +Noon came and passed. Somewhere in the distance church bells began to +peal. Bertie started a little. He had forgotten it was Sunday. Dot would +be just driving home from church. She would not come to Baronmead, he +knew. It had been her original intention, but he had dissuaded her. He +knew that she was very anxious, but he would not have her run the risk of +a shock. If the operation failed, if Luke were to die, he would tell her +himself. He knew that he could soften the blow as none other could. + +It was nearly one when at last the closed door opened. Bertie was on his +feet in an instant. Dr. Randal came quietly out, glanced round, stopped. + +"It is over. We have taken him into the inner room, and he is recovering +consciousness. No, don't go to him. His man mustn't go either. We want +all these doors open, wide open, the windows too. But no one is to go +near. He must have absolute quiet." + +He propped open the door as he spoke. His face was very grave. + +"Remember," he said, "that the banging of this door or any sudden sound +may mean the end." + +"Is he so bad then?" said Bertie, speaking with effort. + +"He is very bad indeed," the doctor answered. "The operation has been a +protracted one. If he lives, it will be a success. But there is great +weakness of the heart's action. Any moment may be the last. Dr. Capper +will not leave him at present. Your brother is there too." He paused a +moment. "Your brother is a wonderful man," he said, with the air of a man +bestowing praise against his will. "If you will be good enough to order +some refreshment I will take it in. On no account is Mr. Errol's servant +to go near." + +Slowly the hours of a day that seemed endless dragged away. Bertie went +home to his wife in the afternoon, taking Tawny Hudson, subdued and +wretched, with him. + +In the evening he returned, the man still following him like a pariah +dog, to find the situation unaltered. Capper and Nap were still with +Lucas, whose life hung by a thread. + +Bertie decided to remain for the night, and at a late hour he saw Capper +for a moment. The great man's face was drawn and haggard. + +"He won't last through the night," he said. "Tell the ladies to be in +readiness. I will send for them if there is time." + +"No hope whatever?" said Bertie. + +Capper shook his head. "I fear--none. He is just running down--sinking. I +think you had better not come in, but stay within call." + +He was gone again, and Bertie was left to give his message, and then to +wait in anguish of spirit for the final call. + +The night was still. Only the draught from the wide-flung doors and +windows stirred through the quiet rooms. Mrs. Errol and Anne shared +Bertie's vigil in the room that opened out of that in which Lucas Errol +was making his last stand. Humbly, in a corner, huddled Tawny Hudson, +rocking himself, but making no sound. + +Within the room Capper sat at the foot of the bed, motionless, alert as +a sentry. A nurse stood like a statue, holding back the bellying +window-curtain. And on his knees beside the bed, the inert wrists gripped +close in his sinewy fingers, was Nap. + +The light of a shaded lamp shone upon his dusky face, showing the gleam +of his watchful eyes, the crude lines of jaw and cheek-bone. He looked +like a figure carved in bronze. + +For hours he had knelt so in unceasing vigilance, gazing unblinking +and tireless at the exhausted face upon the pillow. It might have been +the face of a dead man upon which he gazed, but the pulses that +fluttered in his hold told him otherwise. Lucas still held feebly, +feebly, to his chain. + +It was nearly an hour after midnight that a voice spoke in the +utter silence. + +"Boney!" + +"I'm here, old chap." + +"Good-bye, dear fellow!" It was scarcely more than a whisper. It seemed +to come from closed lips. + +"Open your eyes," said Nap. + +Slowly the heavy lids opened. The blue eyes met the deep, mysterious gaze +focussed upon them. + +Silent as a ghost Capper glided forward. The nurse left the window, and +the curtain floated out into the room, fluttering like an imprisoned +thing seeking to escape. + +"Ah, but, Boney--" the tired voice said, as though in protest. + +And Nap's voice, thrilled through and through with a tenderness that was +more than human, made answer. "Just a little longer, dear old man! Only a +little longer! See! I'm holding you up. Turn up the lamp, doctor. Take +off the shade. He can't see me. There, old chap! Look at me now. Grip +hold of me. You can't go yet. I'm with you. I'm holding you back." + +Capper trickled something out of a spoon between the pale lips, and for a +little there was silence. + +But the blue eyes remained wide, fixed upon those other fiery eyes that +held them by some mysterious magic from falling into sightlessness. + +Three figures had come in through the open door, moving wraith-like, +silently. The room seemed full of shadows. + +After a while Lucas spoke again, and this time his lips moved +perceptibly. "It's such a long way back, Boney,--no end of a trail--and +all up hill." + +The flare of the lamp was full upon Nap's face; it threw the harsh lines +into strong relief, and it seemed to Anne, watching, that she looked upon +the face of a man in extremity. His voice too--was that Nap's voice +pleading so desperately? + +"Don't be faint-hearted, old chap! I'll haul you up. It won't be so tough +presently. You're through the worst already. Hold on, Luke, hold on!" + +Again Capper poured something between the parted lips, and a quiver ran +through the powerless body. + +"Hold on!" Nap repeated. "You promised you would. You mustn't go yet, old +boy. You can't be spared. I shall go to the devil without you." + +"Not you, Boney!" Lucas's lips quivered into a smile. "That's all over," +he said. "You're playing--the straight game--now." + +"You must stay and see it through," said Nap. "I can't win out +without you." + +"Ah!" A long sigh came pantingly with the word. "That so, Boney? Guess +I'm--a selfish brute--always was--always was." + +A choked sob came through the stillness. Bertie suddenly covered his +face. Mrs. Errol put her arm round him as one who comforted a child. + +"Is that--someone--crying?" gasped Lucas. + +"It's that ass Bertie," answered Nap, without stirring so much as +an eyelid. + +"Bertie? Poor old chap! Tell him he mustn't. Tell him--I'll hang on--a +little longer--God willing; but only a little longer, Boney, only--a +little--longer." + +There was pleading in the voice, the pleading of a man unutterably tired +and longing to be at rest. + +Anne, standing apart, was cut to the heart with the pathos of it. But Nap +did not seem to feel it. He knelt on, inflexible, determined, all his +iron will, all his fiery vitality, concentrated upon holding a man in +life. It was not all magnetism, it was not all strength of purpose, it +was his whole being grappling, striving, compelling, till inch by inch he +gained a desperate victory. + +In the morning the fight was over. In the morning Lucas Errol had turned, +reluctantly as it seemed to Anne, from the Gate of Death. + +And while he lay sleeping quietly, the spring air, pure and life-giving, +blowing across his face, the man who had brought him back rose up from +his bedside, crept with a noiseless, swaying motion from the room, and +sank senseless on the further side of the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE KING'S DECREE + + +For three weeks after the operation Capper said nothing good or bad of +his patient's condition, and during those weeks he scarcely went beyond +the terrace. He moved about like a man absorbed, and it seemed to Anne +whenever they met that he looked at her without seeing her. + +Nap was even closer in his attendance, and Tawny Hudson found himself +more than ever supplanted and ignored. For night and day he was at hand, +sleeping when and how he could, always alert at the briefest notice, +always ready with unfailing nerve and steady hand. + +And Capper suffered him without the smallest remonstrance. He seemed to +take it for granted that Nap's powers were illimitable. + +"That young man will kill himself," Dr. Randal said once. "He is living +at perpetual high pressure." + +"Leave him alone," growled Capper. "He is the force that drives the +engine. The wheels won't go round without him." + +And this seemed true; for the wheels went round very, very slowly in +those days. Lucas Errol came back to life, urged by a vitality not his +own, and the Shadow of Death still lingered in his eyes. + +He did not suffer very greatly, and he slept as he had not slept for +years, but his progress was slow, sometimes imperceptible. The languor of +intense weakness hung like a leaden weight upon him. The old brave +cheeriness had given place to a certain curious wistfulness. He seemed +too weary for effort, content at all times to sleep the hours away. + +Yet when Capper demanded effort he yielded without protest. He did his +best, and he smiled at each evidence of returning powers. + +"I guess it's just an almighty success, doctor," he would say. "And +you've given me sleep into the bargain. It's blessed to be able to sleep. +I've a good many years of arrears to make up." + +On the day that Capper and Nap set him on his feet for the first time, +his weakness was such that he fainted; but he recovered and apologised, +and would even have faced the ordeal again had Capper permitted it. On +the following day he went through it without a tremor, and slept +thereafter for hours, scarcely rousing himself for nourishment. + +It was during that sleep that Nap left him, went out into the spring +woods, and remained absent for some time. Lucas was still sleeping when +he returned, and after a brief look at him he moved away into the +adjoining room and prowled to and fro there waiting. + +At the first sound of his brother's voice he was back by the bedside. + +Lucas smiled a welcome. "I'm better," he said, and held up a weak hand. + +It was the first time he had made the assertion. Nap took the hand and +laid it gently down. + +"You'll get well now," he said. + +The heavy drowsiness was less apparent than usual on Lucas's face. "I +don't know where I'd be without you, Boney," he said. "Do you know you're +looking awfully ill?" + +"Shucks!" said Nap. + +But Lucas continued his criticism undeterred. + +"You've spent too much of yourself on me, and I've been too damned +selfish to notice. I'm going to wake up now, Boney. I'm going to play the +game. You've been playing my hand as well as your own till now. I'm going +to relieve you of that." + +"Hear, hear!" said Nap. + +"You'll go to bed in your own room to-night," said Lucas, "go to bed and +to sleep. In the morning we'll have a talk." + +But when the morning came, his energy had flagged a little. He had not +slept as well as usual, and though he had no pain he seemed disinclined +for physical effort. + +"I want a holiday to-day," he said to Capper. "Just let in the sunshine +and leave me to bask." + +There had been a spell of cold and sunless weather, but that day the sun +shone gloriously. The genial warmth of it came in through the open +window and flooded the room with the very essence of spring. + +"I'm going to take a day off and enjoy it," smiled Lucas. "You take a day +off too, doctor. Make the mater go out in the car. I shall do wonders +to-morrow after a good laze to-day." + +Capper looked him over keenly, pulled his beard, cracked his fingers, and +yielded. "Guess a rest won't do you any harm. There's no reason to hustle +you any that I can see." + +And Lucas spent the whole morning basking in the sunshine in almost +unbroken silence. He did not sleep at all. His eyes, remote and +thoughtful, were for the most part watching the specks that danced and +floated in the rays of light that streamed across his bed. + +Nap forebore to disturb him, but he remained within call. He knew with +sure intuition that sooner or later Lucas would summon him. Almost he +knew what he would say. + +The call came at last, very quiet and deliberate. "Boney!" + +Instantly Nap presented himself. + +"Come here a minute, old chap. No, I'm not wanting anything--only a word +in private. Say, Boney, is Anne still stopping here?" + +He had seen her nearly every day since the operation, but he had been too +drowsy to ask any questions. He had only smiled upon her, and sometimes +for a little had held her hand. + +"She is backwards and forwards," said Nap. "I believe she is spending +to-night." + +"Ah! Then, Boney, I want you to speak to her--to-night." He looked up at +his brother with his old, kindly smile. "It's for my own sake, old chap," +he said. "You know, I didn't sleep last night. I was thinking about +her--about you both. And I want her to know everything to-night. I shall +sleep the easier when she knows." + +Nap stood silent. His face was set in hard lines. + +"Will you tell her, Boney?" + +"What am I to tell her?" said Nap, + +"Tell her the truth, dear fellow, so that she understands it. Make her +realise that the dearest wish of my life is her happiness--and yours." He +reached up a hand to the motionless figure beside him. "Just this one +thing, Boney," he pleaded gently. "Remember--I came back because of it. +It will be my happiness too. I want to feel that all is well between you. +God knows I want it more than anything else on earth." + +Nap gripped the proffered hand and held it fast. + +"But she won't have me, you know," he said, after a moment. "She only +forgave me because of you." + +"Shucks, dear fellow! I guess that wasn't the reason." + +"I wish to heaven you'd let me off," Nap said, with sudden +vehemence. "Let me shunt first instead of last. It's more than I +can face--even for you." + +"But I guess you'll face it all the same," said Lucas gently. "And when +it's over, come--both of you--and tell me." + +He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sunshine. "So long, old +chap!" he said. "Don't stay indoors. I'm not wanting you. Think I'll get +to sleep presently. Don't let them wake me if I do." + +But Nap lingered, still holding his hand. "Luke!" he said. + +There was a note of entreaty in his voice, but, for the second time in +his life, Lucas turned a deaf ear. The smile was still on his lips, but +his eyes remained closed. + +"Go, dear fellow!" he said softly. "And God bless you!" + +And Nap turned with a set face and went straight from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE STRAIGHT GAME + + +It was drawing towards evening on that same day when Anne, who had been +spending the afternoon at the Dower House, walked back across the park. +She went by way of the stream along which she and Nap had once skated +hand in hand in the moonlight, and as she went she stooped now and then +to gather the flowers that grew in the grass beside her path. But her +face as she did it was grave and thoughtful. She did not seem to notice +their fragrance. + +As she neared the lake she moved more slowly, and reaching a rustic seat +beneath a cedar that shadowed the entrance to the gardens she sat down, +her grey eyes fixed upon the water that gurgled at her feet. + +A brilliant green dragon-fly, darting meteor-like across her vision, came +presently to disturb her reverie. With a slight start she awoke, and +leaned forward with an odd eagerness to mark its progress. As it flashed +away through the shadows a quick sigh came to her lips. It was so fair a +thing, so swiftly gone. + +She gathered up her flowers and rose. And in that moment she knew that +she was not alone. + +How she knew it she could not have said. No sound or shadow told her. No +hand touched her. Yet she knew. + +For a few seconds she stood motionless on the edge of the stream. Then +without turning she spoke. + +"Were you looking for me?" + +"Yes," he said. + +He came to her side. They were close--close to that spot where once he +had so arrogantly claimed her friendship. To-day it seemed he had no +word to utter. + +For a space she waited, then, finding in his silence something that +disquieted her, she spoke again. + +"Is all well? Why are you not with Lucas?" + +"All's well," he said, but he left her second question unanswered. He was +gazing down intently into the clear water. + +Seconds passed. She glanced at him once or twice, but he seemed unaware +of her scrutiny. He made no movement to meet it. His dark face brooded +over the stream, almost as if she were not there. + +Her heart began to throb with thick, uneven strokes. What had he come to +say to her? And why did he stand thus silent? There was something tragic +about him, something almost terrible. + +She waited beside him in wordless foreboding. Whatever was coming she +felt powerless to avert. She could only brace herself to meet the +inevitable. + +In some fashion, though he never glanced her way, he must have been aware +of her agitation, for when he spoke again there was some measure of +reassurance in his voice, emotionless though it was. + +"I shan't alarm you," he said. "I shan't even ask you to answer me, much +less to treat me kindly. But you've got to hear me, that's all. I'm not +telling you for my own sake, only because Luke has ordained that you must +know. I daresay you thought it strange that I should have come back so +soon. It probably made you wonder." + +"It did," said Anne, in a low voice. + +"I knew it would." A note of grim satisfaction sounded in the rejoinder. +He jerked his head a little with a touch of the old arrogance. "Well, I +am here to explain. I knew the odds were dead against me when I +started--as they are to-day. All the same you are to understand that I +came back when I did because I had just heard that you were free and I +was mad enough to dream that in spite of everything I should one day +persuade you to marry me." + +He paused an instant, but he kept his eyes upon the water as if he were +reading something in the crystal depths. + +Anne still waited beside him, her hands clasped tightly upon her +drooping flowers. + +He continued very rapidly, as though he wished to have done. "That was +my true reason for coming back. I don't know if I deceived you any on +that point. I tried to. But anyway I didn't manage to deceive Lucas. He +sees most things. He knows for instance that I--care for you"--almost +angrily he flung the words--"and he thinks you ought to know it, in +case"--his lips twisted into a queer smile--"you care for me. It's a +preposterous idea anyway. I've told him so. But he won't be easy till +I've given you the chance to trample on me. Guess he thinks I owe you +that. Maybe I do. Well--you have your opportunity." + +"Do you think I want--that?" Anne said, her voice very low. + +His hands clenched. "I can't say," he said. "Most women would. But--if +you want to know--I'd sooner be trampled. I've promised I'll play the +straight game, and I'm playing it. I'm telling you the raw truth. I love +you. I have it in me to make you know it. But--" + +"But you love Lucas better" she said. + +He nodded. "Just that. Also, Lucas is a good man. He will set your +happiness first all his life. While I--while I"--he stooped a little, +still staring downwards as if he watched something--"while I, Lady +Carfax," he said, speaking very quietly, "might possibly succeed in +making you happy, but it wouldn't be the same thing. You would have to +live my life--not I yours. I am not like Lucas. I shouldn't be satisfied +with--a little." + +"And you think that is all I can offer him?" she said. + +He made a sharp gesture of repudiation. "I have no theories on that +subject. I believe you would satisfy him. I believe--ultimately--you +would both find the happiness we are all hunting for." + +"And you?" Anne said, her voice very low. + +He straightened himself with a backward fling of the shoulders, but still +he did not look at her. "I, Lady Carfax!" he said grimly. "I don't fit +into the scheme of things anyway. I was just pitchforked into your life +by an accident. It's for you to toss me out again." + +Anne was silent. She stood with her face to the sinking sun. She seemed +to be gathering her strength. + +At last, "What will you do?" she asked in the same hushed voice. "Where +will you go?" + +He turned slowly towards her. "I really don't know. I haven't begun +to think." + +His eyes looked deeply into hers, but they held no passion, no emotion of +any sort. They made her think with a sudden intolerable stab of pain of +that night when he had put out the fire of his passion to receive her +kiss. He had told her once that that kiss was the greatest thing that had +ever happened to him. Did he remember it now, she wondered, as she met +those brooding eyes, still and dark and lonely as they had been then, +unfathomable as a mountain pool. She did not fear to meet them. Only a +vast, surging pity filled her soul. She understood him so well--so well. + +"Nap," she said tremulously, "what can I say to you? What can I do?" + +He put out a quiet, unfaltering hand and took hers. "Don't be too good to +me," he said. "Don't worry any on my account. If you do, maybe Luke will +notice and misunderstand. He's so damnably shrewd." A brief smile crossed +his face. "I'll tell you what to do, Lady Carfax, and when it's done +you'll feel better. Come with me now to Lucas--it's his own idea--and +tell him you've no use for me. Put it how you like. Women can always do +these things. Make him know that he comes first with you still and always +will. Tell him you know all the truth and it hasn't made you change your +mind. Tell him you'd rather belong to a man you can trust. He'll believe +you, Anne. We all do." + +He spoke insistently. He had begun to draw her towards the path. But as +they reached it, his hand fell from hers. He walked beside her, close +beside her, but not by word or touch did he seek further to persuade her. + +And Anne walked steadily forward as one in a dream. It was the only thing +to do, since he had told her plainly that he desired it, since with both +of them Luke must for ever come first. He had drawn them together, he had +linked their hands, but he stood between them to do it, and neither of +them would suffer him to go. + +She supposed they would be friends again, she and Nap. She did not fear +that he would ever again cross the boundary line. His love for his +brother ran like a purifying current through his veins. It was the one +streak of greatness in him. Its very selflessness made it stronger than +his love for her. She knew with a certainty that nought could ever shake +that he would be true to Lucas, that never again by word or sign would he +betray that for which he had not scrupled to play her false. + +And because she was a woman and understood him she forgave him this. For +she knew that the greater loyalty had done for him that which she had +failed to do. She knew that in uttermost self-sacrifice Nap Errol, the +savage, the merciless, the treacherous, had found his soul. + +So side by side in silence they went back to the house. + +The evening was very still; passing in from the terrace they seemed to +enter an enchanted palace wherein nothing stirred. + +"He may be asleep," Nap said. "Shall I go first?" + +She assented without speaking. Somehow the spell of silence seemed to +hold her also. + +Tawny Hudson was on guard as usual in the outer room. He looked up with +resentful eyes as they entered, but he said nothing. The door into his +master's room stood half open. Nap paused at it a moment to listen. He +turned to Anne, and she fancied just for a second that there was a +shade of anxiety on his face. But it was gone instantly, if indeed it +had been there. + +"Follow me in a minute," he said, "if I don't come back." + +And with that he glided through the narrow space and passed from sight. + +A minute later, absolute silence reigning, Anne softly pushed back the +door and entered. + +She found Nap crouched motionless with outflung arms across the foot +of the bed. + +And drawing nearer, she saw that Lucas Errol was lying asleep with his +face to the sky, all the lines of pain smoothed utterly away, and on his +lips that smile which some call the Stamp of Death, and others the +shining reflection of the Resurrection Glory which the passing soul has +left behind. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE TRANSFORMING MAGIC + + +No clamour of mourning broke the spell of silence that lay upon +Baronmead. Those who wept hid their grief behind closed doors. But those +to whom Lucas was dearest shed the fewest tears. His mother went about +with a calmness of aspect that never faltered. She and Anne were very +close to each other in those days though but few words passed between +them. A hush that was like a benediction brooded upon the silent house. +They could not weep. + +Once, standing in the hallowed stillness beside her dead, Mrs. Errol +turned to Anne, saying softly: "The dear Lord knows best, dear. We +wouldn't call him back. He wouldn't want to come." + +And later she told her gently that she had known ever since the operation +that the end was near. + +"It was in his eyes," she said. "I know that look so well. Dr. Capper +knew it too. And so, I'm sure, did the dear boy himself. That waiting, +far-off look as if the soul were listening, didn't you see it, dear? I +only wondered that he stayed so long." + +Yes, Anne had seen it. She knew it now. Though he had smiled upon her, +though he had held her hand, she knew that all human longing had died in +Lucas Errol's soul on the night that he had gone down to the Gate of +Death and Nap had drawn him back. He had slackened his hold upon things +earthly that night, and though he had come back a little way, it had been +as a spectator only that he lingered, no more as one who took an active +part in the drama of mortal life. His _role_ was played; she realised now +that he must have known it, and that he had not wished it otherwise. He +had not died with that kingly smile upon his lips if he had not been +content to die. That was why grief seemed to her impossible. That was why +the peace in which he lay, wrapped tenderly around her tired heart also +and gave her rest. + +Of Nap during those days of silence she saw nothing whatever. He had +risen from his brother's death-bed with a face of stony aloofness, and +had gone swiftly out, she knew not whither. Since that moment she had +scarcely seen him. He spent his time out of the house, somewhere away in +the woods she believed, out of reach of any human observation, not even +returning at night. Once only in the early morning she saw him cross the +stretch of lawn in front of the lake and enter by a side door. But her +glimpse of him was of the briefest. She did not see his face. + +Upon Bertie devolved all the duties of the head of the household, but +his mother was ready at every turn to help him. She was more to him +during those few days than she had ever been before. Capper also, +remaining for the funeral, placed himself at his disposal and did much to +lighten the burden. + +Capper indeed helped everyone, and Anne always remembered with gratitude +a few moments that she had alone with him on the evening before the +funeral, when he laid a fatherly hand upon her shoulder to say: "My dear, +I don't know if you're fretting any, but you've no cause to fret. I know +now that it couldn't have been otherwise. If you'd been his wife you +couldn't have kept him." + +She thanked him with a look. She believed that Capper understood, and she +was glad that it should be so. She fancied also that his opinion +regarding Nap had undergone a change, but she hesitated to touch upon the +subject, and the moment passed. + +Up to the last minute she was doubtful as to whether Nap would attend his +brother's funeral. She herself went because Mrs. Errol desired to go. She +walked with Capper immediately behind Bertie and his mother. Neither of +them seemed to expect Nap, or even to think of him. His movements were +always sudden and generally unaccountable. But she knew that his absence +would cause comment in the neighbourhood, and though she also knew that +Nap would care nothing for that, she earnestly hoped that he would not +give occasion for it. + +Nevertheless the procession started without him, and she had almost +ceased to hope when he suddenly appeared from nowhere as it seemed to +her, and walked on her other side. + +She heard Capper give a grunt, whether of approval or otherwise she did +not know, but not a word was said. She glanced once at Nap, but his face +was sphinx-like, utterly unresponsive. He stared straight ahead, with +eyes that never varied, at the coffin that was being borne upon men's +shoulders to its quiet resting-place in the village churchyard, and +throughout the journey thither his expression remained unaltered. + +At the gate Bertie suddenly turned and motioned him forward, and they +entered the church together. Later, by the open grave, Anne saw that +Bertie was leaning on Nap's shoulder, while his mother stood apart with +her face to the sky; and she knew that the feud between them had been +laid at last and for ever by the man who had ruled supreme in the hearts +of all who knew him. + +When all was over, Nap disappeared, and she saw no more of him till the +evening when for the first time he came to the dinner-table. Capper was +leaving early on the following day, and it was to this fact that Anne +attributed his appearance. + +Bertie dined at home, but he walked over later to take leave of Capper. +They sat together in the hall, with the door wide open, for the night +was as warm as summer. + +Mrs. Errol had gone to her room immediately after dinner, but Anne +remained at Capper's request. + +"I shan't see much more of you," he said. + +They talked but little however. Nap sat smoking in a corner and hardly +opened his lips. Bertie came in late, looking worn and miserable. + +"I wish you would tell me what to do with Tawny Hudson," he said. "I +believe the fellow's crazy; and he's pining too. I don't believe he has +eaten anything for days." + +Since Lucas's death Tawny Hudson had attached himself to Bertie, +following him to and fro like a lost dog, somewhat to Dot's dismay; for, +deeply though she pitied the great half-breed, there was something about +him that frightened her. + +"I don't know what to do with him," Bertie said. "He's as gaunt as a +wolf. He's hanging about somewhere outside now. Wish you'd take him along +to America with you, Doctor." + +"Call him in," said Capper, "and let me have a look at him." + +Bertie went to the door and whistled. + +There was no reply. + +"Hudson!" he called. "Tawny! where are you?" + +But there came no answer out of the shadows. The only voice which Tawny +would obey was still. + +Bertie came back baffled. "Confound the fellow! I know he's +within hail." + +"Leave the brute alone!" said Nap. "He isn't worth much anyway." + +"But I can't let him die," said Bertie. + +Nap looked contemptuous, and relapsed into silence. + +"I'll take him back with me if you're wanting to be rid of him," said +Capper. "Tell him so if you get the chance." + +"Thanks!" said Bertie. "But I don't believe he'll budge. Nap will be +crossing next week. P'r'aps I shall persuade him to go then." He looked +across at Nap. "I know you don't like the fellow, but it wouldn't be +for long." + +"Probably not," said Nap, staring fixedly at the end of his cigar. + +Something in his tone made Anne glance at him, but as usual his face told +her nothing. She saw only that his eyes were drawn as if with long +watching, and that the cynical lines about his mouth were more grimly +pronounced than she had ever seen them before. + +Not long after, Bertie got up to go. His farewell to Capper was spoken +almost in a whisper, and Anne saw that his self-control was precarious. +When he shook hands with her he was beyond speech. She was glad to see +Nap rise and accompany him, with a friendly hand pushed through his arm. + +For nearly half an hour longer she sat on with Capper; then at length +she rose to go. + +"I shall see you in the morning," she said, pausing. + +"I am making an early start," said Capper. + +She smiled. "I shall see you all the same. Good-night." + +Capper kept her hand in his, his green eyes running over her with elusive +intentness. "Wonder what you'll do," he said abruptly. + +She met his look quite simply. "For the present," she said, "I must be +with Mrs. Errol. Later on--next month--she will no doubt go to the Dower +House, and I shall go back to the Manor." + +"Don't mope!" he said. + +She smiled again with a short sigh. "I shall be too busy for that." + +"That so?" Capper drew his brows together. "Lady Carfax, at risk of +offending you, I've something to say." + +"You will not offend me," she answered. "And I think I know what it is." + +"Very possibly you do, but I guess I'd better say it all the same. You +may remember a talk we had at the commencement of our acquaintance, +regarding Nap. I told you he was just a wild animal, untamable, +untrustworthy. Well, you have proved me wrong. You have worked a +miracle, and you have tamed him. Lucas himself told me about it the day +before he died." + +"Oh, no!" Anne said quickly and earnestly. "It was Lucas who worked the +miracle, Doctor. The magic was his." + +"Guess he wouldn't have done it single-handed," said Capper. "He'd +been trying as long as I had known him, and he hadn't succeeded." He +paused, looking at her with great kindness. Then: "My dear," he said, +"you needn't be afraid to trust yourself to him. He will never let you +down again." + +Anne stood silent, but under his look a deep flush rose and overspread +her face. She turned her eyes away. + +Very gently Capper patted her shoulder. "You've made a man of him between +you," he said. "Lucas has left the developing process to you." + +"Ah!" she said wistfully, and that was all, for her eyes were suddenly +full of tears. + +She went to the door and stood there for several seconds. The voice of a +nightingale thrilled through the silence. Was it only a year--only a +year--since the veil had been rent from her eyes? Only a year since first +her heart had throbbed to "the everlasting Wonder Song"? She felt as if +eons had passed over her, as if the solitude of ages wrapped her round; +and yet afar off, like dream music in her soul, she still heard its +echoes pulsing across the desert. It held her like a charm. + +Slowly her tears passed. There came again to her that curious sense of +something drawing her, almost as of a voice that called. The garden lay +still and mysterious in the moonlight. She caught its gleam upon a +corner of the lake where it shone like a wedge of silver. + +A few seconds she stood irresolute; then without word or backward glance +she stepped down into the magic silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LAST ORDEAL + + +What impulse she obeyed she knew not; only she wanted to hear the +nightingale, to drink in the fragrance, to feel the healing balm upon her +heart. Her feet carried her noiselessly over the grass to that shining +splendour of water, and turned along the path that led past the seat +under the cedar where Nap had joined her on that evening that seemed +already far away, and had told her that he loved her still. By this path +he and Bertie would have gone to the Dower House; by this path he would +probably return alone. + +Her heart quickened a little as she passed into the deep shadow. She was +not nervous as a rule, but there was something mysterious about the +place, something vaguely disquieting. The gurgle of the stream that fed +the lake sounded curiously remote. + +She turned towards the rustic seat on which she had rested that day, and +on the instant her pulses leapt to sudden alarm. There was a stealthy +movement in front of her; a crouching object that looked monstrous in the +gloom detached itself from the shadow and began to move away. For a +moment she thought it was some animal; then there came to her the +unmistakable though muffled tread of human feet, and swift as an arrow +comprehension pierced her. The thing in front of her was Tawny Hudson. + +But why was he skulking there? Why did he seek thus to avoid her? What +was the man doing? The agitated questions raced through her brain at +lightning speed, and after them came a horrible, a sickening suspicion. + +Whence it arose she could not have said, but the memory of Nap's face +only half an hour before, when Tawny Hudson had been under discussion, +arose in her mind and confirmed it almost before she knew that it was +there. She had often suspected the half-breed of harbouring a dislike for +Nap. More often still she had noted Nap's complete and perfectly obvious +contempt for him. He had tolerated him, no more, for Lucas's sake. Was it +not highly probable that now that the restraining influence was gone the +man's animosity had flamed to hatred? And if he were really crazy, as +Bertie believed, to what lengths might he not carry it? + +Fear stabbed her, fear that was anguish. At any moment now Nap might be +returning, and if Tawny were indeed lying in wait for him-- + +She traversed the deep shadow cast by the cedar and looked forth into the +park beyond. The man had disappeared. He must have doubled back among +the trees of the shrubbery; and she knew he must be crouching somewhere +in concealment not far away, for all sound of footsteps had ceased. Did +he fancy she had not seen him, she wondered? Was he hoping that she would +turn and go back by the way she had come, leaving him free to accomplish +his purpose, whatever it might be? + +And then her heart suddenly stood still, for away in the distance, +walking with his light, swinging gait over the moonlit sward, she saw +Nap. + +In that moment her fear took definite and tangible form, and a horror of +the thing that lurked in the shadows behind her seized her, goading her +to action. She passed out into the quiet moonlight and moved to meet him. + +Her impulse was to run, but she restrained it, dreading lest she might +precipitate the disaster she feared. Hudson must not suspect her +intention, must not know of the panic at her heart. + +Nap did not see her at once. The background of trees obscured her. But +as she drew away from them he caught sight of her, and instantly +quickened his pace. + +They met scarcely fifty yards from the cedar, and breathlessly Anne +spoke. "Turn back with me a little way. I have something to say to you." + +He wheeled at once, with no show of surprise. Though he must have seen +her agitation he did not ask its cause. + +They walked several paces before Anne spoke again. "You will think me +very strange, but I have had a fright. I--I want you, Nap, to--to +understand and not think me foolish or laugh at me." + +"I couldn't do either if I tried," said Nap. "Who has been frightening +you? Tawny Hudson?" + +"Yes, Tawny Hudson." Anne was still breathless; she glanced nervously +over her shoulder. "Shall we walk a little faster? He--he is lurking in +those trees, and do you know I don't think he is safe? I think--I can't +help thinking--that he is lying in wait for you to--to do you a +mischief." + +Nap stopped dead. "That so? Then I reckon I will go and deal with +him at once." + +"Oh, no!" she gasped. "No! Nap, are you mad?" + +He gave her a queer look. "By no means, Lady Carfax, though I believe I +should be if I went any farther with you. You stay here while I go and +investigate." + +He would have left her with the words, but on the instant desperation +seized Anne. Her strained nerves would not bear this. She caught his arm, +holding him fast. + +"You must not! You shall not! Or if you do I am coming with you. You--you +are not going alone." + +"I am going alone," Nap said; but he stood still, facing her, watching +her as he had watched her on that day long ago when he had lain helpless +in her arms in the snow, the day that revelation had first come to her +shrinking heart. "I am going alone," he repeated very deliberately. "And +you will wait here till I come back." + +She felt that he was putting forth his strength to compel her, and +something within her warned her that he was stronger in that moment than +she. She did not understand his ascendency over her, but she could not +help being aware of it. Her agitated hold upon his arm began to slacken. + +"Oh, don't go!" she entreated weakly. "Please don't go! I can't bear +it. It--it's too much. Nap, if--if any harm comes to you, I--I think it +will kill me." + +There came a sudden gleam in his sombre eyes that seemed to stab her, but +it was gone instantly, before he spoke in answer. + +"Lady Carfax, you are not foolish--you are sublime! But--be wise as +well." Very quietly he extricated his arm from her clinging hands and +turned to go. "Don't watch me," he said. "Go on to the bridge and wait +for me there." + +He was gone. Blindly she obeyed him; blindly she moved towards the bridge +that spanned the stream. She was trembling so much that she could hardly +walk, but almost mechanically she urged herself on. No other course was +open to her. + +She reached the bridge, and leaned upon the handrail. She thought the +beating of her heart would suffocate her. She strained her ears to +listen, but she could hear nought else; and for a time she actually +lacked the physical strength to turn and look. + +At last, after the passage of many minutes, she summoned her sinking +courage. Faint and dizzy still, she managed to raise her head. The +moonlight danced in her eyes, but with immense effort she compelled +herself to look back. + +The next instant utter amazement seized and possessed her, dominating her +fear. Nap was standing just beyond the outspreading boughs of the cedar, +a straight relentless figure, with the arrogance of complete mastery in +every line, while at his feet grovelled and whimpered the great +half-breed, Tawny Hudson. + +Nap was speaking. She could not hear what he said, but spell-bound she +watched, while a curious sensation of awe tingled through her. The man +was so superbly self-confident. + +Suddenly she saw him stoop and take something from his prostrate enemy. A +sharp doubt assailed her. She saw the wretched Tawny cringe lower and +cover his face. She saw the moonlight glint upon the thing in Nap's hand. + +He seemed to be considering it, for he turned it this way and that, +making it flash and flash again. And then abruptly, with a swift turn of +the wrist, he spun it high into the air. It made a shining curve, and +fell with a splash into the stream. She saw the widening ripples from +where she stood. + +But she did not stay to watch them. Her attention was focussed upon the +scene that was being enacted before her. + +It was very nearly over. Tawny Hudson had lifted his head, and she saw +submission the most abject on his upraised face. He seemed to be pleading +for something, and after a moment, with the faintest shrug of the +shoulders, Nap lifted one hand and made a curious gesture above him. The +next instant he turned upon his heel and came towards her, while Tawny +Hudson got up and slunk away into the shadows. + +Anne awaited him, standing quite motionless. She knew now what had +happened. He had grappled with the man's will just as once he had +grappled with hers. And he had conquered. She expected him to +approach her with the royal swagger of victory, and involuntarily she +shrank, dreading to encounter him in that mood, painfully aware of +her own weakness. + +He came to her; he stood before her. "Anne," he said, "forgive me!" + +She gazed at him in astonishment. "Forgive you!" she repeated. "But why?" + +"I have no right to practise the black arts in your presence," he said, +"though as a matter of fact there was no other way. I've frightened the +poor devil out of his senses. Aren't you frightened too?" + +"I don't understand," she answered rather piteously. "I am only thankful +that you are not hurt." + +"That's good of you," he said, and she heard no irony in his voice. He +leaned his arms upon the rail beside her, and stared down in silence +for several moments into the dark water. "If this had happened a +week--less than a week--ago," he said at length, speaking very quietly, +"I would have let the fellow knife me with the utmost pleasure. I should +even have been grateful to him. And"--he turned very slightly towards +her--"you would have had cause for gratitude too, for Luke would have +been with you to-day." + +She shrank a little at his words. "I don't understand," she said again. + +He stood up and faced her with abrupt resolution. "I am going to make you +understand," he said, "once and for all. It's a rather hideous recital, +but you had better hear it. I will condense it as much as possible. I've +been an evil brute all my life, but I guess you know that already. The +first time I saw you I wanted to ruin you. I never meant to fall in love +with you. I kicked against it--kicked hard. Good women always +exasperated me. But I wanted a new sensation, and, by heaven, I got it!" +He paused a moment, and she saw his grim features relax very slightly. "I +was caught in my own net," he said. "I believe there is magic in you. You +captured me anyway. I did homage to you--in spite of myself. After that +night the relish went out of everything for me. I wanted only you." + +Again he paused, but she said nothing. She was listening with her +steadfast eyes upon him. + +"But you kept me at a distance," he said, "and I couldn't help myself. +That was the maddening part of it. Lucas knew even then--or suspected. +But he didn't interfere. He saw you were taming me. And so you were--so +you were. But that thrashing upset everything. It drove me mad. I was +crazy for revenge. Lucas made me go away, but I couldn't stay. I was like +a man possessed. My hatred for your husband had swamped my love for you. +You have got to know it, Anne; I am like that. I wanted to wreak my +vengeance on him through you, because I knew--by then--that I had somehow +reached your heart. And so I came to you--I saw you--and then I couldn't +do it. Your love--I suppose I may call it that?--barred the way. It was +your safeguard. You trusted me, and for that I wanted to fall down and +worship you. But you sent me away--I had to go. You made a man of me. I +lived a clean life because of you. I was your slave. I believe I should +have remained so if your husband had died then. But the knowledge that he +was coming back to you was too much for me. I couldn't stand that. I +broke free." + +He stopped suddenly and brought his clenched fist down upon the rail as +if physical pain were a relief to his soul. + +"I needn't go into what happened then," he said. "You saw me at my worst, +and--you conquered me. You drove me out of your stronghold, and you +locked the door. I don't know even now how you did it. None but a good +woman would have dared. Do you know, when I came to my senses and knew +what I had done, knew that I'd insulted you, killed your trust--your +love, made you despise me, I nearly shot myself? It was Dot who kept me +from that. She guessed, I suppose. And I went away--I went right away +into the Rockies--and fought my devils there. I came back saner than you +have ever known me, to hear that you were free. Can you believe that I +actually told myself that you were mine--mine for the winning? I +stretched out my hands to you across half the world, and I felt as if +wherever you were I had somehow managed to reach and touch you. It was +exactly a year from the day I had first met you." + +"Ah, I remember!" Anne said, her voice quick with pain; but she did not +tell him what she remembered. + +He went on rapidly, as if she had not spoken. "And then I came to you. +And--I found--I found Luke--in possession. Well, that was the end of +everything for me. I couldn't help knowing that it was the best thing +that could possibly happen to either of you. And I--well, I was just out +of it. I would have gone again that night, but Luke wouldn't have it. He +suspected from the first, though I lied to him--I lied royally. But I +couldn't keep it up. He was too many for me. He wouldn't let me drop out, +but neither would I let him. I fought every inch. I wouldn't let him die. +I held him night and day--night and day. I knew what it meant to you +too, and I knew you would help me afterwards to drop out. My whole soul +was in it, but even so, I couldn't hold on for ever. I had to slacken at +last, and he--he slackened too. I knew it directly, felt him losing +hold. That was two days before he died. And I pulled myself together and +grabbed him again. I think he knew. He tried to wake up, said he'd get +well, made me let go of him, made me explain things to you. And +then--well, I guess he thought his part was done--so he just--let go." + +Abruptly he turned from her and leaned again upon the rail, lodging his +head on his hands. "That's all," he said. "But if Tawny had taken it into +his fool brain to make an end of me a little sooner--as I meant him to--I +know very well Luke would have hung on--somehow--for your sake. Oh, I +wish to heaven he had!" he burst out fiercely. "I'm not fit to speak to +you, not fit to touch your hand. You--you--I believe you'd be kind to me +if I would let you. But I won't--I won't! I'm going away. It rests with +me now to protect you somehow, and there is no other way." + +He ceased to speak, and in the silence she watched his bent head, greatly +wondering, deeply pitying. When he stood up again she knew that the +tumult that tore his soul had been forced down out of sight. + +"You see how it is with me, Anne," he said very sadly. "Tawny Hudson +thinks I'm a devil, and I'm not sure--even now--that he isn't right. +That's why I'm going away. I won't have you trust me, for I can't trust +myself. And you have no one to protect you from me. So you won't blame me +for going? You'll understand?" + +His words went straight to her heart. She felt the quick tears +rising, but she kept them back. She knew that he needed strength from +her just then. + +And so, after a moment, she commanded herself, and answered him. + +"I think you are quite right to go, Nap. And--yes, I understand. +Only--some day--some day--come back again!" + +He leaned towards her. His face had flashed into sudden vitality at her +words. He made a movement as if he would take her into his arms. And then +abruptly, almost with violence, he withdrew himself, and gripped his +hands together behind him. + +Standing so, with the moonlight shining on his face, he showed her that +which her heart ached to see. For though the dusky eyes were fixed and +still, unveiled but unrevealing, though the high cheek-bones and lantern +jaw were grim as beaten brass, she had a glimpse beyond of the seething, +volcanic fires she dreaded, and she knew that he had spoken the truth. It +was better for them both that he should go. + +"I will come back to you, Anne," he said, speaking very steadily. "I +will come back to you--if I find I can." + +It was final, and she knew it. She held out her hand to him in silence, +and he, stooping, pressed it dumbly against his lips. + +Thereafter they walked back to the house together, and parted +without a word. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +OUT OF THE FURNACE + + +Capper looked round with a certain keenness that was not untouched with +curiosity when Nap unexpectedly followed him to his room that night. + +"Are you wanting anything?" he demanded, with his customary directness. + +"Nothing much," Nap said. "You might give me a sleeping-draught if you're +disposed to be charitable. I seem to have lost the knack of going to +sleep. What I really came to say was that Hudson will go with you +to-morrow if you will be good enough to put up with him. He won't give +you any trouble. I would let him go with me next week if his wits would +stand the strain of travelling in my company, but I don't think they +will. I don't want to turn him into a gibbering maniac if I can help it." + +"What have you been doing to him?" said Capper. + +Nap smiled, faintly contemptous. "My dear doctor, I never do anything to +anybody. If people choose to credit me with possessing unholy powers, +you will allow that I am scarcely to be blamed if the temptation to trade +now and then upon their fertile imaginations proves too much for me." + +"I allow nothing," Capper said, "that is not strictly normal and +wholesome." + +"Then that places me on the black list at once," remarked Nap. +"Good-night!" + +"Stay a moment!" ordered Capper. "Let me look at you. If you will +promise to behave like an ordinary human being for once, I'll give you +that draught." + +"I'll promise anything you like," said Nap, a shade of weariness in his +voice. "I'm going up to town to-morrow, and I never sleep there so I +reckon this is my last chance for some time to come." + +"Are you trying to kill yourself?" asked Capper abruptly. + +But Nap only threw up his head and laughed. "If that were my object I'd +take a shorter cut than this. No, I guess I shan't die this way, Doctor. +You seem to forget the fact that I'm as tough as leather, with the +vitality of a serpent." + +"The toughest of us won't go for ever," observed Capper. "You get to bed. +I'll come to you directly." + +When he joined him again, a few minutes later, Nap was lying on his back +with arms flung wide, staring inscrutably at the ceiling. His mind seemed +to be far away, but Capper's hand upon his pulse brought it back. He +turned his head with the flicker of a smile. + +"What's that for?" + +"I happen to take an interest in you, my son," said Capper. + +"Very good of you. But why?" + +Capper was watching him keenly. "Because I have a notion that you +are wanted." + +Nap stirred restlessly, and was silent. + +"How long are you going to be away?" Capper asked. + +"I don't know." + +"For long?" + +Nap's hand jerked impatiently from the doctor's hold. "Possibly +for ever." + +Capper's long fingers began to crack. He looked speculative. "Say, Nap," +he said suddenly, "we may not be exactly sympathetic, you and I, but I +guess we've pulled together long enough to be fairly intimate. Anyway, +I've conceived a sort of respect for you that I never expected to have. +And if you'll take a word of advice from a friend who wishes you well, +you won't regret it." + +The thin lips began to smile. "Delighted to listen to your advice, +Doctor. I suspect I'm not obliged to follow it." + +"You will please yourself, no doubt," Capper rejoined drily. "But my +advice is, don't stay away too long. Your place is here." + +"You think so?" said Nap. + +"I am quite sure," Capper said, with emphasis. + +"And you think I shall please myself by going?" + +"Who else?" said Capper almost sternly. + +Nap did not instantly reply. He was lying back with his face in shadow. +When he spoke at length it was with extreme deliberation. Capper divined +that it was an effort to him to speak at all. + +"You're a family friend," he said. "I guess you've a right to know. It +isn't for my own sake I'm going at all. It's for--hers, and because of a +promise I made to Luke. If I were to stop, I'd be a cur--and worse. She'd +take me without counting the cost. She is a woman who never thinks of +herself. I've got to think for her. I've sworn to play the straight game, +and I'll play it. That's why I won't so much as look into her face again +till I know that I can be to her what Luke would have been--what Bertie +is to Dot--what every man who is a man ought to be to the woman he has +made his wife." + +He flung his arms up above his head and remained tense for several +seconds. Then abruptly he relaxed. + +"I'll be a friend to her," he said, "a friend that she can +trust--or nothing!" + +There came a very kindly look into Capper's green eyes, but he made no +comment of any sort. He only turned aside to take up the glass he had set +down on entering. And as he did so, he smiled as a man well pleased. + +Once during the night he looked in upon Nap and found him sleeping, +wrapt in a deep and silent slumber, motionless as death. He stood awhile +watching the harsh face with its grim mouth and iron jaw, and slowly a +certain pity dawned in his own. The man had suffered infernally before he +had found his manhood. He had passed through raging fires that had left +their mark upon him for the rest of his life. + +"It's been an almighty big struggle, poor devil," said Capper, "but it's +made a man of you." + +He left early on the following day, accompanied by Tawny Hudson, whose +docility was only out-matched by his very obvious desire to be gone. + +True to her promise, Anne was down in time to take leave of Capper. They +stood together for a moment on the steps before parting. Her hand in his, +he looked straight into her quiet eyes. + +"You're not grieving any, Lady Carfax?" + +"No," she said. + +"I guess you're right," said Maurice Capper gravely. "We make our little +bids for happiness, but it helps one to remember that the issue lies +with God." + +She gave him a smile of understanding. "'He knows about it all--He +knows--He knows,'" she quoted softly. And Capper went his way, taking +with him the memory of a woman who still ploughed her endless furrow, but +with a heart at peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE PROMOTION OF THE QUEEN'S JESTER + + +"My!" said Mrs. Errol. "Isn't he just dear?" + +There was a cooing note in her deep voice. She sat in the Dower House +garden with her grandson bolt upright upon her knees, and all the birds +of June singing around her. + +"Isn't he dear, Anne?" she said. + +Anne, who was dangling a bunch of charms for the baby's amusement, +stooped and kissed the sunny curls. + +"He's a lord of creation," she said. "And he knows it already. I never +saw such an upright morsel in my life." + +"Lucas was like that," said Mrs. Errol softly. "He was just the loveliest +baby in the U.S.A. Everyone said so. Dot dearie, I'm sort of glad you +called him Luke." + +"So am I, mater dearest. And he's got Luke's eyes, hasn't he now? Bertie +said so from the very beginning." Eagerly Dot leaned from her chair to +turn her small son's head to meet his grandmother's scrutiny. "I'd rather +he were like Luke than anyone else in the world," she said. "It isn't +treason to Bertie to say so, for he wants it too. Where is Bertie, I +wonder? He had to go to town, but he promised to be back early for his +boy's first birthday-party. It's such an immense occasion, isn't it?" + +Her round face dimpled in the way Bertie most loved. She rose and slipped +a hand through Anne's arm. + +"Let's go and look for him. I know he can't be long now. The son of the +house likes having his granny to himself. He never cries with her." + +They moved away together through the sunlit garden, Dot chattering gaily +as her fashion was about nothing in particular while Anne walked beside +her in sympathetic silence. Anne was never inattentive though there were +some who deemed her unresponsive. + +But as they neared the gate Dot's volubility quite suddenly died down. +She plucked a white rose, to fill in the pause and fastened it in her +friend's dress. Her fingers trembled unmistakably as she did it, and Anne +looked at her inquiringly. "Is anything the matter?" + +"No. Why?" said Dot, turning very red. + +Anne smiled a little. "I feel as if a bird had left off singing," she +said. + +Dot laughed, still with hot cheeks. "What a pretty way of putting it! +Bertie isn't nearly so complimentary. He calls me the magpie, which is +really very unfair, for he talks much more than I do. Dear old Bertie!" + +The dimples lingered, and Anne bent suddenly and kissed them. "Dear +little Dot!" she said. + +Instantly Dot's arms were very tightly round her. "Anne darling, I've got +something to tell you--something you very possibly won't quite like. You +won't be vexed any, will you?" + +"Not any," smiled Anne. + +"No, but it isn't a small thing. It--it's rather immense. But Bertie said +I was to tell you, because you are not to be taken by surprise again. He +doesn't think it fair, and of course he's right." + +"What is it, dear?" said Anne. The smile had gone from her face, but her +eyes were steadfast and very still--the eyes of a woman who had waited +all her life. + +"My dear," said Dot, holding her closely, "it's only that Bertie didn't +go up to town on business. It was to meet someone, and--and that someone +will be with him when he comes back. I promised Bertie to tell you, but +you were so late getting here I was afraid I shouldn't have time. Oh, +Anne dear, I do hope you don't mind." + +Dot's face, a guilty scarlet, was hidden in Anne's shoulder. Anne's hand, +very quiet and steady, came up and began to stroke the fluffy hair that +blew against her neck. But she said nothing. + +It was Dot who remorsefully broke the silence. "I feel such a beast, +Anne, but really I had no hand in it this time. He wrote to Bertie +yesterday from town. He hasn't been in England for over a year, and he +wanted to know if he could come to us. Bertie went up this morning to see +him and bring him back. I thought of coming round to you, but Bertie +seemed to think I had better wait and tell you when you came. I hoped you +would have come earlier, so that I would have had more time to tell you +about it. Dear, do tell me it's all right." + +"It is all right," Anne said, and with the words she smiled again though +her face was pale. "It is quite all right, Dot dear. Don't be anxious." + +Dot looked up with a start. "That's the motor coming now. Oh, Anne, I've +only told you just in time!" + +She was quivering with excitement. It seemed as if she were far the more +agitated of the two. For Anne was calm to all outward appearance, quiet +and stately and unafraid. Only the hand that grasped Dot's was cold--cold +as ice. The motor was rapidly approaching. They stood by the gate and +heard the buzzing of the engine, the rush of the wheels, and then the +quick, gay blasts of the horn by which Bertie always announced his coming +to his wife. A moment more and the car whizzed into the drive. There came +a yell of welcome from Bertie at the wheel and the instant checking of +the motor. + +And the man beside Bertie leaned swiftly forward, bareheaded, and looked +straight into Anne's white face. + +She did not know how she met his look. It seemed to pierce her. But +she was nerved for the ordeal, and she moved towards him with +outstretched hand. + +His fingers closed upon it as he stepped from the car, gripped and +closely held it. But he spoke not a word to her; only to Dot, whom he +kissed immediately afterwards, to her confusion and Bertie's amusement. + +"I seem to have stumbled into a family gathering," he said later, when +they gave him the place of honour between Mrs. Errol and his hostess. + +"Being one of the family, I guess it's a happy accident," said +Mrs. Errol. + +He bowed to her elaborately. "Many thanks, alma mater! Considering the +short time you have had for preparing a pretty speech of welcome it does +you undoubted credit." + +"Oh, my, Nap!" she said. "I'm past making pretty speeches at my age. I +just say what I mean." + +A gleam of surprise crossed his dark face. "That so, alma mater?" he +said. "Then--considering all things--again thanks!" He turned from her to +the baby sprawling on the rug at his feet, and lifted the youngster to +his knee. "So this is the pride of the Errols now," he said. + +The baby stared up at him with serious eyes, and very deliberately and +intently Nap stared back. + +"What is his name, Dot?" he asked at length. + +"Lucas Napoleon," she said. + +"Good heavens!" he ejaculated. "What an unholy combination! What in +thunder possessed you to call him that?" + +"Oh, it wasn't my doing," Dot hastened to explain, with her usual +honesty, "though of course I was delighted with the idea. Bertie and I +called him Lucas almost before he was born." + +"Then who in wonder chose my name for him?" demanded Nap. + +"See the Church Catechism!" suggested Bertie. + +"Ah! Quite so." Nap turned upon him keenly. "Who were his god-parents?" + +"My dear Nap, what does it matter?" broke in Dot. "Be quiet, Bertie! For +goodness' sake make him put the child down and have some tea." + +"Let me take him," Anne said. + +She stooped to lift the boy, who held out his arms to her with a crow of +pleasure. Nap looked up at her, and for an instant only their eyes met; +but in that instant understanding dawned upon Nap's face, and with it a +strangely tender smile that made it almost gentle. + +Dot declared afterwards that the birthday-party had been all she could +have desired. Everyone had been nice to everyone, and the baby hadn't +been rude to his uncle, a calamity she had greatly feared. Also Nap was +improved, hugely improved. Didn't Bertie think so? He seemed to have got +so much more human. She couldn't realise there had ever been a time when +she had actually disliked him. + +"P'r'aps we're more human ourselves," suggested Bertie; a notion which +hadn't occurred to Dot but which she admitted might have something in it. + +Anyway, she was sure Nap had improved, and she longed to know if Anne +thought so too. + +Anne's thoughts upon that subject, however, were known to none, perhaps +not even to herself. All she knew was an overwhelming desire for +solitude, but when this was hers at last it was not in the consideration +of this question that she spent it. + +It was in kneeling by her open window with her face to the sky, and +in her heart a rapture of gladness that all the birds of June could +not utter. + +She scarcely slept at all that night, yet when she rose some of the bloom +of youth had come back to her, some of its summer splendour was shining +in her eyes. Anne Carfax was more nearly a beautiful woman that day than +she had ever been before. + +Dimsdale looked at her benignly. Would her ladyship breakfast +out-of-doors? She smiled and gave her assent, and while he was preparing +she plucked a spray of rose acacia and pinned it at her throat. + +"Dimsdale," she said, and her cheeks flushed to the soft tint of the +blossom as she spoke, "Mr. Errol is coming over this morning. I expect +him to luncheon." + +"Mr. Errol, my lady?" + +"Mr. Nap Errol," said Anne, still intent upon the acacia. "Show him into +the garden when he comes. He is sure to find me somewhere." + +Dimsdale's eyes opened very wide, but he managed his customary "Very +good, my lady," as he continued his preparations. And so Anne breakfasted +amid the tumult of rejoicing June, all the world laughing around her, all +the world offering abundant thanksgiving because of the sunshine that +flooded it. + +When breakfast was over she sat with closed eyes, seeming to hear the +very heart of creation throbbing in every sound, yet listening, listening +intently for something more. For a long time she sat thus, absorbed in +the great orchestra, waiting as it were to take her part in the mighty +symphony that swept its perfect harmonies around her. + +It was a very little thing at last that told her her turn had come, so +small a thing, and yet it sent the blood tingling through every vein, +racing and pulsing with headlong impetus like a locked stream suddenly +set free. It was no more than the flight of a startled bird from the tree +above her. + +She opened her eyes, quivering from head to foot. Yesterday she had +commanded herself. She had gone to him with outstretched hand and +welcoming smile. To-day she sat quite still. She could not move. + +He came to her, stooped over her, then knelt beside her; but he did not +offer to touch her. The sunlight streamed down upon his upturned face. +His eyes were deep and still and passionless. + +"You expected me," he said. + +She looked down at him. "I have been expecting you for a very long +time," she said. + +A flicker that was scarcely a smile crossed his face. "And yet I've come +too soon," he said. + +"Why do you say that?" She asked the question almost in spite of herself. +But she had begun to grow calmer. His quietness reassured her. + +"Because, my Queen," he said, "the _role_ of jester at court is +obsolete, at least so far as I am concerned, and I haven't managed to +qualify for another." + +"Do you want another?" she said. + +He turned his eyes away from her. "I want--many things," he said. + +She motioned him to the seat beside her. "Tell me what you have been +doing all this time." + +"I can't," he said. + +But he rose and sat beside her as she desired. + +"What under heaven have I been doing?" he said. "I don't know, I guess +I've been something like Nebuchadnezzar when they turned him out to +grass. I've been just--ruminating," + +"Is that all?" There was a curious note of relief in Anne's voice. + +His old magnetic smile flashed across his face as he caught it. "That's +all, Queen Anne. It's been monstrous dull. Do you know, I don't think +Heaven intended me for a hermit." + +Involuntarily almost she smiled in answer. Her heart was beating quite +steadily again. She was no longer afraid. + +"Nebuchadnezzar came to his own again," she observed. + +"He did," said Nap. + +"And you?" + +He leaned back with his face to the sky. "Not yet," he said. + +Anne was silent. He turned after a moment and looked at her. "And what +have you been doing, 0 Queen?" he said. + +Her hands were clasped in her lap. They suddenly gripped each other +very fast. + +"Won't you tell me?" said Nap. + +He spoke very softly, but he made no movement towards her. He sat aloof +and still. Yet he plainly desired an answer. + +It came at last, spoken almost in a whisper. "I have been--waiting." + +"Waiting--" he said. + +She parted her hands suddenly, with a gesture that was passionate, and +rose. "Yes, waiting," she said, "waiting, Nap, waiting! And oh, I'm so +tired of it. I'm not like you. I have never wanted--many things; only +one--only one!" Her voice broke. She turned sharply from him. + +Nap had sprung to his feet. He stood close to her. But he held himself +in check. He kept all emotion out of his face and voice. + +"Do you think I don't know?" he said. "My dear Anne, I have always known. +That's the damnable part of it. You've wanted truth instead of +treachery, honour instead of shame, love instead of--" + +She put out a quick hand. "Don't say it, Nap!" + +He took her hand, drew it to his heart, and held it there. "And you say +you don't want many things," he went on, in a tone half sad, half +whimsical. "My dear, if I could give you one tenth of what you want--and +ought to have--you'd be a lucky woman and I a thrice lucky man. +But--we've got to face it--I can't. I thought I could train myself, +fashion myself, into something worthy of your acceptance. I can't. I +thought I could win back your trust, your friendship, last of all your +love. But I can't even begin. You can send me away from you if you will, +and I'll go for good and all. On the other hand, you can keep me, you can +marry me--" He paused; and she fancied she felt his heart quicken. "You +can marry me," he said again, "but you can't tame me. You'll find me an +infernal trial to live with. I'm not a devil any longer. No, and I'm not +a brute. But I am still a savage at heart, and there are some parts of me +that won't tame. My love for you is a seething furnace, an intolerable +craving. I can't contemplate you sanely. I want you unspeakably." + +His hold had tightened. She could feel his heart throbbing now like a +fierce thing caged. His eyes had begun to glow. The furnace door was +opening. She could feel the heat rushing out, enveloping her. Soon it +would begin to scorch her. And yet she knew no shrinking. Rather she drew +nearer, as a shivering creature starved and frozen draws near to the +hunter's fire. + +He went on speaking rapidly, with rising passion. "My love for you is the +one part of me that I haven't got under control, and it's such a mighty +big part that the rest is hardly worthy of mention. It's great enough to +make everything else contemptible. I've no use for lesser things. I want +just you--only you--only you--for the rest of my life!" + +He stopped suddenly, seemed on the verge of something further, then +pulled himself together with a sharp gesture. The next moment, quite +quietly, he relinquished her hand. + +"I'm afraid that's all there is to me," he said. "Lucas would have given +you understanding, friendship, chivalry, all that a good woman wants. I +can only offer you--bondage." + +He half turned with the words, standing as if it needed but a sign to +dismiss him. But Anne made no sign. Over their heads a thrush had +suddenly begun to pour out his soul to the June sunshine, and she stood +spell-bound, listening. + +At the end of several breathless moments she spoke and in her voice was +a deep note that thrilled like music. + +"There is a bondage," she said, "that is sweeter than any freedom. And, +Nap, it is the one thing in this world that I want--that I need--that I +pray for night and day." + +"Anne!" he said. He turned back to her. He took the hands she gave him. +"Anne," he said again, speaking rapidly, in a voice that shook, "I have +tried to play a straight game with you. I have warned you. I am not the +right sort. You know what I am. You know." + +"Yes," Anne said, "I know." She raised her head and looked him straight +in the eyes. "You are all the world to me, Nap," she said. "You are the +man I love." + +His arms caught her, crushed her fiercely to him, held her fast. + +"Say it again!" he said, his fiery eyes flaming. "Say it! Say it!" + +But Anne said nought. Only for a long, long second she gazed into his +face; then in utter silence she turned her lips to his. + + * * * * * + +They spent the whole of the long June day together in the garden. Neither +knew how the time went till evening came upon them all unawares--a golden +evening of many fragrances. + +They came at last along the green path under the lilac trees, and here +by the rustic seat Nap stopped. + +"I'll leave you here," he said. + +She looked at him in surprise. "Won't you dine with me?" + +"No," he said restlessly. "I won't come in. I should stifle under a roof +to-night." + +"But we will dine outside," she said. + +He shook his head. "No, I'm going. Anne," he caught her hand to his lips, +"I hate leaving you. How long must I be condemned to it?" + +She touched his shoulder with her cheek. "Don't you know that I hate it +too?" she said. + +"Then--" He put his arm round her. + +"Next week, Nap," she said. + +"You mean it?" + +"Yes. I mean it." + +"You will marry me next week. What day?" + +"Any day," she said, with her face against his shoulder. + +"Any day, Anne? You mean that? You mean me to choose?" + +She laughed softly. "I shall leave everything to you." + +"Then I choose Sunday," Nap said, without an instant's consideration, "as +early in the morning as possible. I shall go straight to the padre and +arrange it right now." + +"Very well," she said. "I'll try to be ready." + +He threw up his head with the old arrogant gesture. "You must be ready," +he said imperiously. "I shall come and fetch you myself." + +She laughed again at that. "Indeed you will not. I shall go with +Mrs. Errol." + +He conceded this point, albeit grudgingly. "And afterwards?" he said. + +"The afterwards shall be yours, dear," she answered. + +"You mean that?" + +"Of course I mean it." + +"Then, Anne"--he bent his face suddenly, his lips moved against her +forehead--"will you come with me to Bramhurst?" + +"Bramhurst!" She started a little. The name to her was no more than a +bitter memory among the many other bitter memories of her life. + +"Will you?" he said. + +"If you wish it," she answered gently. + +"I do wish it." + +"Then--so be it," she said. + +He bent his head a little lower, kissed her twice passionately upon the +lips, held her awhile as if he could not bear to let her go, then tore +himself almost violently from her, and went away, swift and noiseless as +a shadow over the grass. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS + + +It was late on the evening of her wedding-day that Anne entered once +more the drawing-room of the little inn at Bramhurst and stopped by the +open window. + +There was a scent of musk in the room behind her, and an odour infinitely +more alluring of roses and honeysuckle in the garden in front. Beyond the +garden the common lay in the rosy dusk of the afterglow under a deep blue +sky. The clang of a distant cow-bell came dreamily through the silence. + +She stood leaning against the door-post with her face to the night. It +was a night of wonder, of marvellous, soul-stilling peace. Yet her brows +were slightly drawn as she waited there. She seemed to be puzzling over +something. + +"Say it out loud," said Nap. + +She did not start at the words though he had come up behind her without +sound. She stretched out her hand without turning and drew his arm +through hers. + +"Why did we choose this place?" she said. + +"You didn't choose it," said Nap. + +"Then you?" + +"I chose it chiefly because I knew you hated it," he said, a queer +vibration of recklessness in his voice. + +"My dear Nap, am I to believe that?" + +He looked at her through the falling dusk, and his hand closed tense and +vital upon her arm. "It's the truth anyway," he said. "I knew you hated +the place, that you only came to it for my sake. And I--I made you come +because I wanted you to love it." + +"For your sake, Nap?" she said softly. + +"Yes, and for another reason." He paused a moment; speech seemed suddenly +an effort to him. Then: "Anne," he said, "you forgave me, I know, long +ago; but I want you here--on this spot--to tell me that what happened +here is to you as if it had never been. I want it blotted out of your +mind for ever. I want your trust--your trust!" + +It was like a hunger-cry rising from the man's very soul. At sound of it +she turned impulsively. + +"Nap, never speak of this again! My dearest, we need not have come here +for that. Yet I am glad now that we came. It will be holy ground to me as +long as I live. As long as I live," she repeated very earnestly, "I shall +remember that it was here that the door of paradise was opened to us at +last, and that God meant us to enter in." + +She lifted her eyes to his with a look half-shy, half-confident. "You +believe in God," she said. + +He did not answer at once. He was looking out beyond her for the first +time, and the restless fire had gone out of his eyes. They were still and +deep as a mountain pool. + +"Nap," she said in a whisper. + +Instantly his look came back to her. He took her face between his hands +with a tenderness so new that it moved her inexplicably to tears. + +"I believe in the Power that casts out devils," he said very gravely. +"Luke taught me that much. I guess my wife will teach me the rest." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS*** + + +******* This file should be named 12484.txt or 12484.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/4/8/12484 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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