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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/13547-0.txt b/13547-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..58e488f --- /dev/null +++ b/13547-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18904 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13547 *** + +THE ROCKS OF VALPRÉ + +by + +ETHEL M. DELL + +Author of "The Way of an Eagle," "The Knave of Diamonds," etc. + +1913 + + + + + + + +I Dedicate This Book To MY MOTHER + +AS A VERY SMALL TOKEN OF THAT LOVE WHICH NO WORDS CAN EXPRESS + + "Love is indestructible: +Its holy flame for ever burneth, +From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth; + Too oft on Earth a troubled guest, + At times deceived, at times opprest, + It here is tried and purified, + Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest: +It soweth here with toil and care, +Bat the harvest-time of Love is there." + +_The Curse of Kehama_--Robert Southey. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + +PROLOGUE + + I. THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE + II. DESTINY + III. A ROPE OF SAND + IV. THE DIVINE MAGIC + V. THE BIRTHDAY TREAT + VI. THE SPELL + VII. IN THE CAUSE OF A WOMAN +VIII. THE ENGLISHMAN + + +PART I + + I. THE PRECIPICE + II. THE CONQUEST + III. THE WARNING + IV. DOUBTS + V. DE PROFUNDIS + VI. ENGAGED + VII. THE SECOND WARNING +VIII. THE COMPACT + IX. A CONFESSION + X. A SURPRISE VISIT + XI. THE EXPLANATION + XII. THE BIRTHDAY PARTY +XIII. PALS + XIV. A REVELATION + XV. MISGIVINGS + XVI. MARRIED + + +PART II + + I. SUMMER WEATHER + II. ONE OF THE FAMILY + III. DISASTER + IV. GOOD-BYE TO CHILDHOOD + V. THE LOOKER-ON + VI. A BARGAIN + VII. THE ENEMY +VIII. THE THIN END + IX. THE ENEMY MOVES + X. A WARNING VOICE + XI. A BROKEN REED + XII. A MAN OF HONOUR +XIII. WOMANHOOD + + +PART III + + I. WAR + II. FIREWORKS + III. THE TURN OF THE TIDE + IV. "MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" + V. A DESPERATE REMEDY + VI. WHEN LOVE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE + VII. THE WAY OF THE WYNDHAMS +VIII. THE TRUTH + + +PART IV + + I. THE REFUGEE + II. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR + III. A FRUITLESS ERRAND + IV. THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART + V. THE STRANGER + VI. MAN TO MAN + VII. THE MESSENGER +VIII. ARREST + IX. VALPRÉ AGAIN + X. THE INDESTRUCTIBLE + XI. THE END OF THE VOYAGE + XII. THE PROCESSION UNDER THE WINDOWS + + + + + +PROLOGUE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE + + +When Cinders began to dig a hole no power on earth, except brute force, +could ever stop him till he sank exhausted. Not even the sight of a crab +could divert his thoughts from this entrancing occupation, much less his +mistress's shrill whistle; and this was strange, for on all other +occasions it was his custom to display the most exemplary obedience. + +Of a cheerful disposition was Cinders, deeply interested in all things +living, despising nothing however trivial, constantly seeking, and very +often finding, treasures of supreme value in his own estimation. It was +probably this passion for investigation that induced him to dig with such +energy and perseverance, but he was not an interesting companion when the +digging mood was upon him. It was, in fact, advisable to keep at a +distance, for he created a miniature sand-storm in his immediate vicinity +that spoiled the amusement of all except himself and successfully checked +all intrusive sympathy. + +"It really is too bad of him," said Chris, as she sat on a rock at twelve +yards' distance and dried her feet in melancholy preoccupation. "It's the +third day running, and I'm so tired of having nobody to talk to and +nothing to do--not even a crab-hunt." + +There was some pleasure to be extracted from crab-hunting under Cinders' +ardent leadership, but alone it held no fascinations. It really was just +a little selfish of Cinders. + +She glanced towards him, and saw that the sand-storm had temporarily +abated. He was working away the heap that had collected beneath him in +preparation for more extensive operations. + +"Cinders!" she called, in the forlorn hope of attracting his attention. +"Cinders!" Then, with a sudden spurt of animation, "Cinders darling, just +come and see what I've found!" + +But Cinders was not so easily deceived. He stood a moment with his stubby +little body tensely poised, then plunged afresh with feverish eagerness +to his task. + +The sand-storm recommenced, and Chris turned with a sigh to contemplate +the blue horizon. A large steamer was travelling slowly across it. She +watched it enviously. + +"Lucky people!" she said. "Lucky, lucky people!" + +The wind caught her red-brown hair and blew it out like a cloak behind +her. It was still damp, for she had been bathing, and when the wind had +passed it settled again in long, gleaming ripples upon her shoulders. She +pushed it away from her face with an impatient hand. + +"Cinders," she said, "if you don't come soon I shall go and find the +Knight of the Magic Cave all by myself." + +But even this threat did not move the enthusiastic Cinders. All that +could be seen of him was a pair of sturdy hind-legs firmly planted amid a +whirl of sand. Quite plainly it was nothing to him what steps his young +mistress might see fit to take to relieve her boredom. + +"All right!" said Chris, springing to her feet with a flourish of her +towel. "Then good-bye!" + +She shook the hair back from her face, slipped her bare feet into +sandals, slung the towel across her shoulders, and turned her face to the +cliffs. + +They frowned above the rock-strewn beach to a height of two hundred feet, +tunnelled here and there by the sea, scored here and there by springs, +rising mass upon mass, in some places almost perpendicular, in others +overhanging. + +They possessed an immense fascination for Chris Wyndham, these cliffs. +There was a species of dreadful romance about them that attracted even +while it awed her. She longed to explore them, and yet deep in the most +private recesses of her soul she was half-afraid. So many terrible +stories were told of this particular corner of the rocky coast. So many +ships were wrecked, so many lives were lost, so many hopes were quenched +forever between the cliffs and the sea. + +But these facts did not prevent her weaving romances about those +wonderful caves. For instance, there was the Magic Cave, for which she +was bound now, the entrance to which was only accessible at low tide. +There was something particularly imposing about this entrance, something +palatial, that stirred the girl's quick fancy. She had never before quite +reached it on account of the difficulty of the approach; but she had +promised herself that she would do so sooner or later, when time and tide +should permit. + +Both chanced to be favourable on this particular afternoon, and she set +forth light-footed upon the adventure, leaving Cinders to his monotonous +but all-engrossing pastime. A wide line of rocks stretched between her +and her goal, which was dimly discernible in the deep shadow of the +cliff--a mysterious opening that had the appearance of a low Gothic +archway. + +"I'm sure it's haunted," said Chris, and fell forthwith to dreaming as +she stepped along the sunlit sand. + +Of course she would find an enchanted hall, peopled by crabs that were +not crabs at all, but the afore-mentioned knight and his retinue, all +bound by the same wicked spell. "And I shall have to find out what it is +and set him free," said Chris, with a sigh of pleasurable anticipation. +"And then, I suppose, he will begin to jabber French, and I shall wish to +goodness I hadn't. I expect he will want to marry me, poor thing! And I +shall have to explain--in French, ugh!--that as he is only a foreigner I +couldn't possibly, under any circumstances, entertain such a preposterous +notion for a single instant. No, I am afraid that would sound rather +rude. How else could I put it?" + +Chris's brow wrinkled over the problem. She had reached the outlying +rocks of the belt she had to cross, and was picking her way between the +pools in deep abstraction. + +"I wonder!" she murmured to herself. "I wonder!" + +Then suddenly her rapt expression broke into a merry smile. "I know! +Of course! Absurdly easy! I shall tell him that I am under a spell +too--bound beyond all chance of escape to marry an Englishman." The sweet +face dimpled over the inspiration. "That ought to settle him, unless he +is very persevering; in which case of course I should have to tell +him--quite kindly--that I really didn't think I could. Fancy marrying a +crab--and a French crab too!" + +She began to laugh, gaily, irrepressibly, light-heartedly, and skipped on +to the first weed-covered rock that obstructed her path. It was an +exceedingly slippery perch. She poised herself with arms outspread, with +a butterfly grace as airy as her visions. + +Away in the distance Cinders, nearing exhaustion, leaned on one elbow and +scratched spasmodically with his free paw. + +"Good-bye, Cinders!" she called to him in her high young voice. "I'm +never coming back any more." + +Lightly she waved her hand and sprang for another rock. But her feet +slipped on the seaweed, and she splashed down into a pool ankle-deep. + +"Bother!" she said, with vehemence. "It's these silly sandals. I'll leave +them here till I come back." + +She scrambled out again and pulled them off. "If I really don't come back +I shan't want them," she reflected, with her merry little smile. + +She arranged sandals and towel on the flat surface of a rock and pursued +her pilgrimage unhampered. + +She certainly managed better without the sandals, but even as it was she +slipped and slid a good deal on the treacherous seaweed. It took her +considerably longer than she had anticipated to cross that belt of rocks. +It was much farther than it looked. Moreover, the pools were so full of +interest that she had to stop and investigate them as she went. Anemones, +green and red, clung to the shining rocks, and crabs of all sizes +scuttled away at her approach. + +"What a lot of retainers he must have!" said Chris. + +She was nearing the Gothic archway, and her heart began to beat fast in +anticipation. What she really expected to find she could not have said. +But undoubtedly this particular cave was many degrees more mysterious and +more eerie than any other she had ever explored. It was very lonely, and +the cliff that frowned above her was very black. The afternoon sun shone +genially upon all things, however, and this gave her courage. + +The waves foamed among the rocks but a few yards from the jutting +headland. Already the tide was turning. That meant that her time was +short. + +"I won't go beyond the entrance to-day," said Chris. "But to-morrow I'll +start earlier and go right in. P'raps Cinders will come too. It wouldn't +be so lonely with Cinders." + +The rocks all about her lay scattered like gigantic ruins. She stood +upon a high boulder and peered around her. There was certainly something +awe-inspiring about the place, the bright sun notwithstanding. It seemed +to lie beneath a spell. She wondered if she would come across any bits of +wreckage, and suppressed a shudder. The Gothic archway looked very dark +and vault-like from where she stood. Should she, after all, go any +nearer? Should she wait till Cinders would deign to accompany her? The +tide was undoubtedly rising. In any case she would have to turn back +within the next few minutes. + +Slowly she pivoted round and looked again from the smiling horizon +whereon no ship was visible to the Magic Cave that yawned in the +face of the cliff. The next instant she jumped so violently that +she missed her footing and fell from her perch in sheer amazement. +Something--someone--was moving just within the deep shadow where the +sunlight could not penetrate! + +It was not a big drop, but she came to earth with a cry of pain among a +mass of fallen stones, whereon she subsided, tightly clasping one foot +between her hands. She had stumbled upon wreckage to her cost; a piece of +rusty iron at her side and the blood that ran out between her locked +fingers testified to that. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she wailed, rocking herself, and then glanced +nervously over her shoulder, remembering the mysterious cause of the +disaster. + +The next moment swiftly she released the injured foot and sprang up. A +man, attired in white linen, had emerged from the Magic Cave. + +He stood a second looking at her, then came bounding towards her over the +rocks. + +Chris shrank back against her boulder. She was feeling dizzy and rather +sick, and the apparition frightened her. + +As he drew near she waved a desperate hand to stay his approach. "Oh, +please go away!" she cried in English. "I--I don't want any help. I'm +only looking for crabs." + +He paid no attention whatever to her gesture or to her words. Only, +reaching her, he bowed very low, beginning with some formality, "_Mais, +mademoiselle; permettez-moi, je vous prie_," and ending in tones of quick +compassion, "_Ah, pauvre petite! Pauvre petite_!" + +Before she knew his intention he was on his knees before her, and had +taken the cut foot very gently into his hands. + +Chris leaned back, clinging to the boulder. The sunlight danced giddily +in her eyes. She felt as if she were slipping over the edge of the world. + +"I can't--stand," she faltered weakly. + +"No, no, _petite_! But naturally!" came the reassuring reply. "Be seated, +I beg. Permit me to assist you!" + +Chris, being quite incapable of doing otherwise, yielded herself to +the gentle insistence of an arm that encircled her. She had an +impression--fleeting at the time but returning to her later--of friendly +dark eyes that looked for an instant into hers; and then, exactly how it +happened she knew not, she was sitting propped against the rock, while +all the world swam dizzily around her, and someone with sure, steady +hands wound a bandage tightly and ever more tightly around her wounded +foot. + +"It hurts!" she murmured piteously. + +"Have patience, mademoiselle! It will be better in a moment," came the +quick reply. "I shall not hurt you more than is necessary. It is to +arrest the bleeding, this. Mademoiselle will endure the pain like a brave +child, yes?" + +Chris swallowed a little shudder. The dizziness was passing. She was +beginning to see more clearly, and her gaze travelled with dawning +criticism over the neat white figure that ministered so confidently to +her need. + +"I knew he'd be French," she whispered half aloud. + +"But I speak English, mademoiselle," he returned, without raising his +black head, + +"Yes," she said, with a sigh of relief. "I'm very glad of that. Must you +pull it any tighter? I--I can bear it, of course, but I'd much rather you +didn't if--if you don't mind." + +She spoke gaspingly. Her eyes were full of tears, though she kept them +resolutely from falling. + +"Poor little one!" he said. "But you are very brave. Once more--so--and +we will not do it again. The pain is not so bad now, no?" + +He looked up at her with a smile so kindly that Chris nearly broke down +altogether. She made a desperate grab after her self-control, and by dint +of biting her lower lip very hard just saved herself from this calamity. + +It was a very pleasing face that looked into her own, olive-hued, with +brows as delicate as a woman's. A thin line of black moustache outlined a +mouth that was something over-sensitive. He was certainly quite a +captivating fairy prince. + +Chris shook the thick hair back upon her shoulders and surveyed him with +interest. "It's getting better," she said. "It was a horrid cut, wasn't +it? You don't know how it hurt." + +"But I can imagine it," he declared. "I saw immediately that it was +serious. Mademoiselle cannot attempt to walk." + +"Oh, but I must indeed!" protested Chris in dismay. "I shall be drowned +if I stay here." + +He shook his head. "Ah no, no! You shall not stay here. If you will +accept my assistance, all will be well." + +"But you can't--carry me!" gasped Chris. + +He rose to his feet, still smiling. "And why not, little one? Because you +think that I have not the strength?" + +Chris looked up at him speculatively. She felt no shyness; he was not the +sort of person with whom she could feel shy. He was too kindly, too +protecting, too altogether charming, for that. But he was of slender +build, and she could not help entertaining a very decided doubt as to his +physical powers. + +"I am much heavier--and much older--than you think," she remarked at +length. + +He laughed boyishly, as if she had made a joke. "_Mais c'est drôle, +cela_! Me, I have no thoughts upon the subject, mademoiselle. I believe +what I see, and I assure you that I am well capable of carrying you +across the rocks to Valpré. You lodge at Valpré?" + +Chris nodded. "And you? No," hastily checking herself, "don't tell me! +You live in the Magic Cave, of course. I knew you were there. It was why +I came." + +"You knew, mademoiselle?" His eyes interrogated her. + +She nodded again in answer. "You have lived there for hundreds of years. +You were under a spell, and I came and broke it. If I hadn't cut my foot, +you would have been there still. Do you really think you can lift me? And +what shall you do when you come to cross the rocks? They are much too +slippery to walk on." + +He stooped to raise her, still smiling. "Have no fear, mademoiselle! I +know these rocks by heart." + +She laughed with a child's pure merriment. "Oh, I am not afraid, _preux +chevalier_. But if you find me too heavy--" + +"If I cannot carry the queen of the fairies," he interrupted, "I am not +worthy of the name." + +He had her in his arms with the words, holding her lightly and easily, as +if she had been an infant. His eyes smiled reassuringly into hers. + +"So, mademoiselle! We depart for Valpré!" + +"What fun!" said Chris. + +It seemed she was to enjoy her adventure after all, adverse circumstances +notwithstanding. Her foot throbbed and burned, but she put this fact +resolutely away from her. She had found the knight, and, albeit he was +French, she was very pleased with him. He was the prettiest toy that had +ever yet come her way. + +Possibly in this respect the knight's sentiments resembled hers. For she +was very enchanting, this English girl, fresh as a rose and gay as a +butterfly, with a face that none called beautiful but which most paused +to admire. It was the vividness, the entrancing vitality of her, that +caught the attention. People smiled almost unwittingly when little Chris +Wyndham turned her laughing eyes their way; they were so clear, so blue, +so confidingly merry. There was a rare sweetness about her, a spontaneous +charm irresistibly winning. She loved everybody without effort, as +naturally as she loved life, with an absence of self-consciousness so +entire that perhaps it was not surprising that she was loved in return. + +"You are much stronger than you look, _preux chevalier_," she remarked +presently. "But wouldn't you like to set me down while you go and fetch +my sandals? They are over there on the rocks. It would be a pity for them +to get washed away, and I might manage to walk with them on." + +He had brought her safely over the most difficult part of the way. He +seated her at once upon a flat rock, and stooped to assure himself as to +the success of his bandage. + +"It gives you not so much of pain, no?" he asked. + +"It scarcely hurts at all," she assured him. "You will be quick now, +won't you, because I ought to be getting back. If you see Cinders, you +might bring him too." + +"Cinders?" he questioned, pausing. + +"My dog," she explained. "But he doesn't talk French, so I don't suppose +he will follow you." + +He received the information with a smile. "But I speak English, +mademoiselle," he protested for the second time. + +"Ah yes, you do--after a fashion," admitted Chris. "But I don't suppose +Cinders would understand it. It's not very English English." + +He raised his shoulders in a gesture that was purely French. "_La belle +dame sans merci_!" he murmured ruefully. "_Bien_! I will do my possible." + +"Splendid!" laughed Chris. "No one could do more." + +She watched him go with eyes that sparkled with merriment. The trim, +slight figure was quite good to look upon. He went bounding over the +rocks with the sure-footed grace of a chamois. + +"I wonder who he really is," said Chris, "and where he comes from." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +DESTINY + + +Over the rocks went the stranger with the careless speed of youth, +humming to himself in a soft tenor, his brown face turned to the sun. The +pleasant smile was still upon it. He had the look of one in whose eyes +all things are good. + +Ahead of him gleamed the towel with the sandals upon it, sandals that +might have been fashioned for fairy feet. He quickened his pace at sight +of them. But she was charming, this English child! He had never before +seen anyone quite so dainty. And of a courage unique in one so young! + +He was nearing the sandals now, but the sun was in his eyes, and he saw +only the towel spread like a tablecloth over the rock. He sprang lightly +down on to a heap of shingle, and reached for it, still humming the +_chanson_ that the little English girl had somehow put into his head. + +The next instant a deep growl arrested him, and sharply he drew back. +There was something more than a pair of sandals on the towel above him, +something that crouched in an attitude of tense hostility, daring him to +approach. It was only a small creature that thus challenged him, only a +weird black terrier of doubtful extraction, but he bristled from end to +end with animosity. Quite plainly he regarded the sandals as his +responsibility. With glaring eyes and gleaming teeth he crouched, +prepared to defend them. + +The young Frenchman's discomfiture was but momentary. In an instant he +had taken in the situation and the humour of it. + +"But it is the good Cinders!" he said aloud, and extended a fearless +hand. "So, my friend, so! The little mistress waits." + +Cinders' growl became a snarl. He sucked up his breath in furious +protest, threatening murder. But the stranger's hand was not withdrawn. +On the contrary it advanced upon him with the utmost deliberation till +Cinders was compelled to jerk backwards to avoid it. + +So jerking, he missed his footing as his mistress had before him, lost +his balance, and rolled, cursing, clinging, and clambering, over the edge +of the rock. + +Had the Frenchman laughed at that moment he would have made an enemy for +life. But most fortunately he did not regard an antagonist's downfall as +a fit subject for mirth. In fact, being of a chivalrous turn, he grabbed +at the luckless Cinders, clutched his collar, and dragged him up again. +And--perhaps it was the generosity of the action, perhaps only its +obvious fearlessness--he won Cinders' heart from that instant. His +hostility merged into sudden ardent friendship. He set his paws on the +young man's chest, and licked his face. + +Thenceforth he was more than welcome to sandals and towel and even the +effusive Cinders himself, who leaped around him barking in high delight, +and accompanied him with giddy circlings upon his return journey. + +Chris, who had viewed the encounter from afar with much interest, clapped +her hands at their approach. + +"And you weren't a bit afraid!" she laughed. "I couldn't think what you +would do. Cinders looked so fierce. But any one can see you understand +dogs--even English dogs." + +"It is possible that at heart the English and the French resemble each +other more than we think, mademoiselle," observed the Frenchman. "One can +never tell." + +He bent again over the injured foot with the sandal in his hand. + +"It's very good of you to take all this trouble," said Chris abruptly. + +He flashed her a quick smile. "But no, mademoiselle! It gives me pleasure +to be of service to you." + +"I'm sure I don't know what I should have done without you," she +rejoined. "Ah, that is much better. I shall be able to walk now." + +"You think it?" He looked at her doubtfully. + +She nodded. "If you will take me as far as the sand, I shall do +splendidly then. You see, I can't let you come into Valpré with me +because--because--" + +"Because, mademoiselle--?" Up went the black brows questioningly. + +She flushed a little, but her clear eyes met his with absolute candour. +"We have a French governess," she explained, "who was brought up in a +convent, so she is very easily shocked. If she knew that I had spoken to +a stranger, and a man"--she raised her hands with a merry gesture--"she +would have a fit--several fits. I couldn't risk it. Poor mademoiselle! +She doesn't understand our English ways a bit. Why, she wouldn't even let +me paddle if she could help it. I shall have to keep very quiet about +this foot of mine, or it will be '_Jamais encore_!' and '_Encore +jamais_!' for the rest of my natural life. And, after all," pathetically, +"there can be no great harm in dipping one's feet in sea-water, can +there?" + +But the Frenchman looked grave. "You will show your foot to the doctor, +will you not?" he said. + +"Dear me, no!" said Chris. + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +She checked him with her quick, winning smile. + +"Please don't talk French. I like English so much the best. Besides, it's +holiday-time." + +"But, mademoiselle," he persisted, "if it should become serious!" + +"Oh, it won't," she said lightly. "I shall be all right. Nothing ever +happens to me." + +"Nothing?" he questioned, with an answering smile. + +She was hobbling over the stones with his assistance. "Nothing +interesting, I assure you," she said. + +"Except when mademoiselle goes to the cavern of the fairies to look for +the magic knight?" he suggested. + +She threw him a merry glance. "To be sure! I will come and see you again +some day when the tide is low. Is there a dragon in the cave?" + +"He is there only when the tide is high, mademoiselle, a beast enormous +with eyes of fire." + +"And a princess?" asked the English girl, keenly interested. + +"No, there is no princess." + +"Only you and the dragon?" + +"Generally only me, mademoiselle." + +"Whatever do you do there?" she asked curiously. + +His smile was bafflingly direct. "Me? I make magic, mademoiselle." + +"What sort of magic?" + +"What sort? That is a difficult question." + +"May I come and see it?" asked Chris eagerly, scenting a mystery. + +He hesitated. + +"I'll come all by myself," she assured him. + +"_Mais la gouvernante_--" + +"As if I should bring her! No, no! I'll come alone--with Cinders." + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +"If you say that again I shall be cross," announced Chris. + +"But--pardon me, mademoiselle--the governess, might she not object?" + +"Absurd!" said Chris. "I am not a French girl, and I won't behave like +one." + +He laughed at that, plainly because he could not help it. "Mademoiselle +pleases herself!" he observed. + +"Of course I do," returned Chris vigorously. "I always have. I may come +then?" + +"But certainly." + +"When?" + +"When you will, mademoiselle." + +Chris considered. They had reached the firm sand, and she stood still. "I +can't come to-morrow because of my foot, and the day after the tide will +be too late. I shall have to wait nearly a fortnight. How dull!" + +"In a fortnight, then!" said the Frenchman. + +"In a fortnight, _preux chevalier_!" Her eyes laughed up at him. "But I +dare say we shall meet before then. I hope we shall." + +"I hope it also, mademoiselle." He bowed courteously. + +She held out her hand. "I shall come on the tenth of the month--it's my +birthday. I'll bring some cakes, and we'll have a party, and invite the +dragon." Her eyes danced. "We will have some fun, shall we?" + +"I think that we shall not want the dragon," he smiled back. + +"No? Perhaps not. Well, I'll bring Cinders instead." + +"Ah, the good Cinders! He is different." + +"And we will go exploring," she said eagerly. "I shan't be a bit afraid +of anything with you there. The tenth, then! Don't forget! Good-bye, and +thank you ever so much! You won't fail me, will you?" + +He bent low over the impetuous little hand. "I shall not fail you, +mademoiselle. _Adieu_!" + +"_Au revoir_!" she laughed back. "Come along, Cinders! We shall be late +for tea." + +He stood motionless on the sunlit sand and watched her go. + +She was limping, but she moved quickly notwithstanding. Cinders trotted +soberly by her side. + +As she reached the little _plage_, she turned as if aware of his watching +eyes and nonchalantly waved the towel that dangled on her arm. The +sunlight had turned her hair to burnished copper. It made her for the +moment wonderful, and a gleam of swift admiration shot across the +Frenchman's face. + +"_Merveilleux_!" he whispered to himself, and half-aloud, "Good-bye, +little bird of Paradise!" + +With a courteous gesture of farewell, he turned away. When he looked +again, the child, with her glorious, radiant hair, had passed from sight. + +He went back, springing over the rocks, to the Gothic archway that had +fired her curiosity. The tide was rising fast. Already the white foam +raced up to the rocky entrance. He splashed through it, and went within +as one on business bent. + +He was absent for some seconds, and soon a large wave broke with a long +roar and rushed swirling into the cave. As the gleaming water ran out +again, he emerged. + +A single glance was sufficient to show him that retreat by way of the +beach was already cut off. He recognized the fact with a rueful grimace. +The long green waves tumbling along the rocks were rising higher every +instant. + +With a quick glance around him, the young man sprang for an upstanding +rock, reached it in safety, and paused, keenly studying the black face of +the cliff. + +It frowned above him like a rampart, gloomy, terrible, impregnable. He +shrugged his shoulders with another grimace, then, as the foam splashed +up over his feet, leaped lightly onto another rock higher than the first, +whence it was possible to reach a great buttress that jutted outwards +from the cliff itself. + +Once upon this, he began to climb diagonally, clambering like a monkey, +availing himself of every inch that offered foothold. A slip would have +meant instant disaster, but this fact did not apparently occur to him, or +if it did he was not dismayed thereby. He even presently, as he +cautiously worked his way upwards, began to hum again in gay snatches the +song that a child's clear eyes had set running in his brain that +afternoon. + +It was a progress that waxed more perilous as he proceeded. The waves +dashed themselves to cataracts below him. Return was impossible, and many +would have deemed advance equally so. But he struggled on, maintaining +his zigzag course upwards, with nerve unfailing and spirits unimpaired. + +Gulls flew out above his head and circled about him with indignant +protests. He looked somewhat like a gigantic gull himself, his slim white +figure outlined against the darkness of the cliff. He cried back to the +startled birds reassuringly in their own language, but the commotion +continued; and presently, finding precarious foothold on a narrow ledge +halfway up, he stopped to wipe his forehead and laugh with merriment +unfeigned. He was plainly in love with life--one in whose eyes all things +were good, but yet who loved the hazard of them even better. + +The ledge did not permit of much comfort. Nevertheless he managed to +turn upon it and to lean back against the cliff, with his brown face to +sky and sea. He even, after a moment, took out a cigarette and lighted +it. The sun shone full in his eyes, and he seemed to revel in it. A +sun-worshipper also, apparently! + +He smoked his cigarette to the end very deliberately, flicking the +ash from time to time towards the raging water below. When he had +quite finished, he stretched his arms wide with a gesture of sublime +self-confidence, faced about, and very composedly continued his climb. + +It grew more and more arduous as he neared the frowning summit. He had to +feel his way with the utmost caution. Once he missed his footing, and +slipped several feet before he could recover himself, and after this +experience he took a clasp-knife from his pocket and notched himself +footholds where none offered. It was a very lengthy business, and the sun +was dipping downwards to the sea ere he came within reach of his goal. +The top of the cliff overhung where he first approached it, and he had to +work a devious course below it till he came to a more favourable place. + +Reaching a gap at length, he braced himself for the final effort. The +surface of the cliff here was loose, and the stones rattled continually +from beneath his feet; but he clung like a limpet, nothing daunted, and +at last his hands were gripped in the coarse grass that fringed the +summit. Sheer depth was below him, and the inward-curving cliff offered +no possibility of foothold. + +He stood, gathering his strength for a last stupendous effort. It was a +supreme moment. It meant abandoning the support on which he stood and +depending entirely upon the strength of his arms to attain to safety. The +risk was desperate. He stood bracing himself to take it. + +Finally, with an upward fling of the head, as of one who diced with the +gods, he gripped that perilous edge and dared the final throw. Slowly, +with stupendous effort, he hoisted himself up. It was the work of an +expert athlete; none other would have attempted it. + +Up he went and up, steadily, strongly; his head came level with his +hands; he peered over the edge of the cliff. The strain was terrific. The +careless smile was gone from his lips. In that instant he no longer +ignored what lay behind him; he knew the suspense of the gambler who +pauses after he has thrown before he lifts the dice-box to read his fate. + +Up, and still up! The grass was beginning to yield in his clutching +fingers; he dug them into the earth below. Now his shoulders were above +the edge; his chest also, heaving with strenuous effort. To lower himself +again was impossible. His feet dangled over space. And the surging of the +water below him was as the roaring of an angry monster cheated of its +prey. + +He set his teeth. He was nearing the end of his strength. Had he, after +all, attempted the impossible, flung the dice too recklessly, dared his +fate too far? If so, he would pay the penalty swiftly, swiftly, down +among the cruel rocks where many another had perished before him. + +The surging sounded louder. It seemed to be in his brain. It bewildered +him, deprived him of the power to think. A great many voices seemed to +clamour around him, but only one could be clearly heard; only one, and +that the voice of a child close to him--or was that also an illusion born +of the racking strain that had driven all the blood to his head? + +"You won't fail me, will you?" it said. + +Surely his grasp was slackening, his powers were passing, when like a +flashlight those words illuminated his brain. He was as one in deep +waters, swamped and sinking; but that voice called him back. + +He opened his eyes, he drew a great breath. He flung his whole soul into +one last great effort. He remembered suddenly that the little English +girl, the child with the glorious hair and laughing eyes, his +acquaintance of an hour, would be looking for him exactly two weeks from +that moment. He was sure she would look, and--she would be disappointed +if she looked in vain. One must not disappoint a child. + +The memory of her went through him, vivid, enchanting, compelling. It +nerved his sinking heart. It renewed his grip on life. It urged him +upwards. + +Only a child! Only a child! But yet-- + +"I shall not--shall not--fail you!" he gasped, and with the words his +knees reached the top of the cliff. + +His strength collapsed instantly, like the snapping of a fiddle-string. +He fell forward on his face, and lay prone... + +A little later he worked the whole of his body into security, rolled over +on his back with closed eyes to the sky, and waited while his heart +slowed down to its normal rhythmic beat. + +At last, quite suddenly, he sat up and looked around him. The laughter +flashed back into his eyes. He sprang to his feet, mud-stained, +dishevelled, yet exultant. + +He clicked his heels together and faced the sinking sun, slim and +upright, one stiff hand to his head. He had diced with the gods, and he +had won. + +"_Destinée! Je te salue!_" he said, and the next instant whizzed smartly +round with a soldier's precision of movement and marched away towards the +fortress that crowned the hill above the rocks of Valpré. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A ROPE OF SAND + + +Undoubtedly Mademoiselle Gautier was querulous, and equally without doubt +she had good reason to be so; but it made it a little dull for Chris. +Accidents would happen, wherever one went, and what was the good of +making a fuss? + +Of course, every allowance had to be made for poor Mademoiselle in +consideration of the fact that she was torn in pieces by the valiant +attempt to keep her attention focussed upon three children at once. The +effort had not so far been a brilliant success, and Mademoiselle, +conscious within herself of her inability to cope adequately with her +threefold responsibility, being moreover worn out by her gallant struggle +to do so, was inclined to shortness of temper and a severity of judgment +that bordered upon injustice. + +If Chris would persist in flying about the shore in that wild fashion +with her hair loose--that flaming hair which Mademoiselle considered in +itself to be almost indecent--what could be expected but that some +_contretemps_ must of necessity arrive? It was useless for Chris to +protest that it was not her hair that had got her into difficulties, that +she had only left it loose to dry it after her bathe, that there had been +no one to see--at least, no one that mattered--and that the cut on her +foot was solely due to the fact that she had taken off her sand-shoes to +climb over the rocks. Mademoiselle only shook her head with pursed lips. +Chris _était méchante--très méchante_, and no amount of arguing would +make her change her opinion upon that point. + +So Chris abandoned argument while the worried little Frenchwoman bathed +and bandaged her foot anew. She would not be able to bathe again for at +least a week, and this fact was of itself sufficient to depress her into +silence. Yet, after a little, when Mademoiselle was gone, a cheery little +tune rose to her lips. It was not her nature to be depressed for long. + +Mademoiselle Gautier would have been something less than human if she had +not yielded now and then under the perpetual strain in which, for many +days past, she had lived. She had come to Valpré in charge of Chris and +her two young brothers, both of whom had developed diphtheria within a +day or two of their arrival. The children's father was absent in India; +his only sister, upon whom the cares of his family were supposed to rest, +was entertaining Royalty, and was far too important a personage in the +social world to be spared at short notice. And so the whole burden had +devolved upon poor Mademoiselle Gautier, who had been near her wits' end +with anxiety, but had nobly grappled with her task. + +The worst of the business, speaking in a physical sense, was now over. +Both her patients--Maxwell, who was Chris's twin, and little Noel, the +youngest of the family, aged twelve--had turned the corner and were +progressing towards convalescence. Over the latter she still had qualms +of uneasiness, but the elder boy was rapidly picking up his strength and +giving more trouble than he had ever given before in the process. + +By inexorable decree Chris was kept away from the two over whom +Mademoiselle, aided by a convent nurse, still watched with unremitting +care; and it did seem a little hard in the opinion of the harassed +Frenchwoman that her one sound charge could not be trusted to conduct +herself with circumspection during her days of enforced solitude. Chris +Wyndham, however, had been a tomboy all her life, and she could scarcely +be expected to reform at such a juncture. She was not accustomed to +solitude, and her restless spirit chafed after distraction. + +The conventions had never troubled her. Brought up as she had been with +three unruly boys, running wild with them during the whole of her +childhood, it was scarcely to be wondered at if her outlook on life was +more that of a boy than a girl. She had been in Mademoiselle Gautier's +charge during the past three years, but somehow that had not sobered her +very materially. She was spoilt by all except her aunt, who was wont to +remark with some acidity that if she didn't come to grief one way or +another, this would probably continue to be the case for the term of her +natural life. But it was quite plain that Aunt Philippa expected her to +come to grief. Girls like Chris, unless they married out of the +schoolroom, usually played with fire until they burnt their fingers. The +fact of the matter was Chris was far too attractive, and though as yet +sublimely unconscious of the fact, Aunt Philippa knew that sooner or +later it was bound to dawn upon her. She did not relish the prospect of +steering this giddy little barque through the shoals and quicksands of +society, being shrewdly suspicious that the task might well prove too +much for her. For with all her sweetness, Chris was undeniably wilful, a +princess who expected to have her own way; and Aunt Philippa had a +daughter of her own, Chris's senior by three years, as well as a son in +the Guards, to consider. + +No, she did not approve of Chris, or indeed of any of the family, +including her own brother, who was its head. She had not approved of his +gay young wife, Irish and volatile, who had died at the birth of little +Noel. She doubted the stability of each one of them in turn, and plainly +told her brother that he must attend to the launching of his children for +himself. She was willing to do her best for them as children, but as +grown-ups she declined the responsibility. + +His answer to this had been that they must remain children until he could +spare the time to attend to them. The eldest boy, Rupert, was now at +Sandhurst, Maxwell was being educated at Marlborough, and Noel, who was +never very strong, was at present with Chris in Mademoiselle Gautier's +care. The summer holiday at Valpré had been Mademoiselle's suggestion, +and bitterly had she lived to regret it. + +Chris had regretted it, too, for a time, but now that her two brothers +were well on the road to recovery it seemed absurd not to extract such +enjoyment as she could from the situation. Of course, it was lonely, but +there was always Cinders to fall back upon for comfort. She was thankful +that she had insisted upon bringing him, though Mademoiselle had +protested most emphatically against this addition to the party. How she +was to get him back again she had not begun to consider. Doubtless, +however, Jack would manage it somehow. Jack was the aforementioned cousin +in the Guards, a young man of much kindness and resource, upon whom Chris +was wont to rely as a sort of superior elder brother. He would think +nothing of running over to fetch them home and to assist in the smuggling +of Cinders back into his native land. In fact, if the truth were told, he +would probably rather enjoy it. + +In the meantime, here was she, stranded with a damaged foot, and all the +delights of the sea temporarily denied to her. Perhaps not quite all, +when she came to think of it. She could not paddle, but she might manage +to hobble down to the shore, and sit on the sun-baked rocks. Even +Mademoiselle could surely find no fault with this. And she might possibly +find someone to talk to. She was so fond of talking, and it was a +perpetual regret to her that she could not understand the speech of the +Breton fishermen. + +It was on the morning of the second day after her accident that this idea +presented itself. All the previous day she had sat soberly in a corner of +the little garden that overlooked the little _plage_ where none but +_bonnes_ and their charges ever passed. Nothing had happened all day +long, and she had been bored almost to tears. The beaming smiles of +Mademoiselle, who was thankful to have her within sight, had been no sort +of consolation to her, and on the second day she came rapidly to the +conclusion that she would die of _ennui_ if she attempted to endure it +any longer. + +She did not arouse Mademoiselle's voluble protests by announcing her +decision. Mademoiselle was busy with the boys, and what was the good? She +was her own mistress, and felt in no way called upon to ask her +governess's leave. + +Her foot was much better. The nurse had strapped it for her, and, beyond +some slight stiffness in walking, it caused her no pain. Her hair was +tied discreetly back with a black ribbon. It ought to have been plaited, +but as Mademoiselle had no time to bestow upon it and Chris herself +couldn't be bothered, it hung in glory below the confining ribbon to her +waist. + +Whistling to Cinders, who was lying in the sunshine snapping at flies, +she rose from her chair in the shade, dropped the crochet with which +Mademoiselle had supplied her on the grass, and limped to the gate that +opened on to the _plage_. + +At this juncture a rhythmical, unmistakable sound made her pause. A quick +gleam of pleasure shone in her blue eyes. She turned her head eagerly. A +troop of soldiers were approaching along the _plage_. + +Sheer fun flashed into the girl's face. With a sudden swoop she caught up +the lazy Cinders. + +"Now you are not to say anything," she cautioned him. "Only when I tell +you, you are to salute. And mind you do it properly!" + +Cinders licked the animated face so near his own. When not drawn by his +one particular vice, he was always ready to enter into any little game +that his mistress might devise. He watched the oncoming soldiers with +interest, a slight frown between his brows. + +The soldiers were interested also. Chris of the merry eyes was not a +spectacle to pass unheeding. She smiled upon them--there were about forty +of them--with the simplicity of a child. + +Rhythmically the blue and red uniforms began to swing past. Their wearers +stared and grinned at the smiling little _Anglaise_ who was so naively +pleased to see them. + +She raised an imperious hand. "Cinders, salute!" And into Cinders' ear +she whispered, "They are only French, chappie, but you mustn't mind." + +And Cinders, quite unconcerned, obeyed his mistress's behest and lifted a +rigid paw to his head. + +A murmur of appreciation ran through the ranks. The grins widened. One +boy, with bold admiration for the _petite Anglaise_ in his black eyes, +raised his hand abruptly and saluted in return. Every man who followed +did likewise, and Chris was enchanted. Mademoiselle Gautier would have +been horrified had she seen her frank nods of acknowledgment, but +mercifully Fate spared her this. + +Behind the last line of marching men came a trim young officer. His sword +clanked at his heels. He swung along with a free swagger, head up, +shoulders back, eyes fixed straight before him. A gallant specimen was +he, for though of inconsiderable height, he was well made and obviously +of athletic build. His thoughts were evidently far away, his handsome, +boyish face so preoccupied that it had the look of a face in a picture, +patrician, aloof, immobile. + +But a sudden glimpse of the girl at the gate--the child with the shining +hair--brought him back in a fraction of time, transformed him utterly. +Recognition, vivid surprise, undoubted pleasure, flashed over his face. +With an eager smile, he paused, clicked his heels together, saluted. + +She extended an eager hand--her left; Cinders monopolized her right. + +"Oh," she exclaimed, "you! I didn't know you were a soldier!" + +He took the hand over the gate, stooped and kissed it. "But I am +delighted, mademoiselle!" he said. + +Cinders was also delighted, and struggled with yelps of welcome to reach +him. He stood up, laughing, and patted the little creature's head. + +"And the foot?" he questioned. + +"Much better," said Chris. "I am going down to the shore presently. I +wish you could come too." + +He smiled and shook his head, with a glance after his men retreating up +the hill towards the fort. "I wish it also, mademoiselle, but--" + +"Couldn't you?" begged Chris. "This afternoon! Just for a little while! +There's only Cinders and me." + +"_Et Mademoiselle la gouvernante--_" + +"She is looking after the boys, and they are ill," Chris explained +cheerfully. "You might come. I'm wanting someone to talk to rather +badly." + +The young officer hesitated. The blue eyes were very persuasive. + +"I would ask you to come in to tea afterwards," she said, "only +Mademoiselle is so silly--quite cracked, in fact, on some points. But +that needn't prevent your coming down to the shore for a little to play +with Cinders and me. You will, won't you? Say you will!" + +"I will, mademoiselle." His surrender was abrupt, and quite decisive. + +She beamed upon him. "We will play at sand-pictures. You know that game, +I expect. One draws and the other has to guess what it's meant for. I +shall look out for you, then. Good-bye!" + +She waved a careless hand, and he, still smiling, saluted again and +hastened after his men. + +She was certainly unconventional, this English girl, quite superbly so. +She was also sublimely and completely irresistible. + +Did she guess of the power that was hers as she turned back into the +little garden? Did some dim suggestion of a spell yet dormant present +itself as she stood thus on the threshold of her woman's kingdom? +Possibly, for her face was thoughtful, and remained so for quite ten +seconds after her new playmate's departure. + +At the end of the ten seconds she kissed Cinders, with the remark, +"Chappie, that little Frenchman is a trump. I'm sure Jack would think +so." She and Jack Forest generally saw things in the same light, which +may have been the reason that Chris valued his opinion so highly. + +She postponed her visit to the shore till the afternoon in consideration +of the fact that her sense of boredom had completely evaporated. After +all, what was there to be bored about? Life was quite interesting again. + +The tide was on the ebb when she finally set forth. She directed her +steps towards a little patch of firm sand which she regarded as +peculiarly her own. The shore was deserted as usual. The _bonnes_ +preferred the _plage_. + +Would he be there before her, she wondered? Yes; almost at once she spied +him in the distance. He had discarded his uniform, in favour of white +linen. She regretted his preference somewhat, but admitted to herself +that linen might be cooler. + +He was very busy with a swagger-cane, drawing in the sand, far too intent +to note her approach, and as he drew he hummed a madrigal in his soft +voice. + +Noiselessly Chris drew near, a dancing imp of mischief in her eyes. She +wanted to get a glimpse of the work of art that he was elaborating with +such care before he discovered her. But his sensibilities were too subtle +for her. Quite suddenly he became aware of her and whizzed round. + +He made her a low bow, but Chris waived the ceremony of greeting with +impatient curiosity. "I want to see what you are doing. I may look?" + +"But certainly, mademoiselle." + +She came eagerly forward and looked. + +"Oh," she said, "is that the dragon? What an awesome creature! Is he +really like that? How splendidly you have done his scales! And what +frightful claws! Why"--she turned upon him--"you are an artist!" + +He shrugged his shoulders, with his ready smile. "I am whatever +mademoiselle desires." + +"How nice!" said Chris. "Well, go on being an artist, please. Draw +something else!" + +"I think it is your turn now, mademoiselle," he said. + +"Oh, but I'm no good at it," she protested. "I can't compete. You are +much too clever." + +He laughed at that and began again. + +She seated herself on a rock and watched him, deeply interested. + +"How quick you are!" she murmured presently. "Whatever is it, I wonder? A +horse with a man on it! Ah, yes! St. George killing the dragon! +Excellent!" She clapped her hands. "It is a real picture. What a pity for +it to be washed away!" + +"The destiny of all things, mademoiselle," he remarked, still elaborating +his work. + +"Not all things!" she exclaimed. "Look at the Sphinx, and Cleopatra's +Needle, and--and a host of other things!" + +"You think that they will endure for ever?" he said. + +"For a very, very long while," she maintained. + +"But for ever, mademoiselle?" He turned round to her, quite serious for +once. "There is only one thing that endures for ever," he said. + +Chris frowned. "I don't want to think about it. It makes me feel giddy," +she said. "Please go on drawing. The tide won't be up yet." + +He turned back again instantly, looking quizzical. "_Alors_, shall we +build a barrier of stones and arrest the sea?" he suggested. + +"Or weave a rope of sand," amended Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DIVINE MAGIC + + +When Chris went bathing it was her custom to slip a mackintosh over her +bathing costume and to run down to the shore thus equipped, discarding +the mackintosh before entering the water and leaving it in the charge of +Cinders. + +Cinders never went treasure-hunting on these occasions, but invariably +sat bolt upright, brimful of importance, watching his mistress's +proceedings from afar with eager eyes and quivering nose. He would never +be persuaded to follow her, owing to a rooted objection to wetting his +feet. He was, as a rule, very patient; but if she kept him waiting beyond +the bounds of patience he howled in a heartrending fashion that always +brought her back. + +Chris was a good swimmer, and had a boy's healthy love of the sea. Great +was her joy when her injured foot healed sufficiently for her to resume +the morning bathe. Mademoiselle Gautier's pleasure was not so keen, but +then--poor Mademoiselle!--who could expect it? Besides, what could she +know of the exquisite enjoyment of floating on a summer sea with the +summer sun in one's eyes and wave after gentle wave rocking one to drowsy +content? + +The only drawback was the impossibility of diving, Chris longed for a +dive on that brilliant morning, longed for the headlong rush through +water, the greenness of it below the surface, the sparkling spray above. +If only she could have commandeered a boat! But that would have entailed +a boatman, and Mademoiselle would have been scandalized at the bare +suggestion. + +"She would make me bathe in a coat and skirt and a hat if she could," +reflected Chris, shaking the wet hair out of her eyes. + +It was still early, not nine o'clock. The sea lay calm and empty all +about her. Was she really the only person in Valpré, she wondered, who +cared for a morning dip? She had swum some way from the little town, and +now found herself nearing the point where the rocks jutted far out to the +sea. The Magic Cave was at no great distance. She saw the darkness of it +and the water foaming white against the cliffs. Even in the morning +light it was an awesome spot, and she remembered how her friend had told +her that the dragon was there when the tide was up. With a timidity +half-actual, half-assumed, she began to swim back to her starting-point. + +Half-way back, feeling tired, she allowed herself a rest in consideration +of the fact that this was the longest swim that she had ever undertaken. +Serenely she lay on the water with her hair floating about her. The +morning was perfect, the sea like a lake. Overhead sailed a gull with no +flap of wings. She wondered how he did it, and longed to do the same. It +must be very nice to be a gull. + +Regretfully at length--for she was still feeling a little weary--she +resumed her leisurely journey towards the shore. As she did so she caught +the sound of oars grating in rowlocks. She turned her head, saw a boat +cutting through the water at a prodigious rate not twenty strokes from +her, caught a glimpse of its one rower, and without a second's hesitation +flung up an imperious arm. + +"Stop!" she cried. "It's me!" + +He ceased to row on the instant, but the boat shot on. She saw the +concern in his face as he brought it back. His black head shone wet in +the sunlight. He was evidently returning from a bathe himself. + +"It's all right," smiled Chris. "Are you in a great hurry? I wondered if +you would tow me a little way. I've come too far, and I'm just a tiny bit +tired." + +He brought the boat near, and shipped his oars. "I will row you to the +shore with pleasure, mademoiselle," he said. + +"No, no," she said. "Just throw me a rope, that's all." + +"But I have no rope, mademoiselle." + +He leaned down to her as she swam alongside; but Chris still hung back, +with laughing eyes upraised. "You will capsize in a minute, and that +won't help either of us. Really, I don't think I will come out." + +But she gave him her hand, nevertheless. + +His fingers closed upon it in a warm clasp that seemed very sure of +itself. He smiled down at her. "I think otherwise, mademoiselle." + +She found it impossible to resist him, and so yielded with characteristic +briskness of decision. "Very well, if you will let me dive from the boat +afterwards. Hold tight, _preux chevalier_! One--two--three!" + +She came up to him out of the sea like a bird rising from the waves. A +moment he had her slim young body between his hands. Then she stepped +lightly upon the thwart, and he let her go. + +And in that instant something happened: something that was like the +kindling of spirit into flame ran between them--a transforming magic that +only one knew for the Divine Miracle that changes the face of the whole +earth. + +To the girl, with her wet hair all around her and her face of baby-like +innocence, it only meant that the sun shone more brightly and the sea was +more blue for the coming of her _preux chevalier_. And she sang, without +knowing why. + +To the man it meant the sudden, primal tumult of all the deepest forces +of his nature; it meant the awakening of his soul, the birth of his +manhood. + +He was young, barely twenty-two. Very early Ambition had called to him, +and he had followed with a single heart. He had never greatly cared for +social pleasures; he had been too absorbed to enjoy them. But now--in a +single moment--Ambition was dethroned. At the time, though his eyes were +open, he scarcely realized that the old supremacy had passed. Only long +afterwards did he ask himself if the death-knell of his success had begun +to toll on that golden morning; because a man cannot serve two masters. + +"A penny for your thoughts!" laughed the elf in the stern, and he came to +himself to wonder how old she was. "No, never mind!" she added. "I +daresay they are not worth it, and I couldn't pay if they were." + +Her eyes dwelt approvingly upon him as, with sleeves rolled above his +elbows, he began to pull at the oars. He was certainly very handsome. She +wondered that she had not noticed it before. + +"Mademoiselle will not swim so far again all alone?" he suggested gently, +after a few steady strokes. + +She looked at him frowningly. There was no faintest tinge of dignity +about her, only the careless effrontery of childhood and the grace that +is childhood's heritage. + +"I am going to swim as far as the skyline some day," she announced +lightly, "and look over the edge of the world." + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +She held up an imperious hand. "That is one of the things you are not +allowed to say. You are never to talk French to me. It is holiday-time +when I am with you, and I never talk French in the holidays, except to +Mademoiselle, who won't listen to English. And won't you call me Chris? +Everyone else does." + +"Chris?" he repeated after her very softly, his eyes upon her, tenderly +indulgent. "Ah! let it be Christine. I may call you that?" + +"Of course," she returned practically. "My actual name is Christina, but +that's a detail. You can call me Christine if you like it best." + +"I have another name for you," he said, with slight hesitation. + +"Have you?" she asked with interest. "What is it? Do tell me!" + +But he still hesitated. "It will not vex you? No?" + +She flashed him her merriest smile. "Of course not. Why should it?" + +He smiled back upon her, but there was the light of something deeper than +mirth in his eyes. "I call you my bird of Paradise," he said. + +"How pretty!" said Chris. "Quite poetical, _preux chevalier_! You may go +on calling me that if you like, but it's too long for general use. And +what shall I call you? Tell me your Christian name." + +"Bertrand, mademoiselle." + +She held up an admonitory finger. "Chris!" + +"Christine," he said, with his friendly smile. + +She nodded. "Now don't forget! I think I shall call you Bertie because it +sounds more English. I'm going to dive now, so don't row any farther." + +She sprang to her feet and stepped on to the thwart, where she stood +balancing, her arms above her head. + +He waited motionless to see her go. But she remained poised for several +seconds, the sunlight full upon her slim, straight figure and bare, +upraised arms. Her hair, that had begun to dry, fluttered a little in the +breeze. The splendour of it almost dazzled the onlooker. He sat with +bated breath. She was like a young goddess, invoking the spirit of the +morning. + +Suddenly she turned a laughing face over her shoulder. "Bertie!" + +He pulled himself together. "Christine!" he answered, with a quick smile. + +She laughed a little more. "Well done! I wondered if you would remember. +Will you do something for me?" + +"All that you wish," he said. + +"Well, when you come to tea with me in the Magic Cave on the tenth bring +a lantern. Will you?" + +"But certainly," he said. + +"I want to explore," said Chris. "I want to find out all the secrets +there are." + +She turned back to contemplate the deep blue water at her feet, paused a +moment longer; then, "Good-bye, Bertie!" she cried, and was gone. + +He saw the curve of her young body in the sunshine before she +disappeared, felt the spray splash upwards on his face; but he continued +to gaze at the spot where she had stood as a man spellbound, while every +pulse and every nerve throbbed with the thought of her and the mad, sweet +exultation that she had stirred to life within him. Child she might be, +but in that amazing moment he worshipped her as man was made to worship +woman in the beginning of the world. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE BIRTHDAY TREAT + + +It was her birthday, and Chris scampered over the sands with Cinders +tugging at her skirt, singing as she ran. She had three good reasons for +being particularly happy that day--the first and foremost of these being +the long-anticipated adventure that lay before her; the second that her +two young brothers had improved so greatly in health that the tedious +hours of her solitude were very nearly over; and the third that a letter +from Jack, cousin and comrade, was tucked up her sleeve. + +Jack's letters were infrequent and ever delightful. He always struck the +right note. He had written for her birthday to tell her that he had +bought a present for her to celebrate the memorable occasion, but that he +was reserving to himself the pleasure of offering it in person when they +should meet again, which happy event would, he believed, take place at no +distant date. In fact, Chris might see him any day now, since the +privilege of escorting her and her following back to England was to be +his, and he understood that the ruling power had decreed that their +return should not be postponed much longer. + +She was by no means anxious to go; in fact, when the time came she would +be sorry. But she was not thinking of that to-day. It was not her custom +to dwell upon unwelcome things, and Jack had, moreover, made the prospect +attractive by the suggestion that they might possibly spend two or three +days in Paris on their return. Paris under Jack's auspices would be +paradise in Chris's estimation. She could imagine nothing more +enchanting. + +So she and Cinders were in high spirits and prepared to enjoy the +birthday treat to the uttermost. She carried a small--very small--bag of +cakes which Mademoiselle had packed for her picnic--poor Mademoiselle, +who could not understand how any _demoiselle_ could prefer to eat her +food upon the beach. In fact, Chris had only carried the point because it +was her birthday, and naturally Mademoiselle had not been informed that +she had invited a guest to the meagre feast. + +Chris, however, was quite content. With the serenity of childhood she was +sure there would be enough. She even told herself privately that it would +be the best birthday-party she had ever had. And Cinders was apparently +of the same opinion. + +They raced nearly all the way to the rocks, spurred by the sight of a +familiar white figure awaiting them there. He came to meet them with his +customary courtesy, bare-headed, with shining eyes. + +"Will you accept my good wishes?" he said, as he bent over her hand. + +She laughed and thanked him. "I'm getting horribly old. Do you know I'm +seventeen? I shall have to put up my hair next year." + +"I grieve to hear it," he protested. + +"Never mind. It isn't next year yet. Have you remembered the lantern? +Where is it? No, I don't want any help, thank you. I balance best alone." + +She was already skipping over the rocks with arms extended. He followed +her lightly, ready to give his hand at a moment's notice. But Chris was +very sure-footed, and though she allowed him to take her parcel, she +would not accept his assistance. + +"I haven't brought anything to drink," she remarked presently, "I hope +you don't mind." + +No, he minded nothing. Like herself, he was enjoying the treat to the +uttermost. He had not forgotten the lantern. It was waiting by the Magic +Cave. He begged that she would not hasten. The tide would not turn yet. + +But Chris was in an impetuous mood. She wanted to start upon her +adventure without delay. Should they not explore first and have tea +after? It should be exactly as she wished, he assured her. Was it not her +_fête_? + +But when at length she reached the shingle under the cliffs, she found a +surprise in store for her that made her change her mind. + +A white napkin was spread daintily upon a flat-topped rock, and on this +were set a large pink and white cake and a box of _fondants_. + +"Goodness!" ejaculated Chris. + +"_Merveilleux_!" exclaimed the Frenchman. + +She turned upon him. "Now, Bertie, you needn't pretend you are not at the +bottom of it, for I am old enough to know better. No," as he shrugged his +shoulders and spread out his hands, "it's not a bit of good doing that. +It doesn't deceive me in the least. I know you did it, and you're a +perfect dear, and it was sweet of you to think of it. It's the best +picnic I ever went to. And you even thought of tea," catching sight of a +small spirit-kettle that sang in a sheltered corner. "Let's have some at +once, shall we? I'm so thirsty." + +He had forgotten nothing. From a basket he produced cups, saucers, +plates, knives, and arranged them on his improvised table. + +Chris surveyed the cake with frank satisfaction. "What a mercy the gulls +didn't seize it while your back was turned! Do cut it, quick!" + +"No, no! You will perform that ceremony," smiled Bertrand. + +"Shall I? Oh, very well. I expect I shall do it very badly. What lovely +sweets! Did they come out of the Magic Cave? I hope they won't vanish +before we come to eat them." + +"I thought that my bird of Paradise would like them," he said softly. + +"Your bird of Paradise loves them," promptly returned Chris. "In fact, if +you ask me, I think she is inclined to be rather greedy. Please take the +kettle off. It's spluttering. You must make the tea if I'm to cut the +cake. And let's be quick, shall we? I believe it's going to rain!" + +They were not very quick, however, for, as Chris herself presently +remarked, one couldn't scramble over such a cake as that. And the rain +came down in a sharp shower before they had finished, and drove them into +the Magic Cave for shelter. + +The girl's young laughter echoed weirdly along the rocky walls as she +entered, and she turned with a slightly startled expression to make sure +that her companion was close to her. + +He had paused to rescue the remains of the feast. "Quick!" she called to +him. "You will be drenched." + +"_Je viens vite--vite_," he called back, and in a few seconds was at her +side. + +"_Comment_!" he said. "You are afraid, no?" + +"No," said Chris, colouring under his look of inquiry. "But it's horribly +eerie. Where is Cinders?" + +A muffled bark from the depths of the cave answered her. Cinders was +obviously exploring on his own account, and believed himself to be on the +track of some quarry. + +"Light the lantern--quick!" commanded Chris, her misgivings diverted into +another channel. "We mustn't lose him. Isn't it cold!" + +She shivered in her light dress, but turned inwards resolutely. + +"_Tenez_!" exclaimed the Frenchman, quick to catch her mood. "I will go +to find the good Cinders. He is not far." + +"And leave me!" said Chris quickly. + +"_Eh bien_! Let us remain here." + +"And leave Cinders!" said Chris. + +He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then stooped without further words +and kindled his lamp. + +The rain was still beating in fierce grey gusts over the sea and +pattering heavily upon the shingle. The waves broke with a sullen +roaring. Evidently a gale was rising. + +Chris, with her face to the darkness of the cave, shivered again. Somehow +her spirit of adventure was dashed. + +The flame of Bertrand's lamp shone vaguely inwards, revealing a narrow +passage that wound between rugged cliff-walls into darkness. The rock +gleamed black and shiny on all sides. Underfoot were stones of all shapes +and sizes, worn smooth by the sea. + +"What a ghastly place!" whispered Chris, and something seemed to catch +the whisper and repeat it sibilantly a great many times as if learning it +off by heart. + +"Permit me to precede you," said Bertrand. "You will find it not so +narrow in a moment. If you look behind you, you will see the sea as in +the frame of a picture. It is beautiful, is it not?" + +His soft voice and casual words reassured her. She looked and admired, +though the sea was grey and the shore all blurred with rain. + +"There will be a rainbow soon," he said. "See! It grows more light +already." + +But he was looking at her as he spoke, though his glance fell directly +she turned towards him. + +"Do you come here often?" she asked. + +"But very often," he said. + +"And what do you do here?" + +"I will show you by and bye." + +"Very well," she said eagerly. "Then we won't go any farther when we have +found Cinders." + +But this last suggestion was not so easy of accomplishment. The darkness +had swallowed Cinders as completely as though the jaws of the dragon had +closed upon him. + +"Where can he be?" said Chris, a quiver of distress in her voice. + +"Have no fear! We will find him," Bertrand assured her. + +He moved forward, holding the lantern to guide her. She kept very close +to him, especially when a curve in the passage hid the entrance behind +her. Her fancy for exploring was rapidly dwindling. + +As he had told her, the passage soon widened. They emerged into a cave of +some size and considerable height. + +"He will be here," announced Bertrand, with conviction. + +But he was mistaken; Cinders was nowhere to be seen. + +Chris looked around her wonderingly. This chamber in the rock was unlike +anything she had ever seen before. The very atmosphere seemed ominous, +like the air of a dungeon. + +"And you come here often!" she said again incredulously. + +He smiled, and, raising his lantern, pointed to a crevice just above his +head. "That is where I keep my magic." + +Chris stood on tiptoe, and peered curiously. He reached up with his free +hand, and drew forward something that gave back dully the flare of the +lamp. She saw a black tin box that looked like a miniature safe. + +He looked at her with a smile. "It contains my treasures--my black arts," +he said, "and my future." He pushed it back again and turned. "Come! we +will find the naughty Cinders." + +Chris was on the point of asking eager questions regarding this new +mystery, but before she could begin to utter them a long and piteous +howl--the howl of a lost dog--sent them helter-skelter from her mind. + +"Oh, listen!" she cried. "That's Cinders!" + +She sprang forward while the miserable sound was still echoing all about +them. "Oh, isn't it dreadful?" she gasped. "Do you think he is hurt?" + +"No, no!" Bertrand hastened to reassure her. "He is only afraid. We will +go to him." + +He stretched out a hand to her, and she put hers into it as naturally as +a child. Her chin was quivering, and her voice, when she tried to call to +the dog, broke down upon a sob. + +"He will never know where we are because of the echoes," she said. + +"He is not far," declared the Frenchman consolingly. "See, here is the +passage. They say that it was made by the contrabandists, but it leads to +nowhere; it has been blocked since many years. Do not fall on the stones; +they are very slippery." + +A passage, even narrower than the first, led from the cave in which they +had been standing. Bertrand went first, his hand stretched out behind +him, still holding hers. + +They had scrambled in this order about a dozen yards when again they +heard Cinders' cry for help--a pathetic yelping considerably farther away +than it had been before. The unlucky wanderer seemed to have lost his +head in the darkness and to be running hither and thither in wild dismay. + +"What shall we do?" said Chris in tears. "I've never heard him cry like +that before." + +Bertrand paused to listen. "The passage divides near here," he said. +"Courage, little one! We may find him at any moment. Will you then wait +while I search a little farther? I will leave you the lantern. I have +some matches." + +"Oh, please don't leave me!" entreated Chris. "Why can't I come too?" + +"It is too rough for you," he said. "And there are two passages. If I do +not find him in the one, without doubt he will return by the other to +you." + +"You--you'd better take the lantern then," said Chris, with a gulp. "If I +am only going to stand still, I--I shan't want it." + +"No, no--" he began. + +But she insisted. "Yes, really. You will want it. I will wait for you +here, if you think it best. Only you will promise not to be long?" + +"I promise," he said. + +"Then be quick and go," she urged, drawing her hand from his. "We must +find him--we must." + +But when his back was turned, and she saw him receding from her with the +light, she covered her face and trembled. It was the most horrible +adventure she had ever experienced. + +For a long time she heard his footsteps echoing weirdly, but when they +died away at last and she stood alone in the utter, vault-like darkness, +her heart failed her. What if he also lost his way? + +The darkness was terrible. It seemed to press upon her, to hurt her. +Through it came the faint sounds of trickling water from all directions +like tiny voices whispering together. Now and then something moved with a +small rustling. It might have been a lizard, a crab, or even a bat. But +Chris thought of snakes and stiffened to rigidity, scarcely daring to +breathe. The roar of the sea sounded remote and far, yet insistent also +as though it held a threat. And, above all, thick and hard and +agitatingly distinct, arose the throbbing of her frightened heart. + +All the horrors she had ever heard or dreamt of passed through her brain +as she waited there, yet with a certain desperate courage she kept +herself from panic. Cinders might run against her at any moment--at any +moment. And even if not, even if she were indeed quite alone in that +awful place, she had heard it said that God was nearer to people in the +dark. + +"O God," she whispered, "I am so frightened. Do bring them both back +soon." + +After the small prayer she felt reassured. She touched the clammy wall on +each side of her, and essayed a tremulous whistle. It was a brave little +tune; she knew not whence it came till it suddenly flashed upon her that +she had heard it on Bertrand's lips on the day that he had drawn his +pictures in the sand. And that also renewed her courage. After all, what +had she to fear? + +Over and over again she whistled it with growing confidence, improving +her memory each time, till suddenly in the middle of a bar there came the +rush and patter of feet, a yelp of sheer, exuberant delight, and Cinders, +the wanderer, wet, ecstatic, and quite shameless, leaped into her arms. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE SPELL + + +She hugged him to her heart in the darkness, all her fears swept away in +the immensity of her joy at his recovery. + +"But, Cinders, how could you? How could you?" was the utmost reproof she +could find it in her heart to bestow upon the delinquent. + +Cinders explained in his moist, eager way that it had been quite +unintentional, and that he was every whit as thankful to be back safe and +sound in her loving arms as she was to have him there. They discussed the +subject at length and forgave each other with considerable effusion, +eventually arriving at the conclusion that no blame attached to either. + +And upon this arose the question, What of the Frenchman, Chris's _preux +chevalier_, who had so nobly adventured himself upon a fruitless quest? + +"He promised he wouldn't be long," she reflected hopefully. "We shall +just have to wait till he turns up, that's all." + +She would not suffer her rescued favourite to leave her arms again, and +they wiled away some time in the joy of reunion. But the minutes began to +drag more and more slowly, till at length anxiety came uppermost again. + +Chris began to grow seriously uneasy. What could have happened to him? +Had he really lost his way? And if so what could she do? + +Plainly nothing, but wait--wait--wait! And she was so tired of the +darkness; her eyes ached with it. + +Her fears mustered afresh, fantastic fears this time. She began to see +green eyes glaring at her, to hear stealthy footfalls above the long, +deep roar of the sea, to feel the clammy presence of creatures unknown +and hostile. Cinders, too, weary of inaction, began to whimper, to lick +her face persuasively, and to suggest a move. + +But Chris would not be persuaded. She could without doubt have groped her +way back to the cave where Bertrand kept his magic, and even thence to +the shore. But she did not for a moment contemplate such a proceeding. +She would have felt like a soldier deserting his post. Sooner or later +Bertrand would return and look for her here, and here he must find her. + +But her fears were growing more vivid every moment, and when Cinders, +infected thereby, began to growl below his breath and to bristle under +her hand she became almost terrified. + +Desperately she grappled with her trepidation and flung it from her, chid +Cinders for his foolish cowardice, and fell again to whistling Bertrand's +melody with all her might. + +Clear and flutelike it echoed through the desolate tunnels, startlingly +distinct to her strained nerves. Sometimes the echoes seemed to mock her, +but she would not be dismayed. It might be a help to Bertrand, and it +certainly helped herself. + +A long time passed, how long she had not the vaguest notion. Cinders, +grown tired of his own impatience, rested his chin on her shoulder and +went phlegmatically to sleep, secure in her assurance that there was +nothing whatever to be afraid of. Small creature though he was, her arms +ached from holding him, yet she would not let him go, he was too precious +for that; and each minute that passed, so she told herself, brought the +end of her vigil nearer. + +Her heart was like lead within her, but she would not give way to +despair. He was bound to come in the end. + +And come in the end he did, but not till her hopes had sunk so low that +when she heard the first faint sound of his returning feet she would not +believe her ears. But when Cinders heard it also, and raised his head to +growl, she suffered herself to be convinced. He really was coming at +last. + +His progress was very slow, maddeningly slow it seemed to Chris. She +watched eagerly for the first sign of light from his lantern, but she +watched in vain. No faintest ray came to illumine the darkness. Surely it +was he; it could be none other! + +Nearer and nearer came the footsteps, slow and groping. She listened till +she could bear it no longer; then "Bertrand!" she cried wildly. "Bertie! +Oh, is it you! Do speak!" + +Instantly his voice came to her out of the darkness. "Yes, yes. It is me, +little one. I have had--an accident. I am desolated--afflicted; there are +no words that can say. And you awaiting me still, my little bird of +Paradise, singing so bravely in the darkness!" + +"Whistling," corrected Chris; "I can't sing. What on earth has happened? +Are you hurt?" + +"No, no! It is nothing--a _bagatelle_. Ah, but you have found the good +Cinders! I am rejoiced indeed!" + +"Yes, he came to me--ages ago. It is you I have been waiting for all this +time. I thought you were never coming. At least, of course, I knew you +would come; but oh"--with a great sigh--"it has been a long time!" + +"Ah, pardon me!" he said. "But why did you wait?" + +"Of course I waited," said Chris. "I said I would." + +"And you were not afraid? No?" + +He was standing close to her now, and Cinders was wriggling to reach and +welcome him. + +"Yes, a little," Chris admitted. "That's why I whistled. But it's all +right now. Do let us get out." + +"Ah!" he said. "But I fear--" + +"What?" she asked, with sudden misgiving. + +He hesitated a moment, then, "The tide," he said. + +"Bertie!" For the first time Chris's bravely sustained courage broke +down. She thrust out a clinging hand and clutched his arm. "Are we going +to be drowned--here--in the dark?" she said, gasping. + +"No, no, no!" His reply was instant and reassuring. He took her hand and +held it. "It is not that. The water will not reach us. It is only that we +cannot return until the tide permit." + +"Oh, well!" Chris's relief eclipsed her dismay. "That doesn't matter so +much," she said. "Let us get out of this horrid little tunnel, anyhow. +Oh, darling Cinders! He wants to kiss you. Do you mind?" + +Bertrand laughed involuntarily. But she was droll, this English child! +Was it possible that she did not realize the seriousness of the dilemma +in which she found herself? Well, if not--he shrugged his shoulders--it +was not for him to enlighten her. As comrades in trouble they would +endure their incarceration as bravely as they might. + +There was a faint spice of enjoyment in Chris's next remark: "Well, we +are all together, that's one thing, and we've got the cake for supper, if +we can only find it. Will you go first, please, so that I can hold on to +you. It will be nice to see the light again. What happened to the +lantern? Did you drop it?" + +"I fell," he said. "I thought that I heard the good Cinders in front of +me, and I ran. I tripped and struck my head. It stunned me. _Après cela_, +I lay--_depuis longtemps_--insensible till I awoke and heard you singing +so far--so far away." + +"Whistling," said Chris. + +"I thought it was a bird at the dawn," he said, "flying high in the sky. +And I lay and listened." + +"My dear _chevalier_, you wanted shaking," she interposed, with +pardonable severity. "Are you sure you are awake now? Oh, look! There is +a ray of light! How heavenly! But why didn't you relight the lantern?" + +"It was broken," he said, "and useless. Also I found that I had only +three matches." + +"I hope it will be a lesson to you," she rejoined, breathing a sigh of +relief as they emerged into the dim twilight of the cave. "Oh, isn't it +nice to see again! I feel as if I have been blindfolded for years." + +"Poor little one!" he said. "Can you ever pardon me?" + +They stood together in the deep gloom. They could hear the water lapping +the sides of the passage that led inwards from the shore. + +"It must be knee-deep round the bend," said Chris. "Yes, I'll forgive +you, Bertie. I daresay it wasn't altogether your fault, and I expect your +head aches, doesn't it? I hope it isn't very bad. Is there a very big +lump? Let me feel." + +She passed her hand over his forehead till her fingers encountered the +excrescence they sought. + +"Oh, you poor boy, it's enormous!" she exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me +before? We must bathe it at once." + +But Bertrand laughed and gently drew her hand away. "No--no! It is only a +_bagatelle_. Think no more of it, I beg. I merited it for my negligence. +Now, while there is still light, let us decide where you can with the +greatest convenience pass the night." + +He was prepared for some measure of dismay, as he thus presented to her +the worst aspect of the catastrophe. But Chris remained serene. She was +rapidly recovering her spirits. + +"Oh, yes," she said. "And poor Cinders too! We must find him a nice comfy +corner. He can lie on my skirt and keep me warm. Oh, do you know, I heard +such a funny story the other day about this very cave. I'll tell you +about it presently. But do find the cake first. I'm so hungry. We needn't +go to bed yet, need we? It must be quite early. What time do you think +the tide will let us get out? Poor Mademoiselle will think I'm drowned." + +Chris's awe of the Magic Cave had evidently evaporated. The picnic mood +had returned to take its place, and Bertrand knew not whether to be more +astounded or relieved. He began to feel about for the basket containing +the remnants of their feast, while Chris with much volubility and not a +little merriment explained the situation to Cinders. + +He calculated that they would be at liberty in the early hours of the +morning unless he tempted Fate a second time by climbing the cliff. But +Chris would not for a moment consider this proposition, and he was too +shaken by his recent fall to feel assured of success if he persisted. +Moreover, he seriously doubted if any boat could be brought within reach +of her while the tide remained high. + +Plainly his only course was to follow her lead and make the best of +things. If she managed to extract any enjoyment from a most difficult +situation, so much the better. He could but do his utmost to encourage +this enviable frame of mind. + +Chris, munching cheerfully in the twilight, had evidently quite forgotten +her woes. They went down the passage later as far as the bend, and looked +at the seething water, all green in the evening light, that held them +captive. + +"I wish it wasn't going to be quite dark," she said when they returned. +"But if we hold hands and talk I shan't mind. That was a lovely cake of +yours, Bertie, I shall never forget it." + +They found a ledge to sit on, Chris with her feet curled up; and Cinders, +grown sleepy after a generous meal, pressed against her. She protested +when Bertrand took off his coat and wrapped it round her, but he would +take no refusal. There was a penetrating dampness about the place that he +feared for her. + +"If you sleep, you will feel it," he said. + +"But I'm not going to sleep," declared Chris. "I never felt more +wide-awake in my life. I often do at bedtime. I hope you are not feeling +sleepy either, for I want to talk all night long." + +Bertrand professed himself quite willing to listen. "You were going to +tell me something about this cave," he reminded her. + +"Oh, yes." Chris swooped upon the subject eagerly. "Manon, the little +maid-of-all-work, was telling me. She said that no one ever comes here +because it is haunted. That's what made Cinders and me call it the Magic +Cave. She said that it was well known that no one ever came out the same +as they went in even in the daytime, and if any one were to spend the +night here they would be under a spell for the rest of their lives. Just +think of that, Bertie! Do you think we shall be? She didn't tell me what +the spell was. I expect it was something too bad to repeat. That's how +Cinders and I came to make up about the knight and the dragon. I hope the +dragon won't find us, don't you?" + +She drew a little nearer to him and slipped a hand inside his arm. He +pressed it close to him, + +"Have no fear, _chérie_. No evil can touch you while I am here." + +"I should be terrified if you weren't," she told him frankly. "Did you +ever hear about the spell? Do you know what it means?" + +"Yes," he said slowly; "I have heard. That was in part why I came here at +first, because I knew that I should be alone. I had need of solitude in +order to accomplish that which I had begun." + +"Your magic?" queried Chris eagerly. + +"Yes, little one, my magic. But"--he was smiling--"I have never remained +here for the night. And the charm, you say, is not so potent during the +day." + +"You may be under it already," she said. "I wonder if you are." + +"Ah!" Bertrand's tone was suddenly grave. "That also is possible." + +"I wonder," she said again. "That may be what made you knock your head. +One never knows. But tell me about your magic. What is it? What do you +do?" + +"I think," he said, "I calculate. And I build." + +"What do you build?" + +"It is a secret," he said. + +"But you will tell me!" + +"Why, Christine?" + +"Because I do so want to know," she urged coaxingly. "And I can keep +secrets really. All English people can. Try me!" She thrust forward the +little finger of the hand that his arm held. "You must pinch it," she +explained, "as hard as you can. And if I don't even squeak you will know +I am to be trusted." + +He took the finger thus heroically proffered, hesitated a second, then +put it softly to his lips. "I would trust you with my life," he said, +"with my honour, with all that I possess. Christine, I am an inventor, +and I am at the edge of a great discovery--a discovery that will make the +French artillery the greatest in the world." + +"Goodness!" said Chris, with a gasp; then in haste, "Not--not greater +than ours surely!" + +He turned to her impetuously in the darkness, her hands caught into his. +"Ah, you say that because you are English! And the English--_il faut que +les anglais soient toujours, toujours les premiers_--is it not so--always +and in all things? Yet consider! What is it--this national rivalry--this +strife for the supremacy? We laugh at it, you and I. We know what it is +worth." + +But Chris was too young to laugh. "I don't quite like it," she said. "I'm +very sorry. Shall we talk of something else?" + +But he still held her hands closely clasped. "Listen, Christine, my +little one! These things they pass. They are as a dream in the midst of a +great Reality. They are not the materials of which we weave our life. +Envy, ambition, success--what are they? Only a procession that marches +under the windows, and we look out above them, you and I, to the great +heaven and the sun; and"--something more than eagerness thrilled suddenly +in his voice--"we know that that is our life--the Spark Eternal that +nothing can ever quench." + +He ceased abruptly. Cinders had stirred in his sleep, and she had drawn +away one of her hands to fondle him. + +There fell short silence. Then, her voice a little doubtful, she spoke-- + +"You are not ambitious, then?" + +He threw himself back against the rock, and with the movement a certain +tension went out of the atmosphere--a tension of which she had been +vaguely aware almost without knowing it. + +"Ah, yes, I am ambitious," he said. "I am a builder. I have my work to +do. And I shall succeed. I shall make that which all the world will envy. +I shall be famous." He broke off to laugh exultantly. "Oh, it will be +good--good!" he said. "One does not often reach the summit while one is +yet young. There are times when it seems too wonderful to be true; and +yet I know--I know!" + +"Is it a gun?" said Chris. + +"Yes, _mignonne_, a gun! It is also a secret--thine and mine." + +She uttered a faint sigh. "I wish it wasn't a gun, Bertie. If it were +only an aeroplane, or something that didn't hurt anyone! Of course, you +are a soldier and a Frenchman. I couldn't expect you to understand." + +He laughed rather ruefully. "But I understand all. And you do not love +the French? No?" + +"Not so very much," said Chris honestly. "Of course, I'm not being +personal. I liked you from the first." + +"Ah! But really?" he said. + +"Yes, really; and so did Cinders. He always knows when people are nice. +We shall miss you quite a lot when we go home." + +"Quite a lot!" Bertrand repeated the phrase musingly as if questioning +with himself how much it might mean. + +"Yes," she went on, "we were so lonely till you came." She broke off to +yawn. "Do you know, I'm beginning to get sleepy. Is it the spell, do you +think, or only the dark?" + +"It is not the spell," he said, with conviction. + +"No?" She moved uneasily. "I'm not very comfy," she remarked. "I wish I +were like Cinders. He can sleep in any position. It must be so +convenient." + +"Will you, then, lean on my shoulder?" Bertrand suggested, with a touch +of diffidence. + +She accepted the offer with alacrity. "Oh, yes, if you don't mind. It +would be better than nodding one's head off, as if one were in church, +wouldn't it? But what of you? Aren't you sleepy at all?" + +"I have no desire to sleep," he told her gravely. + +"Haven't you?" Chris's head descended promptly upon his shoulder. "I've +never been up all night before," she said. "It feels so funny. How the +sea roars! I wish it wouldn't. Bertie, you're sure there isn't such a +thing as a dragon really, aren't you?" + +His hand closed fast upon hers. "I am quite sure, _chérie_." + +"Thank you. That's nice," she murmured. "I haven't said my prayers. Do +you think it matters as I'm not going to bed? I really am tired." + +"No, dear," he said. "_Le bon Dieu_ understands." + +She moved her head a little. "Are you going to say yours, Bertie?" + +"Perhaps, little one." + +"Oh, that's all right," she said comfortably. "Good-night!" + +"Good-night, _chérie_!" + +His lips were close, so close to her forehead. He could even feel +her hair blow lightly against his face. But he remained rigid as a +sentry--watchful and silent and still. + +Once during that long night she stirred in her sleep--stirred and nestled +closer to him with an inarticulate murmur; and he turned, moving for the +first time, and gathered her into his arms, holding her there like an +infant against his breast. Thereafter she slept a calm, unbroken slumber, +serenely unconscious of him and serenely content. + +And the man sat motionless, with eyes wide to the darkness, grave and +reverent as the eyes of a warrior keeping his vigil on the eve of +knighthood. But his heart throbbed all night long like the beat of a drum +that calls men into action. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN THE CAUSE OF A WOMAN + + +To say that Mademoiselle Gautier was extremely anxious over her young +charge's disappearance would be to state the case with ludicrous +mildness. She was frantic, she was frenzied with anxiety. + +All the evening and half the night she was literally dancing with +suspense, intermingled with fits of despair that reduced her, while they +lasted, to a state of absolute collapse. Before midnight all Valpré knew +that the little English _demoiselle_ was missing, and all Valpré scoured +the shore for her in vain. Some of the fishermen put out in boats and +continued the search by moonlight as near the rocks as it was possible to +go. But all to no purpose. + +When the moon went down, they abandoned the quest; but at dawn, when the +tide was on the turn, they were out again, searching, searching for a +white, drowned face and a mass of red-brown hair. But the sea only +laughed in the sunlight and revealed no secrets. + +Mademoiselle was quite prostrate by that time. She lay in a darkened room +with her head swathed in a black shawl, and called upon all the holy +saints to witness that she had always predicted this disaster. + +Chris's two young brothers slept fitfully, waking now and then to assure +each other uneasily that of course she would turn up sooner or later +sound in wind and limb; she always did. + +Noel, the younger, who was more or less in Chris's confidence, gave it as +his opinion that she had eloped with someone, that officer-chap she met +the other day, he'd lay a wager! But Maxwell poured contempt upon the +bare suggestion. Chris--elope with a Frenchman! He could as easily see +himself eloping with the Goat--a pet name that he and his brother had +bestowed upon Mademoiselle Gautier, and which fitted her rather well upon +occasion. + +Three hours after sunrise the prodigal returned, lightfooted, gay of +mien. She was alone when she arrived, having firmly refused Bertrand's +escort farther then the end of the _plage_, lest poor Mademoiselle, who +hated men, should have hysterics. But the tale of her adventures had +preceded her. All Valpré knew what had happened, and watched her with +furtive curiosity. All Valpré knew that the _petite Anglaise_ had spent +the night in a cave with one of the officers from the fortress, and all +Valpré waited with bated breath, prepared to be duly scandalized. + +But Chris was sublimely unconscious of this. Of course, she knew that +Mademoiselle would be shocked, but then Mademoiselle's feelings were so +extremely sensitive upon all points moral that it was almost impossible +to spend an hour in her company without in some fashion doing violence +to them. One simply tumbled over them, as it were, at every turn. + +She expected and encountered the usual storm of reproach, but when +Mademoiselle proceeded to inform her that she was ruined for life, she +opened her blue eyes wide and barely suppressed a chuckle. She professed +penitence and even asked forgiveness for all the anxiety she had caused, +but she could not see that what had happened possessed the tragic +importance that Mademoiselle assigned to it. According to her distracted +governess, she had almost better have been drowned. For the life of her, +Chris couldn't see why. + +When the tempest had somewhat spent itself, she retreated to her +brothers, to whom she poured out a full and animated account of the +night's happenings. They all agreed that Mademoiselle must have rats in +the upper story to make such a pother over the adventure, though Maxwell, +who held himself to be approaching years of discretion, gave it as his +opinion that the whole thing was a piece of bad luck and an experiment +not to be repeated. + +"It's over anyhow," said Chris. "And we are none the worse, are we, +Cinders? So all's well that ends well, and now I'm going to get something +to eat." + +For the next two days, Mademoiselle continuing to be hysterical at +intervals, Chris was exemplary in her behaviour. Perhaps even she had had +a surfeit of adventure for the time being. She certainly had no further +urgent desire to explore caves, magic or otherwise. She was also a little +tired, and inclined, after her excitement, to feel proportionately slack. +But early on the morning of the third day her strenuous nature reasserted +itself. + +The sea and the sunshine awoke her together and she arose and dressed, +eager to revel in them both. She wondered if Bertrand were out in his +boat, and rather hoped she might encounter him. + +Bertrand, however, was nowhere to be seen, and she proceeded to enjoy her +morning bathe in solitude. It was an enchanting day, and his absence did +not depress her. The tide was low, and she had to wade out a considerable +distance through the rippling waves; but she reached deep water at last +and proceeded forthwith to enjoy herself to her utmost capacity. + +She spent a delicious half-hour thus, and it was with regret that she +finally returned to the shallows and began to wade back to the point +where Cinders, with her mackintosh, awaited her. + +Just beyond this spot was a fair stretch of sand, and she was surprised +as she drew nearer to the shore to hear voices and to see a group of men +in the blue and red uniform of the garrison gathered upon what she had +come to regard as her own particular playground. She peered at them for +some seconds from beneath her hand, for the sun was in her eyes; and +suddenly a queer little thrill, that was not quite fear and not solely +excitement, ran through her. For all in a moment, ringing on the still +air of early morning, there came to her ears the clash of steel meeting +steel. + +"Good gracious!" she said aloud. "It's a duel!" + +A duel it undoubtedly was. She had a clear view of the whole scene, +distant but distinct, could even see the flash of the swords, the rapid +movements of the two combatants. It impressed her like a scene in a +theatre. She did not wholly grasp the reality of it, though her heart was +beating very fast. + +Knee-deep, she stood in the sparkling water, outlined against the blue of +sky and sea, watching. Several seconds passed, during which they seemed +to be fighting with some ferocity. Then, obeying an impulse of which she +was scarcely aware, she moved on through the swishing waves, drawing +nearer at every step, hearing every instant more distinctly the ominous +clashing of the swords. + +When only ankle-deep, she paused again. Perhaps, after all, it was only a +game--a fencing-match, a trial of skill! Of course, that must be it! Was +it in the least likely to be anything more serious? And yet something +within told her very decidedly that this was not so. A trial of skill it +might be, but it was being conducted in grim earnest. + +She said to herself that she would slip on her mackintosh and go. But an +overwhelming desire to investigate a little further kept her dallying. +She had an ardent longing to see the faces of the antagonists. Later she +marvelled at her own temerity, but at the time this overmastering desire +was the only thing she knew. + +She came out of the sea, reached her faithful attendant Cinders, slipped +on the mackintosh, and advanced nearer still to the little group of +officers upon the beach, buttoning it mechanically as she went. + +Ah, she could see them now! One faced her--a mean-visaged man, fierce, +ferret-like, with glaring eyes and evil mouth. She hated him at sight, +instinctively, without question. + +He was thrusting savagely at his opponent, whose back was towards her--a +slim, straight back familiar to her, so familiar that she recognized him +beyond all doubting, no longer needing to see his face. And yet, +involuntarily it seemed, she drew nearer. + +He was fencing without impetuosity, yet with a precision that even to her +untrained perception expressed a most deadly concentration. Lithe and +active, supremely confident, he parried his enemy's attack, and the grace +of the man, combined with a certain mastery that was also in a fashion +familiar to her, attracted her irresistibly, held her spellbound. There +was nothing brutal about him, no hint of ferocity, only a finished +antagonism as flawless as his chivalry, a strength of self-suppression +that made him superb. + +No one noticed Chris's proximity. All were too deeply engrossed with the +matter in hand. But suddenly Cinders, who loved law and order in all +things pertaining to the human race, scented combat in the air. It was +enough. Cinders would permit no brawling among his betters if he could by +any means prevent it. With tail cocked and every hair bristling, he +rushed into the fray, barking aggressively. + +With a cry of dismay Chris rushed after him, and in that instant the man +facing her raised his eyes involuntarily and shifted his position. The +next instant he lunged frantically to recover himself, failed, and with a +violent exclamation received his adversary's point in his shoulder. + +It all happened in a flash, so rapidly that it was over before either +Chris or Cinders had quite reached the scene. Bertrand whirled round +fiercely, sword in hand, anger turning to consternation in his eyes as he +realized the nature of the interruption. + +Chris had a confused impression that the whole party were talking at once +and blaming her, while they buzzed round the wounded man, who lay back in +the arms of one of them and cursed volubly, whether Bertrand, Cinders, +or herself she never knew. + +She had the presence of mind to snatch up her belligerent favourite, who +was snapping at the prostrate officer's legs; and then, for the first +time in her life, an overwhelming shyness descended upon her as the full +horror of her position presented itself. + +"I couldn't help it, Bertie! Oh, Bertie, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, in +an agony of contrition. + +There was a very odd expression on Bertrand's face. She did not +understand it in the least, but thought he must be furious since he was +undoubtedly frowning. If this were the case, however, he displayed +admirable self-restraint, for he banished the frown almost immediately. + +"Mademoiselle has been bathing, yes?" he questioned briskly. "But it is a +splendid morning for a swim. And le bon Cinders also! How he is droll, ce +bon Cinders!" + +He snapped his fingers airily under the droll one's nose, and flashed his +sudden smile into her face of distress. + +"_Eh bien_!" he said. "_L'affaire est finie_. Let us go." + +He stuck his weapon into the sand and left it there. Then, without +waiting to don his coat, he turned and walked away with her with his +light, elastic swagger that speedily widened the distance between himself +and his vanquished foe. + +Chris walked beside him in silence, Cinders still tucked under her arm. +She knew not what to say, having no faintest clue to his real attitude +towards her at that moment. He had ignored her apology so jauntily that +she could not venture to renew it. + +She glanced at him after a little to ascertain whether smile or frown had +supervened. But both were gone. He looked back at her gravely, though +without reproof. + +"Poor little one!" he said. "It frightened you, no?" + +She drew a deep breath. "Oh, Bertie, what were you doing?" + +"I was fighting," he said. + +"But why? You might--you might have killed him! Perhaps you have!" + +He stiffened slightly, and twisted one end of his small moustache. "I +think not," he said, faint regret in his voice. + +Chris thought not too, judging by the clamour of invective which the +injured man had managed to pour forth. But for some reason she pressed +the point. + +"But--just imagine--if you had!" + +He shrugged his shoulders with extreme deliberation. + +"_Alors_, Mademoiselle Christine, there would have been one _canaille_ +the less in the world." + +She was a little shocked at the cool rejoinder, yet could not somehow +feel that her _preux chevalier_ could be in the wrong. + +"He might have killed you," she remarked after a moment, determined to +survey the matter from every standpoint. "I am sure he meant to." + +He shrugged his shoulders again and laughed. "That is quite possible. And +you would have been sorry--a little--no?" + +She raised her clear eyes to his. "You know I should have been +heart-broken," she said, with the utmost simplicity. + +"But really?" he said. + +"But really," she repeated, breaking into a smile. "Now do promise me +that you will never fight that horrid man again." + +He spread out his hands. "How can I promise you such a thing! It is not +the fashion in France to suffer insults in silence." + +"Did he insult you, then?" + +Again he stiffened. "He insulted me--yes. And I, I struck him. _Après +cela_--" again the expressive shrug, and no more. + +"But how did he insult you?" persisted Chris. "Couldn't you have just +turned your back, as one would in England?" + +"No" Sternly he made reply. "I could not--turn my back." + +"It's ever so much more dignified," she maintained. + +The dark eyes flashed. "Pardon!" he said. "There are some insults upon +which no man, English or French, can with honour turn the back." + +That fired her curiosity. "It was something pretty bad, then? What was +it, Bertie? Tell me!" + +"I cannot tell you," he returned, quite courteously but with the utmost +firmness. + +She glanced at him again speculatively, then, with shrewdness: "When men +fight duels," she said, "it's generally over either politics or--a woman. +Was it--politics, Bertie?" + +He stopped. "It was not politics, Christine," he said. + +"Then--" She paused, expectant. + +His face contracted slightly. "Yes, it was--a woman. But I say nothing +more than that. We will speak of it--never again." + +But this was very far from satisfying Chris. "Tell me at least about the +woman," she urged. "Is it--is it the girl you are going to marry?" + +But he stood silent, looking at her again with that expression in his +eyes that had puzzled her before. + +"Is it, Bertie?" she insisted. + +"And if I tell you Yes?" he said at last. + +She made a queer little gesture, the merest butterfly movement, and yet +it had in it the faintest suggestion of hurt surprise. + +"And you never told me about her," she said. + +He leaned swiftly towards her. There was a sudden glow on his olive face +that made him wonderfully handsome. "_Mignonne_!" he said eagerly, and +then as swiftly checked himself. "Ah, no, I will not say it! You do not +love the French." + +"But I want to hear about your _fiancée_," she protested. "I can't think +why you haven't told me." + +He had straightened himself again, and there was something rather +mournful in his look. "I have no _fiancée_, little one," he said. + +"No?" Chris smiled all over her sunny face. She looked the merest child +standing before him wrapped in the mackintosh that flapped about her bare +ankles, the ruddy hair all loose about her back. "Then whatever made you +pretend you had?" she said. + +He smiled back, half against his will, with the eloquent shrug that +generally served him where speech was awkward. + +"And the woman you fought about?" she continued relentlessly. + +"Mademoiselle Christine," he pleaded, "you ask of me the impossible. You +do not know what you ask." + +"Don't be silly," said Chris imperiously. The matter had somehow become +of the first importance, and she had every intention of gaining her end. +"It isn't fair not to tell me now, unless," with sudden doubt, "it's +somebody whose acquaintance you are ashamed of." + +He winced at that, and drew himself up so sharply that she thought for a +moment that he was about to turn on his heel and walk away. Then very +quietly he spoke. + +"You will not understand, and yet you constrain me to speak. +Mademoiselle, I am without shame in this matter. It is true that I fought +in the cause of a woman, perhaps it would be more true if I said of a +child--one who has given me no more than her _camaraderie_, her +confidence, her friendship, so innocent and so amiable; but these things +are very precious to me, and that is why I cannot lightly speak of them. +You will not understand my words now, but perhaps some day it may be my +privilege to teach you their signification." + +He stopped. Chris was gazing at him in amazement, her young face deeply +flushed. + +"Do you mean me?" she asked at last. "You didn't--you couldn't--fight on +my account!" + +He made her a grave bow. "I have told you," he said, "because otherwise +you would have thought ill of me. Now, with your permission, since there +is no more to say upon the subject, I will return to my friends." + +He would have left her with the words, but she put out an impulsive hand. +"But, Bertie--" + +He took the hand, looking straight into her eyes, all his formality +vanished at a breath. "Ask me no more, little one," he said. "You have +asked too much already. But you do not understand. Some day I will +explain all. Run home to _Mademoiselle la gouvernante_ now, and forget +all this. To-morrow we will play again together on the shore, draw the +pictures that you love, and weave anew our rope of sand." + +He smiled as he said it, but the tenderness of his speech went deep into +the girl's heart. She suffered him to take leave of her almost in +silence. Those words of his had set vibrating in her some chord of +womanhood that none had ever touched before. It was true that she did not +understand, but she was nearer to understanding at that moment than she +had ever been before. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE ENGLISHMAN + + +Chris returned quite soberly to the little house on the _plage_. The +morning's events had given her a good deal to think about. That any man +should deem it worth his while to fight a duel for her sake was a novel +idea that required a good deal of consideration. It was all very +difficult to understand, and she wished that Bertrand had told her more. +What could his adversary of the scowling brows have found to say about +her, she wondered? She had never so much as seen the man before. How had +he managed even to think anything unpleasant of her? Recalling Bertrand's +fiery eyes, she reflected that it must have been something very +objectionable indeed, and wondered how anyone could be so horrid. + +These meditations lasted till she reached the garden gate, and here they +were put to instant and unceremonious flight, for little Noel hailed her +eagerly from the house with a cry of, "Hurry up, Chris! Hurry up! You're +wanted!" + +Chris hastened in, to be met by her young brother, who was evidently in a +state of great excitement. + +"Hurry up, I say!" he repeated. "My word, what a guy you look! We've just +had a wire from Jack. He will be in Paris this evening, and we are to +meet him there. We have got to catch the Paris express at Rennes, and the +train leaves here in two hours." + +This was news indeed. Chris found herself plunged forthwith into such a +turmoil of preparation as drove all thought of the morning's events from +her mind. + +Her brothers were overjoyed at the prospect of immediate departure; +Mademoiselle was scarcely less so; and Chris herself, infected by the +general atmosphere of satisfaction, entered into the fun of the thing +with a spirit fully equal to the occasion. The scramble to be ready was +such that not one of the party stopped to breathe during those two hours. +They bolted refreshments while they packed, talking at the tops of their +voices, and thoroughly enjoying the unwonted excitement. Mademoiselle was +more nearly genial than Chris had ever seen her. She did not even scold +her for taking an early dip. At the time Chris was too busy to wonder at +her forbearance; but she discovered the reason later, without the +preliminary of wondering, when she came to know that it was +Mademoiselle's urgent representations at headquarters regarding her own +delinquencies that had impelled this sudden summons. + +The thought of meeting her cousin added zest to the situation. Though ten +years her senior, Jack Forest had long been the best chum she had--he was +best chum to a good many people. + +Only when by strenuous effort they had managed to catch the one and only +train that could land them at Rennes in time for the Paris express, only +when the cliffs and the dear blue shore where she had idled so many hours +away were finally and completely left behind, did a sudden stab of +realization pierce Chris, while the quick words that her playmate of the +beach had uttered only that morning flashed torch-like through her brain. + +Then and only then did she remember him, her _preux chevalier_, her +faithful friend and comrade, whose name she had never heard, whom she had +left without word or thought of farewell. + +So crushing was her sense of loss, that for a few seconds she lost touch +with her surroundings, and sat dazed, white-faced, stricken, not so much +as asking herself what could be done. Then one of the boys shouted to her +to come and look at something they were passing, and with an effort she +jerked herself back to normal things. + +Having recovered her balance, she managed to maintain a certain show of +indifference during the hours that followed, but she looked back upon +that journey to Paris later as one looks back upon a nightmare. It was +her first acquaintance with suffering in any form. + +Jack Forest, big, square, and reliable, was waiting for them at the +terminus. + +The two boys greeted him with much enthusiasm, but Chris suffered her own +greeting to be of a less boisterous character. Dear as the sight of him +was to her, it could not ease this new pain at her heart, and somehow she +found it impossible to muster even a show of gaiety any longer. + +"Tired?" queried Jack, with her hand in his. + +And she answered, "Yes, dreadfully," with a feeling that if he asked +anything further she would break down completely. + +But Jack Forest was a young man of discretion. He smiled upon her and +said something about cakes for tea, after which he transferred his +attention to more pressing matters. Quite a strategist was Jack, though +very few gave him credit for so being. + +Later, he sat down beside his forlorn little cousin in the great buzzing +vestibule of the hotel whither he had piloted the whole party, and gave +her tea, while he plied the boys with questions. But he never noticed +that she could not eat, or commented upon her evident weariness. +Mademoiselle did both, but he did not hear. + +Chris would have gladly escaped the ordeal of dining in the great +_salle-à -manger_ that night, but she could muster no excuse for so doing. +At any other time it would have been an immense treat, and she dared not +let Jack think that it was otherwise with her to-night. + +So they dined at length and elaborately, to Mademoiselle's keen +satisfaction, but she was aching all the while to slip away to bed and +cry her heart out in the darkness. She could not shake free from the +memory of the friend who would be waiting for her on the morrow, drawing +his pictures in the sand for the playfellow who would never see them--who +would never, in fact, be his playfellow again. + +Returning to the vestibule after dinner to listen to the band was almost +more than she could bear; but still she could not frame an excuse, and +still Jack noticed nothing. He sent the boys to bed, but, as a matter of +course, she remained with Mademoiselle. + +They found a seat under some palms, and Jack ordered coffee. He got on +very well with Mademoiselle as with the rest of the world, and there +seemed small prospect of an early retirement. But at this juncture poor +Chris began to get desperate. She had refused the coffee almost with +vehemence, and was on the point of an almost tearful entreaty to be +allowed to go to bed, when suddenly a quiet voice spoke close to her. + +"Excuse me, Forest! I have been trying to catch your eye for the past ten +minutes. May I have the pleasure of an introduction?" + +Chris glanced quickly round at the first deliberate syllable, and saw a +tall, grave-faced man of possibly thirty, standing at Jack's elbow. + +Jack looked round too, and sprang impulsively to his feet. "You, Trevor! +I thought you were on the other side of the world. My dear chap, why on +earth didn't you speak before? You might have dined with us. Mademoiselle +Gautier, may I present my friend, Mr. Mordaunt?" + +Mademoiselle acknowledged the introduction stiffly. She had no liking for +strange men. + +But Chris looked at the new-comer with frank interest, forgetful for the +moment of her trouble. His smooth, clean-cut face attracted her. His grey +eyes were the most piercingly direct that she had ever encountered. + +"My little cousin, Miss Wyndham," said Jack. "Chris, this is the greatest +newspaper man of the age. Join us, Mordaunt, won't you? I wish you had +come up sooner. Where were you hiding?" + +Mordaunt smiled a little as he took a vacant chair by Chris's side. "I +have been quite as conspicuous as usual during the whole evening," he +said, "but you were too absorbed to notice me. Are you enjoying the +music, Miss Wyndham, or only watching the crowd?" + +Chris did not know quite what to answer, since she had been doing +neither, but he passed on with the easy air of a man accustomed to fill +in conversational gaps. + +"I believe I saw you arrive this evening. Haven't you got a small dog +with a turned-up nose? I thought so. Are you taking him for a holiday? +How do you propose to get him home again?" + +That opened her lips, and quite successfully diverted her thoughts. "He +has had his holiday," she explained, "and we are taking him back. I don't +know in the least how we shall do it. Jack will have to manage it +somehow. Can you suggest anything? The authorities are so horribly strict +about dogs, and I couldn't let him go into quarantine. He would break his +heart long before he came out." + +"A dog of character evidently!" The new acquaintance considered the +matter gravely. "When are you crossing?" he asked. + +"To-morrow," said Jack. "I'm sorry, Chris, but I came off in a hurry, as +matters seemed urgent, and I have to be back by the end of the week." + +"I wonder if you would care to entrust your dog to me," said Mordaunt. "I +am fairly well known. I think I could be relied upon with safety to +hoodwink the authorities." + +He made the suggestion with a smile that warmed Chris's desolate heart. +Not till long afterwards did she know that this man had crossed the +Channel only that day, and that he proposed to re-cross it on the morrow +because of the trouble in a child's eyes that had moved him to +compassion. + +They spent the next half-hour in an engrossing discussion as to the best +means to be adopted for Cinders' safe transit, and when Chris went to bed +at last she was so full of the scheme that she forgot after all to cry +herself to sleep over the thought of her _preux chevalier_ drawing his +sand-pictures in solitude. + +She dreamed instead that he and the Englishman with the level, grey eyes +were fighting a duel that lasted interminably, neither giving ground, +till suddenly Bertrand plunged his sword into the earth and abruptly +walked away. + +She tried to follow him, but could not, for something held her back. And +so presently he passed out of her sight, and turning, she found that the +Englishman had gone also, and she was alone. + +Then she awoke, and knew it was a dream. + + + + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE PRECIPICE + + +The angry yelling of a French mob rose outside the court--a low, ominous +roar, pierced here and there with individual execrations, and the +prisoner turned his head and listened. There was a suspicion of contempt +on his face, drawn though it was. What did they care for justice? It was +only the instinct to hunt the persecuted that urged them. Were he proved +innocent ten times over, they would hardly be convinced or cease from +their reviling. + +But he knew that no proof of innocence would be forthcoming. He was +hedged around too completely by adverse circumstances for that. +Everything pointed to his guilt, and only he himself and one other knew +him to be the victim of a deliberate plot devised to compass his +destruction. He was too hopelessly enmeshed to extricate himself, and the +other--the only man in the world who could establish his innocence--was +the man who had set the snare. + +Bertrand de Montville, gunner and genius, had faced this fact until he +was in a measure used to it. There was to be no escape for him. He, who +had dared to scale the heights of Olympus and had diced with the gods, +was to be hurled into the mire to rise therefrom no more for ever. He had +climbed so high; almost his feet had reached the summit. He had completed +his invention, and it had surpassed even his most sanguine hopes of +success. At four-and-twenty he had been acclaimed by his superiors as the +greatest artillery engineer of his time. His genius had won him a footing +that men more than twice his age, and far above him in military rank, +might have envied. He had been honoured by the highest. + +And then at the very zenith of his prosperity had come his downfall. His +gun, the cherished invention that was to place the French artillery at +the head of the list, the child of his brain, his own peculiar treasure, +was discovered to have been purchased by another Government three months +before he had offered it to his own. + +None but himself--so it was believed, so it was ultimately to be proved +to the satisfaction of impartial judges--had been in a position at that +time to betray the secret, for none but himself had then possessed it. +And a great storm of indignation went through the whole country over the +revelation. + +Passionately but uselessly he protested his innocence. There were a few, +even among his judges, who secretly believed him; but the proof was +incontestable. Inch by inch he had been forced down from the heights that +he had so gallantly scaled, and now he was on the brink of the precipice, +no longer fighting, only waiting with the unflinching courage of the +French aristocrat to be hurled headlong into the abyss that yawned below. + +The yelling of the crowd outside the court was only a detail of the +bitter process that was gradually compassing his condemnation. He knew he +was to be convicted. It was written in varying characters upon every +face; pity, severity, disgust--he met them on every hand. And so on this +the fifth and last day of his court-martial he confronted destiny--that +destiny that he had once so gaily dared--with closed lips and eyes that +revealed neither misery nor despair, only the indomitable pride of his +race. Do what they would to him, they would never quench that while life +remained. The worst indignity that man could inflict would provoke no +outcry here. He had protested his innocence in vain, and he had no proof +thereof to offer. It remained for him to face dishonour as an honourable +man, steady and undismayed. Doubtless there were those who would deem his +bearing brazen, but not his worst enemy should call him coward. + +Across the court an Englishman, with keen grey eyes that took in every +detail, sat and sketched him--sketched the proud, fearless pose of the +man and the hard young face, with its faint, patrician smile. The sketch +was little more than outline, a few bold strokes; but the people in +England who saw it a couple of days later felt as if the artist had +deliberately lifted a curtain and shown to them a man's wrung soul. And +everyone who saw it said, "That man is innocent!" + +Trevor Mordaunt said it himself many times that day before and after the +making of the sketch. He knew, as well as did the prisoner himself, that +there would be no acquittal. Almost from the commencement of the trial he +had known it. But he knew also that two at least of the judges were +disposed towards leniency, and upon this fact he based such slender hopes +as he entertained on the prisoner's behalf. As a fellow-correspondent--a +Frenchman--had remarked to him earlier in the trial, whatever the +verdict, they would hardly martyrize the man lest at a later date further +question as to his guilt should arise and all Europe be set bubbling anew +upon that much-discussed topic--French justice. + +Mordaunt was of the same opinion; but, as he watched the young officer +throughout the whole of the day's proceedings, he came to the conclusion +that the verdict was everything in this man's estimation and the sentence +less than nothing. If he were condemned to be blown from his own gun, he +would face the ordeal unshrinking, almost with indifference. Deprived of +honour, what else was there in life? + +So when the end came at last, and the inevitable verdict was pronounced, +Mordaunt shut his note-book with a feeling that there was no more to be +recorded. + +As a matter of fact the sentence was not pronounced at the time, and only +transpired two days later, when it was officially made public--expulsion +from the army and incarceration in a French fortress for ten years. + +"That, of course, will be commuted," said one who knew the probabilities +of the case to Mordaunt when the sentence was made known. "They will +release him _au secret_ in a few years and banish him from the country on +peril of arrest. They are bound to make an example of him, but they won't +keep it up. The verdict was not unanimous. And, above all, they won't +make a martyr of him now. The other _affaire_ is too recent." + +Mordaunt agreed as to the likelihood of this, but he did not find it +particularly consolatory. He had seen the prisoner's face as he was +guarded through the surging, hostile crowd; and he knew that for Bertrand +de Montville the heavens had fallen. + +An innocent man had been found guilty, and that was the end. He was +beyond the reach of any lenient influence now that justice had failed +him. They had pushed him over the edge of the precipice--this man who had +dared to climb so high; and in the hissings and groanings of the crowd he +heard the death-knell of his honour. + +In silence he went down into the abyss. In silence he passed out of +Trevor Mordaunt's life. Only as he went, for one strange second, as +though drawn by some magnetic force, his eyes, dark and still, met those +of the Englishman, with his level, unfaltering scrutiny. No word or +outward sign passed between them. They were utter strangers; it was +unlikely that they would ever meet again. Only for that one second +something that was in the nature of a message went from one man's soul to +the other's. For that instant they were in communion, subtle but +curiously distinct. + +And Bertrand de Montville went to his martyrdom with the knowledge that +one man--an Englishman--believed in him, while Trevor Mordaunt was aware +that he knew it, and was glad. + +For he had studied human nature long enough to realize that even a +stranger's faith may make a supreme difference in the hour of a man's +most pressing need. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CONQUEST + + +It was a sunny morning in the end of June, and Chris was doing her hair +in curls, for she was expecting a visitor. It took a very long time to +do, for there was so much of it; and she looked very worried over the +process. She would have liked to have borrowed Aunt Philippa's maid, but +this was a prohibited luxury except on very exceptional occasions. And +Hilda--dear, gentle Cousin Hilda--was away in Devon with her _fiancé's_ +people. So Chris had to wrestle with her difficulties in solitude. + +It was the middle of her first season, and, with a few reservations, she +was enjoying it immensely. The reservations were all directly or +indirectly connected with Aunt Philippa, for whom Chris's feeling was +that of an adventurous schoolboy for a somewhat severe headmaster. She +was not exactly afraid of her, but she was instinctively wary in her +presence. She knew quite well that Aunt Philippa had given her this +season as her one and only chance in life, and had done it, moreover, +more than half against her will, impelled thereto by the urgent +representations of her son and daughter, who looked upon their merry +little cousin as their joint _protégée_. She ought, doubtless, to have +come out the previous year, but her aunt's ill-health had precluded this, +and the whole summer had been spent in the country. + +That excuse, however, would not serve Mrs. Forest this year. She had +taken a house in town, and there was no other course open to her than to +launch her brother's child into society, however sorely against her will. +Her main anxiety had fortunately by that time ceased to exist. There was +no likelihood of Chris, with her brilliant, vivacious ways, outshining +her own daughter. For Hilda was engaged to Lord Percy Davenant, who +plainly had eyes and thoughts for none other, and the marriage was to be +one of the events of the season. + +Chris was therefore accorded her chance upon the tacit understanding that +she was to make the most of it, since Mrs. Forest still maintained her +attitude of irresponsibility where her brother's children were concerned, +although the said brother had drifted to Australia and died there, no one +quite knew how, leaving next to nothing behind him. + +His sons and Chris had been brought up upon their mother's fortune, a sum +which had been set aside for their education by their father at her +death, after which, beyond providing them with a home--the ramshackle +inheritance that had come to him from his father--he had made little +further provision for them. His eldest son, Rupert, was a subaltern in a +line regiment. No one knew whether he lived on his pay or not, and no one +inquired. The second son, who possessed undeniable brilliance, had earned +a scholarship, and was studying medicine. And Noel, now aged sixteen, was +still at school, distinguishing himself at sports and consistently +neglecting all things that did not pertain thereto. + +Undoubtedly they were a reckless and improvident family, as Mrs. Forest +so often declared; but perhaps, all things considered, they had never had +much opportunity of developing any other qualities, though it was +certainly hard that she should be regarded as in any degree responsible +for them. She and her brother had always been as far asunder as the poles +in disposition, and neither had ever felt or so much as professed to feel +the faintest affection for the other. + +It vexed her that Jack and Hilda should take so lively an interest in +Chris, who was bound to turn out badly. Had she not already shown herself +to be incorrigibly flighty? But since it vexed her still more that anyone +should regard her actions as blameworthy, she had yielded to their +persuasions. And thus Chris had been given her chance. + +She was thoroughly appreciating it. Everyone was being kind to her, and +it was all extremely pleasant. She was looking forward keenly to the +coming that morning of Trevor Mordaunt, who had been regarded as a +privileged friend ever since he had smuggled Cinders back into England +three years before, secreted in an immense pocket in the lining of a +great motor-coat. Not that she had seen very much of him since that +memorable occasion. In fact, until the present summer they had scarcely +met again. He was a celebrated man in the literary world, and he +travelled far and wide. He was also immensely wealthy. Men said of him +that whatever he touched turned to gold. And fame, wealth, and a certain +unobtrusive strength of personality had combined to make him popular +wherever he went. + +He was more often out of England than in it, and there were even some who +suspected him of being an empire-builder, though their grounds for doing +so were but slight. + +It was, however, characteristic of Chris that she never forgot her +friends, a characteristic which Trevor Mordaunt also possessed to a +marked degree. Therefore it was not surprising that soon after her first +appearance in London society he had claimed and had been readily accorded +the privileges of old acquaintanceship. + +Since that day they had met casually at several functions, and people +were beginning to wonder a little at Mordaunt's unusual energy in a +social sense, for it was several years since he had brought himself to +tread the mill of a London season. + +Chris always hailed his appearance with obvious pleasure, though she was +very far from connecting it in any sense with herself. He was always kind +to her, always ready to make things go smoothly for her, and she never +knew an awkward moment in his society. There were plenty of people who +spoke of him with awe, but Chris was not one of these. She never found +him in the least formidable. + +And so it was with ingenuous pleasure that she anticipated his advent +that morning. They had met at a dance on the previous evening, and her +card had been full before his arrival. It had not occurred to her to save +a dance for him. + +"I never thought you would come," she had told him in distress. "I wish I +had known!" + +And then he had looked at her quietly for a moment with those intent grey +eyes of his that never seemed to miss anything, and had asked her if he +might call on the following morning, since he was to see nothing of her +that night. + +She had responded with a pressing invitation to do so, and he had simply +thanked her and departed. + +And so when the morning came Chris was still struggling with her hair +when he arrived, having breakfasted in bed and finally arisen at a +scandalously late hour. But that she knew Aunt Philippa to be also in +bed, she would scarcely have ventured upon such a proceeding. Aunt +Philippa knew nothing of the expected visitor. As a matter of fact Chris, +in her airy fashion, had quite forgotten to mention the matter. Mrs. +Forest, being still uncertain as to Mordaunt's state of mind, had +discreetly foreborne to put the girl on her guard. She had at the +beginning of things carefully instilled into her that it was essential +that she should miss no opportunity of making a wealthy marriage, and she +hoped that Chris would have the sense to bear this in mind. + +Had she known of Mordaunt's coming she would probably have drilled her +carefully beforehand, but luckily Chris's negligence spared her this. And +so on that sunny summer morning she was sublimely unconscious of what was +before her, and entered Mordaunt's presence at length almost at a run. +Chris at twenty was very little older than Chris at seventeen. + +"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," was her greeting. "Really I +couldn't help it. I just couldn't get up this morning. You know how one +feels after going to bed at four. It was very nice of you to come so +early. Have you had any breakfast?" + +All this was poured out while her hand lay in his, her gay young face +uplifted, half-merry, half-confiding. + +Yes, Mordaunt had breakfasted. He told her so with a faint smile. "And +please don't apologize for being late," he added. "It is I who am early. +I came early on purpose. I wanted to see you alone." + +"Oh?" said Chris. + +She looked at him interrogatively and then quite suddenly she knew what +he had come to say, and turned white to the lips. For the first time she +was afraid of him. + +"Oh, please," she gasped rather incoherently, "please--" + +"Shall we sit down?" he said gently. "I am not going to do or say +anything that need frighten you. If you were a little older you would +realize that I am at your mercy, not you at mine." + +She looked at him wide-eyed, imploring. "Please, Mr. Mordaunt, can't +we--can't we wait a little? I am afraid, I am so afraid of--of making a +mistake." + +The faint smile was still upon his face, though it did not reach his +eyes. He laid a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. + +"My dear little Chris," he said, "I won't let you do that." + +That comforted her a little, though she still looked doubtful. She +suffered him to lead her to a sofa and sit beside her, but she avoided +his eyes. The crisis had come upon her so suddenly, she knew not how to +deal with it. + +"Has no one ever proposed to you before?" he said. + +"No," she whispered. + +"Well, it's all right," he said kindly. "Don't think I am going to trade +on your inexperience. If you want to say 'No' to me, say it, and I'll go. +I shall come back again, of course. I shall keep on coming back till you +say 'Yes' either to me or to some other man. But I hope it won't be +another man, Chris. I want you so badly myself." + +"Do you?" she said. "How--how funny!" + +"Why funny?" he asked. + +She glanced at him speculatively; her panic was beginning to subside. +"You must be ever so much older than I am," she said. + +"I am thirty-five," he said. + +"And I'm not quite twenty-one." A sudden dimple appeared in the cheek +nearest to him. "Fancy me getting married!" said Chris, with a chuckle. +"I can't imagine it, can you?" + +"You will soon get used to the idea," he said. "Anyhow, there is nothing +in it to frighten you--that is, if you marry the right man." + +She nodded thoughtfully, her brief mirth gone. "But, Mr. Mordaunt, how is +one to know?" + +He leaned towards her. "I believe I can teach you," he said, "if you will +let me try." + +She slipped a shy hand into his. "But you won't ask me to marry you for a +long while yet, will you?" she said pleadingly. + +"Not until you have quite made up your mind to be engaged to me," said +Mordaunt. + +She looked at him quickly. "No, not then either. Not--not till I say you +may." + +He laughed a little; but there was something very protecting, +infinitely reassuring, in his grasp. "And if I accept that condition," +he said--"it's a very despotic one, by the way--but if I accept it, +may I consider that you are engaged to me?" + +Chris hesitated. + +"Not if I tell you that I love you," he said, "that I want you more than +anything else in life, that I would give the soul out of my body to make +you happy?" + +His voice was sunk very low. There was more of restraint than emotion in +his utterance. He spoke as a man who knows himself to be upon holy +ground. + +And Chris was awed. The very quietness of the man made her tremble. She +knew instinctively that here was something colossal, something that +dominated her, albeit half against her will. + +She closed her fingers very tightly upon his hand, but she said nothing. + +He sat silent for several seconds, closely watching her, seeking to read +her downcast eyes. But she would not raise them. Her heart was beating +very quickly, and her breath came and went like the breath of a +frightened bird. + +At last very gently he moved, drew her to him, put his arm about her. +"Are you afraid of me, Chris?" + +She nestled to him with a little gesture that was curiously pathetic. +With her face securely hidden against him, she whispered, "Yes." + +"My darling, why?" he said very tenderly. + +"I don't know why," murmured Chris. + +"Surely not because I love you?" he said. + +She nodded against his shoulder. "You ought not to love me like that. +It's too much. I'm not good enough." + +"My little girl," he said, "I am not worthy to hold your hand in mine." + +His hand was on her hair, stroking, fondling, caressing. She nestled +closer, without lifting her face. + +"You don't know me in the least. I'm not a bit nice really. I get up to +all sorts of pranks. I'm wild and flighty. Ask Aunt Philippa if you want +to know." + +"I know you better than Aunt Philippa, dear," he said. + +"Oh no, you don't. You've only seen my good side. I'm always on my best +behaviour with you." + +"Another excellent reason for marrying me," said Mordaunt. + +"Oh, but I shan't be always. That's just it. You--you will be quite +shocked some day." + +"I will take the risk," he said. + +"I don't think you ought to," murmured Chris. "It doesn't seem quite +fair." + +His hand pressed her head very gently. "Meaning that you don't love me?" +he said. + +She made a vehement gesture of denial. "Of course not. I--I'd be a little +beast if I didn't, specially after the way you helped me with Cinders +long ago. I never forgot that--never! Only I do think--before you marry +me--you ought to know how horrid I can be. It--it's buying a pig in a +poke if you don't." + +He laughed again at that in a fashion that emboldened Chris to raise her +head. + +"I am quite in earnest," she told him, in a tone that tried to be +indignant. "You'll find me out presently. And when you do--" + +She stopped with a gasp. His arms were about her, holding her as she +sat. He looked straight down into the shining blue eyes. "When I do, +Chris--" he said. + +She met his look quite bravely. She was even smiling rather tremulously +herself. "You will get a stick and beat me," she said. "I know. People +who have eyes like steel never make allowances for those who haven't!" + +She got no further, for quite suddenly Trevor Mordaunt dropped his +self-restraint like an impeding cloak and caught her to his heart. For +the fraction of a second her fear came back, she almost made as if she +would resist him; and then in a moment it was gone, lost in a wonder that +left no room for anything else. For he kissed her, once and once only, so +passionately, so burningly, so possessively, that it seemed to Chris as +if, without her own volition, even half against her will, she thereby +became his own. He had dominated her, he had won her, almost before she +had had time to realize that there was a stranger within her gates. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WARNING + + +"Well, all I have to say is, 'Bravo, young un!'" Rupert Wyndham stretched +out a careless arm and encircled his sister's waist therewith. She was +perched on the arm of his chair, and she tweaked his ear airily in +response to this encouragement. + +"Oh, you're pleased, are you?" she said. "That's very nice of you." + +"Pleased is a term that does not express my feelings in the least," he +declared. "I am transported with delight. You are the last person I +should have expected to retrieve the family fortunes, but you have done +it right nobly. I'm told the fellow is as rich as Croesus. It's to be +hoped that he is quite resigned to the fact that he is going to have +plenty of relations when he marries. By the way, hasn't he any of his +own?" + +"None that count--only cousins and things. Such a mercy!" said Chris. +"And oh, Rupert, isn't it a blessing now that we never managed to sell +Old Park, or even to let it? We shall be able to live there ourselves and +turn it into a perfect paradise." + +"He wants to buy it, eh?" Rupert glanced up keenly. + +Chris nodded. "It's only in the clouds at present. He said something +about giving it to me when we marry. But of course," rather hastily, +"we're not going to be married for ever so long. It would have to belong +to him till then. He is going to talk to you about it presently. You +wouldn't object, would you? You are entitled to your share now, he says, +and Max will come into his directly. But Noel's will have to go into +trust till he is of age." + +"An excellent idea!" declared Rupert. "I'm damnably hard up, as your +worthy _fiancé_ has probably divined. But why this notion of not getting +married for ever so long? I don't quite follow the drift of that." + +"Oh, don't be silly!" said Chris, colouring very deeply. "How could we +possibly? Everyone would say I was marrying him for his money?" + +"And that is not so?" questioned Rupert. + +"Of course it isn't!" She spoke with a vehemence almost fiery. "I--I'm +not such a pig as that!" + +"No?" He leaned his head back upon the cushion and gazed up at her +flushed face. "What are you marrying him for?" he asked. + +Chris looked back at him with a hint of defiance in her blue eyes. "What +do most people marry for?" she demanded. + +He laughed carelessly. "Heaven knows! Generally because they're stupid +asses. The men want housekeepers and the women want houses, and neither +want to pay for such luxuries. Those are the two principal reasons, if +you ask me." + +Chris jumped off the arm of his chair with an abruptness that seemed to +indicate some perturbation of spirit. She went to one of the long windows +that looked across the quiet square. + +"Those are not our reasons, anyhow," she said, after a moment, with her +back to the cynic in the chair. + +He turned his head at her words and smiled, a mischievous boyish smile +that proclaimed their relationship on the instant. + +"Ye gods!" he ejaculated. "Is it possible that you're in love with him?" + +Chris was silent. She seemed to be watching something in the road below +her with absorbing interest. + +"You needn't trouble to keep your back turned," gibed the brotherly voice +behind her. "I can see you are the colour of beetroot even at this +distance. Curious, very! But I'm glad you are so becomingly modest. It's +the first indication of the virtue that I have ever detected in you." + +"You beast!" said Chris. + +She whirled suddenly round, half-laughing, half-resentful, seized a book +from a table near, and hurled it with accurate aim at her brother's head. + +He flung up a dexterous hand and caught it just as the door opened +to admit Mordaunt, who had been asked to dine to meet his future +brother-in-law. + +Rupert was on his feet in a moment. With the book pressed against his +heart, he swept a low bow to the advancing stranger. + +"You come in the nick of time," he observed, "to preserve me from my +sister's fratricidal intentions. Perhaps you would like to arbitrate. The +offence was that I accused her of being in love--with you, of course. She +seems to think the assertion unwarrantable." + +"Oh, Trevor, don't listen!" besought Chris. "He only goes on like that +because he thinks it's clever. Do snub him as he deserves!" + +"Pray do!" said Rupert. "Begin by asking him how old he is, and whether +he knows his nine-times backwards yet. Also--" + +"Also," broke in Mordaunt, with a smile, "if he can't find something more +profitable to do than to tease his small sister." He extended a quiet +hand. "I have been wanting to make your acquaintance for some time. In +fact, I was contemplating running down to Sandacre for the purpose." + +"Very good of you," said Rupert. He dropped his chaffing air and grasped +the proffered hand with abrupt friendliness. There was something about +this man that caught his fancy. "You would be very welcome at any time. +It isn't much of a show down there, but if you don't mind that--" + +"I shouldn't come for the sake of the show," said Mordaunt. "I'd sooner +see a battalion at work than at play." + +"Ah! Wouldn't I, too!" said Rupert, with sudden fire. "We hope to be +ordered to India next year. That wouldn't be absolute stagnation, anyhow. +I loathe home work." + +Mordaunt looked at the straight young figure brimming with activity, and +decided that the more work this boy had to do the better it would be for +him morally and physically. + +"Keeps you in training," he suggested. + +"Oh, I don't know. One is apt to get unconscionably slack. It's a fool of +a world. The work is all wrongly distributed; some fellows have to work +like niggers and others that want to work never get a look in." Rupert +broke off to laugh. "I'm a discontented beggar, I tell you frankly," he +said. "But I don't expect any sympathy from you, because, being what you +are, you wouldn't reasonably be expected to understand." + +"My good fellow, I haven't always been prosperous," Mordaunt assured him. +"I've had luck, I admit. It comes to most of us in some form if we are +only sharp enough to recognize it. Perhaps it hasn't come your way yet." + +"I'll be shot if it has!" said Rupert. + +"But it will," Mordaunt maintained, "sooner or later." + +"Oh, do you believe in luck?" broke in Chris eagerly. "Because there's +the new moon coming up over the trees, and I've just seen it through +glass. Don't look, Trevor, for goodness' sake! No, no, you shan't! Shut +your eyes while I open the window. You shall see it from the balcony." + +She sprang to the window, and Mordaunt followed with an indulgent smile. + +Rupert scoffed openly. "Chris is mad on charms of every description. If +she hears a dog howl in the night she thinks there is going to be an +earthquake. You had better not encourage her, or there will be no end to +it." + +But Chris, with her _fiancé's_ hand fast in hers, was already at the +window. + +"If you don't believe in it, don't come!" she threw back over her +shoulder. "Now, Trevor, you've got to turn your money, bow three times, +and wish. Do wish for something really good to make up for my bad luck!" + +Mordaunt complied deliberately with her instructions, her hand still in +his. + +"I have wished," he announced at length. + +"Have you? What was it? Yes, you may tell me as I'm not doing any. Quick, +before Rupert comes!" + +Her eager face was close to his. He looked into the clear eyes and +paused. "I don't think I will tell you," he said finally. + +"Oh, how mean! And you would have missed the opportunity but for me!" + +He laughed quietly. "So I should. Then I shall owe it to you if it comes +true. I will let you know if it does." + +"You are sure to forget," she protested. + +"No. I am sure to remember." + +She regarded him speculatively. "I don't like secrets," she said. + +"Haven't you any of your own?" he asked. + +"No. At least--" she suddenly coloured vividly under his eyes--"none that +matter." + +He sat down upon the balustrade of the balcony, bringing his eyes on a +level with hers. "None that you wouldn't tell me," he suggested, still +faintly smiling. + +She recovered from her confusion with a quick laugh. "I shouldn't dream +of telling you--some things," she said. + +Her hand moved a little in his as though it wanted to be free, but he +held it still. He bent towards her, his grey eyes no longer searching, +only very soft and tender. + +"You will when we are married, dear," he said. + +But Chris shook her head with much decision. "Oh, no! I couldn't +possibly. You would disapprove far too much. As Aunt Philippa says, you +would be 'pained beyond expression.'" + +But Mordaunt only drew her nearer. "You--child!" he said. + +She yielded, half-protesting. "Yes, but I'm not quite a baby. I think you +ought to remember that. Shall we go back? I know Rupert is sniggering +behind the curtain." + +"I'll break his head if he is," said Mordaunt; but he let her go, as she +evidently desired, and prepared to follow her in. + +They met Rupert sauntering out "to pay his respects," as he termed it, +though, if there were any luck going, he supposed that his future +brother-in-law had secured it all. + +"Thought you didn't believe in luck," observed Mordaunt. + +"I believe in bad luck," returned Rupert pessimistically. "I only know +the other sort by hearsay." + +"Isn't he absurd?" laughed Chris. "He always talks like that. And there +are crowds of people worse off than he is." + +"Query," remarked her brother, with a shrug of the shoulders; but an +instant later, aware of Mordaunt's look, he changed the subject. + +They were a small party at dinner, for there remained but Hilda Forest to +complete the number. She had only that afternoon returned to town. Mrs. +Forest was dining out, to Chris's unfeigned relief. For Chris was in high +spirits that night, and only in her aunt's absence could she give them +full vent. + +But, if gay, she was also provokingly elusive. Mordaunt had never seen +her so effervescent, so sublimely inconsequent, or so naïvely bewitching +as she was throughout the meal. Rupert, reckless and _débonnaire_, +encouraged her wild mood. As his youngest brother expressed it, he and +Chris 'generally ran amok' when they got together. And Hilda, the sedate, +rather pensive daughter of the house, was far too gentle to restrain +them. + +It was impossible to hold aloof from such light-hearted merry-making, and +Mordaunt went with the tide. Perhaps instinct warned him that it was the +surest way to overcome that barrier of shyness, unacknowledged but none +the less existent, that kept him still a stranger to his little +_fiancée's_ confidence. Her dainty daring notwithstanding, he was aware +of the fact that she was yet half afraid of him, though when he came to +seek the cause of this he was utterly at a loss. + +When he and Rupert were left alone together after dinner, they were +already far advanced upon the road to intimacy. It was the result of his +deliberate intention; for though a girl might keep him outside her inner +sanctuary, it seldom happened in the world of men that Trevor Mordaunt +could not obtain a free pass whithersoever he cared to go. + +Rupert tossed aside his gaiety with characteristic suddenness almost as +soon as the door had closed upon his sister and cousin. + +"I suppose you want to get to business," he said abruptly. "I'm ready +when you are." + +Mordaunt moved into an easy-chair. "Yes, I want to make a suggestion," he +said deliberately. "But it is not a matter that you and I can carry +through single-handed. I want to talk about it, that's all." + +Rupert, his elbows on the table, nodded and stared rather gloomily into +his coffee-cup. "I suppose it'll take about a year to fix it up. Anything +with a lawyer in it does." + +Mordaunt watched him through his cigarette smoke for a few seconds in +silence, until in fact with a slight movement of impatience Rupert +turned. + +"I'm no good at fencing," he said, rather irritably. "You want Kellerton +Old Park, Chris tells me. Have you seen it?" + +"No." + +"Then"--he sat back with a laugh that sounded rather forced--"that ends +it," he declared. "The place has gone to rack and ruin. You can't walk up +the avenue for the thistles. They are shoulder high. And as for the +house, it's not much more than a rubbish-heap. It would cost more than +it's worth to make it habitable. We have been trying to get rid of the +place ever since my father's death, but it's no manner of use. People get +let in by the agent's description and go and see it, but they all come +away shuddering. You'll do the same." + +"I shall certainly go and see it," Mordaunt said. "Perhaps I shall +persuade Chris to motor down with me some day. But in any case, if you +are selling--I'm buying." + +Rupert jumped up suddenly. "I won't take you seriously till you've seen +it," he declared. + +"Oh yes, you will," Mordaunt returned imperturbably. "Because, you see, I +am serious. But we haven't come to business yet. I want to know what +price you are asking for this ancestral dwelling of yours." + +"We would take almost anything," Rupert said. + +He had begun to fidget about the room with a restlessness that was +feverish. Mordaunt remained in his easy-chair, calmly smoking, obviously +awaiting the information for which he had asked. + +"Almost anything," Rupert repeated, halting at the table to drink some +coffee. + +The hand that held the cup was not over-steady. Mordaunt's eyes rested +upon it thoughtfully. + +"I should like to know," he said, after a moment. + +Rupert gulped his coffee and looked down at him. "Murchison said ten +thousand when my father died," he said. "He would probably begin by +saying ten now, but he would end by taking five." + +"Murchison is your solicitor?" + +"And trustee up to a year ago." + +"I see." Mordaunt reached for his own coffee. "And you? You think ten +thousand would be a fair price?" + +Rupert broke again into his uneasy laugh. "I think it would be an +infernal swindle," he said. + +"I will talk it over with Mr. Murchison," Mordaunt said quietly. "I only +wanted to be sure that you were quite willing to sell before doing so." + +Rupert took a turn up the room. He looked thoroughly ill-at-ease. Coming +back, he halted by the mantelpiece and began to drum a difficult tattoo +upon the marble. + +"I don't want you to be let in by Murchison," he said suddenly. "You will +find him damnably plausible. If he thinks you really want the place he +will squeeze you like a sponge." + +"Thanks for the warning!" There was a note of amusement in Mordaunt's +voice. He finished his coffee and rose. "You have done your best to +handicap your man of business, but I think he will get his price in spite +of it. You see, I really do want the place." + +"Without seeing it!" + +"Yes." + +Rupert whizzed round on his heels, and faced him. "Sounds +rather--eccentric," he suggested. + +Mordaunt smiled in his quiet, detached way. "I can afford to be +eccentric," he said. "And now look here, Wyndham. You said something just +now about having to wait a year to fix things up. I don't see the +necessity for that, situated as we are. Since you are willing that I +should buy Kellerton Old Park, and since we are agreed upon the price, I +see no reason to delay payment. I will write you a cheque for your share +to-night." + +"What?" said Rupert. + +He stood up very straight, staring at the man before him as if he were an +entirely novel specimen of the human race. + +"Is it a joke?" he asked at length. + +Mordaunt flicked the ash from his cigarette without looking at him. +Perhaps he felt that he had studied him long enough. + +"No," he said. "I don't see any point in jokes of that sort. Of course, I +know it's not business, but the arrangement is entirely between +ourselves. I don't see why even Murchison should be let into it. We can +settle it later without taking him into our confidence." + +"It's a loan, then?" said Rupert quickly. + +"If you like to call it so." + +"May as well call it by its name," the boy returned bluntly. "You're +deuced generous, Mr. Mordaunt." + +"I know what it is to be hard up," Mordaunt answered. "And since we are +to be brothers we may as well behave as such, eh--Rupert?" + +Rupert's hand came out and gripped his impulsively. For a second he +seemed to be at a loss for words, then burst into headlong speech. + +"Look here! I think I ought to tell you, before you take us in hand to +that extent, that we're a family of rotters. We're not one of us sound. +Oh, I'm not talking about Chris. She's a girl. But the rest of us are +below par, slackers. Our father was the same. There's bad blood +somewhere. You are bound to find it out sooner or later, so you may as +well know it now." + +Mordaunt's grey eyes looked his full in the face. "Is that intended as a +warning not to expect too much?" he asked. + +Rupert's eyelids twitched a little under that direct look. "Yes," he said +briefly. + +"And if I don't listen to warnings of that description?" + +"You will probably get let down." + +Rupert spoke recklessly, yet almost as if he could not help it. +Undoubtedly there was something magnetic about Trevor Mordaunt at times, +something that compelled. He was conscious of relief when the steady eyes +ceased to scrutinize him. + +"Not by you, I think," Mordaunt said, with his quiet smile. "You may be a +rotter, my boy, but you are not one of the crooked sort." + +"I've never robbed anyone, if that's what you mean." Rupert's laugh had +in it a note of bitterness that was unconsciously pathetic. "But I'm up +to the eyes in debt and pretty desperate. If I could have persuaded +Murchison to raise money on the estate, I'd have done it long ago. That's +why this offer of yours seemed too good to be true." + +Mordaunt nodded. "I thought so. It's foul work floundering in that sort +of quagmire. I wonder now if you will allow me to have a look into your +affairs, or if you prefer to go to the devil your own way." + +Rupert coloured and threw back his shoulders, but he did not take +offence. The leisurely proposal held none. "I'm not over keen on going to +the devil," he said. "But neither am I going to let you pay my debts, +thanks all the same." + +Mordaunt glanced at him and smiled. "I think you will cancel that 'but,'" +he said, "in view of our future relationship." + +Rupert hesitated, obviously wavering. "It's jolly decent of you," he said +boyishly. "You make it confoundedly difficult to refuse." + +"You are not going to refuse," said Mordaunt. "No one knows better +than I do that it's ten times pleasanter to give than to receive. But +that--between friends--is not a point worth considering." + +"I should think you have a good many friends," said Rupert. + +"I believe I have." + +"Well,"--the boy spoke with a tinge of feeling beneath his +banter--"you've added to the list to-night, and I wish you joy of your +acquisition! But don't say I didn't warn you." + +"No," said Mordaunt quietly. "I won't say that." He added a moment later, +as he dropped the end of his cigarette into his coffee-cup, "I believe in +my friends, Rupert." + +"Till they let you down," suggested Rupert. + +"They never do." + +"Then allow me to say that you are one of the luckiest fellows I have +ever met." + +"Perhaps." + +"And the best," Rupert added impulsively. + +There was a moment's silence, then, "Shall we join the ladies?" suggested +Trevor Mordaunt, in a tone that sounded rather bored. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DOUBTS + + +"He's nice, isn't he?" said Chris. + +She was seated on a hassock close to her cousin's knee, a favourite +position of hers. + +Hilda's fingers fondled the sunny hair. Her eyes looked thoughtful. "I am +so glad for you, dear," she said. + +"I knew you would be," chuckled Chris. "Aunt Philippa is delighted too. +It's the first time I've ever known her pleased with me. It feels so +funny. Ah! There is my sweet Cinders! I must just let him in." + +She sprang up to admit her favourite, whose imperious scratch at the door +testified to the fact that he was not accustomed to being kept waiting. +There ensued a tender if somewhat pointless conversation between himself +and his mistress before she returned to her seat and her confidences. + +"Did you ever refuse to marry anybody, Hilda?" she wanted to know then. + +"Yes, dear." + +"Many?" + +"Three," said Hilda. + +"Goodness!" Chris looked up with shining eyes of admiration. "How ever +did you do it?" + +"I wasn't in love with them," said Hilda simply. + +"Oh! And you are in love with Percy?" + +"Yes, dear." Again with the utmost simplicity the elder girl made answer. + +"How nice!" said Chris. "But I can't think how you knew," she said, after +a moment. + +Hilda leaned forward to look into the clear eyes. A faint gleam of +anxiety showed for a moment in her own. "But surely you know, Chris!" she +said. + +"I!" said Chris, with a gay shake of the head. "Oh, no, I don't. You +know, I don't believe it's in me to fall in love in the ordinary way. I +was quite angry with Rupert only this evening for jeering at me, as if I +were. Oh, no, Hilda, I'm not in love like that." + +"But, my dear--" Hilda looked down in grave perplexity, not unmixed with +apprehension. + +Chris leaned back against her quite unconcernedly, her hands clasped +round her knees, and laughed like an elf. "Darling, don't look at me like +that! It's too funny. Don't you know that it's only you staid, good +people who ever fall in love properly? The rest of us only pretend. +That's where the romance comes in." + +"But, dear, Trevor Mordaunt is in love with you," Hilda reminded her +gently. + +"Oh yes," said Chris, "I know. That's why I had to accept him. I don't +believe even you could have said No to him." + +Hilda's face cleared a little. She pinched the soft cheek nearest to her. +"After that, don't talk to me about not being in love!" + +"Oh, but really I don't think I am," Chris assured her quite seriously. +"I have only once in my life met anyone with whom I could possibly +imagine myself falling in love. And he was not a bit like Trevor." + +"What was he like?" asked Hilda. "A sort of fancy person? Or someone out +of a book?" + +"Oh no, he was quite real--the nicest man." A faraway look came into +Chris's eyes; she suddenly spoke very softly as one in the presence of a +vision. "I think--I am not sure--that he belonged to the old French +_noblesse_. He was not tall, but beautifully made, just right in every +way, and very handsome, with eyes that laughed--the sort of man one +dreams of, but never meets." + +"And yet he was real," Hilda said. + +"Oh yes, he was real. But it was ages and ages ago. He may have changed +by this time. He may even be dead--my _preux chevalier_." Chris came out +of her dream with a shaky little laugh. "Ah, well, I've given up crying +for him," she said. "Anyhow it was only a game. Let's talk of something +else." + +"It was the man at Valpré," said Hilda. + +"Yes, it was the man at Valpré. I never told you about him, did I? I +never told anyone. Somehow I couldn't. People made such a horrid fuss. +But the very thought of him used to make me cry at one time. Wasn't it +silly? But I missed him so. I couldn't help it. We won't talk about him +any more. It makes me melancholy. Hilda, wouldn't it be a novel idea if +your bridesmaids carried fans instead of Prayer Books? You could have the +marriage service printed on them in gold with illuminated capitals. Would +Aunt Philippa think it immoral, do you think?" + +To anyone who did not know Chris this sudden change might have seemed +bewildering; but Hilda was never taken unawares by her swift transitions. +She did not even deem her flippant, as did her mother. For Chris was very +dear to her. She knew and loved her in all her lightning moods. It was +possible that even she did not wholly understand her, but she was nearer +to doing so than any other in Chris's world just then. + +When Chris danced across to the piano and began her favourite waltz to +the accompaniment of muffled howls from Cinders, she knew that the hour +for confidences was past. Nor had she any desire to prolong it, for it +seemed better to her to leave the hero of Chris's girlhood in obscurity. +She had not the smallest doubt that her young cousin invested him with +all the glamour of a vivid imagination. He was fashioned of the substance +of dreams, and she fancied that Chris herself was more than half aware of +this. + +But still her faint misgiving did not wholly die away. Though Trevor +Mordaunt had secured for himself the girl of his choice, she could not +suppress a grave doubt as to whether he had yet succeeded in winning her +heart. He would ultimately win it; she felt convinced of that. He was a +man who was bound sooner or later to rule supreme. And thus she strove to +reassure herself; but still, in spite of her, the doubt remained. Chris +was so young, so gay, so innocent. She could not bear to think of the +troubles and perplexities of womanhood descending upon her. She was so +essentially made for the joy of life. + +She sat and watched her unperceived, the slim young figure in the shaded +lamplight, the shining hair, the slender neck--all vivid, instinct with +life; and she comprehended the witchery that had caught Mordaunt's heart. +Of the man himself she knew but little. He was not expansive, and +circumstances had not thrown them together. But what she knew of him she +liked. She was aware that her brother valued his friendship very +highly--a friendship begun on a South African battlefield; and though +they had met but seldom since, the intimacy between them had remained +unshaken. + +Trevor Mordaunt was a man of many friends--friends in all ranks and of +many nationalities. No one knew quite how he made them; no one ever saw +his friendships in the making. But all over the world were men who hailed +his coming with pleasure and saw him go with regret. + +She supposed him capable of a vast sympathy, a wide understanding. It +seemed the only explanation. But would he understand her little Chris? +she wondered. Would he make full allowance for her dear caprices, her +whimsical fancies, her butterfly temperament? Would he ever thread his +way through these fairy defences to that hidden shrine where throbbed her +woman's heart? And would he be the first to enter there? She hoped so; +she prayed so. + +"Hilda"--imperiously the gay voice broke through her reverie--"if Percy +wants to know what sort of pendants to give the bridesmaids, be sure you +say turquoise and pearl. It's most important." + +She was still strumming her waltz, and did not hear Mordaunt enter behind +her. + +"I saw a most lovely thing to-day," she went on. "One of those +heart-shaped things that are still hearts even if you turn them upside +down." + +"Is that an advantage?" asked Mordaunt. + +She whizzed round on the music-stool. "Trevor! I wish you wouldn't make +me jump. Of course it is an advantage if a thing never looks wrong way +up. You will remember, won't you, Hilda? Turquoise and pearl." + +"Are you going to be chief mourner?" asked Rupert. + +"Don't be horrid! I'm going to be chief bridesmaid, if that's what you +mean?" + +"And turquoise and pearl is to be the order of the day?" queried +Mordaunt. + +"A white muslin frock and a blue sash, I suppose," supplemented Rupert. +"Hair worn long and tied with a blue bow rather bigger than an +ordinary-sized sunshade. No shoes and no stockings, but some pale blue +sandals over white lace socks. Result--ravishing!" + +Chris glanced round for a missile, found none, so decided to ignore him. + +"Yes," she said to her _fiancé_, "and we are going to carry bouquets of +wheat and cornflowers." + +"Sounds like the ingredients of a pudding," said Rupert. + +Chris rose from the piano in disgust, and her brother instantly slipped +into her place. "I say, Hilda," he called, "come and sing! There's no one +to listen to you but me; but that's a detail. Trevor and Christina, pray +consider yourselves excused." + +"We don't want to be excused," said Chris mutinously "Do stop, Rupert! +Cinders doesn't like it." + +Rupert, however, was already crashing through Mendelssohn's Wedding +March, and turned a deaf ear. She picked the discontented one up to +comfort him, and as she did so Trevor moved up to her. He stood beside +her for a few seconds, stroking the dog's soft head. + +Chris looked hot and uncomfortable, as if Rupert's music pounded on her +nerves; but yet she would not make a move. She stood hushing Cinders as +if he had been an infant. + +"Shall we go outside?" Mordaunt said at last. + +She shook her head. + +"Come!" he said gently. + +She turned without a word, laid the dog tenderly in a chair, whispered to +him, kissed him, and went to the open window. + +They stepped out together, and the curtains met behind them. + +The moon had passed out of sight behind the houses, but the sky was +alight with stars. A faint breeze trembled through the trees in the quiet +square garden, and the faint, wonderful essence of summer came from them. +From a distance sounded the roar of countless wheels--the deep chorus of +London's traffic. + +They stood side by side in silence while behind them Rupert played the +Wedding March to a triumphant end. Then quiet descended, and there came a +long pause. + +Chris broke it at last, moved, and shyly spoke. "Trevor!" + +"What is it, dear?" + +She drew slightly towards him, and at once he put a quiet arm about her. +"I want to tell you something," she said. + +"Something serious?" he questioned. + +"I--I don't know." A faint note of distress sounded in her voice. She +laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder with a very confiding +gesture. "I'm not quite happy," she said. + +He held her closer. "Tell me, Chris!" he said very tenderly. + +She uttered a little laugh that had a sob in it. "It's only that--that I +can't help feeling that you're making rather a bad bargain. You know, the +other day--when--when you proposed to me--I didn't have time to think. +I've been thinking since." + +"Yes?" he said. + +"Yes. And now and then--only now and then--I feel rather bad. I--I like +fair play, Trevor. It isn't right for me to take so much and give--so +little." Her voice quivered perceptibly, and she ceased to speak. He +pressed her closer to him, but he remained silent for several seconds. + +At last, "Chris," he said, "will it comfort you to know that what you +call a little is to me the greatest thing on earth?" + +His voice was deep and very quiet, yet a tremor went through her at his +words. + +"That's just what frightens me," she said. + +"It shouldn't frighten you," he said. "It need not." + +"But it does," said Chris. + +He was silent for another space, still holding her closely. In the room +behind them they could hear the cousins talking; but they were alone +together, shut off, as it were, from ordinary converse, alone under the +stars. + +"Suppose," said Mordaunt gently, "you leave off thinking for a bit, and +take things as they come." + +"Yes?" she said rather dubiously. + +He bent down to her. "Chris, I will never ask more of you than you are +able to give." + +She moved at that in her quick, impulsive way, reached up and clasped his +neck. "Oh, Trevor, I do love you!" she said, with a catch in her voice. +"I do want you to have--the best!" + +Her face was raised to his. For the first time she offered him her lips. +They were nearer to understanding each other at that moment than they had +ever been before. + +But as he bent lower to kiss her the notes of the piano floated out to +them again, this time in a soft melody, inexpressibly sweet, full of a +subtle charm, the fairy gold of romance. + +She kissed him indeed--and it was the first kiss she had ever given him; +but he felt her stiffen in his hold even as she did it. And the next +moment, almost with passion, she spoke-- + +"I wish Rupert wouldn't play that thing! He knows--he knows--that I can't +bear it!" + +"What is it?" Mordaunt asked in surprise. + +She answered him with a laugh that did not ring quite true. "It is the +'_Aubade à la Fiancée_.' He is only playing it to torment us. Let us go +in and stop him!" + +She turned inwards with the words, disengaging herself from his arm as +casually as she might have pushed aside a chair. Mordaunt followed her in +silence. There were no further confidences between them that night. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DE PROFUNDIS + + +It was pouring with rain, and the man with the flute at the corner +shivered and pulled his rags more closely about him. He had not been +lucky that day, or, indeed, for many days, as the haggard eyes that +stared out of his white face testified. + +He had spent the past three nights in the open, but to-night--to-night +was cruelly wet. He questioned with himself what he should do. + +In his pocket was that which might procure a night's lodging or a meagre +supper; but it would not supply both. He had to decide between the two, +unless he elected to go on playing till midnight in the drenching rain on +the chance of augmenting his scanty store. + +Though it was June, he was chilled to the bone. In the intervals between +his flute-playing his teeth chattered. He looked horribly ill, but no one +had noticed that. Men who wander about the streets with musical +instruments seldom have a prosperous appearance. Passers-by may fling +them a copper if they have one handy, but otherwise they do not even look +at them. There are so many of these luckless ones, and each looks more +wretched than the last. Most of them look degraded also, but, save for +his rags, this man did not. There was a foreign air about him, but he did +not look the type of foreigner that lives upon English charity. There was +nothing hang-dog about him. He only looked exhausted and miserable. + +At the suggestion of a policeman he abandoned his corner. After all, he +was doing no good there. It was not worth a protest. He turned and +trudged up a side-street, with head bent to the rain. + +It was growing late, high time to seek some shelter for the night if that +were his intention. But he pressed on aimlessly with dragging feet. +Perhaps he had not yet decided whether to perish from cold or hunger, or +perhaps he regarded the choice as of small importance. Possibly even, he +had forgotten that there was a choice to be made. + +The street he travelled was deserted, but he heard the buzz of a motor at +a cross-road, and mechanically almost he moved towards it. He was not +quite master of himself or his sensations. He may have vaguely remembered +that there is sometimes money to be earned by opening the door of a taxi, +but it was not with this definite end in view that he took his way. For, +as he went, he put his flute once more to his lips, and poured a sudden, +silvery melody--the "_Aubade à la Fiancée_"--that a young French officer +had onced hummed so gaily among the rocks of Valpré--into the rain and +the darkness. + +It began firm and sweet as the notes of a thrush, exquisitely delicate, +with the high ecstasy that only music can express. It swelled into a +positive paen of rejoicing, eager, wonderful, almost unearthly in its +purity. It ended in a confused jumble like the glittering fragments of a +beautiful thing shattered to atoms at a blow. And there fell a silence +broken only by the throbbing of the taxi, and the drip, drip, drip, of +the rain. + +The taxi came to a stand close to the lamp-post against which the +flute-player leaned, but he made no move to open the door. The light +flared on his ashen face, showing it curiously apathetic. His instrument +dangled from one nerveless hand. + +A man in evening dress stepped from the taxi. His look fell upon the +wretched figure that huddled against the lamppost. For a single instant +their eyes met. Then abruptly the new-comer wheeled to pay his fare. + +"He's in for a wet night by the looks of him," observed the chauffeur +facetiously. + +"The gentleman is a friend of mine," curtly responded the man in evening +dress. + +And the taxi-cab driver, being quite at a loss, shot away into the +darkness to hide his discomfiture. + +The flute-player straightened himself with a manifest effort and turned +away. If he had heard the words, he had not comprehended them. His wits +seemed to be wandering that night, but he would not even seem to beg an +alms. + +But a hand on his shoulder detained him. "Monsieur de Montville!" a quiet +voice said. + +He jerked round, bringing his heels together with instinctive precision. +Again, in the glare of the lamp-post their eyes met. + +"I have not--the pleasure," he muttered stiffly. + +"My name is Mordaunt," the other told him gravely. "You will remember me +presently, though not probably by name. Come in out of the rain. It is +impossible to talk here." + +He spoke with a certain insistence. His hand held the Frenchman's arm. It +was obvious that he would listen to no refusal. And the man in rags +attempted none. He went with him meekly, as if bewildered into docility. +His single flash of pride had died out like the final flicker of a match. + +With the Englishman's hand supporting him, he stumbled up a flight of +steps that led to the door of one of the houses in the quiet street, +waited till the turning of a latch-key opened the door, and again numbly +yielded to the steady insistence that drew him within. + +He stood on a mat under a glaring electric lamp. The wet streamed down +him in rivulets; he was drenched to the skin. + +Mechanically he pulled the cap from his head and tried to still his +chattering teeth. His lips were blue. + +"This way," said the quiet voice. "Take my arm." + +"But I am so damp, monsieur," he protested shakily. "It will make you +damp also." + +"What of it? I daresay I shall survive it if you do." Very kindly the +voice made answer. He could not see the speaker plainly, for his brain +was in a whirl. He even wondered in a dull fashion if it were all a +dream, and if he would wake in a moment from his uneasy slumber to hear +the rain splashing down the gutters and the voice of a constable in his +ear bidding him move on. + +He went up a flight of stairs, moving almost without his own volition, +the Englishman's arm around him, urging him upwards. + +They came to the threshold of a room of which Mordaunt switched on the +light at entering, and in a moment more the tottering Frenchman found +himself pressed down into a chair. He covered his face with his hands and +sat motionless, trying to still the confusion in his brain. He was +shivering violently from head to foot. + +There followed a pause of some duration, during which he must have been +alone; then again his unknown friend touched him, patted his shoulder, +spoke. + +"Here's a hot drink. You will feel better when you have had it. +Afterwards you shall go to bed." + +He raised his head and stared about him. Mordaunt, holding a cup of +steaming milk that gave out a strong aroma of brandy, was stooping over +him. There was another man in the room, evidently a servant, engaged in +kindling a fire. + +Slowly the vagabond's gaze focussed itself upon Mordaunt's face. He saw +it clearly for the first time and gave a slight start of recognition. + +"I have seen you before," he muttered, frowning uncertainly. "Where? +Where?" + +"Never mind now," returned the Englishman gently. "Drink this. You need +it." + +He lifted a shaking hand and dropped it again. All the strength seemed to +have gone out of him. + +"Monsieur will pardon my feebleness," he murmured almost inarticulately. +"I am--a little--fatigued. It is nothing. It will pass." + +"Drink!" Mordaunt said insistently. + +He held the rim of the cup against the trembling lips, and perforce the +Frenchman drank, at first slowly, then with avidity, till at last he +clasped the cup in both his quivering hands and drained it. + +His eyes sought Mordaunt's apologetically as he gave it back. The apathy +had gone out of them. They looked out of his pinched face with +brightening intelligence. His lips were no longer blue. + +"Ah!" he said, with a deep breath. "But how it was good, monsieur!" + +He glanced downwards, discovered himself to be sitting in a +chintz-covered chair, and blundered hastily to his feet. + +"Tenez!" he exclaimed almost incoherently. "But how I forget! See, I +have--I have--" + +He groped out before him suddenly, words failing him, and only Mordaunt's +promptitude spared him a headlong fall. + +"Bit light-headed, sir?" suggested the servant, glancing round with an +inscrutable countenance. + +"No, he'll be all right. Go and turn on the hot water," said Mordaunt. + +To the Frenchman as the man departed he spoke as to an equal. "Monsieur +de Montville, I am offering you the hospitality of a friend, and I hope +you will accept it. In the morning if you are well enough we will talk +things over. But to-night you are not fit for anything beyond a hot bath +and bed." + +The Frenchman nodded. Certainly his senses were returning to him. His +eyes were growing brighter every instant. "It is true," he said. "I was +ill. But your--so great--kindness has revived me. I will not, then, +trespass upon you longer, except to render to you a thousand thanks. I am +well now. I will go." + +"No," Mordaunt said gently. "You will stay here till morning. You are not +well. You are feverish. And the sooner you get to bed the better. Come! +We are not strangers. Need we behave as if we were?" + +Again de Montville looked at him doubtfully. "I wish that I could +recall--" he said. + +"You will presently," Mordaunt assured him. "In the meantime, it really +doesn't matter, and it is not the time for explanations. I am very glad +to have met you. You surely will not refuse to be my guest for a few +hours." + +He spoke with the utmost kindness, but also with inflexible +determination. The Frenchman still looked dubious, but quite obviously he +did not feel equal to a battle of wills with his resolute host. He +uttered a sigh and said no more. + +He firmly declined the assistance of Mordaunt's man, however, and it was +Mordaunt himself who waited upon him, ignoring protest, till his +shivering _protégé_ was safe in bed. + +He seemed to resign himself to his fate then, being too exhausted to do +otherwise. A heavy drowsiness came upon him, and he very soon fell into a +doze. + +Mordaunt sat in an adjoining room, opening and answering letters. His +demeanour was quite serene. Save that he paused now and then and leaned +back in his chair to listen, there was nothing about him to indicate that +anything unusual had taken place. + +It was nearing midnight when his man came softly in with a cup of +beef-tea. + +"All right, Holmes! I'll see to him. You can go to bed," he said then. + +Holmes paused. "I've made up the bed in the spare-room, sir," he said. + +"Oh, thanks! I shall not want it though. I will sleep on the sofa here." + +"Very good, sir." Holmes still paused. He never expressed surprise at +anything his master saw fit to do; he only did his utmost to give his +proceedings as normal an aspect as possible. His acquaintance with +Mordaunt also dated from a South African battlefield; they knew each +other very well indeed. + +"I was only thinking to myself," he said, in answer to Mordaunt's look, +"I could just as easy attend to the gentleman as you could, sir. I'm more +or less up in night duty, as you might say, and I'll guarantee as he +wants for nothing if you'll put him in my charge." + +Holmes had been a hospital orderly in his time, and Mordaunt knew him to +be absolutely trustworthy in a responsible position. Nevertheless he +declined the offer. + +"Very good of you, Holmes! But I would rather you went to bed. I +shouldn't be turning in yet in any case. I have work to do. I don't fancy +he will give any trouble. If he does, I will call you." + +Holmes withdrew without further argument, and a few minutes later +Mordaunt, armed with the beef-tea, went to his guest's bedside. + +He found him dozing, but he awoke at once, looking up with fever-bright +eyes to greet him. + +"Ah! but you are too good--too good," he said. "And I have no hunger now. +I am only yet a little fatigued. I shall repose myself, and I shall find +myself well." + +"Yes, you will be better after a sleep," Mordaunt said. "You shall settle +down when you have had this, and sleep the clock round." + +He was aware once more of the Frenchman's puzzled eyes watching him as he +submissively took the nourishment, but he paid no heed to them. It was +not his intention to encourage any discussion just then. + +Outside, the rain pattered incessantly, beating against the windows. At a +sudden gust of hail de Montville shivered. + +"Monsieur," he said, choosing his words with care, "your great kindness +is such as I can never hope to repay, but permit me to assure you that my +gratitude will constrain me to regard myself your debtor till death. If +it is ever in my power to serve you, I will render that service, cost +what it may. You have called me by my name. It appears that you know me?" + +He paused for an answer. + +"Yes, I know you," Mordaunt said. + +"And for that you extend to me the hand of friendship?" questioned the +Frenchman, his quick eyes still searching the Englishman's quiet face. + +Mordaunt's eyes looked gravely back. "I also happen to believe in you," +he said. "Otherwise I should probably have helped you because you needed +it; but I most certainly should not have brought you here." + +"Ah!" Sudden understanding flashed into de Montville's face; he leaned +forward, stuttering with eagerness. "You--you--I know you now! I know +you! You are the English journalist, the man who believed in me even +against reason, against evidence--in spite of all! I remember you +well--well! I remember your eyes. They sent me a message. They gave me +courage. They told me that you knew--that you were my friend--the only +friend, monsieur, that was not ashamed of me. And I thanked _le bon Dieu_ +that night--that terrible night--simply because I had looked into your +eyes." + +He broke off in quivering agitation. Trevor Mordaunt's hand was on his +shoulder. "Easy--easy!" the quiet voice said. "You are exciting yourself, +my dear fellow, and you mustn't. You must go to sleep. This matter will +very well keep till morning." + +De Montville's face was hidden in his shaking hands. "If I could thank +you--if I could make you comprehend--" he murmured brokenly. + +"I do comprehend. I comprehend perfectly." Mordaunt's voice was soothing +now, almost motherly. He stroked the bent shoulders with a consoling +touch. "Come, man! You are used up; you are ill. Lie down and rest." + +He coaxed his forlorn guest down upon the pillows again and drew the +bedclothes over him. Then for a space he sat beside him, divining that he +would recover his self-command more quickly with him there than left to +his own devices. + +A nervous hand, bony as a skeleton's, came hesitatingly forth to him at +length, and he gripped and held it for several quiet seconds more. + +Finally he rose. "I'll leave you now. If you are wanting anything, you +have only to ask for it. I shall be in the next room. Quite comfortable?" + +Yes, he was quite comfortable. He assured him of this in unsteady tones, +and begged that Mr. Mordaunt would give himself no further trouble on his +account. He would sleep--he would sleep. + +As the assurance was uttered somewhat incoherently, through lips half +closed, Mordaunt judged that he could be trusted to carry out this +intention, and so left him, to return to his writing-table in the +adjoining room. + +Ten minutes later he crept back noiselessly and found him in a deep +sleep. He stood a moment to watch him, and noted with compassion a faint, +pathetic smile that rested on the worn features. + +But he did not guess that Bertrand de Montville had returned in his +dreams to a land of enchantment, where the sun was always shining, and +the sea was at peace, even that land where first he had forgotten the +great goal of his ambition and had halted by the way to listen to a +girl's light laughter while he drew for her his pictures in the sand. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ENGAGED + + +"My dear Trevor, do let me warn you against making yourself in any way +responsible for Chris's brothers." + +Mrs. Forest spoke impressively. She was rather fond of warning people. It +was in a fashion her attitude towards life. + +"You will find," she continued, "that Chris herself will need a firm +hand--a very firm hand. Though so young, she is not, I fear, very +pliable. I have known her do the most unheard-of things, chiefly, I must +admit, from excess of spirits. They all suffer from that upon occasion. +It is a most difficult thing to cope with." + +"But not a very serious failing," said Mordaunt, with his tolerant smile. + +"It leads to very serious complications sometimes," said Mrs. Forest, in +the tone of one who could reveal much were she so minded. + +But Mordaunt did not seem to hear. His eyes had wandered to a light +figure in the doorway--a girl with wonderful hair that shimmered like +burnished copper, and eyes that were blue as a summer sea. It was a +Sunday afternoon, and several people had dropped in to tea. The +engagement had been announced the previous day, and Mordaunt had dropped +in also to give his young _fiancée_ the benefit of his support. Chris, +however, was not, to judge by appearances, needing any support. She +seemed, in fact, to be frankly enjoying herself. The high spirits which +her aunt deplored were very much in evidence at that moment. Her gay +laugh reached him where he sat. Being engaged was evidently the greatest +fun. + +"They are all like that," continued Mrs. Forest, with her air of one +fulfilling an unpleasant duty--"all except Max, who is frankly +objectionable. Gay, _débonnaire_, fascinating, I grant you, but so +deplorably unstable. Those boys--well, I have never dared to encourage +them here, for I know too well what it would mean. If you are really +thinking of buying their old home for yourself and Chris, do be on your +guard or you will never keep them at arms' length." + +"Kellerton Old Park will be Chris's property exclusively," Mordaunt +replied gravely. "If she cares to have her brothers there, she will be +quite at liberty to do so." + +"My dear Trevor, you are far too kind," protested Mrs. Forest. "I see you +are going to spoil them right and left. They will simply live on you if +you do that. You won't find yourself master in your own house." + +"No?" said Mordaunt, with a smile. + +Chris was coming towards him. He rose to meet her. + +"Oh, Trevor," she said eagerly, "I can go down to Kellerton with you +to-morrow, and Max has written to say he will join us there. I am so glad +he can get away. I haven't seen him since Christmas." + +"Isn't he coming to your birthday party?" asked Jack Forest, strolling up +at that moment. + +He addressed Chris, but he looked at his mother, who, after the briefest +pause, made reply, "Of course Chris can ask whom she likes." + +"Oh, can I?" exclaimed Chris. "How heavenly! Then I will get Rupert to +come too. I wish Noel might, but I suppose he is out of the question." + +She slipped a hand surreptitiously inside Jack's arm as her aunt moved +away, and squeezed it. She knew quite well that the party itself had been +of his devising--an informal dance to celebrate her twenty-first +birthday, which was less than a fortnight away. + +Jack smiled upon her indulgently. "Are you going to ask me to your +birthday party, Chris?" + +"No," said Chris. "I shall never ask you anywhere. You have a free pass +always so far as I am concerned." + +He made her a low bow. "You listening, Trevor? I'll bet she never said +that to you." + +But Chris turned swiftly away towards her _fiancé_. "There is no need to +say anything of that sort to Trevor," she said, in her quick way. "He +understands without." + +"Thank you," said Trevor quietly. + +Jack laughed. "One to you, my boy! I admit it frankly. By the way, I +heard a funny story about you yesterday. Someone said you were turning +your rooms in Clive Street into a home for sick organ-grinders. Is it +true by any chance?" + +"Not strictly," said Mordaunt. + +"Nor strictly untrue either," commented Jack. "I know the sort of thing. +You are always doing it. Was it a child or a woman or a monkey this +time?" + +"It was a man," said Mordaunt. + +"A man! A friend of yours, I suppose?" Jack smiled over the phrase. He +had heard it on Mordaunt's lips more than once. + +"Exactly. A friend of mine." The tone of Mordaunt's reply did not +encourage further inquiries. + +Chris, glancing at him, saw a slight frown between his brows, and +promptly changed the subject. + +"It's really rather good of Aunt Philippa to let me have the boys here," +she said later, when they were alone together for a moment just before he +took his departure. "She never gets on with them, especially Max. Of +course it's partly his fault. I hope you will like each other, Trevor." + +By which sentence Trevor divined that this was her favourite brother. + +"We shall get on all right," he said. + +"It isn't everyone that likes Max," she said. "But he's tremendously nice +really, and very clever. What time will you be here to-morrow? I must try +not to keep you waiting." + +But of course when the morning came she did keep him waiting. With the +best intentions, Chris seldom managed to be ready for anything. And +Mordaunt had nearly half an hour to wait before she joined him. + +She raced down at last with airy apology. "I'm very sorry really. But it +was Cinders' fault. We went to be photographed, and I couldn't get him to +sit at the right angle. And then when I got back I had to dress, and +everything went wrong." + +She was carrying Cinders under her arm and evidently meant him to join +their expedition. She did not look as if everything had gone wrong with +her, neither did she look particularly penitent. She laughed up at him +merrily, and he--because he could not help it--drew her to him and kissed +her. + +"Oh, but you should kiss Cinders too," she said. "I love kissing Cinders. +He is like satin." + +"If we don't start we shall never get there," observed Mordaunt. + +"What an obvious remark!" laughed Chris. "Let's start at once. I hope you +are going to scorch. Wouldn't it be funny if the motor broke down and we +had to spend the night under a hedge? We should enjoy that, shouldn't we, +Cinders? We would pretend we were gipsies or organ-grinders. Oh, Trevor, +it is a sweet motor! Do let me drive!" + +"While I sit behind with Cinders?" he said. "Thanks very much, but I'd +rather not. Do you think we want Cinders, by the way?" + +She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. Her motor-bonnet gave her a +very babyish appearance. She hugged her favourite to her as she might +have hugged a doll. + +"Of course we want Cinders! Why, he has been looking forward to it for +ever so long. Kellerton is home to him, you know." + +"Oh, very well! Jump in," said Mordaunt, with resignation. "Are you going +to sit beside me?" + +"Of course we are. We can see better in front. Oh, Trevor, I am horrid. I +quite forgot to thank you for that lovely, lovely ring. I'm wearing it +round my neck, because I had to wash Cinders this morning, and I was +afraid of hurting it. I've never worn a ring before. And it was so dear +of you to remember that I liked turquoise and pearl. I was furious with +Aunt Philippa because--" She broke off abruptly. + +Mordaunt was starting the motor, but as they skimmed smoothly away he +spoke. "Aunt Philippa thought it ought to have been diamonds, I suppose?" + +"Well, yes," Chris admitted, turning very red. "But I--I didn't agree +with her. Diamonds are not to be compared with pearls." + +"You are not old enough for diamonds, dear," he said. "I will give you +diamonds later." + +"Oh, but I don't want any." Shyly her hand pressed his knee. "Please +don't give me too much, Trevor," she said. "I shall never dare to ask for +the things I really want if you do. Aunt Philippa thinks I'm getting +horribly spoilt as it is." + +"I don't," he said. + +"How nice of you, Trevor! Do you know I'm so happy to-day, I want to +sing." + +"You may sing to your heart's content when we get out into the country," +he said. + +She laughed. "No, no! Cinders would howl. How cleverly you drive! You +will teach me some day, won't you? Do you know, I dreamt I was driving +your organ-grinder last night. Do tell me about him. Is he really a +friend of yours?" + +"Yes, really, Chris." + +"How exciting!" said Chris, keenly interested. "And what are you going to +do with him?" + +"I haven't decided at present. He has had a pretty bad spell of +starvation. I don't know yet what he is fit for." + +"It must be dreadful to starve," said Chris soberly. "It's bad enough not +to have any pocket-money. But to starve--Is he ill, then?" + +"He has been. He is getting better." + +"And you are taking care of him?" + +"Yes, I'm housing him for the present." + +"Trevor, it was good of you not to send him to the workhouse." + +Mordaunt frowned. "It was not a case for the workhouse. He would probably +have died before he came to that." + +"Oh, how dreadful!" A shadow crossed her vivid face. "But--he won't die +now, you think?" + +"Not now, no!" + +"And you won't let him go organ-grinding any more?" + +"No." + +"That's all right; though I don't think it would be at all bad on fine +days in the country, if one had a nice little donkey to pull the organ." + +"Nice little donkeys have to be fed," Mordaunt reminded her. + +"Oh yes. But they eat grass and thistles and things. And they never die. +Isn't that extraordinary? One would think the world would get overrun +with them, wouldn't one?" + +"So it is, more or less," observed Mordaunt. + +"Trevor! What a disgusting insinuation!" The merry laugh pealed out. +"I've a good mind to turn round and go straight back." + +"If you think you could," he said. + +"Of course I could!" Chris leaned forward and laid a daring hand on the +wheel. + +"Yes," he said. "But that won't do it, you know." + +"But if I were in earnest?" she said, a quick note of pleading in her +voice. "If I really wanted you to turn round?" + +He kept his eyes fixed ahead. "Are you ever really in earnest, Chris?" he +said. + +"Of course I am!" + +Mordaunt was silent. They were crossing a crowded thoroughfare, and his +driving seemed to occupy his full attention. + +Chris waited till he had extricated the car from the stream of traffic, +then impulsively she spoke-- + +"Trevor, I didn't think you were like Aunt Philippa. I thought you +understood." + +She saw his grave face soften. "Believe me, I am not in the least like +your Aunt Philippa," he said. + +"No; but--" + +"But, Chris?" + +"I think you needn't have asked me that," she said, a little quiver in +her voice. "Even Cinders knows me better than that." + +"Cinders ought to know you better than anyone," remarked Mordaunt. "His +opportunities are unlimited." + +She laughed somewhat dubiously. "I knew you would think me horrid as soon +as you began to see more of me." + +He laughed also at that. "My dear, forgive me for saying so, but you are +absurd--too absurd to be taken seriously, even if you are serious--which +I doubt." + +"But I am," she asserted. "I am. I--I am nearly always serious." + +Mordaunt turned his head and looked at her with that in his eyes which +she alone ever saw there, before which instinctively, almost fearfully, +she veiled her own. + +"You--child!" he said again softly. + +And this time--perhaps because the words offered a way of escape of which +she was not sorry to avail herself--Chris did not seek to contradict him. +She pressed her cheek to Cinders' alert head, and said no more. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SECOND WARNING + + +Rupert's description of Kellerton Old Park, though unflattering, was not +far removed from the truth. The thistles in the drive that wound from the +deserted lodge to the house itself certainly were abnormally high, so +high that Mordaunt at once decided to abandon the car inside the great +wrought-iron gates that had been the pride of the place for many years. + +"That nice little donkey of yours would come in useful here," he +observed, as he handed his _fiancée_ to the ground. + +She tucked her hand engagingly inside his arm. "Ah! but isn't the park +lovely? And look at all those rabbits! No, no, Cinders! You mustn't! +Trevor, you do like it?" + +"I like it immensely," he answered. + +His eyes looked out over the wide, rough stretch of ground before him +that was more like common land than private property, dwelt upon a belt +of trees that crowned a distant rise, scanned the overgrown carriage-road +to where it ended before a grey turret that was half-hidden by a great +cedar, finally came back to the sparkling face by his side. + +"So this is to be our--home, Chris?" he said. + +"Isn't it beautiful?" she said proudly. "Oh, Trevor, you don't know what +it means to me to feel it isn't going to be sold after all." + +He smiled. "I understood it was going to be sold and presented to my wife +for a wedding-gift." + +She turned her face up to his. "Trevor, you don't think I'm ungrateful +too, do you?" + +"My darling," he said, "I think that gratitude between you and me is out +of place at any time. Remember, though I give you this and a thousand +other things, you are giving me--all you have." + +She pressed his arm shyly. "It doesn't seem very much, does it?" she +said. + +He laid his hand upon hers. "You can make it much," he said very gently. + +"How, Trevor?" + +"By marrying me," he said. + +"Oh!" Her eyes fell instantly, and he saw the hot colour rise and +overspread her face. "Oh, but not yet!" she said, almost imploringly. +"Please, not yet!" + +His own face changed a little, hardened almost imperceptibly, but he gave +no sign of impatience. "In your own time, dear," he said quietly. "Heaven +knows I should be the last to persuade you against your will." + +"Aunt Philippa is always worrying me about it," she told him, with a +catch in her voice. "And I--I--after all, I'm only twenty-one." + +"What does she worry you for?" he said, a hint of sternness in his voice. + +She glanced at him nervously. "Because--because I've no money. She +says--she says--" + +"Well, dear, what does she say?" + +"I don't want to tell you," whispered Chris. + +"I think you had better," he said. + +"Yes--I suppose so. She says that as I am bringing you nothing, I have no +right to--to keep you waiting--that beggars can't be choosers, and--and +things like that." + +"My dear Chris!" he said. "And you take things like that to heart!" + +"You see, they are true!" murmured Chris. + +"They are not true. But all the same"--he began to smile again--"I can't +for the life of me imagine why you won't marry me and get it over." + +"No?" Chris suddenly looked up again; she was clinging to his arm very +tightly with both hands. "It does seem rather silly, doesn't it?" she +said, with resolute eyes raised to his. "Trevor, I--I'll think about it." + +"Do!" he said. "Think about it quietly and sanely. And don't let yourself +get frightened at nothing. As you say, it's silly." + +"But you won't--press me?" she faltered. "You--you promised!" + +"I keep my promises, Chris," he said. + +But he was frowning slightly as he said it, and she was quick to note the +fact. "Ah! don't be vexed with me," she pleaded very earnestly. "I know +I'm foolish. I can't help it. It's the way I'm made." + +She was on the verge of tears, and at once his hand closed with a warm +and comforting pressure upon hers. "Chris! Chris! When will you learn not +to be afraid of me?" he said. "I am not vexed with you, child. I am only +wondering." + +"Wondering?" she said. + +"Wondering if I had better go away for a spell," he answered. + +"Go away!" she echoed blankly. + +"And give you time to know your own mind," he said. + +"Trevor!" She turned suddenly white, so white that he thought for an +instant that she was in physical pain; and then, feeling her clinging to +him, he understood. "Oh, no!" she said vehemently. "No, no! Trevor, you +won't? Say you won't! I--I couldn't bear that. Please, Trevor!" + +"My dear," he said, "I shall never go away while you want me. But the +question is, do you want me?" + +"I do!" she declared, almost passionately. "I do!" + +"You are quite sure?" He looked suddenly deep into her eyes, so suddenly +that she could not avoid the look. + +She quivered under it, but he did not release her. He searched her +upturned face closely, persistently, relentlessly, till, with a movement +of entreaty, she stretched up one hand and tremblingly covered his eyes. + +"I am--quite sure," she said in a whisper. "And I--I don't like you to +look at me like that." + +He stood still, suffering himself to be so blinded, till, gaining +confidence, she took her hand away. + +"You won't ask me again, please, Trevor?" she said. + +He smiled at her very kindly, but his voice, as he made answer, was +grave. "No, dear, I shall never ask you that again." + +She took his arm once more with evident relief. "Let us go up to the +house," she said. "I expect Max is there already, waiting for us." + +So they went up the weed-grown drive, and presently came into full sight +of the house. It was a large, rambling building of stone, some of it very +ancient, most of it covered with immense stacks of ivy. Another pair of +iron gates divided park from garden, and as they approached these a +lounging figure sauntered into view and came through to meet them. + +Chris uttered a squeak of delight, and sprang forward. "Max!" + +"Hullo!" said the new-comer. + +He was a thick-set youth, with heavy red brows and a somewhat offhand +demeanour. His eyes were green and very shrewd. They surveyed Mordaunt +with open criticism. He was smoking a very foul-smelling cigarette. + +Chris was very rosy. "Max," she said, "this is Trevor!" + +"Hullo!" said Max again. + +He extended a careless hand and gave his future brother-in-law a hard +grip. There was no particular friendliness in the action, it was +evidently his custom to grip hard. + +"Come to investigate your new abode?" he said. "Are you going to pull it +down?" + +"It is not my present intention," Mordaunt said. + +"Of course he isn't!" said Chris. "Don't be absurd, Max. It is going to +be made lovely inside and out, and we are all going to live here." + +"Are we?" said Max, with a sudden grin. "Who says so?" + +He glanced at Mordaunt with the words, and it was Mordaunt who answered +him-- + +"I hope you and your brothers will continue to look upon it as your home +until you have homes of your own." + +"Very rash of you!" commented Max, swinging round again to the gate. +"Well, come inside and see it." + +They went within, went from room to room of the old place, Max with the +air of a sardonic showman, Mordaunt gravely attentive to details, Chris +light-footed, eager with many ideas for its reformation. The mildewed +walls and partially dismantled rooms, with their moth-eaten furniture and +threadbare carpets, had no damping effect upon her spirits. She had a +boundless faith in her _fiancé's_ power to transform her ancient home +into a palace of delight. + +"If you really mean to buy it as it stands, I should recommend you to +make a bonfire of the contents," said Max presently, as they stood all +together in the deep bay window of a room on the first floor that looked +out upon the park, with a glimpse beyond of distant hills. "But the place +itself is an absolute ruin. I can't imagine how you are going to patch it +up." + +"I think it can be done," Mordaunt said. He was staring out somewhat +absently, and spoke as if his thoughts were wandering. + +Both brother and sister glanced at him. Then, "When are you going to get +married?" asked Max. + +Mordaunt came out of his reverie. "That," he said deliberately, "has +still to be decided." + +"Who is going to decide? You or Chris?" Max lighted another cigarette and +pitched the match, still burning, from the window. + +"Oh, Max!" exclaimed Chris. "How dangerous! Look! There is Cinders +sniffing along the terrace! He is sure to burn his nose!" + +She was gone with the words, and Max, with a brief laugh, returned to the +charge. + +"I conclude the decision rests with her." + +"Well?" said Mordaunt. He spoke curtly; perhaps he resented the boy's +interference, or perhaps he had had enough of the subject for that day. + +"Look here," said Max. "I know Chris. She will keep you dangling for the +next ten years if you will put up with it. If you want to be married +soon, you will have to assert yourself." + +Mordaunt was silent. + +Max waited. Below them Chris flashed suddenly into view, darting with a +butterfly grace of movement to the rescue of her pet. + +Abruptly Mordaunt spoke. "I sometimes wonder if she is too young to be +married." + +"What?" Max removed his cigarette and stared at him. "She is as old as I +am!" + +Mordaunt looked back, faintly smiling. "Yes, I know. But--well, that's no +argument, is it?" + +"I suppose not. All the same"--Max leaned back nonchalantly against the +window-frame--"if you mean to wait till she grows up, you'll wait a +precious long time, and she will probably run away with another fellow +while you are thinking about it." + +Mordaunt clapped a restraining hand on his shoulder. "My friend," he +said, "I don't permit that sort of thing to be said of Chris." + +Maxwell's green eyes twinkled. "You don't, eh? That's rather decent of +you. But, you know, there is such a thing as being too trusting. And the +family of Wyndham are not conspicuously famous for their honourable +scruples. Now, Chris is as much a Wyndham as the rest of us, and--I'm +going to say it whether you like it or not, it's the truth also--she +is a deal more likely to keep out of mischief if she marries young. You +are no fool by the look of you. You know there is reason in what I say." + +"You have said enough," Mordaunt said, with a touch of sternness. + +"All right. The subject is closed. But--just tell me this. Do you--or do +you not--want to marry her before the summer is over?" + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Because I want to know." + +"Well"--Mordaunt's eyes studied him for a few seconds--"it is an +unnecessary question." + +"Because I know the answer?" questioned Max. + +"Exactly." + +"Very well." He straightened himself with a smile. "I think I can manage +that for you." + +"Wait!" Mordaunt said. "You mean well, but--I would rather you didn't +attempt it. I would rather that Chris were left to settle this matter for +herself." + +"So she will. I know what I'm about, bless your heart! Chris always asks +my advice and generally takes it. She will marry you all right before the +end of the season. You leave it to me." + +He turned from the window with the words, still smiling. "Give me five +minutes alone with her," he said. + +And Mordaunt, though more than half against his will, yielded the point, +and let him go. + +They lunched in the old oak-beamed dining-room--a meal presided over by +Max, who played the host with a half-mocking air, while Chris, still +eager upon the renovations, poured out plans, practicable and otherwise, +for her _fiancé's_ consideration. + +"What a pity we have to get back!" she said regretfully when the time for +departure drew near. "I want to begin right away, Trevor. Why can't we +spend the night here? Wire to Aunt Philippa, Max. Say we are busy." + +Max grinned. "What says Trevor?" + +"Quite impossible," said Mordaunt, with a smile at her ardent face. +"There isn't a bed for you to sleep on." + +"I could sleep on the sofa with Cinders," she said. "We can sleep +anywhere." + +"They've slept on a heap of stones before now," remarked Max. + +"I'm sure we haven't!" She whisked round upon him with a suddenness that +was almost a challenge. "We haven't, Max!" she repeated. + +He stuck a cigarette into his mouth. "All right, my dear girl. My +mistake, no doubt. I thought you had." + +"Don't be absurd!" ordered Chris, colouring vividly "We never did +anything so--so disreputable." She twined her arm impulsively in +Mordaunt's. "Don't believe him, Trevor!" + +"I don't," he said, with his quiet eyes upon her upturned face. + +Max laughed aloud. "Why don't you tell him the joke, Chris?" + +"Because there isn't any joke, and you're very horrid," she returned with +spirit. "Trevor, let's go!" + +"I am ready," he said. + +"Very well, then." Chris turned round with relief in her face and hastily +tied her veil. "Please find Cinders, Max," she said. "And bring Trevor's +coat. It's in the billiard-room. I suppose we really must go back this +time, but you will bring me again, won't you, Trevor?" + +"As often as you care to come," he said. + +"Ah, yes! Only I'm so full of engagements just now. It's such a nuisance. +One can never get away." + +"What! Tired of London?" he said. + +"Oh no, not really. But I want to be here, too. I love this place. You +won't do anything in it without me, will you?" + +"Not without your approval, certainly," he promised. + +She turned back to him with her quick smile. "Trevor, thank you! I--I've +decided to marry you as soon as ever I can--as soon as Hilda comes back +from her honeymoon." + +He was smoking a cigarette. He took it from between his lips and dropped +it into an ash-tray. For a moment his face was turned from her. He seemed +to be watching the smouldering ash. Then, "Really, Chris?" he said, +looking down at her again. + +She was tugging at her gloves. She thrust her hand out to him. "Button +it, please!" she said, rather breathlessly, as if the exertion had +exhausted her somewhat. + +He took it, bent over it, suddenly pressed his lips to the soft wrist. + +"Oh, don't!" said Chris, and snatched it from him. + +When Max came back she was standing by the window, still fumbling at her +glove, with her back turned, while her _fiancé_ leaned against the +mantelpiece, finishing his cigarette. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE COMPACT + + +Wearily Bertrand de Montville turned his head upon the sofa-cushion, and +opened his heavy eyes. He seemed to be listening for something, but +evidently he considered that he had listened in vain, for his eyelids +began to droop again almost immediately. He seemed to drift into a state +of semi-consciousness. + +The evening sunlight was screened from his face by blinds, but even so +its deep shadows were painfully distinct. He looked unutterably tired. + +There came a slight sound at the door, and again his eyes were open. In a +moment, with incredible briskness, he was off the couch and half-way +across the room before, seized with sudden dizziness, he began to falter. + +Trevor Mordaunt, entering, made a dive forward, and held him up. + +"Now, my friend, lie down again," he said, "and stay down till further +orders." + +"Ah, pardon me!" the Frenchman murmured, clutching vaguely for support. +"I am strong, more strong than you think. I--I--" + +"Lie down," Trevor reiterated. "You don't give yourself a chance, man. +You forget you have been a helpless invalid for the past ten days. There! +How's that? Comfortable?" + +"You are always so good--so good!" panted de Montville very earnestly. "I +know not how to thank you--how to repay." + +"Just obey orders, that's all," said the Englishman, faintly smiling. "I +want to get you well. No, you are not well yet--say what you like, you're +not. I've let you get up for an experiment, but if you don't behave +yourself back you go. Now lie still, quite still, while I open my +letters. When you have quite recovered your breath we will have a talk." + +He had assumed this tone of authority from the outset, and de Montville +had submitted, in the first place because he was too ill to do otherwise, +and later because, somewhat to his surprise, he found himself impelled +thereto by his own inclination. It did not in any fashion wound his +pride, this kindly mastery. He wondered at himself for tolerating it, and +yet he offered no resistance. It was too great a thing to resist. + +So, still panting a little, he subsided obediently upon Mordaunt's sofa +while the latter busied himself with his correspondence. + +There was a considerable pile of letters. Mordaunt opened one after +another with the deliberation that marked most of his actions, but the +pile dwindled very quickly notwithstanding. Some letters he dropped at +once into a waste-paper basket, upon others he scribbled a few notes; +two or three he laid aside for further consideration. + +The last of all he held in his hand for several seconds unopened. The +envelope was a large one and stiff, as if it contained cardboard. It was +directed in an irregular, childish scrawl. Mordaunt, sitting at his +writing-table, with his back to his guest, studied it gravely, +thoughtfully. Finally very quietly he broke the seal. + +There was a crackle of tissue-paper, and he drew out a photograph--the +photograph of a laughing girl with a diminutive terrier of doubtful +extraction clasped in her arms. Without any change of countenance he +studied this also. + +He laid it at last upon his table, and turned in his chair. "Have you had +anything to drink?" + +De Montville looked slightly disconcerted by the question. "But no!" he +said. "I have not--that is to say, I would not--" + +Mordaunt stretched a hand to the bell. "Holmes should have seen to it. +What do you drink? Afraid I can't offer you absinthe." + +"But I never drink it, monsieur." + +"No? Whisky and soda, then?" + +"What you will, monsieur." + +"Very well. Whisky and soda, Holmes, and be quick about it." Mordaunt +glanced at the clock, looked again at the photograph at his elbow, +finally rose. "I want a talk with you, M. de Montville," he said, "if you +feel up to it. Don't get up, please. There is no necessity." + +But de Montville apparently thought otherwise, for he drew himself to a +sitting position and faced his benefactor. + +"I also," he said, "have desired to talk with you since long." + +Mordaunt pulled up a chair. "Do you mind if I talk first?" he said. + +"But certainly, monsieur." With quick courtesy the Frenchman made reply. +His dark eyes were very intent. He fixed them upon the Englishman's face +and composed himself to listen. + +"It's just this," Mordaunt said. "I think we know each other well enough +to dispense with preliminaries, so I will come to the point at once. Now +you have probably realized by this time that I am a very busy man--have +been for several years past. In my profession there is not much time for +sitting still, nor, till lately, have I wanted it. But there comes a time +in most men's lives when they feel that they would like to get out of the +rash and enjoy a little leisure, take it easy--in short, settle down and +grow old in comfort." + +De Montville nodded several times with swift intelligence. "_Alors_, +monsieur contemplates marriage," he said. + +Mordaunt laughed a little. "Exactly, _mon ami_, and that speedily." + +He broke off at the entrance of his servant, and for the next few seconds +busied himself with the mixing of drinks. De Montville continued to watch +him with keen interest. As Mordaunt handed him his glass he clutched the +sofa-head and stood up. + +"I drink to your future happiness," he said, with a sudden smile and bow, +"and to the lady who will be so fortunate as to share it!" + +Mordaunt held out his hand. "Thank you. Much obliged. But sit down, my +dear fellow. I haven't quite finished what I want to say. And you are too +shaky to be bobbing up and down. I was just going to point out where you +come in." + +De Montville gripped his hand with all his strength. "I can serve you, +then? You have only to speak." + +But Mordaunt would not speak till he was recumbent again. Then very +quietly he came to the point. + +"The upshot of it is that I want a secretary to take things off my hands +a bit, and since I would rather have a pal than a stranger in that +capacity I am wondering if you will take on the job." + +"I!" Utter amazement sounded in de Montville's voice. He sat bolt upright +for a space of seconds, staring into the impassive British face before +him. "But you--you--joke!" he said at last, his voice very low. + +"No, I am quite in earnest." Gravely Mordaunt returned his look. "I +believe we might pull together very well. Think it over, M. de Montville, +and if you feel inclined to give it a trial--" + +"I wish that you would call me Bertrand," de Montville broke in +unexpectedly. "It would be more convenient. My name is known in England, +and--I do not like publicity. As for your--so generous--suggestion, +monsieur, I have no words. I am your debtor in all things. I know well +that it is of my welfare that you think. For myself I do not need to +consider for a moment. I would accept with joy and gratitude the most +profound. But, I ask you, are you altogether wise in thus reposing your +confidence in a man of whom you know nothing, except that he was tried +and condemned for an offence of which you had the goodness to believe him +innocent? I repeat, monsieur, are you altogether wise?" + +"From my own point of view--absolutely." Mordaunt spoke with a smile. He +held up his glass. "You accept, then?" + +"How could I do other than accept?" protested the Frenchman, with +outspread hands. + +"Then drink with me to the success of our alliance," said Mordaunt. "I +believe it will work very well." + +He prepared to drink, but de Montville made a swift movement to arrest +him. "But one moment! First, monsieur, you will give me your promise that +if in any manner I fail to satisfy you, you will at once inform me of +it?" + +Mordaunt paused, regarding him steadily. "Yes, I will promise you that," +he said. + +"Ah! Good! Then I drink with you, monsieur, to the success of our +compact. It will be my pleasure and privilege to serve you to the utmost +of my ability." + +He drank almost with reverence, and set down his glass with a hand that +trembled. + +Mordaunt got up. "That is settled, then. By the way, the question of +salary does not seem to have occurred to you. I don't know if you have +any ideas upon the subject. Four hundred pounds per annum is what I +thought of offering." + +"Four hundred pounds!" De Montville stared at him in amazement. "Four +hundred pounds!" he repeated, in rising agitation. "But no, monsieur! It +is too much! I will not--I cannot--take--even from you--a gift so great. +I--I--" + +He waxed unintelligible in his distress, and would have risen, but +Mordaunt's hand upon his shoulder kept him down. Mordaunt bent over him, +very quiet and friendly, very sure of himself and of the man he +addressed. + +"That's all right, _mon ami_. It is not too much. It's a perfectly +fair bargain, and--to please me if you like--I want you to accept it. +You will find there is plenty to do, possibly more than you anticipate. +So--suppose we consider it settled, eh?" + +De Montville was silent. + +"We'll call it done," Mordaunt said. "Have a cigarette!" + +He held his case in front of the Frenchman, and after a moment de +Montville took one. But he only balanced it in his fingers, still saying +nothing. + +"A light?" suggested Mordaunt. + +He made a jerky movement, and glanced up for an instant. "Mr. Mordaunt," +he said, speaking with evident difficulty, "what is--a pal?" + +"A pal," Mordaunt said, smiling slightly, "is a special kind of friend, +Bertrand--the best kind, the sort you open your heart to in trouble, the +sort that is always ready to stand by." + +"Such a friend as you have been to me?" questioned de Montville slowly. + +"Well, if you like to say so," Mordaunt said. "I almost think we might +call ourselves pals by this time. What say you?" + +"I, monsieur?" He reached up and grasped the hand that rested on his +shoulder. "For myself I ask no better," he said, in a voice that quivered +beyond control, "than to be to you what you have been to me. And I will +sooner die by my own hand than give you cause to regret your kindness." + +"Which you never will," Mordaunt said. "Come, light up, man! Here's a +match!" + +He held it up, and de Montville had perforce to place the cigarette +between his lips. His throat was working spasmodically, but with a +valiant effort he managed to inhale a mouthful of smoke. He choked over +it badly the next moment, however, and Mordaunt patted his back with much +goodwill till he was better. + +"There, my dear fellow, lie down now and take it easy. I'm dining out; +but Holmes has special orders to look after you; and if you are wanting +anything, in the name of common-sense ask for it." + +With that he turned from the sofa, took up the photograph that lay +upon his writing-table, hesitated an instant, then thrust it into his +breast-pocket, and strolled out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A CONFESSION + + +"So you don't like my photograph!" said Chris. + +"Why do you say that?" + +"I could see you didn't. What's the matter with it? Isn't it pretty +enough? It's just like me." + +"Yes, it's just like you," Mordaunt admitted. + +"Then you don't like me?" suggested Chris. + +He smiled at that. "Yes, I like you very much. But--" + +"Well?" said Chris, her deep-sea eyes full of eager curiosity. "Go on, +please!" + +"Well," he said, "that photograph is not one that I could show to my +friends." + +"But why not--if it's just like me?" + +He took her chin and turned her face gently to the light. "Try again," he +said, "without Cinders." + +"Without Cinders!" She stared at him mystified, then began to laugh. +"Trevor, I believe you are jealous of Cinders!" + +"Perhaps," he said. "Anyhow, I should prefer your portrait without him. +You look like a baby of six cuddling a toy." + +"I wonder what makes you so anxious to marry me," said Chris +unexpectedly. + +Mordaunt still smiled at her. "Strange, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes, I can't understand it in the least." She shook her head with a +puzzled expression. "It's a pity you don't like that photograph. I'm sure +Cinders has come out beautifully. And he isn't a bit like a toy." + +"Yes, but I don't want Cinders." + +Chris looked at him with sudden misgiving. "But, Trevor, when--when we +are married--" + +"Oh, of course," he said at once. "I didn't mean that. I haven't the +smallest wish to part you from him. It's only his photograph I have no +use for." + +Her face cleared magically. "Dear Trevor, I quite understand. And I would +go and be done again to-morrow if I had the money, but I haven't." + +"Are you very hard up?" he asked. + +She nodded. "Horribly. I'm very extravagant, too--at least, Aunt Philippa +says so. I can't bear asking her for money. In fact, I--I--" + +She hesitated, avoiding his eyes. "Shall I tell you something, Trevor?" +she said in a whisper. "It's something I haven't told anyone else!" + +"Of course tell me!" He took her two hands into his, holding them up +against his heart. + +"Well--it's a secret, you know--I--I--" She raised her face in sudden +pleading. "Promise you won't be cross, Trevor." + +"I promise, dear," he answered gravely. + +"Well, I'm afraid it's rather bad of me. I haven't been paying for things +lately. I simply couldn't. London is a dreadful place for spending money, +isn't it? It's all quite little things, but they mount up shockingly. +And--and--Aunt Philippa is bound to give me some money presently for +my--my trousseau. So I thought--I thought--" She came nearer to him; she +laid her cheek coaxingly against his breast. "Trevor, you said you +wouldn't be cross." + +He put his hand on her bright hair. "I am not cross, dear. I am only +sorry." + +Chris was inclined to be a little tearful. She did not quite know what +had led her to tell him--it had been the impulse of a moment--but it was +a vast relief to feel he knew. + +"I'm not a very good manager, I'm afraid," she said. "But there are +certain things one must have, and they do add up so. I believe it's the +odd halfpennies and farthings that do it. Don't you ever find that?" + +"I can quite imagine it," he said. + +"Yes, they're so deceptive. I wonder why two-and-elevenpence +three-farthings sound so much less than three shillings. It's a snare and +a delusion. I don't think it ought to be allowed." She raised her head +with her April smile. "I'm very glad I told you, Trevor. You're very nice +about things. I was afraid you would be like Aunt Philippa, but you are +not in the least." + +"Thank you, Chris. Now I want to say something very serious to you. Will +you listen--and take it seriously?" + +She gave a little sigh. "I know exactly what it is." + +"No, you don't know." Mordaunt looked at her with eyes that were gravely +kind. "You are not to jump to conclusions where I am concerned," he said. +"You don't know me well enough. What I have to say is this. I can't have +you in difficulties for want of a little money. Those debts of yours must +be settled at once." + +"But, Trevor, Aunt Philippa--" + +"Never mind Aunt Philippa. It has nothing to do with her. It is a matter +between you and me. We will settle it without her assistance." + +"Oh, Trevor, but--" + +"There is no 'but,' Chris," he said, interrupting her almost sternly. "I +am nearer to you than your aunt. Tell me--as nearly as you can--what +those debts amount to." + +Chris was looking a little startled. "But I--I don't know," she said. + +"Well, find out and tell me." He smiled at her again. "It's all right, +dear. Don't be afraid of me. I know it's hard to keep within bounds when +there is a shortage of means. But I don't like debts. You won't run up +any more?" + +Chris still looked at him somewhat doubtfully. "I won't if I can help +it," she said. + +"You will be able to help it," he rejoined. + +"Yes, but, Trevor, please let me say it. I don't think you ought to--to +give me money before--before--Oh, do understand!" she broke off +helplessly. "You generally do." + +"I quite understand," he said, his hand on her shoulder. "But, my child, +I think, considering all things, that you need not let that scruple +trouble you. Since we are to be married in six weeks--" + +"In six weeks, Trevor!" Again that startled look that was almost one of +consternation. + +"In six weeks," he repeated, with quiet emphasis. "Your cousin will +probably be back from her honeymoon, and it will be the end of the +season. Since, then, our marriage is to take place in six weeks, and that +I shall then be responsible for you, I do not think you need be troubled +about letting me help you out of this difficulty now. No one will know of +it. It will set your mind at rest--and mine also." + +"Ah, but, Trevor--" Chris spoke somewhat breathlessly--she was rubbing +her hand nervously up and down his sleeve--"I'm not quite sure that--that +it will set my mind at rest. I'm not sure that--that I want you to do it, +or that I ought to let you even if I did, because, you see, because--" + +"Because--?" he said. + +She turned her head aside, avoiding his direct look. "Don't be angry, +will you? But just--just supposing something happened, and--and--and we +didn't get married after all?" + +She ended rather desperately, in an undertone. But for the quiet hand on +her shoulder she would have moved away from him; she might even have been +tempted to flee altogether. As it was, she stood still, trembling a +little, wondering if she had outrun his patience at last or if he had it +in him still to bear with her. + +He did not speak at once. She waited with a beating heart. + +"Well?" he said, and at the sound of his voice she thrilled with relief. +"It's as well to look all round a thing, I admit. We will consider that +supposition if you like. Say something happens to prevent our marriage. +What then? Is it to put an end to our friendship also?" + +She turned slightly towards him. "I might never be able to repay you," +she murmured. + +"I see. And that would trouble you--even though we remained friends?" + +She was silent. + +"It has always been a puzzle to me," he said, "why money--which is the +most ordinary thing in life--is the one thing that friends scruple to +accept from each other. Gifts of any other description, all sorts of +sacrifices, down to life itself, are offered and taken with no scruple of +pride. But when it comes to money, which is of very small value in +comparison, people begin to worry. Why, Chris, what are pounds, +shillings, and pence between you and me? Surely we have climbed above +that sort of thing, haven't we?" + +The tenderness of his tone moved her, in a fashion compelled her. She +went into his arms impulsively, she clung about his neck. Yet even then +her scruples were not quite laid to rest. + +"But--Trevor dear--just supposing we quarrelled? We might, you know, +about Cinders or anything. And then--and then--" + +"My dear," he said, "we certainly shall not quarrel about Cinders. I +can't for the life of me picture myself quarrelling with you under any +circumstances whatsoever. And even if we did, I don't think you would +hate me so badly as to grudge me the satisfaction of knowing that I had +been of use to you at an awkward moment. Don't you think we are getting +rather morbid, Chris?" + +"I don't know," she said, clinging closer. "I only know that you are +miles and miles too good for me. And whatever makes you want me I can't +think." + +He put his hand under her chin, and turned her face up to his own. +"I'll tell you another time. At the present moment I want to talk +about--getting married." + +He spoke the last two words very softly, holding her close lest she +should shrink away. + +But Chris, with her eyes on his, kept still and silent in his arms. Only +she turned rather white. + +He continued with the utmost gentleness. "Your cousin is going to be +married on the fifteenth of this month. Can't we arrange our wedding for +the fifteenth of next?" + +"The fifteenth!" said Chris. "Isn't that St. Swithin's Day?" + +She spoke so briskly that even Mordaunt was for the moment taken by +surprise. + +"St. Swithin's Day!" he echoed. "Well, what of it?" + +She broke into her gay laugh. "Oh, please not St. Swithin's Day! Just +imagine if it rained!" + +"Chris!" he said. "You're incorrigible!" + +His arms had slackened, and she drew away from him, breathing rather +quickly. + +"No, but really, wouldn't it be tragic? I shouldn't like a wet honeymoon, +should you? Hadn't we better wait till August? Or shall you be wanting to +go to Scotland?" + +"No," he said. "I am not going to Scotland this year." + +His eyes were still upon her, gravely watchful, but they expressed +nothing of impatience or exasperation. Very quietly he waited. + +"Shall we say August, then?" said Chris, in a small, shy voice, not +looking at him. + +"Will your aunt remain in town for August?" he asked. + +"But we are not obliged to be married in town," she pointed out. + +"Nor are we obliged to have a honeymoon, Chris," he said. "Shall we say +St. Swithin's Day, and forego the honeymoon--if it rains?" + +"Go straight home, you mean?" She turned back to him eagerly. "Oh, +Trevor, I should like that! I do want to superintend everything there. +Yes, let's do that, shall we? I always did think honeymoons were rather +silly, didn't you?" + +He smiled in spite of himself. "I daresay they are--from some points of +view. It is settled, then--St. Swithin's Day?" + +She nodded. "Yes. And we will go straight to Kellerton afterwards, and +work--like niggers. It won't matter a bit then whether it rains or not. +And Noel can spend his holidays with us and help. How busy we shall be!" + +She laughed up at him, all shining eyes and dimples. + +Again--in spite of himself--he laughed back, pinching her cheek. "Will +that please you, my little Chris?" + +"Oh, ever so!" said Chris. + +He stooped and lightly kissed her hair. "Then--so let it be!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A SURPRISE VISIT + + +It was raining--one of those sudden, pelting showers that descend from +June thunder-clouds, brief but drenching. It was also very dark, and +Bertrand had switched on the light. He was seated at Mordaunt's +writing-table, his black head bent over a pile of letters. The pen he +held moved busily, but not very quickly. He was writing with extreme +care. It was evident that he meant his first day's work to be a success. +He scarcely noticed the heavy downpour, being profoundly intent upon the +work he had in hand. Only at a sharp clap of thunder did he glance up +momentarily and shrug his shoulders. But he was at once immersed again in +his occupation, so deeply immersed that at the opening of the door he did +not turn his head. + +Holmes paused just inside the room. "If you please, sir--" + +"Ah, put it down, put it down!" said the Frenchman impatiently. "I am +busy." + +But Holmes, being empty-handed, did not comply with the request. He +remained hesitating, obviously doubtful, till with a sharp jerk de +Montville turned in his chair. + +"What is it, then? I have told you--I am busy." + +Holmes looked apologetic. He found the abrupt ways of the new secretary +somewhat disconcerting. "It's a young lady, sir," he explained rather +diffidently. "It's Miss Wyndham. She run in here for shelter, and, seeing +as Mr. Mordaunt be out, I didn't know whether you would wish me to show +her up or not, sir." + +Bertrand was on his feet in a moment. "A young lady! Miss Wyndham! Who +is--Miss Wyndham?" + +"It's the young lady as Mr. Mordaunt is a-going to marry," said Holmes, +dropping his voice confidentially. "I told her as Mr. Mordaunt weren't +in, and she said as she'd like to wait. Didn't know quite what to do, +sir. Would you like me to show her up?" + +"But certainly!" De Montville's eyebrows had gone up an inch, but he +lowered them hastily and smiled. Doubtless it was an English custom, +this; he must not display surprise. "Beg her to ascend," he said. "Mr. +Mordaunt may return at any moment. He would not wish his _fiancée_ to +remain below." + +"Very good, sir." Holmes withdrew, leaving the door ajar. + +Bertrand remained upon his feet, watching it expectantly. + +At the sound of voices on the stairs he smiled involuntarily. But how +they were droll--these English ladies! Would he ever accustom himself-- + +"Miss Wyndham, sir!" It was Holmes again, opening the door wide to usher +in the unexpected visitor. + +Bertrand bowed low. + +The visitor paused an instant on the threshold, then came briskly +forward. "Oh," she said, "are you the organ-grinder?" + +He straightened himself with a jerk; he looked at her. And suddenly a cry +rang through the room--a cry that came straight from a woman's heart, +inarticulate, thrilled through and through with a rapture beyond words. +And in a moment Bertrand de Montville, outcast and wanderer on the face +of the earth, had shed the bitter burden that weighed him down, had +leaped the dark dividing gulf that separated him from the dear land of +his dreams, and stood once more upon the sands of Valpré, with a girl's +hands fast clasped in his. + +"_Mignonne_!" he gasped hoarsely. "_Mignonne_!" And again "_Mignonne_!" + +Her answering voice had a break in it--a sound of unshed tears. +"Bertie--dear! Bertie--dear!" + +The door closed discreetly, and Holmes departed to his own premises. It +was no affair of his, he informed himself stolidly; but it was a rum go, +and he couldn't help wondering what the master would make of it. + +"But why wasn't I told?" said Chris, yet hovering between tears and +laughter. "They--Bertie--they said you were an organ-grinder!" + +He let her hands go, but his dark eyes still shone with the wonder and +the joy of the encounter. + +"Ah!" he said. "And they told me--they told me--that you were--" He +stopped abruptly with the dazed expression of a man suddenly hit in a +vital place. All the light went out of his face. He became silent. + +"Why--what is it?" said Chris. + +He did not answer at once, and in the pause that ensued he resumed his +burden, he re-crossed the gulf, and the sands of Valpré were left very, +very far away. + +In the pause also she saw him as he was--a man broken before his prime, +haggard and tired and old, with the fire of his genius quenched for ever +in the bitter waters of adversity. + +With an effort he spoke. "It is nothing, _chérie_. You are the same. But +with me--all is changed." + +"Changed, Bertie? But how?" + +He looked at her. His eyes dwelt upon the vivid, happy face, but all the +spontaneous gladness had died out of his own; it held only an infinite +melancholy. + +"He--Mr. Mordaunt--has not told you?" + +"No one has told me anything," she said. "What is it, Bertie? Have things +gone wrong with you? Tell me! Was it--was it the gun?" + +He bent his head. + +"Oh, but I'm so sorry," she said. "Was it a failure, after all?" + +She drew near to him. She laid a sympathetic hand upon his arm. + +A sharp tremor went through him. He stooped very low and kissed it. "It +was--worse than that," he said, his voice choked, barely audible. "It +was--it was--dishonour." + +"Dishonour!" She echoed the word, uncomprehending, unbelieving. + +He remained bent over her hand. She could not see his face. "Have you +never heard," he said, "of ex-Lieutenant de Montville--the man whom all +France execrated three years ago as a traitor?" + +"Yes," said Chris. "I've heard of him, of course. But"--doubtfully--"I +don't read the papers much. I didn't know what he was supposed to have +done. I only knew that everyone in England said he hadn't." + +The Frenchman sighed heavily. "The people in England did not know," he +said. + +"No? Then you think he was guilty?" + +He stood up sharply and faced her. "I know that he was innocent," he +said. "But it could not be proved. That is what the English could never +realize. And--_chérie_--I was that man. I was Lieutenant de Montville." + +Chris was gazing at him in amazement. "You!" she said incredulously. + +"I," he said. "They accused me of treason. They thought that I would sell +my own gun--my own gun. They sent me to prison--_mon Dieu_! I know not +how I survived. I suffered until it seemed that I could suffer no more. +And then they gave me my liberty--they banished me from France. I came to +England--and I starved." + +"You starved, Bertie!" Her blue eyes widened with horrified pity. "You!" +she said. "You!" + +He smiled with wistful humour. "Men more worthy than I have done the +same," he said. + +"Oh, but you, my own _preux chevalier_!" Chris's voice trembled upon the +words. + +He made a quick, restraining gesture. "But no--not that!" he said. "Your +friend always, _petite_, but your _preux chevalier_--never again!" + +Chris smiled, with quivering lips. "You will never be anything but my +_preux chevalier_ so long as you live," she said. "Oh, Bertie, I'm so +distressed--so grieved--to think of all you have had to bear. I never +dreamt of its being you. You know, I never heard your name. We went +away so suddenly from Valpré. I had no time to think of anything. I--I +was very miserable--afterwards." Her voice sank; her eyes were full of +tears. "I knew you would think I had forgotten, but indeed, indeed it +wasn't that!" + +"Ah, _pauvre petite_!" he said gently. + +"And you didn't know my name either, did you?" she said. "I kept telling +myself you would find out somehow and write--but you never did." + +He spread out his hands. "But what could I do? Your name was not known. +And I--I could not leave Valpré to seek you. My duties kept me at the +fortress. And so--and so--I said that I would wait until my fortune was +well assured, and then--then--" He stopped. "But that is past," he said, +with an odd little smile that somehow cut her to the heart. "_Et +maintenant_ tell me of yourself, _petite_, of all your affairs. Much may +arrive in four years. But first--you are happy, yes?" + +Eagerly the dark eyes sought hers as he asked the question. + +Chris looked back at him with a little frown. "Yes, I am happy, Bertie. +At least--I should be happy--if it weren't for thinking of you. Oh, +Bertie, that horrid gun! I always hated it!" + +Again her voice quivered on the verge of tears, and again with a quick +gesture he stayed her. + +"We will speak of it no more," he said. "See! We turn another page in the +book of life, and we commence again. Let us remember only, Christine, +that we are good comrades, you and I. But it is a good thing, this +_camaraderie_. It gives us pleasure, yes?" + +She gave him her hands impulsively. "Bertie!" she cried. "We shall always +be pals--always--all our lives; but don't--dear, don't smile at me like +that! I can't bear it!" + +He held her hands very tightly; he had wholly ceased to smile. But still +gallantly he shielded her from the danger she had not begun to see. He +did it instinctively, because of the love he bore her, and because of the +innocence in her eyes. + +"But what is it?" he said. "It is necessary that we smile sometimes, +_chérie,_ since to weep is futile, and laughter is always more precious +than tears. Ah! that is better. You smile yourself. It is always thus +that I remember my little friend of Valpré. She was ever too brave for +tears." + +He pressed her hands encouragingly, and again he let them go. But the +strain was telling upon him. There was one subject which he could not +trust himself to broach. + +And for some reason Chris could not broach it either. She took refuge in +every-day affairs; she told him of the giddy doings that kept her +occupied from morning till night, of Cinders (the mention of whose name +kindled a reminiscent gleam in the Frenchman's eyes), of the coming +birthday dance, which he must promise to attend. + +He shook his head over that; such gaieties were not for him. But Chris +pressed the point with much persistence. Of course he must come. It would +be no fun without him. Did he remember that birthday picnic at Valpré, +and--and the night they had passed in the Magic Cave? She spoke of it +with heightened colour and a hint of defiance which was plainly not +directed against him. + +"And I was afraid of the dragon," she said. "And you held my hand. I +remember it so well. And afterwards I went to sleep, and slept all night +long with my head on your shoulder." + +"You were but a child," he said softly. + +"But it seems like yesterday," she answered. + +And then it was that the door opened very quietly, and Trevor Mordaunt +came in upon them, sitting together in the gloom. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE EXPLANATION + + +There was nothing hurried in his entrance, nothing startling; but yet a +sudden silence fell. + +Out of it almost immediately came Bertrand's voice. "Ah, Mr. +Mordaunt, you return to find a visitor. Miss--Wyndham is here. She +came to seek you, but she found only--" he spread out his hands +characteristically--"the organ-grinder." + +He had risen with the words; so also had Chris. She went forward, but +without her usual impetuosity. + +"I have found an old friend, Trevor," she said, speaking quickly, as if +embarrassed. "I have known Mr.--Mr.--what did you say your name was?" +turning towards him again. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "I am called Bertrand, mademoiselle." + +She smiled in her quick way. "I have known--Bertrand--for years. At +least, we used to know each other years ago, and--and we knew each other +again the moment we met. It was a great surprise to me--to us both." + +"And a great pleasure," said Bertrand, with a bow. + +"An immense pleasure," said Chris, with enthusiasm. + +"But, my dear girl," Mordaunt said, his quiet voice falling almost coldly +upon their explanations, "what on earth made you come here of all +places?" + +"Oh," said Chris, leaping to this new point almost with relief, "it was +raining, and thundering too. I hadn't an umbrella and I knew I should be +drenched, and this was the nearest shelter I could think of, so I just +came. It seemed the most sensible thing to do. I thought perhaps you +would be pleased to see me. I even fancied you might give me tea." + +There was a faint note of wistfulness in her voice though she was +smiling. She stood before him with something of the air of a culprit. + +"Of course Aunt Philippa wouldn't approve," she said. "I know that. +But--you always say you are not like Aunt Philippa, Trevor." + +He took her hand very gently but with evident purpose into his own. + +"I will give you tea with pleasure," he said, "but not here. Holmes shall +call a taxi. I am afraid you must say good-bye to your friend now, +unless--" he paused momentarily--"unless, Bertrand, you care to accompany +us." + +"Oh do, Bertie!" she said eagerly. "I want you. Please come!" + +But Bertrand's refusal was instant and final. + +"It is impossible," he declared. "I thank you a thousand times, but I +have yet many letters to write, and the post will not wait." + +"Letters?" said Chris curiously. + +"M. Bertrand is my secretary," said Mordaunt quietly. + +"Oh, is he? And you never told me! But what a splendid idea!" Chris stood +between the two men, flushed, eager, charming. "I'm so glad, Bertie," she +said impulsively. "You may think yourself very lucky. Mr. Mordaunt is +quite the nicest man in the world." + +Bertrand bowed low. "I believe it," he said simply. + +"Then we shall see quite a lot of each other," went on Chris. "That will +be great fun--just like old times. Oh, must I really go? I don't want to +at all, and nothing will make me sorry that I came." She threw a gay +smile at her _fiancé_, and withdrew her hand to give it to the friend of +her childhood. "_Au revoir, preux chevalier_! You will come to my +birthday party? Promise!" Then, as he still shook his head: "Trevor, if +you don't bring him, I shall come all by myself and fetch him." + +"No, you mustn't do that," Mordaunt answered with decision. + +"Then will you bring him?" + +"I will do my best," he promised gravely. + +"Will you really? Oh, thank you, Trevor. I shall expect you then, Bertie. +Good-bye!" + +Her hand lay for a couple of seconds in his, and he bent low over it, but +he did not speak in answer. + +She went out of the room with the silent Englishman. He heard her +laughing as they went downstairs. He heard her gay young voice a while +longer in the hall below. Then came the throb of a motor and the closing +of the street door. She was gone. + +He stood quite motionless, listening to the taxi as it whirred away. And +even after he ceased to hear it he did not move. He was gazing straight +before him, and his eyes were the eyes of a man in a dream. They saw +naught. + +Stiffly at last he moved, and something like a shudder went through him. +He crossed the room heavily, with the gait of one stricken suddenly old. +He sat down again at the writing-table, and took up the pen that he had +dropped--how long ago! + +He even wrote a few words slowly, laboriously, still with that fixed look +in his eyes. Then quite suddenly he was assailed by a violent tremor. He +pushed back his chair with a sharp exclamation, half-rose, then as +swiftly flung himself forward and lay across the table, face downwards, +gasping horribly, almost choking. His hands were clenched, and hammered +upon the papers littered there. The pen rolled unheeded over the polished +wood and fell upon the floor. + +Seconds passed into minutes. Gradually the bony fists ceased their +convulsive tattoo. The laboured breathing grew less agonized. The man's +rigid pose relaxed. But still he lay with his arms outspread and his head +bowed between them, a silent image of despair. + +Slowly the minutes crawled by. Down in the street below a newsboy was +yelling unintelligibly, and in the distance a barrel-organ jangled the +latest music-hall craze; but he was deep, deep in an abyss of suffering, +very far below the surface of things. There was something almost boyishly +forlorn in his attitude. With his face hidden, he looked pathetically +young. + +The sound of the opening door recalled him at last, and he started +upright. It was Holmes with the evening paper. + +The man spied the pen upon the floor and stooped for it. Bertrand +stretched out a quivering hand, took it from him, and made as if he would +resume his writing. But the pen only wandered aimlessly over the paper, +and in a moment fell again from his nerveless fingers. + +Holmes paused. Bertrand sat with his head on his hand as if unaware of +him. + +"Can I get you anything, sir?" he ventured. + +Bertrand made a slight movement. "If I might have--a little brandy," he +said, speaking with obvious effort. + +"Brandy? I'll get it at once, sir," said Holmes, and was gone with the +words. + +Returning, he found Bertrand so far master of himself as to force a +smile, but his face was ghastly. There was a blue, pinched look about his +mouth that Holmes, reminiscent of his hospital days, did not like. He had +seen that look before. + +But the first taste of spirit dispelled it. Very courteously Bertrand +thanked him. + +"You are a good man, Holmes. And I think that you are my friend, yes?" + +"Very pleased to do anything I can for you, sir," said Holmes. + +"Ah! Then I will ask of you one little thing. It is that you remember +that this weakness--this malady of a moment--remain a secret between us +two--between--us--two. _Vous comprenez; non_?" + +His eyes, very bright and searching, looked with a certain peremptoriness +into the man's face, and Holmes, accustomed to obey, made instinctive +response. + +"You mean as I am not to mention it to Mr. Mordaunt, sir?" + +"That is what I mean, Holmes." + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes. "You're feeling better, I hope, sir?" + +Very slowly de Montville rose to his feet, and stood, holding to the back +of his chair. + +"I am--quite well," he said impressively. + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes again, and withdrew, shaking his head +dubiously as soon as he was out of the Frenchman's sight. + +As for de Montville, he went slowly across to the window and, leaning +against the sash, gazed down upon the empty street. + +Not until he heard Mordaunt's step outside more than half an hour later +did he move, and then very abruptly he returned to the writing-table and +seized the pen anew. He was writing with feverish rapidity when Mordaunt +entered. + +Very quietly Mordaunt came up and looked over his shoulder. "My boy," he +said, "I am very sorry, but that is not legible." + +His tone was unreservedly kind, and Bertrand jerked up his head as if +surprised. + +He surveyed the page before him with pursed lips, then flashed a quick +look into Mordaunt's face. + +"It is true," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "I also am sorry." + +"Leave it," Mordaunt said. "You are looking fagged, Yes, I mean it. It +will keep." + +"But I have done nothing!" Bertrand protested, with outspread hands. + +"No? Well, I don't believe you ought to be doing anything at present. +Come and sit down." Then, peremptorily, as Bertrand hesitated: "I won't +have you overworking yourself. Understand that! I have had trouble +enough to get you off the sick list as it is." + +He spoke with that faint smile of his that placed most men at their ease +with him. Bertrand turned impulsively and grasped his hand. + +"You have been--you are--more than a brother to me, monsieur," he said, +with feeling. "And I--I--ah! Permit me to tell you--I--am glad that +Mademoiselle has placed herself in your keeping. It was a great surprise, +yes. But I am glad--from my heart. She will be safe--and happy--with +you." + +He spoke with great earnestness; his sincerity was shining in his eyes. +Mordaunt, looking straight down into them, saw no other emotion than +sheer friendliness, a friendliness that touched him, coming from one who +was so nearly friendless. + +"I shall do my best to make her so," he made grave reply. "She has been +telling me about you, Bertrand." + +"Ah!" The Frenchman's eyes interrogated him for a moment and instantly +fell away. "I am surprised," he said, "to be remembered after so long. +No, I had not forgotten her; but that is different, _n'est-ce pas_? I +think that no one would easily forget her." He smiled as though +involuntarily at some reminiscence. "_Christine et le bon Cinders_!" he +said in his soft voice. "We were all friends together. We were--" again +his eyes darted up to meet the Englishman's level scrutiny--"what you +call 'pals,' monsieur." + +Mordaunt smiled. "So I gathered. It happened at Valpré, I understand." + +Bertrand nodded. His eyes grew dreamy, grew remote. "Yes," he said +slowly, "it happened at Valpré. The little one was lonely. We made games +in the sand. We chased the crabs; we explored the caves; we played +together--as children." He stifled a sudden sigh, and rose. "_Eh bien_," +he said, "we cannot be children for ever. We grow up--some quick--some +slow--but all grow up at last." + +He broke off, and took up the evening paper to cut the leaves. + +Mordaunt watched him in silence--a silence through which in some fashion +he conveyed his sympathy; for after a moment Bertrand spoke again, still +dexterously occupied with his task. + +"Ah! you understand," he said. "I have no need to explain to you that +this meeting with my little friend who belonged to the happy days that +are past has given me almost as much of pain as of pleasure. I do not try +to explain--because you understand." + +"You will get over it, my dear fellow," Mordaunt said, with quiet +conviction. + +"You think it?" Bertrand glanced up momentarily. + +"I do," Mordaunt answered, with a very kindly smile. "In fact, I think, +with all due respect to you, that you are younger than you feel." + +"Ah!" There was not much conviction in Bertrand's response. He +stood up and handed the paper to Mordaunt with a quick bow. "But--all +the same--you understand?" he questioned, with a touch of anxiety. + +"Of course I understand," Mordaunt answered gently. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BIRTHDAY PARTY + + +"At last!" said Chris. + +It was her birthday party, and she stood at the head of the stairs by her +aunt's side, receiving her guests. + +Very young she looked, a child still, despite her twenty-one years, and +supremely happy. Her aunt, one of those ladies whose very smile is in +itself an act of condescension, was treating her with unusual +graciousness that night, and there was not a star awry in Chris's +firmament. + +She had just caught a glimpse of her _fiancé_ in the crowd below her, and +a hasty second glance had shown her that he was not unaccompanied. A +slight man, olive-skinned, with a very small, black moustache and quick +eyes that searched upwards restlessly, was ascending the stairs with him. +In the instant that she looked those eyes found her, and flashed their +quick recognition. + +Chris waved her fan in eager greeting. "Ah, there he is!" she cried +aloud. + +"My dear child!" said Aunt Philippa. + +Impetuously Chris turned to her. "He is a friend of mine, and Trevor's +secretary. I told Trevor to bring him. He is French, and his name is +Bertrand." + +Her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she made this hasty +explanation. She had purposely left it till a crowded moment, for Aunt +Philippa was apt to be very searching in her inquiries, and Chris shrank +at all times from being catechized by this somewhat formidable relative +of hers. + +"Trevor knows all about him; they are friends," she added, in response to +a slight drawing of the brows, with which she was tragically well +acquainted. + +"All?" murmured Max in her ear from her other side, with a mischievous +twinkle in his green eyes. + +Chris ignored him, but she turned a vivid crimson, and the hand she +stretched to Mordaunt was quivering with agitation. But in his quiet +grasp it became still. She looked up into his eyes and smiled a welcome +with recovered self-possession. + +"Oh, Trevor, here you are! And you've brought Bertie as you promised." +She gave her other hand to Bertrand with the words, but she did not speak +to him--she went on talking to her _fiancé_. "I've had a tremendous day, +and thank you a million times for--you know what. It's a good thing you +booked your dances beforehand, for I haven't any left." + +"Not one for me?" murmured Bertrand, as he bent over her hand. + +She turned to him with a radiant smile. "Yes, yes, of course! Should I be +likely to forget all old pal like you? Trevor, will you introduce him to +Aunt Philippa?" + +"My friend Mr. Bertrand," said Mordaunt promptly. + +Mrs. Forest acknowledged the introduction with extreme chilliness. She +strongly disapproved of Chris's faculty for developing unexpected +friendships. The child was so regrettably free-and-easy in all her ways. +Of course, if Trevor Mordaunt approved of their intimacy, and apparently +he did, there was nothing to be said, but she herself could not regard it +with favour. Once more she congratulated herself that her +responsibilities where Chris was concerned were nearly at an end. + +But if her greeting were cold, Bertrand scarcely had time to remark it, +for his attention was instantly diverted by the red-haired youth who +lounged behind her. Max, whose presence had been annoying his aunt all +day, thrust out a welcoming hand to the new-comer. + +"Hullo!" he said. "You, is it?" + +Bertrand raised his brows. He gave his hand, after an instant's +hesitation, with a non-committing, "Myself--yes." + +Max drew him aside out of the crowd. "It's all right. I'm Chris's +brother, and I shan't give you away. But how long do you expect to remain +incog., I wonder? I knew your face the moment I saw you on the stairs." + +"You know me?" said Bertrand, drawing back a little. + +"Of course I know you. Who could help it? Your face is one of the best +known in Europe. So you are the hero that Chris used to worship at +Valpré! She mentioned the one fact to me, but not the other. She knows, I +suppose?" + +"Ah, yes, but it is a secret." Bertrand spoke wearily, as if reluctant to +discuss the matter. "It is not my desire to be recognized. She knows that +also." + +"I never knew Chris could keep a secret before," commented Max. + +A quick gleam shot up in the Frenchman's eyes. "Then you do not know her +very well," he said. + +Max smiled shrewdly, but did not contest the point. He seldom argued, and +Chris herself at this moment intervened. + +"Bertie, I've saved the supper extras for you. Don't forget. Max, you +know most of the people here. Do introduce him, or find Jack--he will. +I'm dancing the first with Trevor. Good-bye!" + +She flashed her smile upon him, and was gone. Bertrand stood and watched +her as she went away through the throng with Trevor Mordaunt. Everyone +watched her, and nearly everyone smiled. She was so naïvely, so sublimely +happy. + +Her gay young laugh rang out as they began to dance. "Isn't it fun?" she +said; and then, with her eyes turned to his, "Trevor, I've such a crowd +of things to thank you for that I don't know where to begin." + +"Then, my dear child, don't begin!" he said, with his indulgent smile. + +She frowned at him. "You are not to call me 'child' any longer. I'm +grown-up." + +His smile remained. "Since when?" he said. + +"That's a rude question which I am not going to answer. But, Trevor, +you--you shouldn't have sent me all that money. It's much more than I +want." + +"I'm glad to hear it," he said; and, after a moment, "I hope you will +spend it profitably." + +"Oh, yes." Eagerly she made reply. "I've bought a new collar for +Cinders--such a beauty, with bells! I thought it would be so useful if he +went rabbiting." + +"What! To warn the rabbits?" + +"Oh, no! I never thought of that! Poor Cinders! It would spoil his sport, +wouldn't it? And he's such a sportsman. I suppose I shall have to keep it +for Sundays after all. What a pity! I thought it would help us to find +him if he got lost." + +"But he always turns up again," said Mordaunt consolingly. + +Her blue eyes flashed their sunshine. "Yes, yes, of course. And another +thing I did which ought to please you very much." + +The indulgence turned to approval on Mordaunt's face. "I can guess what +that was," he said. + +"Can you?" Chris looked delighted. "Well, you mustn't tell Aunt Philippa, +because she would call it shocking extravagance, and I really only did it +to please you." + +"Oh! Then I am afraid I haven't guessed right." Mordaunt's expression +became one of grave doubt. + +Chris laughed aloud. "You will have to guess again. No, please go on +dancing. One only gets hotter standing still." + +"But, Chris," he said, "I want to know." + +His tone was perfectly kind, as gentle as it always was when he addressed +her, and yet the quick glance that she threw him was not without a hint +of misgiving. The slender young body stiffened ever so slightly against +his arm. + +"I wonder if Bertie has found a partner," she said. "Do you think we +ought to go and see?" + +He guided her towards the entrance. A good many people were standing +about, and one after another accosted Chris. She answered blithely +enough, her hand still upon her _fiancé's_ arm, but yet there was that +about her that made him aware that she was not wholly at her ease. When +he drew her towards a room beyond that led to a conservatory, she hung +back. + +"I want to find Bertie. Where is he?" + +Jack Forest appeared at that moment, and she turned to him with evident +relief. "Oh, Jack, where is Mr. Bertrand? I told Max to hand him over to +you. He knows no one, and I do want him to have a good time." + +"Be easy, my child," said Jack, with a cheery grin. "He is having the +time of his life. The mater has taken him under her wing." + +"Jack!" Chris stood aghast. + +"Don't agitate yourself," said Jack. "It's all serene. He is thoroughly +enjoying himself. Where are you two off to? Going to sit out in the dark? +Shall I come and mount guard?" + +"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" protested Chris. "Jack, remember our dance is +the next." + +Jack bowed with his hand on his heart. "I don't forget such things. Make +the most of your time, Trevor. It's nearly up." + +He departed with a careless swagger, and Chris turned to her quiet +companion and gave a little shiver. "Why did we leave off dancing? I'm +cold." + +He led her across the hall to a settee. Someone had thrown a scarf upon +it. He put it round her shoulders. + +"It isn't mine," she said, "and it isn't that sort of cold either. I hope +Aunt Philippa isn't teasing Bertie. Do you think she is?" + +"I think he can take care of himself," Mordaunt said. + +"Do you? I don't. Aunt Philippa is sure to say horrid things to him. I +think we ought to go and find them--really." + +There was a note of pleading in her voice, but Mordaunt did not respond +to it. He sat and contemplated her, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. + +He leaned forward at last and spoke very quietly. "Chris," he said, +"forgive me for asking, but--you have paid your debts?" + +The colour surged up all over her fair face. She began to pluck +restlessly at her fan. But she said no word. Only as he took it gravely +from her, she glanced up as though compelled, and for a single instant +sheer panic looked at him out of her eyes. + +"My dear," he said, "will you attend to the matter to-morrow?" + +But still she was silent, quiveringly, piteously silent. The colour had +gone out of her face now; she was as white as the dress she wore. + +"You will?" he said gently. + +She made a little sound that was like a repressed sob, and put her hand +sharply to her throat. + +"You will?" he said again. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +He dismissed the matter instantly, opened the fan he had taken from her, +and began to admire it. + +"Jack gave it to me," she said. "It's a birthday present. He always gives +me nice things. So do you, Trevor. Your pendant is the loveliest thing I +have ever seen." + +He had sent her a pendant of turquoise and pearl, and it hung upon her +neck at the moment. She fingered it lovingly. + +"I shall go to bed in it," she said, "so as to have it all night long. It +feels so delicious. I wish I could see it. It was the very thing I saw in +Bond Street a few weeks ago, and wanted to wear at Hilda's wedding." She +broke off with a sudden sigh. "It will be horrid when Hilda's married." + +"Will it?" he said. + +"Yes, horrid," she repeated with vehemence. "Aunt Philippa is going to +turn all her attention to me then. Of course, I know she is very kind, +but--well, I feel as if this is my last week of freedom. I shall be +almost glad when--" She broke off abruptly. "Do let us go and rescue +Bertie," she said, "before we get swallowed up in the crowd." + +He got up at once and silently offered his arm. She slipped her hand +within it, and gave it a little squeeze. + +"We'll dance to the _finale_ next time," she said lightly. "It's much +more fun than talking." + +She added carelessly, as they moved away together: "By the way, I had my +photograph taken this morning. I don't know if you will like it. Shall I +send you one?" + +"Do," he said. And after a moment, smiling faintly: "Was that the thing +that was to please me?" + +She nodded, not looking at him. + +He laid his hand for an instant upon hers. "Thank you, Chris," he said. + +She turned instantly and smiled upon him. "You can give it to Bertie if +you don't like it," she made blithe response. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +PALS + + +"Ah! now for a good talk," said Chris. "We have got at least half an +hour. Are you tired, Bertie, or only bored?" + +But he was neither, he assured her. He had enjoyed his evening greatly. +No, he had not danced. He had found it enough diverting to look on +tranquilly in a corner. _Mais oui_, everybody had been most kind, +including his hostess, to whom he paid a special tribute of appreciation. +He had found her as gracious as she was beautiful. + +"Did she try to pump you?" asked Chris. + +He raised his brows in humorous bewilderment. But to pump--what was it? +To ask questions? Ah yes, she had asked him several questions. He had not +answered all of them. He feared she had found him a little stupid. But +she had been very patient with him, ah! so patient--he spread out his +hands, with the old, quick smile, and Chris's peal of laughter echoed far +and wide. + +"Bertie, you're too heavenly for words! Then she didn't find out about +Valpré? She thinks--I suppose she thinks--that Trevor introduced us to +each other." + +"I do not know what she thinks," the Frenchman made answer. "But no, we +did not speak of Valpré! That is a secret, _hein_?" + +"Not exactly a secret. I told Max. But Aunt Philippa--oh, she is so +different. She never understands things," said Chris. "I daresay she will +find out from Trevor as it is; but I hope she won't--I do hope she +won't!" + +He smiled comprehendingly. "But Mr. Mordaunt--he understands, yes?" he +said. + +She hesitated. "I never told even him about that night in the Magic Cave, +Bertie." + +"No?" he said, his quick eyes upon her. "But why not?" + +She shook her head with vehemence. "I couldn't. Everyone--even Jack--made +such a fuss at the time--as if--as if"--she turned crimson--"I had done +something really wicked. I'm sure I don't know why. I always said so." + +There was defiance as well as distress in her voice. Bertrand leaned a +little towards her. + +"Mr. Mordaunt would not think like that," he said, with conviction. + +She looked at him dubiously. "I'm not so sure. He has extraordinary views +on some things. I never quite know how he will take anything. Other +people are the same. You are the only person I am quite sure of." + +He smiled, but not as if greatly elated. "That is because we are pals," +he said. + +"Yes, I know. It's good to have a pal who understands." Chris spoke a +little wistfully, but almost instantly dismissed the matter. "Why, I am +forgetting! You haven't seen Cinders yet, and I told him you were coming. +He is upstairs. Shall we go and find him?" + +They went up together. Half-way up she slipped her hand into his, with a +soft little laugh. "It's like old times, Bertie. Don't break the spell, +_preux chevalier_. Let us pretend--just for to-night!" + +They found Cinders imprisoned in a little sitting-room at the top of the +house which Chris shared with her cousin. His greeting of Bertrand was +effusive, even rapturous. Like his mistress, he never forgot a friend. + +Afterwards they sat and talked of many things, chiefly connected with +Valpré. There was so much to remember--Mademoiselle Gautier and her +queer, conventual prejudices, Manon, the maid-of-all-work, and her funny +stories of the shore. + +"She quite believed in the spell," Chris said. "She almost frightened me +with it." + +"Without doubt there was a spell," said Bertrand gravely. + +"You really think so? I never believed in it after that night." + +"No?" he said. "And yet it was there." + +Chris peered at him. "You talk as if it were something quite +substantial," she said. + +"It was substantial," he made answer, and then with a sudden smile into +her wondering eyes: "As substantial, _chérie_, as my rope of sand that +was to make my work endure like--like the Sphinx and Cleopatra's Needle +and--and--" He broke off with his eloquent shrug, paused a moment, +then--"and--our friendship, if you will," he ended. + +"Ah, fancy your remembering that!" she said. "But I believe you remember +everything." + +"That is the spell," he said. + +"Is it, Bertie? And do you remember the duel, and how you wouldn't tell +me what it was all about? Tell me now!" she begged, as a child pleading +for a story. "I always wanted to know." + +But his face darkened instantly. "Not that, _petite_. He was bad. He was +_scélérat_. We will not speak of him." + +"But, Bertie, I'm grown-up now. I'm quite old enough to know," she urged, +with a coaxing hand upon his arm. + +He took the hand, turned it upwards, stroked the soft palm very +reverently. "I pray that you will never be old enough, Chris," he said, +and in the shaded lamplight she saw that his face had grown suddenly +melancholy, almost haggard. "The knowledge of evil is a poisonous thing. +Those who find it can never be young again." + +His manner awed her a little. She did not pursue the point with her +customary persistence. "Well, tell me what happened afterwards," she +said. "He got well again?" + +"Yes, _petite_." + +"And--you forgave each other?" + +"Never!" Bertrand raised his head and shot out the word with emphasis. + +"Never, Bertie?" Chris looked at him, slightly startled. + +He looked back at her, faintly smiling, but with the melancholy still in +his eyes. "Never," he repeated. "That shocks you, no?" + +"Not really," she said loyally. "I'm sure he was horrid. He looked it. +Then--you are enemies still?" + +"Enemies?" He shrugged his shoulders. "No, I think he would not consider +me as an enemy now." + +"And yet you never forgave him?" + +"No, never." Again his denial was emphatic. After a moment, seeing her +bewilderment, he proceeded to explain. "If he had apologized, if he had +retracted the insult, then it is possible that a reconciliation might +have been effected between us." + +"But he didn't?" said Chris. "Then what happened? Did he do nothing at +all?" + +"For a long time--nothing," said Bertrand. + +"And then?" + +"Then," very simply he made reply, "he ruined me." + +"Bertie!" She gazed at him with tragedy dawning in her eyes. "He ruined +you! He!" + +"He supplied the evidence against me," Bertrand said. "But it was clever. +He spread a net--so"--he flung out his hands with an explanatory +gesture--"a net that I see not nor suspect, and then when I am entrapped +he draw it close--close, and--I am a prisoner." He shut his teeth with a +click, and for an instant smiled--the smile of the man who fights with +his back against the wall. + +But the tragedy had grown from shadow to reality in the turquoise blue +eyes of the girl beside him. "Oh, Bertie," she said, with a break in her +voice, "then it was all my fault--mine!" + +He turned towards her swiftly. "No, no, no! Who has said that? It is not +true!" he declared, with vehemence. + +"You said it yourself--almost," she told him. "And it is true, for if you +hadn't fought him it would never have happened. Oh, Bertie! I'm beginning +to think it was a dreadful pity I ever went to Valpré!" + +He caught her hands and held them. "You shall not say it!" he declared +passionately. "You shall not think it! _Mignonne_, listen! Those days at +Valpré are to me the most precious, the most sacred, the most dear of my +life. They can never return, it is true. But the memory of them is mine +for ever. Of that can no one deprive me. While I live I shall cherish +them in my heart." + +He cheeked himself abruptly; she was gazing at him with a sort of +speculative wonder that had arrested the tragedy in her eyes. At his +sudden pause she began to smile. + +"Bertie, dear, forgive me, but I can't help thinking what a funny +Englishman you would have made! So you really don't think it was my +fault? I'm so glad. I should break my heart if it were." + +He stooped, catching her hands up to his lips, whispering inarticulately. + +She suffered him, half-laughing. "Silly Frenchman!" she said softly. + +And at that he looked up and let her go. "You are right," he said, +speaking rather thickly. "I am foolish. I am mad. And you--you have the +patience of an angel to support me thus." + +"Oh no," said Chris. "I'm not a bit like an angel. In fact, I'm rather +wicked sometimes--not very, you know, Bertie, only rather. Now let me +show you my presents. I brought them up here on purpose." + +So gaily she diverted the conversation, mainly because she had caught a +gleam of tears in her friend's eyes and was aware that they had not been +far from her own. It would never do for them to sit crying together on +her birthday night. Besides, it was too ridiculous, for what was there to +cry about? Bertrand was in a better position now than he had been for +years. And she--and she--well, it was her birthday, and surely that was +reason enough for being glad. + +It was Bertrand who at length gently drew her attention to the time. They +had been talking for the best part of an hour. + +"Will not the supper dances be nearly finished?" he suggested. + +"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Chris. "Yes, long ago. We must fly. Say +good-bye to Cinders. You will come and see him again soon, won't you? +Come just as often as you can." + +At the door she paused a moment, slipped a warm hand into his, and for +the first time shyly broke her silence upon the subject of her +approaching marriage. + +"I'm so glad you are coming to live with us when we are married," she +said. "I shall never feel lonely with you there." + +"You would not be lonely without me," he made quick response. "You will +have always your husband." + +She caught her breath, and then laughed. "To be sure. I hadn't thought of +that. But Trevor is always busy, and he is going to write a book too." +She looked at him with sudden mischief in her eyes. "Yes, I am very glad +you are coming," she said again. "When he doesn't want you with him you +can come and play with me. And when it's summer"--her eyes fairly +danced--"we'll go for picnics, Bertie, lots of picnics. You'll like that, +_preux chevalier_?" + +He smiled back upon her; who could have helped it? But he stifled a sigh +as he smiled. Would life be always a picnic to her, he asked himself? He +could not imagine it otherwise, and yet he knew that even upon this child +of mirth and innocence the reality of life must dawn some day. Would it +be a gracious dawning of pearly tints and roselit radiance, gradually +filling that eager young soul to the brim with the greater joys of life? +Or would it be fiery and terrible, a blinding, relentless burst of light, +from which she would shrink appalled, discerning the wrath of the gods +before ever she had realized their bounty? + +Could it be thus with her, his little comrade, his bird of Paradise, his +darling? He thought not. He believed not. And yet deep in the heart of +him he feared. + +And because of that lurking fear he vowed silently over the little +friendly hand that lay so confidingly in his that never while breath +remained in his body would he leave her until he knew her happiness--the +ultimate happiness of her womanhood--to be assured. + +It seemed to him that it was for this alone that he had been introduced +once more into her book of life. All his hopes and dreams had passed; he +was an old man before his time; but this one thing, it seemed, was left +to him. For a while longer his name would figure with hers across the +page. Only when the page turned his part would be done. She would not +need him then. She would be a woman; and--_eh bien_, it was only the +child Chris who could ever be expected to need him now. When she ceased +to be a child the need--if such, indeed, existed--would be for ever past; +and he would be no more to her than a memory--the memory of one who had +played with her a while in the happy land of her childhood and had shared +with her the picnics of those summer days. + +This was the sole remaining aspiration of Bertrand de Montville--the man +who in the arrogance of his youth had diced with the gods, and had lost +the cast. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A REVELATION + + +"My dear, it is quite useless for you to attempt to justify your conduct, +for it was simply inexcusable. No argument can possibly alter that fact. +Everyone was waiting about for a considerable time in the supper-room, +desirous of drinking your health, while you, it transpires, were hiding +in a corner with this very questionable foreigner whom Trevor has been +eccentric enough to befriend, but of whom I can discover practically +nothing." + +"But Trevor knows all about him, Aunt Philippa," pleaded Chris. + +"That," said Aunt Philippa, "may or may not be the case. But so long as +you are in my charge, I, and not Trevor, am the one to direct your choice +of acquaintances, and I very strongly object to the inclusion of this +Frenchman in the number. It is my desire, Chris, that you do not see him +again during the rest of the time that you are under my roof. I intend to +speak to Trevor upon the matter at the earliest opportunity. I consider +that, in the face of what has occurred, he would be extremely ill-advised +to retain this unknown foreigner in his employment, though I should +imagine he has already arrived at that conclusion for himself. I could +see that he was seriously displeased by your behaviour last night." + +"Oh, was he?" said Chris blankly. "He didn't say so." + +"He probably realized that it would be useless to express his displeasure +at such a time. But let me warn you, Chris. He is not a man to stand any +trifling. I have heard it from several quarters. Jack, as you are aware, +knows him well, and he will tell you the same. You may try his patience +too far, and that, I presume, is not your intention. Should it happen, I +think that you would regret it all your life." + +"But I haven't trifled! I don't trifle!" protested Chris, divided between +distress and indignation. + +Aunt Philippa smiled unpleasantly--she seldom displayed any other variety +of smile. "That, my dear, is very much a matter of opinion. You had +better go now to Hilda. She is waiting to see your bridesmaid's dress +tried on." + +Chris went, with a worried pucker between her brows. How curious it was +that some people failed so completely to take a reasonable view of +things! They made mountains out of molehills, and expected her to climb +them--she, whose unwary feet were accustomed to trip so lightly along +easy ways. And Trevor too--she caught her breath with a sharp shiver--was +he really seriously displeased with her? He had given no hint of it when +they had danced together, save that he had been somewhat grave and +silent. But then, he was naturally so. She had not thought much of it; +in fact, she had been thinking mainly of Bertie. + +And here a sudden throb of dismay sent the blood to her heart. Aunt +Philippa was going to speak to him upon this subject, was going to +suggest unspeakable things, was going to talk over her conduct with him +and make him furious in earnest. And then it would all come out about her +having met Bertrand all those years ago. Trevor would mention that in the +natural course of things, and then Aunt Philippa would tell him--would +tell him-- + +"Chris, dear, what is the matter? You are as white as a ghost." + +It was Hilda's voice gently recalling her. She came to herself with a +start, and the hot blood rose to her cheeks with a rush. + +"Are you very tired after yesterday?" her cousin asked. "I am afraid you +got up too early." + +"Oh, no!" said Chris. "I wasn't early at all. I didn't ride this morning. +Jack has promised to come for me this evening instead." + +She diverted Hilda's attention desperately. She could not make +confidences in the presence of the dressmaker. Moreover, she was not sure +that she wanted to talk even to Hilda about her pal from Valpré. It was +true Hilda understood most things, but Aunt Philippa had somehow managed +to inspire her with a sense of guilt. She knew she could not speak of +Bertrand with ease to anyone now. + +Besides, there was no time. The moment she was free she must manage +somehow to communicate with Trevor. She must warn him of Aunt Philippa's +intentions. She must explain to him. + +She did not want him to know about that night in the Magic Cave. +Everyone who heard of it was shocked, everyone except Max, and he made +a speciality of never being shocked at anything. Why, it was even +possible--here a new thought leaped up and struck her an unexpected +blow--was it not more than possible that it was this self-same event that +had given rise to the insult that had led to the duel? Of course that +must be it! That was why Bertrand so persistently refused to enlighten +her. How was it she had never before thought of it? It was the truth of +course! How had she failed to see anything so glaringly apparent? + +Yes, it was the truth. She had blundered upon it unawares, and now she +surveyed it horror-stricken, remembering Bertrand's warning that the +knowledge of evil was a poisonous thing. So must Eve have felt when first +her eyes were opened to the wisdom of the gods. + +She was free at last, and sped up to her room. The scribbled message that +reached her _fiancé_ an hour later was only just legible, but it spoke +more eloquently of the state of mind of the writer than she knew. + +"DEAR TREVOR,-- + +"Aunt Philippa says you are angry with me. Please don't be. Really there +is nothing to be angry about, though she thinks there is, and she is +going to try and persuade you to send Bertie away. Trevor, don't listen +to her, will you? And, whatever you do, don't tell her about Valpré. I'm +very bothered about it. Do be as kind as you always are to + +"Your loving +CHRIS." + +Mordaunt's answering note reached her late in the afternoon just before +she set forth for her ride in the Park with Jack. + +"MY DEAR LITTLE CHRIS,-- + +"My love to your Aunt Philippa, and I am just off to Paris for the inside +of a week. I shall be back for your cousin's wedding. Ask her to reserve +her lecture till then. Our friend Bertrand sends his _amitiés_. I send +nothing, for you have it all. + +"Yours, +TREVOR." + +Chris kissed the note with a rush of tenderness--greater than she had +ever managed to bestow upon the writer. That brief response to her appeal +stirred her as she had never been stirred before. It was sweet of him to +trust her so. She would never forget it, never, as long as she lived. + +When Jack appeared to escort her, he noted her radiant face and shining +eyes with approval. + +"Why, you're looking almost pretty for once," he said. "What has happened +to bring it about? It must be a recipe worth having." + +"Don't be absurd!" she retorted, beaming upon him. "Who wants to be +pretty?" + +"It's better to be good certainly," he said. "I know you couldn't be +both. But what's the joke? I think you might let me help laugh." + +"There isn't a joke," she said. "And I'm not laughing. I've had a letter +from Trevor, that's all. And he's going to Paris." + +"Oh-ho!" said Jack. + +"Now you're horrid!" she protested. "I don't want him to go in the +least." + +"Of course not," said Jack. "I've observed how remarkably depressed you +were by the news." + +"I shall be cross with you in a minute," said Chris. + +"Heaven forbid!" said Jack. "When is he coming back?" + +"In time for Hilda's wedding." + +"And does he take the French secretary with him?" + +"Oh, no, he can't go to France. I mean--I mean--" + +Chris stopped in sudden confusion. + +"I know what you mean," said Jack. "They would take too keen an interest +in him over there. Isn't that it?" + +"How did you know?" said Chris. + +He laughed. "The proverbial little bird! I might add that a good many +people know by this time." + +"Oh, Jack, do they?" Chris looked at him in consternation. "He didn't +want anyone to know." + +"My dear child, in that case he should not have courted publicity as the +guest of the evening last night." + +"Jack! He wasn't the guest of the evening! How dare you say such things!" + +Chris's rare displeasure actually was aroused now. Her slight figure +stiffened, and she tapped her knee with her riding-switch. She never +touched her animal with this weapon, whatever his idiosyncrasies, and +certainly the horses she rode generally behaved with docility. + +Jack surveyed her with amused eyes as they turned up under the trees. +"All right," he said imperturbably. "He wasn't. My mistake, no doubt. But +where on earth were you hiding during the supper extras? He was missing +too. Curious, wasn't it?" + +Chris came out of her temper with a winning gesture of appeal. "Jack +dear, don't! I've heard such a lot about it from Aunt Philippa already. +And why shouldn't I talk to my pals? You wouldn't like it if I didn't +talk to you sometimes." + +"Is he that sort of pal?" asked Jack. + +She nodded. "Just that sort. And Trevor knows all about it and +understands. I've just had a line from him to tell me so." + +"Have you, though?" said Jack. "Then all I can say is Trevor is a +brick--a very special kind of brick--and I hope you realize it." + +"He's just the sweetest man in the world," said Chris with enthusiasm. +"He is never horrid about things, and he never thinks what isn't." + +"Lucky for you!" said Jack. + +"Why?" She turned towards him sharply. + +He began to smile. "Because, my dear, you have rather an unfortunate +knack of making things appear--as they are not." + +"I don't know what you mean," she protested. "It's very horrid of people +to imagine things, and it certainly isn't my fault. Trevor understands +that. He always understands." + +"Let us hope he always will," said Jack. + +"He would trust me even if he didn't," said Chris. + +"At the same time," said Jack, "I shouldn't try his faith too far if I +were you. If you ever overstepped it, I have a notion that it might +be--well, somewhat unpleasant for you." + +He spoke the words with a smile, but the silence with which they were +received had in it something that was tragic. Chris was gazing straight +before her as they rode. Her expression was curiously stony, as if, by +some means, her customary animation had been suspended. Jack wondered a +little. After a moment she spoke, without looking round. "Jack!" + +"Your humble servant!" said Jack. + +"I'm not laughing," she said. "I want you to tell me something. You know +Trevor. You knew him years before I did. Have you ever seen him--really +angry?" + +"Great Jove! yes," said Jack. + +"Many times?" There was a little quiver in her voice, but it did not +sound exactly agitated. + +"No, not many times. He isn't the sort of fellow to let himself go, you +know," said Jack. + +"No," she said. "But what is he like--when he is angry?" + +Jack considered. "He's rather like a devil that's been packed in ice for +a very long time. He doesn't expand, he contracts. He emits a species of +condensed fury that has a disastrous effect upon the object thereof. He +is about the last man in the world that I should choose to quarrel with." + +"But why?" she said. "Would you be afraid of him?" + +Jack considered this point too quite gravely and impartially. "I really +don't know, Chris," he said at last. "I believe I should be." + +"He can be terrible, then," she said, as if stating a conclusion rather +than asking a question. + +"More or less," Jack admitted. "But he is never unreasonable. I have +never seen him angry without good cause." + +"And then--I suppose he is merciless?" + +"Quite," said Jack. "I saw him shoot a Kaffir once for knocking a wounded +man on the head. It was no more than the brute deserved. I was lying +wounded myself, and he took my revolver to do it with. But it was a nasty +jolt for the Kaffir. He knew exactly what was going to happen to him and +why, before it happened. Afterwards, when Trevor came back to me, he was +smiling, so I suppose it did him good. He's a very deliberate chap. Some +people call him cold-blooded. He never acts on impulse. And I've never +known him make a mistake." + +"I see." Chris swallowed once or twice as if she felt an obstruction +in her throat. "I expect he would be like that with anyone," she said. +"I mean if he had reason to be angry with anyone, he wouldn't spare +them--whatever they were. I always felt he was like that." + +"He's one of the best chaps in the world," said Jack warmly. + +She assented, but not with the enthusiasm that had marked her earlier +eulogy. She seemed, in fact, to have become a little _distrait_, and +Jack, remarking the fact, suggested a canter. + +They met several people whom they knew before they turned homewards, and +it was not until they were leaving the Park that any further conversation +was possible. + +Then very suddenly Chris reined in and spoke. "Jack, before we go back, I +want to ask you something." + +"Well?" said Jack. + +She made a pathetic little gesture towards him, and touched his knee +with her riding-switch. Her blue eyes besought him very earnestly. "Jack, +we--we are pals, aren't we? Or I couldn't possibly ask it of you. Jack, +I--I've been foolish--and extravagant. And--" she became suddenly +breathless--"I want twenty pounds--to pay some debts. Jack, could +you--would you--" + +"You monkey!" said Jack. + +"I couldn't help it," she declared piteously. "I've spent a frightful lot +of money lately. I don't know how it goes. It runs away like water. But +I--want to get out of debt, Jack. If you will help me just this once, +I'll pay you back when--when--when I'm married." + +"Good heavens, child!" he said. "You shall have it twice over if you +like. But why on earth didn't you tell me before? Don't you know it's +very naughty to run up debts?" + +She nodded. "Yes, I know. But I couldn't help it. There were things I +wanted. And London is such an expensive place. You do understand, dear +Jack, don't you?" + +Jack thought he did. He was, moreover, too fond of his young cousin to +treat her with severity. But he considered it his duty to deliver a brief +lecture on the dangers of insolvency, to which Chris listened with +becoming docility, thanking him with a quick, sweet smile when he had +done. + +Jack did not flatter himself that he had succeeded in making a very deep +impression. He wondered a little what Trevor Mordaunt would have said +under similar circumstances. + +"I hope she will be straightforward with him," was his reflection. "But +she is a Wyndham of the Wyndhams, and everyone knows that her father +didn't suffer over-much from that complaint." + +Which was true. Chris's father had been one of those baffling persons who +are always in want of money and yet seem quite incapable of giving a +clear account of their wants. His affairs had been in a perpetual muddle +from the beginning of his career, and had probably ended so. + +"Most unsatisfactory!" as Aunt Philippa invariably remarked, as a +suitable conclusion to any discussion on the subject of her brother or +any of his family. How she personally had managed to escape the general +blight that rested upon them was a mystery that no one--not Aunt Philippa +herself--had ever been able to solve. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MISGIVINGS + + +Hilda Forest's wedding was one of the events of the season. All London +went to it. Lord Percy Davenant, the bridegroom, was a man of many +friends, and the bride's mother prided herself upon the width of her own +social circle. + +In the midst of the fuss and tumult the bride, very grave and serene, +with shining eyes, went her appointed way. Everyone was loud in her +praise. Her bearing was admirable. She was as one on whom a veil of +happiness had fallen, and external things scarcely touched her. + +She went through her part steadfastly and well, forgetful utterly of the +watching crowds, conscious only of one being in all that critical +multitude, holding only one thought in the silent sanctuary of her soul. + +And Chris, the chief bridesmaid, walking alone behind her, watched and +marvelled. She liked Lord Percy Davenant. He was big, good-natured, +rollicking, and many a joke had they had together. But no faintest tinge +of romance hung about him in her opinion. She could not with the utmost +effort of the imagination see what there was in him to bring that light +into Hilda's eyes. + +It was odd, thought Chris, very odd. If it had been Trevor, now--She +could quite easily have understood it if Hilda had fallen in love with +him. And they would have been eminently well suited to one another, too. +Yes, it was very strange, quite unaccountable! Here she remembered that +Trevor was probably somewhere in the crowd behind her, and peeped over +her shoulder surreptitiously to get a glimpse of him. + +She was not successful, but she caught the eye of one of the bridesmaids +immediately behind her, who leaned forward with a merry smile to whisper, +"Your turn next!" + +Chris turned back sharply. The words had a curious effect upon her; they +gave her almost a sensation of shock. Her turn next to face this ordeal +through which Hilda was passing with such supreme confidence! Would she +feel as Hilda felt when she came to stand with Trevor before the altar? +Would that thrill of deep sincerity be in her voice also as she repeated +the vows irrevocable which were even now leaving Hilda's lips? Would her +eyes meet his with the same pure gladness of love made perfect? + +A sudden tremor went through her. She shivered from head to foot. The +scent of the flowers she held--Hilda's flowers and her own--seemed to +turn her sick. She felt overpowered--lost! + +Desperately she clutched her wavering self-control. This ghastly, +unspeakable doubt must not conquer her. No one must know it--no one must +see! + +But she was as one slipping down a steep incline, faster and faster every +second. The beating of her heart rose up and deafened her. It was like +someone beating a tattoo in the church. She could not hear another word +of the service. And she was suffocating with the nauseous sweetness of +the bridal flowers. Wildly she looked around her. Where was Trevor? He +would help her. He would understand--he always understood. But she sought +him in vain. There was only the long line of bridesmaids behind her and +a sea of indistinct faces on each side. + +She lifted her head and gasped. She felt as if she were being smothered +in flowers. Their heavy perfume stifled her. She understood now why some +people wouldn't have flowers at their funerals. She had always thought it +odd before. + +She was slipping more and more rapidly down that fatal slope. The +sunlight that lay in a great bar of vivid colours across the church +danced before her eyes. She no longer saw the bridal couple in front of +her. They had faded quite away, and in their stead was a terrible abyss +of flowers--bridal flowers that made her sick and faint. + +She swayed as she stood. Who was that speaking? Certain solemn words had +pierced her reeling brain. She heard them as if they came from another +world-- + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." + +Those words would be uttered over her next. Perhaps they were meant +for her even now. Surely it was her own wedding and not Hilda's, +after all! She was being married, and she wasn't ready! Oh, it was +horrible--horrible! And where was Trevor, or Bertie, or someone--anyone— +to hold her back from that dreadful, scented darkness? + +Ah! An arm supporting her! A steady hand that took the flowers away! +Trevor at last! She turned and clung to him weakly, crying like a +frightened child. Her knees would not support her any longer, they +doubled under her weight. But he lifted her without effort, almost as if +she had been a child indeed, and carried her away. + +He bore her to an open door that led out from the vestry, and there in +the fresh air Chris revived. He set her on her feet, and made her lean +against him. Jack hovered in the background, but he dismissed him. + +"She is all right again. Go and tell your mother. It was an atmosphere to +asphyxiate an ox." + +Chris laughed very shakily. "I'm so sorry, Trevor. Did I make a scene?" + +She would have withdrawn from his support, but he kept his arm about her. +"No, dear. I chanced to be looking at you, and I saw you were going to +faint. I am glad I was able to get you away in time." + +"I couldn't help it," she said, not looking at him. "It was--it was--the +flowers." + +"I know," he said gently. + +She leaned her head against him. It was throbbing painfully. "Oh, +Trevor--it wasn't--only--the flowers," she whispered. + +He put his hand over her aching temples. "Tell me presently, dear," he +said. + +She reached up and found the hand, drew it down over her face, and held +it so for seconds, speaking no word. She touched it softly with her lips +at last, and let it go. + +"I'm well now," she said. "Take me back." + +He looked at her searchingly. "You are sure?" + +She smiled at him, though her eyes were still heavy. "Yes, I'll be quite +good. I mustn't spoil Hilda's wedding by being silly, must I? You haven't +brought Bertie, I suppose?" + +He smiled a little. "He didn't get an invitation." + +"Of course not. Trevor, you didn't think I was--flirting with him that +night?" + +"My dear child--no!" + +"Because I never flirt," said Chris very earnestly. "It's a horrid thing +to do. You'll never think that of me, will you? Or that I have ever +trifled with you--or anyone?" + +Trevor's eyes rested upon her with grave kindness. "My dear, why should I +think these things of you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "I don't know. Lots of people do. But you are +different. I think you understand. You'll stay after it's over and have a +talk, won't you?" + +"Yes," he said. + +She slipped her hand into his. "Now let's go back." + +They went back. The ceremony was very nearly over. Chris took her place +again, and followed the bride into the vestry afterwards. + +Later, at the crowded reception, she was among the merriest, and very few +noticed that she was paler than usual or that her eyes were deeply +shadowed. + +The wedded pair left early, and immediately afterwards the guests began +to disperse. Mordaunt, who had been making himself generally useful, +looked round for Chris as soon as a leisure moment arrived. But he looked +in vain; she was not to be found. + +He went through every room in search of her, but all to no purpose. For a +while he lingered, waiting for her, talking to the few people who +remained. But at length, as there was still no sign of her, he prepared +to take his departure also, with the intention of presenting himself +again later. + +He was actually on the doorstep when Jack came striding after him. "I +say, Chris wants you. I forgot to mention it. Make my apologies, for +Heaven's sake! She must have been waiting an hour or more." + +"What?" Mordaunt turned back sharply, frowning. + +"Don't scowl, there's a dear chap," said Jack. "I'm awfully sorry. I had +such a shoal of things to see to. She's upstairs, right at the top of the +house, first door you come to. She said you were to go up and have tea +with her and Cinders. Really, I'm horribly sorry." + +"All right. So you ought to be," Mordaunt said, and left him to his +regrets. + +He was somewhat breathless when he arrived outside the door of Chris's +little sanctum, but he did not pause on that account. He knocked with his +hand already upon the handle, and almost immediately turned it. + +"I can come in?" he asked. + +A muffled bark from Cinders was the only answer--a warning bark, as +though he would have the intruder tread softly. + +Mordaunt trod softly in consequence, softly entered, softly closed the +door. + +He found his little _fiancée_ crouched on the floor beside an ancient +sofa, her arms resting upon it and her head sunk upon them. Cinders, very +alert, bristling with importance, mounted guard on the sofa itself. + +For Chris was asleep, curled up in her bridesmaid finery, a study in +white and blue, with a single splash of vivid red-gold where the sunlight +touched her hair. + +Cinders growled below his breath as Mordaunt approached. He also wagged +his tail, though without effusion. The visitor was welcome so far as he +was concerned, but he must make no disturbance. A canny little beast was +Cinders. + +And so, noiselessly, Mordaunt drew near, and bent above the child upon +the floor. He saw that she had been crying. Even in repose her face +looked wan, and there was a soaked morsel of lace that had evidently been +quite inadequate for the occasion crumpled up in one hand. + +What was the trouble? he wondered, and wished with all his heart that +Cinders could impart it. He had no doubt that Cinders knew. + +It seemed almost cruel to awake her, but neither could he bring himself +to leave her as she was. He looked to Cinders for inspiration. And +Cinders, with a flash of intelligence that proved him more than beast, if +less than human, lowered his queer little muzzle and licked his +mistress's face. + +That roused her. She stretched out her arms with a vague, sleepy murmur, +smiled, opened her eyes. + +"Oh, Trevor!" she said. "You!" + +He stooped over her. "Chris, is anything the matter?" + +She looked at him. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I forget." + +"Poor child!" he said. "It's a shame to make you remember. But I'm afraid +it is inevitable. Won't you lie on the sofa? You will find it more +comfortable." + +"No," said Chris. "I like the floor the best. You can sit on the sofa, if +Cinders doesn't mind. Has everyone gone, downstairs? Hasn't it been a +dreadful day?" She leaned her head against his knee with a sigh of +weariness. "I do think getting married is a dreadful business," she said. + +His hand was on her hair, the beautiful, burnished hair that Mademoiselle +Gautier had deemed one of her most dangerous possessions. He did not try +to see her face, and perhaps for that very reason Chris leaned against +him with complete confidence. + +"So you don't want to be married?" he said, after a moment. + +"No, I don't!" she said, with vehemence. "I think marriage is +dreadful--dreadful, when you come to look at it close." She moved her +head under his hand; for an instant her face was raised. "Trevor, you +don't mind my saying it, do you?" + +"I want you to say exactly what is in your mind," he made grave reply. + +"I knew you would." She nestled down again, and pulled his hand +over her shoulder, holding it against her cheek. "I know I'm very +unorthodox," she said. "Perhaps I'm wicked as well. I can't help it. +I think marriage--except for good people like Hilda--is a mistake. +It's so terribly cold-blooded and--and irrevocable." + +She spoke the last words almost in a whisper. She was holding his hand +very tightly. + +He sat very still, and she wondered if he were shocked by her views, but +she could not bring herself to ascertain. She went on quickly, with a +touch of recklessness-- + +"It's only the good people like Hilda who can be quite sure they will +never change their minds. In fact, I'm beginning to think that it's only +the good people who never do. Trevor, what should you do if--if you were +married to me, and then you--changed your mind?" + +"I can't imagine the impossible, Chris," he said. + +She moved restlessly. "Would it be quite impossible?" + +"Quite." + +"Even if you found out that I was--quite worthless?" + +"That also is impossible," he said gravely. + +She was silent for a space, then, "And what if I--changed mine?" she +said, her voice very low. + +"Have you changed your mind?" he asked. + +She shrank at the question, quietly though it was uttered. + +His hand closed very steadily upon hers. "Don't be afraid to tell me," he +said. "I want the truth, you know, whatever it is." + +"I know," she said, and suddenly she began to sob drearily, hopelessly, +with her head against his knee. + +He bent lower over her; he lifted her till he held her in his arms, +pressed close against his heart. + +"Yes, hold me!" she whispered, through her tears. "Hold me tight, Trevor! +Don't let me go! I don't feel so--so frightened when you are holding me." + +"Tell me what has frightened you," he said. + +"I can't," she whispered back. "I'm just--foolish, that's all. And, +Trevor, I can't--I can't--be married as Hilda was to-day. I can't face +it--all the people and the grandeur and the flowers. You won't make me, +Trevor?" + +"My darling, no!" he said. + +"It frightened me so," she said forlornly. "It seemed like being caught +in a trap. One felt as if the guests and the flowers were meant to hide +it all, but they didn't--they made it worse. I don't think Hilda felt +like that, but then Hilda is so good, she wouldn't. Oh, Trevor dear, I +wish--I wish we could go to Kellerton and live there without being +married at all." + +The words came muffled from his shoulder; she was clinging to him almost +convulsively. + +"But we can't, Chris," he said, his quiet voice coming through her +agitation with a patience so immense that it seemed to dwarf even her +distress. "At least, dear, you can go and live there if you wish, but I +can't. Perhaps I am not indispensable." + +"No, no!" she said quickly, as though the suggestion hurt her. "I want +you." + +"Then I am afraid you will have to marry me," he said. "We won't have a +big wedding. It shall be as private as you like. I suppose you will want +your brothers to be there." + +"Why can't we run away together and get married all by ourselves?" +suggested Chris. She raised her head and regarded him with sudden +animation. "Wouldn't it be fun?" she said. "You could come for me in the +motor, and we could fly off to some out-of-the-way village and be married +before anyone knew anything about it. There would be no one to gloat over +us and make silly jokes, no horrid show at all. Trevor," her face flashed +into gaiety once more, "I'll go with you to-morrow!" + +He smiled at her eagerness. "If I were to agree to that, you would run +away in the night." + +"Run away from you!" said Chris. She wound her arm swiftly about his +neck. "As if I should!" she said reproachfully. + +He looked at her, baffled in spite of his determination to understand. +"You wouldn't want to do that, then?" he said. + +She nestled to him with a gesture most winning. "Never, never, unless--" + +"Unless--?" he repeated. + +"Unless--for any reason--you were angry with me," she murmured, with her +face hidden again. + +He folded his arms more closely about her. "My little Chris, never be +afraid of that," he said. + +"Oh, but you might be," she protested. + +"Never, Chris." He spoke gravely, with absolute conviction. + +She turned her lips quickly to his. "Then let's run away together, shall +we?" + +He kissed her with great tenderness before he answered. "No, dear, no. It +can't be done. What would your aunt say to it?" + +"Surely if I don't mind that, you needn't!" she said. + +But he shook his head. "I won't let you be pestered with preparations. We +will keep it a secret from everyone outside. But I think we must let your +Aunt Philippa into it. I think you owe her that." + +"P'raps," admitted Chris, without enthusiasm. "But she is sure to want a +big show, Trevor." + +"Leave that to me," he said. "I promise you shall not have that. We will +get it done early, and we will be at Kellerton for luncheon." + +Her eyes shone. "How lovely! And the boys, too--and Bertie?" + +He surveyed the eager face for a few seconds in silence. Then, "Chris," +he said, "would it mean a very great sacrifice to you if I asked for the +first fortnight with you alone?" + +He was watching her closely, watching for the faintest suggestion of +disappointment or hesitancy in the clear eyes, but he detected neither. +Chris beamed upon him tranquilly. + +"Why, I should love it! There's no end of things I want to show you. +And we can make it all snug before Bertie and the boys come. But, of +course"--she became suddenly serious--"I must have Cinders with me." + +"Oh, we won't exclude Cinders," he said. + +She laughed--the gay, sweet laugh he loved to hear. "That's settled, +then. And you'll make Aunt Philippa promise not to tell, for of course +that would spoil everything. Oh, and Trevor, you won't discuss Bertrand +with her? Promise!" + +He looked at her keenly for a moment, met only the coaxing confidence of +her eyes, and decided to ask no question. + +"My dear," he said, "as far as Bertrand is concerned, your Aunt Philippa +and I have nothing to discuss." + +"That's all right," said Chris, with relief. "Trevor, you've done me a +lot of good. You are quite the most comforting man I know. I'm not +frightened any more, and I'll never be such a little idiot again as long +as I live." + +She rose with the words, stood a moment with her hand on his shoulder, +then stooped and shyly kissed his forehead. + +"You always understand," she said. "And I love you for it. There!" + +"I am glad, dear," he said gently. + +But he did not look particularly elated notwithstanding. There had been +moments in their recent conversation when, so far from understanding her, +he had felt utterly and completely at a loss. He had not the heart to +tell her so, for he knew that she was quite incapable of explaining +herself; but the fact remained. And he wondered with a vague misgiving if +he had yet succeeded--if, indeed, he ever would wholly succeed--in +finding his way along the many intricate windings that led to her inmost +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MARRIED + + +It was certainly the quietest wedding of the season. People said that +this was due to the bridegroom's well-known dislike of publicity; but, +whatever the reason, the secret was well kept, and when Chris came out of +the church on her husband's arm there was only Bertrand, standing +uncovered by the carriage-door, to give her greeting. + +She was smiling as she came, but it was rather a piteous smile. She had +faced the ordeal with a desperate courage, but she had not found it easy. +Only Trevor's steadfast strength had held her up. She had been conscious +of his will acting upon hers throughout. With the utmost calmness he had +quelled her agitation, had stilled the wild flutter of her nerves, had +compelled her to a measure of composure. And now that it was over she +felt that he was still in a fashion holding her back, controlling her, +till she should have recovered her normal state of mind and be in a +condition to control herself. + +But the sight of Bertrand diverted her thoughts. Owing to her aunt's +strenuous prohibition, she had not met him since the night of her +birthday dance. She broke from Mordaunt to give him both her hands. + +"Oh, Bertie," she cried, between tears and laughter, "it is good to see +you again!" + +He bent very low, so low that she only saw the top of his black head. +"Permit me to offer my felicitations," he said, in a voice that was +scarcely audible. + +Her hands closed tightly for a second upon his. "You are pleased, +Bertie?" she said, with a quickening of the breath. + +He straightened himself instantly; he looked into her eyes. "But you are +happy, yes?" he questioned. + +"Of course," she told him hurriedly. + +He smiled--the ready smile with which he had learned to mask his soul. +"_Alors_, I am pleased," he said. + +He helped her into the carriage, and turned, still smiling, to the man +behind her. Yet he flinched ever so slightly from the grip of Mordaunt's +hand. It was the merest gesture, scarcely perceptible; in a moment he had +covered it with the quick courtesy of his race. But Mordaunt was aware of +it, and for a single instant he wondered. + +He took his place beside his bride, who tucked her hand inside his arm, +with a little sob of sheer relief. + +"Did I sound very squeaky, Trevor? I tried not to squeak." + +He forgot Bertrand and everyone else but the trembling girl by his side. +He laid a soothing hand on hers. + +"My dear, you did splendidly. It wasn't so very terrifying, was it?" + +"It was appalling," said Chris. "I kept saying to myself, 'Just a little +longer and then that lovely new motor--my motor--and home.' You are going +to give me my first lesson in driving to-day, aren't you? Say yes!" + +He said "Yes," feeling that he was bestowing a reward for good behaviour. + +She squeezed his arm. "And isn't it nice," she whispered, with shining +eyes, "to feel that we are really going to stay there when we get there?" + +He pressed the small, confiding hand. "You are glad, then, Chris?" he +said. + +"Oh, my dear, I should think I am!" she made answer. "I've been counting +the days to the one when I shan't have to peck Aunt Philippa good-night. +She never kisses properly and she won't let me. She says it's childish +and unrestrained." She laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder. +"I've had no one to hug for ever so long--except Cinders," she said. + +"Hasn't Cinders been enough?" he asked, with a hint of surprise. + +She turned her face upwards quickly. "Trevor, you're not to laugh at me! +It isn't fair." + +He smiled a little. "I am not laughing, Chris, I assure you. I have +always thought until this moment that Cinders was more precious to you +than anyone else in the world." + +"Oh, that's because you're a man," said Chris inconsequently. "Men always +have absurd theories about women and the things they care for. As if we +can't love heaps of people at the same time!" + +"You can only love one person best," he pointed out. + +"At a time," supplemented Chris, with a merry smile. "And you choose your +person according to your mood. At least, I do. Oh, Trevor," with a sudden +change of tone, "don't look! There's a hearse!" + +She hid her face against him, and he felt a violent tremor go through +her. He put his arm about her and held her close. + +"My darling, what makes you so superstitious?" + +"I'm not," she murmured shakily. "It isn't superstitious to believe in +death, is it? It's a fact one can't get away from. And it frightens +me--it frightens me! Think of it, Trevor! We only belong to each other +till death us do part. Afterwards--who knows?--we may be in different +worlds." + +He pressed her closer, feeling her cling to him. "There is a greater +thing than death, Chris," he said. + +"I know! I know!" she whispered back. "But--I sometimes think--I'm not +big enough for it. I sometimes wonder--if God gave me a heart at all." + +"My little Chris!" he said. "My darling!" + +She lifted a troubled face. The tears were in her eyes. "Don't you often +think me silly and fickle?" she said. "And you'll find it more and more +the more you see of me. You'll be disappointed in me--you'll be horribly +disappointed--some day." + +He looked down at her with great tenderness. "That day will never come, +dear," he said. "If it did, I should blame myself much more than I blamed +you. Come! You mustn't cry on our wedding-day. You're not really +unhappy?" + +"But I'm afraid," she said. + +He dried her eyes and kissed her. "There is nothing to make you afraid," +he said. "Haven't I sworn to love and cherish you?" + +She nestled to him with a sigh. "It was very nice of you, Trevor," she +said. + +Her spirits revived during her motor-ride to Kellerton. The renovations +there were in full swing. One portion of the house had been already made +habitable for them. Mordaunt had had the entire management of this, but, +as Chris gaily remarked, she would probably change everything round when +she came upon the scene. + +"I feel as if the holidays have just begun," she said to him as they sped +over the dusty road. "And I'm going to work harder than I have ever +worked in my life." + +"If I let you," he said. + +At which remark she made a face, and then, repenting patted his knee. +"You will let me do what I like, I know. You always do." + +"In moderation," said Trevor, with a smile. + +She dismissed the matter as too trivial for discussion. "When are you +going to let me drive?" + +He gave her her first lesson then and there, an experience which +delighted Chris so much that she refused to relinquish the wheel until +they stopped at a country town for luncheon. + +Here her whole attention was occupied in keeping Cinders from chasing the +hotel cat, till Trevor caught and cuffed the miscreant, when her anxiety +turned to indignation on her darling's behalf, and she snatched him away +and kept him sheltered in her arms for the rest of their sojourn. + +"I never punish Cinders," she said. "He's hardly ever naughty, and if he +is he's always sorry afterwards." + +Cinders, whose temper was ruffled, glared at Mordaunt and cursed him in +an undertone throughout the meal, notwithstanding the choice morsels with +which his young mistress sought to propitiate him. + +"I do hope you haven't made him dislike you," she said, when at length +they returned to the car. "He is rather tiresome with people he doesn't +like." + +"If he doesn't behave himself, we will send him to Bertrand to take care +of," Mordaunt rejoined. + +"Indeed we won't!" Chris declared, with warmth. "He has never been away +from me day or night since I first had him." + +At which declaration Mordaunt raised his eyebrows, and said no more. + +He had always known Cinders for a dog of character, but not till that day +had he credited him with the remarkable intuition by which he seemed to +know--and resent--the fact that his mistress was no longer his exclusive +property. It may have been that Chris herself imparted something of the +new state of affairs to him by the very zeal of her guardianship. But +undoubtedly, whatever its source, the knowledge had dawned in Cinders' +brain and with it a fierce jealousy which he had never displayed in +Mordaunt's presence before. + +It was an afternoon of unclouded sunshine. Chris lay back in her seat, +somewhat wearied but quite content, watching the cornfields with their +red wealth of poppies, watching the long, white road before them, and now +and then the unerring hands that held the wheel. + +When at length they neared Kellerton she roused herself and became more +animated. "It's been a lovely ride, Trevor. Let's go for one every day. +Sometimes we might go down to the sea--it's only ten miles. But we will +wait till Bertie comes for that. Ah, there is the lodge! How smart it +looks! And they have actually taken the thistles out of the drive! I +shouldn't have known it." + +She sat up with eager delight in her eyes. The lodge-gates were open; +they ran smoothly in without a pause and on up the long avenue to the old +grey house. + +Chris was enchanted. It was such a home-coming as she had never pictured. + +"It's like a dream," she said. "I can't believe it's true. Everything +looks so different. The garden was an absolute wilderness the last time +we were here." + +It had been turned into a paradise since then, and every second brought +fresh discoveries to her ecstatic gaze. + +"I didn't know it could be so lovely," she declared. "And you've done it +all in a few weeks. Trevor, you're a magician!" + +He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Oh, it isn't all my doing. I have only been +down twice since the day you were here. I put it into capable hands, +that's all. Nothing has been altered, only set to rights." + +"It's lovely!" cried Chris. + +Tired and thirsty though she was, she could hardly wait to have tea on +the terrace before the house before she was off along the dear, familiar +paths to her favourite nook under a great yew-tree whose branches swept +the ground. A rustic seat surrounded the ancient trunk. + +"This is my castle," said Chris. "This is where I hide when I don't want +anyone to find me." + +She stretched back a hand to her husband, and led him into her shadowy +domain. + +"The boys used to call it Hades," she said, in a hushed voice. "And I +used to pretend I was Persephone. I did so wish Pluto would appear some +day with his chariot and his black horses and take me underground. But," +with a sigh, "he never did." + +"Let us hope you have been reserved for a happier fate," Mordaunt said, +with his arm about her. + +She flashed him her quick smile. "You instead of Pluto! But I always +thought he was rather fascinating, and I longed to see the underworld." + +"I think the sunshine suits you best," he said. + +"Oh yes, but just to see--just to know what it's like! I do so love +exploring," insisted Chris. + +He smiled and drew her out of her gloomy retreat. "Sometimes it's better +not to know too much," he said. + +"But one couldn't," she protested. "All knowledge is gain." + +"Of a sort," he said. "But it is not always to be desired on that +account." + +A sudden memory went through Chris. She gave a sharp shudder. "Oh no!" +she said. "One doesn't want to know horrid things! I forgot that." + +He looked at her interrogatively, but she turned her face away. "Let's go +back to the house. I wonder where Cinders is." + +They returned to the house, and again Chris was lost in delight. A great +deal yet remained to be done, but the completed portion was all that +could be desired. They had chosen much of the furniture together, and she +spent most of the evening in arranging it, with her husband's assistance, +to her satisfaction. + +But when at length the hour for dinner arrived he would not suffer her to +do anything further. + +"I believe you have done too much as it is," he said, "and after dinner I +shall have something to show you." + +She yielded readily enough. She certainly was tired. "I feel as if to-day +had lasted for about six weeks," she said. + +But her animation did not wane in spite of this, and she would even have +returned to her labours after they had dined had Mordaunt permitted it. +He was firm upon this point, however, and again without protest she +yielded. + +"You were going to show me something. What was it?" + +"To be sure," he said. "I was going to show you how to write a cheque. +Come over to the writing-table and see how it is done." + +Chris went, looking mystified. "But I shall never write cheques, Trevor," +she said. + +"No? Why not?" + +He drew up a chair for her and knelt down beside her. + +"You are a woman of property now, Chris," he said, and laid a new +cheque-book on the pad in front of her. + +Chris gazed at it, wide-eyed. "But, Trevor, I haven't got any money at +the bank, have I?" + +"Plenty," he said, with a smile--"in fact, a very large sum indeed which +will have to be invested in your name. That we will go into another day, +but for present needs, if you are wanting money--" + +"Yes?" said Chris eagerly. + +He put a pen into her hand and opened the cheque-book. + +She slipped her arm round his neck. "Trevor, I--I don't feel as if you +ought. I--of course I--knew you would make me an allowance, but--but--you +ought not to give me a lot of money all my own." + +"My darling," he said gently, "don't forget that you are my wife, will +you?" + +She smiled a little shyly. "Do you know--I had forgotten--quite!" + +He put his arm about her as she sat. "You must try to remember it, dear, +because it's rather important. I know I might have made you an allowance, +but I prefer that you should be independent. Only, Chris, I am going to +ask a promise of you; and I want you to make it at the very beginning of +our life together. That is why I have spoken on our wedding-night." + +"Yes?" whispered Chris. + +She had begun to tremble a little, and he pressed her to him +reassuringly. "I want you to promise me that you will never run into +debt, that if for any cause you find that you have not enough of your own +you will come to me at once and tell me." + +He spoke with grave kindness, watching her face the while. But Chris's +eyes did not meet his own. She was rolling the pen he had given her up +and down the blotting-pad with much absorption. + +"Is it a promise, Chris?" he asked at length. + +She threw him a nervous glance and nodded. + +He laid his hand upon hers and held it still. "Chris, have you any debts +now?" + +She was silent. + +"My dear," he said, "don't be afraid of me!" + +There was that in his voice that moved her to the depths; she could not +have said why. Impulsively, almost passionately, she went into his arms. + +"I won't!" she said. "I won't! Trevor, I--I've been a little beast! That +money you gave me on my birthday I didn't do--what you meant me to do +with it. I just--spent it. I don't know how. And then--when you asked +about it that night--I didn't dare to tell you, and I haven't dared +since. I just let you think it was all right--when it wasn't. Oh, Trevor, +don't be angry--don't be angry!" + +"I am not angry," he said. + +"Not really? But how you must despise me! It's just the way of the +Wyndhams. We all do it. Trevor, why did you make me tell you?" + +"My dear child," he said, "you must tell me these things. It is your only +possibility of happiness, and mine also. Chris, never keep anything from +me, for Heaven's sake! Don't you know that I trust you?" + +"I don't deserve it!" sobbed Chris, clinging faster. "You don't know how +bad I am!" + +"Hush!" he said, with a restraining hand upon her head. "You have told me +everything now?" + +"Oh no, I haven't!" she whispered. "There are crowds of things I couldn't +even begin to tell you. I have always warned you how it would be. I +always said--" + +Her agitation was increasing, and her words became inaudible. He saw that +her nerves had given way under the long day's strain, and firmly, with +infinite gentleness, he put a stop to further discussion of a subject +that threatened to upset her seriously. + +"Never mind," he said. "You will tell me by and bye, or if you don't I +shall know it is all right. Chris, Chris, you mustn't get hysterical. You +are worn out, dear, and it has upset your sense of proportion. Come, I am +going to send you to bed. We will go into these money matters in the +morning." + +But Chris vehemently negatived this. "I don't want to--to spoil +to-morrow. I--I shouldn't sleep for thinking of it. Oh, Trevor, let's +settle it now. I'm going to be sensible--really. And--and--if you'll +forgive me for all the bad things I've done up to to-day I--I will really +try to tell you everything as it happens from now on. Will you, Trevor?" + +She raised pleading, pathetic eyes, still wet with tears. He could feel +her still quivering with the emotion she was striving to subdue. She was +too near in that moment to resist--perhaps he would not have resisted her +in any case; for he had it not in his heart to think ill of her. + +"My darling," he said, "we will leave it at that. Only--in the +future--trust me as I am trusting you." + +He turned to the table and closed the cheque-book. "These debts are my +affair. I will settle them. Just tell me what they are." + +"Oh, but they are settled!" she told him. "I promised I would, you know." + +"Then"--he looked at her--"someone lent you the money?" + +Something in his tone made her shrink again. She hesitated. + +"Chris!" he said. + +Nervously she answered him. "Jack lent me forty pounds." + +"Jack!" he said. "You weren't afraid to ask him, then?" + +"Oh no!" she said quickly. "I'm not a bit afraid of Jack." + +"Only of me, Chris!" + +She gave herself back to him with a swift, shy movement. "It's the fear +of vexing you," she said. "I don't mind vexing--other people. It's only +you--only you. Trevor, say you understand!" + +He did not answer her instantly, but the close holding of his arms drove +all misgiving from her soul. He rose to his feet, raising her with him, +pressing her to him faster and ever faster till her arms crept round his +neck again, and she lay, a willing prisoner, against his heart. + +And so holding her, at last he answered her tremulous appeal. "My +darling, never be afraid of vexing me! Never be afraid that I shall not +understand!" + +She could not speak in answer. The wonder of his love for her had +stricken her dumb; it had swept upon her like a wave, towering, immense, +resistless, bearing her far beyond her depth. + +She could only mutely lift her quivering lips; and he, moved to +gentleness by her action, took her face between his hands with infinite +tenderness, gazing down into her eyes with that in his own which cast out +the last of her fear. + +"My little Chris!" he said. "My wife!" + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SUMMER WEATHER + + +"I think quite the worst part of being married is having to pay calls," +said Chris. + +"You do not like it, no?" said Bertrand, with quick sympathy. + +"No," she rejoined emphatically. "And I don't see any sense in it either. +No one ever wants afternoon callers." + +"But that depends upon the caller, does it not?" he said. + +"Not in the least," said Chris. "There's a stodginess about afternoon +calling that affects even the nicest people. It's the most tiresome +institution there is." + +"Then why do it?" he suggested, with a smile. + +She shook her head severely. + +"Don't be immoral, Bertie! You're trying to tempt me from my duty." + +"Never!" he declared earnestly. + +"Oh, but you are; and I am not sure that you are not neglecting your own +as well. What brought you out at this hour?" + +He spread out his hands. "Mr. Mordaunt has ordered me to take a rest +to-day." + +Chris looked up at him sharply. "Aren't you well, Bertie?" + +"But it is nothing," he said. "I have told him. It happens to me +often--often--that I do not sleep. I have explained all that. But what +would you? He is obstinate--he will not listen." + +Chris patted a hammock-chair beside her. "Sit down at once. I knew there +was something the matter directly I saw you this morning. But you always +look horribly tired. Do you never sleep properly?" + +He dropped into the chair and stretched up his arms with a sigh. "It is +only in the morning that I am tired," he said. "It is nothing--a weakness +that passes. Or if it passes not--I go." + +"Go!" repeated Chris, startled. + +He turned his head towards her. "That surprises you, yes? But how can I +remain if I cannot work?" + +"Oh, but you haven't been here a fortnight," she said quickly. "I expect +the change of air has upset you. And it has been so hot too." + +He acquiesced languidly, as if not greatly interested. His dark eyes +watched her gravely. Evidently his thoughts had wandered from himself. + +Chris was not slow to perceive this. "What are you thinking of?" she +demanded. + +"I am thinking of you," he answered promptly. + +"What of me?" The blue eyes met his quite openly. Chris was always frank +to her pals. + +"I was thinking," he said, in his soft, friendly voice, "how you were +happy, and how I was glad." + +She threw him a quick smile. "How nice of you, Bertie! And how +beautifully French! But, you know, I shan't be happy if you talk of +leaving us. It will spoil everything, and I shall be absolutely +miserable." + +"You were not miserable before I joined you, no?" he said, smiling back +at her. + +"Of course I wasn't. But that was quite different. I knew all the while +that you were coming. I should have been if anything had happened to +prevent you." + +"Really?" he said thoughtfully. + +"Yes, really!" Chris was emphatic. "And I am sure there is nothing much +the matter with you, Bertie; now, is there?" + +He scarcely responded. "It will pass," he said. "And so you have arranged +to make visits this afternoon?" + +"Yes. Isn't it a bother?" Chris's brow wrinkled. "Noel wanted me to go +and fish with him, but Trevor says I must go and see Mrs. Pouncefort, so +I suppose I must. I hoped he would come too, but he has got to stay and +interview the architect about that subsidence in the north wing. I wish +you would come instead." + +He shook his head. "No--no! That is not possible. Where does this lady +live?" + +"Sandacre way, towards the sea. Oh, do you know Rupert is coming over on +Sunday with some brother officers? I had a card from him this morning. He +is very fond of Mrs. Pouncefort--they all are. I don't know quite why. I +believe they spend half their time there. Mr. Pouncefort is a dear little +man--no one could help liking him. He has a yacht, and they always have a +crowd of people staying there at this time of the year." + +"_Alors_," he said, "it will amuse you to go there, no?" + +Chris smiled. "Oh, not particularly. I would much rather stay with you +and Trevor. Besides, I've such a lot to do." + +She did not look overwhelmed with work as she leaned back in her +hammock-chair, but she evidently intended to be busy, for a basket and +scissors stood beside her. + +Bertrand was much too courteous to suggest that she was not making the +most of her time. Or perhaps he did not want to be left in solitary +contemplation of that fleeting August morning. He lay silent for a +little, and presently requested permission to smoke a cigarette. + +"Of course," she said at once. "Why don't you go and lie in the hammock? +I will come and rock you to sleep." + +He thanked her, smiling, but declined. + +She watched him light his cigarette with eyes grown thoughtful. Suddenly: +"Bertie," she said, "are you very unhappy nowadays?" + +He made a jerky movement, and dropped the match, still burning. Hastily +he bent to extinguish it, but Chris was before him, her hand upon his +arm, restraining him. + +"No, sit still! It's all right. Tell me, please, Bertie! I want to know." + +He shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, still smiling, but in a fashion +that she was at a loss to interpret. + +"But what a question, _petite_! How can I answer it?" + +"I should have thought---between friends---" she began. + +"_Ah, oui_! We are friends, are we not?" A curious expression of relief +took the place of his smile, and she felt as if for some reason he had +been afraid. "And you ask me if I am unhappy," he said. "_Mais +vraiment_--I know not what to say!" + +"Then you are!" she said, quick pain in her voice. + +He looked down at the little friendly hand that lay upon his arm, but he +did not offer to touch it. His eyes remained downcast as he spoke. "I am +more happy than I ever expected to be, Christine." + +"You like your work?" she questioned. "Trevor is kind to you?" + +"He is--much too kind," the Frenchman answered, with feeling. + +"But still you are unhappy?" she said. + +"It is--my own fault," he told her, still not looking at her. + +She rubbed his sleeve sympathetically. "Bertie, don't you think--if you +tried very hard--you might manage to forget all that old trouble?" + +There was a note of pleading in her voice, and he made a quick gesture as +he heard it, as if in some way it pierced him. + +She went on speaking, as he made no attempt to do so. "You know, Bertie, +you really are quite young still, and there are such a lot of nice things +left. It's such a pity to keep on grieving. Don't you think so? It seems +rather a waste of time. And I do--so--want you to be happy." + +At the quiver in her voice he glanced up sharply, but he instantly +lowered his eyes again. And still he said no word. He only drew his brows +together and bit his cigarette to a pulp. + +Her hand came softly down his arm and lay upon his. + +"Bertie," she said, in a whisper, "you're not--vexed?" + +His hand clenched at her touch, but on the instant he looked up at her +with a smile. "Vexed!" he said. "With you! A thousand times--no!" + +She smiled back, reassured. "Then will you--please--try to forget what +you have lost? I know it won't be easy, but will you try? It's the only +possible way to be happy. And if you are not happy--I shan't be either." + +He took her hand at last with perfect steadiness into his own. "You know +not what I have lost," he said. "But--if I try to forget--that will +content you?" + +She nodded. "Yes, Bertie." + +He looked at her intently for a moment, then, "_Eh Bien_!" he said +briskly. "I will try." + +"_Bon garçon_!" she said, with a merry smile. "That is settled, then. +Why, there is Trevor! Has he finished that article of his already? He +looked quite absorbed when I passed his window half an hour ago." She +waved to him as he approached. "Why don't you wear a hat, you mad +Englishman? Don't you know the sun is broiling?" + +He smiled and ignored the warning. Bertrand sprang from his chair as he +reached them, but Mordaunt instantly pressed him down again. + +"No, no, man! Sit still! I have only come out for a moment." + +"But I am going," Bertrand protested. "I cannot sit and do nothing. There +are those accounts that you have given me to do. They are not yet +finished. Also--" + +"Also, they are not going to be done to-day," Mordaunt said, shaking him +gently by the shoulder. "Chris, I am going to hand this fellow over to +you for the next few days. You can do what you like with him so long as +you don't let him do any work. That I absolutely forbid. You understand +me, Bertrand?" + +"But I cannot--I cannot," Bertrand said restlessly. "You are already much +too good to me. You overwhelm me with kindness, and I--I make no return +at all. No, listen to me--" + +"I'm not going to listen to you," Mordaunt said. "You are talking +nonsense, my friend, arrant drivel--nothing less. Chris will tell you the +same." + +"Of course," said Chris. "Besides, there are crowds of things you can do +for me. No, he shan't be overworked, I promise you, Trevor. But I'm going +to try a new cure. Just for this afternoon he is going to lie in the +hammock and smoke cigarettes. But after to-day"--she nodded gaily at the +perturbed Frenchman--"after to-day, Bertie, _nous verrons_!" + +He smiled in spite of himself, but he continued to look dissatisfied till +Mordaunt carelessly turned the conversation. + +"Where's that young beggar Noel?" + +"Fishing in the Home Meadow," said Chris. + +"Quite sure?" + +"I think so," she said. "Why?" + +"Because he has taken one of my guns, and I believe he is potting +rabbits." + +Chris sat up with consternation in her eyes. "Trevor! I believe he is +too! I heard someone shooting half an hour ago. And he has got Cinders +with him! I know he will go and shoot him by mistake!" + +"Or himself," said Mordaunt grimly. + +"Oh, he won't do that," said Chris with confidence. "Nothing ever happens +to Noel." + +"Something will happen to him before long if he doesn't behave himself," +observed Mordaunt. "My patience began to wear thin last night when I +caught him asleep with a smouldering pipe on his pillow." + +"Oh, but he always does what he likes in the holidays," pleaded Chris. + +"Does he?" Mordaunt's voice was uncompromising. + +She slipped a quick hand into his. "Trevor, you wouldn't spoil his fun?" + +He looked down at her, faintly smiling. "My dear Chris, it depends upon +the fun. I'm not going to have the place burnt down for his amusement." + +"Oh no," she said. "But you won't be strict with him, will you? He will +only do things on the sly if you are." + +Mordaunt frowned abruptly. "If I catch him doing anything underhand--" + +She broke in sharply in evident distress. "But we all do, Trevor! I--I've +done it myself before now--often with Mademoiselle Gautier, and then with +Aunt Philippa. One has to, you know. At least--at least--" His grey eyes +suddenly made her feel cold, and she stopped as impulsively as she had +begun. + +There was a moment's silence, then quite gently he drew his hand away. "I +think I will go and see what mischief the boy is up to." + +She jumped up. "I'll come too." + +He paused, and for a single instant his eyes met Bertrand's. At once the +Frenchman spoke. + +"But, Christine, have you not forgotten your roses? It is growing late, +is it not? And you will be out this afternoon. Permit me to assist you +with them." + +He picked up the basket as he spoke. Chris stopped irresolute. Her +husband was already moving away over the grass. + +"Come!" said Bertrand persuasively. + +Chris turned with a smile and took the basket. "All right, Bertie, let's +go. It is getting late, as you say, and I must get the vases filled." + +They went away together to the rose-garden, and here, after brief +hesitation, Chris voiced her fears. + +"I'm so afraid lest Trevor should ever get really angry with any of the +boys. They won't stand it, you know. And he--I sometimes think he is just +a little hard, don't you?" + +Mordaunt's secretary pondered this proposition with drawn brows. "No," he +said finally, "he is not hard, but he is very honourable." + +Chris laughed aloud. "That sounds just like a French exercise, Bertie. I +don't see what being honourable has to do with it, except that the people +who preen themselves on being honourable are just the ones who can't make +allowances for those who are not. You would think, wouldn't you, that +being good would make people extra kind and forgiving? But it doesn't, +you know. Look at Aunt Philippa!" + +Bertrand's grimace was expressive. "And Aunt Philippa is good, yes?" + +"Frightfully good," said Chris. "I don't suppose she ever told a story in +her life." + +His quick eyes sought hers. "And that--that is to be good?" + +Chris paused an instant, her attention caught by the question. "Why, I +suppose so," she said slowly. "Don't you call that goodness?" + +He spread out his hands. "Me, I think it is the smallest kind of +goodness. One does not lie, one does not steal; but what of that? One +does not roll oneself in the mud. And that is a virtue, that?" + +Chris became keenly interested. "Do go on, Bertie! I had no idea you +thought such a lot. I don't myself--often." + +He laughed, his sudden pleasant laugh that he uttered now so rarely. "But +I am no philosopher," he said. "Simply I think--a little--sometimes. And +to me--to be honourable is no more a virtue than to wash the hands. One +cannot do otherwise and respect oneself." + +"No?" said Chris, a little dubiously. "Then, Bertie, if honour is not +goodness, what is?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Goodness? Bah! There is no goodness without +love." + +"Oh!" Chris's eyes opened wide. "You think--that?" + +He nodded with vehemence. "_Si, chérie_! I think--that; more, I know it. +I know that 'Love is the fulfilling of the law.' One does not need to go +further than that. It is enough, no?" His eyes looked straight into hers; +they were shining with the light that only friendship can kindle. + +She smiled back at him. "I should almost think it is, Bertie. It is +enough for you anyhow, since you believe it." + +"Ah, yes," he said very earnestly. "I believe it, Christine. I should not +be here now--if I did not believe it." + +She puckered her brows a little. "I don't quite know what you mean," she +said. + +He turned from her questioning eyes, pulling his hat down over his own. +"No," he said. "But--you know enough, _ma petite_, you know enough." + +"I sometimes think I don't know anything," she said restlessly. + +He stretched out a hand to her, as one who guides a child. "Ah, +Christine," he said sadly, "but it is better to know the little than the +much." + +"You all say that," said Chris. "I think it is rather a horrid world for +some things, don't you?" + +"But the world is that which we make it," said Bertrand. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ONE OF THE FAMILY + + +"But, my dear chap, what bally rot! Anyone would think I'd never smoked a +pipe or handled a gun before, when I've done both for years." + +Noel Wyndham's smile was the most engaging part of him; it had the knack +of disarming the most wrathful. It had served him many a time in the hour +of retribution, and he never scrupled to make use of it. It was quite his +most valuable asset. + +"Don't be waxy, old chap," he pleaded, slipping an affectionate hand +inside his brother-in-law's unresponsive arm. "I've been having such a +high old time. And I'm not a bloomin' kid. I know what I'm about." + +"All very well," Mordaunt said. "I don't object to anything in reason. +But you are too fond of taking French leave with other people's property. +That gun, for instance--" + +"Oh, that's all right," the boy assured him eagerly. "It kicks most +infernally, but I soon got the trick of it after a bruise or two. I say, +you haven't seen anything of that little devil Cinders? He's gone down a +rabbit-hole. Won't Chris be in a stew?" + +Mordaunt possessed himself of the gun without further argument. "Then +you'd better set to work and find him. Chris is going out this +afternoon." + +"In the motor?" Noel's eyes shone. "I'll go, too. You needn't bother +about Cinders. He always turns up sooner or later. Don't tell Chris, or +she'll spend the rest of the day hunting for him." + +"She will probably want to know," observed Mordaunt. + +"I shall say I never had him," said Noel unconcernedly. "He won't come to +any harm, but you can turn that secretary fellow of yours on to the job +if you're feeling anxious. I say, Trevor, we shan't want the chauffeur. +Tell them, will you?" + +"You certainly won't go without him," Mordaunt rejoined. "And look here, +Noel, you're not to tell lies. Understand?" + +Noel looked up with a flicker of temper in his Irish eyes, "Oh, rats!" he +said. + +"Understand?" Mordaunt repeated. "It's the one thing I won't put up with, +so make up your mind to that." + +He spoke quite temperately, but with unswerving decision. His eyes looked +hard into Noel's, and the boy's spark of resentment went out like an +extinguished match. + +"I say, I like you!" he said with enthusiasm. "You're a regular sport!" + +"Thank you," Mordaunt returned gravely. + +"And what about Chris?" Noel proceeded mischievously. "Isn't she allowed +to tell lies, either?" + +Mordaunt stiffened. "Chris knows better." + +"Oh, does she?" Noel yelled derision. "My dear chap, you'll kill me! Why, +she--she's about the worst of us. I never knew anyone lie quite like +Chris when occasion arises." + +He broke off. Mordaunt had shaken his arm free with an abruptness not far +removed from violence. + +"That's enough," he said sternly. "I don't advise you to say any more +upon that subject." + +"But I assure you it's the truth," Noel protested. "She can look you +straight in the face and swear that black is white till you actually +believe it. I assure you she can." + +He spoke with such naïve admiration of the achievement that Trevor +Mordaunt, on the verge of anger, found himself checked suddenly by an +irrepressible desire to laugh. + +Noel saw and seized upon his advantage. "But I daresay she wouldn't to +you. She gets everything she wants without. I must say you're jolly +decent to all of us. I'm sorry I took your gun--didn't know it was one +you particularly valued. I'd get one of my own only I'm so beastly hard +up. I suppose you couldn't lend me a fiver now, could you?" + +He tucked his hand back into Mordaunt's arm persuasively, and smiled his +winning smile. "I'll pay you back--with interest--when I come of age. +That'll be in five years. I wouldn't ask you if I couldn't. But I daresay +Chris can let me have it if you would rather not." + +"No!" Mordaunt said very decidedly. "There must be no borrowing from +Chris. I will give you five pounds if you are wanting it, but not to buy +a gun with, and only on the understanding that for the future you come to +me--and never to Chris--if you chance to be in difficulties." + +"Oh yes, I'll promise that," said Noel readily. "But I don't want you to +make me a present, old chap. I shall pay up some day. You shall have an +I O U." + +"Many thanks! I don't want one." Mordaunt began to smile. "Just keep +straight and tell the truth," he said. "That's all the return I want." + +"Really?" Noel's smile became a grin. "That's awfully decent of you. As a +matter of fact, I don't believe even Chris could manage to deceive you. +You're so beastly shrewd. But we'll call it a bargain if you like. You +won't catch me trying to jockey you after this." + +"Very well," Mordaunt said. "Then, on the strength of that, I want to +know if you have ever had any money from Chris before." + +"Why, of course I have!" Noel seemed surprised by the question. He spoke +with the utmost frankness. + +"How much?" + +Mordaunt's smile had departed. He did not look altogether pleased, but +Noel was quite unimpressed. + +"Oh, goodness knows!" he said lightly. "She has my I O U's." + +"Which she must find very satisfying," remarked Mordaunt. "Now look here, +boy! There must be no more of this. You will have to keep within your +allowance in future." + +"My dear chap, it's all jolly fine--I can't!" protested Noel. "Why, I +only get about twopence-halfpenny a term. It isn't enough to pay a cat's +expenses, besides being always up to the eyes in debt." + +Mordaunt heaved a sigh of resignation. "I suppose I had better look into +your affairs. Write down as clear a statement of your debts as you can, +and let me have it." + +"I say--really?" Noel looked up eagerly. "You're not in earnest?" + +"Yes, I am. And afterwards--you are to keep within your means, or if you +don't I must know the reason why." + +Noel grinned with cheery impudence. "You'll swish me, I suppose, to +improve my morals? Wish I had as many sovereigns as I've had swishings. +They would keep me in clover for a year." + +Mordaunt laughed rather grimly. "I don't waste my time licking hardened +sinners like you. I've something better to do." + +Noel echoed his laugh with keen enjoyment. "You're rather a beast, but I +like you. Have you paid Rupert's debts, too? He is always on the verge of +bankruptcy. Shouldn't wonder if Max is as well, but he keeps his affairs +so dark. I expect he is in the hands of the money-lenders--I know Rupert +was years ago." + +"I don't think he is now," Mordaunt said. + +"Don't you? What's the betting on that? He could no more keep out of +their clutches than he could fly over the moon. I say"--he suddenly burst +into a peal of boyish laughter--"it's the funniest thing on earth to see +you shouldering the family burdens. How you will wish you hadn't! And +that French beggar you've adopted, too, who is safe to rob you sooner or +later! Why don't you start a home for waifs and strays at once? I'll help +you run it. I'll do the accounts." + +Mordaunt laughed, in spite of himself. "Very kind of you! But I think +there are enough of you for the present." + +"All highly satisfactory," grinned Noel. "What a pity you didn't marry +Aunt Philippa, I say! She would have been much more useful to you than +Chris. Never thought of that, I suppose?" + +"Never!" said Mordaunt. + +"Poor old Aunt Phil!" Noel chuckled afresh. "She would have been in her +element if you had only given her the chance. She hates us all like +poison. I suppose you know why?" + +"Haven't an idea," Mordaunt spoke repressively, "unless your general +behaviour has something to do with it." + +"Oh, very likely it has," Noel conceded. "But the chief reason was that +our father diddled her out of a lot of money. He was hard up, and she was +rolling. So he--borrowed a little." He glanced at Mordaunt with a queer +grimace. "Most unfortunately he didn't live to pay it back. I shouldn't +tell anyone this, but I don't mind telling you, as you are one of the +family." + +"And who told you?" Mordaunt inquired. + +"Me? I overheard it." + +"How?" + +The question came sternly, but Noel was sublimely unabashed. + +"The usual way. How does one generally overhear things? I hid behind a +shutter once when Aunt Phil and Murdoch, our man of business, were having +a talk. She pitched it pretty strong, I can tell you. I should have felt +quite sorry for the old girl if I hadn't known that her husband had left +her more than she could possibly know what to do with. As it was, I was +rather glad than otherwise, for she's disgustingly mean over trifles. And +people who can shell out and won't should be made to." + +Mordaunt received this axiom in silence. As a matter of fact he was +somewhat staggered by the information thus airily imparted. But he did +not question the truth of it. He only wondered that he had never +considered such a possibility before. + +Another shout of merriment from the boy at his side made him look round. +"Well? What's the joke?" + +"You!" yelled the youngster, between his paroxysms. "I'm awfully sorry. +You're such a good sort. But I can't help it. I say, Trevor--aren't you +glad just--that you're one of the family?" + +Mordaunt aimed a blow at him that he evaded with ease. "If you don't +behave yourself I shall use the privilege in a fashion you won't care +for," he said, "even if it is a waste of time." + +At which threat Noel confidingly hooked his arm once more through that of +his brother-in-law and begged him in a voice hoarse with laughter to stop +rotting. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISASTER + + +Chris and Noel set off in the motor that afternoon in excellent spirits +to pay the projected call upon Mrs. Pouncefort. + +They found the lady of the house at home, and spent an animated hour with +her; for although she never appeared to welcome her visitors or to exert +herself in any degree to entertain them, most of them seemed to find it +difficult to get away. + +When they departed at length they carried with them an invitation to a +garden _fête_ which had been arranged for the following week. It included +the whole party, to Chris's great satisfaction. + +"It will be the very thing for Bertie," she said. "It is just what he +needs." + +Noel, who entertained a sweeping prejudice against all foreigners, was +inclined to dispute this, and a lively argument ensued in consequence, +which lasted during the greater part of the run home. + +Chris was at the wheel, being a fairly experienced driver by that time, +though Mordaunt was very insistent that she should always have someone +responsible by her side. On this occasion, however, Holmes, who was +acting as chauffeur, had been imperiously relegated to the back seat by +Noel, who intended to have his turn before the end of the ride. He had +driven twice before under his brother-in-law's supervision, and he +considered himself an expert. + +As soon as they were through the lodge-gates, therefore, he began to +clamour to change places with Chris. The worried Holmes protested in +vain. Chris, though firmly refusing to sit behind, was quite willing to +give her place at the wheel to her brother; and the change was speedily +effected, remonstrance notwithstanding. + +"We can't come to any harm on our own drive," was the careless +consolation she threw to the perturbed man behind her, who then and there +solemnly swore to his inner soul that whatever the outcome of the venture +he would never again trust himself or the car to the tender mercies of +the Wyndham family. + +Finding himself thus ignored, he stood up and leaned over the boy's +shoulder to give directions in the face of any sudden emergency that +might arise, though Noel was obviously in no mood to pay any attention to +them. As he remarked later, when recounting the adventure, he knew in his +bones that there was going to be an accident; but the nature of it he +could hardly be expected to foresee. + +In fact, for a brief space all went well. The motor buzzed merrily along +the drive, and it almost seemed as if the escapade would end without +mishap, when, as they rounded the bend that led to the house, Noel +unexpectedly put on speed. They shot forward at a great pace under the +arching trees, and forthwith suddenly came disaster. Swift as a lightning +flash it came--too swift for realization, almost too swift for sight. It +was only a tiny, racing figure that darted for the fraction of a second +in front of the car, and then--with a squeal half-choked--was lost in the +rush of the wheels. It was only Cinders chasing a rabbit which he was +destined never to catch. + +Chris's shriek of agony rang as far as the house. In another moment she +would have thrown herself headlong from the car, but Holmes was too quick +for her. Not in vain had Holmes been through a three-years' war; not in +vain did he hold himself responsible for the young wife of the master +whom that war had taught him to love. Almost before she had sprung from +her seat he had caught her, forcing her down again, holding her by grim +strength from her mad purpose. She struggled with him fiercely, +hysterically; but Holmes's grip never relaxed. She bore the marks of it +upon her arms for weeks after. + +And while he held her, baffling her utmost efforts to free herself, he +was giving directions to Noel, whose nerve had departed completely with +the shock of the catastrophe, giving them over and over again--steadily, +insistently, and very distinctly, till they took effect at last, though +only just in time. + +They were dangerously near the house before, in response to the boy's +frantic efforts, the car slackened and finally, under Holmes's reiterated +directions, ran to a standstill. + +Chris, in a perfect frenzy by that time, wrenched herself free and sprang +down. Her husband, who had rushed from the house at her cry, was close to +her as she reached the ground, but she sped away without so much as +seeing him. + +Back up the drive she tore, back to the shadowing trees, back to the +piteous little blot in the shadow that was the only thing her world +contained in that hour of anguish. + +When they reached her she was sunk on the ground beside her favourite, +crying his name, while he, whimpering, strove to drag his mangled body +into her lap. She tried to lift him, but he yelped so terribly at her +touch that she was forced to let him lie. + +"Oh, Cinders, Cinders!" she cried, in an agony. "My little darling, what +shall I do?" + +Someone stooped over her; a quiet hand lay upon her shoulder. "Chris," it +was her husband's voice, very grave and tender, "come away, dear. You +can't do anything. The poor little chap is past our help." + +She lifted a dazed face, staring uncomprehendingly. + +"Come away," he repeated. + +But when he tried to raise her she resisted him. "And leave him like +this? No, never, never! Oh, Trevor, look--look! He is dying! Can't we do +something--anything? Oh, he never cried like that before!" + +"My dear, there is nothing that you can do." Very gently he made answer. +"He can't possibly live. There is only one thing to be done, and that is +to put him out of his pain as quickly as possible. But I can't do it +with you here. So come away, dear! It's the kindest--in fact, it's the +only--thing you can do." + +"Are you going to--kill him?" gasped Chris in horror. + +He nodded, with compressed lips. "There is no alternative. We can't let +him suffer like this." + +"Oh no, no, no!" Chris cried. + +She would have thrown her arms about her darling, but he stopped her. He +caught her wrists and held her back. + +"Chris, you must not! When animals are hurt they will bite without +knowing what they are doing. Chris, do you hear me? You must go." + +But she would not. "Do you think I would leave him now--when he wants me +most? And as if he would bite me--Cinders--Cinders--who never even +growled at me!" + +She bent over him again, beside herself with grief. Cinders, in the midst +of his pain, tried gently to wag his tail. His brown eyes, faithful, +appealing, full of love, gazed up at her. He had never seen his mistress +in such trouble before, and the instinct to comfort her urged him even +then, in the midst of his own. Again he made piteous efforts to crawl +into her arms, but again he failed, and fell back, whimpering. + +Chris covered her face. It was more than she could bear, and yet she +could not--could not--leave him. + +For a space that might have been minutes or only seconds she was left +alone, tortured but impotent. A dreadful darkness had fallen upon her, a +numbness in which Cinders, suffering and slowly dying, was the only +reality. + +Then again she became conscious of another presence. A quick hand touched +her. A soft voice spoke. + +"Ah, the poor Cinders! And he lives yet! _Chérie_, we will be +kind to him, yes? We cannot make him live, but we will let him die +quick--quick, so that he suffer no more. That is kind, that is merciful, +_n'est-ce-pas_?" + +She turned instinctively in answer to that voice. She held up her hands +to the speaker like a child. "Oh, Bertie," she cried piteously, "is there +nothing to be done? Nothing?" + +"Only that, _chérie_," he made answer, very gently. + +"Then"--she was sobbing terribly, but she suffered his hands to raise +her--"don't let them--send me away, Bertie. I can't go--while he lives. +It--it would hurt him more, if I went." + +"No, no, _chérie_," he answered her reassuringly. "You will be brave, +yes? See, I will hold your hand. We will go just across the road, but +not beyond his sight. He will see you. He will know that you are near. +There--there, _chérie_! Shut your eyes! It will be finished soon." + +He put his arm around her, for she stumbled blindly. They went across the +road as he had said, and halted under the trees on the farther side. + +There followed a pause--an interval that was terrible--during which only +the low crying of an animal in pain was audible. + +Bertrand stood like a rock, still holding her. "But you will not look, +_chérie_," he whispered to her softly. "It is deliverance--this death. +Soon--soon he will not cry any more." + +She pressed her face against his shoulder, wrapped in the close security +of his arms, and waited, drawing each breath with difficulty, saying no +word. + +She did not know what was happening, and she dared not look. She could +only wait in anguish for the whimpering that tore her heart to cease. + +"Now, _chérie_!" whispered Bertrand at last, and she stiffened in his +arms, preparing for she knew not what. + +His hold tightened. For that instant he pressed her hard against his +heart, so that she heard its quick beating. + +The next there came a loud report--a sound that violently rent her +stretched nerves, shattering them as glass is shattered by a stone. She +drooped without sound like a broken flower, and the young Frenchman +gathered her up, just as he had done on the occasion of their first +meeting at Valpré, and bore her away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +GOOD-BYE TO CHILDHOOD + + +Out of the dreadful darkness Chris groped her halting way, saw light, +and, shuddering, closed her eyes again. But at once a voice spoke to her, +soothingly, tenderly, calling her back. + +Reluctantly she responded, reluctantly she returned to full +consciousness, and knew that she was lying fully dressed upon a couch in +the drawing-room. But at sight of her husband's face bending above her +she shuddered again--a painful, convulsive shudder that shook her from +head to foot. + +He laid a quiet hand on her head, but she shrank away. "Please, +Trevor"--she faltered--"please, I want to be alone." + +"Yes, dear," he made gentle reply. "Just drink this first, and I will +leave you." + +But she withdrew herself almost violently; she buried her face deep in +the cushion. "I can't! I can't! Please don't ask me to. I am quite all +right. I only want--to be alone." + +She was shaking all over as one with an ague, and her words were hardly +articulate. He waited a little for her trembling to pass, but it only +increased till her whole body seemed to twitch uncontrollably. At last +with the utmost quietness he stooped and deliberately raised her. + +"Chris, my dear little girl, you mustn't let yourself go like this. I +want you to take this stuff to steady you. Afterwards you will have a +sleep and be better." + +She did not absolutely resist him, but he felt her nervous contraction at +his touch. The face she turned to his was ghastly in its pallor. + +"I--I don't think I can, Trevor," she said, speaking very rapidly. "My +throat won't swallow. It would only choke me. Please--please, if you +don't mind--go away. I shall be all right if--if you will only go." + +"I can't leave you like this," he said. + +"Yes, yes, you can," she answered feverishly. "Oh, what does it matter? +Trevor, I must be alone. I must! I must! Please go!" + +Her agitation was growing with every second, and he saw that he must +yield. He laid her back again without a word, smoothed the cushions, +touched her hair, and softly departed. + +She listened tensely for the closing of the door, relaxing instantly the +moment she heard it. A great darkness descended upon her soul. She lay +motionless, face downwards, too stunned for thought. + +A long time passed. It was growing late. Over the quiet garden the summer +dusk was falling. The swallows were swooping through it in their +multitudes--the swallows that Cinders loved to chase. To-night no cheery, +impudent bark pursued their flight. To-night all was still. + +Did they miss him? she began to wonder dully. Did they ask each other +where he had gone? And then, half-consciously, she began to listen for +him, the scamper of the light feet, the gay jingle of his collar, till in +a moment she almost fancied that she heard him scratching at the door. + +She was half off the sofa before realization stabbed her, and she sank +back numbly into her desolation. + +Again a long time passed--an interval not to be measured by hours or +minutes. The swallows ceased to circle and went to roost. It began to be +dark. And still Chris lay alone, a huddled, motionless figure, prostrate, +crushed, inanimate. Her hands and feet were like ice, but she did not +know it. She was past caring for such trifles. All her abounding vitality +seemed to be arrested, as if her very blood had ceased to circulate. + +It was growing late when the door opened at last. A figure stood a moment +upon the threshold, then entered, moving with a quick, light tread that +might have been the tread of a woman. In the darkness it reached her, +bent over her. + +"_Ah, pauvre petite_!" said a soft voice, a voice so full of compassion +that it thrilled straight to her silent heart and made it beat again. +"All alone with your grief! You permit me to intrude myself, no?" + +She turned and felt up towards him with an icy hand. "Bertie!" she said. +"You--might have come before!" + +He knelt swiftly down beside her, pressing the little trembling fingers +against his neck to give them warmth. "But you are so cold!" he said. +"You must not lie here any more." + +"Why not?" she said dully. "I don't think it matters, does it?" + +"But of course!" he made quick rejoinder. "When you suffer we suffer +also. Also"--he paused an instant--"Mr. Mordaunt awaits you, _petite_. +Will you not go to him?" + +She shivered. "Need I, Bertie? I don't want to." + +It was the cry of a child--a child in distress--plunged for the first +time in the bitter waters of grief, turning instinctively to the friend +of childhood for comfort. "I don't want anyone but you," she said +piteously. "You understand. You loved him--and Trevor didn't." + +"Oh, but, Christine--" Bertrand began. + +"No, he didn't!" she maintained, with sudden vehemence. "I always knew he +didn't. He put up with him for my sake; but he never loved him. He never +noticed his pretty little ways. Once--once"--she began to sob--"it was on +our wedding-day--he slapped him--for chasing a cat! My sweet wee +Cinders!" + +She broke down utterly upon the words, and there followed such a storm of +tears that Bertrand was forced to abandon all attempts to reason with +her, and could only kneel and whisper soft endearments in his own +language, soothing her, comforting her, as though she were indeed the +child she seemed. + +But it was long before she even heard him, not until the paroxysm had +spent itself and she lay passive and utterly exhausted, with her hands +fast clasped in his. + +"You are good to me," she murmured then, and in a moment, "Why, Bertie, +you're crying too!" + +"Ah, pardon me!" he whispered, under his breath. "But to see you in pain, +my little one, my bird of Paradise--" + +"No," she said, a strange note of conviction in her voice, "I shall never +be that any more now that Cinders is gone. I shan't be young like that +any more. I--I shall grow up now, Bertie. I daresay Trevor will like me +the better for it. But you won't, dear. You will be sorry, I know. We've +been playfellows always, haven't we, even though you grew up and I +didn't? Well"--there came a sharp catch in her voice--"we shall both be +grown-up now." + +And then, all in a moment, as if some panic urged her, she started up, +drawing his hands close. "But we'll be friends still, won't we, Bertie? +You won't talk of going away any more, will you? Promise me! Promise me, +Bertie!" + +He hesitated. "It might be better that I should go," he said slowly. "It +is possible that--" + +She interrupted him almost hysterically. "Oh no, no, no! I want you here. +I want you, Bertie, Don't you understand?" + +"But yes," he said. "Only, _petite_--" + +"You will promise, then?" she broke in, as though she had not heard the +last words. "Bertie, I'm so miserable. You--you--wouldn't add to it all!" + +"No, _chérie_, by Heaven, no!" he said, with vehemence. + +"Then you'll stay, Bertie? You will stay?" Very earnestly she besought +him. Her tears were dropping on his hands. "Say you will!" + +For a moment longer he hesitated; he tried to resist her, he tried to +take a sane and temperate view. But those tears were too much for him. +They were the one torture he could not endure. With a sharp gesture he +flung his hesitation from him. Yet even then he left himself a way of +escape lest the temptation should be more than he could bear. + +"I will stay," he made grave reply, "as long as it would make you happy +to have me with you--that is"--he checked himself--"if Mr. Mordaunt +desire it also." + +"But of course he does," said Chris. "He likes you. And I--I can't do +without you, Bertie--not now." + +He heard the desolate note in her voice, and he did not contradict her. +Had he not sworn that while she needed him he would be at hand? + +"_Eh bien_," he said soothingly. "I stay." + +That comforted her somewhat, and presently, at his persuasion, she sat up +and dried her eyes. It was too dark for them to see each other, but she +held his hand very tightly; and there was comfort also in that. + +"Now you will come away from here," he said. "Mr. Mordaunt is very +troubled about you. He would not come to you himself because he thought +that you did not desire him. But that was not true, no?" + +Again that hard shudder went through Chris. She was silent for a little, +them "Oh, Bertie," she whispered, "I wish--I wish--it hadn't been he +who--who--" she broke off--"you know what I mean. You--saw!" + +Yes, he knew. It was what Mordaunt himself had suspected, and loyally he +entered the breach on his friend's behalf. + +"_Chérie_--pardon me--that is not a good wish--not worthy of you. That +which he did was most merciful, most brave, and he did it himself because +he would not trust another. I wish it had been my hand--not his. Then you +would have understood." + +"I almost wish it had been!" whispered Chris; and then, her words +scarcely audible, "But--but do you think--he--knew?" + +"_Le pauvre Cinders_?" Very softly Bertrand spoke the dog's name. "No, +Christine. He did not know. His head was turned the other way. His eyes +regarded only you. And Mr. Mordaunt was so quiet, so steady. He aim his +revolver quite straight, and his hand tremble--no, not once. Oh, believe +me, _petite_, it was better to end it so." + +"Yes, I know, only--only"--convulsively her hands closed upon +his--"Bertie--Bertie--dogs do go to heaven, don't they?" + +"I believe it, Christine." + +"You do really--not just because I want you to?" + +He drew her gently to her feet. "_Chérie_, I believe it, because I know +that all love is eternal, and death is only an incident in eternity. +Where there is love there is no death. Nothing that loves can die. It is +the Divine Spark that nothing can ever quench." + +He spoke with absolute conviction, almost with exultation; and the words +went straight to Chris's heart and stayed there. + +"You do comfort me," she said. + +"I only tell you the truth," he made answer, "as I see it. We do not yet +know the power of Love. We only know that it is the greatest of all. It +is _le bon Dieu_ in the world. And we meet Him everywhere--even in the +heart of a dog." + +"I shall remember that," she said. + +Her hand still clung to his as they groped their way across the room. At +the door for a moment she stayed him. + +"I shall never forget your goodness to me, Bertie, never--never!" she +said, very earnestly. + +"Ah, bah!" he answered quickly. "But we are--pals!" + +And with that he opened the door, almost as if impatient, and made her +pass before him into the hall. + +The lamplight dazzled Chris, and she stood for a moment uncertain. Then, +as her eyes became accustomed to the change, she discovered her husband, +standing a few yards away, looking at her. + +He did not speak, merely held out his hand to her; and she went to him +with a vagrant feeling of reluctance. + +He put his arm about her, looking gravely into her wan face; but she +turned from his scrutiny and leaned her head against his shoulder with a +piteous little murmur of protest. + +"Do you mind if I go to bed, Trevor?" she said, after a moment. "I--I'm +very tired, and I don't want any dinner." + +"You must have something, dear," he made answer, "but have it in bed by +all means. I will bring it up to you in half an hour." + +She made a slight movement which might have meant dissent, but which +remained unexplained. For a little she stood passive, leaning against him +as though she lacked the energy to go, but at length she made a move. +Glancing round, she saw that Bertrand had departed. + +"Where is Noel?" she asked. + +"In his room." + +She looked up sharply, detecting a hint of grimness in his voice. +"Trevor"--she halted a little--"are you--vexed with anybody?" + +His face softened at her tone. "Never mind now, dear," he said. "You are +worn out. Get to bed." + +She put her hand to her head with a weary gesture. "But why--why is Noel +in his room?" + +"Because I sent him there." + +"You!" She stared at him, fully roused from her lethargy. "Trevor! Why?" + +"I will tell you tomorrow," he said, frowning slightly. "I can't have you +upset any more tonight." + +"But, Trevor--" + +"Chris, dear, go to bed," he said firmly. "If I don't find you there in +half an hour, I shall put you there myself." + +"Oh no!" she broke in. "Please don't come up. I shall get on better +alone. And I have to say goodnight to Noel first." + +"I am sorry, dear," he said, "but you can't. Noel is in disgrace, and I +would rather you did not see him to-night." + +"In disgrace! Trevor--why?" + +He put his arm deliberately round her again, and led her to the stairs. + +"Tell me why," she said. + +"I will tell you tomorrow," he repeated. + +But she would not be satisfied. She turned upon the first stair, +confronting him. "Tell me now, please, Trevor." + +He raised his brows at her insistence. + +"Yes," she said in answer, "but I want to know. You don't--you +can't--blame him for--for--" she faltered and bit her lip +desperately--"you know what," she ended under her breath. + +"I do blame him," he answered quietly. "I forbade him strictly to attempt +to drive without someone of experience beside him." + +"Oh!" A sharp note of misgiving sounded in Chris's voice. "You said that +to me too!" she said. + +He looked at her very gravely. "I did." + +"Then--then"--she stretched a hand to the bannisters--"you are angry with +me too?" + +"No, I am not angry with you," he said, and she was conscious of a subtle +softening in his tone. "I am never angry with you, Chris," he said +emphatically. + +"And yet you are angry with Noel," she said. + +"That is different." + +"How--different?" + +He took her hand into his. "Do you know he nearly killed you?" + +She started a little. "Me?" + +He nodded grimly. "Yes. If it had been only himself, it wouldn't have +mattered. But you--you!" + +His arms went out to her suddenly; he caught her to him, held her +passionately close for a moment, then lifted her and began to carry her +upstairs. + +She lay against his breast in quivering silence. It seemed that Cinders +did not matter either so long as she was safe; and though she knew beyond +all question that he was not angry with her, she was none the less +afraid. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LOOKER-ON + + +"I think that it should be remembered that he is young," said Bertrand, +"also that he has been punished enough severely already." + +He leaned back in an easy-chair with a cigarette which he had suffered to +go out between his fingers, and watched Mordaunt pacing up and down. + +Mordaunt made no pretence of smoking. He walked to and fro with his hands +behind him, his brows drawn in thought, his mouth very grim. + +"My good fellow, he will have forgotten all that by to-morrow," he said, +with a faint, hard smile. "I know these Wyndhams." + +"I also," said Bertrand quietly. + +Mordaunt glanced at him. "Well?" + +The Frenchman hesitated momentarily. "I think," he said, "that you will +find them more easy to lead than to drive." + +Mordaunt's frown deepened. "They are all so hopelessly lawless, so +utterly unprincipled. As for lying, this boy at least thinks nothing of +it." + +"Ah, that is detestable, that!" Bertrand said. "But he would not lie to +you unless you made him afraid, _hein_?" + +"He lies whenever it suits his purpose," Mordaunt said. "He would have +lied about the speed of the motor if I would have listened to him. But it +is his disobedience I am dealing with now. If I don't give that boy the +sound thrashing he deserves for defying my orders, he will never obey me +again." + +Bertrand's eyes, very bright and vigilant, opened a little. "But +Christine!" he said. + +"Yes, I know." Mordaunt came to a sudden halt. "Chris also must learn +that when I say a thing I mean it," he said. + +"Without doubt," the Frenchman conceded gravely. "But that is not all +that you want. And surely it would be better to be a little lenient to +her brother than to alienate her confidence from yourself." + +He spoke impressively, so impressively that Mordaunt turned and looked at +him with close attention. Several seconds passed before, very quietly, he +spoke. + +"What makes you say this to me, Bertrand?" + +"Because you are my friend," Bertrand answered. + +"And you think my wife is afraid of me?" + +Bertrand's eyes met his with the utmost directness. "I think that she +might very easily become afraid." + +Mordaunt looked at him for several seconds longer, then deliberately +pulled up a chair, and sat facing him. + +"In Heaven's name, Bertrand, why?" he said. + +Bertrand made a quick gesture, almost as if he would have checked the +question, but when it was uttered he sat in silence. + +"You can't tell me?" Mordaunt said at last. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "If you desire it, I will tell you what I +think." + +"Tell me, then." + +A faint flush rose in Bertrand's face. He contemplated the end of his +cigarette as if he were studying something of interest. "I think, +monsieur," he said at last, "that if you asked more of her, you would +obtain more. She is afraid of you because she does not know you. You +regard her as a child. You are never on a level with her. You are not +enough her friend. Therefore you do not understand her. Therefore she +does not know you. Therefore she is--afraid." + +His eyes darted up to Mordaunt's grave face for an instant, and returned +to the cigarette. + +There followed a silence of some duration. At last very quietly Mordaunt +rose, went to the mantelpiece, helped himself to a cigarette, and began +to search for matches. + +Bertrand sprang up to proffer one of his own. They stood close together +while the flame kindled between them. After a moment their eyes met +through a cloud of smoke. Bertrand's held a tinge of anxiety. + +"I have displeased you, no?" he asked abruptly. + +Mordaunt leaned a friendly hand upon his shoulder. "On the contrary, I am +grateful to you. I believe there is something in what you say. I never +gave you credit for so much perception." + +Bertrand's face cleared. He began to smile--the smile of the rider who +has just cleared a difficult obstacle. + +"You have a proverb in England," he said, "concerning those who watch the +game, that they see more than those who play. Shall we say that it is +thus with me? You and Christine are my very good friends, and I know you +both better than you know each other." + +"I believe you do," Mordaunt said, smiling faintly himself. "Well, I +suppose I must let the youngster off his thrashing for her sake. I wonder +if he has gone to bed." He glanced at the clock. "It's time you went, +anyhow. You are looking fagged to death. Go and sleep as long as you +can." + +He gripped the Frenchman's hand, looking at him with a kindly scrutiny +which Bertrand refused to meet. He never encouraged any reference to his +health. + +"I am all right," he said with emphasis, but he returned the hand-grip +with a warmth that left no doubt as to the cordiality of his feelings. He +was ever too polished a gentleman to be discourteous. + +Left alone, Mordaunt sat down at his writing-table to clear off some work +which he had taken out of his secretary's hands earlier in the day. It +was midnight before he finished, and even then he sat on for a long time +deep in thought. + +It was probably true, what Bertrand had said. Tenderly as he loved his +young wife, he had not succeeded in winning her confidence. There was no +friendship between them in the most intimate sense of the word, and so +she feared him. His love was to her a consuming flame from which she +shrank. Bitterly he admitted the fact, since there was no ignoring it. +She was frightened at the very existence of his passion, restrain it how +he would. She was his and yet not his. She eluded him, even when he held +her in his arms. + +His thoughts travelled backwards, recalling incident after incident, all +pointing to the same thing. And yet he knew that he had been patient with +her. He had held himself in check perpetually. And here again Bertrand's +words recurred to him. If he had asked more, might he not have obtained +more? Was it possible that he had failed to win her because he had not +let her feel the compulsion of his love? Was it perchance his very +restraint that frightened her? Had he indeed asked too little? + +Again his thoughts went back and dwelt upon their wedding-night. He had +kindled some answering flame within her then. She had not attempted to +withhold herself. The memory of her shy surrender swept over him, setting +the blood leaping in his veins anew. She had been his that night, and his +throughout the brief fortnight that followed. They had been very intent +upon the renovations, and no cloud had even shadowed their horizon. How +was it she had slipped away from him since? Was it the advent of that +tempestuous youngster that had caused the change? Undoubtedly Chris was +less a Wyndham when alone with him. Or was there some other cause, +arising possibly from some hidden fluctuation of mood, some restlessness +of the spirit, of which he had had no warning? Her aunt's declaration +that they were all lacking in stability recurred to him. Was it so with +her? Was she fickle, was she changeable, his little Chris? + +Her own words came back to him, uttered with tears upon her wedding-day: +"Don't you often think me silly and fickle? You'll find it more and more, +the more you see of me. You'll be horribly disappointed in me some day." + +He rose abruptly. No, that day had not dawned yet. If she had slipped +away from him, he, and he alone, was to blame. He had not won the +friendship which alone brings trust, and he knew now that he could not +hold her without it. As Bertrand had said, he had not been enough her +friend. Even now she was probably crying herself ill in solitude over the +loss of Cinders. + +The thought quickened him to action. He turned out the light, and went +swiftly from the room. + +Upstairs, outside her door, he stopped to listen, but he heard no sound. +She had cried herself to sleep, then, and he had not been there to +comfort her. His heart smote him. Had she deemed him unsympathetic? She +had seemed to wish to be alone, and for that reason he had left her as +soon as he had satisfied himself that she had all she needed in a +physical sense. She had not wanted him. She had shrunk from his touch. +She had probably seen him go with relief. But--he asked himself the +question with sudden misgiving--would it have been better if he had +ignored her evident desire and stayed? He had feared exhaustion for her +and had avoided any word or action that might have led to a renewal of +her grief. Had he seemed to think too lightly of her sorrow? Had she been +repelled by his very forbearance? + +He passed on softly to his own room. The door that led from this into +hers was ajar. He pushed it a little wider, and looked in. + +It was lighted only by the moon, which threw a flood of radiance through +the wide-flung windows. Every object in the room stood out in strong +relief. Standing motionless in the doorway, Trevor Mordaunt sought and +found his wife. + +She was lying with her face to the moonlight, her hair streaming loose, +the bedclothes pushed off her shoulders. + +And there beside her, curled up in a big easy-chair, his black head +lodged against her pillow, one hand clasped close in hers, lay Noel. Both +had been crying, both were asleep. + +For many seconds Mordaunt stood upon the threshold, gravely watching +them, but he made no movement to draw nearer. At last noiselessly he +withdrew, and closed the door. + +The grimness had all gone from his face. He even smiled a little as he +resigned himself to spending the night in his own room. The idea of +disturbing the brother and sister never crossed his mind. It was enough +for him that Chris had found comfort. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A BARGAIN + + +"Luck!" said Rupert gloomily. "There never is any where I am concerned." + +This in response to a question from his brother-in-law as to the general +progress of his affairs. He sat in Mordaunt's writing-room, with one of +Mordaunt's cigars between his lips, and a decidedly sullen expression on +his good-looking face. + +"I'm sick of everything," he declared. "I'm going to chuck the Army. It's +never done anything for me. There's no chance of active service, and I +loathe garrison work." + +"The only question being, what else are you fit for?" said Mordaunt. + +Rupert threw him a quick look. "I'll be your bailiff, if you like," he +said. "I could do that." + +Mordaunt raised his brows at the suggestion. "That is an idea that never +occurred to me," he remarked. + +"Why not? You want a bailiff, don't you?" + +"A reliable one," said Mordaunt. + +Rupert jumped in his chair as if he had been stung. "What the devil do +you mean?" + +"I mean"--Mordaunt regarded him steadily--"that I shouldn't care to trust +my affairs to a man who can't look after his own." + +Rupert's eyes flashed. "I am not to be trusted, then?" + +Mordaunt continued to regard him, quite unmoved. + +"You had better ask yourself that question, my dear fellow," he said. +"You are better qualified to answer it than I am." + +Rupert relaxed again, dropping back listlessly. "I suppose you are right. +I certainly don't make a great success of things. I believe I should get +on better with you than with anyone else. But if you feel like that about +it, there is no more to be said." + +"You really want to be taken seriously, do you?" Mordaunt said. + +"Of course I do!" Rupert turned towards him again with the lightning +change of mood characteristic of him. "You must forgive me for being a +bit touchy, old chap. It's this infernal thundery weather. May I have +another drink?" He helped himself without waiting for permission. "Of +course I want to be taken seriously. It's a billet that would suit me +down to the ground. I know the place, every inch of it, and, as you know, +I'm fond of it. I would look after your interests as though they were my +own." + +Mordaunt smiled. "But do you look after your own?" + +Rupert clinked some ice into his tumbler, and thoughtfully watched it +float. + +"You've been so jolly decent to me," he said at length, "that I haven't +the face to bother you with my affairs again." + +"I suppose that means you are in difficulties," his brother-in-law +remarked. + +He nodded without looking up. "I'm never out of 'em. It's not my fault. +It's my beastly bad luck." + +"Of course," said Mordaunt dryly. + +Rupert bobbed the ice against his glass and spilt some whisky-and-water +in so doing. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I was born in Queer Street, and I've lived +there all my life. You fellows who are simply rolling in wealth haven't +the smallest notion what it means." + +"What is the good of saying that?" Mordaunt sounded impatient for the +first time. "You know as well as I do that if you had twenty thousand a +year you would spend twice the amount." + +Rupert glanced at him sideways. "Hullo!" he said softly. "Beginning to +size us up, are you?" + +"I'm beginning to think"--Mordaunt spoke with force--"that your sense of +honour is as much a minus quantity as your wealth." + +"Honour!" Rupert looked up in genuine astonishment. + +"Yes, honour," Mordaunt repeated grimly. "Do you call it honourable to +run up debts that you have no possibility of paying?" + +Rupert turned crimson. "Look here! I'm not going to stay here to be +insulted," he said hotly. "I haven't asked for your help, and I'm damned +if I'd take it if you offered it--after that." + +He was on his feet with the words, but Mordaunt remained seated. "You can +do as you like," he said quietly. "If you choose to take offence, that is +your affair. I helped you before because I knew you were hard up and I +was sorry for you. But there is no occasion for you to be hard up now. +And I am not sorry for you this time. I think you deserve to be kicked." + +"You be damned!" said Rupert fiercely. + +Mordaunt's brows went up. He looked full into the boy's heated face, and +though he said no word Rupert turned slowly white under the look. In the +dead silence that followed he stood as tense as though he expected a +blow. Yet Mordaunt made no movement, spoke no word. + +It was Rupert who broke the silence finally, broke it hurriedly, +stammeringly, as though it had become unbearable. "All right, old chap. I +didn't mean quite that. But you--you shouldn't badger me. I'm not used to +it." + +"Sit down," Mordaunt said. + +He obeyed awkwardly, and to cover his discomfiture took up his glass to +drink. But before it reached his lips Mordaunt spoke again. + +"Rupert!" + +He started a little, and again the liquid splashed over. + +"Put that down!" Mordaunt said. + +Again dumbly he obeyed. + +Mordaunt leaned forward and drew the glass out of his reach. "It has +never been my intention to badger you," he said. "But I reserve to myself +the privilege of telling you the truth. That is the fourth drink I have +seen you mix this afternoon." + +"I'm perfectly sober," Rupert asserted quickly. + +"Yes, I know. But you are not as cool as you might be." Very keenly +Mordaunt's eyes surveyed him, but they were not without a hint of +kindness notwithstanding. "I mustn't call you a young fool, I suppose," +he said, "but really you are not overwise. Now, what about these affairs +of yours? Shall we go into them now or after tea?" + +Rupert shrugged his shoulders sullenly. "I don't know that I care to go +into them at all." + +The kindliness went out of Mordaunt's eyes and a certain steeliness took +its place. "As you like," he said. "Only let it be clearly understood +that I will have no borrowing from Chris. I have forbidden her to lend +money to any one of you. If you want it, you must come direct to me." + +Rupert shifted his position, and looked out of the window. Down in the +garden Chris was dispensing tea to three of his brother-subalterns, +assisted by Noel. Bertrand was seated by her side, alert and watchful, +ready at a moment's notice to come to her aid. It was his customary +attitude, and it had been so more than ever since the death of Cinders. +There was a protecting brotherliness about him that Chris found +infinitely comforting: He understood her so perfectly. + +She had not wanted to emerge from her seclusion to entertain her +brother's friends on that sunny Sunday afternoon, but he had gently +persuaded her. A change had come over Chris during the past four days. +The violence of her grief had spent itself on the night that she and Noel +had mingled their tears over the loss of their favourite, and she had not +alluded to it since. She accepted her husband's sympathy with gratitude, +but she shrank so visibly from the smallest allusion to her trouble that +he found no opportunity for expressing it. He would not intrude it upon +her. It was not his way, and she made him aware that for this also she +was grateful. + +But it was plainly from Bertrand that she drew her chief comfort. His +very presence seemed to soothe her. He was just the friend she needed to +help her through her dark hour. + +That she fretted secretly Mordaunt could not doubt, but she was so +zealous to hide all traces of it from him that he never detected them. He +only missed her gay wilfulness and the sunshine of her smile. She +responded to his tenderness even more readily than usual, but she did not +open her heart to him. There seemed to be a barrier intervening that she +could not bring herself to pass. + +In his own mind he set this fact down to a certain feminine +unreasonableness, imagining that she could not forget his share in the +tragedy that had affected her so deeply. He trusted to time to soften the +painful impression, and meanwhile, with his habitual patience, he set +himself to wait till the physical strain had passed and the very +sweetness of her nature should bring her back to him. He knew that all +Bertrand's influence would be exercised in this direction, and his faith +in his young secretary's discretion was considerable. Their brief +conversation on the night of the disaster had rooted it more firmly than +ever. Bertrand was so essentially a man of honour that he trusted him in +all things as he trusted himself. Their code was the same, and their +friendship of the kind that endures for life. If there were one thing on +earth before all others upon which Trevor Mordaunt would have staked his +all, it was this Frenchman's loyalty to himself. He was as staunch as +Chris's brothers were unstable. He believed him to be utterly incapable +of so much as an underhand impulse. And he was content that Chris should +have for friend this man who was so close a friend of his own, upon whose +nobility of character he had come to rely as a power for good that could +not fail to raise her ideals and deepen in her that sense of honour which +was still scarcely more than an undeveloped instinct in her soul. + +His eyes followed Rupert's to the open window. The sound of chaffing +voices rose clearly on the summer air, mingled with the chink of +tea-cups. + +"Shall we go?" Mordaunt said. + +Rupert looked round with a laugh. "Did you see that ass Murphy stand on +his head to drink his tea? It's his pet accomplishment. Yes, all right; +let's go." + +He got up, glanced at the whisky-and-soda on the table, then impulsively +linked his arm in that of his brother-in-law, all his sullenness gone +like a storm-cloud. + +"You're quite right, old fellow. I have had as much of that stuff as is +good for me. Forgive me for being such a bear. I didn't mean it." + +Mordaunt paused. He had never dealt with anyone quite so bewilderingly +changeable before. "I wish I knew how to treat you," he said, after a +moment. + +"Oh, pitch into me! It's the only way." Rupert's smile flashed suddenly +upon him. "I've been an ungrateful brute, and I'm ashamed of myself. +Seriously, Trevor, I'm sorry. I sometimes think to myself it's downright +disgusting the way we all sponge on you. It's deuced good of you to put +up with it." + +Mordaunt still regarded him with close attention. But there was no doubt +in his mind as to the boy's sincerity: he only wondered how long this +contrite mood would last. + +"I am always willing to help you to the best of my ability," he said. +"But I think you might play the game. I can't keep pouring water into a +sieve." + +"It's not to be expected," Rupert agreed. "And I hate asking you for more +money. I'm an absolute cur to do it. But--" he broke off, and pulled his +hand free--"for goodness' sake, man, if you can--just this once--" + +Mordaunt crossed the room to his writing-table, unlocked a drawer, took +out a cheque-book. + +"How much?" + +"I say, you are a good chap!" Rupert protested. "Can you make it a +hundred?" + +"Will that settle everything?" Mordaunt asked. + +"Oh, well--practically everything." + +Mordaunt wrote the cheque in silence. He handed it over his shoulder +finally to the boy behind him. + +"It's for a hundred and fifty. I hope that will see you through. And look +here, Rupert, do for Heaven's sake pull up and keep within bounds. I am +quite willing to help you to a reasonable extent, but you must do your +part, too. You are living at an insane rate. Do you keep an account of +your expenditure?" + +"Of course I don't!" Rupert seemed astonished at the question. "What on +earth would be the good of that? It wouldn't reduce my expenses." + +Mordaunt laid his cheque-book back in the drawer. "And you think you +would make a good bailiff?" he said. + +"Oh, that's different. Of course, you must have accounts for the +management of an estate. You would have no cause to complain of me there. +Are you going to think it over, I say?" + +Mordaunt turned in his chair. "You really wish me to do so?" + +"Rather!" Rupert spoke with enthusiasm. "If you knew how deadly sick I am +of the life I live now!" he added, with strong disgust. "It's beastly +hard work, too, in a sense, and nothing to show for it." + +"I should work you hard myself," Mordaunt observed. + +"I shouldn't mind that. I'd work like a horse here. It's what I've always +wanted to do." + +"And kick like a horse, too, if I ventured to find fault," said Mordaunt, +smiling a little. + +"No, I shouldn't. I'd take it like a lamb. Come, man, I've apologized." + +There was a note of reproach in Rupert's voice. Mordaunt left his +writing-table and faced him squarely. + +"I'll make a bargain with you," he said. "If you can manage to keep +straight between now and Christmas, and you are of the same mind then, I +will take you on. Is it done?" + +Rupert thrust out a hand with a beaming countenance. "Done, old fellow! +And a thousand thanks! I'll do my part somehow if it kills me. Hullo, I +say! There's Chris calling! Hadn't we better go?" + +He was plainly desirous to end the interview, and Mordaunt did not seek +to prolong it. "Come along, then!" he said. And they went out together +arm-in-arm to join the group upon the lawn. + +Two hours later, just before Rupert and his friends started upon their +return journey, Bertrand happened to enter Mordaunt's writing-room, and +was surprised to find the eldest Wyndham standing by the table with a +glass of whisky-and-soda to his lips. + +The surprise was mutual, and on Rupert's side so violent that he dropped +the glass, which shivered upon the floor. He uttered a fierce exclamation +as he recognized the intruder. + +Bertrand was profuse in his apologies. "But I had no idea that there was +anyone here! A thousand pardons, Mr. Wyndham! It was unfortunate--but +very unfortunate. I am come only for Mr. Mordaunt's keys, which he left +here by accident. I will ring for Holmes. He will remove this _débris_. +And you will have another drink, yes?" + +"I can't wait," Rupert said, almost inarticulately. + +He remained standing at the table trying to compose himself, but he was +white to the lips. + +Bertrand regarded him with quick concern. "Ah, but how I have alarmed +you!" he said. "My shoes are of canvas, and they make no sound. Will you, +then, sit down for a moment, while I pour out another glass of whisky?" + +He drew forward a chair with much solicitude, and took up a fresh glass. +But Rupert swung away, turning his back upon him. + +Prom the front of the house came the hoot of the waiting motor. Plainly +his comrades were waxing impatient. + +"But you will drink before you go?" urged the courteous Frenchman. "I am +desolated to have deprived you--" + +Rupert turned his face for an instant over his shoulder. It was no longer +white, but crimson and convulsed with anger. His hands were clenched. + +"Oh, go to the devil!" he cried violently, and with the words stamped +furiously from the room. + +Bertrand was left staring after him, petrified with amazement--too +astounded to be angry. + +At the end of a lengthy pause he turned and pocketed Mordaunt's keys, and +rang the bell for Holmes to clear up the mess on the floor. + +"_Mais ces anglais_!" he murmured to himself, with a whimsical shrug of +the shoulders. "_Comme ils sont drôles_!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ENEMY + + +Mrs. Pouncefort's garden-party was an annual affair of some importance to +which everyone, from the County downwards, was bidden, and from which +very few absented themselves. + +The Pouncefort entertainments were generally upon a lavish scale, were +also largely attended by the military element of Sandacre society, and +were invariably described in the local journals as "very smart affairs." + +Had Chris been in her normal spirits she would have hailed the occasion +with delight. She knew a good many people in the neighbourhood, and she +was sure to meet all her friends there. It was, moreover, for this that +she had successfully angled for an invitation for Bertrand. But when the +day came she would have given a good deal for a legitimate excuse for +remaining at home. The weather was hot, and she felt weary and +disinclined for gaiety. + +She said no word of her reluctance, however, for Bertrand had accepted +his inclusion in the invitation with docility, and since she had decided +that a little social change would be good for him, she would not draw +back herself lest he should be tempted to do likewise. + +Bertrand was her chief thought just then. She knew that her husband was +dissatisfied with regard to his health, and undoubtedly he looked far +from well, though he himself invariably declared that it was only the +heat, and persistently refused to see a doctor. Not even Chris could +shake this resolution of his, and he was so distressed when Mordaunt +would not let him work that to keep him quiet Mordaunt was obliged to let +him do a little. He made it as little as he could, however, and Bertrand +spent a good deal of his time in the garden with Chris in consequence. + +It certainly cheered her to have him, and for that reason he was the less +inclined to rebel against the edict that sent him there. They had begun +to read French together, Chris having developed a sudden keenness for the +language which he was delighted to encourage. That the original idea had +been devised for his pleasure he shrewdly suspected, but the carrying out +of it contributed undoubtedly to her own. It occupied her thoughts and +energies, and that was what she needed just then. + +He knew perfectly well that she was as disinclined for social amusements +as he was himself, but the same motive that prompted her urged him also. +Each went with reluctance, but without protest. + +Noel, who had achieved the most saintlike behaviour during the past week, +went also. He made an ingratiating attempt at the last moment to persuade +Mordaunt to let him drive. But Mordaunt was as adamant upon that point. +He had issued a decree that Noel should drive no more during the summer +holidays, and he meant to keep to it. + +The prohibition did not extend to Chris, but she had shuddered at the +bare mention of the motor ever since the accident, and he knew that she +had not the faintest desire left to enlarge her experience in driving. + +She was the last to leave the house on that sultry August afternoon, and +Mordaunt saw at once that the ordeal of entering the car was a severe +one. She even turned so white at the sight of it that he feared a +breakdown. + +"Come and sit with me," he said kindly. + +She looked at him with a quick shake of the head. "No, I'll sit behind +with Bertie if I may. Noel can sit with you." + +Noel, who was already in the back seat, climbed over like a monkey, and +Bertrand handed her in. + +She sat very rigid until they were out of the avenue, and Bertrand was +silent also. But as they turned into the road he began to talk, gently +and persuasively, upon indifferent things, resolutely passing by her +silence until with a wan little smile she managed to respond. + +Long before they reached Sandacre she had quite recovered her +self-command, and the flash of the sea upon the horizon brought from her +a quick exclamation of pleasure. + +"Ah, yes, it is beautiful, that!" he agreed with enthusiasm. "And there +is the sand there, yes?" + +She nodded. "I used to think we'd go and picnic there. But I don't think +I want to now." + +"Next year," suggested Mordaunt, without turning his head. + +"Perhaps," she said, a little dubiously. + +Bertrand said nothing. He was looking out to the wide horizon with a far +look in his eyes, almost as though he saw beyond that sparkling sky-line, +even beyond the sea itself. + +The strains of the military band from Sandacre reached them as they +turned in at the wide-flung gates. Chris's eyes kindled almost in spite +of her. She loved all things military. + +As for Bertrand, he sat bolt upright, with his head back, like a horse +scenting battle. Glancing at him, Chris wondered at his attitude, till +suddenly she recognized the strains of the Marseillaise. + +She squeezed his hand in sympathy as he helped her to alight, and he +looked at her with his quick smile of understanding. He was ever swift to +catch her meaning. + +They crossed a lawn that was crowded with people to a great cedar-tree, +beneath which their hostess was receiving her guests. A large woman with +a lazy smile was Mrs. Pouncefort, and wonderful dark eyes that were +seldom wholly revealed--a woman who took no pains to please and yet whose +charm was undeniable. Her monarchy was absolute and her courtiers many, +but other women looked at her askance, half-conscious of a veiled +antagonism. They were a little afraid of her also, though not one could +have said why, since no bitter word was ever heard to pass her lips. + +She greeted Chris with a cold, limp hand. "So nice of you to come. I hope +you won't be bored. Ah, Mr. Mordaunt, how is Kellerton Old Park by this +time? I hardly recognized it the day I called. Rupert tells me you have +worked wonders inside as well as out." + +"May I introduce our friend Monsieur Bertrand?" said Chris. + +Bertrand brought his heels together and bowed low over the limp hand +transferred to his. Mrs. Pouncefort smiled. + +"There is a fellow-countryman of yours here. Where has he gone? Ah, there +you are! Captain Rodolphe, let me introduce you to Mrs. Mordaunt and her +French friend Monsieur Bertrand." + +She extended one finger to Noel while making the introduction, and at +once turned her attention elsewhere. + +Chris found herself face to face with a heavy-browed man with an +overbearing demeanour and a mouth and chin that sneered perpetually +behind a waxed moustache and imperial. She stared at him for an instant +with a bewildered feeling of having seen him somewhere before. Then, as +she returned his bow, a stab of recognition pierced her, and she +remembered where. + +It flashed into her mind like a picture thrown upon a screen--that scene +upon the sands of Valpré long, long ago, two men fighting with swords +that gleamed in the sunlight, a child drawing near with wondering eyes to +behold the conflict, and an unruly black terrier scampering to end it! + +"I am delighted to make your acquaintance," declared Captain Rodolphe, +"and that of your friend--M. Bertrand?" + +He uttered the name interrogatively. Bertrand bowed very slightly, very +stiffly, and was instantly erect again. "That is my name," he said, as he +looked the other straight in the eyes. + +Captain Rodolphe was smiling. "I think we have not met before? It is +always a pleasure to meet a fellow-countryman in a strange land. That is +well understood, is it not, Mrs. Mordaunt?" + +His smooth speech brought her back to a situation that was not without +serious difficulties, difficulties which he for one was apparently +determined to ignore. Had he recognized her, she wondered? It seemed +probable that he had not. But then there was nothing in his manner to +indicate that he had recognized Bertrand either; yet of that there could +be no doubt. + +She heard her husband speaking to an acquaintance behind her, and +instinctively she began to move away from him. She did not feel equal to +effecting an introduction. She murmured something conventional about the +gardens, and Captain Rodolphe at once accompanied her. + +Bertrand walked in silence on her other side till, with an obvious +effort, Chris included him in the conversation, when he responded +instantly, with that ready ease of manner which had first drawn her to +rely upon him. But though he showed himself quite willing, as ever, to +help her, he did not once on his own initiative address the man who had +been introduced for his benefit; and Chris, aware of an atmosphere that +was highly charged with electricity, notwithstanding its apparent calm, +began to cast about for a means of escape therefrom. + +To rid herself of Captain Rodolphe was her first idea, but this was +easier of thought than accomplishment. He was chatting serenely, in +perfect English, and seemed to have taken upon himself the congenial task +of entertaining her for some time to come. He also did not directly +address her companion, unless she brought them into contact, and her +efforts in this direction very speedily flagged. She could not expect two +men, however courteous, to forget all in a moment the bitter enmity of +years merely to oblige her. They were quite ready to ignore it in her +presence, but the consciousness of it was more than Chris could endure +with equanimity. It disconcerted her at every turn. She felt as if she +trod the edge of a volcano, and her nerves, which had been so severely +strained for the past week, could not face this fresh ordeal. + +She turned at last in desperation, almost appealingly, to Bertrand. She +knew he would understand. Had he ever failed her in this respect or in +any other? + +"Do you mind going to see if I have dropped my handkerchief in the car?" +she asked him, with a nervous smile. + +His smile answered hers. Yes, he understood. "I shall go with pleasure," +he said, and with a quick bow was gone. + +Chris breathed a little sigh of relief, and moved on with her escort into +the rose-garden. + +He seemed scarcely aware of Bertrand's departure. He was plainly +engrossed in the pleasant pastime of conversing with her. Chris began to +give him more of her attention. No, she certainly did not like the man. +His sneer and his self-assurance disturbed her. He made her uncomfortably +conscious of her own youth and inexperience. She almost felt as if he +were playing with her. + +He talked at some length upon roses, a subject upon which he seemed to be +well informed, listened tolerantly to any remarks she made, and finally +conducted her to a long shrubbery that led back to the lawn. + +As they entered this, he lightly wound up the thread of his discourse and +broke it off. "I have been wondering for long," he said, "where it was +that I had seen you before. Now I remember." + +She turned a startled face towards him. He was smiling with extreme +complacence, but there was to her something sinister, something even +threatening, about the bushy brows that shadowed his gleaming eyes. He +put her in mind of a carrion-crow searching for treasures on a heap of +refuse. + +The impulse to deny all knowledge of him seized her--a blind impulse, +blindly followed. "I think you must be mistaken," she said. + +"How?" he ejaculated. "You do not remember Valpré--and what happened +there?" + +She saw her mistake on the instant, and hastened to cover it. "Valpré!" +she said, frowning a little. "Yes, I remember Valpré, though it is years +since I was there. But you--did I meet you at Valpré, Captain Rodolphe?" + +He bowed with a gallantry that seemed to her exaggerated. "Only once, +madame, but that once was enough to stamp you ineffaceably upon my +memory. It was, in fact, a memorable occasion. And I forget--never!" +Again with _empressement_ he bowed. "And still you do not remember me?" +he said. + +There was a mocking glint in his eyes. It was as though with a smile he +weighed her resistance, displaying it to herself as a quantity wholly +negligible. + +"I think you begin to remember now," he suggested. + +And quite suddenly Chris saw what he had with subtlety set about teaching +her, that to attempt to fence with him was useless. + +"Yes, I remember," she said, and there was a hint of most unwonted malice +in her capitulation. "Didn't I see you wounded in a duel?" + +He smiled, and she saw his teeth. "If my memory be correct it was to +madame herself that I owed that wound." + +She felt the quick blood rush to her face. He had spoken with _double +entendre_, but she did not perceive it until too late. She only +remembered suddenly and overwhelmingly that the duel had been fought on +her account, because of some evil word which this man had spoken of her +in Bertrand's hearing. She could well believe it of him--the sneering +laugh, the light allusion, the hateful insinuation underlying it. She +was beginning to look upon the evil of the world with comprehending +eyes--she, Chris, the gay of heart, the happy bird of Bertrand's paradise +whom no evil had ever touched. And though she shrank from it as one +dreading pollution, she dared not turn her back. + +He went on with more daring mockery, still with lips that smiled. "Ah! I +see you remember. That duel was an affair of interest to you, _hein_? You +were--the woman in the case." + +He leered at her intolerably, twisting his moustache. + +But that was more than Chris could endure. He had taken her by surprise +indeed, but he should not see her routed thus easily. She lifted her +dainty head and confronted him with pride. + +"Whatever the cause of the duel," she said very distinctly, "it was no +concern of mine, and it was by the merest accident that I witnessed it. +But in any case it is not a matter of sufficient importance to discuss +now. Shall we go on?" + +She put the question abruptly, with a little inward tremor, for the path +was narrow and he had come to a stand immediately in front of her. He +made a slight movement as if deprecating the obligation to detain her. +His eyes were suddenly very evil and so intent that she could not avoid +them. Yet still he smiled as though the situation amused him. + +"But you joke!" he protested, with a snap of the fingers. "I did not +suggest that it could be a matter of importance. It was all a +_bagatelle_, a fairy-tale, that should not have had so serious an end. +And your husband--he has heard the fairy-tale also? Or was it not of +sufficient importance to recount to him?" + +She would have turned from him at that, even though it had meant +ignominious flight, but his eyes held her, and she dared not. She could +only stand motionless, feeling her very heart grow cold. + +Softly, jeeringly, he went on, still toying with the moustache that did +not hide his smiling lips. "You have not told him yet? Ah! but it would +amuse him. That night you passed with the fairies, a siren among the +sirens, has he never heard of that? But you should tell him that! Or was +it perhaps only a joke _à deux_, and not _à trois_? I have heard that the +English husband can be strict, and you have found it so to your cost, +_hein_?" + +Her eyes blazed at the insult. For the first time in her life Chris was +so possessed by fury as to be actually sublime. She drew herself to her +full height. She met his mockery fearlessly, and, with a royal disregard +of consequences, she trod it underfoot. + +"Captain Rodolphe, be good enough to let me pass!" + +He stood aside instantly. He was even momentarily abashed. He had not +expected his game to end thus. She had seemed such an easy prey, this +English girl. Her discomfiture had been almost too obvious. He certainly +had not deemed her capable of this display of spirit. + +Yet in a moment, even as, erect and disdainful, she passed him by, he was +smiling again, a secret, subtle smile which she felt rather than saw. +Emerging into the hot sunshine that beat upon the crowded lawn, she knew +herself to be cold from head to foot. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE THIN END + + +"Good-bye!" said Mrs. Pouncefort. "So glad you came. I hope you haven't +been bored." + +"Bored to extinction," murmured Noel. "Hi, Trevor! Let me drive, like a +good chap. Do!" + +"Certainly not," said Mordaunt, with decision. "You are going to sit +behind. We shall meet the wind now, and Chris must come in front; it is +more sheltered." + +Chris submitted to this arrangement in silence. She was looking very +tired. Her husband regarded her keenly as he tucked her in, but he said +nothing. + +"What do you think of Mrs. Pouncefort's latest?" grinned Noel, as they +spun along the high-road. "I never met such a facetious brute in my life. +How did you like him, Bertrand?" + +"Who?" said Bertrand somewhat curtly. + +"What did they call him--Rodolphe, wasn't it? That French chap with the +beastly little beard." + +"I did not like him," said Bertrand, with precision. + +"That's all right," said Noel approvingly. "But he's reigning favourite +with Mrs. Pouncefort, anyone can see with half an eye. Rum, isn't it? +And little Pouncefort puts up with it like a lamb. But they say he's +just as bad. Daresay he is, though he's quite a decent little beggar to +talk to. I can't stand Mrs. Pouncefort at any price, while as for that +Frenchman"--he made a hideous grimace--"I'm glad you are not all alike, +Bertrand!" + +Bertrand responded to the compliment without elation. He seemed +preoccupied, and Noel, finding him uninteresting, turned his cheerful +attention elsewhere. + +Letters awaited them upon their return. Chris took up hers with scarcely +a glance, and went up to her room. + +Her husband, following a little later, found her sitting on a couch by +the window, perusing them. She glanced up at his entrance. + +"I have a letter from Aunt Philippa. She thinks we must be quite settled +by this time, and she wants to spend a day or two here next week, before +she goes to Scotland." + +"I suppose we can put up with her for a day or two," said Mordaunt. + +Her smile was slightly strained as she returned to the letter. "I suppose +we shall have to." + +He came and stood beside her, looking down at her bent head. The +burnished hair shone warmly golden in the evening sunlight. He laid a +quiet hand upon it. She started at his touch, and then sat very still. + +"I have heard from Hilda too," she said, after a moment. "They are +staying at Graysdale. Percy fishes all day and she sketches, when they +are not motoring. It was very sweet of her to write by return." + +A tear fell suddenly upon the open page. She covered it hastily with her +hand. Her husband's pressed her head very tenderly. + +"Chris," he said gently, "I wonder if you would like to go away for a +little?" + +She glanced up quickly, eagerly, with wet lashes. "Oh, Trevor!" she +breathed. + +He sat down beside her on the couch. "We will go to-morrow if you like," +he said. + +She slipped her hand into his. "I should love it!" + +"Would you?" he said. "I have been thinking of it for some days, but I +wasn't sure you would care for the idea." + +"But your work?" she said. "Those articles you wanted to finish? And that +political book of yours? And the alterations in the north wing, will they +be able to get on with those with you away?" + +"The literary work must stand over for a week or two," he said. "I shall +leave Bertrand in charge of the rest." + +"Bertrand!" She opened her blue eyes wide. "But--but he would be away, +wouldn't he?" Then quickly: "He would go with us, of course? You didn't +mean to leave him behind?" + +He raised his brows ever so slightly. "I meant just us two, dear," he +said. "Wouldn't you care for that?" + +"Oh!" said Chris blankly. "But, Trevor, we couldn't possibly leave him. +He isn't well. I--I shouldn't be happy about him. Besides--besides--" Her +words faltered under his straight look; she made a little appealing +gesture towards him. "Please understand," she said. + +He took both her hands into his. "My dear, I do understand," he said, +with the utmost kindness. "But I think he can be trusted to take care of +himself for a little while. If you have any doubts upon the subject, ask +him." + +She shook her head. "No, it wouldn't do. I--I'd really rather not go away +if it means--that. Besides, there is Noel. And next week there will be +Aunt Philippa. I think we had better give up the idea, Trevor; I do +really, anyhow for the present." She leaned nearer to him; her eyes +looked pleadingly into his. "Say you don't mind," she begged him, a +little tremulously. + +"I am only thinking of you, dear," he answered. + +She smiled with lips that quivered. "Well, don't think of me--at least, +not too much. I only want you just to be kind to me, that's all. I--I +shall be myself presently. You're very good to be so patient." + +Her lips were lifted to his. He bent and kissed her. But as he went +gravely away she had a feeling that she had disappointed him, and her +heart grew a little heavier in consequence. + +The sound of the piano in the drawing-room brought her down earlier than +usual for dinner, and she found Bertrand playing softly to himself in the +twilight. He had a delicate touch, and she always loved to hear him. + +She had with difficulty trained him not to spring up at her entrance, but +to-day he turned sharply round. + +"Christine, what did that _scélérat_ say to you?" + +The abruptness of his speech did not disconcert her. She was never ill at +ease with Bertrand, however sudden his mood. She came to the piano, and +stood facing him in the dusk. + +"He recognized me," she said. + +"Ah!" Bertrand's exclamation was deep in his throat, like the growl of an +angry dog. "And he said--?" + +Chris hesitated. + +Instantly his manner changed. He stretched out a quick hand. "Pardon my +impatience! You will tell me what he said?" + +Yet still she hesitated. His impetuosity had warned her to go warily if +she would not have him embroiling himself in another quarrel for her +sake. + +"It doesn't matter much, does it?" she said, rather wearily. "I wasn't +with him very long--no longer than I could help. He was objectionable, of +course, but that sort of man couldn't be anything else, could he?" + +"Tell me what he said," insisted Bertrand inexorably. + +But still she hedged, trying to temper his wrath. "He didn't tell me +anything new. I have known--for some time now--why you fought that duel." + +"Ah! You know that? But how?" + +She smiled wanly. "You forget I'm growing up, Bertie." + +He winced at that suddenly and sharply, but he made no verbal protest. +Only in the silence that followed there was something passionate, +something which she never remembered to have encountered before in her +dealings with him. + +At the end of a long pause he spoke, with obvious constraint. "And you +will not tell me what he said?" + +"Is it worth while?" said Chris. "I daresay we shall never see him +again." + +"He insulted you, no?" said Bertrand. + +She yielded, half-involuntarily, to his persistence. "He made +some--rather horrid--insinuations. He spoke of the duel and of what +happened at Valpré. And he asked--he asked if--Trevor knew." + +A fierce oath burst headlong from Bertrand, the first she had ever heard +him utter. He apologized for it instantly, almost in the same breath, but +she was startled by the violence of it none the less, so startled that +she decided then and there that, if she would keep the peace between him +and his enemy, she must confide in him no further. + +"But that was really all," she hastened to assure him. "I left him then, +and--and I think we had better forget it, Bertie. Promise me you will." + +He took the persuasive hand she laid upon his arm, but for several +seconds he did not speak. It seemed as if he could not trust himself to +do so. + +At last, "Christine," he said, "I think that your husband ought to know." + +She started at the words, almost snatching her hand from him. "Bertie! +What do you mean? Know of what?" + +He answered her with great steadiness; his eyes met hers unwaveringly. +"Of that which happened at Valpré," he said. + +She gazed at him in growing consternation. "Bertie, how--are you +mad?--how could I tell him that?" + +"With your permission, I will tell him," he said resolutely. + +But she cried out at that, almost as if he had hurt her: "Oh no, no, +never! Why should he know now? Don't you see how impossible it is? If I +had ever meant to tell him, it ought to have been long ago." + +"Yes," said Bertrand. + +The quietness of his tone only agitated her still further. His evident +determination terrified her. In that moment all her fear of her husband +rose to towering proportions, a monster she dared not even contemplate. +She clasped Bertrand's arm between her hands in wild, unreasoning +supplication. + +"Oh, you must not--you shall not! Bertie, you won't, will you? Promise +me you won't--promise me! He wouldn't understand. He would want to know +why I had never told him before. He would--he would--" + +"Ah! but I would explain," Bertrand protested gently. + +"But you couldn't! He would ask questions--questions I couldn't possibly +answer. If he didn't say them he would look them. And his eyes are so +terribly keen. They frighten me. They see--everything." + +"But, _chérie_," he reasoned, "they could not see what is not there. You +have nothing to hide from him. You have no shame. Why, then, have you +fear?" + +"I don't know," gasped Chris. "Only I know that he would never +understand. He would think--he would think--" + +"He would think that we have been--pals--for as long as we have known +each other," said Bertrand soothingly. "He knows it already. It is true, +is it not?" + +But Chris's eyes had been opened too suddenly and tragically. Her sense +of proportion was still undeveloped. "Yes, but he would never see it. You +could never explain to him so that he would understand. He would think I +had been deceiving him. He would think--Bertie, he would think"--her eyes +dilated, and she drew in her breath sharply--"that--that you and I ought +not to be friends any longer. Oh, don't tell him--please don't tell him. +Indeed I am right. He trusts you, and--and he trusts me. But he wouldn't +trust either of us any longer if he knew." + +"Christine! Christine!" + +"It is true," she asserted feverishly. "You don't know him as I do. Oh +no, he has never been hard to me. But he could be hard. And he wouldn't +forgive me--if he thought I had been hiding anything. Bertie, Bertie, you +won't do it? Say you won't do it!" + +"I do nothing without your consent," Bertrand answered quietly. "But I +think that it is a mistake. I think--" + +"Oh, thank you!" she broke in earnestly. "I know I can rely upon you to +keep your word. I can, can't I?" + +He smiled at a question which he would have borne from no other. "Until +death, Christine," he said. + +Her hands fell away from his arm. She was shaking all over. "I know I'm +foolish," she said. "I can't help it. I was made so. And when Trevor +begins to ask questions--" She broke off nervously. "What is that?" + +A leisurely footfall sounded in the hall, a quiet hand pressed the +electric switch by the door, and the room was flooded with light. + +"Oh, don't!" Chris cried out sharply. "Don't!" + +She put her hands over her face as if dazzled, and so stood quivering. + +"What is it?" Mordaunt asked. "Did I startle you?" + +He came to her. He drew her hands gently down. But she almost cowered +before him, and he let her go. + +"I think that she is tired," Bertrand said, his voice very low. + +"Is that all?" Mordaunt asked, looking at him. + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders, and made no reply. But Chris turned +at the question, turned and confronted her husband with wide, scared +eyes. + +"Yes, I am tired," she said, speaking jerkily, breathlessly. "But--but I +was startled too. I--I thought I heard Cinders--barking." + +It was the first time she had ever deliberately lied to him, and her eyes +met his full as she did it in desperate self-defence. + +He looked at her very steadily for the space of several seconds after she +had spoken, and in the silence Bertrand's hands clenched hard. + +Quietly at length Mordaunt turned round to him. "Don't let me interrupt +you," he said. "You were playing, weren't you? Chris and I are good +listeners." + +He took his wife's cold hand, and drew her to the sofa; and Bertrand, +seeing there was nothing else to be done, turned back to the piano and +resumed his playing. + +Not another word was spoken by any of them until Noel came upon the +scene, and airily dispelled the silence before he was aware of it. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ENEMY MOVES + + +"And you mean to say that this French secretary of Trevor's actually +lives in the house?" said Aunt Philippa. + +"But of course he does," said Chris, opening her eyes wide. + +"And is Trevor never away?" demanded Aunt Philippa. + +"He hasn't been, but he talks of spending a night in town next week." + +"And you will go with him?" + +"No, I don't think so. It's too hot." + +"Then I presume M. Bertrand will?" + +Chris flushed a little. "I don't suppose so. He is feeling the heat too." +She stretched up her hands above her head. "How I wish it would rain!" + +Aunt Philippa continued her knitting severely in silence. They were +sitting on the terrace awaiting the luncheon-hour. Across the garden came +Noel's shrill whistle, and instinctively, before she remembered her +aunt's presence, Chris answered it. The boy appeared at the farther end +of the long lawn, and came racing towards them. + +"Just seen the postman, Chris. Here's a letter for you--such a horrible +fist, Sandacre post-mark, and sealed. Wonder who it's from?" + +He leaned against her chair to recover his breath and regarded the +envelope he held with frank interest. + +Chris stretched up her hand for it. "I expect it's from Mrs. Pouncefort." + +"Mrs. Pouncefort doesn't write like that!" protested Noel. "No woman +could." + +"May I have it?" said Chris. + +He put it into her hand, but he still leaned against her chair. "Be quick +and open it, I say! It looks important." + +"I don't suppose it is," said Chris; but she opened it notwithstanding +with some curiosity. + +Aunt Philippa had arrived only the night before, but she was already very +tired of her society, and any diversion was welcome. + +"You don't mind?" she murmured to her aunt. + +Her eyes were already upon the first page as she spoke. She frowned over +the unfamiliar handwriting. + +Noel studied it also over her shoulder. "What on earth--" he began. + +She looked up suddenly, and crumpled the paper in her hand. "Noel, go +away! How dare you!" + +He stared at her in amazement. A sharp word from Chris was most unusual. +Aunt Philippa looked up also. + +"My dear girl, it isn't private, is it?" said Noel. + +Chris was scarlet. She seemed to breathe with difficulty. "Of course it's +private! All my letters are private!" + +"But it comes from the Pounceforts," objected Noel. "I saw 'Sandacre +Court' at the top of the page." + +Chris sprang to her feet impetuously with blazing eyes. "And what if it +does? You had no right to look over me. It was a hateful thing to do. +What if it does come from Mrs. Pouncefort? Is it mine any the less for +that?" + +"Oh, don't get huffy!" remonstrated Noel. "Look at you! Anyone would +think you had got the palsy. But you needn't pretend it's from Mrs. +Pouncefort, because I know better." + +"It--it is from Mrs. Pouncefort!" declared Chris. + +"Which is a lie," rejoined Noel, with the utmost calmness. "I know you, +my dear girl, I know you. You've told 'em before." + +"Noel!" Aunt Philippa interposed her voice with extreme dignity. "You +forget yourself. If you cannot speak with ordinary courtesy, be good +enough to leave us." + +Noel heeded the remonstrance no more than if it had been the buzzing of a +fly. Chris's spark of temper had kindled his. + +"Oh, you can swear it's the truth till all's blue," he declared, raising +his voice recklessly. "But that doesn't make it so. In fact, it only +makes the contrary all the more likely. Besides, you know you do lie, +Chris, so you needn't deny it." + +"Noel!" + +It was not Aunt Philippa's voice this time, and it had in it so firm a +note of authority that instinctively Noel turned. + +Mordaunt, just returned from a ride, was standing in his shirt-sleeves at +an open window above them. All the colour went out of Chris's face at +sight of him, but he did not look at her. + +"Come up here," he said to Noel. "I want to speak to you." + +"Not coming," said Noel promptly. + +"Come up here," Mordaunt repeated. + +"What for?" Noel looked up at him, hands in pockets. "You'll be late for +lunch if you don't buck up," he remarked, with a smile of cheery +impudence. + +His brother-in-law's face did not reflect his smile. It was grimly +determined. "Come up here," he said again. + +"Do go, Noel," Chris murmured uneasily. + +"I won't," said Noel doggedly. "I'm not going to be pitched into for +nothing. It was you who told the lie, not me." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" exclaimed Chris, in a fever of impatience. "Surely +you're not afraid of him!" + +"Anyone can see you are," retorted Noel. "I'll bet you daren't go +yourself!" + +She turned from him sharply without another word, and entered the house. + +She met her husband on the threshold of his room, and pushed him +impulsively back, her hands against his breast. + +"Trevor, please don't be angry with him. He--we often go on like that. +There is nothing to be angry about--indeed." + +He took her hands and held them. She was panting a little; he waited +while she recovered herself. Then, "Chris," he said very gently, "don't +you think it is time you left off being afraid of me?" + +"But when you are angry--" murmured Chris. + +"You have never seen me angry yet." + +"You are not angry with Noel?" she asked quickly. + +He smiled a little. "My dear child, Noel is no more capable of making me +angry than that fly on the ceiling. But I am not going to have him +behaving badly for all that." + +"But he didn't," she urged, in distress. "It was all my fault. +Trevor--Trevor, please don't say any more! He was quite right. I--I +didn't tell the truth." + +She made the confession in a broken whisper, with her face hidden against +him. But a moment later she had sprung away in haste, for there came the +clatter of careless feet upon the stairs, and Noel dashed suddenly upon +the scene. + +"Oh, I say, do stop jawing and come down," he said as he presented +himself. "Poor Aunt Phil is ravenous for her lunch. What do you want me +for, Trevor?" + +But Mordaunt turned his back abruptly. "I don't want you now," he said. +"You can go." + +"Dash it!" Noel said. "What a rotter you are!" He flung himself full +length upon the window-seat with elaborate nonchalance. "Run along, +Chris," he said. "We're going to talk politics. Shut the door after you. +That's right. Now, my good brother-in-law, what can I do for you?" + +He sat up to slay a wasp on the window-pane, flicked the corpse in +Mordaunt's direction with airy adroitness, and lay down again. + +"Are you in a wax over anything?" he inquired, with a yawn. + +Mordaunt turned quietly round. "Get up!" he said. + +Noel laughed up at him engagingly. "You can't kick me so easily lying +down, can you? But what do you want to kick me for? I'm quite harmless." + +"I am not going to kick you," Mordaunt said. "It is not my way." + +"All right, then. Why didn't you say so before?" Noel sat up and regarded +him with interest. "Well?" he said at the end of an expectant pause. +"Let's have it, man, and have done!" + +"I have nothing to give you," Mordaunt returned. "I told you you could +go." + +Something in the tone rather than the words caught Noel's attention. He +bounced suddenly from his lounging attitude to Mordaunt's side, and +thrust an affectionate arm about his shoulders. + +"What's the matter, old chap? You look as if you had found sixpence and +lost half a crown." + +"Perhaps I have," Mordaunt returned grimly. + +He did not repulse the friendly overture; that also was not his way. But +neither did he respond to it. He stood passive, looking out over the park +with unobservant eyes. + +"Cheer up, I say," urged Noel. "You're such a rattling good chap, you +know. I'm getting awfully fond of you." + +"Much obliged," said Mordaunt; but he did not seem highly gratified. In +fact, his thoughts were plainly elsewhere. + +Noel, however, would not be satisfied with this. "What are you grizzling +about?" he said. "Tell a fellow!" + +Mordaunt's eyes came down to him. "I wish you Wyndhams had a little sense +of honour," he said. + +"Oh, is that it?" said Noel. "Well, we are not top-heavy in that respect, +I own. But, after all, it's not worth worrying about. We get on very +nicely without it. And we wouldn't any of us sell a friend." + +"I'm glad to know you draw the line somewhere," Mordaunt observed. + +"Oh, rather! I wouldn't chouse you for the world. Chris wouldn't either. +But we're both shy of you, you know, because you're so beastly moral." He +gave his brother-in-law a warm hug to soften the effect of his words. +"You may as well tell me what you wanted to say to me just now," he +remarked. + +"I was going to request you to behave like a gentleman," Mordaunt +returned. "But as you don't seem to know what that means--" He paused, +looking straight into the Irish eyes that met his with such sublime +assurance. "Do you know what it means, Noel?" he asked. + +Noel grinned. "You can take me in hand and teach me if it isn't too much +trouble. I suppose you didn't like me to tell Chris she was lying about +that letter. But she was, you know. There's no getting away from that +fact, even if she is your wife." + +"I'm not trying to get away from facts," Mordaunt said. "But I do +object--strongly--to discourtesy. You may be her brother, but that +doesn't entitle you to insult her. Plainly, I won't have it from you or +anyone." + +"I didn't insult her," declared Noel. "I only said I knew she was telling +a cram. She knew it too." + +"I know what you said," Mordaunt returned with brevity. "And you are not +to say it again. Also, I must ask you to bear in mind that when I say a +thing I mean it--invariably. I've had more than enough disobedience from +you lately." + +"Oh, I say," said Noel, winking gaily, "you don't want much, do you?" + +Mordaunt relaxed a little. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder for a +moment. "You can be quite a good chap if you try," he said. + +Noel responded like a dog to a caress. "The mischief is to keep it up," +he said. "But we won't quarrel anyhow. I'll make every allowance for you, +old boy, for you're in a beastly unhealthy position; and you'll have to +do the same--savvy? But for all that, that letter was no more written by +Mrs. Pouncefort than by the man in the moon." + +"That letter," Mordaunt said very deliberately, "is neither your affair +nor mine." + +Could he have seen Chris at that moment he might have changed his mind +upon that point, but her young brother's careless chatter kept him from +seeking her; nor would he very readily have found her had he done so. + +For Chris was securely locked in a little room at the top of the house +that had been her childhood's bedroom, and here with blanched face and +hands that shook she was reading and reading again the letter that had +given rise to so much discussion. + +The handwriting was cramped and erratic, wholly unfamiliar, barely +decipherable; but she had mastered the contents with tragic dexterity. +Her understanding had leaped to the words. + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR MRS. MORDAUNT," so went the letter, "You have probably forgotten +my existence by this time, and it is with the utmost humility that I +venture to recall it to your memory. For myself, it will always be a +lasting pleasure to have met you again, and the fact that I share with +you a secret of other days cannot but prove a bond between us. That +secret I am prepared to guard faithfully, since--apparently--it is of +value, if you on your part are ready to purchase my discretion with that +of which all have need, but of which I temporarily am unhappily +deficient. Briefly, madame, for the sum of five hundred pounds I will +undertake that the episode of Valpré shall be consigned to oblivion so +far as I am concerned. Otherwise, the strict husband may hear more than +you have considered it convenient to tell him. + +"Yours, with many compliments, +GUILLAUME RODOLPHE." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A WARNING VOICE + + +Five hundred pounds! Five hundred pounds! It represented her year's +income to Chris. + +All night long she lay wide-eyed and still, facing her problem with a +quaking heart. It was like a suffocating weight upon her, crushing her +down. Five hundred pounds! And the need thereof so urgent that it must be +dealt with at once! But how to obtain it? How? How? + +All through the dark hours she lay revolving the matter, questioning this +way and that, bound hand and foot, yet not daring to contemplate the only +sane means at her disposal of obtaining freedom. To tell her husband the +simple truth, to throw herself unreservedly upon his generosity, to beg +his forgiveness and his help--these were the things she could not do. As +a matter of fact the truth had been so magnified by her fevered fancy +that it had begun to appear monstrous even in her own eyes. Those far-off +happenings at Valpré had become a dream with a nightmare ending. Not even +Aunt Philippa could have distorted them to a more exaggerated semblance +of evil. And to go to her husband now with such a story was utterly +beyond Chris's powers of accomplishment. She lacked the courage to speak +with simplicity and candour, and she was painfully aware that to give a +halting account of the matter would be infinitely more dangerous than to +keep silence. Already her husband's faith in her veracity had been +shaken. Was it likely that he would accept unquestioning her assurance +that this matter, which she had rigorously suppressed for so long and +which she only imparted to him now under compulsion, was in reality one +of trivial importance? Would he believe her? Had she ever fostered his +belief in her? Could he in reason do so even if he desired? + +Moreover, there was another obstacle. There was Bertrand. Though he had +offered to speak for her, though he had desired to explain all, and +though she knew that Trevor's faith in him was absolute, yet the presence +of Bertrand in itself made candour impossible. Why this should be she did +not know. It was a problem which she had not attempted to solve. But the +fact remained. She dreaded unspeakably the possibility of having to +describe the intimacy that had existed between herself and Bertrand in +the old, free, Valpré days. She dreaded the keen searching of the grey +eyes that, if they sought long enough, were bound to find her soul, and +not only to find, but to enter it, to penetrate to its most hidden +corner, and to draw out into the full light of day one of her most sacred +possessions. She felt that she could not bear this probing. The very +thought of it was horrible to her, and in connection with it the steady +scrutiny of her husband's eyes became almost a thing abhorrent. Vaguely +she knew, without realizing, that she cherished deep in that inmost +shrine something which he must never see, something that it would be +agony to show him, something that even now gnawed secretly at her +quivering heart. She always shrank from his direct look, though she would +not have him know it. The calm, level gaze frightened her, she knew not +why. Perhaps the secret of all her fear of him lay hidden in this problem +that she dared not face. + +No, she could not endure a full revelation of the truth. Bertrand had +declared that Mordaunt could not discover what was non-existent, but it +was not this that Chris feared. It was something infinitely more +terrible, a floating suspicion that might harden into actual fact at any +moment. + +And so her whole being was concentrated upon avoiding the catastrophe +that instinct warned her to be impending. Everything hung upon the +keeping of that secret which once had seemed to her so small a thing. It +had grown to mighty proportions of late. She did not ask herself +wherefore; but once in the night she smiled a piteous little smile at the +recollection of Manon, the maid-of-all-work, and her story of the spell +that bound all who entered the Magic Cave. She remembered how she had +laughed over it; but Bertrand had not laughed. He had been quite grave; +she remembered that also. He had even spoken as if he believed in it. For +a little her thoughts dwelt upon that night, on the quick confidences he +had poured out, on her own consternation over the nature of his +enterprise, on the words he had uttered then to comfort her. She had +never given them much thought before. To-night, lying by her husband's +side, they returned to her, and for the first time she pondered them +seriously. He had dismissed ambition and success, even the strife of +nations, at a breath. He had been able to do so even then, when he was +nearing the summit of his aspirations. "What are they?" he had said. +"Only a procession that marches under the windows, only a dream in the +midst of a great Reality." + +What had he meant by that? she asked herself, and searched her memory +for more. It came with a curious vividness, a winged message, straight +and sure as an arrow. "We look out above them," he had said, "you and +I"--suddenly she heard the very thrill of his voice, and it pierced her +through and through--"to the great heaven and the sun; and we know that +that is life--the Spark Eternal that nothing can ever quench." Chris did +not ask herself the meaning of that. She hid it away in her heart, +quickly, quickly, lest seeing she should also understand. + +It was very early in the morning when she slipped out of bed, and crept +to the open window to watch the stars fade into the dawning. She would +have liked to pray, but no prayer occurred to her. And so she knelt quite +passive, gazing forth over the dim garden, too tired to think any longer, +yet too miserable to sleep. She did not know that her husband's eyes +gravely watched her throughout her vigil, and when presently she lay down +again she still believed him to be sleeping. + +In the morning inspiration came to Chris. She believed Rupert to be out +of debt, thanks to Trevor's generosity. She would get him to raise the +money for her. She knew he must have ways and means of so doing which +were quite beyond her reach. At least, it seemed her only resource, and +she would try it. + +"Are you quite well, Chris?" her husband asked her when he rose at an +early hour, as was his custom. + +"Quite," said Chris. "Why?" + +She looked at him nervously with heavy-lidded eyes. + +He bent to kiss her before leaving the room. "Don't get up yet," he said +kindly. "Stay in bed and have a sleep." + +"But I--I have slept," she stammered. + +He put the hair gently back from her forehead. "I know all about it," he +said. + +She started away from him in sheer panic. "About what?" she gasped, in a +whisper; then, seeing his brows go up, "Oh, Trevor, I--I'm sorry. No, I +haven't slept very well. But--" + +"I thought not," he interposed quietly. "Well, sleep now, dear." + +He turned to go, but impulsively she caught his hand, held it a moment, +then suddenly put it to her lips. But she would not look at him, would +not even raise her eyes again; and he, after the briefest pause, withdrew +his hand, touched her cheek with it lightly, and so left her. + +When they met again at the breakfast-table she was discussing with Aunt +Philippa the best means of spending the day. Bertrand was not present. He +usually took chocolate at that hour in Mordaunt's room, where he could +continue his secretarial work uninterrupted. Noel was not yet down. + +Chris turned at once to address her husband. "I have had a line +from Max. He is coming down for a few days I think he hasn't been +well--overworking, he says." + +"I can scarcely believe," said Aunt Philippa, with her acid smile, "that +a Wyndham could ever suffer from that complaint." + +"They don't over-rest, anyhow," said Mordaunt, with a glance at his +wife's tired face. "I shall be very pleased to see him, Chris. Write and +tell him so." + +"I don't think I need write," she said. "He will be here this +afternoon. Shall I ask Rupert to come over and dine, so that we can all +be together--that is, if Aunt Philippa doesn't mind?" + +"Pray do not consider me," said Aunt Philippa. + +"Do exactly as you like," said Mordaunt quietly. "Rupert is always +welcome so far as I am concerned." + +Chris rose from the table as he sat down. "I will send him a note at once +if I may, or I shall miss the post." + +"Have you had any breakfast?" he asked, detaining her as she passed his +chair. + +"None at all," said Aunt Philippa. + +"Oh, Aunt Philippa, I have, indeed!" protested Chris, colouring vividly. +"Besides, I'm not hungry." + +"Besides!" echoed Mordaunt, faintly smiling. "Drink a cup of hot milk +before you go." + +She made a wry face. "I can't. I hate it. Please don't keep me!" + +"Then do as you are told," he said. "I thought I ordered you to stay in +bed." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" said Chris; but she went back to her place and +poured out the milk as he desired. + +"Now drink it," he said, with his eyes upon her. + +She obeyed him without further protest, finally setting the cup down with +a sigh of relief. + +Mordaunt rose to open the door. "You are not to do anything energetic +to-day," he said. + +She threw him a smile, half-shy, half-wistful, and departed without +replying. + +He turned back into the room and sat down. "I am not quite satisfied +about Chris," he said. + +"Neither am I," said Aunt Philippa, with unexpected severity. + +He looked at her with awakened attention. "No?" he said courteously. + +"No." Very decidedly came Aunt Philippa's reply. "I intended to speak to +you upon the subject, my dear Trevor, and I am glad that an early +opportunity for so doing has presented itself." + +"You think she looks ill?" Mordaunt asked. + +"Not at all," said Aunt Philippa. "The intense heat we have had lately is +quite sufficient to account for her jaded looks. She has probably also +been fretting unreasonably over the death of her dog. I believe that +animal was the only thing in the world she ever really cared for." + +Mordaunt rested his chin on his hand, and looked at her thoughtfully. +"Indeed!" he said. + +Neither his voice nor his face expressed anything whatever beyond a +decorous gravity. Aunt Philippa began to feel slightly exasperated. + +"She will get over that," she said, with a confidence that held more of +contempt than tolerance. "None of the Wyndhams are fundamentally capable +of taking anything seriously for long. You must have discovered their +instability for yourself by this time." + +"Not with respect to Chris." Was there a hint of sternness underlying the +placidity of the rejoinder? There might have been, but Aunt Philippa was +too intent upon the matter she had taken in hand to notice it. + +"Oh, well," she said, "you haven't been married six weeks yet, have you? +You will see what I mean sooner or later. But you may take it from me +that all of them--Chris included--are without an atom of solidity in +their composition. I warn you, Trevor, very seriously; they are not to be +depended upon." + +Mordaunt heard her without changing his position. His eyes looked +straight at her from under lids that never stirred. "Is that what you +have to say to me?" he asked, after a moment. + +"It leads to what I have to say," returned Aunt Philippa with dignity. + +She was quite in her element now, and enjoying herself far too thoroughly +to be lightly disconcerted. + +"Pray finish!" he said. + +That gave her momentary pause. "I am speaking solely for your welfare," +she told him. + +"I do not question it," he returned. + +Yet even she was aware that his stillness was not all the outcome of +courteous attention. There was about it a restraint which made itself +felt, as it were, in spite of him, a dominance which she set down to his +forceful personality. + +"The subject upon which I chiefly desire to speak a word of warning," she +said, "is the presence in the house--the constant presence--of your young +French secretary." + +"Yes?" said Mordaunt. + +He betrayed no surprise, but the word fell curtly, as if he found himself +face to face with an unpleasant task and desired to be through with it as +quickly as possible. + +Aunt Philippa proceeded with just a hint of caution. "My dear Trevor, +surely you are aware of the danger!" + +"What danger?" + +A difficult question, which Aunt Philippa answered with diplomacy. "Chris +was always something of a flirt." + +"Indeed!" said Mordaunt again. + +His manner was so non-committal that Aunt Philippa began to lose her +patience. "I should have thought that fact was patent to everyone." + +"Never to me," said Chris's husband very deliberately. + +Aunt Philippa smiled. "Then you are remarkably blind, my dear Trevor. +Flightiness has been her chief characteristic all her life. If you have +not yet found that out, I fear she must be deceitful as well." + +"I am not discussing my wife's character," Mordaunt made answer very +steadily. + +"You prefer to shut your eyes to the obvious," said Aunt Philippa, +beginning to be aware of something formidable in her path but not quite +grasping its magnitude. + +"I prefer my own estimate of her to that of anyone else," he made quiet +reply. + +Aunt Philippa made a slight gesture of uneasiness. The steady gaze was +becoming a hard thing to meet. Had the man been less phlegmatic, she +could almost have imagined him to be in a white heat of anger. He was so +unnaturally quiet, his whole being concentrated, as it were, in a +composure that she could not but feel to be ominous. + +It was with an effort that the woman who sat facing him resumed her +self-appointed task. "That I can well understand," she said. "But even +so, I think you should bear in mind that Chris is young--and frail. You +are not justified in exposing her to temptation." + +"As how?" + +Aunt Philippa hesitated for the first time in actual perturbation. + +Mordaunt waited immovably. + +"I think," she said at length, "that you would be very ill-advised if you +went to town and left her here--thrown entirely upon her own resources." + +"May I ask if you are still referring to my secretary?" he said. + +She bent her head. "I have never approved of her being upon such intimate +terms with him. She treats him as if--as if--" + +"As if he were her brother," said Mordaunt quietly. "I do the same. I +have many friends, but he is the one man in the world who possesses my +entire confidence. For that reason I foster their friendship, for I know +it to be a good thing. For that reason, if I were dying, I would +confidently leave her in his care." + +"My dear Trevor, the man has bewitched you!" protested Aunt Philippa. + +His eyes fell away from her at last, and she was conscious of distinct +relief, mingled with a most unwonted tinge of humiliation. + +"I am obliged to you," he said formally, "for taking the trouble to warn +me. But you need never do so again. Believe me, I am not blind; and Chris +is safe in my care." + +He rose with the words, and went to the sideboard for his breakfast. Here +he remained for some time with his back turned, but when he finally came +back to the table there was no trace of even suppressed agitation about +him. + +He sat down and began to eat with a perfectly normal demeanour. The +silence, however, remained unbroken until Noel burst tempestuously into +the room. No silence ever outlasted his appearance. + +He flung his arms round his brother-in-law and embraced him warmly, with +a friendly, "Hullo, you greedy beggar! Hope you haven't gobbled up +everything! I'm confoundedly hungry. Morning, Aunt Philippa! I suppose +you fed long ago? It's a disgusting habit, isn't it? But one we can't +dispense with at present. Where's Chris?" + +"Chris," said Aunt Philippa icily, "has already breakfasted, and so have +I." + +She moved towards the door as she spoke. Noel sprang with alacrity to +open it, and bowed to the floor behind her retreating form. + +"She looks like a dying duck in a thunderstorm," he observed, as he +returned to the table. "What have you been doing to her? Has there been a +thunderstorm?" + +Mordaunt met his inquiring eyes without a smile. "Noel," he said, "if you +can't be courteous to your aunt and your sister, I won't have you at the +table at all--or in the house for that matter." + +Noel uttered a long whistle. "I thought I smelt the reek of battle in the +air! What's up? Anything exciting?" + +"Do you understand me?" Mordaunt said, sticking to his point. + +Noel broke into smiles. "Oh, perfectly, my dear chap! You're as simple as +the Book of Common Prayer. But it would be a pity to kick me out of the +house, you know. You'd miss me--horribly." + +Mordaunt leaned back in his chair. "Then I'll give you a sound caning +instead." + +Noel nodded vigorous approval. "Much more suitable. I like you better +every day. So does Chris. I believe she'll be in love with you before +long." + +"Really?" said Mordaunt. + +"Yes, really." Noel was munching complacently between his words. "I never +thought you'd do it. The odds were dead against you. She only married you +to get away from Aunt Philippa. Of course you know that?" + +"Really?" Mordaunt said again. He was not apparently paying much +attention to the boy's chatter. + +"Yes, really," Noel reiterated, with a grin. "It's solid, simple, sordid +fact. The only chap she ever seriously cared about was a little beast of +a Frenchman she chummed up with years ago at Valpré. I never met the +beggar myself, but I'm sure he was a beast. But I'll bet she'd have +married him if she'd had the chance. They were as thick as thieves." + +At this point Mordaunt opened the morning paper with a bored expression, +and straightway immersed himself in its contents. + +Noel turned his attention to his breakfast, which he dispatched with +astonishing rapidity, finally remarking, as he rose: "But you never can +tell what a woman will do when it comes to the point--unless she's a +suffragette, in which case she may be safely relied on to make a howling +donkey of herself for all time." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A BROKEN REED + + +"But, my good girl, five hundred pounds!" Rupert looked down at his +sister with an expression half-humorous, half-dismayed. "What do you +think I'm made of?" he inquired. + +She stood before him, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. "I +must have it! I must have it!" she said piteously. "I thought you might +be able to raise it on something." + +"But not on nothing," said Rupert. + +"I would pay it back," she urged. "I could begin to pay back almost at +once." + +"Why on earth don't you ask Trevor for it?" he said. "He's the proper +person to go to." + +"Oh, I know," she answered. "And so I would for anything else, but not +for this--not for this! He would ask questions, questions I couldn't +possibly answer. And--oh, I couldn't--I couldn't!" + +"What have you been up to?" said Rupert curiously. + +"Nothing--nothing whatever. I've done nothing wrong." Chris almost wrung +her hands in her agitation. "But I can't tell you or anyone what I want +it for. Oh, Rupert, you will help me! I know you will!" + +"Steady!" said Rupert. "Don't get hysterical, my child. That won't serve +anybody's turn. I suppose you've been extravagant, and daren't own up. +Trevor is a bit of a Tartar, I own. But five hundred pounds! It's utterly +beyond my reach." + +"Couldn't you borrow it from someone?" pleaded Chris. "Rupert, it's only +for a time. I'll pay back a little every month. And you have so many +friends." + +Rupert made a grimace. "All of whom know me far too well to lend me +money. No, that cock won't fight. I've a hundred debts of my own waiting +to be settled. Trevor wasn't disposed to be over-generous the last time I +approached him. At least, he was generous, but he wasn't particularly +encouraging. He's such a rum beggar, and I have my own reasons for not +wanting to go to him again at present." + +"Of course you couldn't go to him for this," said Chris. "But--Rupert, if +you could only help me in this matter, I would do all I could for you. I +would give you every farthing I could spare, indeed--indeed. I might even +ask him for a little later on--not yet, of course, but by and bye, if I +saw an opportunity. Oh, you don't know what it means to me--how much +depends upon it." + +"Why don't you tell me?" Rupert asked. + +"Because I can't--I daren't!" Chris laid imploring hands upon his +shoulders; her eyes besought him. "Dear Rupert, it isn't that I don't +trust you. Don't think that! But it wouldn't do any good if you knew, and +I simply can't talk about it. I've shown how much I trust you by asking +you to help me out of my trouble. There is no one else in the world that +I could ask--not even Max. He would make me tell him everything. But you +won't, dear; I know you won't, will you?" + +It was impossible not to be moved by her earnest pleading. Rupert slipped +an arm around her. "You needn't be afraid of me," he said. + +"I know I needn't," she answered, laying her cheek against him with a +quick gesture of confidence. "And I am of everyone else--even of Bertie. +It's absurd, isn't it? Fancy being afraid of Bertie!" She smiled through +tears. + +"He doesn't know, then?" said Rupert. + +"Bertie? No, no, of course not! I wouldn't have him know for the world. +He would go and do--something desperate." Chris's startled eyes testified +to her dread of this contingency. "No, I haven't dared to tell anyone, +except you. If you can't help me, there's no one left. I--I shall run +away and drown myself." + +"Oh, nonsense!" said Rupert. "There's a way out of every difficulty if +one has the wit to find it. Keep cool, my dear girl! If you let yourself +go, you will give your own show away." + +"I know! I know!" gasped Chris. "But what can I do? It would kill me if +Trevor knew!" + +Rupert's arm tightened protectingly about her. At least they stood by +each other, these Wyndhams. "Then Trevor mustn't know," he rejoined. +"I'll manage it somehow if it's humanly possible. You must let me think +it over. And in the meantime, for goodness' sake, keep cool. If Trevor +were to see you now, he would know there was something up directly." + +As a matter of fact, he himself had never seen his sister so agitated +before. She was like a terrified bird in a trap. What on earth had she +been doing? he wondered. What made her go in such abject fear of her +husband that the very mention of his name was enough to send every +vestige of colour from her face? + +He grasped her trembling fingers reassuringly. "There! Leave it to me," +he said. "I'll find a way out, never fear. I've been in a good many tight +corners in my time, but I've always wriggled out somehow. I suppose you +want the money soon?" + +"At once," said Chris. + +He made a grimace, as of one swallowing a nauseous draught. "All right, +you shall have it. Now, don't worry any more. It's going to be all +right." He patted her shoulder kindly. "Only, for Heaven's sake, don't do +it again!" + +She shivered, and turned away to hide her quivering lips. "If--if you can +get me the money this once," she said, "I--I'll never ask you again, and +I'll give you every farthing--every farthing--" + +"My dear child, I don't want your farthings," responded Rupert cheerily. +"If you can make it fifty pounds now, I shall be quite grateful. But I'll +get you yours first, never mind how. Now, hadn't we better go back to the +rest? Aunt Philippa will be wondering what we are conspiring about. By +the way, when does she depart?" + +"Soon, I hope," said Chris fervently. + +He grinned. "Had enough of her, eh? So, I should imagine, has Trevor. He +is keener on giving advice than taking it, if I know anything about him." + +"She wouldn't dare to give Trevor advice," protested Chris. + +"Ho! wouldn't she?" He laughed derisively, as they turned to leave the +little room in the roof that was her refuge, but paused at the door to +slip his arm through hers. "You're not to worry, young 'un," he said, +with a patronage that did not veil concern. "Do you know you're looking +downright ill?" + +She smiled up at him wistfully. "Things have been pretty horrid lately. +But I won't worry any more if--if you tell me I needn't." + +"You needn't," he said, and impulsively he stooped and kissed her. He had +always had a protecting tenderness for his little sister. + +They descended to the drawing-room to find Aunt Philippa writing letters +in solitary state. The rest of the company, with the exception of +Mordaunt, who was at work in his own room, were in the billiard-room just +beyond, and Chris and Rupert repaired thither, relieved to make their +escape so easily. + +They found Bertrand, who was an expert player, making a long break. He +was playing against Max, whose opinion of him was obviously rising with +this display of skill. + +He was engaged upon a most difficult stroke when Chris entered, and she +stopped behind him lest she should disturb his aim. But he turned round +at once to her, leaving the balls untouched. + +"_Mais non_!" he declared lightly. "I cannot play with my back to my +hostess. It is an affair _très difficile_, and I must have everything in +my favour." + +"Oh, don't let me spoil your luck!" she said. + +She came and stood at the end of the table to watch him. + +"That would not be possible," he protested, as he applied himself again +to the ball. + +He achieved the stroke with that finish and dexterity that marked all he +did. + +"Oh, I say!" said Noel disgustedly. "You haven't a look-in, Max. He plays +like a machine." + +"You like not to be beaten by a Frenchman, no?" laughed Bertrand. "_Il +faut que les anglais soient toujours, toujours les premiers, hein_?" He +stopped suddenly, for Chris had made the faintest movement, as if his +words had touched some chord of memory. He flashed her a swift look, and +the smile died out of his face. He moved round the table, and again +stooped to his stroke. "But what is success after all," he said, "and +what is failure?" + +"You ought to know," Max observed dryly, as again he made his point. + +The Frenchman straightened himself. There was something of kinship +between these two, a tacit sympathy that had taken root on the night of +Chris's birthday, an understanding that called for no explanation. + +"Yes," he said, with a quick nod, "I know them both. They are worth +just--that." He snapped his fingers in the air. "They pass like"--he +hesitated a moment, then ended with deliberation--"like pictures in the +sand." + +"The same remark applies to most things," said Rupert. + +Bertrand glanced at him. "To all but one, monsieur," he said, in a queer +tone that was almost tinged with irony. + +Again he bent himself to a stroke with a quick, light grace, as though he +regarded success as a foregone conclusion. + +"Look at that!" said Noel in dejection, as the ball cannoned triumphantly +down the table. "The gods are all on his side." + +The stroke was a brilliant one, but Bertrand did not immediately +straighten himself as before. He remained leaning across the table, as if +he watched the effect of his skill. + +There was a brief pause before very carefully he laid his cue upon the +cloth and began to raise himself, slowly, with infinite caution, using +both hands. + +"No," he said, speaking jerkily, in a rapid undertone, as if to himself. +"The gods--are no more--on my side." + +A sharp gasp escaped him. He stood up, and they saw the sweat running +down his forehead. "Will you--excuse me for a moment?" he said. "I +have--forgotten _quelque chose_." + +He turned towards Chris with punctilious courtesy, clicked his heels +together, bowed, and walked stiffly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A MAN OF HONOUR + + +An amazed silence followed his exit; then, in a quick whisper, Chris +spoke. + +"He isn't well. I'm sure he isn't well. Did you see--his face--when he +stood up?" + +She turned with the words as if she would go after him, but Max checked +her sharply. "No, you stay here. I'm going." + +She paused irresolute. "Let me come too." + +"Don't be silly," said Max. He frowned at her scared face for a moment, +then smiled abruptly. "Don't be silly!" he said again. He passed down the +room with what seemed to her maddening deliberation, opened the door, and +went quietly out. + +Aunt Philippa was still busy with her correspondence in the drawing-room. +She glanced up as he went through. "Can you tell me what time the evening +post goes out? I have just asked M. Bertrand, but he did not see fit to +answer me." + +"Then he couldn't have heard you," said Max. "The post goes out at +nine-thirty." + +"Ah! Then perhaps you would wait a moment while I direct this envelope, +and you can then give it to a servant with orders to take it to the +post-office at once." + +Max drew his red brows together and waited. + +The scratching of Aunt Philippa's pen filled in the pause. She directed +her envelope, blotted it with care, stamped it with precision, finally +handed it to her nephew with the request, "Please remember that it is +important." + +Max received it with reverence. "I shall treat it with the utmost +veneration," he said. He knew that his aunt had a strong dislike for him, +and he fostered it with much enjoyment upon every possible occasion. + +He slipped the letter into his pocket as he left the room and promptly +dismissed it from his mind. + +He turned aside into the dining-room, rummaged for brandy and found it, +and went with noiseless speed upstairs. + +The door of Bertrand's room was unlatched, and he pushed it open without +ceremony. Blank darkness met him on the threshold, but a sound within +told him the room was tenanted. He switched on the light without delay, +entered, and shut the door. + +He found Bertrand seated huddled on the edge of his bed, gasping horribly +for breath. He did not apparently hear Max enter. His close-cropped head +was bowed upon his arms. His hands were opening and closing convulsively. +He rocked to and fro almost with violence, but no sound beyond his +spasmodic breathing escaped him. + +Max set down the brandy and took him by the shoulders. "Look here," he +said, "lie down. I'll help you." + +Bertrand started a little at his touch, and Max had a glimpse of his +tortured face as he glanced up. "_Fermez la porte_!" he said, in a choked +whisper. + +The door was already shut. Max wheeled and turned the key. "Now!" he +said. + +He stooped over the Frenchman, and with the utmost care lifted him back +on to the pillows, unfastened his collar, then turned to fling the +windows as wide as they would go. The night air, fragrant with rain, blew +in, rustling the curtains. Bertrand turned his face towards it +instinctively. His lips were blue; they worked painfully, as if, between +his gasping, he were still trying to speak. + +"Keep still!" Max said. + +He mixed some brandy and water, and returning, slipped his arm under the +pillow. "Don't exert yourself," he said. "I'll do it all." + +Very steadily he held the glass for Bertrand to drink. He could take but +very little at a time, so agonized was his struggle for breath. Max +waited through each pause, closely watching the drawn face, never missing +his opportunity. And gradually that little took effect. The anguish died +out of Bertrand's eyes, and he lay still. + +Max slipped his arm from beneath the pillow and stood up. "Don't move," +he said. "You're getting better." + +"You--will stay--with me?" whispered Bertrand. + +"Yes." + +He drew up a chair, and sat down, took the Frenchman's wrist between his +fingers, and so remained for a long time. + +Bertrand lay with closed eyes, his breathing still short and occasionally +difficult, but no longer agonized. + +There came the sound of flying feet along the corridor, and an impatient +hand hammered on the door. + +"Hullo, Bertrand! Are you all right? Chris wants to know," shouted a +boyish voice. + +Bertrand started violently, and a quiver of pain went through him. He +fixed his eyes imploringly on Max, who instantly rose to the occasion. + +"Of course he's all right. You clear out! We're busy." + +"What are you doing?" Keen curiosity sounded in Noel's voice. + +"Never mind! We don't want you," came the brotherly rejoinder. + +"But I say--" + +"Clear out!" ordered Max. "Go and tell Chris that Bertrand is writing a +letter to catch the post; which reminds me," he added grimly, "you can +also tell Holmes to come and fetch it in a quarter of an hour. Don't +forget now. It's important." + +He pulled the letter entrusted to his keeping from his pocket and tossed +it on to the table. + +Noel departed, and with an effort Bertrand spoke. + +"But that was not the truth." + +"Near enough," responded the second Wyndham complacently. "That is, if +you don't want everyone to know." + +Bertrand's brows contracted. "No--no! I would not that your sister should +know, or Mr. Mordaunt." + +"They will have to sooner or later," observed Max. + +"Then--let it be later," murmured Bertrand. + +Again there fell a silence, during which he seemed to be collecting his +strength, for when he spoke again it was with more firmness. + +"Mr. Wyndham!" + +"All right, you can call me Max. I'm listening," said Max. + +Bertrand faintly smiled. That touch of good-fellowship pleased him. Young +as he was, this boy somehow made him feel that he understood many things. + +"Then, Max," he said, "I think that you know already that which I am +going to say to you. However, it is better to say it. It is not possible +that I shall live very long." + +He paused, but Max said nothing. He sat, still holding Bertrand's wrist, +his gaze upon the opposite wall. + +"You knew it, no?" Bertrand questioned. + +"I suspected it," Max said. He turned slightly and looked at the man upon +the bed. "This isn't your first attack," he said. + +Bertrand shuddered irrepressibly. "Nor my second," he said. + +"I can give you something to ease the pain," Max said. "But if you're +wise you will consult a doctor." + +Again a faint smile flickered over Bertrand's face. "I am not enough +wise," he said, "to desire to prolong my life under these conditions." + +"I should say the same myself," observed Max somewhat curtly. + +He offered no further advice, but sat on, waiting apparently for further +developments. + +After a little Bertrand proceeded. "I have known now for some time that +this malady was incurable. I think that I would not have it otherwise, +for I am very tired. I am old too--much older than even you can +comprehend. I have undergone the suffering of a lifetime, and I am too +tired to suffer much more. But--look you, Max--I do not want to make +suffer those my friends whom I shall leave behind. That is why I pray +that the end may come quick--quick. And, till then--I will bear my pain +alone." + +"And if you can't?" said Max. "If it gets too much for you?" + +"The good God will give me strength," the Frenchman said steadfastly. + +Max shrugged his shoulders. "It's your affair, not mine. But I don't see +why you shouldn't tell Trevor. He will be hurt by and bye if you don't." + +But Bertrand instantly negatived the suggestion. "He is already +much--much too good to me. I cannot--I will not--be further indebted to +him. My services are almost nominal now. Also"--he paused--"if I tell +him, I cannot remain here longer, and--I have made a promise that for the +present I will remain." + +Max's shrewd eyes took another quick look at him. "For Chris's benefit, I +suppose?" he said, and though his tone was a question, it scarcely +sounded as if he expected an answer. + +Bertrand's eyes met his for an instant in a single lightning glance of +interrogation. They fell again immediately, and there followed a +considerable pause before he made reply: "I do not abandon my friends +when they are troubled and they have need of me." + +"Does Chris need you?" Max asked ruthlessly. + +Again that swift glance shooting upwards; again a lengthy pause. Then, +"_Vous avez la vue perçante_," Bertrand remarked in a low tone. + +"I can't help seeing things," Max returned. "I suppose it's my +speciality. I knew you were in love with her from the first moment I saw +you." + +Bertrand made a slight movement, as if the crude statement hurt him; but +he answered quite quietly, "You have divined a secret which is known to +none other. I confide it to your honourable keeping." + +The corners of Max's mouth went down. He looked as if he were on the +verge of making some ironical rejoinder, but he restrained it, merely +asking, "Are you sure that no one else knows it?" + +"You mean--?" The words came sharply this time; Bertrand's eyes searched +his face with keen anxiety. + +"Chris herself," Max said. + +"_La petite Christine! Ma foi, no_! She has never known!" Bertrand's +reply was instant and held unshaken conviction. + +"You seem very sure of that," Max observed. + +"I am sure. Also"--a queer little smile of tenderness touched Bertrand's +drawn face--"she never will know now." + +"Meaning you will never tell her?" Max said. + +"Me, I will die first!" Bertrand answered simply. + +Max grunted. "Women have an awkward knack of finding things out without +being told," he observed. + +"She will never discover this while I live," Bertrand answered. "I am her +friend--the friend of her childhood--nothing more than that." + +"But if she did find out?" Max said. + +"She will not." + +"But--suppose it for a moment--if she did?" He stuck to his point +doggedly, plainly determined to get an answer. + +"In that case I should depart at once," Bertrand answered. + +"Yes, and where would you go to?" + +Bertrand was silent. + +"You would go back to London and starve?" Max persisted. + +"Perhaps." Bertrand spoke as though the matter were one of indifference +to him. "It would not be for long," he said rather dreamily. + +"Oh, rot!" Max's rejoinder was intentionally vehement. "Look here," he +said, as Bertrand looked at him in surprise, "you can't go on like that. +It's too damned foolish. If, for any reason, you do leave this place, you +must have some plan of action. You can't let yourself drift." + +"No?" Bertrand still looked surprised. + +"No," Max returned vigorously. "Now listen to me, Bertrand. If I am to +keep quiet about this illness of yours, you have got to make me a +promise." + +Bertrand raised his brows interrogatively. + +"Just this," Max said, "that if you find yourself at a loose end, you +will come to me." + +Bertrand looked quizzical. "A loose end?" he questioned. + +"You know what it means all right," Max returned sternly. "Is it a +promise?" + +"That I come to you if I need a friend?" amended Bertrand. "But--why +should I do that?" + +"Because I am a friend if you like," said Max bluntly. + +Bertrand's hand closed hard upon his. "I have--no words," he said, in a +voice from which all banter had departed. + +Max gripped the hand. "Then it's a promise?" + +Bertrand hesitated. + +"You have no choice," Max reminded him. "And if you will come to me I can +find a way to help you. It wouldn't even be difficult. And you would have +skilled nursing and attention. Come, it's either that or Trevor will have +to be told. He'll see that you don't go back to starve in the streets." + +"I will not have Mr. Mordaunt told," Bertrand said quickly and firmly. + +"Then you will give me this promise," Max returned immovably. + +With a gesture of helplessness the Frenchman yielded. "_Eh bien_, I +promise." + +"Good!" said Max. He laid Bertrand's hand down and rose. + +Yet a moment he stood above him, looking downwards. "You keep your +promises, eh?" he asked abruptly. + +Bertrand flushed. "I am a man of honour," he said proudly. + +"Yes, I know you are." Max touched his shoulder with a boyish, +propitiatory movement. "I beg your pardon, old chap. I'd be one myself if +I could." + +"But you--but you--" Bertrand protested in confusion. + +"I am a Wyndham," said Max, with a bitter smile. "It doesn't run in our +family, that. But I'll play the game with you, man, just because you're +straight." + +He patted Bertrand's shoulder lightly, and turned away. There were not +many who knew Max Wyndham intimately, and of those not one who would have +credited the fact that the innate honour of a French castaway had somehow +made him feel ashamed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WOMANHOOD + + +"A thousand thanks, _chère Madame_, for the generous favour which you +have bestowed upon me! I shall make it my business to see that no rumour +of your droll secret of Valpré ever reach the ear of the strict husband, +lest he should imagine that among the rocks of that paradise there lies +entombed something more precious to him than the gay romance of your +youth. + +"To this undertaking I subscribe my signature, with many compliments to +the good secretary; and to you, _chère Madame_, my ever constant +devotion. + +"_Toujours à vous_, +GUILLAUME RODOLPHE. + +"P.S.--It is with profound regret that I find myself unable to visit you, +but my duty recalls me to my regiment in Paris." + +A faint sigh escaped Chris, the first breath she had drawn for many +seconds. She stood by her dressing-table in the full glare of the +electric light, dressed in white, her wonderful hair shining like +burnished copper. She was to give her first dinner-party that night. It +was not to be a very large affair, yet it was something of an ordeal in +her estimation. She would probably have faced it more easily away from +Aunt Philippa's critical eyes. But this was a condition not obtainable. +Aunt Philippa had decided to remain some little time longer at Kellerton +Old Park in consequence of an engagement having fallen through, a state +of affairs that Noel regarded with a disgust too forcible to be expressed +in words, and which had driven Max away within three days of his arrival. + +Upon Chris had devolved the main burden of her aunt's society, and a +heavy burden she had begun to find it. Aunt Philippa had apparently +determined to spend her time in transforming her young niece into a +practical housewife--a gigantic task which she tackled with praiseworthy +zeal. She had already instituted several reforms in the household, and +her thrifty mind contemplated several more. Chris's attitude, which had +at first been one of indifference, had gradually developed into one of +passive resistance. She was, as a matter of fact, too preoccupied just +then to turn her attention to active opposition; but she did not pretend +to enjoy the tutelage thus ruthlessly pressed upon her. She had been +compelled to relinquish her readings with Bertrand, of whom she now saw +very little; for, though rigidly courteous at all times, he consistently +avoided Aunt Philippa whenever possible. She on her part treated him with +disdainful sufferance, much as she had treated Cinders in the old days. +She resented his presence, but endured it perforce. + +Under these circumstances it was not surprising that there should occur +moments of occasional friction between her niece and herself, especially +since, under the most favourable conditions, they had never yet managed +to discover a single point in common. + +This constant jarring in the background of the ceaseless anxiety that +consumed her night and day had worn Chris's nerves to a very thin edge, +and now that relief had come at last in the form of the letter she held +in her hand she was almost too spent to feel it. The tension had endured +for so long that it seemed impossible that it could have relaxed all in a +moment. She had received a roll of banknotes from her brother two days +before, but that had in a fashion but added to her fever of unrest. Now +that she knew them to be safe in the pocket of the blackguard for whom +they were intended, now surely was the time for peace to return. + +But had it? Standing there, still reading and re-reading those gibing +words, she asked herself dully if ever peace could return to her--the +thoughtless, happy peace of her childhood that she had valued so +lightly--the careless security of a mind at rest. Had it gone from her +for ever? Was that also buried among the rocks at Valpré? She +wondered--she wondered! + +There came a low knock at the door between her room and her husband's. +She started violently. He had been in town for a few hours. She had not +expected him back for another quarter of an hour at least. + +"Oh no," she called out quickly, "you can't come in!" + +Yet she stood as she was under the glaring light, the letter still +clutched stiffly in her hand, her eyes still staring widely at the +irregular, un-English writing. The letters seemed to writhe and squirm +into life before her distorted vision, to wriggle like a procession of +monstrous insects across the page. Were they insects or were they +reptiles? She asked herself the question dazedly. + +"Chris!" Her husband's voice came to her softly through the closed door. +"Let me come in for a moment. I have something to show you." + +"Wait!" she called back desperately. "Wait!" + +Yet it was as if iron chains were loaded upon her. She could speak, but +she could not move. Were they reptiles she was watching so intently? Or +stay! Were they crabs? They were certainly rather like the funny little +crabs that she and Cinders used to hunt for in the shallow pools of +Valpré. She gave a little laugh. Surely it was the sort of thing that +might have happened to Alice in Wonderland! + +And then quite suddenly her brain flashed back to understanding, to +vivid, appalling consciousness; and she knew that her husband was waiting +to enter, while she held in her hand the one thing which she would have +sacrificed her life sooner than let him see. The awfulness of the +realization spurred her back to action. Her limbs were free again, +though horribly--so horribly--unsteady. The letter seemed to burn her +fingers. She dropped it into the small drawer in which she kept her +trinkets, turned the key with feverish haste, and, withdrawing it, thrust +it down inside her dress. The cold steel sent a shiver to her very heart, +but it stilled the wild fever of her fear. When she turned from the +dressing-table she had nerved herself; she was calm. + +She crossed the room to the door at which Trevor stood waiting, and +quietly opened it. + +"How impatient you are!" she said, with a smile. + +For a woman who held her fate at bay it was admirably done; but for +Chris--little Chris of the sunny eyes and eager, impetuous actions--it +was so overwhelming a failure that Mordaunt, standing on the threshold, +made no movement to enter, but stood, and looked and looked, as though +he had never seen her before. + +She met the look as a duellist meets his opponent's blade, instantly but +warily, summoning all the craft of her newly awakened womanhood to her +aid. She was not conscious of agitation. Her heart felt as if it were +turned to stone; it did not seem to be beating at all. + +"Well," she said, as he did not speak, "have you got through your +business in town?" + +He did not answer her, but came straight forward into the room, took her +by the shoulders, and drew her round so that she faced the light. "What +have you been doing?" he said. + +She faced him unshrinking, undismayed. The Chris of a few hours before +would have drawn back in open fear from the piercing scrutiny of those +grey eyes, but this Chris was different. This Chris was a woman with pale +lips that smiled a baffling smile and eyes that barred the way to her +soul, a woman who had found in her womanhood a weapon of defence that no +man could thrust aside. + +"I haven't been doing anything," she said indifferently, "except run +round after Aunt Philippa--oh yes, and write up to town for some things I +wanted. Aunt Philippa is really going to leave us to-day week. I can't +think what we shall do without her, can you? Now tell me about your +doings." + +She lifted her face suddenly for his kiss, ignoring the fact that he was +still holding her as if for inquisition. + +He drew her sharply into his arms and held her fast. "You are very cold, +sweetheart," he said. + +She flushed a little at his action, though the lips he kissed were like +ice. "I am tired," she said. + +She expected him to set her free, but he did not. He held her closer +still. Not till afterwards did she realize that it was the first time he +had ever held her thus and she had not quivered like a frightened bird +against his breast. She was scarcely thinking of him now. She was as one +who stands before a scorching fire too rapt in reverie to feel the heat. + +Yet after a little he did succeed in infusing a certain degree of warmth +into her. Her arms went round his neck, though hardly of her own +volition, and her lips returned his kiss. But there was no spirit in her. +She leaned against him as if spent. + +"Are you quite well, dear?" he asked her tenderly. + +"Oh, quite! I am always well." She uttered a little tremulous laugh and +raised her head from his shoulder. "Trevor," she said, "I am afraid you +will think me very extravagant, but, do you know, I haven't any money to +go on with. I had a notice from the bank to-day to say my account was +overdrawn." + +Again it was not the Chris he knew who uttered the words. It was a woman +of the world to whom his passing displeasure had become a matter almost +of indifference. + +"Chris," he said abruptly, "what is the matter with you, child? Are you +bewitched?" + +That roused her. She suddenly realized that she was on dangerous ground, +that to blind him she must recall the child who had vanished so +inexplicably. And so for the first time she deliberately set herself to +deceive this man who till now had ever impelled her to a certain measure +of honesty. She did it with a sick heart--but she did it. + +She laid her hands on the front of his coat, grasping it nervously, +lifting pleading eyes to his. + +"No, I'm not bewitched. I'm only pretending not to be frightened. Trevor, +don't be vexed. I'm very sorry about it. Really I couldn't help it." + +"It's all right, dear," he said at once, and his hands closed instantly +and reassuringly upon hers. He smiled into her eyes. "It's very naughty, +of course, but I'm glad you have told me. How much do you want?" + +She hesitated momentarily. "I--I'm afraid rather a lot, Trevor." + +"How much?" he repeated; and then, as she still hesitated, his hold +tightened and his face grew grave. He looked straight down into her eyes. +"Chris," he said, "you haven't forgotten, have you, that it is against my +wish that you should let your brothers have money?" + +She met the look unflinching. "No, Trevor." + +He released her without further question. "Then you need not be afraid to +tell me how much." + +She made a little grimace. The part was getting easier to play. She was +beginning to feel almost natural. But the other woman--the woman of the +world who surely had never been Chris Wyndham--was still there in the +background watching the farce and smiling cynically. Chris was beginning +to be afraid of this new personality of hers. It was infinitely more +formidable than her husband had ever been. + +"How much, dear?" Mordaunt asked quietly. + +She started slightly. "Thirty pounds," she said. + +"Your account is overdrawn to that amount?" + +"Yes." She glanced at him nervously. "I am very sorry," she said again. + +He remained grave, but perfectly kind. "I will pay in fifty pounds +to-morrow," he said. "That will take you to the end of the month." + +"Oh, thank you, Trevor!" She threw him a quick smile of gratitude. "I +will pay you back as soon as ever I can." + +"No, it isn't a loan," he said. + +"Oh, don't give it me!" Impulsively she broke in upon his words. It was +growing strangely easy, this part she had to play. Or had she indeed been +bewitched for those few dreadful seconds? Was she in reality herself +again, the quick-hearted Chris he knew, and that other woman but a +phantom born of the horrible strain she had undergone? She told herself +that this was the true explanation, even while in her heart she knew +otherwise. + +"Don't give it me," she said again. "I would really rather you didn't." + +"Why?" he asked. + +She put out her hand to him with a little movement of entreaty. "I can't +explain. But--I would like to pay it back if you don't mind." + +He smiled at her persistence. "No, I don't mind, if you particularly wish +it. Now come into my room for a moment. I want to show you something." + +She went with him, her hand in his, not willingly but because she could +not do otherwise. + +He led her to the table, and pointed out a box upon it. "That is for you, +Chris." + +"For me!" She looked at him as if startled. "What is it, Trevor?" + +"Open it and see," he said. + +She hesitated. She seemed almost afraid. "I hope it isn't anything +very--very--" + +"Open it and see," he repeated. + +She obeyed him with hands that had begun to tremble, took out an +object wrapped in tissue-paper, unfolded the coverings, and disclosed a +jewel-case. + +Then again she hesitated, standing as one in doubt. "Trevor, I--I--" + +"Open it, dear," he said gently. + +And mutely she obeyed. + +Diamonds flashed before her dazzled eyes, a myriad sparkling colours shot +spinning through her brain. She stood gazing, gazing, as one beneath a +spell. For the passage of many seconds there was no sound in the room. + +Then with a sudden movement she closed the case. It shut with a sharp +snap, and she raised a haggard face. + +"Trevor, it's lovely--lovely! But I can't take it--anyhow, not yet--not +till I have paid you back." + +"My dear little wife, what nonsense!" he said. + +"No, no, it isn't! I am in earnest." Her voice quivered; she held out the +case to him beseechingly. "I can't take it--yet," she said. "I thank you +with all my heart. But I can't--I can't!" + +Her words ended upon a sudden sob; she laid the case down again among its +wrappings, and stood before him silent, with bent head. It was not easy +to refuse this gift of his, but for some reason to accept it was a +monstrous impossibility. He would not understand, of course, but +yet--whatever he thought--she could not take it. + +A long pause followed her last words. She shed no tears, but another sob +was struggling for utterance. She put her hand to her throat to strangle +it there. + +And then at last Mordaunt spoke. "Chris, have you been doing something +that you are afraid to tell me of?" + +She was silent. Silence was her only refuge now. + +He put his arm round her. "Because," he said very tenderly, "you needn't +be afraid, dear, Heaven knows." + +That pierced her unbearably. Woman though she was, she almost cried out +under the pain of it. + +She drew herself away from him. "Don't! please don't!" she said rather +breathlessly. "You--you must take things for granted sometimes. I can't +always be explaining my feelings. They won't stand it." + +She tried to laugh, but could not. Again desperately she pressed her hand +to her throat. How would he take it? She wondered. Would he regard it as +a mere childish whim? Or would he see that he was dealing with a woman, +and a desperate woman at that? + +She scarcely knew what she expected of him, but most assuredly she did +not anticipate his next move. + +Quite quietly he picked up the jewel-case, and re-entered her room. + +"It may as well go among your other treasures," he said. "You needn't +wear it--unless you wish--until you have paid me back." + +His tone was perfectly ordinary. She wondered what was in his mind, how +he regarded her behaviour, why he treated her thus; not guessing that he +had set himself resolutely, with infinite patience, to show her how small +was her cause for fear. + +He laid his hand upon the drawer that contained her trinkets, tried it, +turned round to her, faintly smiling. + +"May I have the key?" + +She had followed him in silence, and now she stood still, The key! The +key! It seemed to be searing her flesh, burning through to her very +heart. She suddenly felt as if all the Fates were arrayed against her. +Why--why--why had she chosen that drawer to guard her secret? Yet how +could she have foreseen this? A mist swam before her eyes. Her new-found +composure tottered. + +"I--have lost it," she murmured. + +"Lost it!" he echoed. + +"I mean--I mean--" She was stammering now in open confusion--"I must have +laid it down somewhere. I--I shall find it again, no doubt." + +He turned fully round and looked at her. She clasped her hands to still +her quivering nerves. This fresh ordeal was proving too much for her. + +"I can't help it," she said, with white lips. "I often mislay things. I +am careless, I know. But I always find them again sooner or later. I will +have a look for it while you are dressing." + +Her words ran on almost meaninglessly. She was speaking for the sake of +speaking, because silence would have been too terrible to be borne, +because if she had ceased to speak she must have screamed. Even as it +was, the fact that her husband said nothing whatever was driving her +almost to distraction. + +Suddenly she realized that he was waiting for her to stop, that her words +were making no impression, that he was not so much as listening to them, +his attention being focussed upon her and her alone. + +She broke off in desperation. She met his steady eyes. "Don't you--don't +you believe me, Trevor?" + +He did not instantly reply. For one dreadful moment she thought that he +was going to answer in the negative. And then very deliberately he +declined her direct challenge. + +"I think," he said quietly, "that you don't know what you are saying." + +And with that he went slowly back to his own room, taking the jewel-case +with him. The door closed softly and she was left alone. + +For many seconds thereafter Chris made no movement of any sort. It was as +if she were afraid to stir. Her eyes were wide, gazing straight before +her, as though fascinated by some scene of terror. + +She moved at last stiffly, went to the window, drew a long, deep breath. +She asked herself no questions of any sort. There was no need. For the +first time in her life she was face to face with her own soul, beyond all +possibility of self-deception. + +The child Chris was gone for ever, the woman Chris remained, a woman with +a tragic secret that must never be revealed. She knew now why she had +fought so desperately to keep that episode of Valpré from her husband's +knowledge. She only marvelled that the reason had never come home to her +before. She knew now why she had always shrunk inwardly from the +searching of his eyes. She had always dreaded that he might see too much, +even that same secret of which she herself must have been vaguely +conscious for years. + +It was all clear to her now, so clear that she could never shut her eyes +to it again. All her life long she must carry it in her heart, and no one +must ever know. Sleeping and waking, she must keep it safely hidden. She +must go on living a lie all her life, all her life. + +She flung out her arms with a sudden gesture of fierce rebellion. Oh, why +had she married? Why? Why? Why? Had she not always known in her heart +that she was making a terrible, an irrevocable, mistake? How was it she +had been so blind? Why had there been no one to warn her of the snare +into which she was walking? Why had no hand held her back? + +Trevor himself--but no, Trevor did not so much as know that she had left +her childhood behind her yet. He was still wondering what childish +peccadillo was troubling her, keeping her from accepting his gift. At +least, he was very far from suspecting her actual reason; nor must he +ever suspect. + +Never, as long as they lived, must he know that she had refused the first +thing of value that he had offered her since their wedding because in an +instant of overwhelming revelation she had just recognized the fact that +she loved--had loved for years--another man. + + + + +PART III + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WAR + + +Two days before that on which Aunt Philippa had decided to take her +departure Mordaunt went again to town. Noel, whose holidays were drawing +to a close, accompanied him to the station in a state of high jubilation, +albeit Holmes was in charge of the motor and there was not the faintest +chance of his being allowed to take the wheel. + +"I hope you're going to behave yourself," were Mordaunt's last words. + +And the youngster's cheery grin and impudent "You bet, old chap!" ought +to have warned him not to hope for behaviour too exemplary. + +Noel, in fact, had been anticipating his brother-in-law's departure with +considerable eagerness. Though he liked him thoroughly, he was an +undoubted check upon his enjoyment. He kept him within bounds after a +fashion which had at first amused but had of late begun somewhat to pall +upon him; and Noel was only awaiting a suitable opportunity to kick over +the traces and gallop free. On this occasion Mordaunt had decided to +spend the night in town, so circumstances were propitious. + +As for Mordaunt, he had dismissed Noel from his mind almost before the +train was out of the station. But for her aunt's presence, he would have +persuaded Chris to go with him, even though he knew that she had not the +smallest wish to do so. He was growing very anxious with regard to her, +and he was firmly determined that she should have a change of scene as +soon as Noel's holidays and Aunt Philippa's protracted stay came to an +end. It was not that she seemed ill, but she was very far from being +herself, and there were times when he even fancied that she simulated +gaiety for the deliberate purpose of deceiving him. He knew, too, that +her sleep was often broken and troubled, but he never commented upon +this; she was so plainly averse to any criticism from him or anyone. A +shrewd suspicion had begun to take root in Mordaunt's mind to account for +this unwonted reticence; and because of it he treated her with the utmost +patience and consideration, asking no question, giving no sign that he so +much as noticed the change in her. He invariably turned from any subject +she seemed to find distasteful. If she seemed unusually nervous or +unreasonable, he passed it over, bearing with her with a tenderness that +sometimes moved her in secret to passionate tears the while she asked +herself what she had ever done that he should love her so. + +For if she had ever doubted the quality of his love, she could not do so +now. It surrounded her whichever way she turned, asking nothing of her, +never intruding upon her, content simply to shelter her. And though the +very fact of it hurt her, it comforted her subtly as well, lulling her +fear of him, giving her a certain measure of confidence. + +Of Bertrand, in those days, she saw less and less. In the first shock of +realization she had instinctively avoided him, possessed by a haunting +dread that he might guess her secret. But upon this point she was very +soon reassured. The consistent and unwavering friendliness of his +attitude quieted her misgivings, and nerved her to treat him, if with +less intimacy, at least without visible awkwardness. Whether he noticed +her avoidance or not she did not know, but he certainly seemed to be +withdrawing himself more and more out of her life. His work with her +husband apparently occupied all his thoughts, and then there was Aunt +Philippa also to keep him at a distance. How it would be when her aunt +departed Chris had no notion, but she was looking forward to that event +with an eagerness almost feverish. All her natural sweetness +notwithstanding, there were occasions upon which she actively disliked +this domineering relative of hers. Aunt Philippa, on her part, who had +never taken so much trouble with her niece before, openly marvelled at +her intractability, which even the fact that Chris was one of those +headstrong Wyndhams did not, in her opinion, wholly justify. No open +rupture had occurred, but a very decided animosity had begun to smoulder +between them, which a very little provocation might at any moment fan +into open hostility. + +Chris was leaning against a pillar of the porch when her brother +returned. There was very decided dejection in her attitude. + +"Cheer up!" Noel exhorted her, as he sprang from the car. "I've got a +ripping plan." + +He came and twined his arm in hers, and Chris smiled with a hint of +wistfulness. She felt as if she had left Noel and his boyish pleasures +very far behind of late. + +"What do you want to do?" she said. + +"Come into the gun-room and I'll tell you." Noel was all eagerness. +"Coast clear?" he questioned. "Where's Aunt Phil?" + +"Waiting for me to go and help her find fault with the gardeners." Chris +was still smiling a little, but there was not much humour in her voice. + +"Oh, rats! Don't go!" said Noel. "Come along into the gun-room, and help +me make some fireworks. It will be much more fun." + +A spark of the old ardour kindled in Chris's eyes. "Oh, are you going to +make fireworks?" she said. "Have you got the ingredients?" + +He nodded. "Nearly all. Come and see. What we haven't got we must +manufacture. I know where there are plenty of cartridges." + +Chris yielded to the eager pulling of his arm. "I suppose Trevor wouldn't +mind for once," she said. She had grown unaccountably scrupulous in this +respect. + +But Noel jeered at the notion. "Who cares? It'll be all over long +before he comes home to-morrow. We will have a regular jollification +to-night. You and I will run the show, and Aunt Phil and Bertrand can +look on and admire. I say, Chris, I've got a ripping receipt for +Catherine wheels--not the big ones, those little things you hold and buzz +round. You know!" + +His enthusiasm was infectious. It drew her almost in spite of herself. +Besides, it meant a temporary respite from the continual burden that +weighed her down, and brief though it must be, she could not bring +herself to refuse it. She went with him, therefore, with the feeling of +one who has signed a truce with the enemy, and in a couple of minutes +they were securely closeted in the gun-room, with the door locked against +all intruders, and all thoughts of Aunt Philippa and any other troublous +problems as resolutely excluded from their minds. + +The hours of the morning literally flew. Luncheon-time found them +absorbed in a most critical process. + +"Bust lunch!" said Noel. "We can't possibly leave this now." + +But Chris's sense of duty proved too strong for her inclination at this +juncture, and she sallied forth from their retreat to rescue Bertrand +from a _tête-à -tête_ meal with her aunt. + +There was a sparkle of merriment in her eyes when she entered the +dining-room. The engrossing work of the morning had done her good. She +was fully five minutes late, and Bertrand, who had presented himself +sharp on the hour with military punctuality, was waiting by the window. + +He came swiftly to meet her. She had not seen him before that day. + +"You are looking well this morning," he said, in his quick, friendly way. +"You have been busy, yes?" + +His soft eyes interrogated her, as for an instant he held her hand. Never +once had she found those eyes impossible to meet. They held the fidelity +of unswerving friendship. + +"Oh yes," she said, "busy in a fashion--a very childish fashion, Bertie. +Noel and I are making fireworks!" + +"Fireworks!" he echoed. + +"Yes, we are going to have a grand display tonight. Will you come and +look on?" + +He smiled. "But yes," he said. "I think that I will come and take care of +you." + +She nodded. "Do! But they are not dangerous, not very. Where is Aunt +Philippa?" + +He spread out his hands whimsically. "She has not given me her +confidence." + +Chris laughed. Actually she was feeling almost lighthearted. Till that +moment she had had a morbid dread of being alone with him, and now behold +her dread vanishing in mirth! Surely she had been very foolish, like a +child frightened at shadows! + +"I wonder where she is," she said. "I am afraid I have been playing +truant this morning. I shall have to apologize, though it was all Noel's +fault. Do see if you can find Mrs. Forest," she added to a servant just +entering. "Ask her if she is ready for luncheon." + +"Mrs. Forest is out in the motor, and has not yet returned," was the +information this elicited. + +"How odd!" said Chris. "What had we better do?" + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders, still looking quizzical. "We must not +lunch without her, _bien sûr_. Let us go into the garden." + +They went into the garden, and walked for a space in the September +sunshine. + +They talked at first upon commonplace topics, and Chris was wholly at her +ease. But presently Bertrand turned the conversation with an abrupt +question. + +"Christine, tell me, you have never seen that scoundrel Rodolphe again?" + +She started a little, and was conscious that she changed colour, but she +answered him instantly. "No, never. But--why do you ask?" + +Very gravely he made reply. "I have feared lately that there was +something that troubled you. I was wrong, yes?" + +He looked at her anxiously. + +She did not answer him, she could not. + +"_Eh bien_," he said gently, after a moment. "It was not that. You have +heard that he has been recalled to France--that there is a rumour that +there have been revelations that may lead to a court-martial?" + +"No!" said Chris in amazement. "Do you mean--" + +He bent his head. "It is possible." + +"That you may be vindicated?" she questioned eagerly. "Oh, Bertie!" + +"It is possible," he repeated. "Yet I will not permit myself to hope. It +is no more than a rumour. It is also possible that it may not even touch +the old _affaire_, since he made no appearance at my trial." + +"But if it did!" said Chris. + +He gave her an odd look. "If it did, Christine?" he questioned. + +"You would go back with flying colours," she said. "You would be +reinstated surely!" + +He shook his head. "I do not think it." + +"You mean you wouldn't go?" she asked. + +He turned his face up to the sun with a peculiar gesture. "Who can say?" +he said, with closed eyes. "Me, I think that the good God has other plans +for me. I may be justified--I do not know. But I shall wear the uniform +of the French Army--never again." + +He spoke perfectly calmly, with absolute conviction; but there was that +in his face that startled her, something she had never seen before. + +She put out a hesitating hand, and touched his sleeve. "Bertie!" + +Instantly he looked at her, saw the scared expression in her eyes, and, +smiling, pressed her hand. + +"_Mais_, Christine, these things--what are they? Ambition, success, +honour--loss, failure, shame; they seem so great in this little life of +mortality. But, after all, they are no more than the tools with which the +good God shapes us to His destiny. He uses them, and when His work is +done He throws them aside. We leave them behind us; we pass on to that +which is greater." He paused a moment, and his eyes kindled as though he +were on the verge of something further; then suddenly they went beyond +her, and he relinquished her hand. "Madame has returned," he said. "Let +us go!" + +Looking up, Chris saw Aunt Philippa upon the terrace above them. + +The expression on her relative's face was one of severe and undisguised +disapproval, as her gaze rested upon the two in the garden. Chris, as she +moved to meet her, felt a sudden flame of indignation at her heart. How +dared Aunt Philippa look at them so? + +"We have been waiting for you," she said, speaking in some haste to +conceal her resentment. "Has anything happened?" + +Aunt Philippa replied in the measured accents habitual to her. "Nothing +has happened. I have been to Sandacre Court, at Mrs. Pouncefort's +invitation, to see the gardens. I waited for you, Chris, for nearly an +hour this morning, but you did not see fit either to come to me or to +send any word of explanation to account for your absence. Therefore I +started late. Hence my late return." + +Chris coloured. "I am sorry, Aunt Philippa. Noel wanted me. I am afraid I +forgot you were waiting." + +"It seems to me," said Aunt Philippa, with cutting emphasis, "that you +are apt to forget every obligation when in Mr. Bertrand's society." + +"Aunt Philippa!" + +Furious indignation rang in Chris's voice. In a second--in less--it would +have been open war, but swift as an arrow Bertrand intervened. + +"Ah! but pardon me," he said, in his soft voice. "I am not responsible +for Mrs. Mordaunt's negligence. She has been occupied with her affairs, +and I with mine. Had she been in my society"--he smiled with a flash of +the teeth--"she would not have forgotten her duties so easily. I am an +excellent monitor, madame. Acquit me, I beg, of being accessory to the +crime, and accept my sympathies the most sincere." + +Aunt Philippa ignored them in icy silence, but he had accomplished his +end. The evil moment was averted. Whatever Chris might have to endure +later, at least she would be spared the added mortification of his +presence during the infliction. Airily he turned the subject. He could +overlook a snub more adroitly than Aunt Philippa could administer one. + +They went into the house, and during the meal that followed Bertrand made +himself gracefully agreeable to both ladies. So delicate were his +attentions that Chris found herself more than once on the verge of +hysterical laughter. + +But when he left them at length, with many apologies, to resume his +interrupted labours, her sense of humour ceased to vibrate. Never before +had she desired her husband's presence as she desired it then. + +Her hope that Aunt Philippa might retire to her room to rest was a very +slender one, and destined almost from the outset to disappointment. Aunt +Philippa was on the war trail, and she would not rest until she had +tracked down her quarry. + +She began at once to speak of her morning's visit to Mrs. Pouncefort, +whom she knew as a London hostess. Personally, she disapproved of her, +but she could not afford to pass her over, since her status in society +was by no means inconsiderable, being, in fact, almost capable of +rivalling her own. + +"I should have remained to luncheon," she said, "but for the fact that +you were here quite unchaperoned. Had you accompanied me, as I had hoped +you would, I should not have had to hasten back in the heat." + +"But I wasn't invited," said Chris, "and I know every inch of those +gardens. I knew them long ago, before the Pounceforts came." + +"The invitation," said Aunt Philippa, not to be diverted from her +purpose, "was quite casual. You could quite well have accompanied me. In +fact, I think Mrs. Pouncefort was surprised not to see you. However, we +need not discuss that further. Doubtless you had your own reasons for +desiring to remain at home, and I shall not ask you what those reasons +were. What I do ask, and what I think I have a right to know, is whether +you have had the proper feeling to tell your husband that the Captain +Rodolphe you met at Pouncefort Court a little while ago is the man with +whom you were so deplorably intimate at Valpré in your girlhood, or +whether you have had the audacity to pretend that he was a total stranger +to you." + +Chris almost gasped at this unexpected attack, but its directness +compelled an instant reply without pausing to consider the position. + +"I was never intimate with Captain Rodolphe," she said quickly. "I never +spoke to him before the other day." + +And there she stopped suddenly short, arrested by the look of open +incredulity with which her aunt received her hasty statement. + +There was a moment's silence. Then, "Really!" said Aunt Philippa. "He +gave Mrs. Pouncefort to understand otherwise." + +Chris felt the blood rush to her face. This was intolerable. "What did he +give Mrs. Pouncefort to understand?" she demanded. + +"Merely that you were old friends," said Aunt Philippa, with the calm +superiority of one not to be shaken in her belief. + +"Then he lied!" said Chris fiercely. + +Aunt Philippa said "Indeed!" with raised eyebrows. + +Chris's hands clenched unconsciously. "He lied!" she repeated. "We are +not friends! We never could be! I--I hate the man!" + +"Then you know him well enough for that?" said Aunt Philippa. + +Chris sprang to her feet with hot cheeks and blazing eyes. "Aunt +Philippa, you have no right--you and Mrs. Pouncefort--to--to talk me over +and discuss my acquaintances!" + +"My dear child," said Aunt Philippa, "all that passed between us was a +remark made by Mrs. Pouncefort to the effect that one of her guests, +Captain Rodolphe--an old friend of yours whom she believed you had +originally met at Valpré--had just returned to Paris. What led to the +remark I do not remember. But naturally the name recalled certain +regrettable circumstances to my mind, and I felt it my duty to ask if you +had been quite candid with Trevor upon the subject. I am sincerely +grieved to know that my suspicion in this respect was but too well +founded." + +"He was not the man I knew at Valpré" burst forth Chris, with passionate +vehemence. "You may believe it or not; it is the truth!" + +"Then, my dear," said Aunt Philippa, with the calmness of unalterable +conviction, "there must have been two men who enjoyed that privilege." + +Chris broke into a wild laugh--a laugh that had been struggling for +utterance for the past hour. + +"Two! Why, there were a dozen at least, some soldiers, some fishermen! +Ask Trevor! He can tell you all about them--if he thinks it worth while!" + +"And yet you have not mentioned Captain Rodolphe to him?" said Aunt +Philippa. Her eyes were fixed unsparingly upon the girl's face, and she +saw the colour dying away as swiftly as it had risen. "That is strange," +she remarked, with emphasis. + +"It is not strange!" flashed back Chris. The laugh had gone from her +lips, leaving them white, but she faced her adversary unflinchingly. It +was open war now--a fierce and bitter struggle for the mastery, for which +she knew herself to be ill-equipped, but in which she must fight to the +last. She knew that Aunt Philippa had always regarded her with cold +dislike, and it dawned upon her in that moment that now--now that her +position was assured, now that she was rich and popular and the wife of a +man who was universally honoured in that great world of society in which +her aunt had always striven for a leading place--the dislike had turned +to a cruel jealousy that demanded her downfall. And she was horribly at +her mercy; deep in her heart she knew that also, but she would not own +it, even to herself. Aunt Philippa had not yet unmasked the truth. Until +she succeeded in doing so, all was not lost. + +"It is not strange," she repeated, and this time she spoke quietly, +summoning all her strength to the unequal contest. "Captain Rodolphe was +not of sufficient importance to mention to Trevor. Besides--" + +"Although you hate him so bitterly!" Aunt Philippa reminded her. + +Chris pressed on, ignoring the thrust. "Besides, Trevor does not need, +does not so much as wish to be told of every little incident that ever +happened in my life. He prefers to trust me." + +"And have you never abused his confidence?" asked Aunt Philippa. + +It was inevitable. She flinched ever so slightly, but she covered it with +instant defiance. "What do you mean, Aunt Philippa?" + +Aunt Philippa made no direct reply. She knew the value of insinuation in +such a battle as this. "Ask yourself that question," she said +impressively. + +It might have provided a way of escape, at least temporarily, but Chris +was too far goaded to see it. "Tell me what you mean," she said. + +Aunt Philippa's thin lips smiled ironically. "My dear, are you really so +blind, or is deceit the very air you breathe? Can you look me in the face +and assure me that nothing has ever passed between you and your husband's +secretary of which you would not wish him to know?" + +That went home, straight to her quivering heart. For a moment the pain of +it held her dumb. Then, with a gasp, she turned from the pitiless eyes +that watched her. + +"Oh, how dare you, Aunt Philippa! How dare you!" she cried in impotence. + +"I trust that I am not afraid to do my duty," said Aunt Philippa, very +gravely. + +But Chris had already turned, completely routed, and fled from the scene +of her defeat; nor did she pause until she had reached her haven at the +top of the house, where, like a wounded bird, she crouched down in +solitude and so remained for a long, long time. + +Not till the afternoon was far advanced did any measure of comfort come +to her stricken soul, and then at last she remembered that, after all, +she was comparatively safe. Her husband's trust was still hers, implicit +and unwavering, and she knew that he would not so much as notice a single +hint from Aunt Philippa, however adroitly offered. That was her one and +only safeguard, and as she realized it the bitterness of her heart gave +place to a sudden burst of anguished shame. What had she ever done to +deserve the generous, unquestioning trust he thus reposed in her? +Nothing--less than nothing! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FIREWORKS + + +When Chris emerged from her seclusion, she found that her aunt had +decided to suspend hostilities, and to treat her with the majestic +condescension of the conqueror. It was something of a relief, for Chris +was not fashioned upon fighting lines, and long-sustained animosity was +beyond her. She was thankful for Noel's plans for the evening's +entertainment as a topic of conversation, even though Aunt Philippa +openly disapproved of the enterprise. She had begun feverishly to count +the hours to her aunt's departure. She would not feel really safe, +reassure herself how she might, until she was finally gone. + +It was not until after dinner that Noel emerged from his lair in the +gun-room and announced everything to be in readiness. He called Chris out +on to the terrace to assist him, and Aunt Philippa and Bertrand were +left--an ill-assorted couple--to watch and admire the result of his +efforts. Aunt Philippa invariably maintained a demeanour of haughty +reserve if she found herself alone with her host's French secretary, an +attitude in which he as invariably acquiesced with an impenetrable +silence which she resented without knowing why. He was always courteous, +but he never tried to be agreeable to her, and this also Aunt Philippa +resented, though she would have mercilessly snubbed any efforts in that +direction had he exerted himself to make them. + +The night was dark and still, an ideal night for fireworks. Noel began +with the failures which he had not the heart to waste. He was keeping the +choicest of his collection till the last. Consequently there were a good +many crackling explosions on the ground with nothing but a few sparks to +compensate for the noise, and Aunt Philippa very speedily tired of the +din. + +"This is childish as well as dangerous," she said. "I shall go to the +library. There will at least be peace and quietness there." + +"Without doubt," said Bertrand. + +He accompanied her thither with a polite regard for her comfort for which +he received no gratitude, and then returned to smoke his cigarette in +comfort by the open French window that overlooked the terrace. + +A ruddy glare lit up the scene as he took up his stand. The failures were +apparently exhausted, and Noel had begun upon the masterpieces. Chris's +quick laugh came to him, as he stood there watching. Yet he frowned a +little to himself as he heard it, missing the gay, spontaneous, childish +ring that he had been wont to hear. What had come to her of late? Was it +true that she had told him on the night of Cinders' death? Was she indeed +grown-up? If so--he changed his position slightly, trying to catch a +glimpse of her in the fitful glare of one of Noel's Roman candles--had +the time come for him to go? He had always faced the fact that she would +not need him when her childhood was left behind. And certainly of late +she had not seemed to need him. She had even--he fancied--avoided him at +times. He wondered wherefore. Could it have been at her aunt's +instigation? Surely not. She was too staunch for that. + +There remained another possibility, and, after a little, reluctantly, +with clenched teeth, he faced it. Had she by some means discovered that +which he had so studiously hidden from her all this time? He cast his +mind back. Had he ever inadvertently betrayed himself? He knew he had +not. Never since her marriage had he given the faintest sign; no, not +even on that fateful afternoon when she had clung to him in anguish of +soul and he had held her fast pressed against his heart. He had been +strictly honourable, resolutely loyal, all through. He had always held +himself in check. He had never forgotten, never relaxed his vigilance, +never once been other than faithful, even in thought, to the friend who +trusted him. Yet--Max's words recurred to him, piercing him as with a +stab of physical pain--without doubt women had a genius _incroyable_ for +discovering secrets. And if Chris were indeed a woman--was it not +possible-- + +Again her laugh broke in upon his thoughts, and he turned swiftly in the +direction whence it came. She was standing not more than a dozen yards +from him, a red whirl of fire all about her, in her hand a whizzing, +spitting-aureole of flame. The light flared upwards on her face and +gleaming hair. She looked like some fire-goddess, exulting over the +radiant element she had created. And, like a sword-thrust to his heart, +there went through him the memory of her standing poised like a bird on +the prow of a boat. Just so had she stood then; just so, goddess-like, +had she exulted in the morning sunshine and the sparkling water; just so +had her bare arms shone on the day that first he had consciously +worshipped her, on the day that she had told him of her desire to find +out all the secrets that there were. Ah! how much had she found out since +then--his bird of Paradise with the restless, ever-fluttering wings? How +much? How much? + +A sudden cry banished his speculations--a cry uttered by her voice, sharp +with dismay. "Oh, Noel! My sleeve!" + +Before the words were past her lips Bertrand had leaped forth to the +rescue. He traversed the distance between them as a meteor hurling +through space. But even so, ere he reached her, the filmy lace that hung +down from her elbow had blazed into flame. She had dropped the firework, +and it lay hissing on the ground like a glittering snake. He sprang over +it and caught her in his arms. + +She cried out again as he crushed her to him, cried out, and tried to +push him from her; but he held her fast, gripping the flaming material +with his naked hands, rending it, and gripping afresh. Something white +which neither noticed fluttered upon the ground between them. It must +have actually passed through that frantic grip. It lay unheeded, while +Bertrand beat out the last spark and ripped the last charred rag away +from the soft arm. + +"You are hurt, no?" he queried rather breathlessly. + +"You, Bertie! What of you?" she cried hysterically, clinging to him. +"Your hands--let me see them!" + +"By Jove, that was a near thing!" ejaculated Noel, who had followed close +upon Bertrand's heels. "I thought you were done for that time, Chris. How +on earth did you manage it? You must have been jolly careless." + +Chris did not attempt to answer. Now that the emergency had passed, she +was hanging upon Bertrand almost in a state of collapse. + +"Let us go in," the latter said gently. + +"Yes, run along," said Noel, who had a wholesome dread of hysterics. +"Don't be silly, Chris; there's no harm done. But if it hadn't been for +this chap here you'd have been in flames in another second. I +congratulate you, Bertrand, on your presence of mind. Not hurt yourself, +I suppose?" + +"I am not hurt," the Frenchman answered; but his words sounded as if +speech were an effort to him, almost as if he spoke them through clenched +teeth. + +Chris straightened herself swiftly. "Yes, let us go in," she said. + +She leaned upon Bertrand no longer, but she still held his arm. As they +entered the drawing-room alone together, she turned and looked at him. + +"Ah! I knew you were hurt," she said quickly. "Sit down, Bertie. Here is +a chair." + +He sank down blindly, his face like death; he had begun to gasp for +breath. His hand groped desperately towards an inner pocket, but fell +powerless before reaching it. + +"Let me!" whispered Chris. + +She bent over him, and slipped her own trembling hand inside his coat. +Her fingers touched something hard, and she drew out a small bottle. + +"Is it this?" she said. + +His lips moved in the affirmative. She removed the stopper and shook out +some capsules. + +"_Deux_!" whispered Bertrand. + +She put them into his mouth and waited. Great drops had started on his +forehead, and now began to roll slowly down his drawn face. She took his +handkerchief after a little to wipe them away, but almost immediately he +reached up with a quivering smile and took it from her. + +"I am better," he said, and though his voice was husky he had it under +control. "You will pardon me for giving you this trouble. It was only--a +passing weakness." + +He mopped his forehead, and leaned slowly forward, moving with caution. + +"But you are ill! You are in pain!" Chris exclaimed. + +"No," he said. "No, I have no pain. I am better. I am quite well." + +Again he looked up at her, smiling. "But how I have alarmed you!" he said +regretfully. "And your arm, _petite_? It is not burnt--not at all?" + +He took her hand gently, and put back the tattered sleeve to satisfy +himself on this point. + +Chris said nothing. Her lips had begun to tremble. But she winced a +little when he touched a place inside her arm where the flame had +scorched her. + +He glanced up sharply. "Ah! that hurts you, that?" + +"No," she said, "no. It is nothing." And then, with sudden passion: +"Bertie, what does a little scorch like that matter when you--when +you--" She broke off, fighting with herself, and pointed a shaking finger +at his wrist. + +It had been blistered by the flame, and his shirt-cuff was charred; but +the injury was slight, remarkably so in consideration of the utter +recklessness he had displayed. + +He snapped his fingers with easy indifference. "Ah, bah! It is a +_bagatelle_, that. In one week it will be gone. And now--why, _chérie_--" + +He stopped abruptly. She had dropped upon her knees beside him, her hands +upon his shoulders, her face, tragic in its pain, upturned to his. + +"Bertie, why do you try to hide things from me? Do you think I am quite +blind? You are ill. I know you are ill. What is it, dear? Won't you tell +me?" + +He made a quick gesture as if he would check either her words or her +touch, and then suddenly he stiffened. For in that instant there ran +between them once again, vital, electric, unquenchable, that Flame that +had kindled long ago on a morning of perfect summer, that Flame which +once kindled burns on for ever. + +It happened all in a moment, so swiftly that they were caught unawares in +the spell of it, so overwhelmingly that neither for the space of several +throbbing seconds possessed the volition to draw back. And in the deep +silence the man's eyes held the woman's irresistibly, yet by no conscious +effort, while each entered the other's soul and gazed upon the one +supreme secret which each had mutely sheltered there. + +It was to the man that full realization first came--a realization more +overwhelming than anything that had gone before, striking him with a +stunning force that shattered every other emotion like a bursting shell +spreading destruction. + +He came out of that trance-like stillness with a gesture of horror, as if +freeing himself from some evil thing that had wound itself about him +unawares. + +Her hands fell away from his shoulders instantly. She was white to +the lips. She even for one incredible moment--the only moment in her +life--shrank from him. But that impulse vanished as swiftly as it came, +vanished in a rush of passionate understanding. For with a groan Bertrand +sank forward and bowed his head in his hands. + +"_Mon Dieu_!" he said. "What have I done?" + +She responded as it were instinctively, not pausing to choose her words, +speaking in a quick, vehement whisper, because his distress was more than +she could bear. + +"It is none of your doing, Bertie. You are not to say it--not to think it +even. It happened long, long ago. You know it did. It happened--it +happened--that day at Valpré--the day you--took me into your boat." + +He groaned again, his head dropping lower. She knew that also! Then was +she woman indeed! + +There followed a silence during which Chris remained kneeling beside him, +but she was no longer agitated. She was strangely calm. A new strength +seemed to have been given her to cope with this pressing need. When at +last she moved, it was to lay a hand that was quite steady upon his knee. + +"Bertie," she said, "listen! You have done nothing wrong. You have +nothing to reproach yourself with. It wasn't your fault that I took so +long to grow up." A piteous little smile touched her lips, and was gone. +"You have been very good to me," she said. "I won't have you blame +yourself. No woman ever had a truer friend." + +He laid his hand upon hers, but he kept his eyes covered. She could only +see the painful twitching of his mouth under the slight moustache. + +"Ah, Christine," he said at last, with an effort, "I have tried--I have +tried--to be faithful." + +"And you have never been anything else," she said very earnestly. "You +were my _preux chevalier_ from the very beginning, and you have done more +for me than you will ever know. Bertie, Bertie"--her voice thrilled +suddenly--"though it's all so hopeless, do you think it isn't easier for +me now that I know? Do you think I would have it otherwise if I could?" + +His hand closed tightly upon hers with a quick, restraining pressure. He +could not answer her. + +For some seconds he did not speak at all. At length, "Then--you trust me +still, Christine?" he said, his voice very low. + +Her reply was instant and unfaltering. "I shall trust you as long as I +live." + +He was silent again for a space. Then suddenly he uncovered his face and +looked at her. Again their eyes met, with the perfect intimacy of a +perfect understanding. + +"_Eh bien_," Bertrand said, speaking slowly and heavily, as one labouring +under an immense burden, "I will be worthy of your confidence. You are +right, little comrade. We have travelled too far together--you and I--to +fear to strike upon the rocks now." + +He paused a moment, then quietly rose, drawing her to her feet. So for a +while he stood, her hands clasped in his, seeming still upon the verge of +speech, but finding no words. His eyes smiled sadly upon her, as the eyes +of a friend saying good-bye. At last he stooped, and reverently as though +he sealed an oath thereby, he pressed his lips upon the hands he held. + +An instant later he straightened himself, and in unbroken silence turned +and left her. + +It was one of the simplest tragedies ever played on the world's stage. +They had found each other--too late, and there was nothing more to be +said. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE TURN OF THE TIDE + + +It was evening when Mordaunt returned on the following day. He was met at +the station by Noel. Holmes was in charge of the motor, and greeted his +master with obvious relief. The care of the youngest Wyndham was plainly +a responsibility he did not care to shoulder for long. + +"All well?" Mordaunt asked, as he emerged from the station with his young +brother-in-law hooked effusively on his arm. + +"All well, sir," said Holmes, with the air of a sentry relaxing after +long and arduous duty. + +"Flourishing," said Noel, "though it's the greatest wonder you haven't +come back to find Chris a heap of ashes. She would have been if Bertrand +hadn't--at great personal risk--put her out." + +"What has happened?" demanded Mordaunt sharply. + +"All's well, sir," said Holmes reassuringly. + +"Fireworks!" explained Noel. "My word, I made some beauties! I wish you +could have seen 'em. I got singed a bit myself. But, then, that's only +what one would expect playing with fire, eh, Trevor?" He rubbed his cheek +ingratiatingly against Mordaunt's shoulder. "You needn't be anxious. +Chris was really none the worse. But the Frenchman had a bad attack of +blue funk when the danger was over, and nearly fainted. He's feeling +ashamed of himself apparently, for I haven't seen him since. By the way, +Aunt Phil and Chris had a mill yesterday, and the old lady is suffering +from a very stiff neck in consequence. I asked Chris what she did to it, +but she wouldn't tell me. Thank the gods, she goes to-morrow! You'll let +me drive her to the station, won't you? I should like to go to heaven in +Aunt Phil's company. She would be sure to get into the smartest set at +once." + +He rattled on in the same cheery strain without intermission throughout +the return journey, having imparted enough to make Mordaunt thoroughly +uneasy, notwithstanding Holmes's assurance. + +The first person he met upon entering the house was Aunt Philippa. She +accorded him a glacial reception, and explained that Chris had retired to +bed with a severe headache. + +"It's come on very suddenly," remarked Noel, with frank incredulity. +"Where's Bertrand? Has he got a headache too?" + +Aunt Philippa had no information to offer with regard to the French +secretary! She merely observed that she had given orders for dinner +to be served in a quarter of an hour, and therewith swept away to the +drawing-room. + +Mordaunt shook off his young brother-in-law without ceremony, and went +straight up to his wife's room. + +His low knock elicited no reply, and he opened the door softly and +entered. + +The room was in semi-darkness, but Chris's voice accosted him instantly. + +"Is that you, Trevor? I'm here, lying down. I had rather a headache, or I +would have come to meet you." + +Her words were rapid and sounded feverish, as though she were braced for +some ordeal. She was lying with her back to the curtained windows and her +face in shadow. + +Mordaunt went forward with light tread to the bed. "Poor child!" he said +gently. + +He stooped and kissed her, and found that she was trembling. Quietly he +took her hand into his, and began to feel her pulse. + +She made a nervous movement to frustrate him, but he gently insisted and +she became passive. + +"There is nothing serious the matter," she said uneasily. "I--I didn't +sleep very well last night, that's all. I thought you wouldn't mind if I +didn't come to meet you." + +Mordaunt, with the tell-tale, fluttering pulse under his fingers, made +gentle reply. "Of course not, dear. I think you are quite right to take +care of yourself. Is your head very bad?" + +"No, not now. I think I'm just tired. I shall be all right after a +night's rest." + +Again she tried to slip her hand out of his grasp, and after a moment he +let it go. + +"Please don't worry about me," she said. "You won't, will you?" + +"Not if there is really no reason for it," he said. + +She stirred restlessly. "There isn't--indeed. Aunt Philippa will tell you +that. I was letting off fireworks with Noel only last night." + +"And set fire to yourself," said Mordaunt. + +She started a little. "Who told you that?" + +"Noel." + +"Oh! Well, nothing happened, thanks to--to Bertie. He put it out for me." + +"I think there had better not be any more fireworks unless I am there," +Mordaunt said. "I don't like to think of my wife running risks of that +sort." + +"Very well, Trevor," she said meekly. + +"Where did the fireworks come from?" he pursued. + +"We made them--Noel and I. We used some of your cartridges for gunpowder. +He got saltpetre and one or two other things from the chemist. They were +quite a success," said Chris, with a touch of her old light gaiety. + +"And you are paying for it to-day," he said. "It will be a good thing +when Noel goes back to school." + +"Oh no," she answered quickly. "It wasn't the fireworks. I often have +wakeful nights." + +It was the first time she had ever alluded to the fact. He wondered if +she would summon the courage to tell him something further. He earnestly +hoped she would; but he hoped in vain. Chris said no more. + +He paused for a full minute to give her time, but, save that she became +tensely still, she made no sign. Very quietly he let the matter pass. He +would not force her confidence, but he realized at that moment more +clearly than ever before that she had only really belonged to him during +the brief fortnight that they had been alone together. The two months of +their married life had but served to teach him this somewhat bitter +lesson, and he determined then and there to win her back as he had won +her at the outset, to make her his once more and to keep her so for ever. + +"I am going to take you away, Chris," he said. "You are wanting a change. +Noel's holidays will be over next week. We will start then." + +"Where shall we go?" said Chris, and he detected the relief with which +she hailed the change of subject. + +"We will go to Valpré," he said, with quiet decision. + +"Valpré!" The word leaped out as if of its own volition. Chris suddenly +sprang upright from her pillows, and gazed at him wide-eyed. In the dim +light he could not see her face distinctly, but there was something +almost suggestive of fear in her attitude. "Why Valpré?" she said, in a +queer, breathless undertone as if she could not control her voice. + +He looked down at her in surprise. "You would like to go to Valpré again, +wouldn't you?" + +She gasped. "I--I really don't know. But what made you choose it? You +have never been there." + +"No," he said. "You will be able to introduce me to all your old haunts." + +She gasped again. "You chose it because of that?" + +He put a steadying hand upon her shoulder. "Chris, what makes you so +nervous, child? No, I didn't choose it because of that. As a matter of +fact, I didn't choose it at all. I am due there on business in three +weeks' time, but I thought we might put in a fortnight together there +beforehand. Wouldn't you like that?" + +She shivered under his hand, and made no reply. She only said, "What +business?" + +He hesitated a moment, then deliberately sat down upon the bed and drew +her close to him. "You remember that blackguard Frenchman Rodolphe who +was staying with the Pounceforts two or three weeks ago?" + +"Yes," whispered Chris. + +"He is to be court-martialled at Valpré, and I have accepted an offer to +go as correspondent to the _Morning Despatch_ and report upon his trial. +As you know, I represented them at Bertrand's _affaire,_ and this is a +sequel to that. In fact, Bertrand himself is very nearly concerned in it. +Certain transactions have recently come to light tending to show that the +crime of which he was accused was not only committed by this same +Rodolphe, but that he also deliberately manufactured evidence to shield +himself at the expense of Bertrand, the author of the betrayed invention, +against whom it seems he had a personal grudge. By the way, he managed +skilfully to keep in the background at Bertrand's trial. I fancy he was +away on some special mission at the time, and he did not appear. I never +saw him before that day at Sandacre Court, and I did not so much as know +then that he and Bertrand were acquainted. Did you know that?" + +She started at the question, but answered it more naturally than she had +before spoken. "Yes. I knew that Bertie had belonged to the same +regiment. They did not speak to each other that afternoon. You see, I was +there." + +"Ah! And you never met him in the old Valpré days?" + +Again she answered without apparent agitation; but her hands were fast +gripped together in the gloom. "I may have seen him. I never spoke to +him. Bertie was the only one I ever knew." + +"Ah!" Mordaunt said again. He was plainly thinking of Bertrand's affairs. +"Well, he is to stand his trial now, and I couldn't resist the chance of +being present at it. He was recalled to Paris a week ago, and summarily +arrested; but as popular feeling is running very high, the trial is to be +held at Valpré, which is a fairly important military station. That means +that the court-martial will take place probably in the fortress in which +the crime was committed--a pleasing consummation of justice." + +"And--Bertie will be vindicated?" breathed Chris. + +"If Rodolphe is convicted," Mordaunt answered, "Bertrand will be in a +position to return to France and demand a second trial, the outcome of +which would be practically a foregone conclusion, and at which I hope I +shall be present." + +Chris drew a sharp breath. "Then--then he will go to Valpré too?" + +"Not yet. He would be arrested and imprisoned if he did, and might +possibly ruin his cause as well. No, he will have to play a waiting game +for the present. I think myself it is the turn of the tide, but things +may yet go against him. There is no knowing. He is better off where he is +till we can see which way the matter will go. He doesn't want to spend +the rest of his life in a fortress." + +Chris shuddered uncontrollably at the bare thought. "Oh no--no! Trevor, +you won't let him run any risk of that?" + +"I shall certainly counsel prudence," Mordaunt answered. "If he runs any +risks, it will be with his eyes open." + +He paused a moment, then turned her face tenderly up to his own, and +kissed it. "And you don't like the Valpré plan?" he said, with great +gentleness. + +She hesitated. + +"We can go elsewhere if you prefer it," he said. "The court-martial will +probably only take a few days. We can stay somewhere near while it is in +progress. But I must have you with me wherever it is." + +He spoke the last words with his arms closely enfolding her. She turned +with sudden impulse and clasped him round the neck. + +"Oh, Trevor," she murmured brokenly, "you are good to me--you are good!" + +"My darling," he whispered back, "your happiness is mine--always." + +She made a choked sound of dissent. "I'm horribly selfish," she said, +with a sob. + +"No, dear, no. I understand. I ought to have thought of it before." + +She knew that he was thinking of Cinders, and that a return to the old +haunts could but serve to reopen a wound that was scarcely closed. She +was thankful that he interpreted her reluctance thus, even while she +marvelled to herself as she realized how far she had travelled since the +bitter day on which she had parted with her favourite. Looking back, she +saw now clearly what that tragedy had meant to her. It had been indeed +the commencement of a new stage in her life's journey. It was on that day +that she had finally stepped forth from the summer fields of her +childhood, and she knew that she would wander in them no more for ever. + +The thought went through her with a dart of pain. They had been very +green, those fields, and the great thoroughfare which now she trod seemed +cruelly hard to her unaccustomed feet. + +A sharp sigh escaped her as she gently withdrew herself from her +husband's arms. "Shall we talk about it to-morrow?" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" + + +Sitting in his writing-room with Bertrand that night Mordaunt imparted +the news that concerned him so nearly. + +The young Frenchman listened in almost unbroken silence, betraying +neither surprise nor even a very great measure of interest. He sat and +smoked, with eyes downcast, sometimes fidgeting a little with the fingers +of one hand on the arm of his chair, but otherwise displaying no sign of +agitation. + +Only at the end of the narration did he glance up, and that was but +momentarily, when Mordaunt said, "It transpires that this Rodolphe had an +old score to pay off. You were enemies?" + +Bertrand removed his cigarette to reply, "That is true." + +"You once fought a duel with him?" Mordaunt proceeded. + +Bertrand's eyelids quivered, but he did not raise them. He merely +answered, "Yes." + +"That fact will probably figure in the evidence," Mordaunt said. "The +cause of the duel is at present unknown." + +"It is--immaterial," Bertrand said, in a very low voice. He paused a +moment, then said, "And you, you will be at the trial to report?" + +"Yes. I am going. Chris will go with me." + +"Ah!" The exclamation seemed involuntary. Bertrand's hand suddenly +clenched hard upon the chair-arm. "You will take her--to Valpré?" he +questioned. + +"Probably not to the place itself," Mordaunt made answer. "I think she is +not very anxious to go there. It has associations that she would rather +not renew. We shall stay somewhere within easy reach of Valpré. Perhaps +you can tell me of a suitable resting-place not too far away. You know +that part of the world." + +"I know it well," Bertrand said, and fell silent, as though pondering the +matter. At the end of a lengthy pause he spoke, abruptly, with just a +tinge of nervousness. "But why do you take her if she does not desire to +go?" + +Mordaunt raised his brows a little. + +"You will pardon me," Bertrand added quickly, "but it occurs to me that +possibly she may prefer to remain at home. And if that were the case you +would not, I hope, consider my presence here as an obstacle, for"--again +he flashed a swift look across--"it is not my intention to remain." + +"What are your intentions?" Mordaunt asked. + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know yet. Circumstances will +decide. But it is certain that I can trespass no more upon your kindness. +I have already accepted too much from you--more than I can ever hope to +repay. Moreover"--he paused--"I do not wish to inconvenience you, and +since I cannot accompany you to France--" he paused again, and finally +decided to say no more. + +"Chris will go with me in any case," said Mordaunt quietly. "We have +already arranged that. You would cause no inconvenience to anyone by +staying here. In fact, it would be to my advantage." + +"To your advantage!" Bertrand echoed the words sharply, as if in some +fashion they hurt him; and then, "But no," he said with decision. "It has +never been to your advantage to employ me. You have done it from the +kindness of your heart, but it would have been better for you if you had +entrusted your affairs to a man more capable. And for that reason I am +going to ask you to find another secretary as soon as possible, one who +will perform his duties faithfully and merit his pay." + +"Is that the only reason?" Mordaunt asked unexpectedly. + +There fell a sudden silence. Bertrand, with bent head, appeared to be +closely examining the leather on which his fingers still drummed an +uneasy tattoo. At last, "It is the only reason which I have to give you," +he said, his voice very low. + +"It is not a very sound one," Mordaunt remarked. + +Again that quick shrug of the shoulders, and silence. Several moments +passed. Then with an abrupt movement Bertrand rose, laid aside his +cigarette, which had gone out, and seated himself at the writing-table. + +A pile of letters lay upon it that had arrived by the evening post. He +began to turn them over, and presently took up a paper-cutter and deftly +slit them open one by one. + +Mordaunt sat and smoked as one lost in thought. Finally, after a long +silence, he looked up and spoke. + +"Why this sudden hurry to dissolve partnership, Bertrand?" he asked, with +his kindly smile. "Is it this Rodolphe affair that has unsettled you? +Because surely it would be wiser to wait and see what is going to happen +before you take any decided step of this sort." + +"Ah! It is not that!" Bertrand spoke with a vehemence that sounded almost +passionate. "It is nothing to me--this affair. It interests me--not +that!" He snapped his fingers contemptuously. "No, no! The time for that +is past. What is honour, or dishonour, to me now--me who have been down +to the lowest abyss and who have learned the true value of what the world +calls great? Once--I admit it--I was young; I suffered. Now I am old, +and--I laugh!" + +Yet there was a note that was more suggestive of heartbreak than of mirth +in his voice. He applied himself feverishly to extracting a letter from +an envelope, while Mordaunt sat and gravely watched him. + +Suddenly, but very quietly, Mordaunt rose, strolled across, and took the +fluttering paper out of his hands. "Bertrand!" he said. + +The Frenchman looked up sharply, almost as if he would resent the action, +but something in the steady eyes that met his own altered the course of +his emotions. He leaned back in his chair with the gesture of a man +confronting the inevitable. + +Mordaunt sat down on the edge of the writing-table, face to face with +him. "Tell me why you want to leave me," he said. + +There was determination in his attitude, determination in the very +coolness of his speech. It was quite obvious that he meant to have an +answer. + +Bertrand contemplated him with a faint, rueful smile. "But what shall I +say?" he protested. "You English are so persistent. You will not be +content with the simple truth. You demand always--something more." + +"There you are mistaken," Mordaunt made grave reply. "It is the simple +truth that I want--nothing more." + +"_Ciel_!" Bertrand jumped in his chair as if he had been stabbed in the +back. "You insult me!" + +Mordaunt's hand came out to him instantly and reassuringly. "My dear +fellow, I never insult anyone. It is not my way." + +"But you do not believe me!" Bertrand protested. "And that is an +insult--that." + +"I believe you absolutely." Very quietly Mordaunt made answer. The hand +he would not take was laid with great kindness on his shoulder. "I happen +to know you too well to do otherwise. Why, man," he began to smile a +little, "if all the world turned false, I should still believe in you." + +"_Tiens_!" The word was almost a cry. Bertrand shook the friendly hand +from his shoulder as if it had been some evil thing, and almost with the +same movement pushed his chair back sharply out of reach. "You should not +say these things to me!" he stammered forth incoherently. "I do not +deserve them. I am not--I am not what you imagine. You do not know me. I +do not know myself. I--I--" He broke off in agitation and sprang +impetuously to his feet. + +With a gesture half-hopeless, half-appealing, he turned and walked to the +window, as if he could no longer bear to meet the level, grey eyes that +watched him with so kindly a confidence. + +There fell a silence in the room while Mordaunt, still sitting on the +writing-table, deliberately finished his cigarette. That done, he spoke. + +"Don't you think you had better tell me what is the matter?" + +Bertrand jerked his shoulders convulsively; it was the only response he +made. + +Mordaunt waited a few moments more. Then, "Very well," he said, without +change of tone or countenance. "We will dismiss the subject. If you +really mean to leave me, I will accept your resignation in the morning, +but not to-night. If--as I hope--you have thought better of it by then +and decide to remain, nothing further need be said. Will that satisfy +you?" + +Bertrand wheeled abruptly, and stood facing him, the length of the room +intervening. His mouth worked as if he were trying to speak, but he said +nothing whatever. + +Mordaunt turned without further words to the letter in his hand, and +studied it in silence. After a pause Bertrand came slowly back to the +writing-table. He had mastered his agitation, but he looked unutterably +tired. + +Mordaunt moved to one side at his approach. "Sit down!" he said, without +raising his eyes. + +Bertrand sat down, and began to turn his attention to sorting the letters +he had opened. Mordaunt stood motionless, reading with bent brows. + +Suddenly he spoke. "There is something here I can't understand." + +Bertrand glanced up. "Can I assist?" + +"I don't know. Read that!" Mordaunt laid the letter before him. "I can't +account for it. I think it must be a mistake." + +Bertrand took the letter and read it. It was an intimation from the bank +that in consequence of the bearer cheque for five hundred pounds +presented and cashed the week before, Mordaunt's account was overdrawn. + +"What cheque can it be?" Mordaunt said. "Have you any idea?" + +Bertrand shook his head. "But no! It is perhaps some charity--a gift that +you have forgotten?" + +"My good fellow, I may be careless, but I'm not so damned careless as +that." Mordaunt pulled out a bunch of keys with the words. "Let me have a +look at my cheque-book. You know where it is." + +Yes, Bertrand knew. He was as cognizant of the whereabouts of Mordaunt's +possessions as if they had been his own, and he had as free an access to +them. Such was the confidence reposed in him. + +He took the keys, selected the right one, stooped to fit it into the +lock. And then suddenly something happened. A violent tremor went through +him. He clutched at the table-edge, and the keys clattered to the ground. + +"Hullo!" Mordaunt said. + +Bertrand was staring downwards with eyes that saw not. At the sound of +Mordaunt's voice he started, and began to grope on the floor for the keys +as if stricken blind. + +"There they are, man, by your feet." Mordaunt stooped and recovered them +himself. "What's the matter? Aren't you well?" + +Bertrand lifted a ghastly face. "I am quite well," he said. "But--but +surely the bank would not cash a cheque so large without reference to +you!" + +Mordaunt looked at him a moment. "I have been in the habit of drawing +large sums," he said. "But I usually write a note to the bank to +accompany a cheque of this sort." + +He turned to the drawer and unlocked it. His cheque-book lay in its +accustomed place within. He took it out and commenced a careful +examination of the counterfoils of cheques already drawn. + +Bertrand sat quite motionless, with bowed head. He seemed to be numbly +waiting for something. + +Mordaunt was very deliberate in his search. He came to the end of the +counterfoils only, but went quietly on through the sheaf of blank cheques +that remained, gravely scrutinizing each. + +Minutes passed. Bertrand was sunk in his chair as one bent beneath some +overpowering weight, the pile of letters untouched before him. + +Suddenly Mordaunt paused, became tense for an instant, then slowly +relaxed. His eyes travelled from the open cheque-book to the man in the +chair. He contemplated him silently. + +After the lapse of several seconds, he laid the open book upon the table +before him. "A cheque has been abstracted here," he said. + +His voice was perfectly quiet. He made the statement as if there were +nothing extraordinary in it, as if he felt assured that there must be +some perfectly simple explanation to account for it, as if, in fact, he +scarcely recognized the existence of any mystery. + +But Bertrand uttered not a word. He was as one turned to stone. His eyes +became fixed upon the cheque in front of him, but his stare was wide and +vacant. He seemed to be thinking of something else. + +There fell a dead silence in the room, a stillness in which the quiet +ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece became maddeningly obtrusive. For +seconds that dragged out interminably neither of the two men stirred. It +was as if they were mutely listening to that eternal ticking, as one +listens to the tramp of a watchman in the dead of night. + +Then, at last, with a movement curiously impulsive, Trevor Mordaunt freed +himself from the spell. He laid his hand once more upon his secretary's +shoulder. + +"Bertrand!" he said, and in his voice interrogation, incredulity, even +entreaty, were oddly mingled. "You!" + +The Frenchman shivered, and came out of his lethargy. He threw a single +glance upwards, then suddenly bowed his head on his hands. But still he +spoke no word. + +Mordaunt's hand fell from him. He stood a moment, then turned and walked +away. "So that was the reason!" he said. + +He came to a stand a few feet away from the bent figure at the +writing-table, took out his cigarette-case, and deliberately lighted a +cigarette. His face as he did it was grimly composed, but there were +lines in it that very few had ever seen there. His eyes were keen and +cold as steel. They held neither anger nor contempt, only a tinge of +humour inexpressibly bitter. + +Finally, through a cloud of smoke, he spoke again. "Have you nothing to +say?" + +Bertrand stirred, but he did not lift his head. "Nothing," he muttered, +almost inarticulately. + +"Then"--very evenly came the words--"that ends the case. I have nothing +to say, either. You can go as soon as you wish." + +He spoke with the utmost distinctness. His head was tilted back, and his +eyes, still with that icy glint of amusement in them, watched the smoke +ascending from his cigarette. + +There was a brief pause. Then Bertrand stumbled stiffly to his feet. He +seemed to move with difficulty. He turned heavily towards the Englishman. + +"Monsieur," he said with ceremony, "you have--I believe--the right to +prosecute me." + +Mordaunt did not even look at him. "I believe I have," he said. + +"_Alors--_" the Frenchman paused. + +"I shall not exercise it," Mordaunt said curtly. + +"You are too generous," Bertrand answered. + +He spoke without emotion, yet there was something in his tone--something +remotely suggestive of irony--that brought Mordaunt's eyes down to him. +He looked at him hard and straight. + +But Bertrand did not meet the look. With a mournful gesture he turned +away. "I shall never cease to regret," he said, "the unhappy fate that +sent me into your life. I blame myself bitterly--bitterly. I should have +drawn back at the commencement, but I had not the strength. Only +monsieur, believe this"--his voice suddenly trembled--"it was never my +intention to rob you. Moreover, that which I have taken--I will restore." + +He spoke very earnestly, with a baffling touch of dignity that seemed in +some fashion to place him out of reach of contempt. + +Mordaunt heard him without impatience, and replied without scorn. "What +you have taken can never be restored. The utmost you can do is to let me +forget, as soon as possible, that I ever imagined you to be--what you +are not." + +The simplicity of the words effected in an instant that which neither +taunt nor sneer could ever have accomplished. It pierced straight to +Bertrand's heart. He turned back impulsively, with outstretched hands. + +"But, my friend--my friend--" he cried brokenly. + +Mordaunt checked him on the instant with a single imperious gesture of +dismissal, so final that it could not be ignored. + +The words died on Bertrand's lips. He wheeled sharply, as if at a word of +command, and went to the door. + +But as he opened it, Mordaunt spoke. "I will see you again in the +morning." + +"Is it necessary?" Bertrand said. + +"I desire it." Mordaunt spoke with authority. + +Bertrand turned and made him a brief, punctilious bow. "That is enough," +he said, and left the room martially, his head in the air. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DESPERATE REMEDY + + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck two, and Mordaunt rose from his chair +to close the window. The night was very still and dark. He stood for a +few moments breathing the moist air. From somewhere away in the distance +there came the weird cry of an owl--the only sound in a waste of silence. +He leaned his head against the window-sash with a sensation of physical +sickness. His heart was heavy as lead. + +"Trevor!" + +It was no more than a whisper, but he heard it. He turned. "Chris!" + +She stood before him, her white draperies caught together with one hand, +her hair flowing in wide ripples all about her, her eyes anxiously raised +to his. + +"Trevor," she said, "what is the matter?" + +There was a species of desperate courage in the low question. The fingers +that grasped her wrapper were tightly clenched. + +He closed the window. "Have you been lying awake for me?" he said. "I am +sorry." + +"Something is the matter," she said with conviction. "Won't you tell me +what it is? I--I would rather know." + +"I will tell you in the morning, dear," he said gently. "You must go back +to bed. I am coming myself now." + +But Chris stood still. "I want to know now, please, Trevor," she said. "I +shall not sleep at all unless I know." + +He put his arm about her, looking down at her with great tenderness. +"Must I tell you now?" he said, a hint of weariness in his voice. + +She did not resist his touch, but neither did she yield herself to him. +She stood within the encircling arm, looking straight up at him with +wide, resolute eyes. + +"It is something to do with Bertie," she said, in the same tone of +unquestioning conviction. + +He raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think so?" + +She frowned a little. "It doesn't matter, does it? Won't you tell me what +has happened?" + +He hesitated momentarily; then; "Yes, I will tell you," he said. +"Bertrand is leaving to-morrow--for good." + +He felt her stiffen against his arm, and for the first time he noticed +her pallor and the unusual steadfastness of her eyes. He realized that +she was putting strong restraint upon herself, and the fact made her +strangely unfamiliar to him. He was accustomed to vivid speech and +impetuous action. He scarcely knew her in this mood, although he +recognized that he had seen it at least once before. + +"Why?" Her lips scarcely moved as they asked the question. Her eyes never +left his face. + +He drew her to the writing-table on which his cheque-book still lay open +at the place whence a cheque had been abstracted with its counterfoil. + +"Sit down," he said, "and I will tell you." + +She sat down in silence. + +He knelt beside her as he had knelt on their wedding-night, and took her +cold hands into his own. + +"I think you know," he said quietly, "that I have always trusted Bertrand +implicitly." + +"You trust everyone," she said, with a small, aloof smile, as if she were +trying to appear courteous while her thoughts were elsewhere. + +"Yes, to my undoing," he told her grimly. "I trusted him to the utmost, +and--and he has betrayed my trust." + +She started at that, but instantly controlled herself. "In what way?" she +asked him, her voice scarcely above a whisper. + +He drew the cheque-book to him. "If you look at this cheque and the +next," he said, "you will see that there is one missing. There has been a +cheque taken out." + +"Yes?" said Chris. + +Her eyes rested for a moment upon the cheque-book, and returned to his +face. They held a curious expression as of relief and doubt mingled. + +"That is how he betrayed my trust," he told her quietly. "He used that +cheque to forge my signature and withdraw a sum of money from my account +which under ordinary circumstances I should probably never have missed. +As he is aware, I keep a large account, and I am in the habit of drawing +large cheques. As it chanced, the account was not quite so large as +usual, and it did not quite cover the amount withdrawn. Consequently my +attention was called to it, and I looked into the matter and +discovered--this." + +"Yes?" said Chris. "Yes?" + +She was breathing very fast. It was evident that her agitation was +getting beyond her control. + +He clasped her hands closer, with a warm and comforting pressure. He +knew--or he thought he knew--what this revelation would mean to her. Had +not Bertrand been even more her friend, her trusted counsellor, than his +own? + +"That is all the story, dear," he said gently. "We have got to face it as +bravely as we can. He will leave in the morning, so you need not see him +again." + +She made a quick, involuntary movement, and her hands slipped from his. + +"Not see him again!" she repeated, staring at him with wide eyes. "Not +see him again!" + +"I think it would be wiser not," he said, very kindly. "It would only +cause you unnecessary pain." + +She uttered a sudden breathless little laugh. "Trevor--am I dreaming? +Or--are you mad? You don't--actually--believe he did this thing?" + +His face hardened a little. "He had the sense not to attempt to deny it. +There was no question as to his guilt. He was the only person besides +myself who had access to my cheque-book." + +"But--" Chris said, and paused, as if to collect her thoughts. "How much +was taken?" she asked after a moment. + +"That," Mordaunt observed, "is the least important part of the whole +miserable business." + +"Still, tell me," she persisted. + +"He took five hundred pounds." + +"Trevor!" She gasped for breath, and turned so white that he thought for +a moment she would faint. + +He put his arm round her quickly. "Chris, we won't discuss it any further +to-night. You must go back to bed. You will catch cold if you stay here +any longer." + +But for the first time in her life she resisted him. She drew away from +him. She almost pushed him from her. + +"Five hundred pounds!" she said, speaking through white lips. She was +shivering violently from head to foot. "But--but--what should Bertie want +with five hundred pounds?" + +"I didn't inquire what he did with it." Mordaunt's answer came with +implacable sternness. "I haven't the least curiosity on that point. It is +enough for me that he took it." + +"Oh, Trevor, how hard you are!" The words rushed out like the cry of a +hurt creature, and suddenly Chris's hands were on his shoulders, and +her face, pinched and desperate, looked closely into his. "You have so +much--so much!" she wailed. "You don't know what temptation is!" + +He rose to his feet instantly and lifted her to hers. She was sobbing +terribly, but without tears. He held her to him, supporting her. + +"Chris, Chris!" he said. "Don't, child, don't! I know what this means to +you. It means a good deal to me too, more than you realize. But for +Heaven's sake let us stand together over it. Let us be reasonable." + +There was strong appeal in his voice; for in that moment, though he held +her to his heart, he knew that the gulf between them had suddenly begun +to widen. He saw the danger in a flash of intuition, but he was powerless +to avert it. They viewed the matter from opposite standpoints. Did they +not view all matters moral thus? She could condone what he could only +condemn, and because of this she deemed him hard and feared him. + +He bent his face to hers as he held her. His lips moved against her +forehead. "Chris," he said softly, "don't cry, dear! Listen to me. I'm +not going to punish him. He will have to go of course. As a matter of +fact, he meant to do so in any case. But it will go no further than that. +There will be no prosecution." + +She turned her face up quickly, and he saw that her eyes were dry, though +her breathing was spasmodic. "You couldn't prosecute an innocent man," +she said. "And he is innocent. I know he is innocent. You say he didn't +deny it. It was because he wouldn't stoop to deny it. He knew you would +never believe him if he did." + +The words came fast and passionate. She drew back from him to utter them, +and for the first time he read a challenge in her desperate eyes. + +He let her go out of his arms. He had tried to bridge the gulf, but the +distance was too great. His tenderness only gave her courage to defy him. + +With a stifled sigh he abandoned the conflict. "As I said before, there +is no question of his guilt," he said, with quiet emphasis. "Far from +denying it, he even announced his intention of restoring what he had +taken. That, of course, is also out of the question. He will probably +never be in a position to do so. But in any case it is beside the point. +It is useless to discuss it further." + +She broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Trevor, won't you believe me when +I say that I know--I know--he is innocent?" + +He looked at her. "How do you know it?" + +She wrung her hands together. "Oh, I have no proof! Can't you believe me +without proof?" + +He was watching her intently. "I believe in your sincerity, of course," +he said. "But I am afraid I don't share your conviction." + +"But you must--you must!" she cried. "I know him better than you do. I +know him to be incapable of the tiniest speck of dishonour. I swear that +he is innocent! I swear it! I swear it!" + +He put out a restraining hand. "Chris, don't say any more! You are +only upsetting yourself to no purpose. Come, child, it is useless to go +on--quite useless." + +She flung out her arms with a gesture of utter despair. "You won't +believe me?" + +He turned to lock up his cheque-book. "I have answered that question +already," he said, without impatience. + +She drew near to him. Her blue eyes burned with a feverish light. Her +face was haggard. "Trevor, what would you say if--if--I told you he were +shielding someone--if I told you he were shielding--me?" Her voice sank +upon the word. + +He turned sharply round, so sharply that she shrank. But he made no +movement towards her. He only looked full and piercingly into her face. +At the end of ten seconds he spoke, so calmly that his voice sounded +cold. + +"I am afraid I shouldn't believe you." + +His eyes fell away from her with the words. He dropped his keys into his +pocket and switched off the light from his writing-table. + +Chris was shivering again, shivering from head to foot. She could barely +keep her teeth from chattering. He came to her and put his arm round her. + +She glanced up at him nervously, but his quiet face told her nothing. +Almost involuntarily she suffered him to lead her from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WHEN LOVE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE + + +When Chris awoke, the morning sunshine was streaming in through the open +windows, and she was alone. She came back to full remembrance slowly, as +one toiling along a difficult road. Her brain felt very tired. She lay +vaguely listening to the gay trill of a robin on the terrace below, +dreading the moment when the dull ache at her heart should turn to active +pain. + +A cheery whistle on the gravel under her windows roused her at last. She +took up her burden again with a great sigh. + +"O God!" she whispered, as she turned her heavy head upon the pillow, "do +let me die soon--do let me die soon!" + +But there was no voice nor any that answered. + +Wearily at length she raised herself. It was curious how ill she felt. +She looked longingly back at her pillow. + +At the same instant the gay whistle in the garden gave place to a cracked +shout. "Hullo, Chris! Aren't you going to get up to-day? Do you know what +time it is?" + +She started, and looked at her watch. Ten o'clock! In amazement and +consternation she sprang from the bed. Bertrand was to leave in the +morning; so Trevor had told her. She must--she must--see him before he +left! Doubtless Trevor had hoped that she would sleep on till the +afternoon, and so miss him. How little he knew! How little he understood! + +With a bound she reached the window, there a sudden dizziness attacked +her. She clutched at the curtain with both hands. What if he had gone +already? What if she were never to see him again? + +Desperately she steadied herself. She must not give way thus. She looked +out and saw Noel, walking along the edge of the balustrade that bounded +the terrace. His arms were outstretched, and he balanced himself with +extreme difficulty. It looked perilous, but she knew him well enough to +feel no anxiety, notwithstanding the fact that there was a fall of twelve +feet on one side of him. + +After a few moments she commanded herself sufficiently to call down to +him, "Noel, where is everybody?" + +He looked up, lost his balance, and sprang down upon the terrace. "By +Jove! Aren't you dressed yet? What are we coming to? Trevor is gone to +ride round the estate, wouldn't have me for some reason. Bertrand is in +his room with the door locked, says he is busy--all bally rot, of course. +And Aunt Phil, thank the gods! is packing her trunk to leave by the five +o'clock train. By the way, Trevor said I was to see you had some +breakfast. What would you like? I'll bring it up to you myself in two +shakes." + +Chris felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat. Somehow the tenderness +of her husband's love hurt her more than it comforted just then. She knew +that he had absented himself and deputed Noel to wait upon her because he +had divined that she would prefer it. His intuition frightened her also. +Was he beginning to divine other things as well? Recalling his intent +look of the night before, the wonder struck chill to her heart. Yes, she +was thankful that he had gone; but it would be horribly hard to meet him +again after she and Bertrand had said good-bye. Aunt Philippa's +departure, eagerly though she had anticipated it, would make it harder. +Very soon Noel also would be gone, and they would be alone together. How +would she keep her secret then? How hide her soul from those grave, keen +eyes that probed so deeply? + +Ah! but he trusted her; he trusted her! Back to the old sheet-anchor flew +her whirling thoughts. His faith in her was invincible, unassailable. It +kept her safe. It sheltered her from every danger. It was her single +safeguard in temptation; without it she would be lost. + +She swallowed the lump in her throat, and leaned from the window to give +her brother the instructions he awaited. + +Turning back into the room, she found a note in her husband's handwriting +lying on her table. She took it up. + +"I do not forbid you to see Bertrand," it ran, "though I think you would +be wiser not to do so. I have already taken leave of him. He refuses to +be open with me, so there is no more to be said. It is by his own wish +that he is leaving to-day. As I said to you last night, I shall take no +legal steps against him, but that does not alter the fact that he is a +criminal, and for that reason your friendship with him must cease. I am +sorry, but it is inevitable. I think you will see it for yourself by and +bye, but till then my prohibition must be enough. I cannot be disobeyed +in this matter. Bear it in mind, dear, and believe that, even though I +may seem hard, I am acting for your welfare, which is more to me than +anything else on earth. + +"Yours, +TREVOR." + +Her face was white and strained as she read the note through. She seemed +to hear her husband's quiet voice in every sentence. Never till that +moment had she fully realized the fact that he had the right thus to +guide and restrain her actions. Never till that moment had she found her +will in direct opposition to his. A sudden passion of rebellion swept +upon her, possessed her. It was intolerable, impossible; she could not +submit to the mandate. + +To give up her friend--the dear knight of her girlhood's dreams--to see +him never again, to close her heart to him, to shut out the very memory +of him, to take up her life without him--no, never, never, never! Her +throbbing heart cried out against it. It was not to be borne. A fury akin +to hatred surged up within her. There was no man living who could make +her do this thing. + +Fiercely she tore the paper across and across, and flung the fragments +from her. Never would she consent to this! She would defy him sooner! + +Defy him! It was as if a voice spoke suddenly in her soul, asking a quiet +question. Could she defy him and still hide her secret? Would not the +steady eyes read her through and through the instant that her will +resisted his? Would he not know in a moment? Was it not even possible +that he had begun already to suspect? + +Again she recalled his intent look of the night before, and her heart +misgave her. Had she betrayed herself? Had he seen behind the veil? She +shivered at the thought, and for a few moments she was overwhelmingly +afraid. How would she ever meet those eyes again? + +But when presently Noel presented himself she had recovered her +self-command. She even compelled herself to eat some breakfast, while he +balanced himself on the window-sill and made careless conversation. It +was evident that he knew nothing of Bertrand's impending departure, and +she was relieved that this was so. She could not have borne his curiosity +or his comments. + +"What are you going to do to-day?" she presently inquired. + +"When you've had a decent meal, I'm going for a ride," he answered +promptly. "Can't waste the whole day hanging about and Fiddle's spoiling +for a gallop. You won't come, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. "No. I couldn't, anyhow. I must stay with Aunt +Philippa to-day. I've had quite a lot to eat. Don't wait." + +He sprang to his feet at once. "You haven't done badly, have you, +considering you've been lazing in bed instead of working up an appetite +in the open air? I say, Chris, there's nothing the matter, is there?" + +"Of course not," she returned briskly. "Why?" + +"You're not looking exactly chirpy," he said, regarding her critically. +"And Trevor was positively bearish this morning. He hasn't been bullying +you, has he?" + +"Of course not," she said again. "How absurd you are!" + +He looked incredulous. "Don't you stick it!" he warned her. "If he tries +it on, you come to me. I'll settle him." + +She laughed and turned the subject. "Hadn't you better start? It's +getting late." + +"P'raps I had. Good-bye, then!" He bent unexpectedly and kissed her +cheek. "We'll go for a picnic to-morrow," he said, "to celebrate Aunt +Phil's departure. Keep your pecker up! She'll soon be gone." + +He marched away, whistling, and Chris was alone. + +She rose and finished her dressing with feverish haste. Now was her time. + +Noel had said Bertrand was in his room. She must see him alone. But how +should she let him know? If she went in search of him she might encounter +Aunt Philippa and be detained. She went down to her husband's room, and +rang the bell there. + +Holmes answered it in some surprise, knowing his master to be out; but +she gave him no time for speculation. + +"Holmes," she said, "I believe Mr. Bertrand is somewhere in the house. I +wish you would find him, and say I am waiting to speak to him on a matter +of importance. I am going into the garden. He will find me under the +yew-tree." + +Holmes departed with his customary dispatch. There was something +indefinable about his young mistress that made him wish his master were +at hand. He made his way to Bertrand's room and knocked. + +There was no immediate reply; then, "I am busy," said Bertrand from +within. + +"If you please, sir!" said Holmes. + +There was a movement in the room at once, and the door opened. "Ah! It is +the good Holmes!" said Bertrand. "I thought that it was Monsieur Noel. +What is it, then? You bring me a message?" + +He looked at the man with sleepless eyes that shone curiously bright. In +the room behind him a portmanteau, half-filled, lay upon the floor. + +For a single instant Holmes hesitated before delivering his message. Then +he gave it punctiliously, word for word. + +"I am obliged to you," said Bertrand courteously. "I shall go to Mrs. +Mordaunt at once." + +He crossed the threshold therewith, but paused a moment outside the room. + +"Holmes," he said, "I go to London by the 11.50. Will you arrange for my +luggage to be taken to the station?" + +Holmes's well-ordered countenance expressed no surprise. "Very good, sir. +And you yourself, sir?" he said. + +"I shall walk," said Bertrand. + +"You would like me to finish packing for you, sir?" suggested Holmes. + +"Ah! That would be very good." Bertrand's voice expressed relief. He +stepped back into the room to slip a sovereign into the man's hand. + +But Holmes drew back. "Thank you, sir. I'd rather not, sir." + +Bertrand's brows went up. "How? But we are friends, no?" he questioned. + +"I don't know, sir," said Holmes, respectful but firm. "Anyhow, I'd +rather not, sir." + +"_Eh bien_!" The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and turned. "_Adieu_, +Holmes!" he said. + +"Good-day, sir!" said Holmes. + +He stood in the middle of the room till Bertrand had gone, then with an +expressionless face he betook himself to the door of Aunt Philippa's +room. + +Here he knocked again, and, receiving Mrs. Forest's permission to enter, +presented himself on the threshold. "I have come to say, madam, that Mrs. +Mordaunt is in the garden under the old yew," he announced deferentially. +"Will you be good enough to join her there?" + +Aunt Philippa, in the midst of her own preparations for departure, +received the news with considerable surprise. It was not Chris's custom +to send her messages of any description. The summons fired her curiosity; +but her dignity would not allow her to hasten overmuch to answer it. + +"I will be with Mrs. Mordaunt in a few minutes," she said. + +And Holmes departed, impassive still but with a mind uneasy. He wished +with all his soul that the master had not chosen to absent himself that +morning. Perhaps he was unreasonably nervous, but there seemed to be +tragedy in the very air. + +Bertrand, traversing the lawn bareheaded, was keenly aware of tragedy; +but it did not delay his steps. He went down the shady path that led to +Chris's retreat at a speed that left him breathless. He paused with his +hand to his heart as he reached the yew-tree before plunging into the +gloom beneath its great, drooping branches. He was living too fast, and +he knew it, could almost feel his life running out like the sand in an +hour-glass. But a great recklessness possessed him. If his strength could +only be made to last for a couple of hours more, he did not care what +happened to him, how soon the sand ran out. + +He had suffered more during the past night than he had ever thought to +suffer again. He had fought a desperate fight, and it had cost him nearly +all his strength. He knew instinctively that he must make the most of +what was left. Afterwards--afterwards--when the ordeal was over, he would +sink down and rest, it mattered not where. If he lived long enough, he +would keep his promise to Max Wyndham. If not,--well, he would not be +needing human help. The gods had nearly done with him, and he was too +weary to care. If he could only be faithful a little longer--a little +longer! Nothing would matter afterwards, and the pain would be over then. + +"Bertie, I am here!" + +He started, and for a moment that which he had been fighting down all +night showed in his eyes. He thrust it away out of sight. He answered her +with his usual courteous confidence. + +"Ah! You are there, Christine! You will pardon me for keeping you +waiting. I came as soon as your message reached me." + +He lifted one of the great yew-branches and stepped beneath as if +entering a tent. It fell behind him, and in the green gloom they were +face to face. + +"Were you going without saying good-bye?" said Chris. + +She stood before him, very pale and quiet. Her eyes did not meet his +quite fully. + +He spread out his hands. "I knew not if you would wish to see me." + +"Don't you know me better than that?" she said. He did not answer her. +Evidently she did not expect an answer, for she went on almost at once. +"Bertie, why did you let Trevor think you had robbed him?" + +He made a sharp gesture of protest, but remained silent. + +She laid her hand on his arm. "Come and sit down, Bertie! And please +answer me, because I want to know." + +He went with her to the rustic seat against the tree-trunk. He was +gripping his self-control with all his strength. + +"Mr. Mordaunt must think what he will," he said at length, with an +effort. "He can never judge me too severely." + +"Why do you say that?" Chris asked the question quickly, nervously, as if +she had to ask it, yet dreaded the answer. + +"I think you know, Christine," he answered, his voice very low. + +She shrank a little. "But that money, Bertie? You knew nothing of that?" + +He was silent for a moment; then, "We will not speak of that," he said +firmly. "I could not stay here in any case, so--it makes no difference." + +"No difference that he should think you a thief!" exclaimed Chris. + +He turned his eyes downwards, staring heavily at the ground between his +feet. "I ask myself," he said, "if I am any better than a thief." + +"Bertie!" There was quick distress in her voice this time. "But you have +done nothing wrong," she declared vehemently, "nothing whatever!" + +He shook his head in silence, not looking at her. + +"And you are ill," she went on, passing the matter by as if not trusting +herself. "What will you do? Where will you go?" + +He sat up slowly and faced her. "I go to London," he said, "and I must +start now. Do not be anxious for me, Christine. I have money enough. Mr. +Mordaunt offered me more this morning. But I had no need of it, and I +refused." + +He spoke quite steadily. He was braced for the ordeal. He would be strong +until the need for strength was past. + +But with Chris it was otherwise. For her there was no prospect of +relaxation. She was but at the beginning of her trial, and her whole soul +shrank from the contemplation of what lay before her. The dear dreams of +her childhood had flickered out like pictures on a screen. And she had +awakened to find herself in a prison-house from which all her life long +she could never hope to escape. Did some memory of the arms that had +enfolded her so often and so tenderly come to her as she realized it? If +so, it was only to stab her afresh with the bitter irony of Fate that had +lavished upon her the love of a man who had filled her life with all that +woman's heart could desire, and yet had failed to give her happiness. + +And so, when Bertrand spoke of going, the newly awakened heart of her +rose up in sudden, hot revolt. His departure was inevitable, and she knew +it, but her endurance was not equal to the strain. She had deemed herself +stronger than she was. + +She threw out her hands with a passionate gesture. "Bertie! What shall I +do without you? I can't go on by myself. I can't--I can't!" + +It was like the cry of a child, but in it there throbbed all the deep +longing of her womanhood. Ah! why had her eyes been opened? Surely she +had been happier blind! + +He took the outflung hands and held them. He looked into her eyes. "But, +_chérie_," he said, "you have your husband." + +"I know--I know!" Piteously the words came from her. "He is very good to +me. But, Bertie, he--has never been--first. I know it now. I didn't know +before, or I wouldn't have married him. I swear I would never have +married him--if I had known!" + +"_Chérie_, hush!" Almost sternly he checked her, though his eyes +were unfailingly kind. "You must not say it, Christine. Words always +make a bad thing worse. Think instead how great is his love for you. +Remember--oh, remember that you are his wife! The sin was mine that you +could ever forget it. But you have not forgotten it, _mignonne!_ Tell me +that you have not! Tell me that when you think of me it will be as a +friend who gives you no regrets, the friend of your childhood, little +Christine--the comrade with whom you played in the sunshine; no more +than that--no more than that!" + +Very earnestly he besought her, holding her hands lightly clasped between +his own, ready at her slightest movement to let them go. But she made no +effort to withdraw them. She only bent her head and wept as though her +heart were breaking. + +"_Chérie, chérie_!" he said, and that was all; for he had no words +wherewith to comfort her. He had wrought the mischief, but the remedy did +not lie with him. + +His own lips quivered above her bowed head; he bit them desperately. + +After a little she commanded herself sufficiently to speak through her +tears. "Bertie, you once said--that there was no goodness without Love. +Then why--why is Love--wrong?" + +"Love is not wrong, _chérie_." Instant and reassuring came his answer. +"Let us be true to Love, and we are true to God. For Love is God, and in +every heart He is to be found; sometimes in much, sometimes in very, very +little, but He is always there." + +"I don't understand," said Chris. "If that were so--why mustn't we love +each other? Why is it wrong?" + +"It is not wrong." Again with absolute assurance Bertrand spoke. "So long +as it is pure, it is also holy. There is no sin in Love. We shall love +each other always, dear, always. With me it will be more--and ever more. +Though I shall not be with you, though I shall not see your face or touch +your hand, you will know that I am loving you still. It will be as an +Altar Flame that burns for ever. But I will be faithful. My love shall +never hurt you again. That is where I sinned. I was selfish enough to +show you the earthly part of my love--the part that dies, just as our +bodies die, setting our spirits free. For see, _chérie_, it is not the +material part that endures. All things material must pass, but the +spiritual lives on for ever. That is why Love is immortal. That is why +Love can never die." + +She listened to him in silence, scarcely comprehending at the moment +words that later were to become the only light to guide her stumbling +feet. + +"Would you say that you love the dead no more because you see them not?" +he questioned gently. "The sight--the touch--what is it? Only the earthly +medium of Love; Love Itself is a higher thing, capable of the last +sacrifice, greater than evil, stronger than death. Oh, believe me, +Christine, Death is a very small thing compared with Love. If our love +were of the spirit only, Death would be less than nothing; for it is only +the body that can ever die." + +"But why can't we be happy before we die?" whispered Chris. "Other people +are." + +He shook his head. "I doubt it, _chérie_. With death in the world there +can be no perfection. All passes--all passes--except only the Love that +is our Life." + +He paused a moment, seeming to hesitate upon the verge of telling her +something more; but in that instant she raised her head and he refrained. + +"Ah, Christine," he said sadly, "I never thought that I should make you +weep like this." + +"Oh, it's not your fault, Bertie." She smiled at him, with quivering +lips. "It's just life. But--dearest--I want you to know all the +same--that I'm glad--I'm glad I love you so. And--whether it's right or +wrong, I can't help it--I shall always love you--best of all." + +His eyes shone at the words. A passionate answer sprang to his lips, but +he stopped it unuttered. "We are not responsible for that which we cannot +help," he said instead. "Only--my darling"--for the first time the +English word of endearment passed his lips, spoken almost under his +breath--"never permit the thought of me to come between you and your +husband. Be faithful, Christine--be faithful!" + +She made no answer of any sort; but her eyes were hopeless. + +He waited a while, still holding her hands while tenderly he watched her. +At last, "I must go, _chérie_," he whispered. + +Her face quivered. Suddenly and impetuously as of old she spoke. "Bertie, +once--long ago--you meant to marry me, didn't you?" + +His own face contracted. "Do not let us torture ourselves in vain," he +urged her gently. + +"But it is true!" she persisted. + +He hesitated an instant. "Yes, it is true," he said. + +She leaned her head back, looking him straight in the eyes. There was a +light in hers that he had never seen before. They gleamed like stars, +seeing him only. "Bertie," she said, and her voice thrilled upon the +words, "I was yours then, and I am yours now. I have always belonged +to you, and you to me. Bertie, I--am coming with you." + +His violent start testified to the utter unexpectedness of her +announcement. Such a possibility had not, it was obvious, suggested +itself to him. He turned white to the lips. + +"Christine!" he stammered incredulously. + +Feverishly she broke in upon his astonishment. "Oh, don't be shocked! It +is absolutely the only way. I cannot stay here without you. Trevor will +keep us apart. He will not let me even write to you. He says that our +friendship must cease. And it cannot--it cannot! Bertie, don't you see? +Don't you understand? Don't you--want me?" + +A note of despair rang in her voice. Her hands suddenly gripped each +other in agonized misgiving. But on the instant his gripped closer, +holding them crushed against his breast in fierce reassurance. His eyes +shone full into hers, and for one moment of fiery rapture which both were +to remember all their lives their souls mingled, became fused in one, +forgetful of all beside. + +Out of the silence the man's voice came, low and passionate. "_Le +bon Dieu_ knows how I want you, my bird of Paradise! But yet--but +yet--" Something seemed to choke his utterance. He gave a sudden gasp, +and bowed his head forward upon her shoulder. + +Her arms were round him in an instant. "What is it, dearest? You are +ill!" + +"No," he said. "No." But still he gasped for breath, and she fancied that +he repressed a shudder. + +He raised his head after a moment. "Pardon me, _chérie_. I am only--weak. +Christine, all my life--all my life--I shall remember--how you were +ready--to give up all--all--for me. But, _mignonne_, I cannot take +such a sacrifice. I dare not. Go back to your husband, _chérie_. It is +your duty. You are his, not mine. We will not stain our love thus. +Christine"--his voice broke--"_ma mignonne_, I love you too well--too +well--to do this thing. You shall not be ruined--for my sake." + +"Oh, but, Bertie!" she pleaded. She was clinging to him now; her +eyes implored him. "Think of me here without you! Never to see you +again--never to have a single word from you any more! Bertie, I can't +bear it--I can't bear it! It will be no sacrifice to me to come with +you. I don't mind hardship. I'm used to poverty, But here--but here--" + +Her voice broke also, she could say no more. His arms went round her, +straining her to him. His face was close to hers. But his eyes were the +eyes of a man in torture. + +"I know--I know all," he whispered. "Yet--my darling--you must stay--and +I must go. When Love demands a sacrifice--" + +"I will sacrifice anything--everything--all I have!" she cried out +wildly. + +"We must sacrifice each other," he said. "That is the test of our love, +_chérie_. That is the sacrifice that Love demands." + +He spoke quite quietly, with the calmness of one who knew and faced the +worst. The torture in his eyes had turned to dumb endurance. "Only thus," +he said--"only thus can we be true to our love. We sacrifice the little +for the much. _Mignonne_, believe me, it is worth it. You are mine, and I +am yours. So be it, then. Let us be--faithful." + +He spoke with the utmost tenderness; yet was she awed. Her sudden +rebellion died. It was as though a quiet hand had been laid upon her +heart, stilling her pain. For one moment she looked with him across the +long, dark furrows of mortal life into the great Beyond, and knew that he +had spoken the truth. Their love was worth the sacrifice. + +"Oh, Bertie," she said, in a whisper, "you are right, dear, you are +right." + +His eyes flashed swift understanding into hers; yet for a moment his arms +tightened about her, as if her submission made it harder for him to let +her go. + +She waited till they relaxed, and then she laid her hands upon his +shoulders. "Bertie," she said very earnestly, "forget I ever asked it of +you!" + +He shook his head instantly, with a sudden, transforming smile that +revealed in him the young, quick spirit that had caught hers so long ago. +"Oh no--no!" he said. "It will be to me the most precious memory of my +life. By it I shall always remember--the so great generosity--of +your love." + +The smile went out of his face. He leaned nearer to her. She read +irresolution in his eyes, and a quiver that was half of hope and half of +apprehension went through her. Was he going to fail, after all, in the +moment of victory? If so--if so-- + +But he restrained himself. She saw him fight down the impulse that urged +him inch by inch until he had it in subjection. Under her watching eyes +he conquered. He showed her the Omnipotence of Love. + +Quietly, with no exaggeration of reverence, he knelt before her. He took +her hands into his own, turned them upwards, pressed his lips to each +palm, let them go. + +The silence between them was like a sacrament. She never knew how long it +lasted. It was a farewell more final than any words. + +At last, "God keep you, my Christine!" he said. "God bless you!" + +He rose to his feet, but he did not look at her again. + +She could not speak in answer; there was no need of speech. He knew her +heart as he knew his own. + +And so in silence, with bent head, he left her. And the sun went out of +her sky. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WAY OF THE WYNDHAMS + + +When Mordaunt returned from his ride, it was close upon the +luncheon-hour. He went straight upstairs to prepare for the meal. + +Chris's room was empty. He wondered where she was, but Noel bounded in +and enlightened him before he descended. + +"She's doing the pretty to Aunt Philippa," he reported. "Only three more +hours now! Hip, hip, hooray!" + +His yell caused Mordaunt to fling the towel he was using at his head, a +compliment which seemed to please him immensely. He draped it round his +neck and proceeded to deliver himself of that which he had come to say. + +"Look here, Trevor, you've been bullying Chris, haven't you? You needn't +say you haven't, because I know you have." + +"Did she tell you so?" Mordaunt sounded grim. + +Noel turned to look at him. "No. She said you hadn't. But she always +tells a cram when it suits her purpose. I knew you had all the same." + +Mordaunt was silent. + +"She's horribly down in the mouth," Noel proceeded. "She never used to be +before she married you. It's a pretty beastly thing to have to say, but +someone ought to say it, and if I don't no one else will." + +"Go on," said Mordaunt. "Your sense of duty does you credit." + +"Don't be a beast! It isn't duty at all. I'm simply pointing out the +obvious. I should think you could see it for yourself, can't you?" + +Mordaunt brushed his hair in silence. + +"It's got to stop anyhow," Noel went on with determination. "She's not to +be bullied. It's worse than shabby,--it--it's damned mean to--to treat +her as if--as if--" He became suddenly agitated and lost the thread of +his discourse. + +Mordaunt had laid down his brushes to listen. His eyes were gravely +attentive. They held no indignation. "Go on," he said again. "You are +quite right to use strong language if you consider the occasion requires +it." + +But Noel's flow of language had failed him. He sprang suddenly at his +brother-in-law, and caught him by the shoulders. "Oh, do stop it, old +chap!" he urged, with husky vehemence. "We all of us rely on you. And if +you fail us--can't you see we're done for?" + +Mordaunt looked down at him with a faint smile. "Perhaps I had better +tell you what has happened," he said. "The trouble at the present moment +is that Bertrand has robbed me, and has left in consequence." + +"Great Scotland!" ejaculated Noel. "How much did he take?" + +"Five hundred pounds. That's a detail of small consequence." Mordaunt +spoke with grim precision. "It has upset Chris--quite naturally. But even +you can hardly hold me responsible for that." + +"I should think not! I say, I'm sorry I spoke." Impetuously Noel hugged +him to obliterate the effect of his words. "I'm a silly ass. You mustn't +mind me. Do you know, I always thought he would somehow, though Chris was +so keen on him." + +"I was keen on him too," Mordaunt observed, without much humour. + +"I'm awfully sorry, old chap. It's a bit of a facer for you. But, you +know, you can't trust foreigners. It doesn't do. There was that chap at +Valpré. He simply bewitched Chris. She never would hear a word against +him, but I'm sure he was a bounder. I've often thought since that he +probably manoeuvred that cave business. They're such a wily lot, these +Frenchies." + +"What cave business?" There was a hint of sharpness in Mordaunt's voice; +his brows were drawn. + +Noel looked surprised. "Why, the time they got hung up by the tide all +night. Mean to say you never heard of it? Oh, my eye!" he broke off +blankly. "Then I've let the cat out of the bag!" + +"Don't distress yourself. It is of no importance." Mordaunt's tone was +suddenly very deliberate. He turned away and began to put on his coat. +"Are you ready for luncheon? I'm going down now." + +Noel surveyed him doubtfully. "You won't let on I told you, will you?" he +said uneasily. "Chris may have asked me to keep it dark." + +"I don't suppose she did." Very quietly Mordaunt made reply. "She has +more probably forgotten all about it. But I won't give you away in any +case. You are ready? Then suppose we go!" + +They descended together to find Aunt Philippa and Chris awaiting them in +the hall. Chris scarcely looked at her husband. She was very pale. + +He followed her to her end of the table to pour her out a glass of wine. + +"Please don't!" she said nervously. "I don't like it. I can't drink it." + +"I think you can," he answered. "Try!" + +He went to his own place, and proceeded to engage Aunt Philippa in +conversation. But Aunt Philippa was looking even more severe than usual, +and responded so indifferently to his efforts that he presently suffered +them to flag. There fell a dead silence. Then Noel struck in with furious +zest, and Mordaunt turned to him with relief. But Chris scarcely opened +her lips. + +At the end of the meal he addressed her with quiet authority. "Chris, you +must rest this afternoon. Your aunt will excuse you." + +"Certainly," said Aunt Philippa stiffly. + +Chris rose from the table in unbroken silence. She came slowly down the +long room. Mordaunt got up to open the door, and followed her out. + +"Don't worry about me, please!" Chris besought him as he closed the door +behind them. "I shall be all right to-morrow." + +He ignored the protest, and accompanied her upstairs. She glanced at him +uneasily as they went. "I can't help being--unhappy just for to-day," she +murmured. "You--you couldn't expect me--not to care?" + +He did not speak till they reached her room. Then: "You saw Bertrand," he +said, in a tone that was hardly a question. + +"Yes." She began to tremble a little. "I am sorry," she said. "But--I had +to." She stood before him, not meeting his eyes, waiting for him to +speak. "I couldn't let him go--for good--without saying good-bye," she +said, as he remained silent. + +He took her gently by the shoulders. "Chris, look at me!" + +She drew back, yet in a moment with a desperate effort she raised her +eyes to his. He laid his hand upon her forehead, and looked at her long +and searchingly. + +She endured the look in quivering silence, but she turned so deathly pale +under it that he thought she would faint. Quietly he let her go. + +"You will lie down now?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered, under her breath. + +"Don't be in a hurry to get up," he said. "I will explain to your aunt +that I do not wish you to be disturbed, and I shall see her off myself." + +He went to the windows and drew the curtains. She watched him silently. +As he turned back into the room, she spoke. + +"Trevor, are you angry with me?" + +He paused, as if the question were unexpected. "No," he said, after a +moment. + +Her eyes shone unnaturally bright in the twilight. "You understand +that--that I couldn't obey your wishes about not seeing--Bertrand--before +he left?" + +"I did not forbid you to see him," he said. + +"But--you are vexed because I did," she persisted. + +He came quietly back to her. "I believe you did the only thing possible +to you," he said, in a tone she could not fathom. "Therefore there is no +more to be said. Won't you lie down?" + +She complied without further words. He covered her with a rug, but she +shivered under it as one with an ague. He brought a quilt, and laid that +also over her. + +She reached out then, and caught his hand. "Trevor, forgive me!" + +He bent over her. "My dear, I am not angry with you." + +"Ah, but--but--" She broke off helplessly; there was something about him +that unnerved her. Suddenly and inexplicably the longing surged over her +to be caught to his breast and held there safe from all the tumult, the +misery, the vain regrets, that tortured her quivering soul. But she could +not tell him so, could not bring herself to pour out all the truth. For +the first time she saw how wide was the gulf that had opened between +them--that gulf which he had tried in vain to span the night before--and +her heart died within her. She knew that she was powerless, that now in +the hour of her adversity, now when she felt her need of a protector and +comforter as never before, she dared not confide in him, dared not throw +herself upon his mercy, and trust to his generosity to understand and to +forgive. + +And so she could only hold his hand very tightly, too agitated to utter +any plea, afraid to keep him, yet even more afraid to let him go, lest, +apart from her, that dread gulf should widen into an abyss too terrible +for contemplation. + +He waited for a little beside her, to give her agitation time to subside. +But it only increased till it became so painfully obvious that he could +ignore it no longer. + +"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked her gently. "I am +quite ready to listen to you. Only don't be so distressed. Really there +is no need." + +His tone was perfectly kind, but the caressing note she was wont to hear +in it was absent. She shivered afresh, conscious of a chill. She could +not answer him; her throat seemed incapable of producing sound. + +A while longer, with absolute patience, he waited. Then; "I think you +must let me go, dear," he said. "I am doing you more harm than good just +now. By and bye, when you are calmer, we will have a talk." + +And so by his very forbearance he committed the greatest mistake of his +life. If he had stayed then, she might have been persuaded to tell him +all that was in her heart. But--the bitter irony of it!--though she was +possessed by a passionate longing to do so, in face of his quiet +restraint she could not. In fear of the physical effect upon her, he held +her back. And she was powerless to pass the barrier. Without his +supporting tenderness, she could not lay bare to him the misery and the +pain which in no other way could be relieved. + +She loosened her hold upon his hand, and as he gently withdrew it she +felt as if her last chance of peace were taken away. She turned her face +into the pillow and lay still, and a moment later the soft closing of the +door told her he had gone. + +She listened to his quiet tread along the passage, and an overwhelming +sense of desolation swept over her. He had left her alone to cope with +her trouble, and the burden of it was greater than she could bear. + +She did not know that he returned a little later and listened for many +seconds at the door, fearing that she might be spending her solitude in +tears. She never heard him there, or even then her tragedy might have +been lifted from her. She was lying quite still, with clenched hands, +staring dry-eyed into space; for she had no tears to shed. + +And he, deeming her sleeping, went softly away again, to sit on the +terrace and await Aunt Philippa, who had retired to make her final +preparations. + +A long time passed before she made her appearance, and he was beginning +to wonder with some uneasiness if she had decided to postpone her +departure after all, when at length she joined him, ready dressed for the +journey. She sat down beside him, looking very handsome and dignified. + +"I am glad of this opportunity of seeing you alone, my dear Trevor," she +began, "as, after long deliberation, I have at last decided to take you +into my confidence upon a matter that has been greatly troubling me." + +Mordaunt laid aside the proof of an article with which he had been +occupying himself, and replied with his customary courtesy, "I am always +glad if I can be of use to you." + +"Thank you," said Aunt Philippa. + +She carried a bag upon her wrist, and she proceeded to open and search +within it. Finally she extracted, a piece of folded notepaper, and handed +it to him. + +"Will you read that first?" she said. "It will make a difficult task +easier." + +Mordaunt took the paper, saw that it was a letter, and proceeded to read +it under her watching eyes. + +There followed a long, quiet pause before he said, "I presume that this +is not addressed to you." + +"There," said Aunt Philippa, "you are quite correct." + +"Then--" He folded it sharply, and made as if he would hand it back to +her, but altered his purpose and closed his fingers upon it instead. +"Will you explain?" he said. + +Aunt Philippa proceeded to do so in her most judicial manner. "That +letter I found on the terrace yesterday morning and, believing it to be +one of my own that had blown out of my window, I picked it up and later +placed it in my letter-case. In the evening I took it out with the +intention of answering my correspondent, but upon perusing it, I +discovered it to be the communication which you hold in your hand. As you +perceive, it was written from Sandacre Court about a week ago, and I now +realize that it is not the first letter which the writer has sent to this +house. You may remember a discussion arising one morning on the subject +of a letter from Sandacre Court. That letter, I am now convinced, was +written by the same hand, and these facts point to the very unpleasant +conclusion that the man who wrote them--Guillaume Rodolphe--has been +levying blackmail. He is apparently aware of a most unfortunate episode +which occurred at Valpré in Chris's early girlhood--" + +Mordaunt held up his hand abruptly; his face was set in iron lines. "I +have already heard of the episode to which you refer," he said. + +"Indeed!" said Aunt Philippa. "And may I ask how long you have been aware +of it?" + +He hesitated momentarily. "Is that material?" + +"I think it is," she rejoined. "If Chris has brought herself even at the +eleventh hour to be open with you, none will rejoice more sincerely than +I. It has always been my principle that wives should have no secrets from +their husbands. But, knowing her as I do, I question very much if this +can be the case. I have remonstrated with her myself upon the subject, +but she refused so stubbornly to listen to me that I cannot but feel that +the time has come for me to take my own measures. I should not be doing +my duty otherwise. Painful as it is to me, I feel it incumbent upon me to +tell you the truth. Now, my dear Trevor, are you aware that there has +to-day been a scene between your wife and your secretary which I can only +describe as--a love passage? Has she confessed this to you? Because, if +not, you must no longer remain in ignorance of the true state of affairs. +Chris has deceived me throughout in the most flagrant manner. Had I +known--as I now know--that the man who caused the Valpré scandal and your +secretary, Bertrand de Montville, a criminal exile living upon your +charity, were one and the same person, I would never have permitted you +to marry my niece and expose her afresh to a temptation which she had +already shown herself unable to resist." + +Her last words were somewhat hurried, for Mordaunt had risen to his feet, +and there was that in his eyes that warned her that if she paused for a +single instant they would never be uttered at all. And Aunt Philippa +never liked to leave a task unfinished. That which she undertook she +invariably carried through undeviatingly, whatever the cost, and +notwithstanding any adverse circumstances which might arise during its +accomplishment. + +She finished her sentence therefore, and then resigned herself to the +martyrdom of being grossly misunderstood. + +For that he utterly misread her motives was apparent from his very +expression, even before he said with extreme deliberation: "Mrs. Forest, +you will oblige me very greatly by not pursuing this subject any further. +As I said to you before, Chris is in my keeping now, and it will be my +first care to see that no harm comes to her. As to my secretary, he has +left me for good, and I doubt if I ever see him again." + +"I see," said Aunt Philippa. "You have quarrelled with him then?" + +"I have." Sternly he made reply. He still held the note she had given him +crumpled in his hand. + +Aunt Philippa stiffened her neck severely. "And you left them alone to +say good-bye! My dear Trevor, are you mad, or only criminally indifferent +to your own interests?" + +"I am neither," he said. + +"And do you know what happened?" + +"I do not wish to know." + +She contemplated him for a moment in silence, then: "Your own servant has +more common sense," she said. + +"Do you mean Holmes?" He spoke with absolute composure, not as one +vitally interested; but his eyes made her nervous, they were so still and +intent. + +"I do mean Holmes," she said. "He came to me in the course of the morning +and informed me that his mistress was under the yew-tree and wanted me. I +thought his message unusual at the time. When I went out to the yew-tree +about ten minutes later, I understood the meaning of it. They were +together there, in each other's arms. I did not interrupt them, for I +felt it my duty to ascertain, if possible, how far the mischief had gone. +But I was not successful. The interview came to an end almost at once. He +knelt down upon the ground and kissed her hands, after which he got up +and went away. I did not hear what he said to her, but it was certainly +no word of farewell. Personally I am convinced that his leave-taking was +not final. As for Chris herself, she seemed dazed, and I left her to +recover." + +Aunt Philippa paused. He had not interrupted her, but she did not feel +his silence to be reassuring. She found it impossible to meet his look +any longer, though she made a valiant effort to do so. + +"I hope you will believe," she said, after a moment, "that nothing but a +most urgent sense of duty has impelled me to tell you this." + +He did not answer, and she began to flounder a little, finding his +silence hard to fathom. + +"I felt that you ought to be upon your guard. As I have told you before, +not one of the Wyndhams is to be trusted. I think you have been too +generous in this respect, and have laid yourself open to deception. +However--now that I have warned you once more, you will perhaps be more +careful in the future. I can only hope that my warning has come in time." + +Again she paused, but still he remained silent, looking straight at her +with a steely regard that never altered. + +She mustered her forces at length to ask a direct question. "What do you +propose to do with regard to that letter you hold in your hand?" + +With a quiet movement he transferred it to his pocket. "I have not had +time to consider the matter," he said. + +She was momentarily surprised, and showed it. "I thought you would know +what to do at once," she said. "It was, in fact, my reason for telling +you of it. I felt that something ought to be done--and quickly." + +"Something will be done," Mordaunt answered quietly. "You have placed the +matter in my hands, and I shall deal with it. I think I need not ask you +to refrain from mentioning it to anyone else?" + +"You need not," said Aunt Philippa with dignity. + +"Thank you. And that is all you wish to say to me?" + +She met his steady eyes for an instant and at once looked away again. +"All," she replied, "except that I think it was a great pity that you +refused so persistently to profit by my former warning. It might have +averted much trouble both for yourself and for Chris." + +He made her a slight bow. "I fear I am not unique," he said, "in +preferring to conduct my own affairs in my own way." + +When Aunt Philippa took her departure that afternoon it was in a most +unwonted state of doubt, not unmingled with apprehension. Despite his +moderation, she had an uneasy feeling that her communication to Trevor +Mordaunt had set in motion a devastating force which nothing could arrest +or divert until it had spread destruction over all that lay in its path. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE TRUTH + + +In answer to her husband's low knock, Chris turned from her +dressing-table. She had switched on the electric light, and had taken +down her hair, preparatory to dressing for dinner. It hung all about her +in magnificent ripples of ruddy light and shade. Her face, in the midst +of it, looked very small and tired. She was clad in a plain white +wrapper, that fell away from her neck and arms, giving her a very +childish appearance. + +"Yes, I'm getting up," she said, with the flicker of a smile. "I couldn't +sleep." + +He entered and closed the door behind him in silence. + +"Has Aunt Philippa gone?" she asked. + +He responded briefly, "Three hours ago." + +"Ah!" She stretched out her arms with the gesture of one freed from an +irksome burden, but they fell again immediately, almost as if a fresh +burden had taken its place. + +She stood for a few seconds motionless, looking straight before her. +Finally, with a hint of nervousness, she turned her eyes upon her +husband; they shone intensely blue in the strong light. + +"We shall soon be quite alone," she said. + +His eyes did not answer hers. They looked remote and cold. "Come and sit +down," he said. + +He seated himself on the couch from which she had just risen. Chris +caught up a slide from the dressing-table, and fastened back her hair +with fingers that trembled inexplicably. + +Then she went to him. "Trevor," she said, and there was pleading in her +voice, "do you know, I don't want to talk about anything. I think one +gets over some troubles best that way. Do you mind?" + +He took her wrists very quietly, and drew her down beside him. "What were +you trying to tell me this afternoon?" he said. + +She shivered and turned her face away. "Nothing, really nothing. I was +foolish and upset. Please let me forget it." + +She would have withdrawn from his hold, but his hands tightened upon her. +"Won't you reconsider the matter?" he asked. "It would be better for us +both if you told me of your own accord." + +"Trevor!" She turned to him swiftly, flashing into his face a look of +such wild alarm that he was touched, in spite of himself. + +"My dear," he said, "I have no wish to frighten you. But you must see for +yourself that it is utterly impossible for us to go on like this. You are +keeping something from me. I want you to tell me quite quietly and +without prevarication what it is." + +She turned white to the lips. "There is nothing, Trevor. Indeed, there is +nothing," she said. + +His face changed, grew stern, grew implacable. He bent towards her, still +holding her firmly by the wrists. He looked closely into her eyes, and in +his own was neither accusation nor condemnation, only a deep and awful +questioning that seemed to probe her through and through. + +"For Heaven's sake," he said, "don't lie to me!" + +And Chris shrank, shrank from that dread scrutiny as she would have +shrunk from naked steel. She did not attempt to speak another word. + +For seconds that seemed to her agonized senses like hours, he held her +so, waiting, waiting for she knew not what. Her heart thumped within her +like the heart of a terrified creature fleeing for its life. She began to +pant audibly through the silence. The strain was more than she could +bear. + +"Chris!" he said. + +She started violently; every pulse leaped, every nerve jarred. But she +did not lift her eyes to his; she could not. + +"Don't tremble," he said, his voice very cold and even. "Just tell me the +truth. Begin with what happened at Valpré." + +Her white lips quivered. "What--how much--do you know?" + +"I will tell you that," he said, "when you have answered me quite fully +and unreservedly." + +She cast an imploring look at him that did not reach his eyes. "But, +Trevor, nothing happened," she told him piteously. "That is to say, +nothing beyond--" She broke off short. "I was only a child. I didn't +know," she ended, in a confused murmur. + +"What didn't you know?" Stern and pitiless came the question. His hands +were holding her wrists tightly locked. There was compulsion in their +grasp. + +She answered him because she could not help it, but her words were +wild and incoherent. "I didn't know what it meant. I didn't see the harm +of it. I was too young. It all happened before I realized. And even +then--even then--I didn't understand--that it was serious--until--until-- +the duel. Trevor--Trevor, you are hurting me!" + +His hold relaxed, but he did not set her free. "Was that duel fought on +your account?" he asked. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"In what way?" + +She was silent. + +"Answer me," he said. + +She clenched her hands in sudden, strenuous rebellion. "I don't know. I +never heard." + +"Was it because you had compromised yourself with Bertrand de Montville?" + +Very deliberately he asked the question, so deliberately that she could +not evade it. + +"It is not fair to--to put it like that," she said. + +"I am waiting to hear your own version," he told her grimly. + +"You have only heard Aunt Philippa's, so far?" she hazarded. + +"I have heard nothing whatever about what happened at Valpré from your +aunt," he answered. "But that is beside the point. Are you quite +incapable of telling me the truth?" + +She winced sharply. "Trevor! Why are you so cruel? I have done nothing +wrong." + +"Then look at me!" he said. + +But she would not, for his eyes terrified her. Nor could she bring +herself to speak of Valpré under their piercing scrutiny. Only +close-locked in his arms could she have poured out the poor little secret +that she had sacrificed so much to keep. Not the nature of the adventure +itself, but the fact that she had given her love to the man who had +shared it with her, held her silent. She could not spread her love before +those pitiless eyes, and to disclose the one without the other had become +impossible to her. + +And so she remained silent, counting the seconds as she felt his +forbearance ebb away. + +When at last he moved and released her, she cowered almost as if she +expected a blow. Yet when he spoke, though there was in his tone a subtle +difference, his words came with absolute composure. She could almost have +imagined that he was smiling. + +"Since you refuse to be open with me," he said, "you compel me to draw my +own conclusions. Now, with regard to this letter which you received a +week ago from Captain Rodolphe--you have another letter from him +somewhere in your possession?" + +He took the missive from his pocket and opened it as if he would read it +again. But the sight was too much for Chris. It tortured her beyond +endurance, galvanizing her into sudden, unconsidered action. She snatched +it from him and tore it passionately into fragments. + +"You shall not!" she cried. "You shall not!" + +With the words she sprang to her feet, and stood before him, goaded to +frenzy, challenging his calm. + +"Where did you find it?" she demanded. + +"It was found on the terrace," he said. + +She flung out a trembling hand. "Ah! Then I dropped it that night that my +dress caught fire. I thought it was burnt. And you found it--you dared to +read it!" + +He did not attempt to explain his action. Perhaps he realized he +was more likely to obtain the truth from her thus than by endless +cross-questioning. "Yes, I have read it," he said. + +She made a desperate gesture. "And because of this--because of +this--you--you accuse me of--" + +"I have accused you of nothing," he said sternly. "I have only asked you +to tell me the truth. I hoped you would do so of your own free will, but +since you will not--" + +"Yes?" she cried back. "Since I will not--?" + +"I shall find another means," he answered. + +He rose abruptly. They stood face to face. There was no shrinking about +Chris now. She was braced to defiance. + +"Where is that other letter?" he said. + +"I have destroyed it." + +She uttered the words with quivering triumph, strung to a fever-pitch of +excitement in which fear had no part. + +His eyes went to her jewel-drawer. + +"It is not there," she said. "The letter I hid there was the one you have +just read." + +She spoke rapidly, but she was no longer incoherent. Her words came +without effort, and he knew that she was telling the truth as the victim +in a torture-chamber might tell it, because she was goaded thereto and +incapable at the moment of doing otherwise. He also knew that, +notwithstanding this, she was scarcely aware of what she said. Out of the +agony of her soul, because the pain was unbearable, she had yielded +without knowing it. + +"I only kept this letter," she said, "in case he ever asked for more. But +it doesn't matter now--nothing will ever matter any more. You know the +worst, and"--fiercely--"you are welcome to know it. I--I'm even glad! +I've nothing left to be afraid of." + +She drew in her breath hysterically. She was on the verge of dreadful +laughter, but she caught it back, instinctively aware that she must keep +her strength--this unwonted strength of desperation that had come +to her--as long as possible. + +He heard her without emotion. His face was grim and mask-like, frozen +into hard, unyielding lines. + +"It is certainly best that I should know it," he said. "But I have not +yet heard all. How much did this Rodolphe charge for his silence?" + +She had almost answered him before she remembered, and checked the words +upon her lips. "No, I don't think I need tell you that," she said. + +"That is better than telling me a lie," he rejoined. "As a matter of +fact, there is no need, as you say, for you to tell me. I know what sum +he asked for, and I know how he obtained it." + +He spoke with steady conviction, his eyes unwaveringly upon her. For +seconds now she had endured his look without flinching. As she had said, +there was nothing left for her to fear. But at his words her face +changed, and unmistakable apprehension took the place of despair. + +"No, no!" she said quickly. "He did not obtain it in that way. At +least--at least--Trevor, I swear to you that Bertrand knew nothing of +that." + +"You need not take that trouble," he said coldly. + +She gripped her hands together. "You don't believe me--but it is the +truth. Bertrand never knew that I had heard from Captain Rodolphe." + +"You deceived him too, then?" Pitilessly he asked the question. He also +had begun to feel that nothing could ever matter any more. + +She wrung her hands in anguish. Her face was still raised to his, white +and strained and desperate--the face of a woman who would never dissemble +with him again. "Yes," she said, "I deceived him too." + +"Then"--slowly he uttered the words--"it was you who forged my name upon +that cheque? It actually was you whom he was shielding? And you tell me +that he did not know what it was for?" + +"He did not know," she said. She would not have given such an explanation +of her own volition at that moment, but--since upon this point she could +not tell him the truth--it was simpler to let it pass. What did it +matter, after all? Let him think her a thief also if he would! She was +past caring what he thought. + +"And when do you expect to meet again?" Mordaunt asked, with great +distinctness. + +She flinched as if he had struck her. "Oh, haven't you tortured me +enough?" she said. + +His jaw hardened. He stepped suddenly to her and took her by the +shoulders. His eyes appalled her. It was as if a devil looked out of +them. She shrank away from him in sheer physical terror. + +"Oh, you needn't be afraid," he said. "I shan't hurt you. Why should I? +You are nothing to me. But--for the last time--let me hear you speak the +truth. You love this man?" + +The words, curt and cold, might have fallen from the lips of a stranger, +so impersonal were they, so utterly devoid of any emotion. + +Wide-eyed, she faced him, for she could not look away with his hands upon +her, compelling her. + +"You love this man?" he repeated, his speech still cold but incisive--a +sharp weapon probing for the truth. + +She caught her quivering nerves together, and valiantly answered him. "I +do!" she said. "I do!" And as she spoke, the power within her surged +upwards, defying constraint, dominating her with a mastery irresistible. +She suddenly stripped her heart bare of all reserve and showed him the +love that agonized there. "I have always loved him!" she said. "I shall +love him till I die!" + +It was a woman's confession, in which triumph and anguish were strangely +mingled. In a calmer moment she would never have made it, but that moment +was supreme, and she had no choice. Regardless of all consequences, she +told the burning truth. She would have told it with his hands upon her +throat. + +In the silence that followed the avowal she even waited for violence. But +she was unafraid. The greatness of the power that possessed her had +lifted her above all fear. She trod the heights where fear is not. And +all-unconsciously, in that moment she won a battle which she had deemed +irrevocably lost. + +Mordaunt's hands fell from her, setting her free. "In Heaven's name," he +said, "why didn't you go with him?" + +She did not understand his tone. It held neither anger nor contempt, and +so quiet was it that she could still have fancied it almost indifferent. +Yet, inexplicably, it cut her to the heart. + +"I'll tell you the truth!" she said, a little wildly. "I--I would have +gone with him. I offered--I begged--to go. But he--he sent me back." + +"Why?" Again that deadly quietness of utterance, as though, indeed, a +dead man spoke. + +Her throat began to work spasmodically, though she had no desire to weep. +She felt as if her heart were bleeding from a mortal wound. + +With an effort that nearly choked her, she made reply. + +"He said--it was--my duty." + +"Your duty!" He repeated the word deliberately. Though the devil had gone +out of his eyes, she could not meet them any longer. Not that she feared +to do so; but the pain at her heart was intolerable, and it was his look, +his voice, that made it so. + +Almost as if he divined this, he turned quietly from her. He walked to +the window and opened it wide, as if he felt suffocated. The wind was +moaning desolately through the trees. There was the scent of coming rain +in the air. + +He spoke with his back to her, without apparent effort. "I release you +from your duty," he said. "Go to him! Go to him--now!" + +She gazed at him, dumbfounded, not breathing. But he remained motionless, +his hands clenched, his face to the night. + +"Go to him!" he repeated. "I shall set you free--at once. Go--and tell +him so!" + +Then, as still she neither moved nor spoke, he slowly turned and looked +at her. + +From head to foot she felt his eyes comprehend her, and from head to +foot, under his look, she shuddered. She spoke no word; she was as one +paralysed. + +Very quietly he pulled the window to behind him, still with his eyes upon +her. In that moment he was complete master of himself. He stood aloof, +shrouded, as it were, in an icy calm. She had no clue to his thoughts. +She only knew that by some means, inexplicable and irresistible, he bound +her even as he set her free. + +"You understand me?" he said, his voice cold, level, pitilessly distinct. +"It is my last word upon the subject. You and I have done with each +other. Go!" + +It was literally his last word. As he uttered it, his eyes fell away from +her. He crossed the room with even, unhurried tread, opened the +intervening door that led into his own, passed through with no backward +glance, and shut it steadily behind him. + +As for Chris, she stood numbly gazing after him till only the panels of +the door met her look. And then, her strength leaving her, without sound +she sank downwards and lay crumpled, inanimate, broken, upon the floor. + + + + +PART IV + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE REFUGEE + + +Autumn on a Yorkshire moor. + +Hilda Davenant leaned back and looked from her sketch to the moor with +slight dissatisfaction in her calm eyes. + +"What's the matter with it?" said Lord Percy. + +He was lying in the faded heather beside her, sucking grass-stems with +bovine enjoyment. He surveyed the faint pucker on his wife's forehead +with lazy amusement. + +She looked down at him. "It isn't nearly good enough." + +He laughed comfortably. "Put it away! It'll do for my birthday. I shan't +look at it from an artist's point of view." + +She smiled a little. "Oh, any daub would do for you. You simply don't +know what art is." + +"Exactly," he rejoined tranquilly. "Any daub will do, provided your hand +lays on the colours. But nothing less than that would satisfy me. Come! +Isn't that a pretty speech? And you didn't angle for it either!" He +caught her hand and rubbed it against his cheek. "You are civilizing me +wonderfully," he declared. "I never knew how to make pretty speeches +before I met you." + +"Surely I never taught you that!" she protested. "I am never guilty of +empty compliments myself." + +"Nor I," smiled her husband. "I say what I think to you always. Now what +do you say to coming for a stretch? There's an hour left before I need +buzz down to the station and meet Jack. You will admit I have been very +good and patient all this time. Pack up your painting things, and I'll +trek back to the house with them." + +"No. We will go together," Hilda said. "Why not?" + +"I thought you would prefer to sit and admire the landscape," he said. + +She smiled and made no response. + +"A case in point!" laughed Lord Percy. "But here the compliment would not +have been empty since you obviously prefer my company to the solitude of +a Yorkshire moor." + +She looked at him with the smile still in her eyes, but she did not put +the compliment into words. Only, as she rose to leave the scene of her +labours, she slipped her hand within his arm. + +"I have been thinking a great deal of Chris lately," she said. "I wish +she would write to me again." + +"I thought your mother was there," said Lord Percy. + +"She has been. I believe she left them yesterday. But then, she does not +give me any detailed news of Chris. I have a feeling that I can't get rid +of that the child is unhappy." + +"She has no right to be," rejoined her husband. "She's married about the +best fellow going." + +"Who understands her about as thoroughly as you understand art." + +"Oh, come!" he remonstrated. "Mordaunt is not quite such a fool as that! +The little monkey ought to be happy enough--unless she tries to play fast +and loose with him. Then, I grant you, there would be the devil to pay." + +Hilda smiled. "I can't help feeling anxious about her. It has always been +my fear that, when the glamour of first love is past, Trevor might +misjudge her. She is so gay and bright that many people think her empty. +I know my mother does for one." + +"Your mother might," he conceded. "Trevor wouldn't--being a man of +considerable insight. Tell you what, though, if you want to satisfy +yourself on the score of Chris's happiness, we will get them to put us up +for a night when we leave here for town three weeks hence. How will that +suit you?" + +"I should love it, of course," she said. "But wouldn't it be rather far +out of our way?" + +"I daresay the car won't mind," said Lord Percy. + +They walked back to the house that a friend had lent for their +three-months' honeymoon. It nestled in a hollow amongst trees, the long +line of moors stretching above it. They were well out of the beaten +track. Few tourists penetrated to their paradise. Near the house was a +glade with a miniature waterfall that filled the place with music. + +"That waterfall makes for laziness," Lord Percy was wont to declare, and +many were the happy hours they had spent beside it. + +They passed it by without lingering to-day, however, for both were +feeling energetic. Briskly they crossed the little lawn before the house, +and entered by a French window. + +"Better secure some refreshments before we go on the tramp," suggested +Lord Percy. "I've got a thirst already. Hullo! What on earth--" + +He broke off in amazement. A slight figure had risen up suddenly from a +settee in a dark corner; and a woman's face, wild-eyed and tragic, +confronted them. + +"Great Scott! Who is it?" said Lord Percy Davenant. + +And "Chris!" exclaimed Hilda, at the same moment. + +As for Chris, she stood a second, staring at them; then: "Trevor has +turned me out, so I've come to you," she said her white lips moving +stiffly. "I've nowhere else to go." + +With the words she stumbled forward, feeling vaguely out before her as +though she saw not. Hilda started towards her on the instant, caught her, +folded warm arms about her, held her fast. + +"My darling!" she said, and again, "My darling!" + +But Chris heard not, nor saw, nor felt. She had reached the end of her +strength, and black darkness had closed down upon her agony, blotting out +all things. She sank senseless in her cousin's embrace.... + +It was long before they brought her back, so long that Hilda became +frightened and dispatched her husband in the motor for a doctor, wholly +forgetting her brother's expected visit in her anxiety. + +Lord Percy ultimately returned with the local practitioner, whom he had +dragged almost by force from the bedside of a patient ten miles away. He, +too, had forgotten Jack, but remembered him as he set down the doctor, +and whirled away again in a cloud of dust, leaving him to announce +himself. + +Chris had by that time recovered consciousness, in response to Hilda's +strenuous efforts, but she had scarcely spoken a word. She lay on the +sofa in the drawing-room, cold from head to foot, and shivering +spasmodically at intervals. She drank the wine that Hilda brought her +with shuddering docility; but it seemed to have no effect upon her. It +was as if the blood had frozen at her very heart. + +"Get her to bed," were the doctor's orders, and he himself carried Chris +up to Hilda's room. + +She was perfectly passive in their hands, but quite incapable of the +smallest effort, and so painfully apathetic that Hilda grew more and more +uneasy. She had never imagined that her gay, light-hearted Chris could be +thus. It wrung her heart to see her. She was like a dainty flower crushed +into the dust of the highway. + +"Nervous prostration consequent upon severe mental strain," was the +doctor's verdict later. "You will have to take great care of her, and +keep her absolutely quiet, or I can't be answerable for the consequences. +She is in a very critical state, and"--he paused a moment--"I think her +husband ought to be with her." + +"Ah!" Hilda said, and no more. + +He passed the matter over. "Don't let her talk at all if you can prevent +it, and reassure her in every way possible. I will send a composing +draught, or she will be in a high fever before the morning." + +"You fear for the brain?" Hilda hazarded. + +"I fear--many things," he answered uncompromisingly. + +He took his departure just as Lord Percy and his guest arrived, and Hilda +paused upon the step to greet her brother. + +He sprang from the car before it came to a standstill, and she saw on the +instant that he was in a towering fury. Jack Forest, the kindly, the +easy-going, the careless, was actually white with anger. + +He scarcely stopped to greet her. "Where is Chris?" he demanded. + +"She is in bed," Hilda answered, seeing he had heard the whole story. +"No," as he turned inwards, "you can't see her. Indeed you mustn't, Jack. +The doctor says--" + +"Damn the doctor!" said Jack. "I'm going to see her, in bed or not. Where +is she?" + +He was half-way upstairs with the words, and Hilda's protest fell upon +empty air. She could only follow and look on. + +Jack opened the first door he came to, and found himself in Chris's +presence. He strode straight across the room, as one who had a perfect +right, stooped over her as she lay, and gathered her up into his arms. + +"My little sweetheart!" he said, and kissed her fiercely over and over +again. + +That woke her from her lethargy, as no more tender ministrations could +have done. She wound her arms about his neck, and clung to him like a +lost child. + +"Oh, Jack!" she said. "Oh, Jack!" and burst into an agony of tears. + +Hilda closed the door softly, and went away. Jack's treatment seemed the +best, after all. + +When she saw him again he was quite calm, but there was about him a +grimness of purpose with which she was not familiar. He drew her aside. + +"Look here! I can't sleep on this. I'm going to see Trevor--at once. If I +don't bring him to reason, I shall probably shoot him; but I haven't told +her that. All she wants is to be left in peace, and peace she shall have, +whatever the cost." + +"But, my dear boy, quarrelling with Trevor on her behalf won't make for +peace," Hilda ventured to point out. + +He acknowledged the truth of this with a brief nod. "All the same, I'm +damned if I'll stand by and see him wreck her life. Let me know how she +goes on. Send a wire to the club to-morrow. No, don't! I'll wire to you +first, and let you know where I am. I'm going straight back to the +station now. With any luck I ought to catch the afternoon express. +Where's Percy?" + +"You must have something to eat," urged Hilda. "You've had nothing +whatever." + +He frowned impatiently. "Oh, rats! I can feed on board. I shan't starve." + +But she knew, with sure intuition, that the moment he was out of her +presence all thought of refreshment would leave his mind. + +She saw him go, and then returned to Chris. + +She found her sitting up in bed, rocking herself to and fro, and crying, +crying, crying, the tears of utter despair. But this distress, despite +its violence, was better--Hilda knew it instinctively--than her former +cold inertia. She gathered her to her breast, and held her close pressed +till her anguish had somewhat spent itself. + +By degrees and haltingly the story of Chris's tragedy was unfolded. + +"I've told Jack everything," she said at last. "And now I've told you, +but we won't ever talk about it any more. Jack is going to see Trevor, +and--and try to make him understand. I didn't want him to, but he would +do it. But he has promised me that Trevor shan't follow me here. Do you +think he will be able to prevent him? Do you? Do you?" + +She shuddered afresh uncontrollably at the bare thought, and Hilda had +some difficulty in calming her. + +"Dearest, I am sure he will never come to you against your will," she +said, with conviction. "I am sure you needn't be afraid. But oh, Chris, +my darling, he is your husband. Always remember that!" + +"I know! I know!" Feverishly Chris made answer, and Hilda knew that +she must not pursue this subject. "But I can never see him again, +never--never--never! I think it would kill me. Besides--besides--" She +broke off inarticulately, and Hilda did not press her to finish. + +She found that she must not speak much of Bertrand either, though she did +venture to ask why the Valpré escapade had ever been kept from Trevor in +the first place. + +"I really can't quite explain," Chris answered wearily. "When it dawned +on me that vile things had been said and actually a duel fought because +of it I felt as if I would rather die than let him know. Besides, at the +back of my mind, I think I somehow always knew--though I did not +realize--that--Bertie--came first with me, and I--I was terrified lest +Trevor should suspect it. Of course it doesn't matter now," she ended. +"He knows it all, and--as he says--we have done with each other." She +uttered a long, quivering sigh, and turned her face into the pillow. + +"My darling, so long as you both live, that can never be," Hilda said +very earnestly. "Whatever mistakes you have made, you are still his and +he is yours. Nothing can alter that." + +"He doesn't think so," said Chris. "In fact, he--he told me to go to +Bertie, so that--so that"--she shivered again--"he could set me free." + +"Oh, Chris, he did--that?" + +"Yes, I think he meant it for my sake as much as for his own. But I +couldn't do it. You see, I don't know where Bertie has gone for one +thing. And then--I know Bertie would have thought it wrong. You see"--the +tears were running down her face again--"we love each other so much, +and--and love like ours is holy. He said so." + +"I wonder how he learned that," Hilda said. "It is not a creed that most +men hold." + +"But Bertie is not like most men." Very softly came Chris's answer, and +through her tears her eyes shone with the light that is kindled by +nothing earthly. "Bertie has come through a great deal of suffering," she +said. "It has taught him to know the good from the bad. And--he said I +shouldn't be ruined for his sake. As if I cared for that!" she ended, +smiling wanly. + +"Thank God he did for you!" Hilda said. + +"Oh, do you think it matters?" said Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A MIDNIGHT VISITOR + + +It was a dark, wet night. The rain streamed from the gutters and pattered +desolately on the pavement below. It had rained for hours. + +Trevor Mordaunt sat alone, with a pipe between his teeth, his windows +flung wide to the empty street, and listened to the downpour. He had +arrived in town that afternoon to make a few necessary arrangements +before leaving England. These arrangements completed, there was nothing +left to do but to await the next morning for departure. + +It was not easy, that waiting. He faced it with grim fortitude, realizing +the futility of going to bed. It was possible that he might presently +doze in his chair, but ordinary sleep was out of the question, and he +would not trouble himself to court it. Tossing all night sleepless on his +pillow was a refinement of torture that he did not feel called upon to +bear. + +He had spent the previous night tramping the country-side, but he could +not tramp in London, and though he was not aware of fatigue, he knew the +necessity for bodily rest existed, and he compelled himself to take it. + +So he sat motionless, listening to the rain, while the hours crawled by. + +The roar of London traffic rose from afar, for the night was still. Now +and then a taxi whirred through the sloppy street, but there were few +wayfarers. Once a boy passed whistling, and the man at the window above +stiffened a little, as if in some fashion the careless melody stirred +him, but as the whistler turned the corner he relaxed again with his head +back, and resumed his attitude of waiting. + +It was nearly midnight when a taxi hummed up to the flaring lamp-post +before the house, and stopped to discharge its occupant. Mordaunt heard +the vehicle, but his eyes were closed and he did not trouble to open +them. He had laid aside his pipe, and actually seemed to be on the verge +of dozing at last. The window-curtain screened him from the view of any +in the street, and it did not occur to him that the new arrival could be +in any way connected with himself. + +It was, therefore, with a hint of surprise that he turned his head at the +opening of the door. + +"Mr. Wyndham to see you, sir," said Holmes. "Says it's very particular, +sir." + +"Who? Oh, all right. Show him in." A bored note sounded in Mordaunt's +voice. "And you needn't sit up, Holmes. I'll let him out," he added. + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes, without enthusiasm. He never liked to +retire before his master. + +Mordaunt rose with a faint touch of impatience. He expected to see Max, +and wondered that the news of his arrival in town had reached him so +quickly. But it was Rupert who entered, and turned to satisfy himself +that the door was shut before he advanced to greet his brother-in-law. + +Mordaunt stood by the window and watched the precaution with a certain +grim curiosity. He fancied he could guess the reason of this midnight +visitation, but as the boy came towards him and halted in the full light +he saw that he was mistaken. There was no indignant questioning visible +on Rupert's face. It looked only grey and haggard and desperate. + +"Look here," he said, speaking jerkily, as if it were only by a series of +tense efforts that he spoke at all. "I've come to tell you something. I +don't know how you'll take it. And I may as well admit--that I'm horribly +afraid. Do you mind if I have a drink--just to help me through?" + +Mordaunt closed the window, and came quietly forward. Just for a moment +he fancied that Rupert had already fortified himself in the manner +indicated for the ordeal of meeting him, and then again he realized that +he was mistaken. The eyes that looked into his were perfectly sane, but +they held an almost childlike appeal that made his heart contract +suddenly. He bit his lip savagely. Why on earth couldn't the fellow have +left him alone for this one night at least? + +He forced himself to be temperate, but there was no warmth in his tone as +he said, "I've no objection to your having a drink if you want it. I +suppose you've got into a scrape again, and want me to help you out?" + +"No, it's not that--at least, not in the sense you mean." + +Hurriedly Rupert made answer. He looked for a moment at the glasses on +the table, but he did not attempt to help himself. Suddenly he shivered. + +"Ye gods! What an infernal night! I had to walk ever so far before I +found a taxi. I came up by the evening train--couldn't get off duty +sooner. I thought you would be off to Dover before I got here. And I--and +I--" He broke off blankly and became silent, as if he had forgotten what +he had meant to say. + +Mordaunt leaned over the table, and mixed a drink with the utmost +steadiness. "Sit down," he said. "And now drink this, and pull yourself +together. There's nothing to be in a funk about, so take your time." + +He spoke with authority, but his manner had the aloofness of one not +greatly interested in the matter in hand. He resented the boy's +intrusion, that was all. + +Rupert accepted his hospitality in silence. This obvious lack of interest +increased his difficulties tenfold. + +Mordaunt went back to his chair by the window, and relighted his pipe. He +knew he was being cold-blooded, but he felt absolutely incapable of +kindling any warmth. There seemed to be no warmth left in him. + +Rupert gulped down his drink, and buried his face in his hands. He felt +that the thing he had come to do was beyond his power to accomplish. He +could not make his confession to a stone image. And yet he could not go, +leaving it unmade. + +In the long pause that followed it almost seemed as if Mordaunt had +forgotten his presence in the room. The minutes ticked away, and he made +no sign. + +At last, desperately, Rupert lifted his head. "Trevor!" + +Mordaunt looked at him. Then, struck possibly by the misery of the boy's +attitude, he laid down his pipe and turned towards him. + +"Well, what is it?" + +Vehemently Rupert made answer. "For pity's sake, don't freeze me up like +this, man! I--I--oh, can't you give me a lead?" he broke off desperately. + +"You see, I don't know in the least what you have come to say," Mordaunt +pointed out. "If it has anything to do with--recent events"--he spoke +with great distinctness--"I can only advise you to leave it alone, since +no remonstrance from you will make the smallest difference." + +"But it hasn't," groaned Rupert. "At least, of course, it's in connection +with that. But I've come to try and tell you the truth--something you +don't know and never will know if I don't tell you. And--Heaven help +me!--I'm such a cur--I don't know how to get through with it." + +That reached Mordaunt, stirring him to activity almost against his will. +He found himself unable to look on unmoved at his young brother-in-law's +distress. He left his chair and moved back to the table. + +"I don't know what you've got to be afraid of," he said, with a touch of +kindliness in his tone that deprived it of its remoteness. "I'm not +feeling particularly formidable. What have you been doing?" + +Rupert groaned again and covered his face. "You'll be furious enough +directly. But it's not that exactly that I mind. It's--it's the +disgusting shabbiness of it. We Wyndhams are such a rotten lot, we don't +see that part of the business till afterwards." + +"Hadn't you better come to the point?" suggested Mordaunt. "We can talk +about that later." + +"No, we can't," said Rupert, with conviction. "You'll either throw me out +of the window or kick me downstairs directly you know the truth." + +"I'm not in the habit of doing these things," Mordaunt remarked, with the +ghost of a smile. + +"But this is an exceptional case." Rupert straightened himself abruptly, +and turned in his chair, meeting the quiet eyes. "Damn it, I'll tell +you!" he said, springing to his feet with sudden resolution. "Trevor, +I--I'm an infernal blackguard! I forged that cheque!" + +"You!" Sternly Mordaunt uttered the word. He moved a step forward and +looked Rupert closely in the face. "Are you telling me the truth?" he +said. + +"I am." Rupert faced him squarely, though his eyelids quivered a little. +"I'm not likely to lie to you in this matter. I've nothing to gain and +all to lose. And I shouldn't have told you--anyway now--if Noel hadn't +come over this morning with the news that you had kicked out your +secretary for the offence I had committed. Even I couldn't stick that, so +I've come to own up--and take the consequences." + +He braced himself, almost as if he expected a blow. But Mordaunt remained +motionless, studying him keenly, and for many seconds he did not utter a +word. + +At last, "Bertrand knew of this," he said, in a tone that held more of +conviction than interrogation. + +"No, he didn't. He knew nothing, or, if he did, it was sheer guess-work. +I never suspected that he knew." Rupert's hands were clenched. He was +face to face with the hardest task he had ever undertaken. + +"He knew, for all that." Mordaunt's brows contracted; he seemed to be +following out a difficult problem. + +Finally, to Rupert's relief, he turned aside. "Go on," he said. "I'll +hear the whole of it now. What did you do with the money?" + +Rupert's teeth closed upon his lower lip. "That's the only question I +can't answer." + +"Why not?" The question was curt, and held no compromise. + +"Private reasons," Rupert muttered. + +"Family reasons would be more accurate," Mordaunt rejoined, in the same +curt tone. "You gave it to--Chris." + +The momentary hesitation before the name did not soften its utterance. It +came with a precision almost brutal. + +Rupert made a slight movement, and stood silent. + +"You are not going to deny it?" Mordaunt observed, glancing at him. + +He turned his face away. "What's the good?" + +"Just so. You had better tell me the whole truth. It will save trouble." + +"But I don't see that there is anything more to tell." Rupert spoke +with an effort. "I stole the cheque in the first place--that Sunday +afternoon--you remember? I was a bit top-heavy at the time. That's no +excuse," he threw in. "I daresay I should have done it in any case. +But--well, you know the state of mind I was in that day. You had just +been beastly generous, too. And that reminds me; you left your keys +behind, do you remember? I came in for another drink and saw them. The +temptation came then, and I never stopped to think till the thing was +done. Bertrand nearly caught me in the act. He didn't suspect anything at +the time, but he may have remembered afterwards." + +"Probably," said Mordaunt. "You weren't frank with me that day, then? +There were debts you didn't mention." + +Rupert nodded. "You were a bit high-handed with me. That choked me off. +Still, though in an evil moment I took the cheque out of your book, I +loathed myself for it afterwards. I hadn't the strength of mind to +destroy it, or the courage to send it back. But"--he turned back again +and met Mordaunt's eyes--"I wasn't going to use it, though I was cur +enough to keep it, and to like to feel it was there in case of emergency. +I didn't mean to use it--on my oath, I didn't. I don't expect you to +believe me, but it's true." + +"I believe you," Mordaunt said quietly. "And--the emergency arose?" + +Rupert nodded again. "Chris came to me--in great distress. Couldn't tell +me what she wanted it for. You weren't to know, neither was Bertrand. She +couldn't use her own without your finding out. And so--as it seemed +urgent--in fact, desperate--and as it was for her--" He broke off. "No, I +won't shelter myself in that way. I did it on my own. She didn't know. No +one knew. If Bertrand suspected, he must have thought I took it for my +own purposes. Heaven knows what she wanted it for, but she was most +emphatic that it shouldn't get round to him." + +"And you tell me she did not know how you obtained the money? Are you +certain of that?" Mordaunt's tone was deliberate; he spoke as one who +meant to have the truth. + +"Why, man, of course I am! What do you take her for? Chris--my +sister--your wife--" + +"Stop!" The word was brief, and very final. "We need not go into that. +She may not have known at the time, but she suspected afterwards. In +fact, she knew." + +"Is that what you quarrelled about?" Eagerly Rupert broke in. "Noel tried +to get it out of her, but she wouldn't tell him. You'll find out where +she's gone, and set it right? She can't be very far away." + +"That," Mordaunt said, in a tone from which the faintest hint of feeling +was excluded, "is beside the point. We will not discuss it." + +"But--" Rupert began. + +"We will not discuss it." Mordaunt repeated the words in the same utterly +emotionless voice, and Rupert found it impossible to continue. "In fact, +there seems to be nothing further to discuss of any sort. Can I put you +up for the night?" + +Rupert stared at him. + +"Well?" Mordaunt's brows went up a little. + +"Are you in earnest?" the boy burst out awkwardly. "I mean--I mean--don't +you want to--to--give me a sound kicking?" + +"Not in the least." A steely glint shone for a moment in the grey eyes. +"I don't think that sort of treatment does much good, as a rule. And I +have not the smallest desire to administer it. If you think you deserve +it, I should imagine that is punishment enough." + +Rupert swung round sharply on his heel. "All right. I'm going. If you +want me, you know where to find me. I shan't run away. And I shan't try +to back out. What I've said I shall stick to--if it means perdition." + +"And what about the Regiment?" Quietly Mordaunt's voice arrested him +before he reached the door. "Or doesn't the Regiment count?" + +Rupert stopped dead, but he did not turn. "The Regiment"--he said--"the +Regiment"--he choked suddenly--"they'll be damned well rid of me," he +ended, somewhat incoherently. + +"Come back!" Mordaunt said. + +He made an irresolute movement, but did not comply. + +"Rupert!" There was authority in the quiet voice. + +Unwillingly Rupert turned. He came back unsteadily, with features that +had begun to twitch. + +Mordaunt moved to meet him. The coldness had gone out of his eyes. He +took Rupert's arm, and brought him back to the table. + +"I think you had better let me put you up," he said. "You can sleep in my +room; I'm not wanting it for to-night. There, sit down. You mustn't be a +fool, you know. You are played out, and want a rest." + +"I--I'm all right," Rupert said. + +He made as if he would withdraw his arm, but changed his intention, and +stood tense, battling with himself. + +"Oh, man!" he burst out at last, hoarsely, "you--you don't know what +a--what a--cur I feel! I--I--I--" Words failed him abruptly; he flung +round and sank down again at the table with his head on his arms, too +humbled to remember his manhood any longer. + +"My dear fellow, don't!" Mordaunt said. He put his hand on the boy's +heaving shoulders and kept it there. "There's no sense in letting +yourself go. The thing is done, and there is no more to be said, since +neither you nor I can undo it. Come, boy! Pull yourself together. I am +going to forget it, and you can do the same. I think you had better go to +bed now. We shall have time for a talk in the morning. What?" He stooped +to catch a half-audible sentence. + +"You'll never forget it," gasped Rupert. + +"Yes, I shall--if you will let me. It rests with you. I never wish to +speak or think of it again. I have plenty of other things to think about, +and so have you. That's settled, then. I am going to see if I can find +you something to eat." + +He stood up. His face had softened to kindness. He patted Rupert's +shoulder before he turned away. + +"Buck up, old chap!" he said gently, and went with quiet tread from the +room. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A FRUITLESS ERRAND + + +"Hullo, Jack!" Noel sprang to meet his cousin with the bound of a young +panther. "Where on earth have you come from? My good chap, you're +positively drenched! You've never walked up from the station!" + +"And missed the way twice," said Jack grimly. He shook Noel off without +ceremony. "Where is Trevor? I have come to see him." + +"Oh, he's cleared out; went to town this afternoon, says he's going to +Paris to-morrow. There's been no end of a shine, you know. Chris bolted +last night. Heaven only knows where she's gone. I think she might have +told me first." + +"I can tell you," said Jack. "She is with Hilda at Graysdale. I have just +come from there. Trevor is in town, you say?" + +Noel nodded. "Bertrand's gone too, you know. That was the beginning of +it. Trevor kicked him out for robbing him. Beastly little thief! I told +Trevor he would long ago. I say, you are not going again!" + +Jack, still standing on the mat, was consulting his watch. "If there is +another up train to-night I must catch it. There's a motor here, isn't +there? Send round word that it is wanted." + +"But there isn't a train!" Noel protested. "I know the last one goes at +nine-fifty, and it's past ten now. Have you all gone raving mad? I always +thought you, anyhow, had a little sense." + +Jack uttered a grim laugh. "Well, find a time-table. I must go by the +first train in the morning, whatever the hour. I've got to see Trevor +before he leaves England." + +"You won't get any sense out of him," Noel remarked. "I told him he was a +beastly cad myself before he went, and he didn't even punch my head. Oh, +I say, Jack, this place is pretty ghastly with no one in it. I can't +stick it much longer." + +"Just get me a drink," Jack said, "and we will discuss your affairs at +length." + +Noel departed with his customary expedition. He returned with drinks for +two, which he proceeded to mix with a lavish hand. + +"I'm not going to let you have that," Jack observed. "You have dined, and +I haven't. Get me some food like a good chap, and then we will have a +talk." + +Noel submitted meekly. He was fond of Jack. Returning with sufficient to +satisfy his cousin's immediate needs, he seated himself on the table +while he ate, and embarked upon a more detailed account of the happenings +of the past two days. + +"I only saw Chris for a few minutes," he said in conclusion. "She looked +pretty desperate, and seemed horribly scared. But she wouldn't tell me +why. I knew there was something up, of course. Trevor had told me she was +upset about Bertrand. But I had no idea she was going to cut and run. I +don't know if Trevor had, but I couldn't get anything out of him. It's my +belief the silly ass was jealous." + +Jack grunted. + +"I didn't know what to do," Noel ended. "So I thought I'd stick on here +till someone turned up." + +"You ought to be going back to school," Jack remarked. + +Noel leaned carelessly down upon his elbow and looked him straight in the +eyes. "I'm not going," he said. + +"Why not?" + +"I've other things to think about. I'm going to Graysdale. Can you lend +me a couple of quid for the journey? I'll pay you back when I come of +age." + +Jack surveyed him with one brow uplifted. "Suppose I can't?" + +"I shall tramp, that's all." Noel made unconcerned response. He was +accustomed to fend for himself, and the prospect of such an adventure was +rather alluring than otherwise. + +Jack smiled a little. He liked the boy's independence. "What do you want +to go to Graysdale for?" he asked. + +"To look after Chris, of course." + +"Hilda can do that." + +"Not in the same way. You needn't try to put me off. I'm going." Noel got +off the table with his hands in his pockets and broke into a whistle. + +Jack went on with his meal in silence. + +Finally Noel came round and stood beside him. "That's understood, is it?" +he said. "One of us ought to be with her, and as you and Rupert are +chasing after Trevor, and Max is in town, it looks like my job. Anyhow, +I'm going to take it on." + +"All right," Jack said. "Go and prosper. I'm not sure that you will be +wanted. But that's a detail. I daresay Chris may like to have you." + +Noel grinned boyishly. "You're a white man, Jack! I'm jolly glad you +turned up. Between ourselves, I don't mind telling you that I've been in +a fairly stiff paste all day. It's a beastly feeling, isn't it? I'd have +looked after her better if I'd known." + +"You're a white man too," said Jack kindly. "Mind you behave like one." + +They parted for the night soon after, to meet again very early in the +morning, and finally separate upon their various errands. + +Noel departed upon his in obviously high spirits; but he maintained his +air of responsibility notwithstanding, and Jack took leave of him with a +smile of approval. + +He himself telegraphed to Hilda as soon as he arrived in town, and +acquainted her with the fact of the boy's advent. He directed her to send +her answering message to him at Mordaunt's rooms, and then proceeded +thither with the firm determination to see the owner thereof without +further delay. + +Holmes admitted him, and imparted the information that his master was at +breakfast with the eldest Mr. Wyndham, who had arrived overnight. + +Jack's jaw hardened at the news. He had not expected to find Rupert +accepting his brother-in-law's hospitality. He shrugged his shoulders +over the volatility of the Wyndhams, and announced curtly that he desired +to see Mr. Mordaunt in private. + +"Will you come into the smoking-room, sir?" asked Holmes. + +"Certainly. But tell him I can't wait," said Jack. + +He marched into the smoking-room therewith, and Holmes softly closed the +door upon him. The window by which Mordaunt had sat all night long was +open, and the sounds of the street below came cheerily in. Jack crossed +over and quietly shut it. + +Turning from this, his eyes fell upon a photograph on the mantelpiece. He +went up to it and took it between his hands. Gaily the pictured face +laughed up at him--Chris in her happiest, wildest mood, with Cinders +clasped in her arms; Chris, the child of the sunny eyes that no shadow +had ever darkened! + +Something rose suddenly in Jack's throat. He gulped hard, and put the +portrait back. Was it indeed Chris--the broken-hearted woman he had held +in his arms but yesterday? Then was the Chris of the old days gone for +ever. + +Someone entered the room behind him and he wheeled round. + +"Good morning," said Mordaunt. + +He offered his hand, but Jack ignored it and his greeting alike. + +He stood for a couple of seconds in silence, looking at him, while +Mordaunt waited with absolute composure. Then, "I daresay you are +wondering what I have come for," he said. "Or perhaps you can guess." + +"Why should I?" Mordaunt said. + +Jack frowned abruptly. He had met this impenetrable mood before. But he +would not be baffled by it. It was no moment for subtleties. He went +straight to the point. + +"I have come to tell you that Chris is at Graysdale with Hilda," he said. + +Mordaunt's brows went up. He said nothing. + +But Jack was insistent. "Did you know that?" + +"I did not." Very deliberately came Mordaunt's answer; it held no emotion +of any sort. The subject might have been one of utter indifference to +him. + +"Then where did you think she was?" + +There was an undernote of ferocity in Jack's question, almost a hint of +menace; but Mordaunt seemed unaware of it. + +"Forgive me for saying so, Jack," he said. "But that is more my affair +than yours. I have nothing whatever to discuss with you, nor do I hold +myself answerable to you in any way for my actions." + +"But I do," Jack said curtly. "I have always held myself responsible for +Chris's welfare. And I do so still." + +Mordaunt listened unmoved. "You can hardly expect me to acknowledge your +authority," he said, "since my responsibility in that respect is greater +than yours." + +"I have no desire to dictate to you," Jack answered quickly. "But I do +claim the right to speak my mind on this matter. Remember, it was I who +first brought you into her life." + +Mordaunt shrugged his shoulders slightly. "As to that, I am fatalist +enough to believe that we should have met in any case. But isn't that +beside the point? I have declined to discuss the matter with anyone, and +I am not going to make an exception of you." + +"You must," Jack said. He threw back his shoulders as if bracing himself +for a physical conflict. He was plainly in earnest. + +Mordaunt turned to the table and sat down. "You are wasting your time," +he said. "Argument is quite useless. I have already decided upon my plan +of action, and quarrelling with you is no part of it." + +"What is your plan of action?" Jack demanded. + +Mordaunt took out his cigarette-case. "I shall start for Paris in a +couple of hours. Meantime"--he glanced up--"I suppose you won't smoke? +Have you had any breakfast?" + +"Then you mean to desert her?" Jack said. + +Mordaunt's face remained immovable. He began to smoke in dead silence. + +Jack's teeth clenched. "I am going to have an answer," he said. + +"Very well." Coldly the words fell; there was something merciless in +their very utterance. "Then I will answer you; but it is my last word +upon the subject. My wife followed her own choice in leaving me, and it +is my intention to abide by her decision. If you call that desertion--" + +"I do," Jack broke in passionately. "It is desertion, nothing less. She +left you--oh, I know all about it--she left you because you literally +scared her away. You terrified her into going; there was nothing else for +her to do. She had done nothing wrong. But you--you dared to suspect her +of Heaven knows what. You dared to think that Chris--my Chris--was +capable of playing you false, you who were the only man on earth I +thought good enough for her. And do you know what you have done? You have +broken her heart!" He took the portrait from the mantelpiece and thrust +it in front of the man at the table. "That," he said, and suddenly his +voice was quivering, "that was the child you married. I gave her into +your care willingly, though, God knows, I worshipped her. No, you didn't +cut me out. I was never in the running. I never so much as made love to +her. I always knew she was not for me. When she accepted you, I thought +it was the best thing that could possibly happen. I felt she would be +safe with you. You were the one fellow I would have chosen to guard her. +And she needed guarding. She was as innocent and as inexperienced as a +baby. She didn't know the world and its beastly ways. I thought you were +to be trusted to keep her out of the mud; I could have sworn you were. +But you withdrew your protection just when she needed it most. You +practically turned her out, cut her adrift. She might have gone straight +to the bad for all you cared. And now, like the damned blackguard that +you are, you are going to clear out and leave her to break her heart!" + +Fiercely the words rushed out. Jack, the placid, the kindly, the +careless, was for the moment electrified by a tornado of feeling that +swept him far beyond the bounds of his customary easy _bonhomie_. He +towered over the man in the chair as if at the first movement he would +fell him to the ground. + +But Mordaunt remained quite motionless. He had removed his cigarette, and +sat looking straight up at him with steely eyes that never changed. When +Jack ceased to speak, there fell a silence that was in a sense more +fraught with conflict than any war of words. + +Through it at length came Mordaunt's voice, measured and distinct and +cold. "It is not particularly wise of you to take that tone, but that is +your affair. I have already warned you that you are wasting your time. +Your championship is quite superfluous, and will do no good to anyone. +I think you will see this for yourself when you have taken time to think +it over. Wouldn't it be as well to do so before you go any further--for +your own sake, not for mine?" + +"I am not thinking of myself at the present moment," Jack responded +sternly, "or of you. I'm thinking of Chris--and Chris only. Man, do you +want to kill her? For you're going the right way to do it." + +The cigarette between Mordaunt's fingers slowly doubled and crumpled into +shapelessness, but the steely eyes never altered. They barred the way +inflexibly to the man's inmost soul. He uttered neither question nor +answer. + +But Jack was not to be silenced. "I tell you, she is ill," he said. "I +saw her myself yesterday. She was simply broken down. I never saw such a +change in anyone. I couldn't have credited it. Hilda is horribly anxious +about her. She is going to wire to me here as to her condition." + +"Why here?" Very calmly came the question. + +Jack explained. Almost in spite of himself his own heat had died down, +cooled by that icy deliberation. "I went to Kellerton yesterday in search +of you, found only Noel there, but had to spend the night as it was late. +I came on by the first train, and wired to Hilda to send her message here +in case you may be wanted. It ought to come through in about an hour." + +"And you propose to wait for it?" + +"Yes, I do." Jack paused an instant; then, "You must wait too," he said +doggedly. "She isn't very likely to want you, and I've sworn you shan't +frighten her any more; but you shan't abandon her either while there is +the faintest chance that she may want you." + +"There is not the faintest." Mordaunt glanced down at the thing that had +once been a cigarette which he still held between his fingers, +contemplated it for a moment, then rose and went to the mantelpiece for +an ash-tray. "You have taken a good deal upon yourself, Jack," he said. +"But I have borne with you because I know that your position is a +difficult one. You say you know everything. That may be so, and again +it may not. In either case, our points of view do not coincide. I will +wait until that telegram comes; but it is not my intention to go to my +wife--whatever it may contain." + +Jack bit his lip savagely. "In short, you don't care what happens to +her!" he said. "You want to be rid of her--one way or another. And you +don't care how!" + +He spoke recklessly, uttering the thought that had come uppermost in his +mind without an instant's consideration. Perhaps instinctively he sought +to rouse the devil that till then had been held in such rigid control. +But the effect of his words was such as he had scarcely looked for. + +Mordaunt turned with the movement of a goaded creature and gripped him by +the shoulder. "You believe that?" he said. + +They stood face to face. Mordaunt was as white as death. His eyes in that +moment were terrible. But it seemed to Jack that they expressed more of +anguish than of anger, and he felt as if he had seen a soul in torment. +He averted his own instinctively. It was a sight upon which he could not +look. + +"Do you believe it?" Mordaunt said, his voice very low. + +"No!" Impulsively Jack made answer. That instant's revelation had +quenched his own fire very effectually. "Forgive me!" he said. "I--didn't +understand." + +The hand on his shoulder relaxed slowly. There fell a silence. Then, "All +right, Jack," Mordaunt said very quietly. + +And Jack knew that he had dropped the veil again that shrouded his soul's +agony. + +"You will wait here for that telegram?" Mordaunt asked, after a moment. + +"Yes, please." + +"Will you come into the other room? Rupert is with me." + +"No. I'll wait here, thanks." + +"Very well. I shall see you again." Mordaunt crossed to the door, then +paused, and after a moment came slowly back to the table. + +He stood before it in silence, looking down upon the portrait that Jack +had laid there as one looks upon the face of the dead. + +His face showed no sign of softening, yet Jack made a last effort to move +him. "You're not going to let her fret her heart out for you? You'll go +back to her if she is wanting you? Damn it, Trevor! You can't know what +she is suffering! And after all--she is your wife!" + +Mordaunt's mouth hardened. He made no response. + +"Surely you don't--you can't--think evil of her?" Jack said. + +Mordaunt raised his eyes slowly. "You have said enough," he said, with +quiet emphasis. "As for this portrait, take it if you value it. I never +cared for it myself." + +"Never cared for it!" Jack ejaculated. + +"No. It never conveyed very much to me. I did not regard her in that +light." + +"Then you never knew her," Jack said with conviction. + +"Possibly not." Mordaunt turned away once more. "Most of us are blind," +he said, "until our eyes are opened. I am going to send you in some +breakfast if you are sure you prefer to stay here." + +He went out quietly, leaving Jack marvelling at his own docility. The +last thing he would have expected of himself was that at the end of the +interview he also would be accepting the hospitality of the man he had +come almost prepared to shoot. The turn of events forced him into a +species of unwilling admiration. There was no denying the fact that, +mismanage his own private affairs as he might, this was a born leader of +men. + +Mordaunt himself brought him his sister's telegram some time later. + +He remained in the room while Jack opened it, but he betrayed no +impatience to hear its contents. As for Jack, he stood for several +seconds with the message in his hand before he looked up. + +"I suppose you will have to see it," he said then reluctantly. + +"That is as you like." + +But though the words were emotionless, Mordaunt's eyes searched his face, +and in answer to them Jack held out the paper. + +"I am sorry," he said. + +"In no danger. Keep Trevor away," was the message it contained. + +"As I thought," Mordaunt observed, and handed it back without further +comment. + +"She will be wanting you presently," Jack said uneasily, "You know how +women change." + +And Mordaunt smiled, a grim, set smile. "Yes, I know," he answered. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART + + +The night was very hot, even hotter than the day had been. Only the +whirring electric fan kept the air moving. It might have been midsummer +instead of the end of September. + +Bertrand de Montville, seated in an easy-chair and propped by cushions, +raised his head from time to time and gasped for breath. He held a +newspaper in his hand, for sleep was out of the question. He had been +suffering severely during the day, but the pain had passed and only +weariness remained. His face was yet drawn with the memory of it, and his +eyes were heavily shadowed. But the inherent pluck of the man was still +apparent. His pride of bearing had not waned. + +He was reading with close attention a report upon the chief event of the +hour--the trial of Guillaume Rodolphe at Valpré. It had been in progress +for four days, and was likely to last for several more. The report he +read was from the pen of Trevor Mordaunt, an account clear and direct as +the man himself. So far the evidence had seemed to turn in Bertrand's +favour, and, his protestations notwithstanding, it was impossible not to +feel a quickening of the pulses as he realized this fact. Would they ever +send for him? He asked himself. Would they ever desire to do justice to +the man they had degraded? + +It was evident that the writer of the account before him thought so. +However Mordaunt's opinion of the man himself had altered, his conviction +on the subject of his innocence of that primary crime had plainly +remained unshaken. He had not allowed himself to be biased by +subsequent events. + +"And that is strange--that!" the Frenchman murmured, with his eyes +upon the article. "Perhaps _la petite Christine_ has convinced him. +But no--that is not probable." + +He broke off as the door opened, and a quick smile of welcome flashed +across his face. He stretched out both hands to the new-comer. + +"All right. Sit still," said Max. + +He sauntered across the room, his coat hanging open and displaying +evening dress, and gave his hand into Bertrand's eager clasp. It was a +very cool hand, and strong with a vitality that seemed capable of +imparting itself. + +He looked down at Bertrand with a queer glint of tenderness in his eyes. +"I shouldn't have come up at this hour," he said, "but I guessed you +would be awake. How goes it, old chap? Pretty bad, eh?" + +"No, I am better," Bertrand said. "I am glad that you came up." + +Max drew up a chair, and sat down beside his _protégé_. For nearly three +weeks now Bertrand had been with him. A post-card written from a squalid +back-street lodging had been his first intimation that the Frenchman was +in London, and within two hours of receiving it Max had removed him to +the private nursing-home in which he himself was at that time domiciled. +For, notwithstanding his youth, Max Wyndham was a privileged person, and +owned as his greatest friend one of the most distinguished physicians in +London. + +His natural brilliance had brought him in the first place to the great +man's notice; and though he was but a medical student, his foot was +already firmly planted upon the ladder of success. There was little doubt +that one day--and that probably not many years distant--Max Wyndham would +be a great man too. Even as it was, his grip upon all things that +concerned the profession he had chosen was so prodigious that his patron +would upon occasion consult with him as an equal, detecting in him that +flare of genius which in itself is of more value than years of +accumulated knowledge. He had the gift of magnetism to an extraordinary +degree, and he coupled with it an unerring instinct upon which he was not +afraid to rely. Equipped thus, he was bound to come to the front, though +whether the Wyndham blood in him would suffer him to stay there was a +proposition that time alone could solve. + +His effect upon Bertrand was little short of magical. Sitting there +beside him with the wasted wrist between his fingers, and his green eyes +gazing at nothing in particular, there was little about him to indicate a +remarkable personality. Yet the drawn look passed wholly away from the +sick man's face, and he leaned back among his pillows with a restfulness +that he had been very far from feeling a few seconds earlier. + +"So you are reading all about the Rodolphe _affaire_," Max said +presently. + +"It is Mr. Mordaunt's own report," Bertrand explained. "It interests +me--that. I feel as if I heard him speak." + +Max grunted. He had asked no question as to the circumstances that had +led to Bertrand's departure, and Bertrand had volunteered no information. +It had been a closed subject between them by mutual consent. But to-night +for some reason Max approached it, warily, as one not sure of his ground. + +"When do you hope to see him again?" + +A slight flush rose in Bertrand's face. "Never--it is probable," he said +sadly. + +"Ah! Then you had a disagreement?" + +Bertrand looked at him questioningly. + +Max smiled a little. "No, it isn't vulgar curiosity. Fact is, I came +across my cousin Jack Forest to-day. You remember Jack Forest? I've been +dining with him at his club. We hadn't met for ages, and naturally we had +a good deal to say to one another." + +He paused, gently relinquishing his hold upon Bertrand's wrist, and +got up to pour something out of a bottle on the mantelpiece into a +medicine-glass. + +"Drink this, old chap," he said, "or I shall tire you out before I've +done." + +"You have something to say to me?" Bertrand said quickly. + +Max nodded. "I have. Drink first, and then I will tell you. That's the +way. You needn't be in a hurry. You were going to tell me about that +disagreement, weren't you? At least, I think you were. You have been rash +enough to trust me before." + +"But naturally," Bertrand said. He handed the glass back with a courteous +gesture of thanks. "And I have not had cause to regret it. I will tell +you why I disagreed with Mr. Mordaunt if you desire to know. It was +because he found that he had been robbed, and that I"--he spread out +his hands--"was the robber." + +Max stared. "Found that you had robbed him! You!" + +Bertrand nodded several times, but said no more. + +"I don't believe it," Max said with conviction. + +Bertrand smiled rather ruefully. "No? But yet the evidence was against +me. And me, I did not contradict the evidence." + +"I see. You were shielding someone. Who was it? Rupert?" + +At Bertrand's quick start Max also smiled with grim humour. "You see, I +know my own people rather well. I'm glad it wasn't Chris, anyway. Then +she had nothing at all to do with your quarrel with Trevor?" + +"Nothing," Bertrand said--"nothing." He paused a moment, then added, with +something of an effort, "But I had decided that I would go before that. +Mr. Mordaunt did not know why." + +"Because of Chris?" There was a touch of sharpness in Max's voice. + +Bertrand bent his head. "You were right that night. A man cannot hope to +hide his heart for ever from the woman whom he loves." + +"You told her, then?" + +"It arrived without telling," Bertrand answered with simplicity. + +"That means she cares for you?" Max said shrewdly. + +Bertrand looked up. "_Mais c'est passé_," he said, his voice very low. +"You have guessed the truth, but you only know it. Her husband--" + +"My dear fellow, that's just the mischief. He knows it too," Max said. + +"He!" Bertrand started upright. + +Instantly Max's hand was upon him, checking him. "Keep still, Bertrand! +You can't afford to waste your strength. Yes, Trevor knows. He knew on +the very day you left. He found out that that blackguard Rodolphe had +been blackmailing her. He had a scene with Chris, and she left him." + +"Rodolphe! _Le canaille! Est-ce possible? Alors_, she is not--not with +him--at Valpré--as I thought?" gasped Bertrand. + +"No. She has not been near him since. I knew nothing of this till to-day. +She hardly ever writes. I thought--as you did--that she had gone to +France with Trevor. Instead of that, Jack tells me, she has been with his +sister in Yorkshire all this time. She has been ill, is so still, I +believe. They are coming to town to-morrow, to Percy Davenant's flat. +Jack is very worried about it. He saw Trevor before he left England, but +couldn't get him to listen to reason. He seems to have made up his mind +to have no more to do with her, while she is fretting herself to a +skeleton over it, but daren't make the first move towards a +reconciliation. It probably wouldn't do any good if she did. He is as +hard as iron. And if his mind is once made up--" Max left the sentence +unfinished, and continued: "I think I shall go to Valpré and see what I +can do. This has gone on long enough, and we can't have Chris making +herself ill. I should think even he would see the force of that. This +trial business will be over in a few days, and if I don't catch him he +may go wandering, Heaven knows where. But it won't do. He must come back +to her. I shall tell him so." + +But at that Bertrand laid a nervous hand upon his arm. "My friend," he +said, "you will not persuade him." + +Max looked at him, and was confronted by eyes of gleaming resolution. "I +believe I shall," he said. "I can persuade most people." + +"You will not persuade him," Bertrand repeated. "That _scélérat_ has +poisoned his mind. Moreover, you do not even know what passed between +us." + +"I don't need to know," Max said curtly. + +Bertrand began to smile. "And you think you can plead your sister's cause +without knowing, _hein_? No, no! the affair is too much advanced. There +is only one man who can help the little Christine now. He would not +listen to you, _mon cher_, if you went. But--to me, he will listen, even +though he believes me to be a thief; for he is very just. I know that I +can make him understand. And for that I shall go to him to-morrow. As you +say, we cannot let _la petite_ fret." + +He spoke quite quietly, but his eyes were shining with a fire that had +not lit them for many a day. + +"My dear chap, you can't go. You're not fit for it." Max spoke with quick +decision. "I won't let you go, so there's an end of it." + +But Bertrand laughed. "So? But I am more fit than you think, _mon ami_. +Also it is my affair, this, and none but I can accomplish it. See, I +start in the morning, and by this hour to-morrow I shall be with him." + +"Folly! Madness!" Max said. + +But indomitable resolution still shone in the Frenchman's eyes. "Listen +to me, Max," he said. "If I spend my last breath thus, why not? I have +not the least desire to cling to life. And is that madness? I love _la +petite_ more than all. And is that folly? Why should I not give the +strength that is still in me to accomplish the desire of my heart? Is +mortal life so precious to those who have nothing for which to live?" + +"Rot!" Max said fiercely. "You have plenty to live for. When this +scoundrel Rodolphe is disposed of they will be reinstating you. You've +got to live to have your honour vindicated. Does that mean nothing to +you?" + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. "It would interest me exactly as the +procession under the windows interests those who watch. The procession +passes, and the street is empty again. What is that to me?" He snapped +his fingers carelessly. But the animation of his face had transformed it +completely, giving him a look of youth with which Max was wholly +unfamiliar. "See!" he said. "_Le bon Dieu_ has given me this thing to do, +and He will give me the strength to do it. That is His way, _mon ami_. He +does not command us to make bricks without straw." + +Max grunted. "Whatever you do, you will have to pay for," he observed +dryly. "And how are you going to get to Valpré without being arrested?" + +"But I will disguise myself. That should be easy." Bertrand laughed +again, and suddenly stretched out his arms and rose. "I am well," he +declared. "I have been given the strength, and I will use it. Have no +fear, Max. It will not fail me." + +"I shall go too, then," Max said abruptly. "Sit down, man, and be +rational. You don't suppose I shall let you tear all over France in your +present condition by yourself, do you? If you excite yourself in this +fashion, you will be having that infernal pain again. Sit down, I tell +you!" + +Bertrand sat down, but as if he moved on wires. "No," he said with +confidence, "I shall not suffer any more to-night. You say that you will +go with me? But indeed it is not necessary. And you have your work to do. +I would not have you leave it on my account." + +"I am coming," Max said, with finality, "And look here, Bertrand, I shall +be in command of this expedition, and we are not going to travel at +break-neck speed. You will not reach Valpré till the day after to-morrow. +That is understood, is it?" + +Bertrand hesitated and looked dubious. + +"Come, man, it's for your own good. You don't want to die before you get +there." Max's tone was severely practical. + +"Ah no! Not that! I must not fail, Max. I must not fail." Bertrand spoke +with great earnestness. He laid an impressive hand on his companion's +arm. For a moment his face betrayed emotion. "I cannot--I will not--die +before her happiness is assured. It is that for which I now live, for +which I am ready to give my life. Max--_mon ami_--you will not let me die +before--my work--is done!" + +He spoke pantingly, as though speech had become an effort. The strain was +beginning to tell upon him. But his eyes pleaded for him with a dumb +intensity hard to meet. + +Max took his wrist once more into his steady grasp. "If you will do as I +tell you," he said, "I will see that you don't. Is that a bargain?" + +A faint smile shone in the dark eyes at the peremptoriness of his speech. +"But how you are despotic--you English!" protested the soft voice. + +"Do you agree to that?" insisted Max. + +"_Mais oui_. I submit myself--always--to you English. How can one--do +other?" + +"Then don't talk any more," said Max, with authority. "There's no time +for drivel, so save your breath. You will want it when you get to +Valpré." + +"Ah, Valpré!" whispered Bertrand very softly as one utters a beloved +name; and again more softly, "Valpré!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STRANGER + + +A long wave broke with a splash and spread up the sand in a broad band of +silver foam. The tide was at its lowest, and the black rocks of Valpré +stood up stark and grotesque in the evening light. The Gothic archway of +the Magic Cave yawned mysteriously in the face of the cliff, and over it, +with shrill wailings, flew countless seagulls, flashing their wings in +the sunset. + +The man who walked alone along the shore was too deeply engrossed in +thought to take much note of his surroundings, although more than once he +turned his eyes towards the darkness of the cave. A belt of rocks +stretched between, covered with slimy, green seaweed. It was evident that +he had no intention of crossing this to explore the mysteries beyond. +Just out of reach of the sea he moved, his hands behind him and his head +bent. + +All through the day he had been pent in a stuffy courtroom, closely +following the evidence that, like a net of strong weaving, was gradually +closing around the prisoner Guillaume Rodolphe. All France was seething +over the trial. All Europe watched with vivid interest. + +Another man's name had begun to be uttered on all sides, in court and out +of it, coupled continuously with the name of the man who was standing his +trial. Bertrand de Montville, where was he? All France would soon be +waiting to do him justice, to pay him high honour, to compensate him for +the indignities he had wrongfully suffered. He would have to face another +court-martial, it was true; but the outcome of that would be a foregone +conclusion, and his acquittal would raise him to a pinnacle of popularity +to which he had surely never aspired, even in the days when ambition had +been the ruling passion of his life. + +Undoubtedly he would be the hero of the hour, if he could be found. But +where was he? Everyone was asking the question. None knew the answer. +Some said he was in England, awaiting the turn of events, abiding his +opportunity; others that he was already in France, lying hidden in Paris, +or even risking arrest at Valpré itself. The police were uniformly +reticent upon the subject, but it was generally believed that there would +be small difficulty in finding him when the moment arrived. Some went so +far as to assert that he had actually been arrested, and was being kept a +close prisoner by the authorities, who were plainly in fear of serious +rioting. Whatever the truth of the matter, the fact remained that the +tide of public opinion had set very strongly in his favour, and was +likely to wax to a tumultuous enthusiasm exceedingly difficult to cope +with when the object thereof should present himself. + +With all of this Trevor Mordaunt was well acquainted; but he, on his +part, was firmly convinced that Bertrand would keep away until he himself +had left France. To come to Valpré now would be to court a meeting with +him, and this, he was convinced, Bertrand would do his utmost to avoid. +The break between them had been quite final. Moreover, he probably +believed that Chris was at Valpré also, and he had apparently determined +not to see her again. But here an evil thought forced its way. Might they +not, quite possibly, be in communication with one another? It had +presented itself many times before, that thought, and he had sought to +put it from him. But to-night it would not be denied. It conquered and +possessed him. Was it at all likely that the parting between them had +been final? + +Only that afternoon evidence had been given of the episode that had led +to the duel on the Valpré sands more than four years before. He had +listened with a set face to the account of the insult and the subsequent +challenge, and though no name had been mentioned, he had known and faced +the fact that the woman in the case had been his wife. Even then, +Bertrand had regarded her as his peculiar charge, as under his exclusive +protection. And she--had she not told him with burning unrestraint that +she had always loved this man, would love him till she died? + +With the gesture of one who relinquishes his hold upon something he has +discovered to be valueless, Trevor Mordaunt turned in his tracks and +began to walk back over the long stretch of sand. He looked no longer in +the direction of the Magic Cave, but rather quickened his steps as though +he desired to leave it far behind. But there was no escaping that +all-mastering suspicion. It went with him, closely locked with his own +spirit, and he could not shake it off. + +Back to his hotel he walked, with no glance at sea or shining +sunset, and went straight to his own room. There was a private +sitting-room adjoining, which he was wont to share with some of his +fellow-journalists. They used it as a club writing-room when the +proceedings of the court-martial were over for the day. He had his notes +in his pocket; his report was not yet written. He remembered that he must +catch the midnight mail, and decided that he would not stop to dress. +That day's sitting had been longer than usual, and his walk along the +shore had made him late. + +He passed straight through his bedroom, therefore, and into the +sitting-room that overlooked the sea. A small, round-backed man, with a +shag of black hair upon his face, was sitting by the window. There were +three other men in the room, all writing busily. All, save the man by the +window, glanced up at Mordaunt's entrance and nodded to him. They were +all English, with the exception of the stranger, who was obviously +French. + +Mordaunt looked at him questioningly, but no one volunteered an +explanation. He had evidently been sitting there for some time. His gaze +was fixed upon the darkening sea. It was plain that he had no desire to +court attention. + +Quietly Mordaunt crossed the room to him. He was crouched like a monkey, +his chin on his hand, and made no movement at his approach. + +Mordaunt reached him, and bent a little. "_Est-ce que vous attendez +quelqu'un, monsieur_?" + +Dark eyes flashed up at him, and sharply Mordaunt straightened himself. + +"I await Mr. Mordaunt," a soft voice said. + +There was an instant's pause before, "That is my name," Mordaunt said +very quietly. + +"_Eh bien, monsieur_! May I speak with you--in private?" + +The stranger rose shufflingly. He had the look of an old man. + +"Come this way," Mordaunt said. + +He re-crossed the room, his visitor hobbling in his wake. No one spoke, +but all surveyed the latter curiously, and as the door of Mordaunt's +bedroom closed upon him there was an interchange of glances and a raising +of brows. + +But nothing passed behind the closed door that would have enlightened any +of them. For Mordaunt scarcely waited to be alone with the man before he +said, "I must ask you to wait some time longer if you wish to speak to +me. I am not at liberty at present." + +"If I may wait here--" the stranger suggested meekly. + +"Yes. You can do that. Have you dined?" + +"But no, monsieur." + +Mordaunt rang the bell. His face was quite immovable. He stood and waited +in silence for an answer to his summons. + +Holmes came at length. He betrayed no surprise at sight of the stranger +in the room, but stood stiffly at attention, as though prepared to remove +him at his master's bidding. + +"Holmes," Mordaunt said very distinctly, "this--gentleman has private +business with me, and he will wait in this room until I am able to attend +to him. Will you get him some dinner, and see that no one but yourself +comes into the room while he is here?" + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes. + +He looked his charge over with something of the air of a sentry taking +stock of a prisoner, and turned about. + +"See that he has all that he wants," Mordaunt added. + +"Very good, sir," Holmes said again, and withdrew. + +Mordaunt turned at once towards the other door. "I may be a couple of +hours," he said, and passed through gravely into his sitting-room. + +The trio assembled there glanced up again at his entrance with +professional curiosity, but Mordaunt's face was quite inscrutable. +Without speaking, he went to the table, took out his notebook, and began +to write. The evidence had that evening been completed, and the trial +adjourned for two days. It was his intention to write a short _résumé_ of +the whole, and this he proceeded to do with characteristic clearness of +outline. His pen moved rapidly, with unwavering decision, and for upwards +of an hour he was immersed in his task, to the exclusion of all other +considerations. + +The three other men in the room completed their own reports, and went out +one by one. The hotel was full of journalists from all parts, and the +dinner-hour was always a crowded time. It was considered advisable by the +English _coterie_ to secure the meal as early as possible, but to-night +Mordaunt neglected this precaution. He did not look up when the others +left, or stir from his place until the article upon which he was engaged +was finished. + +He threw down his pen at last, and leaned back to run his eye over what +he had written. It was a very brief inspection, and he made no +corrections. + +Finally he shook the loose sheets together, added two or three sketches +from his notebook, thrust them into a directed envelope, and went to the +door. + +Holmes came to him at once along the passage. + +"Get this sealed and dispatched without delay," Mordaunt said. "The +gentleman is still waiting, I suppose?" + +"Still waiting, sir," said Holmes. + +"He has dined?" + +"If you can call it dining, sir." + +"Very well. You can go, Holmes." + +But Holmes lingered a moment. "Won't you dine yourself, sir?" + +"Later on. I am engaged just now. All right. Don't wait." + +Holmes shook his head disapprovingly without further words, and turned to +obey. + +Mordaunt closed the door and turned the key, then walked slowly across +the room to the window by which the Frenchman had sat that afternoon, and +opened it wide. The night was very dark, and through it the sea moaned +desolately. The wind was rising with the tide and blew in salt and cold, +infinitely refreshing after the stuffy heat of the day. He leaned his +head for a while against the window-frame. There was intense weariness in +his attitude. + +He uttered a great sigh at last and stood up, paused a moment, as though +to pull himself together, then, with his customary precision of movement, +he turned from the open window and walked across to the door that led +into the next room. His face was somewhat paler than usual, but perfectly +composed. + +Without hesitation he opened the door and spoke. "Now, Bertrand!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MAN TO MAN + + +There was a quick movement in answer to the summons, and in a moment the +visitor presented himself. He had taken the false hair from his face, and +his gait was no longer halting. He looked up at Mordaunt with sharp +anxiety as he came through. + +"No one else has recognized me?" he asked. + +"I believe not." + +He drew a quick breath of relief. "_Bien_! It has been an affair _très +difficile_. I have feared detection _mille fois_. Yet I did not expect +you to recognize me so soon." + +"You see, I happen to know you rather well," Mordaunt said. + +The Frenchman spread out his hands protestingly. The excitement of the +adventure had flushed his face and kindled his eyes. He looked younger +and more ardent than Mordaunt had ever seen him. The weariness that had +so grown upon him during his exile had fallen from him like a cloak. "But +you do not know me at all!" he said. + +Mordaunt passed over the remark as if he had not heard it. "What have you +come for?" he asked. + +"To see you, monsieur." The reply was as direct as the question. A +momentary challenge shone in Bertrand's eyes as he made it. + +But Mordaunt remained coldly unimpressed. "It was not a very wise move on +your part," he remarked. "You will be arrested if you are discovered. The +authorities are not ready for you yet. They are quite capable of +suppressing you for good and all if it suits their purpose." + +"I know it. But that is of no importance after to-night." Bertrand stood +and faced him squarely. "After to-night," he said, "they may do what they +will. I shall have accomplished that which I came to do." + +"And that?" said Mordaunt. He looked back into the eager eyes with the +aloofness of a stranger. His manner was too impersonal to express either +enmity or contempt. + +The keenness began to die out of Bertrand's face, and a certain dignity +took its place. "That," he made answer, "is to tell you the truth in such +a fashion that, although you think that I am a thief, you will believe +it." + +"I do not think that you are in a position to tell me anything that I do +not know already," Mordaunt answered quietly. "By the way, it may +interest you to hear that the affair of the cheque has been cleared up. I +wronged you there, but I do not think that I was responsible for the +wrong." + +"I was responsible," Bertrand said, his voice very low. "I deceived you. +And for that you will not pardon me, no?" + +But the level grey eyes looked through and beyond him. "That," Mordaunt +said, "is a matter of small importance now. Deceptions of that kind are +never excusable in my opinion; but as I do not expect you to share my +point of view, it seems scarcely worth while to discuss it." + +Bertrand bowed stiffly. "It is not of that that I desire to speak. +Of myself you will think--what you will. I have merited--and I will +endure--your displeasure. But of _la petite_"--he paused--"of +Christine"--he faltered a little, and finally amended--"of _madame votre +femme_, you will think only that which is good. For that is her nature, +that. And for me," his voice throbbed with sudden passion, "I would +rather bear any insult than that you should think otherwise of her. For +she is pure and innocent as a child. Do you not see that I would sooner +die than harm her? And it has always, always been so. You believe me, +no?" + +Mordaunt's face was as stone. "I shouldn't go on if I were you," he said. +"You have nothing whatever to gain. As I have told you, I know already +all that you can tell me upon this subject, and what I think of it is my +affair alone. It is a pity that you took the trouble to come here. If you +take my advice, you will leave me on the earliest opportunity." + +"But you are mistaken. You do not know all." Impulsively Bertrand threw +back the words. "You cannot refuse to listen to me," he said. "I appeal +to your honour, to your sense of justice. If you knew all, as you say, +you would not leave her thus. If you believed her to be blameless--as +she is--you would not abandon her in her hour of trouble. I tell you, +monsieur"--his breath quickened suddenly and he caught his hand to his +side--"if you know the truth, you are committing a crime for which no +penalty is enough severe." + +He broke off, panting, and turned towards the open window. + +Mordaunt said nothing whatever. His face was set like a mask. The only +sign of feeling he gave was in the slow clenching of one hand. + +After a few moments Bertrand wheeled round. "See!" he said. "I have +followed you here to tell you the truth face to face, as I shall tell +it--_bientôt_--to the good God. You shall bind me by any oath that you +will, though it should be enough for you that I have nothing at all to +gain, as you have said. I shall hide nothing from you. I shall extenuate +nothing. I shall tell you only the truth, man to man, as my heart knows +it. For her sake, you will listen, yes?" + +His voice slipped into sudden pleading. He stretched out his hands +persuasively to the impassive Englishman, who still seemed to be looking +through him rather than at him. He waited for an answer, but none came. + +"_Eh bien_!" he said, with a quick sigh of disappointment. "Then I shall +speak in spite of you. I begin with our meeting four years ago among the +rocks of Valpré. It was an accident by which we met. I was working to +complete my invention, and for the greater privacy I had taken it to the +old cave of the contrabandists upon the shore--a place haunted by the +spirits of the dead--so that I was safe from interruption. Or so I +thought, till one afternoon she came to me like a goddess from the sea. +She had cut her foot among the stones, and I bound it for her and carried +her back to Valpré. She was only a child then, with eyes clear as the +sunshine. She trusted herself to me as if I had been her brother. That is +easy to comprehend, is it not?" + +Again he paused for an answer, but Mordaunt said no word; his lips were +firmly closed. + +With a characteristic lift of the shoulders Bertrand continued. +"_Après cela_ we met again and then again. _La petite_ was lonely, +and I, I played with her. I drew for her the pictures in the sand. We +became--pals." He smiled with a touch of wistfulness over the word that +his English friend had taught him. "We shared our secrets. Once--she +was bathing"--his voice softened imperceptibly--"and I took her into my +boat and rowed her back. It was then that I knew first that I loved her. +Yet we remained comrades. I spoke to her no word of love. She was too +young, and I had nothing to offer. I said to myself that I would win her +when I had won my reputation, and in the meantime I would be patient. It +was not very difficult, for she did not understand. And then one day we +went to explore my cavern--she called it the Magic Cave, of which she was +the princess and I her _preux chevalier_. We were as children in those +days," he put in half-apologetically, "and it was her _fête_. _Bien_, we +started. _Le petit_ Cinders went with us, and almost before we had +entered he ran away. We followed him, for Christine was very anxious. I +had never been beyond the second cavern myself, and we had only one +lantern. We came to a place where the passage divided, and here we agreed +that she should wait while I went forward. I took the lantern. We could +hear him yelp in the distance, and she feared that he was hurt. So I left +her alone, and presently, hearing him, as I thought, in front of me, I +ran, and stumbled and fell. The lantern was broken and I was stunned. It +was long before I recovered, and then it was with great difficulty that I +returned. I found her awaiting me still, and Cinders with her. It was +dark and horrible, but she was too brave to run away. I heard her +singing, and so I found her. But by that time the sea had reached the +mouth of the cave, and there was no retreat. We had no choice. We were +prisoners for the night. It might have happened to anyone, monsieur. It +might have happened to you. You blame me--not yet?" + +Again the note of pleading was in his voice, but Mordaunt maintained his +silence. Only his eyes were no longer sphinx-like. They were fixed +intently upon the Frenchman's face. + +Bertrand went on as though he had been answered. "I kept watch all +through the night, while she slept like an infant in my arms. You would +have done the same. In the morning when the tide permitted, we laughed +over the adventure and returned to Valpré. She went to her governess and +I to the fortress. By then everybody in Valpré knew what had happened. +They had believed that we were drowned, and when we reappeared all were +astonished. Later they began to whisper, and that evening the villain +Rodolphe, being intoxicated, proposed in my presence an infamous toast. I +struck him in the mouth and knocked him down. He challenged me to a duel, +and we fought early in the morning down on the sand. But that day the +gods were not on my side. Christine and Cinders were gone to the sea to +bathe, and, as they returned, they found us fighting. _Le bon_ Cinders, +he precipitate himself between us. _La petite_ rush to stop him--too +late. Rodolphe is startled; he plunge, and my sword pierce his arm. +_C'était là un moment très difficile. La petite_ try to explain, to +apologize, and me--I lead her away. _Après cela_ she go back to England, +and I see her not again. But Rodolphe, he forgive me--never. That, +monsieur--and only that--is the true story of that which happened at +Valpré. The little Christine left--as she arrived--a pure and innocent +child." + +He stopped. Mordaunt's eyes were still studying him closely. He met them +with absolute freedom. + +"I will finish," he said, "and you shall then judge for yourself. As +you know, I had scarcely attained my ambition when I was ruined. It was +then that you first saw me. You believed me innocent, and later, when +Destiny threw me in your path, you befriended me. I have no need to tell +you what your friendship was to me. No words can express it or my +desolation now that I have lost it. I fear that I was never worthy of +your--so great--confidence." His voice shook a little, and he paused to +steady it. "It was my intention--always--to be worthy. The fault lay in +that I did not realize my weakness. I ought to have left you when I knew +that _la petite_ was become your fiancée." + +For the first time Mordaunt broke his silence. "Why not have told me the +truth?" + +Bertrand raised his shoulders. "I did not feel myself at liberty to tell +you. Afterwards, I found that her eyes had been opened, and she was +afraid for you to know. It did not seem an affair of great importance, +and I let it pass. We were pals again. She gave me her confidence, and I +would sooner have died," he spoke passionately, "than have betrayed it. I +thought that I could hide my heart from her, and that only myself would +suffer. And this I can say with truth: by no word, no look, no action, of +mine were her eyes opened. I was always _le bon frère_ to her, neither +less nor more, until the awakening came. I was always faithful to you, +monsieur. I never forgot that she belonged to you--that she was--the wife +of--my friend." + +Something seemed to rise in his throat, and he stopped sharply. A moment +later very slowly he sat down. + +"You permit me?" he said. "I am--a little--tired. As you know, I began to +see at last that I could not remain with you. I resolved to go. But the +death of Cinders prevented me. She was in trouble, and she desired me to +stay. I should have grieved her if I had refused. I was wrong, I admit +it. I should have gone then. I should have left her to you. I do not +defend myself. I only beg you to believe that I did not see the danger, +that if I had seen it I would not have remained for a single moment more. +Then came the day at Sandacre, the encounter with Rodolphe. I knew that +evening that something had passed between them; what it was she would not +tell me. I tried to persuade her then to let me tell you the whole truth. +But she was terrified--_la pauvre petite_. She thought that you would be +angry with her. She feared that you would ask questions that she could +not answer. She had kept the secret so long that she dared not reveal +it." + +"In short," Mordaunt said, "she was afraid that I should suspect her of +caring for you." + +His words were too quiet to sound brutal, but they were wholly without +mercy. Bertrand's hands gripped the arms of his chair, and he winced +visibly. + +Yet he answered with absolute candour. "Yes, monsieur. I believe she was. +I believe that it was the beginning of all this trouble. But had I known +that Rodolphe would use his knowledge to extort money from her, I would +not have yielded--no, not one inch--to her importunity. I did not know +it. Christine was afraid of me also. I had fought one duel for her; +perhaps she dreaded another. And so the mischief was done." + +"And who told you that she had been blackmailed?" Mordaunt demanded +curtly. + +Bertrand made answer without hesitation. "I heard that two days ago from +Max." + +"Max?" + +"Her brother, Max Wyndham." + +"And who told him?" + +Bertrand's black brows went up. "I believe it was his cousin Captain +Forest." + +"Ah! So he sent you, did he? I might have known he would." For the first +time Mordaunt spoke with bitterness. + +"Monsieur, no one sent me." There was dignity in Bertrand's rejoinder, a +dignity that compelled belief. "I came as soon as I knew what had +happened. I came to redress a great wrong. I came to restore to you that +which is your own property--of which, in truth, you have never been +deprived. With your permission, I will finish. On the night of the +fireworks, the night you were in London, I--betrayed myself. I cannot +tell you how it happened. I know only that my love became suddenly a +flame that I could not hide. She had been in danger, and me--I lost my +self-control. The veil was withdrawn, I could hide my love no more. I +showed her my heart just as it was, and--she showed me hers." + +Bertrand rose with none of his customary impetuosity and stood in front +of Mordaunt, meeting the steady eyes with equal steadiness. + +"I tell you the truth," he said. "We understand each other, and we love +each other. But you--you are even now more to her than I have ever been. +She has need of you as she has never had of me. You are the reality in +her life. I"--he spread out his hands--"I am the romance." + +He paused as if to gather his strength, then went rapidly on. But his +face was grey. He looked like a man who had travelled fast and far. +"Monsieur," he said very earnestly, "believe me, I do not stand between +you. I love her--I love you both--too much for that. My one desire, my +one prayer, is for her happiness--and yours. Do not, I beseech you, make +me an obstacle. You are her protector. Do not leave her unprotected!" + +Again for an instant he paused, seeming to strive after self-control. +Then suddenly he relinquished the attempt. He flung his dignity from +him; he threw himself on his knees at the impassive Englishman's feet. +"Mr. Mordaunt," he cried out brokenly, "I have told you the truth. As +a dying man, I swear to you--by God--that I have hidden nothing. +Monsieur--monsieur--go back to her--make her happy--before I die!" + +His voice dropped. He sank forward, murmuring incoherently. + +Mordaunt stooped sharply over him. "Bertrand, for Heaven's sake--" he +began, and broke off short; for the face that still tried to look into +his was so convulsed with agony that he knew him to be for the moment +beyond the reach of words. + +He lifted the huddled Frenchman to a chair with great gentleness; but the +paroxysm did not pass. It was terrible to witness. It seemed to rack him +from head to foot, and through it he still strove to plead, though his +speech was no more than broken sound, inexpressibly painful to hear, +impossible to understand. + +Mordaunt bent over him at last, all his hardness merged into pity. "My +dear fellow, don't!" he said. "Give yourself time. Haven't you anything +with you that will relieve this pain?" + +Bertrand could not answer him. He made a feeble gesture with his right +hand; his left was clenched and rigid. + +Mordaunt began to feel in his pockets; his touch was as gentle as a +woman's. But his search was unavailing. He only found an empty bottle. +Bertrand had evidently taken the remedy it had contained earlier in the +evening. + +He turned to get some brandy, but Bertrand clutched at his sleeve and +detained him. "Max is here," he gasped. "Find Max! He--knows!" + +His hand fell away, and Mordaunt went to the door. Holmes had returned to +his post in the passage. He came forward as the door opened. + +"Mr. Max Wyndham is somewhere here," Mordaunt said. "Go and find him, and +bring him back with you--at once." + +Holmes nodded comprehension and went. + +Mordaunt turned back into the room. Bertrand had slipped to the floor +again, and was lying face downwards. His breathing was anguished, but he +made no other sound. + +Mordaunt poured out some brandy and went to him. He knelt down by his +side and tried to administer it. But Bertrand could not drink. He could +only gasp. Yet after a moment his hand came out gropingly and touched +the man beside him. + +Mordaunt took it and held it. + +"You--believe me?" Bertrand jerked out. + +"I believe you," Mordaunt answered very gravely. + +"You--you forgive?" + +Painfully the question came. It went into silence. But the hand that had +taken Bertrand's closed slowly and very firmly. + +"_Et la petite--la petite--_" faltered Bertrand. + +The silence endured for seconds. It seemed as if no answer would come. +And through it the man's anguished breathing came and went with a +dreadful pumping sound as of some broken machinery. + +At last, slowly, as though he weighed each word before he uttered it, +Mordaunt spoke. + +"You may trust her to me," he said. + +And the hand in his stirred and gripped in gratitude, Bertrand de +Montville had not spent himself in vain. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MESSENGER + + +"Roses!" said Chris. "How nice!" + +She held the white blossoms that Jack had sent her against her face, and +smiled. + +It was a very pathetic smile, a wan ghost of gaiety, possessing more of +bravery than mirth. She lay on a couch by the window, looking out under +the sun-blinds at the dusty green of the park. Though October had begun, +the summer was not yet over, and the heat was considerable. It seemed +oppressive after the fresh air of the moors, and Hilda watched her +cousin's languor with some anxiety. For her face had scarcely more colour +than the flowers she held. + +"Is the paper here?" asked Chris. + +She also was closely following the progress of the Valpré trial. Though +she never discussed it, Hilda was aware that it was the only thing in +life in which she took any interest just then. + +She gave her the paper containing the last account that Mordaunt had +written, and for nearly an hour Chris was absorbed in it. At last, with a +sigh, she laid it down, and drew the roses to her again. + +"It's very dear of Jack to send them. Hilda, don't you want to go out? +You mustn't stay in always for me." + +"I want you to come out too, dear," Hilda said. + +"I? Oh, please, dear, I'd rather not." Chris spoke quickly, almost +beseechingly. She laid a very thin hand upon Hilda's. "You don't mind?" +she said persuasively. + +Hilda took the little hand and stroked it. "Chris darling," she said, "do +you know what is the matter with you?" + +The quick blood rushed up over the pale face, spread to the temples, and +then faded utterly away. "Yes," whispered Chris. + +Hilda leaned down, and very tenderly kissed her. "I felt sure you did. +And that's why you will make an effort to get strong, isn't it, dear? It +isn't as if it were just for your own sake any more. You will try, my own +Chris?" + +But Chris turned her face away with quivering lips. "I think--and I +hope--that I shall die," she said. + +"Chris, my darling--" + +"Yes," Chris insisted. "If it shocks you I can't help it. I don't want to +live, and I don't want my child to live, either. Life is too hard. If--if +I had had any choice in the matter, I would never have been born. And so +if I die before the baby comes, it is the best thing that could possibly +happen for either of us. And I think--I think"--she hesitated momentarily +before a name she had not uttered for weeks--"Trevor would say the same." + +"My dear child, I am quite sure he wouldn't!" Hilda spoke with most +unaccustomed vigour. "I am quite sure that if he knew of this, he would +be with you to-day." + +"Oh no, indeed!" Chris said. She spoke quite quietly, with absolute +conviction. "You don't know him, Hilda. You only judge him from outside. +If he knew--well, yes, he might possibly think it his duty to be near me. +But not because he cared. You see--he doesn't. His love is quite dead. +And"--she began to shiver--"I don't like dead things; they frighten me. +So you won't let anyone tell him; promise me!" + +"But, my dear, he would love the child--his child," urged Hilda softly. + +"Oh, that would be worse!" Chris turned sharply from her. "If he loved +the child--and--and--hated the mother!" + +"Chris! Chris! You are torturing yourself with morbid ideas! Such a thing +would be impossible." + +"Not with him," said Chris, shuddering. "He is not like Percy, you know. +You think him gentle and kind, but he is quite different, really. He is +as hard--and as cold--as iron. Ah, here is Noel!" She broke off with +obvious relief. "Come in, dear old boy. I've been wondering where you +were." + +Noel came in. He usually haunted Chris's room during the day. The +Davenants had done their utmost to persuade him to go to school, but Noel +had taken the conduct of his affairs into his own hands, and firmly +refused. + +"I shan't go while Chris is ill," he declared flatly. "We'll see what +she's like at the mid-term." + +Jack's authority was invoked in vain, for Jack was on the youngster's +side. + +"I've squared him," said Noel, with satisfaction. "Of course, I'm sorry +to be a burden to you, Hilda, but I'll pay up when I come of age." + +Which promise invariably silenced Hilda's protests, and made Lord Percy +chuckle. + +Aunt Philippa was still absent upon her autumn round of visits, a +circumstance for which Noel was openly and devoutly thankful. Not that +her influence was by any means paramount with him, but her presence might +of itself have been sufficient to drive him away. The only person who +could really manage him was his brother-in-law, but as he had apparently +forgotten Noel's very existence, it seemed unlikely that his authority +would be brought to bear upon him. Meanwhile, Noel swaggered in and out +of his sister's presence, penniless but content, and Chris plainly liked +to have him. + +On the present occasion he interrupted their conversation without +apology, pushed Chris's feet to one side, and seated himself on the end +of the sofa. + +"Do you mind if I smoke?" he said to Hilda. + +"Yes, I do," said Hilda. + +"All right, then. You'd better go." He pulled a clay pipe out of his +pocket, and an envelope that contained tobacco. "I know Chris doesn't +mind," he said, with a twinkling glance in her direction. "Also, my +cousin, someone wants you in the next room." + +"Who is it?" said Hilda. + +"Don't ask me," said Noel. + +She hesitated momentarily. "Well, I suppose I must go. But mind, Noel, +you are not to smoke in here." + +"Say please!" said Noel imperturbably. + +"Please!" said Hilda obediently. + +He rose and accompanied her to the door. "Madam, your wishes shall be +respected." + +He opened the door with a flourish, bowed her out, closed it, and softly +turned the key. + +Then he wheeled round to his sister with gleaming eyes. "That's done the +trick, I bet. Trevor has just turned up with Jack. But you needn't be +afraid. I shan't let him in." + +"What!" said Chris. + +She started up, uttering the word like a cry. + +Noel left the door swiftly, and came to her. "It's all right, old girl. +Don't you worry yourself. We'll hold the fort, never fear. He shan't come +in here, unless you say the word." + +Chris's hands clutched him with feverish strength. Her face was deathly. +"Oh, Noel!" she breathed. "Oh, Noel!" + +He hugged her reassuringly. "It's all right, I tell you. Don't get in a +blue funk for nothing. He's not coming in here to bully you." + +But Chris only clung faster to him, not breathing. The sudden shock had +sent all the blood to her heart. She felt choked and powerless. + +"There! Lie down again," said Noel. "I'm here. I'll take care of you. I +knew he would turn up again; it's what I've been waiting for. But I swear +he shan't come near you against your will. That's enough, isn't it? You +know you are safe with me." + +She could not answer him, but she crouched back upon the sofa in response +to his persuasion. She was shaking from head to foot. + +Noel sat solidly down beside her. "Don't be frightened," he said. "We're +going to have some fun." + +"What--what can he have come for?" whispered Chris. + +"Goodness knows! But he isn't going to get it, anyway. Good old Hilda! +She went like a bird, didn't she? I call this rather amusing." + +Noel began to whistle under his breath, obviously enjoying the situation +to the utmost. + +But Chris restrained him. "I want to listen," she murmured piteously. + +He became silent at once, and several seconds crawled away, accompanied +by no sound save the interminable buzzing of a fly on the window-pane. + +Noel arose at length and with a single swoop of the hand captured and +killed it. Then he went back to Chris. + +"I say, don't look so scared! No one is going to hurt you." + +The words were hardly uttered before Hilda's light step sounded outside, +and her hand tried the door. + +Chris started violently, and cowered among her cushions. Noel chuckled +softly. + +"Chris dear, what is the matter? Let me in!" Anxiety and persuasion were +mingled in Hilda's voice. + +Noel's chuckle became audible. "She isn't going to. She doesn't want +anyone but me. Do you, Chris?" + +Chris made no reply. She was staring at the door with starting eyes. + +Noel went leisurely across and set his back against it. His eyes still +gleamed roguishly, but his mouth had ceased to smile. + +"I say, Hilda," he said, over his shoulder, "if you want to do Chris a +good turn, tell that beastly cad behind you to go. I shan't let him in, +anyhow, not if he stays till doomsday. So he may as well clear out at +once." + +"My dear Noel, how can you be so absurd?" Hilda's placid tones held real +annoyance for once. + +But the cause of it was quite unimpressed. + +"Your dear Noel is acting up to his lights," he returned, "and he has no +intention of doing anything else, absurd or otherwise. Chris is nearly +scared out of her wits, so you had better take my advice sharp." + +This last information took instant effect upon Hilda. She turned her +attention to Chris forthwith. + +"My dear, do let me in! There is nothing whatever to frighten you. I +promise you shall not be frightened. Chris, tell that absurd boy to open +the door--please, dearest!" + +"I--can't!" gasped Chris. + +"She isn't going to," said Noel. "You run along, Hilda. And you can tell +Trevor with my love that if he'll clear out now I'll meet him at any time +and place he likes to mention and have a damned old row." + +"Very good of you!" Another voice spoke on the other side of the door, +and Noel jumped in spite of himself. "But at the present moment you don't +count. Is Chris there? I want to speak to her." + +The leisurely tones came, measured and distinct, through the closed door, +and Chris covered her face and shivered. "Oh, you'll have to let him in!" +she said. "Only--don't go away! Don't leave me alone with him!" + +"Chris!" Mordaunt's voice, calm and unhurried, addressed her directly. +"Jack is here with me. Will you let us in?" + +Chris lifted a haggard face. "Open the door, Noel!" she said. + +"Why?" demanded Noel, with sudden ferocity. "We are not going to knock +under to him. Why should we?" + +"It's no use," she said. "We can't help it. Besides--besides--" She broke +off with something like a sob, and rose from the sofa. + +Noel looked at her under drawn brows. "You really mean it?" + +"Yes." She pushed the hair from her forehead, and made a great effort to +still her agitation. "I do mean it, Noel. I--wish it." + +"All right." The boy whizzed round and turned the key. + +He met Mordaunt face to face on the threshold with clenched hands, his +face dark with passion. "If you hurt her--I'll kill you!" he said. + +Had Mordaunt laughed at him, he would probably have attempted to carry +out his threat then and there, for his mood was tempestuous. But the +quiet eyes that met his blazing ones held no derision. They went beyond +him instantly, seeking the girlish figure that leaned against the +sofa-head for support; but a hand grasped his shoulder at the same moment +and turned him back into the room. + +"I shan't quarrel with you on that account," Mordaunt said. "You can stay +if you like, and satisfy yourself." + +Jack entered behind him, and went straight to Chris. He took her +quivering hands into his, and held them fast. + +"That boy deserves to be horsewhipped for startling you like this," he +said. + +She smiled at him wanly, but not as if she heard his words. "You will +stay with me, Jack?" she said beseechingly. + +"If you wish it, dear. But Trevor wants to say something rather private. +Really, you have nothing to be afraid of." + +His kindly eyes looked down reassuringly into hers. They seemed to reason +with her, to persuade and soothe at the same time. + +But Chris's hands clung to his. "Don't--don't go!" she said. "I want +you--I want you, Jack." + +"Suppose we sit down," said Jack practically. "Trevor, I wish you'd kick +that boy downstairs. It would do him good and me too. This isn't a family +conclave." + +"Noel can stay," Mordaunt answered quietly. He was still looking towards +his wife, but he did not seem to be regarding her very intently. "You are +mistaken in thinking that I have anything to say to Chris in private. I +have only come to tell her what I have already told you, that Bertrand is +at Valpré, ill and wanting her. I will take her to him--if she will +come." + +"Trevor!" She turned to him with eyes of sudden horror--horror so +definite that it swamped all her personal shrinking. "How is he ill? +You--you have hurt him!" + +"I have done nothing to him," Mordaunt answered. "He is suffering from +heart-disease, and cannot be moved. I must start from Charing Cross in an +hour. Will you come with me?" + +"To go to him?" Her eyes were still dilated, but they did not waver from +his. + +"To go to him." He repeated the words with precision, and waited for her +answer. + +But Chris sat in silence, her hands in Jack's. + +"Look here," Noel broke in abruptly, "if Chris goes, I go." + +"Very well," Mordaunt said. "If Chris desires it, you may." + +Chris came out of her silence with a little shudder, and turned to the +man beside her. "Jack, tell me what to do!" + +"I think you had better go, dear," Jack said. + +"But if--but if--oh, is he very ill?" She looked again at her husband. + +"He is very ill indeed," Mordaunt said. + +"You think I ought to go?" She asked the question with an obvious effort. + +"I have come to fetch you," he said. + +"Then--he is dying!" she said, with sudden conviction. + +Mordaunt was silent. + +Abruptly she left Jack and went up to him. "Trevor," she said, "would you +want to take me to him if--if--" + +"If--?" he repeated quietly. + +"If you thought I was doing wrong to go?" + +He made a slight movement, as if the question were unexpected. "I should +have explained to you," he said, "that your brother Max is in charge of +him, so that when I am not with you--and, as you know, I am attending the +Rodolphe trial--you will not be alone." + +"Oh, Max is there!" she said, with relief. "But what is he doing at +Valpré?" + +"He went there with Bertrand." + +"But I thought Bertrand could not go to France," she hazarded. + +"He went in disguise." + +"Why?" Her lips trembled upon the word. + +"Because he had something to say to me." With the utmost calmness his +answer came. + +"Ah!" She started and turned so white that he put out a hand to steady +her. + +She laid her own within it, as it were instinctively, because she needed +support. + +"What was it?" she whispered. + +He looked at her gravely. "Are you afraid to be alone with me?" he said. + +"No." + +"Then--quick march!" said Jack, with his hand through Noel's arm. + +They went out together, Noel glancing back for the smallest sign from his +sister to remain. + +But she made none. She stood quite still, with her hand in her husband's, +waiting. + +As the door closed Mordaunt spoke. "Have you been ill?" + +"No," she said faintly. "Not--not really ill." + +She was aware of his close scrutiny for a moment, but she made not the +slightest attempt to meet it. + +"You want to know what Bertrand said to me," he said. "And you have a +right to know. He told me the whole history of your friendship from the +beginning to the end." + +"He told you about--about Valpré?" Her eyelids quivered, as if she wished +to raise them but dared not. + +"Yes." + +"Then you know--" Her hand fluttered in his. + +"I know everything," he said. + +Her white face quivered piteously. "And you--you are still angry?" + +"No, I am not angry." He led her back to the sofa. "Sit down a minute," +he said. "I don't think you are quite fit for this, and if you are going +back with me to Valpré, you will need to reserve your strength." + +He sat down beside her, both her hands firmly clasped in his, as if +thereby he would impart to her the strength she lacked. + +"You mean me to go, then?" murmured Chris. + +"Don't you want to go?" he asked. + +"If he really wants me--" she faltered. "And if you--you wish it, too." + +"My dear," he said, "do my wishes make any real difference?" + +She caught her breath sharply, and bent her head that he might not see +her face. "Yes," she whispered, under her breath. + +"Very well," he said, "I wish it, too." + +She was silent, but suddenly her tears began to fall upon the strong +hands that held hers. She would have given anything to have repressed +them at that moment. With her whole soul she shrank from showing him her +weakness, but it overpowered her. She bowed her head lower still, and +wept. + +He sat quite motionless for seconds, so that even in the depth of her +distress she marvelled at his patience. But at last, very gently, he +moved, let her hands go, and rose. + +He stood awhile turned from her, his face to the window, though the +sun-blind was all that could have met his view; finally, with grave +kindness, he spoke. + +"I think I had better leave you to prepare for the journey. There is not +much time at your disposal, and you will probably need it all. It is +settled that Noel is to go with us?" + +"You won't mind?" she whispered. + +"I think it a very good plan," he answered. + +He turned round and came back to her. She had commanded herself to a +certain extent, but still she could not raise her face. She waited +tensely as he approached, possessed by a sudden, almost delirious longing +to feel the touch of his lips. + +Her desire surged into leaping hope as he stopped beside her. Would +he--could he? But he did not stoop. He only laid his hand for a moment +upon her head. + +"Chris," he said, "try to think of me as a friend--and don't be afraid." + +She thrilled at the low-spoken words. In another moment she would have +conquered all hesitation and sprung up to feel his arms about her, to +hide her face against him, to open to him all her quivering heart. But +for that moment he did not wait. + +With the utterance of the words his hand fell, and he moved away. + +The opening and the closing of the door told her he had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ARREST + + +"Ah, but what a night for dreams!" + +The cool salt air came in from the sea like a benediction, blowing softly +about the sick man by the window, sending a gleam of life into eyes grown +weary with long suffering. He leaned back upon his pillows for the first +time in many hours. + +"It is as if the door of heaven had opened," he said. + +"You're not going yet, old chap!" Max answered, a curious blending of +grimness and tenderness in his voice. + +"But no--not yet--not yet." Softly Bertrand made answer, but resolution +throbbed in his words also. "I must not fail her--my little pal--my bird +of Paradise. But the night is very long, Max, _mon ami_. And the +darkness--the darkness--" + +Max's hand came quietly down and closed upon his wrist. "I'll see you +through," he said. + +"Yes--yes. You will help me. You are one of those created to help. That +is why you will be great. The great men are always--those who help." + +The words came slowly, sometimes with difficulty, but the young medical +student made no attempt to check them. He only sat with shrewd eyes upon +the sick man's face and alert finger on his wrist, marking the waning +strength while he listened. For he knew that the night was long. + +Years afterwards it came to be said of him that his patients never died +until his back was turned. It was not strictly true, but it conveyed +something of the magnetism with which he wrought upon them. He knew the +crucial moment by instinct, when to grapple and when to slacken his hold, +and he never went by rule. + +And so on that his second night of vigil by the side of a dying man, +though he recognized speech as a danger, he made no effort to silence +him. He knew that weariness of the spirit that finds no vent was a +greater danger still. + +"So you think I have a future before me?" he said. + +"I am sure of it." Bertrand spoke with conviction. "It will not be an +easy future, _mon ami_. Perhaps it will not be happy. Those who climb +have no time to gather the flowers by the way. But--it will be great. You +desire that, yes?" + +"In a fashion," Max said. "I don't know that I consider greatness in +itself as specially valuable. Do you?" + +"I?" said Bertrand. "But I have passed all that. There was a time when +ambition was to me as the breath of life. I thought of nothing else. And +then"--his voice dropped a little--"there came a greater thing--the +greatest of all. And I knew that I had climbed above ambition. I knew +success and fame as a procession that passes--that passes--the mirage in +the desert--the dream in the midst of our great Reality. I knew all this +before my ruin came. It was as if a light had suddenly been held up, and +I saw the work of my life as pictures in the sand. Then the great tide +rushed up, and all was washed away. But yet"--his voice vibrated, he +looked at Max and smiled--"the light remained. For a time, indeed, I was +blind, but the light came back to me. And I know now that it was always +there." + +He paused, and turned his head sharply. + +"What is it?" said Max. + +"I heard a sound." + +"There are plenty of sounds in this place," Max pointed out. + +"Ah! but this was different. It sounded like--" He stopped with a gasp +that made Max frown. + +Undoubtedly there was a sound outside, the tread of feet, the jingle of a +sword. Max got up, still frowning, and went to the door. + +He had barely reached it before there came a loud knock upon the panels, +and a voice cried: "_Ouvrez_!" + +Max's knowledge of French was exceedingly limited, but that fact by no +means dismayed him. He turned round to Bertrand for a moment. + +"I'm going to have a talk with this johnny. Don't agitate yourself. You +are not to move till I come back." + +"_Ouvrez_!" cried the voice again. + +"All right?" questioned Max. + +Bertrand was leaning forward. His eyes were very bright, his breathing +very short. "They have come--to take me," he said. + +"I'll see them damned first," said Max. "You keep still, and leave it to +me." + +His hand was on the door with the words. A moment more he stood, +thick-set and British, looking back. Then with a curt nod, he opened the +door, and passed instantly out, pulling it after him. + +Half a dozen soldiers filled the passage. The one who had knocked--an +officer--stood face to face with him. + +"Now what do you want?" asked Max. + +He stood, holding the door-handle, his red brows drawn, a glint of battle +in the green eyes beneath them. And so, during a brief silence, they +measured each other. + +Then quite courteously the Frenchman spoke. "Monsieur, my duty brings me +here. Will you have the goodness to open that door?" + +"It's a good thing you can speak English," Max remarked, with his +one-sided smile. "What do you want to go in there for? The room is mine." + +"And you are entertaining a friend there, monsieur." The Frenchman still +spoke suavely; he even smiled an answering smile. + +"That is so," Max said. "Do you know his name?" + +"It is Bertrand de Montville." There was no hesitation in the reply. He +looked as if he expected the Englishman to move aside, as he made it. But +Max stood his ground. + +"And what is your business with him?" he asked. + +The officer's brows went up. "Monsieur?" + +"You have come to arrest him?" Max questioned. + +The Frenchman hesitated for a moment, then: "I must do my duty," he said. + +The green eyes contemplated him thoughtfully for a space. Then, "I +suppose you know he is dying?" Max said slowly. + +"Dying, monsieur!" The tone was sharp, the speaker plainly incredulous. + +Max explained without emotion. "He is suffering from an incurable disease +of the heart, caused by hardship and starvation. If you go in and agitate +him now, I won't give that for his chances of lasting through the night." + +He snapped his fingers without taking his eyes from the other's face. + +"Is it true?" the Frenchman said. + +"It is absolutely true." Max spoke quietly, but there was force behind +his words. "You can do what you like to safeguard him, though he is quite +incapable of getting away. You can surround the house and post sentries +at the door. But unless you want to kill him outright, you won't take him +away from here. You can send one of your own doctors to certify what I +say. You don't want to kill him, I presume?" + +The Frenchman was listening attentively. It was evident that Max Wyndham +was making an impression. + +"My orders are to arrest him and to take him to the fortress," he said. + +"Dead or alive?" asked Max. + +"But certainly not dead, monsieur. All France will be calling for him +to-morrow." + +"That's the funny part of it," said Max. "France should have thought of +that before. Well, sir, if you want him to live, all you can do is to +wait. I will keep him going through the night, and you can send a doctor +round in the morning." + +"You are a doctor?" asked the Frenchman keenly. + +"No. I am a medical student." + +"And you are friends, _hein_?" + +"Yes, we are friends. It was I who brought him here." + +"But what a pity, monsieur!" There was a touch of kindly feeling in the +words. + +"Yes," Max acknowledged grimly. "It was a pity. But his reason for coming +was urgent. And, after all, it made little difference. It has only +hastened by a few weeks the end that was bound to come." + +"You think that he will die?" + +"Yes." Max spoke briefly. His tone was one of indifference. + +The Frenchman looked at him curiously. "And what was his reason for +coming?" + +"It was a strictly private one," Max said. "This trial had nothing to do +with it. It will certainly never be made public, so I am not at liberty +to speak of it." + +"And has he done--that which he left England to do?" + +"Not yet, sir, but he may do it--if he lives long enough." Again Max's +tone was devoid of all feeling. He still stood planted squarely against +the closed door. + +"And you think he will not do that?" + +"On the contrary," said Max, "I think he will--if I am with him to keep +him going." + +He spoke with true British doggedness, and a gleam of humour crossed the +Frenchman's face. He made a brief bow. + +"M. de Montville is fortunate to possess such a friend," he said. + +The corner of Max's mouth went down. "As to that," he said dryly, "he +might do a good deal better, and a very little worse. Now, sir, what are +you going to do?" + +The Frenchman looked quizzical. "It seems that I must take your advice, +monsieur, or risk very serious consequences. I shall leave a guard here +during the night, and I must ask you to give me the key of this door. +_Après cela_"--he shrugged his shoulders--"_nous verrons_." + +Max turned without protest, opened the door, and withdrew the key. He +stood a moment listening before he turned back and laid it in the +officer's hand. His face was grave. + +"I think I must go to him," he said. "You will see to it that he is not +disturbed?" + +"No one will enter without your permission," the Frenchman answered. "And +you, monsieur, will remain with him until I return." + +"I see," said Max. Again, for an instant, the fighting gleam was in his +eyes, then carelessly he laughed. "Well, I shan't try to run away. He and +I are down in the same lot. You would find it harder to turn me out than +to keep me here." + +"I believe it, monsieur." There was no irony in the words or in the bow +that accompanied them. "And I repeat, he is a happy man who possesses +your friendship." + +"Oh, rats!" said Max, and suddenly turned scarlet. "You are talking +through your hat, sir. If you've quite done, I'll go." + +It was the most boyish utterance he had permitted himself, and as he gave +vent to it he was so obviously ill at ease that the Frenchman smiled. + +"But you are younger than I thought," he said. "Will you shake hands?" + +Max gave his customary hard grip. They looked into each other's eyes for +a moment, and separated with mutual respect. + +Five seconds later Max had returned to his self-appointed task of helping +a dying man to live through the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +VALPRÉ AGAIN + + +"How dark it is!" said Chris. "And how we are crawling!" + +She turned her white face from the carriage-window with the words. They +were the first she had uttered since leaving Paris. + +Neither of her two companions responded at once. Noel was curled up in +the farther corner asleep, and her husband sitting opposite was writing +rapidly in a notebook. He stopped to finish his sentence before he looked +up. She was conscious of a little sense of chill because he did so. + +"Why don't you try to get a sleep?" he said then. "We shall not reach +Valpré for another two hours." + +"I can't sleep," she said. + +Her eyes avoided his instinctively. They were more nearly alone together +at this moment than they had been since their brief interview that +morning at the Davenants' flat. It seemed weeks ago to Chris already. + +"Have you tried?" he asked. + +"No." + +He did not make the obvious rejoinder, but glanced again at his writing, +added something, and put it away. Then, with his usual deliberation of +movement, he left his seat and came over to her side. + +She had a moment of desperate shyness as he sat down. "Don't let me +interrupt you," she said nervously. + +He ignored the words, as if he considered them foolish "I should like you +to get a little sleep," he said. "You have had a long day. Look at that +fellow over there, setting the good example." + +"He hasn't so much to think about," said Chris, with a smile that +quivered in spite of her. + +"Are you thinking very hard?" he asked. + +"Yes." She brought out the word with an effort, for suddenly she wanted +to cry again, and she was determined to keep back her tears this time. + +He made no comment, but sat and looked at the blank darkness of the +window. + +After a time she mastered herself, and stole a glance at his grave face. + +"You--I suppose you will be busy at the court again to-morrow?" she said. + +"Yes." He turned to her in his quiet way. "It will be the last day in all +probability." + +"You think the verdict will be made known?" + +"Yes." + +She shivered a little. "And the sentence?" + +"The sentence will probably not be disclosed till later." + +She shivered again, and he reached forward and drew the window a little +higher. + +"I'm not cold," she said quickly. "Trevor, aren't you--just +a little--sorry for him?" + +"For whom?" + +"For the prisoner--for--for Captain Rodolphe." She stammered the name +with downcast eyes. + +"No." Very calmly and very decidedly came his answer. "I have no pity for +a man of that sort. I think he should be shot." + +"Oh, do you?" she said with a gasp. + +"Yes, I do. A treacherous scoundrel like that is worse than a murderer in +my opinion. So is anyone who is fundamentally untrustworthy." + +"Oh, but--but--Trevor--," she said, and suddenly there was a note of +pleading in her halting words, "that includes the weak people with the +wicked. Don't you think--that is rather hard?" + +"Quite possibly." He made the admission in a tone she did not understand, +and relapsed into silence. + +She felt as if the subject were closed, and did not venture to pursue it. + +But after a moment he surprised her by a quiet question: "Why don't you +try to convince me that I am wrong?" + +She looked up at him quickly, as if compelled. His eyes were waiting for +hers, met them, held them. + +"I am not suggesting that you should defend Rodolphe," he said. "You were +not thinking of him. He is not one of the weak." + +"I was thinking of myself," she said. "And--and--and--" She wavered and +stopped. + +"Rupert?" he suggested. + +She caught her breath. "What made you think of him?" + +"You were thinking of him, were you not?" + +She made a gesture of helplessness. "Yes." + +"I see," he said. "But you needn't be anxious about Rupert. He came to me +long ago and told me the truth." + +She opened her eyes wide. "What made him do that?" + +"He heard that Bertrand was bearing the blame for his misdeeds, and he +had the decency to be ashamed of himself." + +"Oh!" said Chris. She was silent for a moment, still meeting his steady +gaze. Suddenly her mouth quivered and she turned from them. "Trevor, I--I +am ashamed too." + +"Hush!" he said. + +The word was brief, it sounded stern; but in the same instant his hand +found hers and held it very tightly. + +She mastered herself with a great effort in response to his insistence. +"Were you very angry with him?" she whispered. + +"No." + +"You didn't--punish him in any way?" + +"No. I told him to forget it and said I should do the same. As a matter +of fact, I had forgotten it until this moment." Mordaunt's tone was +unemotional; he released her hand as he was speaking, and again she was +conscious of that small sense of chill. + +"You forgave him, then?" she said. + +"Yes, I did." He paused a moment; then: "By and bye," he said, "Rupert +will take on the management of the Kellerton estate, and I think he will +probably be a great help to me." + +Chris's eyes shot upwards in amazement. "Trevor! Not really?" + +He smiled a little. "Yes, really. It is the sort of life that suits him +best; and he will be pretty busy, so it ought to keep him out of +mischief." + +"Oh, but, Trevor--" she said, and stopped short. + +"Well?" he said gently. + +"I didn't think you would do that," she murmured in confusion. "I didn't +think you would ever trust any of us again." + +"You think I may regret it?" he said. + +She turned her face to the window and made no answer. + +He sat beside her for a little longer in silence, then rose, bundled up a +travelling-rug to form a cushion, and arranged it in her corner. "Lean +against that," he said kindly. "I know you can sleep if you don't try not +to." + +She thanked him with trembling lips, and as he turned away she caught his +hand for a moment and held it to her cheek. + +He withdrew it at once though with absolute gentleness. He did not speak +a word. + +Thereafter she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but the drumming of +the train was in her ears perpetually, and she could not forget it. +Present also was the consciousness of her husband's quiet watchfulness. +Though he held aloof from her, his care surrounded her unceasingly. Not +once had she felt it relax since she had placed herself in his charge. +Did he guess? she asked herself, and trembled inwardly. He was being very +kind to her in a distant, measured fashion. Was that the reason for it? +Could it be? + +Her thoughts went back to her talk with her cousin, to the bitter words +she had uttered. Would he really care if she were to die? Would he? Would +he? She longed to know. + +But of course he would not, or he could not be so cold. For Bertrand's +sake he had come to fetch her. He had evidently forgiven Bertrand just as +he had forgiven Rupert. He forgave everybody but her, she thought to +herself forlornly. For his wife alone he could not make allowances. + +Again the hot tears welled up, and her closed lids could not keep them +back. The dumb anxiety that had gnawed at her heart all through the day +returned upon her overwhelmingly, became a burden too heavy to be borne. +She covered her face and sobbed. + +"Chris!" Her husband's voice came down to her in the depths of her +distress. His hand pressed her head. "Leave off crying," he said. "You +mustn't cry." + +She turned her face upwards, all blinded with tears. "Trevor, I know--I +know we shan't be in time!" + +They were not the words she wanted to say to him, but they came uppermost +and were uttered almost before she knew. She wondered if they would make +him angry, but it was too late to recall them. She reached out her hands +to him imploringly. + +"Oh, forgive me for caring so much!" + +"Hush!" he said again very gently. "I understand." + +He put the hair back from her forehead, and dried her eyes. There was +something almost maternal in his touch. + +"You mustn't cry," he said again. "I think you will be in time, and if +you are, you will need all your strength; so you mustn't waste it now. +Come, you are going to be brave?" + +"I'll try," she said faintly. + +"See if you can get to sleep," he said. + +"But I know I can't," whispered Chris. + +"I think you can." He spoke with grave conviction. + +"Will you--will you hold my hand?" faltered Chris. + +He took it at once. She felt his fingers close steadily upon it, and a +sense of comfort stole over her. She clasped them very tightly, and +closed her eyes. + +The train drummed on through the night, bearing her back to Valpré, back +to the old enchantments, to the sands, the caves, and the rocks. She +began to hear again the long, low wash of the sea. Or was it the sound of +wheels that raced over the metals? Before her inner vision came the +spreading line of foam that had rushed how often to catch her dancing +feet. And the quiet pools crystal-clear among the rocks, with the +sunshine that turned their pebbly floors to gold, so that they became +palaces of delight, draped with exquisite curtains of rose and palest +green, peopled with scuttling crabs that were not really crabs at all, +but the spellbound retinue of the knight who dwelt in the Magic Cave. + +She looked towards the Gothic archway, expectant, with quickening +breath. Surely he would be coming soon! Ah, now she saw him--a radiant, +white-clad figure, with the splendour of eternal youth upon him and the +Deathless Magic in his eyes. + +And suddenly her own eyes were opened, so that she knew beyond all +doubting that the spell that bound him--that bound them both--was the +spell of Immortality, the Divine Passport--Love the Indestructible. + +Thereafter came a wondrous peace, solacing her, calming her, wrapping her +round. Once she stirred, and was conscious of a quiet hand holding hers, +lulling her to a more assured restfulness. And so at last she slipped +into the quiet of a deep slumber, and the throbbing anxiety sank utterly +away. + +When she opened her eyes again it was in answer to her husband's voice. +She awoke quite naturally to find him bending over her. + +"We are at Valpré," he said. + +She sat up quickly. "Why, I have been asleep!" + +"Yes," he said. "And you will be the better for it. Noel has gone to +secure a conveyance. The place is crammed, as you know. You are feeling +all right?" + +Again for a moment she felt his scrutiny, and her heart quickened under +it. But she mustered a smile. + +"Yes, quite. You will let me come with you, Trevor? You won't go on +first?" + +"I shall not leave you," he said. + +He gave her his hand to descend from the train, and she clung to it while +they threaded their way through the noisy, gesticulating crowd that +thronged the platform. + +She breathed a sigh of relief when she found herself at last in the +ramshackle _fiacre_ which Noel by strenuous effort had managed to +commandeer. The din bewildered her. But for her husband's protecting +presence she would have felt like a lost child. + +As they rumbled away over the stones of Valpré he spoke. "We are in time, +Chris." + +Her heart gave a great throb. "Are we? But how do you know?" + +"Everyone is talking of him," he said quietly. "And I gather that he has +been arrested." + +"Oh, Trevor!" she breathed in dismay. + +"Max is with him," he reminded her. "I don't think they would get rid of +him very easily. We shall know more when we get there." + +They clattered on to the _plage_, and the cold sea wind blew in upon +them. + +Noel snuffed it appreciatively. "Smells decent, anyway. Wonder if they're +still running the same old show. I say, Chris, do you remember the Goat?" + +Chris did. With her face to the dark sea and the sound of its waves in +her ears, she recalled the old light-hearted days and the shrill +admonitions of Mademoiselle Gautier. How often had she prophesied +disaster for her charge among the rocks of Valpré! Chris smiled a little +piteous smile. Ah, well! + +The _fiacre_ jerked and jolted over the stones. They left the _plage_ +behind and came to a standstill with a violent swerve. + +"Now what?" said Noel. + +They seemed to have come suddenly upon a crowd of people. Late though it +was, all Valpré apparently was awake and abroad. + +They staggered on again at a snail's pace, hearing voices all about +them, now and then catching glimpses of faces in the light of the +carriage-lamps. + +"Feels like a funeral procession!" observed Noel jocularly. + +"Shut up!" said Mordaunt curtly. + +Chris squeezed his hand very hard and said nothing. + +Slowly, slowly they drew near to the hotel. A glare of lights shone upon +them. The whole place was a buzz of excitement. + +They turned into the courtyard, passing two soldiers on guard at the +gate. No one spoke to them, or attempted to delay their progress. They +stopped before the swing-doors. + +An obsequious official came forward to greet them as they descended, and +Mordaunt entered into conversation with him. Two soldiers were on guard +here also, standing like images on each side of the entrance. Noel +studied them with frank interest. Chris stood and waited as one in a +dream. + +At last her husband turned to her. He introduced the obsequious one, who +bowed very low and declared himself enchanted. And then she found herself +moving through the vestibule, where a great many men of all nationalities +looked at her curiously and a great babble of voices hummed like some +immense machinery. + +She turned to the man beside her with a touch of nervousness, and at once +his hand closed upon her arm. + +"Bertrand is still living," he said. + +She looked up at him imploringly. "Can't we go to him?" + +"Yes, we are going now. He is upstairs. They wanted to take him to the +fortress, but he is too ill to be moved." + +They went on together. He led her into a lift, and they passed out of +reach of the staring crowd. + +A familiar figure was awaiting them above, and greeted Chris +deferentially as she stepped into the corridor. + +"Why, Holmes!" she said, and held out her hand to him. + +He took it with reverence. For the first time in her memory she detected +a hint of emotion on his impassive face. + +"He--hasn't gone, Holmes?" she whispered breathlessly. + +"No, madam. He is waiting for you," Holmes made answer, very gently. + +Waiting for her! She smiled piteously in her relief. Bertrand de +Montville would be her perfect knight to the last. + +As they went on down the long corridor she missed the grasp of her +husband's fingers, and stopped like a child to slip her hand back into +his. + +He looked down at her gravely, saying nothing. And so they came at last +to the door of Bertrand's room. + +Two soldiers were on guard here also. The door was closed. + +Holmes went quietly forward and showed a paper to one of the sentries. + +Chris waited with a beating heart. Suddenly, with a sob, she turned and +clung to her husband's arm. "Trevor, I--I am afraid!" + +"There is no need," he said. + +"I have never seen death," she whispered. "Will he seem--different?" + +He looked at her for a second in such a way that her eyes fell from his. + +"Would you like me to go in first?" he asked. + +"No--no. Only, Trevor, hold my hand! You won't let go? Promise!" + +He did not promise, but somehow without words he reassured her. The door +opened before them, and they entered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE INDESTRUCTIBLE + + +Within the room all was dim. + +An arm-chair piled with many pillows stood facing the open window, and as +her eyes became accustomed to the twilight Chris discerned the outline of +a figure that reclined in it. At the same moment there came to her the +sound of a voice, husky and difficult, yet how strangely familiar. + +"Ah, but the tide--the tide!" it said. "Can we not hold it back my dear +Max--a little longer? It rushes up so fast--so fast. Soon all will be +gone. Only a picture in the sand, you say? But no, it is more than that. +See, it is greater than all the things in the world--greater than +the Sphinx, _ma petite_--greater than your Cleopatra's Needle. Ah, you +laugh, because you have no need of it. But yet it is your own, and so +will it always be. Do you hear the tide among the rocks, _mignonne_? It +is there that my heart is buried. Come with me, and I will show you the +place--if the tide permit." + +There came a gasp, and silence. + +Some one guided Chris gently forward till she stood behind the great +chair at the window, looking down upon the black head that rested +against the pillow. Her fear had passed, but yet she drew no nearer. +Instinctively she stood and waited. + +Suddenly, and more clearly, the voice spoke again. + +"We must climb, _chérie_, we must climb. We dare not stay upon these +rocks. It is steep for your little feet, but to remain here is to die. +_Alors_, we will say our prayers and go. _Le bon Dieu_ will keep us safe. +And we have been--pals--since so long." + +A softer note in the last sentence made her aware that he was smiling. +She bent a little above him. But still she waited. + +"_Comment_?" he said. "You are afraid? But why, my bird of Paradise? Is +it life that you fear--this little life of shadows? Or Death--which is +the gateway to our great Reality? Listen, _mignonne_! I am a prisoner +while I live, but the gate opens to me. Soon I shall be free. No, no! +I cannot take you with me. I would not, _chérie_, if I could. Your place +is here. But remember--always--that I love you still. And my love is +stronger than death. It stretches into eternity." + +He paused, and made a slight gesture of refusal. "Ah, no!" he said. "I do +not want a priest. My sins are all known--and pardoned. I only want--one +thing now." + +"What is it, old chap?" It was Max Wyndham's voice, but pitched so low +that Chris scarcely recognized it. + +The head on the pillow moved, turning towards the speaker. "So, _mon +ami_, you are still there?" + +"What is it you are wanting?" Max said. + +Bertrand drew a breath that was cut short and ended in a gasp. "_Mon +ami_, I only want--to hold her little hand in mine--and to hear her +say--that she is--happy." + +And then it was that Chris moved forward, as if impelled by a volition +not her own, and knelt down by Bertrand's side. + +"Do you want me, Bertie?" she said. "I've come, dear! I've come!" + +He put out his hand to her at once, but slowly, as though feeling his +way. "Christine!" he said. + +She took the groping hand, and held it fast pressed between her own. +"Yes, dear?" she murmured. + +"You are really here?" he said. "It is not--a dream?" + +"No, Bertie, no! It is I myself, here with you at Valpré." + +She felt his hand close within her own. "You are come--to say good-bye to +me?" he said. "And Mr. Mordaunt--is he here also?" + +"He brought me," whispered Chris. + +"Ah!" She heard the relief in his voice. "Then--Christine, all is right +between you?" + +But she was silent, for she could not answer him. + +He stirred. He leaned slowly forward. "Tell me," he said, very earnestly, +"tell me that all is well between you." + +But Chris said no word. She only bowed her head over the hand she held. + +There was a brief silence. Bertrand was bending over her. He seemed to be +trying to see her face. He moved at last, passed his free arm around her, +and spoke. "Mr. Mordaunt--is he here?" + +"Yes, I am here." Very steadily came Mordaunt's answer. Mordaunt himself +took Max's place beside him. + +Bertrand looked up at him. "Monsieur--" he said, and hesitated. + +"Ask him what he wants," muttered Max, gripping his brother-in-law's +elbow with tense insistence. + +"Do you want anything?" He uttered the question at once, quite clearly, +without emotion. + +"Monsieur," Bertrand said again, and there was entreaty in his voice, +"out of your great goodness of heart you have brought _la petite_ to +say adieu to me. Will you not--extend that goodness--a little farther? +Will you not--now that you understand--now that you understand"--he +repeated the phrase insistently--"remove the estrangement of which I have +been--the so unhappy cause?" + +"Bertie, no--no!" There was sharp pain in Chris's voice. She raised +herself quickly. "You don't understand, dear, and I--can't explain. But +you are not to ask that of him. I can't bear it." + +There was a quiver of passion in the last words. It was as though they +were uttered in spite of her. + +Mordaunt stood motionless, in utter silence. His face was in shadow. + +Bertrand turned to the kneeling girl. "Will you, then, plead for +yourself, _chérie_?" he said. "He will not refuse you. He knows all." + +"No, no; he doesn't," said Chris. + +"But you will tell him," urged Bertrand gently. "See, I cannot leave +you--my two good friends--thus. Since I have caused so much trouble +between you, I must do my possible to redress the evil. _Chérie_, promise +me--that you will go back to him. Not otherwise shall I die happy." + +"I can't!" whispered Chris. "I can't!" + +"But why not?" he said. "You love him, yes?" + +But Chris was silent. She was trembling from head to foot. + +"I know that you love him," Bertrand said, with confidence. "And for +that--you will go back to him. You cannot live your life apart from him. +You belong to him, Christine, and he--he belongs to you. Mr. Mordaunt--my +dear friend--is it not so?" + +But before he could answer, feverishly Chris again broke in. "Bertie, +hush--hush! It isn't right! It isn't fair! Oh, forgive me for saying it! +But can't you see that it isn't? He has forgiven me, and we are friends. +But you mustn't ask any more than that, because--because it's no use." A +sudden sob rose in her throat. She swallowed it with an immense effort. +"He has been kind to me--for your sake," she said, "not my own. I have +done nothing to deserve his kindness. I have never been worthy of him, +and he knows it. I married him, loving you. Oh no, I didn't know it, but +I ought to have known. And when I did know, I would have left him and +gone with you. Nothing can ever alter that. And do you suppose he will +ever forget it? Because I know--I know--that he never can!" + +She ceased abruptly, and turned aside to battle with her agitation. +Bertrand's hand stroked hers very tenderly, but his eyes were raised to +the man who stood like a statue by his side. + +He spoke after a moment very softly, almost as if to himself. +"Neither will he forget," he said, "that our love was a summer +idyll that came to us unawares in the days when we were young, and +that though the idyll will come to an end, our love is a gift +immortal--imperishable--indestructible--a flame that burns upwards and +always upwards--reaching the Divine. And because he remembers this, +he will understand, and think no evil. Christine," he turned to her again +very persuasively, "you love him. You have need of him. I know it well. +You are sad. You are lonely. Your heart cries out for him. Little +Christine, will you not listen to it? Will you not go back to him?" + +The man's whole soul was in the words. They quivered with the intensity +of his appeal. Yet they went into silence. Chris was turned away from +him. Only by the convulsive holding of her hand did he know that they had +reached her heart. + +The silence lengthened, became oppressive, became a burden too heavy to +be borne. + +"Christine!" He was becoming exhausted. His voice was no more than a +whisper, but it throbbed with earnest entreaty. + +Yet Chris remained silent still, for she could not speak in answer. + +Several seconds passed. It seemed that the appeal would go unanswered. +But at length the man who stood on Bertrand's other side made a quiet +movement, bending down a little. + +"You need not distress yourself, Bertrand," he said, very steadily, and +as he spoke his hand was on the Frenchman's shoulder. "Chris will never +leave me again." + +"Ah!" Eagerly Bertrand looked up at him. He had begun to gasp again, +and his words were hurried and difficult of utterance. "And you, +monsieur--you will not--leave her?" + +Mordaunt made no verbal answer, but their eyes must have met in the +dimness and some message have passed between them, for there was a tremor +of sheer relief in his voice when Bertrand spoke again. + +"Oh, my friend!" he said. "My dear friend!" And, yielding to the hand +that gently pressed him back, he reclined upon his pillows and became +passive. + +Mordaunt remained beside him for several seconds longer, but he did not +speak again. When he straightened himself at length, he glanced round for +Max, and motioned him away. + +They went together into the adjoining room and softly closed the door. + +And so Chris and her _preux chevalier_ were left alone by the open window +to end their summer idyll to the music of the rising tide that crooned +and murmured among the rocks of Valpré that had seen its beginning. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE END OF THE VOYAGE + + +How the sun was shining on the water! What a glorious morning for a +bathe! Chris laughed to herself--a happy little, inconsequent laugh. + +But she must be quick or Mademoiselle Gautier would catch her and forbid +her to go! Poor old Mademoiselle, who had been brought up in a convent +and thought all nice things were improper! + +Would Bertie be there with his boat, a white-clad, supple figure, with +his handsome olive face, and his dark eyes with their friendly laugh? +Surely it was the flash of his oars in the sunlight that dazzled her so! +She would swim to him through the crystal water, and he would stretch out +his hands to her, and she would go up to him like a bird from the sea, +and perch upon the stern. He would scold her a little for swimming out so +far, but what of that? She liked being scolded by Bertie! + +How warmly the sun shone down upon them! And how she loved to watch the +slim activity of him as he bent to his work! She wished they did not move +quite so fast, even though the speed was so delicious, for they were +nearing the rocks. Oh no, she was not afraid! Who could be afraid with +Bertie in the boat? But when they reached the rocks, it would be the end +of the voyage, and she did not want it to end. + +Ah! now she could catch the sparkle of the sand, and there away in the +distance a powdery whirl which was all she could see of Cinders. He was +evidently digging for dear life, and again Chris laughed. + +And now she stood with her back to the glittering sea, and her face to +the mysterious granite of the ages. Where had he gone--her _preux +chevalier_? Was he hidden in the dark recesses of the Magic Cave? She +would go in search of him. He would not hide long from her, for she +possessed the secret of the spell that would draw him forth. + +But the rocks were slippery under her feet, and more than once she +stumbled. She found herself confronted by obstacles such as had never +before obstructed her path. A little tremor of distress went through her. +Why had she quitted that sunny sea? Why had she ever suffered herself to +be beguiled into the boat? + +It became increasingly difficult, wellnigh impossible, to go forward. She +turned aside. Ah! there was Bertie, after all, out on the sand, waiting +for her. He held a naked sword in his hand. Evidently he was drawing +pictures. She knew what they would be before she reached him: St. George +and the Dragon, that "beast enormous with eyes of fire"; the Sphinx, and +Cleopatra's Needle. She saw them all; and soon the great tide would race +up with a mighty roaring and wash them all away. Was it not the destiny +of all things--save one? + +Stay! Was it the sand on which he was expending his skill thus? Why, +then, did his sword move so swiftly, like lightning-flashes, where the +sun caught it? Ah, now she saw more clearly. It was a duel. He was +fighting with every inch of him, steadfast, unflinching, in her cause. +How splendidly he controlled himself! The clear grace of his every +movement held her spellbound. + +For a while she watched him, not heeding his adversary, watched the glint +of the crossed swords, the pass, the thrust, and the return. And then, by +some mysterious influence, her eyes were drawn upward to the face of his +opponent, and it was as if one of those flashing blades had found her +heart. For Bertrand de Montville was fighting the grey-eyed, level-browed +Englishman who was her husband! + +With a cry she sprang forward to intervene. She flung herself between +them in an agony. One of them--Trevor--caught her in his arms. The other +staggered backwards and fell upon the sand. She saw his dead face as he +lay.... + +"Oh, Trevor!" she cried in anguish. "Trevor! Trevor!" + +He held her closely to him. She felt his hand laid in soothing on her +head. Gasping, she opened her eyes upon his face. + +"That's better," he said gently. "You've had a bad dream." + +"Was it a dream?" she asked him wildly. "Was it a dream?" + +And then she remembered that Bertrand had fallen asleep in the very early +hours of the morning, and that they had led her away to another room to +rest. Worn out in mind and body, she had yielded. She marvelled now that +she had been so easily persuaded. + +She turned within the circle of her husband's arm. "Trevor, you promised +you would call me if he waked." + +His hand was still upon her head; its touch was sustaining, subtly +comforting. "He did not wake, dear," he said. + +The words were few, but in a flash she knew the truth. Her eyes grew wide +and dark. Her clinging hands tightened upon his arm. She made no sound of +any sort. She even ceased to breathe. + +He drew her head down upon his shoulder, and held her fast pressed +against his breast. "Don't be afraid," he said. + +But she remained tense in his arms, till her rigidity and silence alarmed +him. He began to rub her cold cheek. + +"Chris, speak to me!" + +She turned her face into his breast, and with relief he heard her begin +to breathe again. But she did not speak. She only lay there dumbly in +crushed stillness. + +For a while he waited, but at last, as she made no movement, he spoke +again. "Chris, would you like me to leave you?" + +That reached her. She turned her face quickly upwards. "No, Trevor." + +The wide, strained look was still in her eyes, but they did not flinch +from his. + +"I knew he was dead," she said, speaking very quickly, "when I woke up +just now. I thought--I thought--" She broke off, as if she could not +continue. "And afterwards--directly I saw you by my side--I knew it was +true. Trevor"--the piteous note sounded again in her voice--"why are you +not afraid of death?" + +"Because I don't believe in it," he said. + +"But yet--but yet--" Her words faltered away into silence. + +He laid his hand again upon her head. "My dear, death is purely physical. +You know it in your heart as well as I do. Death is the passing of the +spirit--no more than that." + +She uttered a deep sigh. "Oh, Trevor, I wish I wasn't so wicked." + +His hand began to caress her hair. "I don't think you know what +wickedness is, dear," he said. + +"But I do--I do!" she protested. "I--I am almost terrified sometimes when +I realize it. And I feel as if--as if--Bertie wouldn't have been taken +away--if I hadn't loved him so." Her voice sank, she hid her face a +little lower. + +"But you make a mistake," he said gently. "There is no sin in love--so +long as it is love and nothing else. A good many sins masquerade in the +form of love, but love itself--what you and I call love--is sinless. And +it is that--and that alone--that can never die." He paused a moment, and +his hand ceased to stroke her bright hair and became still. "It is bad +enough," he said, his voice sunk very low, "that I could ever +misunderstand you; but, my dear, don't make things harder by +misunderstanding yourself." + +She moved at that as though it touched her very nearly, and suddenly she +slipped from his arms, and knelt beside him. "Trevor," she said, with +quivering lips, "don't be too kind to me! I can't bear it." + +He looked down at her very sadly. "It would be a new experience for you, +my Chris, if I were," he said. + +"No--no." She bent her face quickly, and laid it against his hand. "I've +deceived you a hundred times--yes, and lied to you. You bore with me over +and over again, even when you knew I wasn't being straight. You did your +very utmost to keep me true. You trusted me even when you knew I was +cheating. Oh, I don't wonder that I killed your love at last. The wonder +was that it lived so long." + +She stopped, for his hand had clenched upon itself at her words. But he +said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue. She went on +quickly-- + +"I know you feel you must be kind to me now because"--she caught her +breath--"Bertie is gone, and he wished it so. But--but--I shan't +expect--a great deal. I--I shall be quite grateful--if I may have--a +little friendship. I don't want you to think that--that--" + +"That you want my love?" he said. + +"Oh, I didn't mean that!" She looked up at him in distress, but she could +not see his face with any distinctness. + +His elbow was on the arm of his chair, and his hand shaded it. + +"I know I forfeited all that," she said. "And I want you to feel that +I--understand, and shall never expect to have it again. That is what I +mean when I say, don't be too kind to me. You have been that, and much +more than that, already. But I won't trade on your generosity. I am not a +child any longer to need support and protection. I am old enough to stand +alone." + +"And what of my promise to Bertrand?" + +He asked the question quite quietly, as though it were of no special +moment to him, but she flinched before it, and turned her face aside. + +"Oh, I don't think he would want you to be kind to me for his sake--if he +knew how much it hurt?" + +Mordaunt was silent for a moment, then: "And you have no use for my +love?" he said. + +She made a movement almost convulsive. "Trevor, don't--torture me!" + +"My child," he said, "I only ask because I need to know." + +She laid a trembling hand on his. "If I thought--you loved me--" She +stopped, battling desperately for self-control, and after a few seconds +began again. "If I thought--you wanted me--" + +"I do want you, Chris," he said. + +She cast a startled look into his face. "Oh, but you only say that +because--because--" + +"Because it is the truth," he said. + +"But is it the truth?" she asked, a little wildly. "Is it? Is it? Oh, +Trevor, if you knew--if you knew--" Her voice failed. She began to sob. +"I can't bear it," she whispered. "I can't! I can't!" And with that she +broke down utterly, bowing her head upon his knee in a passion of weeping +more violent than he had ever before witnessed. + +"Chris! Chris!" he said. + +He would have lifted her, but she sank lower, as one crushed to the earth +by a burden too heavy to be borne. + +For a while her weeping was the only sound in the room, but at length he +spoke again over her bowed head. + +"Chris--my darling--do you know--I can't bear it either if you cry like +this?" + +His voice was low and not very steady. It appealed to her even in the +depth of her distress. She stretched up a trembling hand, and clasped +his. + +Gradually her sobbing grew less violent, and at length it ceased; but she +remained crouched against his knee with her face hidden for many minutes. + +Trevor said no more. Only at last he bent and laid his lips upon her +hair. + +She moved then sharply, and for a single instant she saw his face. It was +enough, more than enough for her quick heart. In a moment the barrier +between them was down. She raised herself and threw her arms around his +neck. + +"My dear! My dear!" she said. + +"It's all right," he whispered back. + +Her arms tightened. She clung to him passionately. "Trevor--darling, I +didn't know! I didn't understand!" + +"It's all right," he said again. + +She pressed her face to his. "Trevor, don't fret, dear! I'm not worth it. +And I--I'm coming back to you--if you will have me." + +"I want you," he answered simply. + +"Not just for his sake?" she pleaded. "Or even for mine?" + +"For my own," he said. + +She was silent for a little. Then impulsively, with something of her old, +quick charm of movement, she turned her lips to his. "Trevor, I believe I +should die without you." + +"Poor child!" he said gently. + +"No--no! Don't pity me! Love me--love me!" + +He pressed her closer. "My Chris, no one ever loved you more." + +"Yes," she whispered. "I know that now. And I shall never forget it. +Trevor, I love you, too. You believe that?" + +"I know it, dear," he said. + +"And because I love you," she said, "I'm not afraid of you any more. +Trevor, let us promise each other that nothing shall ever come between us +again." + +"Nothing ever shall," he said steadily. + +"Nothing ever shall," she repeated softly. "And--and--Trevor--" She +suddenly hid her face against his shoulder and became silent again. + +"But you are not afraid of me?" he said. + +"No, dear, no; not afraid." Her voice quivered notwithstanding. "Only +foolish, you know, and--and--a little doubtful lest--lest--when I've told +you--something--you shouldn't be quite--pleased." + +"I am--quite pleased, dear," he said. + +She raised her head. "Trevor! You know?" + +He took her face between his hands. "My darling, yes." + +She opened her eyes wide, searching his face. "But that--that wasn't your +reason for--wanting me back?" + +He looked straight down into her eyes, still holding her. "I wonder if I +need answer that question," he said slowly. + +She was silent for a moment, then stretched her hands to him with a +gesture of complete confidence. "No, dear, you needn't. Just forgive me +for asking--that's all." + +He stooped at once without speaking, and the kiss that passed between +them was the seal of a perfect understanding. + +Not till some time later did the request he was expecting her to make +find utterance. He had been giving her a few details of Bertrand's +illness and death. + +"He simply went in his sleep," he said, "scarcely an hour after you left +him. Max and I were both with him, but he went so easily that we neither +of us knew when it was. There was no suffering or distress of any sort. +He just passed." + +He spoke with great gentleness. He was keenly anxious to remove her fear +of death. But he knew by the way her arm tightened about his neck that +something of the awe of it was upon her even while he spoke. + +"Trevor," she said, in a very low voice, "I almost think I would like to +see him." + +"Yes, dear." + +"But--I can't go alone," she said. "Will you come too?" + +"Of course," he said. + +She rose to her feet. "Let's go now." + +He rose also with her hand in his. "There is some stuff here Max gave me +for you," he said. "Drink that first." + +"Where is Max?" she asked. + +"I sent him to bed, and Noel too." + +"And you have been sitting up with me ever since?" + +"It was only three hours," he said. + +He gave her Max's draught with the words, as if to check all comment on +his action, and Chris submissively said no more. But she held his hand +very tightly as they went out together. + +The dawn was just spreading golden over the sea when they entered the +room where Bertrand lay asleep. The light of it poured in at the open +window like a benediction. Outside, the two sentries still stood on +guard. But within was no earthly presence, only the scent and sound of +the sea, only the growing splendour of the day, only the quiet dead +waiting for the Resurrection.... + +Chris's hand trembled within her husband's as she drew near. But later, +when she looked upon the dear, familiar face, the awe went out of her +own. + +For Bertrand's sleep was very easy, serenely natural. It seemed to Chris +that the man's vanished youth had come back to beautify his rest. For all +the weariness she had grown accustomed to see had passed away. She even +thought he smiled. + +Back on a rush of memory came his words: "I know that all Love is +eternal, and Death is only an incident in eternity." + +Till that moment they had never recurred to her. From that moment she +carried them perpetually in her heart. + +She drew a little nearer. She bent above him. And it was to her as if the +dead lips spoke: "Though I shall not be with you, you will know that I am +loving you still. It will be as an Altar Flame that burns for ever. +Believe me, Christine, Death is a very small thing compared with Love." + +"I know it, I know it," whispered Chris. + +When she stood up again, though her eyes were shining through tears, she +was smiling also. + +"Your friend and mine, Trevor," she murmured. "May I--may I kiss him just +once? I never have before." + +"Of course you may," he said. + +She bent again, bent till her lips just touched the dead man's brow. + +"I won't disturb you, _preux chevalier_," she whispered. "Only +good-night, dear! Good-night!" + +For a little while she stood looking down upon the dead man's rest; but +at length she turned away, drawing her husband with her, and went to the +open window. + +Hand in hand they looked out upon a world in which "all things were made +new." They spoke no word. They thought the same thoughts together, and no +words were needed. + +Only when they turned at length from the shimmering sunlight back into +the quiet room, their eyes met. And in the silence Trevor Mordaunt bent +with reverence and kissed the living, as she had kissed the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE PROCESSION UNDER THE WINDOWS + + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! The procession was passing under the windows. + +Bertrand de Montville, the vindicated hero, was being borne to his +soldier's grave on the hill by the fortress. Soldiers preceded him. +Soldiers followed him. A mixed crowd of journalists--men from all parts +of Europe--came after. And from the window above, his little pal looked +down. + +Max Wyndham stood beside her, the corners of his mouth drawn down and a +very peculiar expression in his green eyes. He had amazed his French +friend by refusing to follow the _cortège_. Even Chris did not know why, +for he had clothed himself in an impenetrable cloak of reserve since +Bertrand's death, and he was not apparently minded to lift it even for +her benefit. + +Yet she was glad to have him with her, for Noel had elected to go with +Mordaunt; and though she was quite willing to be left alone, she found +Max's presence a help. She had seen but little of him until the moment +that they stood together looking down upon the passing procession. + +It was a grey day. Down on the shore the long waves rolled in to break in +wide lines of surf up the rock-strewn beach. The thunder of their +breaking mingled with the roll of muffled drums. The full honours of a +soldier's funeral were to be accorded to the man who had died before +France could make amends. + +Slowly the procession wound along the _plage_, and back upon Chris's +memory flashed the day when she and Cinders had waited at the garden gate +to see the soldiers pass. She saw again the handsome face of the young +officer marching behind his men, the sudden animation leaping into it at +sight of her, the eagerness with which he turned to greet her, his +momentary hesitation at her request, his smiling surrender. What would +have happened, she asked herself, if he had managed to resist her that +day? Had that been the beginning of his downfall? Might he otherwise +have passed on unscathed? + +A sudden sense of coldness assailed her. The street below was empty. She +stood alone. She leaned her head against the window-frame. How grey it +was! + +"Sit down!" said Max practically. + +She started. "Oh, Max!" she said weakly. + +"Here you are," he said, and guided her down into a chair. "That's the +way. Now lean back and shut your eyes." + +She obeyed him, without question, as she always did. A vague sense of +consolation began to steal through her. His hand, holding hers, dispelled +the loneliness. + +After a while she opened her eyes and found him watching her. "Oh, Max," +she said, "I'm so glad you are here." + +"It seems as well," he rejoined, rather grimly. "Don't you think it's +time you began to behave rationally?" + +"Have I been very silly?" she asked. + +"Very, I should say." He sat down on the arm of her chair, and drew her +head to lean against him, a very rare demonstration with him. + +She relaxed with a sigh. "I can't help it," she said wistfully. "I used +to think life was just splendid--it was good to be alive. And now--I +sometimes wish I'd never been born." + +"Which is a mistake," said Max. "There's no time for that sort of thing. +Besides, it's futile. Now, don't cry! That's futile, too, when there is +anything else to be done. I don't suppose Trevor will be feeling +particularly jolly when he gets back from this show--though there's +something rather funny about it to my mind--and you'll have to cheer him +up. I suppose you won't be upset if I smoke?" + +"What can you see funny in it?" questioned Chris. + +He lighted his cigarette before replying. "My dear girl," he said then, +"I can't endow you with a sense of humour if you don't possess one. But +all this pomp and circumstance has got its funny side, I assure you. +Bertrand saw that; he was a philosopher. If he were here now, he would +snap his fingers and laugh." + +"He might," Chris admitted. "At least, he called it a dream in the midst +of a great Reality." + +"Which it is," said Max. "Get outside it all. Get above it if you can. +And you will see. Come, you mustn't grizzle. You don't seriously suppose +you've lost anything, do you?" He looked down at her suddenly, with a +smile in his shrewd eyes. "I say, you must get rid of that idea," he +said. "Even I know better than that. I believe in my own way I was almost +as fond of him as you were. But I knew he was going long ago, and that +nothing on earth could stop him. He knew it too. Between ourselves, I +don't think he much wanted to stop. But there was nothing unwholesome +about him. He wasn't a shirker. He played the game. And now you're going +to play it, eh? You're going to buck up. You're going to give Trevor a +sample of what the Wyndhams can do. I know we're a rotten tribe, but +we've got our points. In Heaven's name, let's make the most of 'em!" + +He bent abruptly and kissed her. + +"Life's all right," he said. "And so's the world. But you've got to get +used to the idea that it's not a place to stay in. It's no good sitting +down by the wayside to cry. You've got to look on ahead and keep moving. +It's the only possible way. If you don't, you get buried in every +sand-storm." + +Chris reached up her arms and clasped him very tightly. "Max, tell me +Love doesn't die!" + +"It doesn't," said Max stoutly. + +"You are sure? You are sure?" + +"Yes, I am sure." + +"How do you know? Tell me--tell me!" + +Chris's voice was piteous. Yet for a moment he was silent. Then, "I +know," he said, "by the way that chap faced death." + +"Because he wasn't afraid?" she whispered. "Because he died so easily?" + +"Because he didn't die," said Max. + + * * * * * + +Late that night the clouds passed, and a new moon rose behind the +fortress and threw a golden shimmer over the sea. The waves were washing +over the rocks with a deep, mysterious murmuring. To Chris, kneeling at +her window, it was as if they were trying to tell her a secret. She had +knelt down to pray, but her thoughts had wandered, and somehow she could +not call them back. Almost in spite of herself, she went in spirit over +the rocks till she came to the Magic Cave. And here she would have +entered, but could not, for the tide was rising and barred her out. + +"Not there, _mignonne_," said a soft voice at her side. + +She turned her head. Surely he had spoken in the stillness! Surely it was +no dream! + +But the action brought her back, back to the shadowy room, and the +moonlit sea, and the prayer that was still little more than a vague +longing in her heart. + +She uttered a brief sigh, and rose. And in that moment she found herself +face to face with her husband. + +"Trevor!" she said, startled. + +He was standing close to her, and suddenly she knew that he had been +there for some time, waiting for her to rise. + +Her first impulse was one of nervous irresolution, but it possessed her +for a moment only. With scarcely a pause she went straight into his arms. + +"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "Isn't the sea lovely? Have +you--have you seen the new moon?" + +He held her in silence, and she heard the beating of his heart, strong +and steady, where she had pillowed her head. She turned her face upwards +after a little. + +"Trevor, do you remember, long ago, how we saw the new moon together--and +you wished? Have you wished this time?" + +"It is always the same wish with me," he said. + +"What! Hasn't it come true yet?" She leaned her head back to see his face +the better. "Trevor," she said, "are you sure it hasn't come true?" + +She saw his faint smile in the moonlight. "I think I should know if it +had, dear." + +"I'm not so sure," said Chris. "Men are very silly. They never see +anything that isn't absolutely in black and white, and not always then. +Tell me what it was you wished for." + +But he shook his head. "That isn't fair, is it? If the gods hear, it will +be struck off the list at once." + +"Never mind the gods," said Chris despotically. "I'll get it for you +somehow--even if they do. Now tell me! Whisper!" She drew down his head +and waited expectantly. + +"What a ghastly predicament!" he said. + +"Trevor! Don't laugh! I'm not laughing." + +"I'm sorry," he said. "But really I can't afford to run any risks of that +sort." + +"Then you still think you may get it?" questioned Chris. + +"I think it possible--if the gods are kind." + +"My dear," she said suddenly, "let's leave off joking. If it's something +you're wanting very badly, why don't you--pray for it?" + +"I am praying for it, sweetheart," he said. + +"Oh, Trevor, tell me! And I'll pray, too." + +She wound her arms persuasively about his neck. Her face was very sweet +in the moonlight. The deep-sea eyes were very tender. + +He looked into them and yielded. "Chris, I am praying for the love of the +woman I love." + +"Oh, but, Trevor--Trevor--" + +"Yes," he said, and his voice vibrated upon a deeper note--a note that +was passionate. "I want more than a little, my Chris. But I will be +patient. I will wait all my life long if I must. Only--O God, let me win +it at last!" + +He stopped. She was looking at him strangely, and there was something +about her that he had never seen before--something that compelled. + +"But, Trevor dearest," she said, "it was yours long--long ago. Oh, don't +you understand? How shall I make you understand?" + +She clasped him closer. The moonlight was shining in her eyes--the eyes +of a woman who had come through suffering into peace. + +"My darling," she said, "before God, I am telling you the truth. If you +hadn't come back to me, I should have broken my heart." + +He took her head between his hands. He bent his face to hers, looking +deep into those shining, unswerving eyes. + +"Won't you believe me?" she pleaded. "Dear, I couldn't lie to you if I +tried. Must I put it more plainly still? Then listen! You are more to me +now than Bertie ever was. I do not say more than he might have been. But +we can't put back the clock. I wouldn't if I could. No--no, not even to +live again those old happy days. Trevor, do you understand now, dear? For +if you don't, not even Aunt Philippa could be harder to convince. I am +yours. I am yours. The other was a dream that can only come true in +Paradise. But this is our Reality--yours and mine. And I can't live +without you. I want you so. I love you so. Trevor--my husband!" + +Her lips quivered suddenly, but in that moment his found them and +possessed them. She gave herself to him in complete surrender, as she had +given herself on their wedding-night. Yet with a difference. For she +throbbed in his arms; she thrilled to his touch. She opened to him the +doors of her soul, and drew him within... + +"And now you understand?" she whispered to him later. + +"Yes--I understand," he said. + +She laid her head again upon his breast. "To understand all is to forgive +all," she said. + +To which he answered softly, "But there is nothing to forgive." + + +THE END + + +By Ethel M. Dell + +The Way of an Eagle +The Hundredth Chance +The Knave of Diamonds +The Safety Curtain +The Rocks of Valpré +Greatheart +The Swindler +The Lamp in the Desert +The Keeper of the Door +The Tidal Wave +Bars of Iron +The Top of the World +Rosa Mundi +The Odds and Other Stories +The Obstacle Race +Charles Rex + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13547 *** 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..fd36398 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13547 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13547) diff --git a/old/13547-8.txt b/old/13547-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7119c7d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13547-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19294 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Rocks of Valpre, 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 Rocks of Valpre + +Author: Ethel May Dell + +Release Date: September 27, 2004 [eBook #13547] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROCKS OF VALPRE*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects, +Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE ROCKS OF VALPRÉ + +by + +ETHEL M. DELL + +Author of "The Way of an Eagle," "The Knave of Diamonds," etc. + +1913 + + + + + + + +I Dedicate This Book To MY MOTHER + +AS A VERY SMALL TOKEN OF THAT LOVE WHICH NO WORDS CAN EXPRESS + + "Love is indestructible: +Its holy flame for ever burneth, +From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth; + Too oft on Earth a troubled guest, + At times deceived, at times opprest, + It here is tried and purified, + Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest: +It soweth here with toil and care, +Bat the harvest-time of Love is there." + +_The Curse of Kehama_--Robert Southey. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + +PROLOGUE + + I. THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE + II. DESTINY + III. A ROPE OF SAND + IV. THE DIVINE MAGIC + V. THE BIRTHDAY TREAT + VI. THE SPELL + VII. IN THE CAUSE OF A WOMAN +VIII. THE ENGLISHMAN + + +PART I + + I. THE PRECIPICE + II. THE CONQUEST + III. THE WARNING + IV. DOUBTS + V. DE PROFUNDIS + VI. ENGAGED + VII. THE SECOND WARNING +VIII. THE COMPACT + IX. A CONFESSION + X. A SURPRISE VISIT + XI. THE EXPLANATION + XII. THE BIRTHDAY PARTY +XIII. PALS + XIV. A REVELATION + XV. MISGIVINGS + XVI. MARRIED + + +PART II + + I. SUMMER WEATHER + II. ONE OF THE FAMILY + III. DISASTER + IV. GOOD-BYE TO CHILDHOOD + V. THE LOOKER-ON + VI. A BARGAIN + VII. THE ENEMY +VIII. THE THIN END + IX. THE ENEMY MOVES + X. A WARNING VOICE + XI. A BROKEN REED + XII. A MAN OF HONOUR +XIII. WOMANHOOD + + +PART III + + I. WAR + II. FIREWORKS + III. THE TURN OF THE TIDE + IV. "MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" + V. A DESPERATE REMEDY + VI. WHEN LOVE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE + VII. THE WAY OF THE WYNDHAMS +VIII. THE TRUTH + + +PART IV + + I. THE REFUGEE + II. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR + III. A FRUITLESS ERRAND + IV. THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART + V. THE STRANGER + VI. MAN TO MAN + VII. THE MESSENGER +VIII. ARREST + IX. VALPRÉ AGAIN + X. THE INDESTRUCTIBLE + XI. THE END OF THE VOYAGE + XII. THE PROCESSION UNDER THE WINDOWS + + + + + +PROLOGUE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE + + +When Cinders began to dig a hole no power on earth, except brute force, +could ever stop him till he sank exhausted. Not even the sight of a crab +could divert his thoughts from this entrancing occupation, much less his +mistress's shrill whistle; and this was strange, for on all other +occasions it was his custom to display the most exemplary obedience. + +Of a cheerful disposition was Cinders, deeply interested in all things +living, despising nothing however trivial, constantly seeking, and very +often finding, treasures of supreme value in his own estimation. It was +probably this passion for investigation that induced him to dig with such +energy and perseverance, but he was not an interesting companion when the +digging mood was upon him. It was, in fact, advisable to keep at a +distance, for he created a miniature sand-storm in his immediate vicinity +that spoiled the amusement of all except himself and successfully checked +all intrusive sympathy. + +"It really is too bad of him," said Chris, as she sat on a rock at twelve +yards' distance and dried her feet in melancholy preoccupation. "It's the +third day running, and I'm so tired of having nobody to talk to and +nothing to do--not even a crab-hunt." + +There was some pleasure to be extracted from crab-hunting under Cinders' +ardent leadership, but alone it held no fascinations. It really was just +a little selfish of Cinders. + +She glanced towards him, and saw that the sand-storm had temporarily +abated. He was working away the heap that had collected beneath him in +preparation for more extensive operations. + +"Cinders!" she called, in the forlorn hope of attracting his attention. +"Cinders!" Then, with a sudden spurt of animation, "Cinders darling, just +come and see what I've found!" + +But Cinders was not so easily deceived. He stood a moment with his stubby +little body tensely poised, then plunged afresh with feverish eagerness +to his task. + +The sand-storm recommenced, and Chris turned with a sigh to contemplate +the blue horizon. A large steamer was travelling slowly across it. She +watched it enviously. + +"Lucky people!" she said. "Lucky, lucky people!" + +The wind caught her red-brown hair and blew it out like a cloak behind +her. It was still damp, for she had been bathing, and when the wind had +passed it settled again in long, gleaming ripples upon her shoulders. She +pushed it away from her face with an impatient hand. + +"Cinders," she said, "if you don't come soon I shall go and find the +Knight of the Magic Cave all by myself." + +But even this threat did not move the enthusiastic Cinders. All that +could be seen of him was a pair of sturdy hind-legs firmly planted amid a +whirl of sand. Quite plainly it was nothing to him what steps his young +mistress might see fit to take to relieve her boredom. + +"All right!" said Chris, springing to her feet with a flourish of her +towel. "Then good-bye!" + +She shook the hair back from her face, slipped her bare feet into +sandals, slung the towel across her shoulders, and turned her face to the +cliffs. + +They frowned above the rock-strewn beach to a height of two hundred feet, +tunnelled here and there by the sea, scored here and there by springs, +rising mass upon mass, in some places almost perpendicular, in others +overhanging. + +They possessed an immense fascination for Chris Wyndham, these cliffs. +There was a species of dreadful romance about them that attracted even +while it awed her. She longed to explore them, and yet deep in the most +private recesses of her soul she was half-afraid. So many terrible +stories were told of this particular corner of the rocky coast. So many +ships were wrecked, so many lives were lost, so many hopes were quenched +forever between the cliffs and the sea. + +But these facts did not prevent her weaving romances about those +wonderful caves. For instance, there was the Magic Cave, for which she +was bound now, the entrance to which was only accessible at low tide. +There was something particularly imposing about this entrance, something +palatial, that stirred the girl's quick fancy. She had never before quite +reached it on account of the difficulty of the approach; but she had +promised herself that she would do so sooner or later, when time and tide +should permit. + +Both chanced to be favourable on this particular afternoon, and she set +forth light-footed upon the adventure, leaving Cinders to his monotonous +but all-engrossing pastime. A wide line of rocks stretched between her +and her goal, which was dimly discernible in the deep shadow of the +cliff--a mysterious opening that had the appearance of a low Gothic +archway. + +"I'm sure it's haunted," said Chris, and fell forthwith to dreaming as +she stepped along the sunlit sand. + +Of course she would find an enchanted hall, peopled by crabs that were +not crabs at all, but the afore-mentioned knight and his retinue, all +bound by the same wicked spell. "And I shall have to find out what it is +and set him free," said Chris, with a sigh of pleasurable anticipation. +"And then, I suppose, he will begin to jabber French, and I shall wish to +goodness I hadn't. I expect he will want to marry me, poor thing! And I +shall have to explain--in French, ugh!--that as he is only a foreigner I +couldn't possibly, under any circumstances, entertain such a preposterous +notion for a single instant. No, I am afraid that would sound rather +rude. How else could I put it?" + +Chris's brow wrinkled over the problem. She had reached the outlying +rocks of the belt she had to cross, and was picking her way between the +pools in deep abstraction. + +"I wonder!" she murmured to herself. "I wonder!" + +Then suddenly her rapt expression broke into a merry smile. "I know! +Of course! Absurdly easy! I shall tell him that I am under a spell +too--bound beyond all chance of escape to marry an Englishman." The sweet +face dimpled over the inspiration. "That ought to settle him, unless he +is very persevering; in which case of course I should have to tell +him--quite kindly--that I really didn't think I could. Fancy marrying a +crab--and a French crab too!" + +She began to laugh, gaily, irrepressibly, light-heartedly, and skipped on +to the first weed-covered rock that obstructed her path. It was an +exceedingly slippery perch. She poised herself with arms outspread, with +a butterfly grace as airy as her visions. + +Away in the distance Cinders, nearing exhaustion, leaned on one elbow and +scratched spasmodically with his free paw. + +"Good-bye, Cinders!" she called to him in her high young voice. "I'm +never coming back any more." + +Lightly she waved her hand and sprang for another rock. But her feet +slipped on the seaweed, and she splashed down into a pool ankle-deep. + +"Bother!" she said, with vehemence. "It's these silly sandals. I'll leave +them here till I come back." + +She scrambled out again and pulled them off. "If I really don't come back +I shan't want them," she reflected, with her merry little smile. + +She arranged sandals and towel on the flat surface of a rock and pursued +her pilgrimage unhampered. + +She certainly managed better without the sandals, but even as it was she +slipped and slid a good deal on the treacherous seaweed. It took her +considerably longer than she had anticipated to cross that belt of rocks. +It was much farther than it looked. Moreover, the pools were so full of +interest that she had to stop and investigate them as she went. Anemones, +green and red, clung to the shining rocks, and crabs of all sizes +scuttled away at her approach. + +"What a lot of retainers he must have!" said Chris. + +She was nearing the Gothic archway, and her heart began to beat fast in +anticipation. What she really expected to find she could not have said. +But undoubtedly this particular cave was many degrees more mysterious and +more eerie than any other she had ever explored. It was very lonely, and +the cliff that frowned above her was very black. The afternoon sun shone +genially upon all things, however, and this gave her courage. + +The waves foamed among the rocks but a few yards from the jutting +headland. Already the tide was turning. That meant that her time was +short. + +"I won't go beyond the entrance to-day," said Chris. "But to-morrow I'll +start earlier and go right in. P'raps Cinders will come too. It wouldn't +be so lonely with Cinders." + +The rocks all about her lay scattered like gigantic ruins. She stood +upon a high boulder and peered around her. There was certainly something +awe-inspiring about the place, the bright sun notwithstanding. It seemed +to lie beneath a spell. She wondered if she would come across any bits of +wreckage, and suppressed a shudder. The Gothic archway looked very dark +and vault-like from where she stood. Should she, after all, go any +nearer? Should she wait till Cinders would deign to accompany her? The +tide was undoubtedly rising. In any case she would have to turn back +within the next few minutes. + +Slowly she pivoted round and looked again from the smiling horizon +whereon no ship was visible to the Magic Cave that yawned in the +face of the cliff. The next instant she jumped so violently that +she missed her footing and fell from her perch in sheer amazement. +Something--someone--was moving just within the deep shadow where the +sunlight could not penetrate! + +It was not a big drop, but she came to earth with a cry of pain among a +mass of fallen stones, whereon she subsided, tightly clasping one foot +between her hands. She had stumbled upon wreckage to her cost; a piece of +rusty iron at her side and the blood that ran out between her locked +fingers testified to that. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she wailed, rocking herself, and then glanced +nervously over her shoulder, remembering the mysterious cause of the +disaster. + +The next moment swiftly she released the injured foot and sprang up. A +man, attired in white linen, had emerged from the Magic Cave. + +He stood a second looking at her, then came bounding towards her over the +rocks. + +Chris shrank back against her boulder. She was feeling dizzy and rather +sick, and the apparition frightened her. + +As he drew near she waved a desperate hand to stay his approach. "Oh, +please go away!" she cried in English. "I--I don't want any help. I'm +only looking for crabs." + +He paid no attention whatever to her gesture or to her words. Only, +reaching her, he bowed very low, beginning with some formality, "_Mais, +mademoiselle; permettez-moi, je vous prie_," and ending in tones of quick +compassion, "_Ah, pauvre petite! Pauvre petite_!" + +Before she knew his intention he was on his knees before her, and had +taken the cut foot very gently into his hands. + +Chris leaned back, clinging to the boulder. The sunlight danced giddily +in her eyes. She felt as if she were slipping over the edge of the world. + +"I can't--stand," she faltered weakly. + +"No, no, _petite_! But naturally!" came the reassuring reply. "Be seated, +I beg. Permit me to assist you!" + +Chris, being quite incapable of doing otherwise, yielded herself to +the gentle insistence of an arm that encircled her. She had an +impression--fleeting at the time but returning to her later--of friendly +dark eyes that looked for an instant into hers; and then, exactly how it +happened she knew not, she was sitting propped against the rock, while +all the world swam dizzily around her, and someone with sure, steady +hands wound a bandage tightly and ever more tightly around her wounded +foot. + +"It hurts!" she murmured piteously. + +"Have patience, mademoiselle! It will be better in a moment," came the +quick reply. "I shall not hurt you more than is necessary. It is to +arrest the bleeding, this. Mademoiselle will endure the pain like a brave +child, yes?" + +Chris swallowed a little shudder. The dizziness was passing. She was +beginning to see more clearly, and her gaze travelled with dawning +criticism over the neat white figure that ministered so confidently to +her need. + +"I knew he'd be French," she whispered half aloud. + +"But I speak English, mademoiselle," he returned, without raising his +black head, + +"Yes," she said, with a sigh of relief. "I'm very glad of that. Must you +pull it any tighter? I--I can bear it, of course, but I'd much rather you +didn't if--if you don't mind." + +She spoke gaspingly. Her eyes were full of tears, though she kept them +resolutely from falling. + +"Poor little one!" he said. "But you are very brave. Once more--so--and +we will not do it again. The pain is not so bad now, no?" + +He looked up at her with a smile so kindly that Chris nearly broke down +altogether. She made a desperate grab after her self-control, and by dint +of biting her lower lip very hard just saved herself from this calamity. + +It was a very pleasing face that looked into her own, olive-hued, with +brows as delicate as a woman's. A thin line of black moustache outlined a +mouth that was something over-sensitive. He was certainly quite a +captivating fairy prince. + +Chris shook the thick hair back upon her shoulders and surveyed him with +interest. "It's getting better," she said. "It was a horrid cut, wasn't +it? You don't know how it hurt." + +"But I can imagine it," he declared. "I saw immediately that it was +serious. Mademoiselle cannot attempt to walk." + +"Oh, but I must indeed!" protested Chris in dismay. "I shall be drowned +if I stay here." + +He shook his head. "Ah no, no! You shall not stay here. If you will +accept my assistance, all will be well." + +"But you can't--carry me!" gasped Chris. + +He rose to his feet, still smiling. "And why not, little one? Because you +think that I have not the strength?" + +Chris looked up at him speculatively. She felt no shyness; he was not the +sort of person with whom she could feel shy. He was too kindly, too +protecting, too altogether charming, for that. But he was of slender +build, and she could not help entertaining a very decided doubt as to his +physical powers. + +"I am much heavier--and much older--than you think," she remarked at +length. + +He laughed boyishly, as if she had made a joke. "_Mais c'est drôle, +cela_! Me, I have no thoughts upon the subject, mademoiselle. I believe +what I see, and I assure you that I am well capable of carrying you +across the rocks to Valpré. You lodge at Valpré?" + +Chris nodded. "And you? No," hastily checking herself, "don't tell me! +You live in the Magic Cave, of course. I knew you were there. It was why +I came." + +"You knew, mademoiselle?" His eyes interrogated her. + +She nodded again in answer. "You have lived there for hundreds of years. +You were under a spell, and I came and broke it. If I hadn't cut my foot, +you would have been there still. Do you really think you can lift me? And +what shall you do when you come to cross the rocks? They are much too +slippery to walk on." + +He stooped to raise her, still smiling. "Have no fear, mademoiselle! I +know these rocks by heart." + +She laughed with a child's pure merriment. "Oh, I am not afraid, _preux +chevalier_. But if you find me too heavy--" + +"If I cannot carry the queen of the fairies," he interrupted, "I am not +worthy of the name." + +He had her in his arms with the words, holding her lightly and easily, as +if she had been an infant. His eyes smiled reassuringly into hers. + +"So, mademoiselle! We depart for Valpré!" + +"What fun!" said Chris. + +It seemed she was to enjoy her adventure after all, adverse circumstances +notwithstanding. Her foot throbbed and burned, but she put this fact +resolutely away from her. She had found the knight, and, albeit he was +French, she was very pleased with him. He was the prettiest toy that had +ever yet come her way. + +Possibly in this respect the knight's sentiments resembled hers. For she +was very enchanting, this English girl, fresh as a rose and gay as a +butterfly, with a face that none called beautiful but which most paused +to admire. It was the vividness, the entrancing vitality of her, that +caught the attention. People smiled almost unwittingly when little Chris +Wyndham turned her laughing eyes their way; they were so clear, so blue, +so confidingly merry. There was a rare sweetness about her, a spontaneous +charm irresistibly winning. She loved everybody without effort, as +naturally as she loved life, with an absence of self-consciousness so +entire that perhaps it was not surprising that she was loved in return. + +"You are much stronger than you look, _preux chevalier_," she remarked +presently. "But wouldn't you like to set me down while you go and fetch +my sandals? They are over there on the rocks. It would be a pity for them +to get washed away, and I might manage to walk with them on." + +He had brought her safely over the most difficult part of the way. He +seated her at once upon a flat rock, and stooped to assure himself as to +the success of his bandage. + +"It gives you not so much of pain, no?" he asked. + +"It scarcely hurts at all," she assured him. "You will be quick now, +won't you, because I ought to be getting back. If you see Cinders, you +might bring him too." + +"Cinders?" he questioned, pausing. + +"My dog," she explained. "But he doesn't talk French, so I don't suppose +he will follow you." + +He received the information with a smile. "But I speak English, +mademoiselle," he protested for the second time. + +"Ah yes, you do--after a fashion," admitted Chris. "But I don't suppose +Cinders would understand it. It's not very English English." + +He raised his shoulders in a gesture that was purely French. "_La belle +dame sans merci_!" he murmured ruefully. "_Bien_! I will do my possible." + +"Splendid!" laughed Chris. "No one could do more." + +She watched him go with eyes that sparkled with merriment. The trim, +slight figure was quite good to look upon. He went bounding over the +rocks with the sure-footed grace of a chamois. + +"I wonder who he really is," said Chris, "and where he comes from." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +DESTINY + + +Over the rocks went the stranger with the careless speed of youth, +humming to himself in a soft tenor, his brown face turned to the sun. The +pleasant smile was still upon it. He had the look of one in whose eyes +all things are good. + +Ahead of him gleamed the towel with the sandals upon it, sandals that +might have been fashioned for fairy feet. He quickened his pace at sight +of them. But she was charming, this English child! He had never before +seen anyone quite so dainty. And of a courage unique in one so young! + +He was nearing the sandals now, but the sun was in his eyes, and he saw +only the towel spread like a tablecloth over the rock. He sprang lightly +down on to a heap of shingle, and reached for it, still humming the +_chanson_ that the little English girl had somehow put into his head. + +The next instant a deep growl arrested him, and sharply he drew back. +There was something more than a pair of sandals on the towel above him, +something that crouched in an attitude of tense hostility, daring him to +approach. It was only a small creature that thus challenged him, only a +weird black terrier of doubtful extraction, but he bristled from end to +end with animosity. Quite plainly he regarded the sandals as his +responsibility. With glaring eyes and gleaming teeth he crouched, +prepared to defend them. + +The young Frenchman's discomfiture was but momentary. In an instant he +had taken in the situation and the humour of it. + +"But it is the good Cinders!" he said aloud, and extended a fearless +hand. "So, my friend, so! The little mistress waits." + +Cinders' growl became a snarl. He sucked up his breath in furious +protest, threatening murder. But the stranger's hand was not withdrawn. +On the contrary it advanced upon him with the utmost deliberation till +Cinders was compelled to jerk backwards to avoid it. + +So jerking, he missed his footing as his mistress had before him, lost +his balance, and rolled, cursing, clinging, and clambering, over the edge +of the rock. + +Had the Frenchman laughed at that moment he would have made an enemy for +life. But most fortunately he did not regard an antagonist's downfall as +a fit subject for mirth. In fact, being of a chivalrous turn, he grabbed +at the luckless Cinders, clutched his collar, and dragged him up again. +And--perhaps it was the generosity of the action, perhaps only its +obvious fearlessness--he won Cinders' heart from that instant. His +hostility merged into sudden ardent friendship. He set his paws on the +young man's chest, and licked his face. + +Thenceforth he was more than welcome to sandals and towel and even the +effusive Cinders himself, who leaped around him barking in high delight, +and accompanied him with giddy circlings upon his return journey. + +Chris, who had viewed the encounter from afar with much interest, clapped +her hands at their approach. + +"And you weren't a bit afraid!" she laughed. "I couldn't think what you +would do. Cinders looked so fierce. But any one can see you understand +dogs--even English dogs." + +"It is possible that at heart the English and the French resemble each +other more than we think, mademoiselle," observed the Frenchman. "One can +never tell." + +He bent again over the injured foot with the sandal in his hand. + +"It's very good of you to take all this trouble," said Chris abruptly. + +He flashed her a quick smile. "But no, mademoiselle! It gives me pleasure +to be of service to you." + +"I'm sure I don't know what I should have done without you," she +rejoined. "Ah, that is much better. I shall be able to walk now." + +"You think it?" He looked at her doubtfully. + +She nodded. "If you will take me as far as the sand, I shall do +splendidly then. You see, I can't let you come into Valpré with me +because--because--" + +"Because, mademoiselle--?" Up went the black brows questioningly. + +She flushed a little, but her clear eyes met his with absolute candour. +"We have a French governess," she explained, "who was brought up in a +convent, so she is very easily shocked. If she knew that I had spoken to +a stranger, and a man"--she raised her hands with a merry gesture--"she +would have a fit--several fits. I couldn't risk it. Poor mademoiselle! +She doesn't understand our English ways a bit. Why, she wouldn't even let +me paddle if she could help it. I shall have to keep very quiet about +this foot of mine, or it will be '_Jamais encore_!' and '_Encore +jamais_!' for the rest of my natural life. And, after all," pathetically, +"there can be no great harm in dipping one's feet in sea-water, can +there?" + +But the Frenchman looked grave. "You will show your foot to the doctor, +will you not?" he said. + +"Dear me, no!" said Chris. + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +She checked him with her quick, winning smile. + +"Please don't talk French. I like English so much the best. Besides, it's +holiday-time." + +"But, mademoiselle," he persisted, "if it should become serious!" + +"Oh, it won't," she said lightly. "I shall be all right. Nothing ever +happens to me." + +"Nothing?" he questioned, with an answering smile. + +She was hobbling over the stones with his assistance. "Nothing +interesting, I assure you," she said. + +"Except when mademoiselle goes to the cavern of the fairies to look for +the magic knight?" he suggested. + +She threw him a merry glance. "To be sure! I will come and see you again +some day when the tide is low. Is there a dragon in the cave?" + +"He is there only when the tide is high, mademoiselle, a beast enormous +with eyes of fire." + +"And a princess?" asked the English girl, keenly interested. + +"No, there is no princess." + +"Only you and the dragon?" + +"Generally only me, mademoiselle." + +"Whatever do you do there?" she asked curiously. + +His smile was bafflingly direct. "Me? I make magic, mademoiselle." + +"What sort of magic?" + +"What sort? That is a difficult question." + +"May I come and see it?" asked Chris eagerly, scenting a mystery. + +He hesitated. + +"I'll come all by myself," she assured him. + +"_Mais la gouvernante_--" + +"As if I should bring her! No, no! I'll come alone--with Cinders." + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +"If you say that again I shall be cross," announced Chris. + +"But--pardon me, mademoiselle--the governess, might she not object?" + +"Absurd!" said Chris. "I am not a French girl, and I won't behave like +one." + +He laughed at that, plainly because he could not help it. "Mademoiselle +pleases herself!" he observed. + +"Of course I do," returned Chris vigorously. "I always have. I may come +then?" + +"But certainly." + +"When?" + +"When you will, mademoiselle." + +Chris considered. They had reached the firm sand, and she stood still. "I +can't come to-morrow because of my foot, and the day after the tide will +be too late. I shall have to wait nearly a fortnight. How dull!" + +"In a fortnight, then!" said the Frenchman. + +"In a fortnight, _preux chevalier_!" Her eyes laughed up at him. "But I +dare say we shall meet before then. I hope we shall." + +"I hope it also, mademoiselle." He bowed courteously. + +She held out her hand. "I shall come on the tenth of the month--it's my +birthday. I'll bring some cakes, and we'll have a party, and invite the +dragon." Her eyes danced. "We will have some fun, shall we?" + +"I think that we shall not want the dragon," he smiled back. + +"No? Perhaps not. Well, I'll bring Cinders instead." + +"Ah, the good Cinders! He is different." + +"And we will go exploring," she said eagerly. "I shan't be a bit afraid +of anything with you there. The tenth, then! Don't forget! Good-bye, and +thank you ever so much! You won't fail me, will you?" + +He bent low over the impetuous little hand. "I shall not fail you, +mademoiselle. _Adieu_!" + +"_Au revoir_!" she laughed back. "Come along, Cinders! We shall be late +for tea." + +He stood motionless on the sunlit sand and watched her go. + +She was limping, but she moved quickly notwithstanding. Cinders trotted +soberly by her side. + +As she reached the little _plage_, she turned as if aware of his watching +eyes and nonchalantly waved the towel that dangled on her arm. The +sunlight had turned her hair to burnished copper. It made her for the +moment wonderful, and a gleam of swift admiration shot across the +Frenchman's face. + +"_Merveilleux_!" he whispered to himself, and half-aloud, "Good-bye, +little bird of Paradise!" + +With a courteous gesture of farewell, he turned away. When he looked +again, the child, with her glorious, radiant hair, had passed from sight. + +He went back, springing over the rocks, to the Gothic archway that had +fired her curiosity. The tide was rising fast. Already the white foam +raced up to the rocky entrance. He splashed through it, and went within +as one on business bent. + +He was absent for some seconds, and soon a large wave broke with a long +roar and rushed swirling into the cave. As the gleaming water ran out +again, he emerged. + +A single glance was sufficient to show him that retreat by way of the +beach was already cut off. He recognized the fact with a rueful grimace. +The long green waves tumbling along the rocks were rising higher every +instant. + +With a quick glance around him, the young man sprang for an upstanding +rock, reached it in safety, and paused, keenly studying the black face of +the cliff. + +It frowned above him like a rampart, gloomy, terrible, impregnable. He +shrugged his shoulders with another grimace, then, as the foam splashed +up over his feet, leaped lightly onto another rock higher than the first, +whence it was possible to reach a great buttress that jutted outwards +from the cliff itself. + +Once upon this, he began to climb diagonally, clambering like a monkey, +availing himself of every inch that offered foothold. A slip would have +meant instant disaster, but this fact did not apparently occur to him, or +if it did he was not dismayed thereby. He even presently, as he +cautiously worked his way upwards, began to hum again in gay snatches the +song that a child's clear eyes had set running in his brain that +afternoon. + +It was a progress that waxed more perilous as he proceeded. The waves +dashed themselves to cataracts below him. Return was impossible, and many +would have deemed advance equally so. But he struggled on, maintaining +his zigzag course upwards, with nerve unfailing and spirits unimpaired. + +Gulls flew out above his head and circled about him with indignant +protests. He looked somewhat like a gigantic gull himself, his slim white +figure outlined against the darkness of the cliff. He cried back to the +startled birds reassuringly in their own language, but the commotion +continued; and presently, finding precarious foothold on a narrow ledge +halfway up, he stopped to wipe his forehead and laugh with merriment +unfeigned. He was plainly in love with life--one in whose eyes all things +were good, but yet who loved the hazard of them even better. + +The ledge did not permit of much comfort. Nevertheless he managed to +turn upon it and to lean back against the cliff, with his brown face to +sky and sea. He even, after a moment, took out a cigarette and lighted +it. The sun shone full in his eyes, and he seemed to revel in it. A +sun-worshipper also, apparently! + +He smoked his cigarette to the end very deliberately, flicking the +ash from time to time towards the raging water below. When he had +quite finished, he stretched his arms wide with a gesture of sublime +self-confidence, faced about, and very composedly continued his climb. + +It grew more and more arduous as he neared the frowning summit. He had to +feel his way with the utmost caution. Once he missed his footing, and +slipped several feet before he could recover himself, and after this +experience he took a clasp-knife from his pocket and notched himself +footholds where none offered. It was a very lengthy business, and the sun +was dipping downwards to the sea ere he came within reach of his goal. +The top of the cliff overhung where he first approached it, and he had to +work a devious course below it till he came to a more favourable place. + +Reaching a gap at length, he braced himself for the final effort. The +surface of the cliff here was loose, and the stones rattled continually +from beneath his feet; but he clung like a limpet, nothing daunted, and +at last his hands were gripped in the coarse grass that fringed the +summit. Sheer depth was below him, and the inward-curving cliff offered +no possibility of foothold. + +He stood, gathering his strength for a last stupendous effort. It was a +supreme moment. It meant abandoning the support on which he stood and +depending entirely upon the strength of his arms to attain to safety. The +risk was desperate. He stood bracing himself to take it. + +Finally, with an upward fling of the head, as of one who diced with the +gods, he gripped that perilous edge and dared the final throw. Slowly, +with stupendous effort, he hoisted himself up. It was the work of an +expert athlete; none other would have attempted it. + +Up he went and up, steadily, strongly; his head came level with his +hands; he peered over the edge of the cliff. The strain was terrific. The +careless smile was gone from his lips. In that instant he no longer +ignored what lay behind him; he knew the suspense of the gambler who +pauses after he has thrown before he lifts the dice-box to read his fate. + +Up, and still up! The grass was beginning to yield in his clutching +fingers; he dug them into the earth below. Now his shoulders were above +the edge; his chest also, heaving with strenuous effort. To lower himself +again was impossible. His feet dangled over space. And the surging of the +water below him was as the roaring of an angry monster cheated of its +prey. + +He set his teeth. He was nearing the end of his strength. Had he, after +all, attempted the impossible, flung the dice too recklessly, dared his +fate too far? If so, he would pay the penalty swiftly, swiftly, down +among the cruel rocks where many another had perished before him. + +The surging sounded louder. It seemed to be in his brain. It bewildered +him, deprived him of the power to think. A great many voices seemed to +clamour around him, but only one could be clearly heard; only one, and +that the voice of a child close to him--or was that also an illusion born +of the racking strain that had driven all the blood to his head? + +"You won't fail me, will you?" it said. + +Surely his grasp was slackening, his powers were passing, when like a +flashlight those words illuminated his brain. He was as one in deep +waters, swamped and sinking; but that voice called him back. + +He opened his eyes, he drew a great breath. He flung his whole soul into +one last great effort. He remembered suddenly that the little English +girl, the child with the glorious hair and laughing eyes, his +acquaintance of an hour, would be looking for him exactly two weeks from +that moment. He was sure she would look, and--she would be disappointed +if she looked in vain. One must not disappoint a child. + +The memory of her went through him, vivid, enchanting, compelling. It +nerved his sinking heart. It renewed his grip on life. It urged him +upwards. + +Only a child! Only a child! But yet-- + +"I shall not--shall not--fail you!" he gasped, and with the words his +knees reached the top of the cliff. + +His strength collapsed instantly, like the snapping of a fiddle-string. +He fell forward on his face, and lay prone... + +A little later he worked the whole of his body into security, rolled over +on his back with closed eyes to the sky, and waited while his heart +slowed down to its normal rhythmic beat. + +At last, quite suddenly, he sat up and looked around him. The laughter +flashed back into his eyes. He sprang to his feet, mud-stained, +dishevelled, yet exultant. + +He clicked his heels together and faced the sinking sun, slim and +upright, one stiff hand to his head. He had diced with the gods, and he +had won. + +"_Destinée! Je te salue!_" he said, and the next instant whizzed smartly +round with a soldier's precision of movement and marched away towards the +fortress that crowned the hill above the rocks of Valpré. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A ROPE OF SAND + + +Undoubtedly Mademoiselle Gautier was querulous, and equally without doubt +she had good reason to be so; but it made it a little dull for Chris. +Accidents would happen, wherever one went, and what was the good of +making a fuss? + +Of course, every allowance had to be made for poor Mademoiselle in +consideration of the fact that she was torn in pieces by the valiant +attempt to keep her attention focussed upon three children at once. The +effort had not so far been a brilliant success, and Mademoiselle, +conscious within herself of her inability to cope adequately with her +threefold responsibility, being moreover worn out by her gallant struggle +to do so, was inclined to shortness of temper and a severity of judgment +that bordered upon injustice. + +If Chris would persist in flying about the shore in that wild fashion +with her hair loose--that flaming hair which Mademoiselle considered in +itself to be almost indecent--what could be expected but that some +_contretemps_ must of necessity arrive? It was useless for Chris to +protest that it was not her hair that had got her into difficulties, that +she had only left it loose to dry it after her bathe, that there had been +no one to see--at least, no one that mattered--and that the cut on her +foot was solely due to the fact that she had taken off her sand-shoes to +climb over the rocks. Mademoiselle only shook her head with pursed lips. +Chris _était méchante--très méchante_, and no amount of arguing would +make her change her opinion upon that point. + +So Chris abandoned argument while the worried little Frenchwoman bathed +and bandaged her foot anew. She would not be able to bathe again for at +least a week, and this fact was of itself sufficient to depress her into +silence. Yet, after a little, when Mademoiselle was gone, a cheery little +tune rose to her lips. It was not her nature to be depressed for long. + +Mademoiselle Gautier would have been something less than human if she had +not yielded now and then under the perpetual strain in which, for many +days past, she had lived. She had come to Valpré in charge of Chris and +her two young brothers, both of whom had developed diphtheria within a +day or two of their arrival. The children's father was absent in India; +his only sister, upon whom the cares of his family were supposed to rest, +was entertaining Royalty, and was far too important a personage in the +social world to be spared at short notice. And so the whole burden had +devolved upon poor Mademoiselle Gautier, who had been near her wits' end +with anxiety, but had nobly grappled with her task. + +The worst of the business, speaking in a physical sense, was now over. +Both her patients--Maxwell, who was Chris's twin, and little Noel, the +youngest of the family, aged twelve--had turned the corner and were +progressing towards convalescence. Over the latter she still had qualms +of uneasiness, but the elder boy was rapidly picking up his strength and +giving more trouble than he had ever given before in the process. + +By inexorable decree Chris was kept away from the two over whom +Mademoiselle, aided by a convent nurse, still watched with unremitting +care; and it did seem a little hard in the opinion of the harassed +Frenchwoman that her one sound charge could not be trusted to conduct +herself with circumspection during her days of enforced solitude. Chris +Wyndham, however, had been a tomboy all her life, and she could scarcely +be expected to reform at such a juncture. She was not accustomed to +solitude, and her restless spirit chafed after distraction. + +The conventions had never troubled her. Brought up as she had been with +three unruly boys, running wild with them during the whole of her +childhood, it was scarcely to be wondered at if her outlook on life was +more that of a boy than a girl. She had been in Mademoiselle Gautier's +charge during the past three years, but somehow that had not sobered her +very materially. She was spoilt by all except her aunt, who was wont to +remark with some acidity that if she didn't come to grief one way or +another, this would probably continue to be the case for the term of her +natural life. But it was quite plain that Aunt Philippa expected her to +come to grief. Girls like Chris, unless they married out of the +schoolroom, usually played with fire until they burnt their fingers. The +fact of the matter was Chris was far too attractive, and though as yet +sublimely unconscious of the fact, Aunt Philippa knew that sooner or +later it was bound to dawn upon her. She did not relish the prospect of +steering this giddy little barque through the shoals and quicksands of +society, being shrewdly suspicious that the task might well prove too +much for her. For with all her sweetness, Chris was undeniably wilful, a +princess who expected to have her own way; and Aunt Philippa had a +daughter of her own, Chris's senior by three years, as well as a son in +the Guards, to consider. + +No, she did not approve of Chris, or indeed of any of the family, +including her own brother, who was its head. She had not approved of his +gay young wife, Irish and volatile, who had died at the birth of little +Noel. She doubted the stability of each one of them in turn, and plainly +told her brother that he must attend to the launching of his children for +himself. She was willing to do her best for them as children, but as +grown-ups she declined the responsibility. + +His answer to this had been that they must remain children until he could +spare the time to attend to them. The eldest boy, Rupert, was now at +Sandhurst, Maxwell was being educated at Marlborough, and Noel, who was +never very strong, was at present with Chris in Mademoiselle Gautier's +care. The summer holiday at Valpré had been Mademoiselle's suggestion, +and bitterly had she lived to regret it. + +Chris had regretted it, too, for a time, but now that her two brothers +were well on the road to recovery it seemed absurd not to extract such +enjoyment as she could from the situation. Of course, it was lonely, but +there was always Cinders to fall back upon for comfort. She was thankful +that she had insisted upon bringing him, though Mademoiselle had +protested most emphatically against this addition to the party. How she +was to get him back again she had not begun to consider. Doubtless, +however, Jack would manage it somehow. Jack was the aforementioned cousin +in the Guards, a young man of much kindness and resource, upon whom Chris +was wont to rely as a sort of superior elder brother. He would think +nothing of running over to fetch them home and to assist in the smuggling +of Cinders back into his native land. In fact, if the truth were told, he +would probably rather enjoy it. + +In the meantime, here was she, stranded with a damaged foot, and all the +delights of the sea temporarily denied to her. Perhaps not quite all, +when she came to think of it. She could not paddle, but she might manage +to hobble down to the shore, and sit on the sun-baked rocks. Even +Mademoiselle could surely find no fault with this. And she might possibly +find someone to talk to. She was so fond of talking, and it was a +perpetual regret to her that she could not understand the speech of the +Breton fishermen. + +It was on the morning of the second day after her accident that this idea +presented itself. All the previous day she had sat soberly in a corner of +the little garden that overlooked the little _plage_ where none but +_bonnes_ and their charges ever passed. Nothing had happened all day +long, and she had been bored almost to tears. The beaming smiles of +Mademoiselle, who was thankful to have her within sight, had been no sort +of consolation to her, and on the second day she came rapidly to the +conclusion that she would die of _ennui_ if she attempted to endure it +any longer. + +She did not arouse Mademoiselle's voluble protests by announcing her +decision. Mademoiselle was busy with the boys, and what was the good? She +was her own mistress, and felt in no way called upon to ask her +governess's leave. + +Her foot was much better. The nurse had strapped it for her, and, beyond +some slight stiffness in walking, it caused her no pain. Her hair was +tied discreetly back with a black ribbon. It ought to have been plaited, +but as Mademoiselle had no time to bestow upon it and Chris herself +couldn't be bothered, it hung in glory below the confining ribbon to her +waist. + +Whistling to Cinders, who was lying in the sunshine snapping at flies, +she rose from her chair in the shade, dropped the crochet with which +Mademoiselle had supplied her on the grass, and limped to the gate that +opened on to the _plage_. + +At this juncture a rhythmical, unmistakable sound made her pause. A quick +gleam of pleasure shone in her blue eyes. She turned her head eagerly. A +troop of soldiers were approaching along the _plage_. + +Sheer fun flashed into the girl's face. With a sudden swoop she caught up +the lazy Cinders. + +"Now you are not to say anything," she cautioned him. "Only when I tell +you, you are to salute. And mind you do it properly!" + +Cinders licked the animated face so near his own. When not drawn by his +one particular vice, he was always ready to enter into any little game +that his mistress might devise. He watched the oncoming soldiers with +interest, a slight frown between his brows. + +The soldiers were interested also. Chris of the merry eyes was not a +spectacle to pass unheeding. She smiled upon them--there were about forty +of them--with the simplicity of a child. + +Rhythmically the blue and red uniforms began to swing past. Their wearers +stared and grinned at the smiling little _Anglaise_ who was so naively +pleased to see them. + +She raised an imperious hand. "Cinders, salute!" And into Cinders' ear +she whispered, "They are only French, chappie, but you mustn't mind." + +And Cinders, quite unconcerned, obeyed his mistress's behest and lifted a +rigid paw to his head. + +A murmur of appreciation ran through the ranks. The grins widened. One +boy, with bold admiration for the _petite Anglaise_ in his black eyes, +raised his hand abruptly and saluted in return. Every man who followed +did likewise, and Chris was enchanted. Mademoiselle Gautier would have +been horrified had she seen her frank nods of acknowledgment, but +mercifully Fate spared her this. + +Behind the last line of marching men came a trim young officer. His sword +clanked at his heels. He swung along with a free swagger, head up, +shoulders back, eyes fixed straight before him. A gallant specimen was +he, for though of inconsiderable height, he was well made and obviously +of athletic build. His thoughts were evidently far away, his handsome, +boyish face so preoccupied that it had the look of a face in a picture, +patrician, aloof, immobile. + +But a sudden glimpse of the girl at the gate--the child with the shining +hair--brought him back in a fraction of time, transformed him utterly. +Recognition, vivid surprise, undoubted pleasure, flashed over his face. +With an eager smile, he paused, clicked his heels together, saluted. + +She extended an eager hand--her left; Cinders monopolized her right. + +"Oh," she exclaimed, "you! I didn't know you were a soldier!" + +He took the hand over the gate, stooped and kissed it. "But I am +delighted, mademoiselle!" he said. + +Cinders was also delighted, and struggled with yelps of welcome to reach +him. He stood up, laughing, and patted the little creature's head. + +"And the foot?" he questioned. + +"Much better," said Chris. "I am going down to the shore presently. I +wish you could come too." + +He smiled and shook his head, with a glance after his men retreating up +the hill towards the fort. "I wish it also, mademoiselle, but--" + +"Couldn't you?" begged Chris. "This afternoon! Just for a little while! +There's only Cinders and me." + +"_Et Mademoiselle la gouvernante--_" + +"She is looking after the boys, and they are ill," Chris explained +cheerfully. "You might come. I'm wanting someone to talk to rather +badly." + +The young officer hesitated. The blue eyes were very persuasive. + +"I would ask you to come in to tea afterwards," she said, "only +Mademoiselle is so silly--quite cracked, in fact, on some points. But +that needn't prevent your coming down to the shore for a little to play +with Cinders and me. You will, won't you? Say you will!" + +"I will, mademoiselle." His surrender was abrupt, and quite decisive. + +She beamed upon him. "We will play at sand-pictures. You know that game, +I expect. One draws and the other has to guess what it's meant for. I +shall look out for you, then. Good-bye!" + +She waved a careless hand, and he, still smiling, saluted again and +hastened after his men. + +She was certainly unconventional, this English girl, quite superbly so. +She was also sublimely and completely irresistible. + +Did she guess of the power that was hers as she turned back into the +little garden? Did some dim suggestion of a spell yet dormant present +itself as she stood thus on the threshold of her woman's kingdom? +Possibly, for her face was thoughtful, and remained so for quite ten +seconds after her new playmate's departure. + +At the end of the ten seconds she kissed Cinders, with the remark, +"Chappie, that little Frenchman is a trump. I'm sure Jack would think +so." She and Jack Forest generally saw things in the same light, which +may have been the reason that Chris valued his opinion so highly. + +She postponed her visit to the shore till the afternoon in consideration +of the fact that her sense of boredom had completely evaporated. After +all, what was there to be bored about? Life was quite interesting again. + +The tide was on the ebb when she finally set forth. She directed her +steps towards a little patch of firm sand which she regarded as +peculiarly her own. The shore was deserted as usual. The _bonnes_ +preferred the _plage_. + +Would he be there before her, she wondered? Yes; almost at once she spied +him in the distance. He had discarded his uniform, in favour of white +linen. She regretted his preference somewhat, but admitted to herself +that linen might be cooler. + +He was very busy with a swagger-cane, drawing in the sand, far too intent +to note her approach, and as he drew he hummed a madrigal in his soft +voice. + +Noiselessly Chris drew near, a dancing imp of mischief in her eyes. She +wanted to get a glimpse of the work of art that he was elaborating with +such care before he discovered her. But his sensibilities were too subtle +for her. Quite suddenly he became aware of her and whizzed round. + +He made her a low bow, but Chris waived the ceremony of greeting with +impatient curiosity. "I want to see what you are doing. I may look?" + +"But certainly, mademoiselle." + +She came eagerly forward and looked. + +"Oh," she said, "is that the dragon? What an awesome creature! Is he +really like that? How splendidly you have done his scales! And what +frightful claws! Why"--she turned upon him--"you are an artist!" + +He shrugged his shoulders, with his ready smile. "I am whatever +mademoiselle desires." + +"How nice!" said Chris. "Well, go on being an artist, please. Draw +something else!" + +"I think it is your turn now, mademoiselle," he said. + +"Oh, but I'm no good at it," she protested. "I can't compete. You are +much too clever." + +He laughed at that and began again. + +She seated herself on a rock and watched him, deeply interested. + +"How quick you are!" she murmured presently. "Whatever is it, I wonder? A +horse with a man on it! Ah, yes! St. George killing the dragon! +Excellent!" She clapped her hands. "It is a real picture. What a pity for +it to be washed away!" + +"The destiny of all things, mademoiselle," he remarked, still elaborating +his work. + +"Not all things!" she exclaimed. "Look at the Sphinx, and Cleopatra's +Needle, and--and a host of other things!" + +"You think that they will endure for ever?" he said. + +"For a very, very long while," she maintained. + +"But for ever, mademoiselle?" He turned round to her, quite serious for +once. "There is only one thing that endures for ever," he said. + +Chris frowned. "I don't want to think about it. It makes me feel giddy," +she said. "Please go on drawing. The tide won't be up yet." + +He turned back again instantly, looking quizzical. "_Alors_, shall we +build a barrier of stones and arrest the sea?" he suggested. + +"Or weave a rope of sand," amended Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DIVINE MAGIC + + +When Chris went bathing it was her custom to slip a mackintosh over her +bathing costume and to run down to the shore thus equipped, discarding +the mackintosh before entering the water and leaving it in the charge of +Cinders. + +Cinders never went treasure-hunting on these occasions, but invariably +sat bolt upright, brimful of importance, watching his mistress's +proceedings from afar with eager eyes and quivering nose. He would never +be persuaded to follow her, owing to a rooted objection to wetting his +feet. He was, as a rule, very patient; but if she kept him waiting beyond +the bounds of patience he howled in a heartrending fashion that always +brought her back. + +Chris was a good swimmer, and had a boy's healthy love of the sea. Great +was her joy when her injured foot healed sufficiently for her to resume +the morning bathe. Mademoiselle Gautier's pleasure was not so keen, but +then--poor Mademoiselle!--who could expect it? Besides, what could she +know of the exquisite enjoyment of floating on a summer sea with the +summer sun in one's eyes and wave after gentle wave rocking one to drowsy +content? + +The only drawback was the impossibility of diving, Chris longed for a +dive on that brilliant morning, longed for the headlong rush through +water, the greenness of it below the surface, the sparkling spray above. +If only she could have commandeered a boat! But that would have entailed +a boatman, and Mademoiselle would have been scandalized at the bare +suggestion. + +"She would make me bathe in a coat and skirt and a hat if she could," +reflected Chris, shaking the wet hair out of her eyes. + +It was still early, not nine o'clock. The sea lay calm and empty all +about her. Was she really the only person in Valpré, she wondered, who +cared for a morning dip? She had swum some way from the little town, and +now found herself nearing the point where the rocks jutted far out to the +sea. The Magic Cave was at no great distance. She saw the darkness of it +and the water foaming white against the cliffs. Even in the morning +light it was an awesome spot, and she remembered how her friend had told +her that the dragon was there when the tide was up. With a timidity +half-actual, half-assumed, she began to swim back to her starting-point. + +Half-way back, feeling tired, she allowed herself a rest in consideration +of the fact that this was the longest swim that she had ever undertaken. +Serenely she lay on the water with her hair floating about her. The +morning was perfect, the sea like a lake. Overhead sailed a gull with no +flap of wings. She wondered how he did it, and longed to do the same. It +must be very nice to be a gull. + +Regretfully at length--for she was still feeling a little weary--she +resumed her leisurely journey towards the shore. As she did so she caught +the sound of oars grating in rowlocks. She turned her head, saw a boat +cutting through the water at a prodigious rate not twenty strokes from +her, caught a glimpse of its one rower, and without a second's hesitation +flung up an imperious arm. + +"Stop!" she cried. "It's me!" + +He ceased to row on the instant, but the boat shot on. She saw the +concern in his face as he brought it back. His black head shone wet in +the sunlight. He was evidently returning from a bathe himself. + +"It's all right," smiled Chris. "Are you in a great hurry? I wondered if +you would tow me a little way. I've come too far, and I'm just a tiny bit +tired." + +He brought the boat near, and shipped his oars. "I will row you to the +shore with pleasure, mademoiselle," he said. + +"No, no," she said. "Just throw me a rope, that's all." + +"But I have no rope, mademoiselle." + +He leaned down to her as she swam alongside; but Chris still hung back, +with laughing eyes upraised. "You will capsize in a minute, and that +won't help either of us. Really, I don't think I will come out." + +But she gave him her hand, nevertheless. + +His fingers closed upon it in a warm clasp that seemed very sure of +itself. He smiled down at her. "I think otherwise, mademoiselle." + +She found it impossible to resist him, and so yielded with characteristic +briskness of decision. "Very well, if you will let me dive from the boat +afterwards. Hold tight, _preux chevalier_! One--two--three!" + +She came up to him out of the sea like a bird rising from the waves. A +moment he had her slim young body between his hands. Then she stepped +lightly upon the thwart, and he let her go. + +And in that instant something happened: something that was like the +kindling of spirit into flame ran between them--a transforming magic that +only one knew for the Divine Miracle that changes the face of the whole +earth. + +To the girl, with her wet hair all around her and her face of baby-like +innocence, it only meant that the sun shone more brightly and the sea was +more blue for the coming of her _preux chevalier_. And she sang, without +knowing why. + +To the man it meant the sudden, primal tumult of all the deepest forces +of his nature; it meant the awakening of his soul, the birth of his +manhood. + +He was young, barely twenty-two. Very early Ambition had called to him, +and he had followed with a single heart. He had never greatly cared for +social pleasures; he had been too absorbed to enjoy them. But now--in a +single moment--Ambition was dethroned. At the time, though his eyes were +open, he scarcely realized that the old supremacy had passed. Only long +afterwards did he ask himself if the death-knell of his success had begun +to toll on that golden morning; because a man cannot serve two masters. + +"A penny for your thoughts!" laughed the elf in the stern, and he came to +himself to wonder how old she was. "No, never mind!" she added. "I +daresay they are not worth it, and I couldn't pay if they were." + +Her eyes dwelt approvingly upon him as, with sleeves rolled above his +elbows, he began to pull at the oars. He was certainly very handsome. She +wondered that she had not noticed it before. + +"Mademoiselle will not swim so far again all alone?" he suggested gently, +after a few steady strokes. + +She looked at him frowningly. There was no faintest tinge of dignity +about her, only the careless effrontery of childhood and the grace that +is childhood's heritage. + +"I am going to swim as far as the skyline some day," she announced +lightly, "and look over the edge of the world." + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +She held up an imperious hand. "That is one of the things you are not +allowed to say. You are never to talk French to me. It is holiday-time +when I am with you, and I never talk French in the holidays, except to +Mademoiselle, who won't listen to English. And won't you call me Chris? +Everyone else does." + +"Chris?" he repeated after her very softly, his eyes upon her, tenderly +indulgent. "Ah! let it be Christine. I may call you that?" + +"Of course," she returned practically. "My actual name is Christina, but +that's a detail. You can call me Christine if you like it best." + +"I have another name for you," he said, with slight hesitation. + +"Have you?" she asked with interest. "What is it? Do tell me!" + +But he still hesitated. "It will not vex you? No?" + +She flashed him her merriest smile. "Of course not. Why should it?" + +He smiled back upon her, but there was the light of something deeper than +mirth in his eyes. "I call you my bird of Paradise," he said. + +"How pretty!" said Chris. "Quite poetical, _preux chevalier_! You may go +on calling me that if you like, but it's too long for general use. And +what shall I call you? Tell me your Christian name." + +"Bertrand, mademoiselle." + +She held up an admonitory finger. "Chris!" + +"Christine," he said, with his friendly smile. + +She nodded. "Now don't forget! I think I shall call you Bertie because it +sounds more English. I'm going to dive now, so don't row any farther." + +She sprang to her feet and stepped on to the thwart, where she stood +balancing, her arms above her head. + +He waited motionless to see her go. But she remained poised for several +seconds, the sunlight full upon her slim, straight figure and bare, +upraised arms. Her hair, that had begun to dry, fluttered a little in the +breeze. The splendour of it almost dazzled the onlooker. He sat with +bated breath. She was like a young goddess, invoking the spirit of the +morning. + +Suddenly she turned a laughing face over her shoulder. "Bertie!" + +He pulled himself together. "Christine!" he answered, with a quick smile. + +She laughed a little more. "Well done! I wondered if you would remember. +Will you do something for me?" + +"All that you wish," he said. + +"Well, when you come to tea with me in the Magic Cave on the tenth bring +a lantern. Will you?" + +"But certainly," he said. + +"I want to explore," said Chris. "I want to find out all the secrets +there are." + +She turned back to contemplate the deep blue water at her feet, paused a +moment longer; then, "Good-bye, Bertie!" she cried, and was gone. + +He saw the curve of her young body in the sunshine before she +disappeared, felt the spray splash upwards on his face; but he continued +to gaze at the spot where she had stood as a man spellbound, while every +pulse and every nerve throbbed with the thought of her and the mad, sweet +exultation that she had stirred to life within him. Child she might be, +but in that amazing moment he worshipped her as man was made to worship +woman in the beginning of the world. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE BIRTHDAY TREAT + + +It was her birthday, and Chris scampered over the sands with Cinders +tugging at her skirt, singing as she ran. She had three good reasons for +being particularly happy that day--the first and foremost of these being +the long-anticipated adventure that lay before her; the second that her +two young brothers had improved so greatly in health that the tedious +hours of her solitude were very nearly over; and the third that a letter +from Jack, cousin and comrade, was tucked up her sleeve. + +Jack's letters were infrequent and ever delightful. He always struck the +right note. He had written for her birthday to tell her that he had +bought a present for her to celebrate the memorable occasion, but that he +was reserving to himself the pleasure of offering it in person when they +should meet again, which happy event would, he believed, take place at no +distant date. In fact, Chris might see him any day now, since the +privilege of escorting her and her following back to England was to be +his, and he understood that the ruling power had decreed that their +return should not be postponed much longer. + +She was by no means anxious to go; in fact, when the time came she would +be sorry. But she was not thinking of that to-day. It was not her custom +to dwell upon unwelcome things, and Jack had, moreover, made the prospect +attractive by the suggestion that they might possibly spend two or three +days in Paris on their return. Paris under Jack's auspices would be +paradise in Chris's estimation. She could imagine nothing more +enchanting. + +So she and Cinders were in high spirits and prepared to enjoy the +birthday treat to the uttermost. She carried a small--very small--bag of +cakes which Mademoiselle had packed for her picnic--poor Mademoiselle, +who could not understand how any _demoiselle_ could prefer to eat her +food upon the beach. In fact, Chris had only carried the point because it +was her birthday, and naturally Mademoiselle had not been informed that +she had invited a guest to the meagre feast. + +Chris, however, was quite content. With the serenity of childhood she was +sure there would be enough. She even told herself privately that it would +be the best birthday-party she had ever had. And Cinders was apparently +of the same opinion. + +They raced nearly all the way to the rocks, spurred by the sight of a +familiar white figure awaiting them there. He came to meet them with his +customary courtesy, bare-headed, with shining eyes. + +"Will you accept my good wishes?" he said, as he bent over her hand. + +She laughed and thanked him. "I'm getting horribly old. Do you know I'm +seventeen? I shall have to put up my hair next year." + +"I grieve to hear it," he protested. + +"Never mind. It isn't next year yet. Have you remembered the lantern? +Where is it? No, I don't want any help, thank you. I balance best alone." + +She was already skipping over the rocks with arms extended. He followed +her lightly, ready to give his hand at a moment's notice. But Chris was +very sure-footed, and though she allowed him to take her parcel, she +would not accept his assistance. + +"I haven't brought anything to drink," she remarked presently, "I hope +you don't mind." + +No, he minded nothing. Like herself, he was enjoying the treat to the +uttermost. He had not forgotten the lantern. It was waiting by the Magic +Cave. He begged that she would not hasten. The tide would not turn yet. + +But Chris was in an impetuous mood. She wanted to start upon her +adventure without delay. Should they not explore first and have tea +after? It should be exactly as she wished, he assured her. Was it not her +_fête_? + +But when at length she reached the shingle under the cliffs, she found a +surprise in store for her that made her change her mind. + +A white napkin was spread daintily upon a flat-topped rock, and on this +were set a large pink and white cake and a box of _fondants_. + +"Goodness!" ejaculated Chris. + +"_Merveilleux_!" exclaimed the Frenchman. + +She turned upon him. "Now, Bertie, you needn't pretend you are not at the +bottom of it, for I am old enough to know better. No," as he shrugged his +shoulders and spread out his hands, "it's not a bit of good doing that. +It doesn't deceive me in the least. I know you did it, and you're a +perfect dear, and it was sweet of you to think of it. It's the best +picnic I ever went to. And you even thought of tea," catching sight of a +small spirit-kettle that sang in a sheltered corner. "Let's have some at +once, shall we? I'm so thirsty." + +He had forgotten nothing. From a basket he produced cups, saucers, +plates, knives, and arranged them on his improvised table. + +Chris surveyed the cake with frank satisfaction. "What a mercy the gulls +didn't seize it while your back was turned! Do cut it, quick!" + +"No, no! You will perform that ceremony," smiled Bertrand. + +"Shall I? Oh, very well. I expect I shall do it very badly. What lovely +sweets! Did they come out of the Magic Cave? I hope they won't vanish +before we come to eat them." + +"I thought that my bird of Paradise would like them," he said softly. + +"Your bird of Paradise loves them," promptly returned Chris. "In fact, if +you ask me, I think she is inclined to be rather greedy. Please take the +kettle off. It's spluttering. You must make the tea if I'm to cut the +cake. And let's be quick, shall we? I believe it's going to rain!" + +They were not very quick, however, for, as Chris herself presently +remarked, one couldn't scramble over such a cake as that. And the rain +came down in a sharp shower before they had finished, and drove them into +the Magic Cave for shelter. + +The girl's young laughter echoed weirdly along the rocky walls as she +entered, and she turned with a slightly startled expression to make sure +that her companion was close to her. + +He had paused to rescue the remains of the feast. "Quick!" she called to +him. "You will be drenched." + +"_Je viens vite--vite_," he called back, and in a few seconds was at her +side. + +"_Comment_!" he said. "You are afraid, no?" + +"No," said Chris, colouring under his look of inquiry. "But it's horribly +eerie. Where is Cinders?" + +A muffled bark from the depths of the cave answered her. Cinders was +obviously exploring on his own account, and believed himself to be on the +track of some quarry. + +"Light the lantern--quick!" commanded Chris, her misgivings diverted into +another channel. "We mustn't lose him. Isn't it cold!" + +She shivered in her light dress, but turned inwards resolutely. + +"_Tenez_!" exclaimed the Frenchman, quick to catch her mood. "I will go +to find the good Cinders. He is not far." + +"And leave me!" said Chris quickly. + +"_Eh bien_! Let us remain here." + +"And leave Cinders!" said Chris. + +He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then stooped without further words +and kindled his lamp. + +The rain was still beating in fierce grey gusts over the sea and +pattering heavily upon the shingle. The waves broke with a sullen +roaring. Evidently a gale was rising. + +Chris, with her face to the darkness of the cave, shivered again. Somehow +her spirit of adventure was dashed. + +The flame of Bertrand's lamp shone vaguely inwards, revealing a narrow +passage that wound between rugged cliff-walls into darkness. The rock +gleamed black and shiny on all sides. Underfoot were stones of all shapes +and sizes, worn smooth by the sea. + +"What a ghastly place!" whispered Chris, and something seemed to catch +the whisper and repeat it sibilantly a great many times as if learning it +off by heart. + +"Permit me to precede you," said Bertrand. "You will find it not so +narrow in a moment. If you look behind you, you will see the sea as in +the frame of a picture. It is beautiful, is it not?" + +His soft voice and casual words reassured her. She looked and admired, +though the sea was grey and the shore all blurred with rain. + +"There will be a rainbow soon," he said. "See! It grows more light +already." + +But he was looking at her as he spoke, though his glance fell directly +she turned towards him. + +"Do you come here often?" she asked. + +"But very often," he said. + +"And what do you do here?" + +"I will show you by and bye." + +"Very well," she said eagerly. "Then we won't go any farther when we have +found Cinders." + +But this last suggestion was not so easy of accomplishment. The darkness +had swallowed Cinders as completely as though the jaws of the dragon had +closed upon him. + +"Where can he be?" said Chris, a quiver of distress in her voice. + +"Have no fear! We will find him," Bertrand assured her. + +He moved forward, holding the lantern to guide her. She kept very close +to him, especially when a curve in the passage hid the entrance behind +her. Her fancy for exploring was rapidly dwindling. + +As he had told her, the passage soon widened. They emerged into a cave of +some size and considerable height. + +"He will be here," announced Bertrand, with conviction. + +But he was mistaken; Cinders was nowhere to be seen. + +Chris looked around her wonderingly. This chamber in the rock was unlike +anything she had ever seen before. The very atmosphere seemed ominous, +like the air of a dungeon. + +"And you come here often!" she said again incredulously. + +He smiled, and, raising his lantern, pointed to a crevice just above his +head. "That is where I keep my magic." + +Chris stood on tiptoe, and peered curiously. He reached up with his free +hand, and drew forward something that gave back dully the flare of the +lamp. She saw a black tin box that looked like a miniature safe. + +He looked at her with a smile. "It contains my treasures--my black arts," +he said, "and my future." He pushed it back again and turned. "Come! we +will find the naughty Cinders." + +Chris was on the point of asking eager questions regarding this new +mystery, but before she could begin to utter them a long and piteous +howl--the howl of a lost dog--sent them helter-skelter from her mind. + +"Oh, listen!" she cried. "That's Cinders!" + +She sprang forward while the miserable sound was still echoing all about +them. "Oh, isn't it dreadful?" she gasped. "Do you think he is hurt?" + +"No, no!" Bertrand hastened to reassure her. "He is only afraid. We will +go to him." + +He stretched out a hand to her, and she put hers into it as naturally as +a child. Her chin was quivering, and her voice, when she tried to call to +the dog, broke down upon a sob. + +"He will never know where we are because of the echoes," she said. + +"He is not far," declared the Frenchman consolingly. "See, here is the +passage. They say that it was made by the contrabandists, but it leads to +nowhere; it has been blocked since many years. Do not fall on the stones; +they are very slippery." + +A passage, even narrower than the first, led from the cave in which they +had been standing. Bertrand went first, his hand stretched out behind +him, still holding hers. + +They had scrambled in this order about a dozen yards when again they +heard Cinders' cry for help--a pathetic yelping considerably farther away +than it had been before. The unlucky wanderer seemed to have lost his +head in the darkness and to be running hither and thither in wild dismay. + +"What shall we do?" said Chris in tears. "I've never heard him cry like +that before." + +Bertrand paused to listen. "The passage divides near here," he said. +"Courage, little one! We may find him at any moment. Will you then wait +while I search a little farther? I will leave you the lantern. I have +some matches." + +"Oh, please don't leave me!" entreated Chris. "Why can't I come too?" + +"It is too rough for you," he said. "And there are two passages. If I do +not find him in the one, without doubt he will return by the other to +you." + +"You--you'd better take the lantern then," said Chris, with a gulp. "If I +am only going to stand still, I--I shan't want it." + +"No, no--" he began. + +But she insisted. "Yes, really. You will want it. I will wait for you +here, if you think it best. Only you will promise not to be long?" + +"I promise," he said. + +"Then be quick and go," she urged, drawing her hand from his. "We must +find him--we must." + +But when his back was turned, and she saw him receding from her with the +light, she covered her face and trembled. It was the most horrible +adventure she had ever experienced. + +For a long time she heard his footsteps echoing weirdly, but when they +died away at last and she stood alone in the utter, vault-like darkness, +her heart failed her. What if he also lost his way? + +The darkness was terrible. It seemed to press upon her, to hurt her. +Through it came the faint sounds of trickling water from all directions +like tiny voices whispering together. Now and then something moved with a +small rustling. It might have been a lizard, a crab, or even a bat. But +Chris thought of snakes and stiffened to rigidity, scarcely daring to +breathe. The roar of the sea sounded remote and far, yet insistent also +as though it held a threat. And, above all, thick and hard and +agitatingly distinct, arose the throbbing of her frightened heart. + +All the horrors she had ever heard or dreamt of passed through her brain +as she waited there, yet with a certain desperate courage she kept +herself from panic. Cinders might run against her at any moment--at any +moment. And even if not, even if she were indeed quite alone in that +awful place, she had heard it said that God was nearer to people in the +dark. + +"O God," she whispered, "I am so frightened. Do bring them both back +soon." + +After the small prayer she felt reassured. She touched the clammy wall on +each side of her, and essayed a tremulous whistle. It was a brave little +tune; she knew not whence it came till it suddenly flashed upon her that +she had heard it on Bertrand's lips on the day that he had drawn his +pictures in the sand. And that also renewed her courage. After all, what +had she to fear? + +Over and over again she whistled it with growing confidence, improving +her memory each time, till suddenly in the middle of a bar there came the +rush and patter of feet, a yelp of sheer, exuberant delight, and Cinders, +the wanderer, wet, ecstatic, and quite shameless, leaped into her arms. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE SPELL + + +She hugged him to her heart in the darkness, all her fears swept away in +the immensity of her joy at his recovery. + +"But, Cinders, how could you? How could you?" was the utmost reproof she +could find it in her heart to bestow upon the delinquent. + +Cinders explained in his moist, eager way that it had been quite +unintentional, and that he was every whit as thankful to be back safe and +sound in her loving arms as she was to have him there. They discussed the +subject at length and forgave each other with considerable effusion, +eventually arriving at the conclusion that no blame attached to either. + +And upon this arose the question, What of the Frenchman, Chris's _preux +chevalier_, who had so nobly adventured himself upon a fruitless quest? + +"He promised he wouldn't be long," she reflected hopefully. "We shall +just have to wait till he turns up, that's all." + +She would not suffer her rescued favourite to leave her arms again, and +they wiled away some time in the joy of reunion. But the minutes began to +drag more and more slowly, till at length anxiety came uppermost again. + +Chris began to grow seriously uneasy. What could have happened to him? +Had he really lost his way? And if so what could she do? + +Plainly nothing, but wait--wait--wait! And she was so tired of the +darkness; her eyes ached with it. + +Her fears mustered afresh, fantastic fears this time. She began to see +green eyes glaring at her, to hear stealthy footfalls above the long, +deep roar of the sea, to feel the clammy presence of creatures unknown +and hostile. Cinders, too, weary of inaction, began to whimper, to lick +her face persuasively, and to suggest a move. + +But Chris would not be persuaded. She could without doubt have groped her +way back to the cave where Bertrand kept his magic, and even thence to +the shore. But she did not for a moment contemplate such a proceeding. +She would have felt like a soldier deserting his post. Sooner or later +Bertrand would return and look for her here, and here he must find her. + +But her fears were growing more vivid every moment, and when Cinders, +infected thereby, began to growl below his breath and to bristle under +her hand she became almost terrified. + +Desperately she grappled with her trepidation and flung it from her, chid +Cinders for his foolish cowardice, and fell again to whistling Bertrand's +melody with all her might. + +Clear and flutelike it echoed through the desolate tunnels, startlingly +distinct to her strained nerves. Sometimes the echoes seemed to mock her, +but she would not be dismayed. It might be a help to Bertrand, and it +certainly helped herself. + +A long time passed, how long she had not the vaguest notion. Cinders, +grown tired of his own impatience, rested his chin on her shoulder and +went phlegmatically to sleep, secure in her assurance that there was +nothing whatever to be afraid of. Small creature though he was, her arms +ached from holding him, yet she would not let him go, he was too precious +for that; and each minute that passed, so she told herself, brought the +end of her vigil nearer. + +Her heart was like lead within her, but she would not give way to +despair. He was bound to come in the end. + +And come in the end he did, but not till her hopes had sunk so low that +when she heard the first faint sound of his returning feet she would not +believe her ears. But when Cinders heard it also, and raised his head to +growl, she suffered herself to be convinced. He really was coming at +last. + +His progress was very slow, maddeningly slow it seemed to Chris. She +watched eagerly for the first sign of light from his lantern, but she +watched in vain. No faintest ray came to illumine the darkness. Surely it +was he; it could be none other! + +Nearer and nearer came the footsteps, slow and groping. She listened till +she could bear it no longer; then "Bertrand!" she cried wildly. "Bertie! +Oh, is it you! Do speak!" + +Instantly his voice came to her out of the darkness. "Yes, yes. It is me, +little one. I have had--an accident. I am desolated--afflicted; there are +no words that can say. And you awaiting me still, my little bird of +Paradise, singing so bravely in the darkness!" + +"Whistling," corrected Chris; "I can't sing. What on earth has happened? +Are you hurt?" + +"No, no! It is nothing--a _bagatelle_. Ah, but you have found the good +Cinders! I am rejoiced indeed!" + +"Yes, he came to me--ages ago. It is you I have been waiting for all this +time. I thought you were never coming. At least, of course, I knew you +would come; but oh"--with a great sigh--"it has been a long time!" + +"Ah, pardon me!" he said. "But why did you wait?" + +"Of course I waited," said Chris. "I said I would." + +"And you were not afraid? No?" + +He was standing close to her now, and Cinders was wriggling to reach and +welcome him. + +"Yes, a little," Chris admitted. "That's why I whistled. But it's all +right now. Do let us get out." + +"Ah!" he said. "But I fear--" + +"What?" she asked, with sudden misgiving. + +He hesitated a moment, then, "The tide," he said. + +"Bertie!" For the first time Chris's bravely sustained courage broke +down. She thrust out a clinging hand and clutched his arm. "Are we going +to be drowned--here--in the dark?" she said, gasping. + +"No, no, no!" His reply was instant and reassuring. He took her hand and +held it. "It is not that. The water will not reach us. It is only that we +cannot return until the tide permit." + +"Oh, well!" Chris's relief eclipsed her dismay. "That doesn't matter so +much," she said. "Let us get out of this horrid little tunnel, anyhow. +Oh, darling Cinders! He wants to kiss you. Do you mind?" + +Bertrand laughed involuntarily. But she was droll, this English child! +Was it possible that she did not realize the seriousness of the dilemma +in which she found herself? Well, if not--he shrugged his shoulders--it +was not for him to enlighten her. As comrades in trouble they would +endure their incarceration as bravely as they might. + +There was a faint spice of enjoyment in Chris's next remark: "Well, we +are all together, that's one thing, and we've got the cake for supper, if +we can only find it. Will you go first, please, so that I can hold on to +you. It will be nice to see the light again. What happened to the +lantern? Did you drop it?" + +"I fell," he said. "I thought that I heard the good Cinders in front of +me, and I ran. I tripped and struck my head. It stunned me. _Après cela_, +I lay--_depuis longtemps_--insensible till I awoke and heard you singing +so far--so far away." + +"Whistling," said Chris. + +"I thought it was a bird at the dawn," he said, "flying high in the sky. +And I lay and listened." + +"My dear _chevalier_, you wanted shaking," she interposed, with +pardonable severity. "Are you sure you are awake now? Oh, look! There is +a ray of light! How heavenly! But why didn't you relight the lantern?" + +"It was broken," he said, "and useless. Also I found that I had only +three matches." + +"I hope it will be a lesson to you," she rejoined, breathing a sigh of +relief as they emerged into the dim twilight of the cave. "Oh, isn't it +nice to see again! I feel as if I have been blindfolded for years." + +"Poor little one!" he said. "Can you ever pardon me?" + +They stood together in the deep gloom. They could hear the water lapping +the sides of the passage that led inwards from the shore. + +"It must be knee-deep round the bend," said Chris. "Yes, I'll forgive +you, Bertie. I daresay it wasn't altogether your fault, and I expect your +head aches, doesn't it? I hope it isn't very bad. Is there a very big +lump? Let me feel." + +She passed her hand over his forehead till her fingers encountered the +excrescence they sought. + +"Oh, you poor boy, it's enormous!" she exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me +before? We must bathe it at once." + +But Bertrand laughed and gently drew her hand away. "No--no! It is only a +_bagatelle_. Think no more of it, I beg. I merited it for my negligence. +Now, while there is still light, let us decide where you can with the +greatest convenience pass the night." + +He was prepared for some measure of dismay, as he thus presented to her +the worst aspect of the catastrophe. But Chris remained serene. She was +rapidly recovering her spirits. + +"Oh, yes," she said. "And poor Cinders too! We must find him a nice comfy +corner. He can lie on my skirt and keep me warm. Oh, do you know, I heard +such a funny story the other day about this very cave. I'll tell you +about it presently. But do find the cake first. I'm so hungry. We needn't +go to bed yet, need we? It must be quite early. What time do you think +the tide will let us get out? Poor Mademoiselle will think I'm drowned." + +Chris's awe of the Magic Cave had evidently evaporated. The picnic mood +had returned to take its place, and Bertrand knew not whether to be more +astounded or relieved. He began to feel about for the basket containing +the remnants of their feast, while Chris with much volubility and not a +little merriment explained the situation to Cinders. + +He calculated that they would be at liberty in the early hours of the +morning unless he tempted Fate a second time by climbing the cliff. But +Chris would not for a moment consider this proposition, and he was too +shaken by his recent fall to feel assured of success if he persisted. +Moreover, he seriously doubted if any boat could be brought within reach +of her while the tide remained high. + +Plainly his only course was to follow her lead and make the best of +things. If she managed to extract any enjoyment from a most difficult +situation, so much the better. He could but do his utmost to encourage +this enviable frame of mind. + +Chris, munching cheerfully in the twilight, had evidently quite forgotten +her woes. They went down the passage later as far as the bend, and looked +at the seething water, all green in the evening light, that held them +captive. + +"I wish it wasn't going to be quite dark," she said when they returned. +"But if we hold hands and talk I shan't mind. That was a lovely cake of +yours, Bertie, I shall never forget it." + +They found a ledge to sit on, Chris with her feet curled up; and Cinders, +grown sleepy after a generous meal, pressed against her. She protested +when Bertrand took off his coat and wrapped it round her, but he would +take no refusal. There was a penetrating dampness about the place that he +feared for her. + +"If you sleep, you will feel it," he said. + +"But I'm not going to sleep," declared Chris. "I never felt more +wide-awake in my life. I often do at bedtime. I hope you are not feeling +sleepy either, for I want to talk all night long." + +Bertrand professed himself quite willing to listen. "You were going to +tell me something about this cave," he reminded her. + +"Oh, yes." Chris swooped upon the subject eagerly. "Manon, the little +maid-of-all-work, was telling me. She said that no one ever comes here +because it is haunted. That's what made Cinders and me call it the Magic +Cave. She said that it was well known that no one ever came out the same +as they went in even in the daytime, and if any one were to spend the +night here they would be under a spell for the rest of their lives. Just +think of that, Bertie! Do you think we shall be? She didn't tell me what +the spell was. I expect it was something too bad to repeat. That's how +Cinders and I came to make up about the knight and the dragon. I hope the +dragon won't find us, don't you?" + +She drew a little nearer to him and slipped a hand inside his arm. He +pressed it close to him, + +"Have no fear, _chérie_. No evil can touch you while I am here." + +"I should be terrified if you weren't," she told him frankly. "Did you +ever hear about the spell? Do you know what it means?" + +"Yes," he said slowly; "I have heard. That was in part why I came here at +first, because I knew that I should be alone. I had need of solitude in +order to accomplish that which I had begun." + +"Your magic?" queried Chris eagerly. + +"Yes, little one, my magic. But"--he was smiling--"I have never remained +here for the night. And the charm, you say, is not so potent during the +day." + +"You may be under it already," she said. "I wonder if you are." + +"Ah!" Bertrand's tone was suddenly grave. "That also is possible." + +"I wonder," she said again. "That may be what made you knock your head. +One never knows. But tell me about your magic. What is it? What do you +do?" + +"I think," he said, "I calculate. And I build." + +"What do you build?" + +"It is a secret," he said. + +"But you will tell me!" + +"Why, Christine?" + +"Because I do so want to know," she urged coaxingly. "And I can keep +secrets really. All English people can. Try me!" She thrust forward the +little finger of the hand that his arm held. "You must pinch it," she +explained, "as hard as you can. And if I don't even squeak you will know +I am to be trusted." + +He took the finger thus heroically proffered, hesitated a second, then +put it softly to his lips. "I would trust you with my life," he said, +"with my honour, with all that I possess. Christine, I am an inventor, +and I am at the edge of a great discovery--a discovery that will make the +French artillery the greatest in the world." + +"Goodness!" said Chris, with a gasp; then in haste, "Not--not greater +than ours surely!" + +He turned to her impetuously in the darkness, her hands caught into his. +"Ah, you say that because you are English! And the English--_il faut que +les anglais soient toujours, toujours les premiers_--is it not so--always +and in all things? Yet consider! What is it--this national rivalry--this +strife for the supremacy? We laugh at it, you and I. We know what it is +worth." + +But Chris was too young to laugh. "I don't quite like it," she said. "I'm +very sorry. Shall we talk of something else?" + +But he still held her hands closely clasped. "Listen, Christine, my +little one! These things they pass. They are as a dream in the midst of a +great Reality. They are not the materials of which we weave our life. +Envy, ambition, success--what are they? Only a procession that marches +under the windows, and we look out above them, you and I, to the great +heaven and the sun; and"--something more than eagerness thrilled suddenly +in his voice--"we know that that is our life--the Spark Eternal that +nothing can ever quench." + +He ceased abruptly. Cinders had stirred in his sleep, and she had drawn +away one of her hands to fondle him. + +There fell short silence. Then, her voice a little doubtful, she spoke-- + +"You are not ambitious, then?" + +He threw himself back against the rock, and with the movement a certain +tension went out of the atmosphere--a tension of which she had been +vaguely aware almost without knowing it. + +"Ah, yes, I am ambitious," he said. "I am a builder. I have my work to +do. And I shall succeed. I shall make that which all the world will envy. +I shall be famous." He broke off to laugh exultantly. "Oh, it will be +good--good!" he said. "One does not often reach the summit while one is +yet young. There are times when it seems too wonderful to be true; and +yet I know--I know!" + +"Is it a gun?" said Chris. + +"Yes, _mignonne_, a gun! It is also a secret--thine and mine." + +She uttered a faint sigh. "I wish it wasn't a gun, Bertie. If it were +only an aeroplane, or something that didn't hurt anyone! Of course, you +are a soldier and a Frenchman. I couldn't expect you to understand." + +He laughed rather ruefully. "But I understand all. And you do not love +the French? No?" + +"Not so very much," said Chris honestly. "Of course, I'm not being +personal. I liked you from the first." + +"Ah! But really?" he said. + +"Yes, really; and so did Cinders. He always knows when people are nice. +We shall miss you quite a lot when we go home." + +"Quite a lot!" Bertrand repeated the phrase musingly as if questioning +with himself how much it might mean. + +"Yes," she went on, "we were so lonely till you came." She broke off to +yawn. "Do you know, I'm beginning to get sleepy. Is it the spell, do you +think, or only the dark?" + +"It is not the spell," he said, with conviction. + +"No?" She moved uneasily. "I'm not very comfy," she remarked. "I wish I +were like Cinders. He can sleep in any position. It must be so +convenient." + +"Will you, then, lean on my shoulder?" Bertrand suggested, with a touch +of diffidence. + +She accepted the offer with alacrity. "Oh, yes, if you don't mind. It +would be better than nodding one's head off, as if one were in church, +wouldn't it? But what of you? Aren't you sleepy at all?" + +"I have no desire to sleep," he told her gravely. + +"Haven't you?" Chris's head descended promptly upon his shoulder. "I've +never been up all night before," she said. "It feels so funny. How the +sea roars! I wish it wouldn't. Bertie, you're sure there isn't such a +thing as a dragon really, aren't you?" + +His hand closed fast upon hers. "I am quite sure, _chérie_." + +"Thank you. That's nice," she murmured. "I haven't said my prayers. Do +you think it matters as I'm not going to bed? I really am tired." + +"No, dear," he said. "_Le bon Dieu_ understands." + +She moved her head a little. "Are you going to say yours, Bertie?" + +"Perhaps, little one." + +"Oh, that's all right," she said comfortably. "Good-night!" + +"Good-night, _chérie_!" + +His lips were close, so close to her forehead. He could even feel +her hair blow lightly against his face. But he remained rigid as a +sentry--watchful and silent and still. + +Once during that long night she stirred in her sleep--stirred and nestled +closer to him with an inarticulate murmur; and he turned, moving for the +first time, and gathered her into his arms, holding her there like an +infant against his breast. Thereafter she slept a calm, unbroken slumber, +serenely unconscious of him and serenely content. + +And the man sat motionless, with eyes wide to the darkness, grave and +reverent as the eyes of a warrior keeping his vigil on the eve of +knighthood. But his heart throbbed all night long like the beat of a drum +that calls men into action. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN THE CAUSE OF A WOMAN + + +To say that Mademoiselle Gautier was extremely anxious over her young +charge's disappearance would be to state the case with ludicrous +mildness. She was frantic, she was frenzied with anxiety. + +All the evening and half the night she was literally dancing with +suspense, intermingled with fits of despair that reduced her, while they +lasted, to a state of absolute collapse. Before midnight all Valpré knew +that the little English _demoiselle_ was missing, and all Valpré scoured +the shore for her in vain. Some of the fishermen put out in boats and +continued the search by moonlight as near the rocks as it was possible to +go. But all to no purpose. + +When the moon went down, they abandoned the quest; but at dawn, when the +tide was on the turn, they were out again, searching, searching for a +white, drowned face and a mass of red-brown hair. But the sea only +laughed in the sunlight and revealed no secrets. + +Mademoiselle was quite prostrate by that time. She lay in a darkened room +with her head swathed in a black shawl, and called upon all the holy +saints to witness that she had always predicted this disaster. + +Chris's two young brothers slept fitfully, waking now and then to assure +each other uneasily that of course she would turn up sooner or later +sound in wind and limb; she always did. + +Noel, the younger, who was more or less in Chris's confidence, gave it as +his opinion that she had eloped with someone, that officer-chap she met +the other day, he'd lay a wager! But Maxwell poured contempt upon the +bare suggestion. Chris--elope with a Frenchman! He could as easily see +himself eloping with the Goat--a pet name that he and his brother had +bestowed upon Mademoiselle Gautier, and which fitted her rather well upon +occasion. + +Three hours after sunrise the prodigal returned, lightfooted, gay of +mien. She was alone when she arrived, having firmly refused Bertrand's +escort farther then the end of the _plage_, lest poor Mademoiselle, who +hated men, should have hysterics. But the tale of her adventures had +preceded her. All Valpré knew what had happened, and watched her with +furtive curiosity. All Valpré knew that the _petite Anglaise_ had spent +the night in a cave with one of the officers from the fortress, and all +Valpré waited with bated breath, prepared to be duly scandalized. + +But Chris was sublimely unconscious of this. Of course, she knew that +Mademoiselle would be shocked, but then Mademoiselle's feelings were so +extremely sensitive upon all points moral that it was almost impossible +to spend an hour in her company without in some fashion doing violence +to them. One simply tumbled over them, as it were, at every turn. + +She expected and encountered the usual storm of reproach, but when +Mademoiselle proceeded to inform her that she was ruined for life, she +opened her blue eyes wide and barely suppressed a chuckle. She professed +penitence and even asked forgiveness for all the anxiety she had caused, +but she could not see that what had happened possessed the tragic +importance that Mademoiselle assigned to it. According to her distracted +governess, she had almost better have been drowned. For the life of her, +Chris couldn't see why. + +When the tempest had somewhat spent itself, she retreated to her +brothers, to whom she poured out a full and animated account of the +night's happenings. They all agreed that Mademoiselle must have rats in +the upper story to make such a pother over the adventure, though Maxwell, +who held himself to be approaching years of discretion, gave it as his +opinion that the whole thing was a piece of bad luck and an experiment +not to be repeated. + +"It's over anyhow," said Chris. "And we are none the worse, are we, +Cinders? So all's well that ends well, and now I'm going to get something +to eat." + +For the next two days, Mademoiselle continuing to be hysterical at +intervals, Chris was exemplary in her behaviour. Perhaps even she had had +a surfeit of adventure for the time being. She certainly had no further +urgent desire to explore caves, magic or otherwise. She was also a little +tired, and inclined, after her excitement, to feel proportionately slack. +But early on the morning of the third day her strenuous nature reasserted +itself. + +The sea and the sunshine awoke her together and she arose and dressed, +eager to revel in them both. She wondered if Bertrand were out in his +boat, and rather hoped she might encounter him. + +Bertrand, however, was nowhere to be seen, and she proceeded to enjoy her +morning bathe in solitude. It was an enchanting day, and his absence did +not depress her. The tide was low, and she had to wade out a considerable +distance through the rippling waves; but she reached deep water at last +and proceeded forthwith to enjoy herself to her utmost capacity. + +She spent a delicious half-hour thus, and it was with regret that she +finally returned to the shallows and began to wade back to the point +where Cinders, with her mackintosh, awaited her. + +Just beyond this spot was a fair stretch of sand, and she was surprised +as she drew nearer to the shore to hear voices and to see a group of men +in the blue and red uniform of the garrison gathered upon what she had +come to regard as her own particular playground. She peered at them for +some seconds from beneath her hand, for the sun was in her eyes; and +suddenly a queer little thrill, that was not quite fear and not solely +excitement, ran through her. For all in a moment, ringing on the still +air of early morning, there came to her ears the clash of steel meeting +steel. + +"Good gracious!" she said aloud. "It's a duel!" + +A duel it undoubtedly was. She had a clear view of the whole scene, +distant but distinct, could even see the flash of the swords, the rapid +movements of the two combatants. It impressed her like a scene in a +theatre. She did not wholly grasp the reality of it, though her heart was +beating very fast. + +Knee-deep, she stood in the sparkling water, outlined against the blue of +sky and sea, watching. Several seconds passed, during which they seemed +to be fighting with some ferocity. Then, obeying an impulse of which she +was scarcely aware, she moved on through the swishing waves, drawing +nearer at every step, hearing every instant more distinctly the ominous +clashing of the swords. + +When only ankle-deep, she paused again. Perhaps, after all, it was only a +game--a fencing-match, a trial of skill! Of course, that must be it! Was +it in the least likely to be anything more serious? And yet something +within told her very decidedly that this was not so. A trial of skill it +might be, but it was being conducted in grim earnest. + +She said to herself that she would slip on her mackintosh and go. But an +overwhelming desire to investigate a little further kept her dallying. +She had an ardent longing to see the faces of the antagonists. Later she +marvelled at her own temerity, but at the time this overmastering desire +was the only thing she knew. + +She came out of the sea, reached her faithful attendant Cinders, slipped +on the mackintosh, and advanced nearer still to the little group of +officers upon the beach, buttoning it mechanically as she went. + +Ah, she could see them now! One faced her--a mean-visaged man, fierce, +ferret-like, with glaring eyes and evil mouth. She hated him at sight, +instinctively, without question. + +He was thrusting savagely at his opponent, whose back was towards her--a +slim, straight back familiar to her, so familiar that she recognized him +beyond all doubting, no longer needing to see his face. And yet, +involuntarily it seemed, she drew nearer. + +He was fencing without impetuosity, yet with a precision that even to her +untrained perception expressed a most deadly concentration. Lithe and +active, supremely confident, he parried his enemy's attack, and the grace +of the man, combined with a certain mastery that was also in a fashion +familiar to her, attracted her irresistibly, held her spellbound. There +was nothing brutal about him, no hint of ferocity, only a finished +antagonism as flawless as his chivalry, a strength of self-suppression +that made him superb. + +No one noticed Chris's proximity. All were too deeply engrossed with the +matter in hand. But suddenly Cinders, who loved law and order in all +things pertaining to the human race, scented combat in the air. It was +enough. Cinders would permit no brawling among his betters if he could by +any means prevent it. With tail cocked and every hair bristling, he +rushed into the fray, barking aggressively. + +With a cry of dismay Chris rushed after him, and in that instant the man +facing her raised his eyes involuntarily and shifted his position. The +next instant he lunged frantically to recover himself, failed, and with a +violent exclamation received his adversary's point in his shoulder. + +It all happened in a flash, so rapidly that it was over before either +Chris or Cinders had quite reached the scene. Bertrand whirled round +fiercely, sword in hand, anger turning to consternation in his eyes as he +realized the nature of the interruption. + +Chris had a confused impression that the whole party were talking at once +and blaming her, while they buzzed round the wounded man, who lay back in +the arms of one of them and cursed volubly, whether Bertrand, Cinders, +or herself she never knew. + +She had the presence of mind to snatch up her belligerent favourite, who +was snapping at the prostrate officer's legs; and then, for the first +time in her life, an overwhelming shyness descended upon her as the full +horror of her position presented itself. + +"I couldn't help it, Bertie! Oh, Bertie, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, in +an agony of contrition. + +There was a very odd expression on Bertrand's face. She did not +understand it in the least, but thought he must be furious since he was +undoubtedly frowning. If this were the case, however, he displayed +admirable self-restraint, for he banished the frown almost immediately. + +"Mademoiselle has been bathing, yes?" he questioned briskly. "But it is a +splendid morning for a swim. And le bon Cinders also! How he is droll, ce +bon Cinders!" + +He snapped his fingers airily under the droll one's nose, and flashed his +sudden smile into her face of distress. + +"_Eh bien_!" he said. "_L'affaire est finie_. Let us go." + +He stuck his weapon into the sand and left it there. Then, without +waiting to don his coat, he turned and walked away with her with his +light, elastic swagger that speedily widened the distance between himself +and his vanquished foe. + +Chris walked beside him in silence, Cinders still tucked under her arm. +She knew not what to say, having no faintest clue to his real attitude +towards her at that moment. He had ignored her apology so jauntily that +she could not venture to renew it. + +She glanced at him after a little to ascertain whether smile or frown had +supervened. But both were gone. He looked back at her gravely, though +without reproof. + +"Poor little one!" he said. "It frightened you, no?" + +She drew a deep breath. "Oh, Bertie, what were you doing?" + +"I was fighting," he said. + +"But why? You might--you might have killed him! Perhaps you have!" + +He stiffened slightly, and twisted one end of his small moustache. "I +think not," he said, faint regret in his voice. + +Chris thought not too, judging by the clamour of invective which the +injured man had managed to pour forth. But for some reason she pressed +the point. + +"But--just imagine--if you had!" + +He shrugged his shoulders with extreme deliberation. + +"_Alors_, Mademoiselle Christine, there would have been one _canaille_ +the less in the world." + +She was a little shocked at the cool rejoinder, yet could not somehow +feel that her _preux chevalier_ could be in the wrong. + +"He might have killed you," she remarked after a moment, determined to +survey the matter from every standpoint. "I am sure he meant to." + +He shrugged his shoulders again and laughed. "That is quite possible. And +you would have been sorry--a little--no?" + +She raised her clear eyes to his. "You know I should have been +heart-broken," she said, with the utmost simplicity. + +"But really?" he said. + +"But really," she repeated, breaking into a smile. "Now do promise me +that you will never fight that horrid man again." + +He spread out his hands. "How can I promise you such a thing! It is not +the fashion in France to suffer insults in silence." + +"Did he insult you, then?" + +Again he stiffened. "He insulted me--yes. And I, I struck him. _Après +cela_--" again the expressive shrug, and no more. + +"But how did he insult you?" persisted Chris. "Couldn't you have just +turned your back, as one would in England?" + +"No" Sternly he made reply. "I could not--turn my back." + +"It's ever so much more dignified," she maintained. + +The dark eyes flashed. "Pardon!" he said. "There are some insults upon +which no man, English or French, can with honour turn the back." + +That fired her curiosity. "It was something pretty bad, then? What was +it, Bertie? Tell me!" + +"I cannot tell you," he returned, quite courteously but with the utmost +firmness. + +She glanced at him again speculatively, then, with shrewdness: "When men +fight duels," she said, "it's generally over either politics or--a woman. +Was it--politics, Bertie?" + +He stopped. "It was not politics, Christine," he said. + +"Then--" She paused, expectant. + +His face contracted slightly. "Yes, it was--a woman. But I say nothing +more than that. We will speak of it--never again." + +But this was very far from satisfying Chris. "Tell me at least about the +woman," she urged. "Is it--is it the girl you are going to marry?" + +But he stood silent, looking at her again with that expression in his +eyes that had puzzled her before. + +"Is it, Bertie?" she insisted. + +"And if I tell you Yes?" he said at last. + +She made a queer little gesture, the merest butterfly movement, and yet +it had in it the faintest suggestion of hurt surprise. + +"And you never told me about her," she said. + +He leaned swiftly towards her. There was a sudden glow on his olive face +that made him wonderfully handsome. "_Mignonne_!" he said eagerly, and +then as swiftly checked himself. "Ah, no, I will not say it! You do not +love the French." + +"But I want to hear about your _fiancée_," she protested. "I can't think +why you haven't told me." + +He had straightened himself again, and there was something rather +mournful in his look. "I have no _fiancée_, little one," he said. + +"No?" Chris smiled all over her sunny face. She looked the merest child +standing before him wrapped in the mackintosh that flapped about her bare +ankles, the ruddy hair all loose about her back. "Then whatever made you +pretend you had?" she said. + +He smiled back, half against his will, with the eloquent shrug that +generally served him where speech was awkward. + +"And the woman you fought about?" she continued relentlessly. + +"Mademoiselle Christine," he pleaded, "you ask of me the impossible. You +do not know what you ask." + +"Don't be silly," said Chris imperiously. The matter had somehow become +of the first importance, and she had every intention of gaining her end. +"It isn't fair not to tell me now, unless," with sudden doubt, "it's +somebody whose acquaintance you are ashamed of." + +He winced at that, and drew himself up so sharply that she thought for a +moment that he was about to turn on his heel and walk away. Then very +quietly he spoke. + +"You will not understand, and yet you constrain me to speak. +Mademoiselle, I am without shame in this matter. It is true that I fought +in the cause of a woman, perhaps it would be more true if I said of a +child--one who has given me no more than her _camaraderie_, her +confidence, her friendship, so innocent and so amiable; but these things +are very precious to me, and that is why I cannot lightly speak of them. +You will not understand my words now, but perhaps some day it may be my +privilege to teach you their signification." + +He stopped. Chris was gazing at him in amazement, her young face deeply +flushed. + +"Do you mean me?" she asked at last. "You didn't--you couldn't--fight on +my account!" + +He made her a grave bow. "I have told you," he said, "because otherwise +you would have thought ill of me. Now, with your permission, since there +is no more to say upon the subject, I will return to my friends." + +He would have left her with the words, but she put out an impulsive hand. +"But, Bertie--" + +He took the hand, looking straight into her eyes, all his formality +vanished at a breath. "Ask me no more, little one," he said. "You have +asked too much already. But you do not understand. Some day I will +explain all. Run home to _Mademoiselle la gouvernante_ now, and forget +all this. To-morrow we will play again together on the shore, draw the +pictures that you love, and weave anew our rope of sand." + +He smiled as he said it, but the tenderness of his speech went deep into +the girl's heart. She suffered him to take leave of her almost in +silence. Those words of his had set vibrating in her some chord of +womanhood that none had ever touched before. It was true that she did not +understand, but she was nearer to understanding at that moment than she +had ever been before. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE ENGLISHMAN + + +Chris returned quite soberly to the little house on the _plage_. The +morning's events had given her a good deal to think about. That any man +should deem it worth his while to fight a duel for her sake was a novel +idea that required a good deal of consideration. It was all very +difficult to understand, and she wished that Bertrand had told her more. +What could his adversary of the scowling brows have found to say about +her, she wondered? She had never so much as seen the man before. How had +he managed even to think anything unpleasant of her? Recalling Bertrand's +fiery eyes, she reflected that it must have been something very +objectionable indeed, and wondered how anyone could be so horrid. + +These meditations lasted till she reached the garden gate, and here they +were put to instant and unceremonious flight, for little Noel hailed her +eagerly from the house with a cry of, "Hurry up, Chris! Hurry up! You're +wanted!" + +Chris hastened in, to be met by her young brother, who was evidently in a +state of great excitement. + +"Hurry up, I say!" he repeated. "My word, what a guy you look! We've just +had a wire from Jack. He will be in Paris this evening, and we are to +meet him there. We have got to catch the Paris express at Rennes, and the +train leaves here in two hours." + +This was news indeed. Chris found herself plunged forthwith into such a +turmoil of preparation as drove all thought of the morning's events from +her mind. + +Her brothers were overjoyed at the prospect of immediate departure; +Mademoiselle was scarcely less so; and Chris herself, infected by the +general atmosphere of satisfaction, entered into the fun of the thing +with a spirit fully equal to the occasion. The scramble to be ready was +such that not one of the party stopped to breathe during those two hours. +They bolted refreshments while they packed, talking at the tops of their +voices, and thoroughly enjoying the unwonted excitement. Mademoiselle was +more nearly genial than Chris had ever seen her. She did not even scold +her for taking an early dip. At the time Chris was too busy to wonder at +her forbearance; but she discovered the reason later, without the +preliminary of wondering, when she came to know that it was +Mademoiselle's urgent representations at headquarters regarding her own +delinquencies that had impelled this sudden summons. + +The thought of meeting her cousin added zest to the situation. Though ten +years her senior, Jack Forest had long been the best chum she had--he was +best chum to a good many people. + +Only when by strenuous effort they had managed to catch the one and only +train that could land them at Rennes in time for the Paris express, only +when the cliffs and the dear blue shore where she had idled so many hours +away were finally and completely left behind, did a sudden stab of +realization pierce Chris, while the quick words that her playmate of the +beach had uttered only that morning flashed torch-like through her brain. + +Then and only then did she remember him, her _preux chevalier_, her +faithful friend and comrade, whose name she had never heard, whom she had +left without word or thought of farewell. + +So crushing was her sense of loss, that for a few seconds she lost touch +with her surroundings, and sat dazed, white-faced, stricken, not so much +as asking herself what could be done. Then one of the boys shouted to her +to come and look at something they were passing, and with an effort she +jerked herself back to normal things. + +Having recovered her balance, she managed to maintain a certain show of +indifference during the hours that followed, but she looked back upon +that journey to Paris later as one looks back upon a nightmare. It was +her first acquaintance with suffering in any form. + +Jack Forest, big, square, and reliable, was waiting for them at the +terminus. + +The two boys greeted him with much enthusiasm, but Chris suffered her own +greeting to be of a less boisterous character. Dear as the sight of him +was to her, it could not ease this new pain at her heart, and somehow she +found it impossible to muster even a show of gaiety any longer. + +"Tired?" queried Jack, with her hand in his. + +And she answered, "Yes, dreadfully," with a feeling that if he asked +anything further she would break down completely. + +But Jack Forest was a young man of discretion. He smiled upon her and +said something about cakes for tea, after which he transferred his +attention to more pressing matters. Quite a strategist was Jack, though +very few gave him credit for so being. + +Later, he sat down beside his forlorn little cousin in the great buzzing +vestibule of the hotel whither he had piloted the whole party, and gave +her tea, while he plied the boys with questions. But he never noticed +that she could not eat, or commented upon her evident weariness. +Mademoiselle did both, but he did not hear. + +Chris would have gladly escaped the ordeal of dining in the great +_salle-à-manger_ that night, but she could muster no excuse for so doing. +At any other time it would have been an immense treat, and she dared not +let Jack think that it was otherwise with her to-night. + +So they dined at length and elaborately, to Mademoiselle's keen +satisfaction, but she was aching all the while to slip away to bed and +cry her heart out in the darkness. She could not shake free from the +memory of the friend who would be waiting for her on the morrow, drawing +his pictures in the sand for the playfellow who would never see them--who +would never, in fact, be his playfellow again. + +Returning to the vestibule after dinner to listen to the band was almost +more than she could bear; but still she could not frame an excuse, and +still Jack noticed nothing. He sent the boys to bed, but, as a matter of +course, she remained with Mademoiselle. + +They found a seat under some palms, and Jack ordered coffee. He got on +very well with Mademoiselle as with the rest of the world, and there +seemed small prospect of an early retirement. But at this juncture poor +Chris began to get desperate. She had refused the coffee almost with +vehemence, and was on the point of an almost tearful entreaty to be +allowed to go to bed, when suddenly a quiet voice spoke close to her. + +"Excuse me, Forest! I have been trying to catch your eye for the past ten +minutes. May I have the pleasure of an introduction?" + +Chris glanced quickly round at the first deliberate syllable, and saw a +tall, grave-faced man of possibly thirty, standing at Jack's elbow. + +Jack looked round too, and sprang impulsively to his feet. "You, Trevor! +I thought you were on the other side of the world. My dear chap, why on +earth didn't you speak before? You might have dined with us. Mademoiselle +Gautier, may I present my friend, Mr. Mordaunt?" + +Mademoiselle acknowledged the introduction stiffly. She had no liking for +strange men. + +But Chris looked at the new-comer with frank interest, forgetful for the +moment of her trouble. His smooth, clean-cut face attracted her. His grey +eyes were the most piercingly direct that she had ever encountered. + +"My little cousin, Miss Wyndham," said Jack. "Chris, this is the greatest +newspaper man of the age. Join us, Mordaunt, won't you? I wish you had +come up sooner. Where were you hiding?" + +Mordaunt smiled a little as he took a vacant chair by Chris's side. "I +have been quite as conspicuous as usual during the whole evening," he +said, "but you were too absorbed to notice me. Are you enjoying the +music, Miss Wyndham, or only watching the crowd?" + +Chris did not know quite what to answer, since she had been doing +neither, but he passed on with the easy air of a man accustomed to fill +in conversational gaps. + +"I believe I saw you arrive this evening. Haven't you got a small dog +with a turned-up nose? I thought so. Are you taking him for a holiday? +How do you propose to get him home again?" + +That opened her lips, and quite successfully diverted her thoughts. "He +has had his holiday," she explained, "and we are taking him back. I don't +know in the least how we shall do it. Jack will have to manage it +somehow. Can you suggest anything? The authorities are so horribly strict +about dogs, and I couldn't let him go into quarantine. He would break his +heart long before he came out." + +"A dog of character evidently!" The new acquaintance considered the +matter gravely. "When are you crossing?" he asked. + +"To-morrow," said Jack. "I'm sorry, Chris, but I came off in a hurry, as +matters seemed urgent, and I have to be back by the end of the week." + +"I wonder if you would care to entrust your dog to me," said Mordaunt. "I +am fairly well known. I think I could be relied upon with safety to +hoodwink the authorities." + +He made the suggestion with a smile that warmed Chris's desolate heart. +Not till long afterwards did she know that this man had crossed the +Channel only that day, and that he proposed to re-cross it on the morrow +because of the trouble in a child's eyes that had moved him to +compassion. + +They spent the next half-hour in an engrossing discussion as to the best +means to be adopted for Cinders' safe transit, and when Chris went to bed +at last she was so full of the scheme that she forgot after all to cry +herself to sleep over the thought of her _preux chevalier_ drawing his +sand-pictures in solitude. + +She dreamed instead that he and the Englishman with the level, grey eyes +were fighting a duel that lasted interminably, neither giving ground, +till suddenly Bertrand plunged his sword into the earth and abruptly +walked away. + +She tried to follow him, but could not, for something held her back. And +so presently he passed out of her sight, and turning, she found that the +Englishman had gone also, and she was alone. + +Then she awoke, and knew it was a dream. + + + + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE PRECIPICE + + +The angry yelling of a French mob rose outside the court--a low, ominous +roar, pierced here and there with individual execrations, and the +prisoner turned his head and listened. There was a suspicion of contempt +on his face, drawn though it was. What did they care for justice? It was +only the instinct to hunt the persecuted that urged them. Were he proved +innocent ten times over, they would hardly be convinced or cease from +their reviling. + +But he knew that no proof of innocence would be forthcoming. He was +hedged around too completely by adverse circumstances for that. +Everything pointed to his guilt, and only he himself and one other knew +him to be the victim of a deliberate plot devised to compass his +destruction. He was too hopelessly enmeshed to extricate himself, and the +other--the only man in the world who could establish his innocence--was +the man who had set the snare. + +Bertrand de Montville, gunner and genius, had faced this fact until he +was in a measure used to it. There was to be no escape for him. He, who +had dared to scale the heights of Olympus and had diced with the gods, +was to be hurled into the mire to rise therefrom no more for ever. He had +climbed so high; almost his feet had reached the summit. He had completed +his invention, and it had surpassed even his most sanguine hopes of +success. At four-and-twenty he had been acclaimed by his superiors as the +greatest artillery engineer of his time. His genius had won him a footing +that men more than twice his age, and far above him in military rank, +might have envied. He had been honoured by the highest. + +And then at the very zenith of his prosperity had come his downfall. His +gun, the cherished invention that was to place the French artillery at +the head of the list, the child of his brain, his own peculiar treasure, +was discovered to have been purchased by another Government three months +before he had offered it to his own. + +None but himself--so it was believed, so it was ultimately to be proved +to the satisfaction of impartial judges--had been in a position at that +time to betray the secret, for none but himself had then possessed it. +And a great storm of indignation went through the whole country over the +revelation. + +Passionately but uselessly he protested his innocence. There were a few, +even among his judges, who secretly believed him; but the proof was +incontestable. Inch by inch he had been forced down from the heights that +he had so gallantly scaled, and now he was on the brink of the precipice, +no longer fighting, only waiting with the unflinching courage of the +French aristocrat to be hurled headlong into the abyss that yawned below. + +The yelling of the crowd outside the court was only a detail of the +bitter process that was gradually compassing his condemnation. He knew he +was to be convicted. It was written in varying characters upon every +face; pity, severity, disgust--he met them on every hand. And so on this +the fifth and last day of his court-martial he confronted destiny--that +destiny that he had once so gaily dared--with closed lips and eyes that +revealed neither misery nor despair, only the indomitable pride of his +race. Do what they would to him, they would never quench that while life +remained. The worst indignity that man could inflict would provoke no +outcry here. He had protested his innocence in vain, and he had no proof +thereof to offer. It remained for him to face dishonour as an honourable +man, steady and undismayed. Doubtless there were those who would deem his +bearing brazen, but not his worst enemy should call him coward. + +Across the court an Englishman, with keen grey eyes that took in every +detail, sat and sketched him--sketched the proud, fearless pose of the +man and the hard young face, with its faint, patrician smile. The sketch +was little more than outline, a few bold strokes; but the people in +England who saw it a couple of days later felt as if the artist had +deliberately lifted a curtain and shown to them a man's wrung soul. And +everyone who saw it said, "That man is innocent!" + +Trevor Mordaunt said it himself many times that day before and after the +making of the sketch. He knew, as well as did the prisoner himself, that +there would be no acquittal. Almost from the commencement of the trial he +had known it. But he knew also that two at least of the judges were +disposed towards leniency, and upon this fact he based such slender hopes +as he entertained on the prisoner's behalf. As a fellow-correspondent--a +Frenchman--had remarked to him earlier in the trial, whatever the +verdict, they would hardly martyrize the man lest at a later date further +question as to his guilt should arise and all Europe be set bubbling anew +upon that much-discussed topic--French justice. + +Mordaunt was of the same opinion; but, as he watched the young officer +throughout the whole of the day's proceedings, he came to the conclusion +that the verdict was everything in this man's estimation and the sentence +less than nothing. If he were condemned to be blown from his own gun, he +would face the ordeal unshrinking, almost with indifference. Deprived of +honour, what else was there in life? + +So when the end came at last, and the inevitable verdict was pronounced, +Mordaunt shut his note-book with a feeling that there was no more to be +recorded. + +As a matter of fact the sentence was not pronounced at the time, and only +transpired two days later, when it was officially made public--expulsion +from the army and incarceration in a French fortress for ten years. + +"That, of course, will be commuted," said one who knew the probabilities +of the case to Mordaunt when the sentence was made known. "They will +release him _au secret_ in a few years and banish him from the country on +peril of arrest. They are bound to make an example of him, but they won't +keep it up. The verdict was not unanimous. And, above all, they won't +make a martyr of him now. The other _affaire_ is too recent." + +Mordaunt agreed as to the likelihood of this, but he did not find it +particularly consolatory. He had seen the prisoner's face as he was +guarded through the surging, hostile crowd; and he knew that for Bertrand +de Montville the heavens had fallen. + +An innocent man had been found guilty, and that was the end. He was +beyond the reach of any lenient influence now that justice had failed +him. They had pushed him over the edge of the precipice--this man who had +dared to climb so high; and in the hissings and groanings of the crowd he +heard the death-knell of his honour. + +In silence he went down into the abyss. In silence he passed out of +Trevor Mordaunt's life. Only as he went, for one strange second, as +though drawn by some magnetic force, his eyes, dark and still, met those +of the Englishman, with his level, unfaltering scrutiny. No word or +outward sign passed between them. They were utter strangers; it was +unlikely that they would ever meet again. Only for that one second +something that was in the nature of a message went from one man's soul to +the other's. For that instant they were in communion, subtle but +curiously distinct. + +And Bertrand de Montville went to his martyrdom with the knowledge that +one man--an Englishman--believed in him, while Trevor Mordaunt was aware +that he knew it, and was glad. + +For he had studied human nature long enough to realize that even a +stranger's faith may make a supreme difference in the hour of a man's +most pressing need. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CONQUEST + + +It was a sunny morning in the end of June, and Chris was doing her hair +in curls, for she was expecting a visitor. It took a very long time to +do, for there was so much of it; and she looked very worried over the +process. She would have liked to have borrowed Aunt Philippa's maid, but +this was a prohibited luxury except on very exceptional occasions. And +Hilda--dear, gentle Cousin Hilda--was away in Devon with her _fiancé's_ +people. So Chris had to wrestle with her difficulties in solitude. + +It was the middle of her first season, and, with a few reservations, she +was enjoying it immensely. The reservations were all directly or +indirectly connected with Aunt Philippa, for whom Chris's feeling was +that of an adventurous schoolboy for a somewhat severe headmaster. She +was not exactly afraid of her, but she was instinctively wary in her +presence. She knew quite well that Aunt Philippa had given her this +season as her one and only chance in life, and had done it, moreover, +more than half against her will, impelled thereto by the urgent +representations of her son and daughter, who looked upon their merry +little cousin as their joint _protégée_. She ought, doubtless, to have +come out the previous year, but her aunt's ill-health had precluded this, +and the whole summer had been spent in the country. + +That excuse, however, would not serve Mrs. Forest this year. She had +taken a house in town, and there was no other course open to her than to +launch her brother's child into society, however sorely against her will. +Her main anxiety had fortunately by that time ceased to exist. There was +no likelihood of Chris, with her brilliant, vivacious ways, outshining +her own daughter. For Hilda was engaged to Lord Percy Davenant, who +plainly had eyes and thoughts for none other, and the marriage was to be +one of the events of the season. + +Chris was therefore accorded her chance upon the tacit understanding that +she was to make the most of it, since Mrs. Forest still maintained her +attitude of irresponsibility where her brother's children were concerned, +although the said brother had drifted to Australia and died there, no one +quite knew how, leaving next to nothing behind him. + +His sons and Chris had been brought up upon their mother's fortune, a sum +which had been set aside for their education by their father at her +death, after which, beyond providing them with a home--the ramshackle +inheritance that had come to him from his father--he had made little +further provision for them. His eldest son, Rupert, was a subaltern in a +line regiment. No one knew whether he lived on his pay or not, and no one +inquired. The second son, who possessed undeniable brilliance, had earned +a scholarship, and was studying medicine. And Noel, now aged sixteen, was +still at school, distinguishing himself at sports and consistently +neglecting all things that did not pertain thereto. + +Undoubtedly they were a reckless and improvident family, as Mrs. Forest +so often declared; but perhaps, all things considered, they had never had +much opportunity of developing any other qualities, though it was +certainly hard that she should be regarded as in any degree responsible +for them. She and her brother had always been as far asunder as the poles +in disposition, and neither had ever felt or so much as professed to feel +the faintest affection for the other. + +It vexed her that Jack and Hilda should take so lively an interest in +Chris, who was bound to turn out badly. Had she not already shown herself +to be incorrigibly flighty? But since it vexed her still more that anyone +should regard her actions as blameworthy, she had yielded to their +persuasions. And thus Chris had been given her chance. + +She was thoroughly appreciating it. Everyone was being kind to her, and +it was all extremely pleasant. She was looking forward keenly to the +coming that morning of Trevor Mordaunt, who had been regarded as a +privileged friend ever since he had smuggled Cinders back into England +three years before, secreted in an immense pocket in the lining of a +great motor-coat. Not that she had seen very much of him since that +memorable occasion. In fact, until the present summer they had scarcely +met again. He was a celebrated man in the literary world, and he +travelled far and wide. He was also immensely wealthy. Men said of him +that whatever he touched turned to gold. And fame, wealth, and a certain +unobtrusive strength of personality had combined to make him popular +wherever he went. + +He was more often out of England than in it, and there were even some who +suspected him of being an empire-builder, though their grounds for doing +so were but slight. + +It was, however, characteristic of Chris that she never forgot her +friends, a characteristic which Trevor Mordaunt also possessed to a +marked degree. Therefore it was not surprising that soon after her first +appearance in London society he had claimed and had been readily accorded +the privileges of old acquaintanceship. + +Since that day they had met casually at several functions, and people +were beginning to wonder a little at Mordaunt's unusual energy in a +social sense, for it was several years since he had brought himself to +tread the mill of a London season. + +Chris always hailed his appearance with obvious pleasure, though she was +very far from connecting it in any sense with herself. He was always kind +to her, always ready to make things go smoothly for her, and she never +knew an awkward moment in his society. There were plenty of people who +spoke of him with awe, but Chris was not one of these. She never found +him in the least formidable. + +And so it was with ingenuous pleasure that she anticipated his advent +that morning. They had met at a dance on the previous evening, and her +card had been full before his arrival. It had not occurred to her to save +a dance for him. + +"I never thought you would come," she had told him in distress. "I wish I +had known!" + +And then he had looked at her quietly for a moment with those intent grey +eyes of his that never seemed to miss anything, and had asked her if he +might call on the following morning, since he was to see nothing of her +that night. + +She had responded with a pressing invitation to do so, and he had simply +thanked her and departed. + +And so when the morning came Chris was still struggling with her hair +when he arrived, having breakfasted in bed and finally arisen at a +scandalously late hour. But that she knew Aunt Philippa to be also in +bed, she would scarcely have ventured upon such a proceeding. Aunt +Philippa knew nothing of the expected visitor. As a matter of fact Chris, +in her airy fashion, had quite forgotten to mention the matter. Mrs. +Forest, being still uncertain as to Mordaunt's state of mind, had +discreetly foreborne to put the girl on her guard. She had at the +beginning of things carefully instilled into her that it was essential +that she should miss no opportunity of making a wealthy marriage, and she +hoped that Chris would have the sense to bear this in mind. + +Had she known of Mordaunt's coming she would probably have drilled her +carefully beforehand, but luckily Chris's negligence spared her this. And +so on that sunny summer morning she was sublimely unconscious of what was +before her, and entered Mordaunt's presence at length almost at a run. +Chris at twenty was very little older than Chris at seventeen. + +"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," was her greeting. "Really I +couldn't help it. I just couldn't get up this morning. You know how one +feels after going to bed at four. It was very nice of you to come so +early. Have you had any breakfast?" + +All this was poured out while her hand lay in his, her gay young face +uplifted, half-merry, half-confiding. + +Yes, Mordaunt had breakfasted. He told her so with a faint smile. "And +please don't apologize for being late," he added. "It is I who am early. +I came early on purpose. I wanted to see you alone." + +"Oh?" said Chris. + +She looked at him interrogatively and then quite suddenly she knew what +he had come to say, and turned white to the lips. For the first time she +was afraid of him. + +"Oh, please," she gasped rather incoherently, "please--" + +"Shall we sit down?" he said gently. "I am not going to do or say +anything that need frighten you. If you were a little older you would +realize that I am at your mercy, not you at mine." + +She looked at him wide-eyed, imploring. "Please, Mr. Mordaunt, can't +we--can't we wait a little? I am afraid, I am so afraid of--of making a +mistake." + +The faint smile was still upon his face, though it did not reach his +eyes. He laid a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. + +"My dear little Chris," he said, "I won't let you do that." + +That comforted her a little, though she still looked doubtful. She +suffered him to lead her to a sofa and sit beside her, but she avoided +his eyes. The crisis had come upon her so suddenly, she knew not how to +deal with it. + +"Has no one ever proposed to you before?" he said. + +"No," she whispered. + +"Well, it's all right," he said kindly. "Don't think I am going to trade +on your inexperience. If you want to say 'No' to me, say it, and I'll go. +I shall come back again, of course. I shall keep on coming back till you +say 'Yes' either to me or to some other man. But I hope it won't be +another man, Chris. I want you so badly myself." + +"Do you?" she said. "How--how funny!" + +"Why funny?" he asked. + +She glanced at him speculatively; her panic was beginning to subside. +"You must be ever so much older than I am," she said. + +"I am thirty-five," he said. + +"And I'm not quite twenty-one." A sudden dimple appeared in the cheek +nearest to him. "Fancy me getting married!" said Chris, with a chuckle. +"I can't imagine it, can you?" + +"You will soon get used to the idea," he said. "Anyhow, there is nothing +in it to frighten you--that is, if you marry the right man." + +She nodded thoughtfully, her brief mirth gone. "But, Mr. Mordaunt, how is +one to know?" + +He leaned towards her. "I believe I can teach you," he said, "if you will +let me try." + +She slipped a shy hand into his. "But you won't ask me to marry you for a +long while yet, will you?" she said pleadingly. + +"Not until you have quite made up your mind to be engaged to me," said +Mordaunt. + +She looked at him quickly. "No, not then either. Not--not till I say you +may." + +He laughed a little; but there was something very protecting, +infinitely reassuring, in his grasp. "And if I accept that condition," +he said--"it's a very despotic one, by the way--but if I accept it, +may I consider that you are engaged to me?" + +Chris hesitated. + +"Not if I tell you that I love you," he said, "that I want you more than +anything else in life, that I would give the soul out of my body to make +you happy?" + +His voice was sunk very low. There was more of restraint than emotion in +his utterance. He spoke as a man who knows himself to be upon holy +ground. + +And Chris was awed. The very quietness of the man made her tremble. She +knew instinctively that here was something colossal, something that +dominated her, albeit half against her will. + +She closed her fingers very tightly upon his hand, but she said nothing. + +He sat silent for several seconds, closely watching her, seeking to read +her downcast eyes. But she would not raise them. Her heart was beating +very quickly, and her breath came and went like the breath of a +frightened bird. + +At last very gently he moved, drew her to him, put his arm about her. +"Are you afraid of me, Chris?" + +She nestled to him with a little gesture that was curiously pathetic. +With her face securely hidden against him, she whispered, "Yes." + +"My darling, why?" he said very tenderly. + +"I don't know why," murmured Chris. + +"Surely not because I love you?" he said. + +She nodded against his shoulder. "You ought not to love me like that. +It's too much. I'm not good enough." + +"My little girl," he said, "I am not worthy to hold your hand in mine." + +His hand was on her hair, stroking, fondling, caressing. She nestled +closer, without lifting her face. + +"You don't know me in the least. I'm not a bit nice really. I get up to +all sorts of pranks. I'm wild and flighty. Ask Aunt Philippa if you want +to know." + +"I know you better than Aunt Philippa, dear," he said. + +"Oh no, you don't. You've only seen my good side. I'm always on my best +behaviour with you." + +"Another excellent reason for marrying me," said Mordaunt. + +"Oh, but I shan't be always. That's just it. You--you will be quite +shocked some day." + +"I will take the risk," he said. + +"I don't think you ought to," murmured Chris. "It doesn't seem quite +fair." + +His hand pressed her head very gently. "Meaning that you don't love me?" +he said. + +She made a vehement gesture of denial. "Of course not. I--I'd be a little +beast if I didn't, specially after the way you helped me with Cinders +long ago. I never forgot that--never! Only I do think--before you marry +me--you ought to know how horrid I can be. It--it's buying a pig in a +poke if you don't." + +He laughed again at that in a fashion that emboldened Chris to raise her +head. + +"I am quite in earnest," she told him, in a tone that tried to be +indignant. "You'll find me out presently. And when you do--" + +She stopped with a gasp. His arms were about her, holding her as she +sat. He looked straight down into the shining blue eyes. "When I do, +Chris--" he said. + +She met his look quite bravely. She was even smiling rather tremulously +herself. "You will get a stick and beat me," she said. "I know. People +who have eyes like steel never make allowances for those who haven't!" + +She got no further, for quite suddenly Trevor Mordaunt dropped his +self-restraint like an impeding cloak and caught her to his heart. For +the fraction of a second her fear came back, she almost made as if she +would resist him; and then in a moment it was gone, lost in a wonder that +left no room for anything else. For he kissed her, once and once only, so +passionately, so burningly, so possessively, that it seemed to Chris as +if, without her own volition, even half against her will, she thereby +became his own. He had dominated her, he had won her, almost before she +had had time to realize that there was a stranger within her gates. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WARNING + + +"Well, all I have to say is, 'Bravo, young un!'" Rupert Wyndham stretched +out a careless arm and encircled his sister's waist therewith. She was +perched on the arm of his chair, and she tweaked his ear airily in +response to this encouragement. + +"Oh, you're pleased, are you?" she said. "That's very nice of you." + +"Pleased is a term that does not express my feelings in the least," he +declared. "I am transported with delight. You are the last person I +should have expected to retrieve the family fortunes, but you have done +it right nobly. I'm told the fellow is as rich as Croesus. It's to be +hoped that he is quite resigned to the fact that he is going to have +plenty of relations when he marries. By the way, hasn't he any of his +own?" + +"None that count--only cousins and things. Such a mercy!" said Chris. +"And oh, Rupert, isn't it a blessing now that we never managed to sell +Old Park, or even to let it? We shall be able to live there ourselves and +turn it into a perfect paradise." + +"He wants to buy it, eh?" Rupert glanced up keenly. + +Chris nodded. "It's only in the clouds at present. He said something +about giving it to me when we marry. But of course," rather hastily, +"we're not going to be married for ever so long. It would have to belong +to him till then. He is going to talk to you about it presently. You +wouldn't object, would you? You are entitled to your share now, he says, +and Max will come into his directly. But Noel's will have to go into +trust till he is of age." + +"An excellent idea!" declared Rupert. "I'm damnably hard up, as your +worthy _fiancé_ has probably divined. But why this notion of not getting +married for ever so long? I don't quite follow the drift of that." + +"Oh, don't be silly!" said Chris, colouring very deeply. "How could we +possibly? Everyone would say I was marrying him for his money?" + +"And that is not so?" questioned Rupert. + +"Of course it isn't!" She spoke with a vehemence almost fiery. "I--I'm +not such a pig as that!" + +"No?" He leaned his head back upon the cushion and gazed up at her +flushed face. "What are you marrying him for?" he asked. + +Chris looked back at him with a hint of defiance in her blue eyes. "What +do most people marry for?" she demanded. + +He laughed carelessly. "Heaven knows! Generally because they're stupid +asses. The men want housekeepers and the women want houses, and neither +want to pay for such luxuries. Those are the two principal reasons, if +you ask me." + +Chris jumped off the arm of his chair with an abruptness that seemed to +indicate some perturbation of spirit. She went to one of the long windows +that looked across the quiet square. + +"Those are not our reasons, anyhow," she said, after a moment, with her +back to the cynic in the chair. + +He turned his head at her words and smiled, a mischievous boyish smile +that proclaimed their relationship on the instant. + +"Ye gods!" he ejaculated. "Is it possible that you're in love with him?" + +Chris was silent. She seemed to be watching something in the road below +her with absorbing interest. + +"You needn't trouble to keep your back turned," gibed the brotherly voice +behind her. "I can see you are the colour of beetroot even at this +distance. Curious, very! But I'm glad you are so becomingly modest. It's +the first indication of the virtue that I have ever detected in you." + +"You beast!" said Chris. + +She whirled suddenly round, half-laughing, half-resentful, seized a book +from a table near, and hurled it with accurate aim at her brother's head. + +He flung up a dexterous hand and caught it just as the door opened +to admit Mordaunt, who had been asked to dine to meet his future +brother-in-law. + +Rupert was on his feet in a moment. With the book pressed against his +heart, he swept a low bow to the advancing stranger. + +"You come in the nick of time," he observed, "to preserve me from my +sister's fratricidal intentions. Perhaps you would like to arbitrate. The +offence was that I accused her of being in love--with you, of course. She +seems to think the assertion unwarrantable." + +"Oh, Trevor, don't listen!" besought Chris. "He only goes on like that +because he thinks it's clever. Do snub him as he deserves!" + +"Pray do!" said Rupert. "Begin by asking him how old he is, and whether +he knows his nine-times backwards yet. Also--" + +"Also," broke in Mordaunt, with a smile, "if he can't find something more +profitable to do than to tease his small sister." He extended a quiet +hand. "I have been wanting to make your acquaintance for some time. In +fact, I was contemplating running down to Sandacre for the purpose." + +"Very good of you," said Rupert. He dropped his chaffing air and grasped +the proffered hand with abrupt friendliness. There was something about +this man that caught his fancy. "You would be very welcome at any time. +It isn't much of a show down there, but if you don't mind that--" + +"I shouldn't come for the sake of the show," said Mordaunt. "I'd sooner +see a battalion at work than at play." + +"Ah! Wouldn't I, too!" said Rupert, with sudden fire. "We hope to be +ordered to India next year. That wouldn't be absolute stagnation, anyhow. +I loathe home work." + +Mordaunt looked at the straight young figure brimming with activity, and +decided that the more work this boy had to do the better it would be for +him morally and physically. + +"Keeps you in training," he suggested. + +"Oh, I don't know. One is apt to get unconscionably slack. It's a fool of +a world. The work is all wrongly distributed; some fellows have to work +like niggers and others that want to work never get a look in." Rupert +broke off to laugh. "I'm a discontented beggar, I tell you frankly," he +said. "But I don't expect any sympathy from you, because, being what you +are, you wouldn't reasonably be expected to understand." + +"My good fellow, I haven't always been prosperous," Mordaunt assured him. +"I've had luck, I admit. It comes to most of us in some form if we are +only sharp enough to recognize it. Perhaps it hasn't come your way yet." + +"I'll be shot if it has!" said Rupert. + +"But it will," Mordaunt maintained, "sooner or later." + +"Oh, do you believe in luck?" broke in Chris eagerly. "Because there's +the new moon coming up over the trees, and I've just seen it through +glass. Don't look, Trevor, for goodness' sake! No, no, you shan't! Shut +your eyes while I open the window. You shall see it from the balcony." + +She sprang to the window, and Mordaunt followed with an indulgent smile. + +Rupert scoffed openly. "Chris is mad on charms of every description. If +she hears a dog howl in the night she thinks there is going to be an +earthquake. You had better not encourage her, or there will be no end to +it." + +But Chris, with her _fiancé's_ hand fast in hers, was already at the +window. + +"If you don't believe in it, don't come!" she threw back over her +shoulder. "Now, Trevor, you've got to turn your money, bow three times, +and wish. Do wish for something really good to make up for my bad luck!" + +Mordaunt complied deliberately with her instructions, her hand still in +his. + +"I have wished," he announced at length. + +"Have you? What was it? Yes, you may tell me as I'm not doing any. Quick, +before Rupert comes!" + +Her eager face was close to his. He looked into the clear eyes and +paused. "I don't think I will tell you," he said finally. + +"Oh, how mean! And you would have missed the opportunity but for me!" + +He laughed quietly. "So I should. Then I shall owe it to you if it comes +true. I will let you know if it does." + +"You are sure to forget," she protested. + +"No. I am sure to remember." + +She regarded him speculatively. "I don't like secrets," she said. + +"Haven't you any of your own?" he asked. + +"No. At least--" she suddenly coloured vividly under his eyes--"none that +matter." + +He sat down upon the balustrade of the balcony, bringing his eyes on a +level with hers. "None that you wouldn't tell me," he suggested, still +faintly smiling. + +She recovered from her confusion with a quick laugh. "I shouldn't dream +of telling you--some things," she said. + +Her hand moved a little in his as though it wanted to be free, but he +held it still. He bent towards her, his grey eyes no longer searching, +only very soft and tender. + +"You will when we are married, dear," he said. + +But Chris shook her head with much decision. "Oh, no! I couldn't +possibly. You would disapprove far too much. As Aunt Philippa says, you +would be 'pained beyond expression.'" + +But Mordaunt only drew her nearer. "You--child!" he said. + +She yielded, half-protesting. "Yes, but I'm not quite a baby. I think you +ought to remember that. Shall we go back? I know Rupert is sniggering +behind the curtain." + +"I'll break his head if he is," said Mordaunt; but he let her go, as she +evidently desired, and prepared to follow her in. + +They met Rupert sauntering out "to pay his respects," as he termed it, +though, if there were any luck going, he supposed that his future +brother-in-law had secured it all. + +"Thought you didn't believe in luck," observed Mordaunt. + +"I believe in bad luck," returned Rupert pessimistically. "I only know +the other sort by hearsay." + +"Isn't he absurd?" laughed Chris. "He always talks like that. And there +are crowds of people worse off than he is." + +"Query," remarked her brother, with a shrug of the shoulders; but an +instant later, aware of Mordaunt's look, he changed the subject. + +They were a small party at dinner, for there remained but Hilda Forest to +complete the number. She had only that afternoon returned to town. Mrs. +Forest was dining out, to Chris's unfeigned relief. For Chris was in high +spirits that night, and only in her aunt's absence could she give them +full vent. + +But, if gay, she was also provokingly elusive. Mordaunt had never seen +her so effervescent, so sublimely inconsequent, or so naïvely bewitching +as she was throughout the meal. Rupert, reckless and _débonnaire_, +encouraged her wild mood. As his youngest brother expressed it, he and +Chris 'generally ran amok' when they got together. And Hilda, the sedate, +rather pensive daughter of the house, was far too gentle to restrain +them. + +It was impossible to hold aloof from such light-hearted merry-making, and +Mordaunt went with the tide. Perhaps instinct warned him that it was the +surest way to overcome that barrier of shyness, unacknowledged but none +the less existent, that kept him still a stranger to his little +_fiancée's_ confidence. Her dainty daring notwithstanding, he was aware +of the fact that she was yet half afraid of him, though when he came to +seek the cause of this he was utterly at a loss. + +When he and Rupert were left alone together after dinner, they were +already far advanced upon the road to intimacy. It was the result of his +deliberate intention; for though a girl might keep him outside her inner +sanctuary, it seldom happened in the world of men that Trevor Mordaunt +could not obtain a free pass whithersoever he cared to go. + +Rupert tossed aside his gaiety with characteristic suddenness almost as +soon as the door had closed upon his sister and cousin. + +"I suppose you want to get to business," he said abruptly. "I'm ready +when you are." + +Mordaunt moved into an easy-chair. "Yes, I want to make a suggestion," he +said deliberately. "But it is not a matter that you and I can carry +through single-handed. I want to talk about it, that's all." + +Rupert, his elbows on the table, nodded and stared rather gloomily into +his coffee-cup. "I suppose it'll take about a year to fix it up. Anything +with a lawyer in it does." + +Mordaunt watched him through his cigarette smoke for a few seconds in +silence, until in fact with a slight movement of impatience Rupert +turned. + +"I'm no good at fencing," he said, rather irritably. "You want Kellerton +Old Park, Chris tells me. Have you seen it?" + +"No." + +"Then"--he sat back with a laugh that sounded rather forced--"that ends +it," he declared. "The place has gone to rack and ruin. You can't walk up +the avenue for the thistles. They are shoulder high. And as for the +house, it's not much more than a rubbish-heap. It would cost more than +it's worth to make it habitable. We have been trying to get rid of the +place ever since my father's death, but it's no manner of use. People get +let in by the agent's description and go and see it, but they all come +away shuddering. You'll do the same." + +"I shall certainly go and see it," Mordaunt said. "Perhaps I shall +persuade Chris to motor down with me some day. But in any case, if you +are selling--I'm buying." + +Rupert jumped up suddenly. "I won't take you seriously till you've seen +it," he declared. + +"Oh yes, you will," Mordaunt returned imperturbably. "Because, you see, I +am serious. But we haven't come to business yet. I want to know what +price you are asking for this ancestral dwelling of yours." + +"We would take almost anything," Rupert said. + +He had begun to fidget about the room with a restlessness that was +feverish. Mordaunt remained in his easy-chair, calmly smoking, obviously +awaiting the information for which he had asked. + +"Almost anything," Rupert repeated, halting at the table to drink some +coffee. + +The hand that held the cup was not over-steady. Mordaunt's eyes rested +upon it thoughtfully. + +"I should like to know," he said, after a moment. + +Rupert gulped his coffee and looked down at him. "Murchison said ten +thousand when my father died," he said. "He would probably begin by +saying ten now, but he would end by taking five." + +"Murchison is your solicitor?" + +"And trustee up to a year ago." + +"I see." Mordaunt reached for his own coffee. "And you? You think ten +thousand would be a fair price?" + +Rupert broke again into his uneasy laugh. "I think it would be an +infernal swindle," he said. + +"I will talk it over with Mr. Murchison," Mordaunt said quietly. "I only +wanted to be sure that you were quite willing to sell before doing so." + +Rupert took a turn up the room. He looked thoroughly ill-at-ease. Coming +back, he halted by the mantelpiece and began to drum a difficult tattoo +upon the marble. + +"I don't want you to be let in by Murchison," he said suddenly. "You will +find him damnably plausible. If he thinks you really want the place he +will squeeze you like a sponge." + +"Thanks for the warning!" There was a note of amusement in Mordaunt's +voice. He finished his coffee and rose. "You have done your best to +handicap your man of business, but I think he will get his price in spite +of it. You see, I really do want the place." + +"Without seeing it!" + +"Yes." + +Rupert whizzed round on his heels, and faced him. "Sounds +rather--eccentric," he suggested. + +Mordaunt smiled in his quiet, detached way. "I can afford to be +eccentric," he said. "And now look here, Wyndham. You said something just +now about having to wait a year to fix things up. I don't see the +necessity for that, situated as we are. Since you are willing that I +should buy Kellerton Old Park, and since we are agreed upon the price, I +see no reason to delay payment. I will write you a cheque for your share +to-night." + +"What?" said Rupert. + +He stood up very straight, staring at the man before him as if he were an +entirely novel specimen of the human race. + +"Is it a joke?" he asked at length. + +Mordaunt flicked the ash from his cigarette without looking at him. +Perhaps he felt that he had studied him long enough. + +"No," he said. "I don't see any point in jokes of that sort. Of course, I +know it's not business, but the arrangement is entirely between +ourselves. I don't see why even Murchison should be let into it. We can +settle it later without taking him into our confidence." + +"It's a loan, then?" said Rupert quickly. + +"If you like to call it so." + +"May as well call it by its name," the boy returned bluntly. "You're +deuced generous, Mr. Mordaunt." + +"I know what it is to be hard up," Mordaunt answered. "And since we are +to be brothers we may as well behave as such, eh--Rupert?" + +Rupert's hand came out and gripped his impulsively. For a second he +seemed to be at a loss for words, then burst into headlong speech. + +"Look here! I think I ought to tell you, before you take us in hand to +that extent, that we're a family of rotters. We're not one of us sound. +Oh, I'm not talking about Chris. She's a girl. But the rest of us are +below par, slackers. Our father was the same. There's bad blood +somewhere. You are bound to find it out sooner or later, so you may as +well know it now." + +Mordaunt's grey eyes looked his full in the face. "Is that intended as a +warning not to expect too much?" he asked. + +Rupert's eyelids twitched a little under that direct look. "Yes," he said +briefly. + +"And if I don't listen to warnings of that description?" + +"You will probably get let down." + +Rupert spoke recklessly, yet almost as if he could not help it. +Undoubtedly there was something magnetic about Trevor Mordaunt at times, +something that compelled. He was conscious of relief when the steady eyes +ceased to scrutinize him. + +"Not by you, I think," Mordaunt said, with his quiet smile. "You may be a +rotter, my boy, but you are not one of the crooked sort." + +"I've never robbed anyone, if that's what you mean." Rupert's laugh had +in it a note of bitterness that was unconsciously pathetic. "But I'm up +to the eyes in debt and pretty desperate. If I could have persuaded +Murchison to raise money on the estate, I'd have done it long ago. That's +why this offer of yours seemed too good to be true." + +Mordaunt nodded. "I thought so. It's foul work floundering in that sort +of quagmire. I wonder now if you will allow me to have a look into your +affairs, or if you prefer to go to the devil your own way." + +Rupert coloured and threw back his shoulders, but he did not take +offence. The leisurely proposal held none. "I'm not over keen on going to +the devil," he said. "But neither am I going to let you pay my debts, +thanks all the same." + +Mordaunt glanced at him and smiled. "I think you will cancel that 'but,'" +he said, "in view of our future relationship." + +Rupert hesitated, obviously wavering. "It's jolly decent of you," he said +boyishly. "You make it confoundedly difficult to refuse." + +"You are not going to refuse," said Mordaunt. "No one knows better +than I do that it's ten times pleasanter to give than to receive. But +that--between friends--is not a point worth considering." + +"I should think you have a good many friends," said Rupert. + +"I believe I have." + +"Well,"--the boy spoke with a tinge of feeling beneath his +banter--"you've added to the list to-night, and I wish you joy of your +acquisition! But don't say I didn't warn you." + +"No," said Mordaunt quietly. "I won't say that." He added a moment later, +as he dropped the end of his cigarette into his coffee-cup, "I believe in +my friends, Rupert." + +"Till they let you down," suggested Rupert. + +"They never do." + +"Then allow me to say that you are one of the luckiest fellows I have +ever met." + +"Perhaps." + +"And the best," Rupert added impulsively. + +There was a moment's silence, then, "Shall we join the ladies?" suggested +Trevor Mordaunt, in a tone that sounded rather bored. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DOUBTS + + +"He's nice, isn't he?" said Chris. + +She was seated on a hassock close to her cousin's knee, a favourite +position of hers. + +Hilda's fingers fondled the sunny hair. Her eyes looked thoughtful. "I am +so glad for you, dear," she said. + +"I knew you would be," chuckled Chris. "Aunt Philippa is delighted too. +It's the first time I've ever known her pleased with me. It feels so +funny. Ah! There is my sweet Cinders! I must just let him in." + +She sprang up to admit her favourite, whose imperious scratch at the door +testified to the fact that he was not accustomed to being kept waiting. +There ensued a tender if somewhat pointless conversation between himself +and his mistress before she returned to her seat and her confidences. + +"Did you ever refuse to marry anybody, Hilda?" she wanted to know then. + +"Yes, dear." + +"Many?" + +"Three," said Hilda. + +"Goodness!" Chris looked up with shining eyes of admiration. "How ever +did you do it?" + +"I wasn't in love with them," said Hilda simply. + +"Oh! And you are in love with Percy?" + +"Yes, dear." Again with the utmost simplicity the elder girl made answer. + +"How nice!" said Chris. "But I can't think how you knew," she said, after +a moment. + +Hilda leaned forward to look into the clear eyes. A faint gleam of +anxiety showed for a moment in her own. "But surely you know, Chris!" she +said. + +"I!" said Chris, with a gay shake of the head. "Oh, no, I don't. You +know, I don't believe it's in me to fall in love in the ordinary way. I +was quite angry with Rupert only this evening for jeering at me, as if I +were. Oh, no, Hilda, I'm not in love like that." + +"But, my dear--" Hilda looked down in grave perplexity, not unmixed with +apprehension. + +Chris leaned back against her quite unconcernedly, her hands clasped +round her knees, and laughed like an elf. "Darling, don't look at me like +that! It's too funny. Don't you know that it's only you staid, good +people who ever fall in love properly? The rest of us only pretend. +That's where the romance comes in." + +"But, dear, Trevor Mordaunt is in love with you," Hilda reminded her +gently. + +"Oh yes," said Chris, "I know. That's why I had to accept him. I don't +believe even you could have said No to him." + +Hilda's face cleared a little. She pinched the soft cheek nearest to her. +"After that, don't talk to me about not being in love!" + +"Oh, but really I don't think I am," Chris assured her quite seriously. +"I have only once in my life met anyone with whom I could possibly +imagine myself falling in love. And he was not a bit like Trevor." + +"What was he like?" asked Hilda. "A sort of fancy person? Or someone out +of a book?" + +"Oh no, he was quite real--the nicest man." A faraway look came into +Chris's eyes; she suddenly spoke very softly as one in the presence of a +vision. "I think--I am not sure--that he belonged to the old French +_noblesse_. He was not tall, but beautifully made, just right in every +way, and very handsome, with eyes that laughed--the sort of man one +dreams of, but never meets." + +"And yet he was real," Hilda said. + +"Oh yes, he was real. But it was ages and ages ago. He may have changed +by this time. He may even be dead--my _preux chevalier_." Chris came out +of her dream with a shaky little laugh. "Ah, well, I've given up crying +for him," she said. "Anyhow it was only a game. Let's talk of something +else." + +"It was the man at Valpré," said Hilda. + +"Yes, it was the man at Valpré. I never told you about him, did I? I +never told anyone. Somehow I couldn't. People made such a horrid fuss. +But the very thought of him used to make me cry at one time. Wasn't it +silly? But I missed him so. I couldn't help it. We won't talk about him +any more. It makes me melancholy. Hilda, wouldn't it be a novel idea if +your bridesmaids carried fans instead of Prayer Books? You could have the +marriage service printed on them in gold with illuminated capitals. Would +Aunt Philippa think it immoral, do you think?" + +To anyone who did not know Chris this sudden change might have seemed +bewildering; but Hilda was never taken unawares by her swift transitions. +She did not even deem her flippant, as did her mother. For Chris was very +dear to her. She knew and loved her in all her lightning moods. It was +possible that even she did not wholly understand her, but she was nearer +to doing so than any other in Chris's world just then. + +When Chris danced across to the piano and began her favourite waltz to +the accompaniment of muffled howls from Cinders, she knew that the hour +for confidences was past. Nor had she any desire to prolong it, for it +seemed better to her to leave the hero of Chris's girlhood in obscurity. +She had not the smallest doubt that her young cousin invested him with +all the glamour of a vivid imagination. He was fashioned of the substance +of dreams, and she fancied that Chris herself was more than half aware of +this. + +But still her faint misgiving did not wholly die away. Though Trevor +Mordaunt had secured for himself the girl of his choice, she could not +suppress a grave doubt as to whether he had yet succeeded in winning her +heart. He would ultimately win it; she felt convinced of that. He was a +man who was bound sooner or later to rule supreme. And thus she strove to +reassure herself; but still, in spite of her, the doubt remained. Chris +was so young, so gay, so innocent. She could not bear to think of the +troubles and perplexities of womanhood descending upon her. She was so +essentially made for the joy of life. + +She sat and watched her unperceived, the slim young figure in the shaded +lamplight, the shining hair, the slender neck--all vivid, instinct with +life; and she comprehended the witchery that had caught Mordaunt's heart. +Of the man himself she knew but little. He was not expansive, and +circumstances had not thrown them together. But what she knew of him she +liked. She was aware that her brother valued his friendship very +highly--a friendship begun on a South African battlefield; and though +they had met but seldom since, the intimacy between them had remained +unshaken. + +Trevor Mordaunt was a man of many friends--friends in all ranks and of +many nationalities. No one knew quite how he made them; no one ever saw +his friendships in the making. But all over the world were men who hailed +his coming with pleasure and saw him go with regret. + +She supposed him capable of a vast sympathy, a wide understanding. It +seemed the only explanation. But would he understand her little Chris? +she wondered. Would he make full allowance for her dear caprices, her +whimsical fancies, her butterfly temperament? Would he ever thread his +way through these fairy defences to that hidden shrine where throbbed her +woman's heart? And would he be the first to enter there? She hoped so; +she prayed so. + +"Hilda"--imperiously the gay voice broke through her reverie--"if Percy +wants to know what sort of pendants to give the bridesmaids, be sure you +say turquoise and pearl. It's most important." + +She was still strumming her waltz, and did not hear Mordaunt enter behind +her. + +"I saw a most lovely thing to-day," she went on. "One of those +heart-shaped things that are still hearts even if you turn them upside +down." + +"Is that an advantage?" asked Mordaunt. + +She whizzed round on the music-stool. "Trevor! I wish you wouldn't make +me jump. Of course it is an advantage if a thing never looks wrong way +up. You will remember, won't you, Hilda? Turquoise and pearl." + +"Are you going to be chief mourner?" asked Rupert. + +"Don't be horrid! I'm going to be chief bridesmaid, if that's what you +mean?" + +"And turquoise and pearl is to be the order of the day?" queried +Mordaunt. + +"A white muslin frock and a blue sash, I suppose," supplemented Rupert. +"Hair worn long and tied with a blue bow rather bigger than an +ordinary-sized sunshade. No shoes and no stockings, but some pale blue +sandals over white lace socks. Result--ravishing!" + +Chris glanced round for a missile, found none, so decided to ignore him. + +"Yes," she said to her _fiancé_, "and we are going to carry bouquets of +wheat and cornflowers." + +"Sounds like the ingredients of a pudding," said Rupert. + +Chris rose from the piano in disgust, and her brother instantly slipped +into her place. "I say, Hilda," he called, "come and sing! There's no one +to listen to you but me; but that's a detail. Trevor and Christina, pray +consider yourselves excused." + +"We don't want to be excused," said Chris mutinously "Do stop, Rupert! +Cinders doesn't like it." + +Rupert, however, was already crashing through Mendelssohn's Wedding +March, and turned a deaf ear. She picked the discontented one up to +comfort him, and as she did so Trevor moved up to her. He stood beside +her for a few seconds, stroking the dog's soft head. + +Chris looked hot and uncomfortable, as if Rupert's music pounded on her +nerves; but yet she would not make a move. She stood hushing Cinders as +if he had been an infant. + +"Shall we go outside?" Mordaunt said at last. + +She shook her head. + +"Come!" he said gently. + +She turned without a word, laid the dog tenderly in a chair, whispered to +him, kissed him, and went to the open window. + +They stepped out together, and the curtains met behind them. + +The moon had passed out of sight behind the houses, but the sky was +alight with stars. A faint breeze trembled through the trees in the quiet +square garden, and the faint, wonderful essence of summer came from them. +From a distance sounded the roar of countless wheels--the deep chorus of +London's traffic. + +They stood side by side in silence while behind them Rupert played the +Wedding March to a triumphant end. Then quiet descended, and there came a +long pause. + +Chris broke it at last, moved, and shyly spoke. "Trevor!" + +"What is it, dear?" + +She drew slightly towards him, and at once he put a quiet arm about her. +"I want to tell you something," she said. + +"Something serious?" he questioned. + +"I--I don't know." A faint note of distress sounded in her voice. She +laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder with a very confiding +gesture. "I'm not quite happy," she said. + +He held her closer. "Tell me, Chris!" he said very tenderly. + +She uttered a little laugh that had a sob in it. "It's only that--that I +can't help feeling that you're making rather a bad bargain. You know, the +other day--when--when you proposed to me--I didn't have time to think. +I've been thinking since." + +"Yes?" he said. + +"Yes. And now and then--only now and then--I feel rather bad. I--I like +fair play, Trevor. It isn't right for me to take so much and give--so +little." Her voice quivered perceptibly, and she ceased to speak. He +pressed her closer to him, but he remained silent for several seconds. + +At last, "Chris," he said, "will it comfort you to know that what you +call a little is to me the greatest thing on earth?" + +His voice was deep and very quiet, yet a tremor went through her at his +words. + +"That's just what frightens me," she said. + +"It shouldn't frighten you," he said. "It need not." + +"But it does," said Chris. + +He was silent for another space, still holding her closely. In the room +behind them they could hear the cousins talking; but they were alone +together, shut off, as it were, from ordinary converse, alone under the +stars. + +"Suppose," said Mordaunt gently, "you leave off thinking for a bit, and +take things as they come." + +"Yes?" she said rather dubiously. + +He bent down to her. "Chris, I will never ask more of you than you are +able to give." + +She moved at that in her quick, impulsive way, reached up and clasped his +neck. "Oh, Trevor, I do love you!" she said, with a catch in her voice. +"I do want you to have--the best!" + +Her face was raised to his. For the first time she offered him her lips. +They were nearer to understanding each other at that moment than they had +ever been before. + +But as he bent lower to kiss her the notes of the piano floated out to +them again, this time in a soft melody, inexpressibly sweet, full of a +subtle charm, the fairy gold of romance. + +She kissed him indeed--and it was the first kiss she had ever given him; +but he felt her stiffen in his hold even as she did it. And the next +moment, almost with passion, she spoke-- + +"I wish Rupert wouldn't play that thing! He knows--he knows--that I can't +bear it!" + +"What is it?" Mordaunt asked in surprise. + +She answered him with a laugh that did not ring quite true. "It is the +'_Aubade à la Fiancée_.' He is only playing it to torment us. Let us go +in and stop him!" + +She turned inwards with the words, disengaging herself from his arm as +casually as she might have pushed aside a chair. Mordaunt followed her in +silence. There were no further confidences between them that night. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DE PROFUNDIS + + +It was pouring with rain, and the man with the flute at the corner +shivered and pulled his rags more closely about him. He had not been +lucky that day, or, indeed, for many days, as the haggard eyes that +stared out of his white face testified. + +He had spent the past three nights in the open, but to-night--to-night +was cruelly wet. He questioned with himself what he should do. + +In his pocket was that which might procure a night's lodging or a meagre +supper; but it would not supply both. He had to decide between the two, +unless he elected to go on playing till midnight in the drenching rain on +the chance of augmenting his scanty store. + +Though it was June, he was chilled to the bone. In the intervals between +his flute-playing his teeth chattered. He looked horribly ill, but no one +had noticed that. Men who wander about the streets with musical +instruments seldom have a prosperous appearance. Passers-by may fling +them a copper if they have one handy, but otherwise they do not even look +at them. There are so many of these luckless ones, and each looks more +wretched than the last. Most of them look degraded also, but, save for +his rags, this man did not. There was a foreign air about him, but he did +not look the type of foreigner that lives upon English charity. There was +nothing hang-dog about him. He only looked exhausted and miserable. + +At the suggestion of a policeman he abandoned his corner. After all, he +was doing no good there. It was not worth a protest. He turned and +trudged up a side-street, with head bent to the rain. + +It was growing late, high time to seek some shelter for the night if that +were his intention. But he pressed on aimlessly with dragging feet. +Perhaps he had not yet decided whether to perish from cold or hunger, or +perhaps he regarded the choice as of small importance. Possibly even, he +had forgotten that there was a choice to be made. + +The street he travelled was deserted, but he heard the buzz of a motor at +a cross-road, and mechanically almost he moved towards it. He was not +quite master of himself or his sensations. He may have vaguely remembered +that there is sometimes money to be earned by opening the door of a taxi, +but it was not with this definite end in view that he took his way. For, +as he went, he put his flute once more to his lips, and poured a sudden, +silvery melody--the "_Aubade à la Fiancée_"--that a young French officer +had onced hummed so gaily among the rocks of Valpré--into the rain and +the darkness. + +It began firm and sweet as the notes of a thrush, exquisitely delicate, +with the high ecstasy that only music can express. It swelled into a +positive paen of rejoicing, eager, wonderful, almost unearthly in its +purity. It ended in a confused jumble like the glittering fragments of a +beautiful thing shattered to atoms at a blow. And there fell a silence +broken only by the throbbing of the taxi, and the drip, drip, drip, of +the rain. + +The taxi came to a stand close to the lamp-post against which the +flute-player leaned, but he made no move to open the door. The light +flared on his ashen face, showing it curiously apathetic. His instrument +dangled from one nerveless hand. + +A man in evening dress stepped from the taxi. His look fell upon the +wretched figure that huddled against the lamppost. For a single instant +their eyes met. Then abruptly the new-comer wheeled to pay his fare. + +"He's in for a wet night by the looks of him," observed the chauffeur +facetiously. + +"The gentleman is a friend of mine," curtly responded the man in evening +dress. + +And the taxi-cab driver, being quite at a loss, shot away into the +darkness to hide his discomfiture. + +The flute-player straightened himself with a manifest effort and turned +away. If he had heard the words, he had not comprehended them. His wits +seemed to be wandering that night, but he would not even seem to beg an +alms. + +But a hand on his shoulder detained him. "Monsieur de Montville!" a quiet +voice said. + +He jerked round, bringing his heels together with instinctive precision. +Again, in the glare of the lamp-post their eyes met. + +"I have not--the pleasure," he muttered stiffly. + +"My name is Mordaunt," the other told him gravely. "You will remember me +presently, though not probably by name. Come in out of the rain. It is +impossible to talk here." + +He spoke with a certain insistence. His hand held the Frenchman's arm. It +was obvious that he would listen to no refusal. And the man in rags +attempted none. He went with him meekly, as if bewildered into docility. +His single flash of pride had died out like the final flicker of a match. + +With the Englishman's hand supporting him, he stumbled up a flight of +steps that led to the door of one of the houses in the quiet street, +waited till the turning of a latch-key opened the door, and again numbly +yielded to the steady insistence that drew him within. + +He stood on a mat under a glaring electric lamp. The wet streamed down +him in rivulets; he was drenched to the skin. + +Mechanically he pulled the cap from his head and tried to still his +chattering teeth. His lips were blue. + +"This way," said the quiet voice. "Take my arm." + +"But I am so damp, monsieur," he protested shakily. "It will make you +damp also." + +"What of it? I daresay I shall survive it if you do." Very kindly the +voice made answer. He could not see the speaker plainly, for his brain +was in a whirl. He even wondered in a dull fashion if it were all a +dream, and if he would wake in a moment from his uneasy slumber to hear +the rain splashing down the gutters and the voice of a constable in his +ear bidding him move on. + +He went up a flight of stairs, moving almost without his own volition, +the Englishman's arm around him, urging him upwards. + +They came to the threshold of a room of which Mordaunt switched on the +light at entering, and in a moment more the tottering Frenchman found +himself pressed down into a chair. He covered his face with his hands and +sat motionless, trying to still the confusion in his brain. He was +shivering violently from head to foot. + +There followed a pause of some duration, during which he must have been +alone; then again his unknown friend touched him, patted his shoulder, +spoke. + +"Here's a hot drink. You will feel better when you have had it. +Afterwards you shall go to bed." + +He raised his head and stared about him. Mordaunt, holding a cup of +steaming milk that gave out a strong aroma of brandy, was stooping over +him. There was another man in the room, evidently a servant, engaged in +kindling a fire. + +Slowly the vagabond's gaze focussed itself upon Mordaunt's face. He saw +it clearly for the first time and gave a slight start of recognition. + +"I have seen you before," he muttered, frowning uncertainly. "Where? +Where?" + +"Never mind now," returned the Englishman gently. "Drink this. You need +it." + +He lifted a shaking hand and dropped it again. All the strength seemed to +have gone out of him. + +"Monsieur will pardon my feebleness," he murmured almost inarticulately. +"I am--a little--fatigued. It is nothing. It will pass." + +"Drink!" Mordaunt said insistently. + +He held the rim of the cup against the trembling lips, and perforce the +Frenchman drank, at first slowly, then with avidity, till at last he +clasped the cup in both his quivering hands and drained it. + +His eyes sought Mordaunt's apologetically as he gave it back. The apathy +had gone out of them. They looked out of his pinched face with +brightening intelligence. His lips were no longer blue. + +"Ah!" he said, with a deep breath. "But how it was good, monsieur!" + +He glanced downwards, discovered himself to be sitting in a +chintz-covered chair, and blundered hastily to his feet. + +"Tenez!" he exclaimed almost incoherently. "But how I forget! See, I +have--I have--" + +He groped out before him suddenly, words failing him, and only Mordaunt's +promptitude spared him a headlong fall. + +"Bit light-headed, sir?" suggested the servant, glancing round with an +inscrutable countenance. + +"No, he'll be all right. Go and turn on the hot water," said Mordaunt. + +To the Frenchman as the man departed he spoke as to an equal. "Monsieur +de Montville, I am offering you the hospitality of a friend, and I hope +you will accept it. In the morning if you are well enough we will talk +things over. But to-night you are not fit for anything beyond a hot bath +and bed." + +The Frenchman nodded. Certainly his senses were returning to him. His +eyes were growing brighter every instant. "It is true," he said. "I was +ill. But your--so great--kindness has revived me. I will not, then, +trespass upon you longer, except to render to you a thousand thanks. I am +well now. I will go." + +"No," Mordaunt said gently. "You will stay here till morning. You are not +well. You are feverish. And the sooner you get to bed the better. Come! +We are not strangers. Need we behave as if we were?" + +Again de Montville looked at him doubtfully. "I wish that I could +recall--" he said. + +"You will presently," Mordaunt assured him. "In the meantime, it really +doesn't matter, and it is not the time for explanations. I am very glad +to have met you. You surely will not refuse to be my guest for a few +hours." + +He spoke with the utmost kindness, but also with inflexible +determination. The Frenchman still looked dubious, but quite obviously he +did not feel equal to a battle of wills with his resolute host. He +uttered a sigh and said no more. + +He firmly declined the assistance of Mordaunt's man, however, and it was +Mordaunt himself who waited upon him, ignoring protest, till his +shivering _protégé_ was safe in bed. + +He seemed to resign himself to his fate then, being too exhausted to do +otherwise. A heavy drowsiness came upon him, and he very soon fell into a +doze. + +Mordaunt sat in an adjoining room, opening and answering letters. His +demeanour was quite serene. Save that he paused now and then and leaned +back in his chair to listen, there was nothing about him to indicate that +anything unusual had taken place. + +It was nearing midnight when his man came softly in with a cup of +beef-tea. + +"All right, Holmes! I'll see to him. You can go to bed," he said then. + +Holmes paused. "I've made up the bed in the spare-room, sir," he said. + +"Oh, thanks! I shall not want it though. I will sleep on the sofa here." + +"Very good, sir." Holmes still paused. He never expressed surprise at +anything his master saw fit to do; he only did his utmost to give his +proceedings as normal an aspect as possible. His acquaintance with +Mordaunt also dated from a South African battlefield; they knew each +other very well indeed. + +"I was only thinking to myself," he said, in answer to Mordaunt's look, +"I could just as easy attend to the gentleman as you could, sir. I'm more +or less up in night duty, as you might say, and I'll guarantee as he +wants for nothing if you'll put him in my charge." + +Holmes had been a hospital orderly in his time, and Mordaunt knew him to +be absolutely trustworthy in a responsible position. Nevertheless he +declined the offer. + +"Very good of you, Holmes! But I would rather you went to bed. I +shouldn't be turning in yet in any case. I have work to do. I don't fancy +he will give any trouble. If he does, I will call you." + +Holmes withdrew without further argument, and a few minutes later +Mordaunt, armed with the beef-tea, went to his guest's bedside. + +He found him dozing, but he awoke at once, looking up with fever-bright +eyes to greet him. + +"Ah! but you are too good--too good," he said. "And I have no hunger now. +I am only yet a little fatigued. I shall repose myself, and I shall find +myself well." + +"Yes, you will be better after a sleep," Mordaunt said. "You shall settle +down when you have had this, and sleep the clock round." + +He was aware once more of the Frenchman's puzzled eyes watching him as he +submissively took the nourishment, but he paid no heed to them. It was +not his intention to encourage any discussion just then. + +Outside, the rain pattered incessantly, beating against the windows. At a +sudden gust of hail de Montville shivered. + +"Monsieur," he said, choosing his words with care, "your great kindness +is such as I can never hope to repay, but permit me to assure you that my +gratitude will constrain me to regard myself your debtor till death. If +it is ever in my power to serve you, I will render that service, cost +what it may. You have called me by my name. It appears that you know me?" + +He paused for an answer. + +"Yes, I know you," Mordaunt said. + +"And for that you extend to me the hand of friendship?" questioned the +Frenchman, his quick eyes still searching the Englishman's quiet face. + +Mordaunt's eyes looked gravely back. "I also happen to believe in you," +he said. "Otherwise I should probably have helped you because you needed +it; but I most certainly should not have brought you here." + +"Ah!" Sudden understanding flashed into de Montville's face; he leaned +forward, stuttering with eagerness. "You--you--I know you now! I know +you! You are the English journalist, the man who believed in me even +against reason, against evidence--in spite of all! I remember you +well--well! I remember your eyes. They sent me a message. They gave me +courage. They told me that you knew--that you were my friend--the only +friend, monsieur, that was not ashamed of me. And I thanked _le bon Dieu_ +that night--that terrible night--simply because I had looked into your +eyes." + +He broke off in quivering agitation. Trevor Mordaunt's hand was on his +shoulder. "Easy--easy!" the quiet voice said. "You are exciting yourself, +my dear fellow, and you mustn't. You must go to sleep. This matter will +very well keep till morning." + +De Montville's face was hidden in his shaking hands. "If I could thank +you--if I could make you comprehend--" he murmured brokenly. + +"I do comprehend. I comprehend perfectly." Mordaunt's voice was soothing +now, almost motherly. He stroked the bent shoulders with a consoling +touch. "Come, man! You are used up; you are ill. Lie down and rest." + +He coaxed his forlorn guest down upon the pillows again and drew the +bedclothes over him. Then for a space he sat beside him, divining that he +would recover his self-command more quickly with him there than left to +his own devices. + +A nervous hand, bony as a skeleton's, came hesitatingly forth to him at +length, and he gripped and held it for several quiet seconds more. + +Finally he rose. "I'll leave you now. If you are wanting anything, you +have only to ask for it. I shall be in the next room. Quite comfortable?" + +Yes, he was quite comfortable. He assured him of this in unsteady tones, +and begged that Mr. Mordaunt would give himself no further trouble on his +account. He would sleep--he would sleep. + +As the assurance was uttered somewhat incoherently, through lips half +closed, Mordaunt judged that he could be trusted to carry out this +intention, and so left him, to return to his writing-table in the +adjoining room. + +Ten minutes later he crept back noiselessly and found him in a deep +sleep. He stood a moment to watch him, and noted with compassion a faint, +pathetic smile that rested on the worn features. + +But he did not guess that Bertrand de Montville had returned in his +dreams to a land of enchantment, where the sun was always shining, and +the sea was at peace, even that land where first he had forgotten the +great goal of his ambition and had halted by the way to listen to a +girl's light laughter while he drew for her his pictures in the sand. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ENGAGED + + +"My dear Trevor, do let me warn you against making yourself in any way +responsible for Chris's brothers." + +Mrs. Forest spoke impressively. She was rather fond of warning people. It +was in a fashion her attitude towards life. + +"You will find," she continued, "that Chris herself will need a firm +hand--a very firm hand. Though so young, she is not, I fear, very +pliable. I have known her do the most unheard-of things, chiefly, I must +admit, from excess of spirits. They all suffer from that upon occasion. +It is a most difficult thing to cope with." + +"But not a very serious failing," said Mordaunt, with his tolerant smile. + +"It leads to very serious complications sometimes," said Mrs. Forest, in +the tone of one who could reveal much were she so minded. + +But Mordaunt did not seem to hear. His eyes had wandered to a light +figure in the doorway--a girl with wonderful hair that shimmered like +burnished copper, and eyes that were blue as a summer sea. It was a +Sunday afternoon, and several people had dropped in to tea. The +engagement had been announced the previous day, and Mordaunt had dropped +in also to give his young _fiancée_ the benefit of his support. Chris, +however, was not, to judge by appearances, needing any support. She +seemed, in fact, to be frankly enjoying herself. The high spirits which +her aunt deplored were very much in evidence at that moment. Her gay +laugh reached him where he sat. Being engaged was evidently the greatest +fun. + +"They are all like that," continued Mrs. Forest, with her air of one +fulfilling an unpleasant duty--"all except Max, who is frankly +objectionable. Gay, _débonnaire_, fascinating, I grant you, but so +deplorably unstable. Those boys--well, I have never dared to encourage +them here, for I know too well what it would mean. If you are really +thinking of buying their old home for yourself and Chris, do be on your +guard or you will never keep them at arms' length." + +"Kellerton Old Park will be Chris's property exclusively," Mordaunt +replied gravely. "If she cares to have her brothers there, she will be +quite at liberty to do so." + +"My dear Trevor, you are far too kind," protested Mrs. Forest. "I see you +are going to spoil them right and left. They will simply live on you if +you do that. You won't find yourself master in your own house." + +"No?" said Mordaunt, with a smile. + +Chris was coming towards him. He rose to meet her. + +"Oh, Trevor," she said eagerly, "I can go down to Kellerton with you +to-morrow, and Max has written to say he will join us there. I am so glad +he can get away. I haven't seen him since Christmas." + +"Isn't he coming to your birthday party?" asked Jack Forest, strolling up +at that moment. + +He addressed Chris, but he looked at his mother, who, after the briefest +pause, made reply, "Of course Chris can ask whom she likes." + +"Oh, can I?" exclaimed Chris. "How heavenly! Then I will get Rupert to +come too. I wish Noel might, but I suppose he is out of the question." + +She slipped a hand surreptitiously inside Jack's arm as her aunt moved +away, and squeezed it. She knew quite well that the party itself had been +of his devising--an informal dance to celebrate her twenty-first +birthday, which was less than a fortnight away. + +Jack smiled upon her indulgently. "Are you going to ask me to your +birthday party, Chris?" + +"No," said Chris. "I shall never ask you anywhere. You have a free pass +always so far as I am concerned." + +He made her a low bow. "You listening, Trevor? I'll bet she never said +that to you." + +But Chris turned swiftly away towards her _fiancé_. "There is no need to +say anything of that sort to Trevor," she said, in her quick way. "He +understands without." + +"Thank you," said Trevor quietly. + +Jack laughed. "One to you, my boy! I admit it frankly. By the way, I +heard a funny story about you yesterday. Someone said you were turning +your rooms in Clive Street into a home for sick organ-grinders. Is it +true by any chance?" + +"Not strictly," said Mordaunt. + +"Nor strictly untrue either," commented Jack. "I know the sort of thing. +You are always doing it. Was it a child or a woman or a monkey this +time?" + +"It was a man," said Mordaunt. + +"A man! A friend of yours, I suppose?" Jack smiled over the phrase. He +had heard it on Mordaunt's lips more than once. + +"Exactly. A friend of mine." The tone of Mordaunt's reply did not +encourage further inquiries. + +Chris, glancing at him, saw a slight frown between his brows, and +promptly changed the subject. + +"It's really rather good of Aunt Philippa to let me have the boys here," +she said later, when they were alone together for a moment just before he +took his departure. "She never gets on with them, especially Max. Of +course it's partly his fault. I hope you will like each other, Trevor." + +By which sentence Trevor divined that this was her favourite brother. + +"We shall get on all right," he said. + +"It isn't everyone that likes Max," she said. "But he's tremendously nice +really, and very clever. What time will you be here to-morrow? I must try +not to keep you waiting." + +But of course when the morning came she did keep him waiting. With the +best intentions, Chris seldom managed to be ready for anything. And +Mordaunt had nearly half an hour to wait before she joined him. + +She raced down at last with airy apology. "I'm very sorry really. But it +was Cinders' fault. We went to be photographed, and I couldn't get him to +sit at the right angle. And then when I got back I had to dress, and +everything went wrong." + +She was carrying Cinders under her arm and evidently meant him to join +their expedition. She did not look as if everything had gone wrong with +her, neither did she look particularly penitent. She laughed up at him +merrily, and he--because he could not help it--drew her to him and kissed +her. + +"Oh, but you should kiss Cinders too," she said. "I love kissing Cinders. +He is like satin." + +"If we don't start we shall never get there," observed Mordaunt. + +"What an obvious remark!" laughed Chris. "Let's start at once. I hope you +are going to scorch. Wouldn't it be funny if the motor broke down and we +had to spend the night under a hedge? We should enjoy that, shouldn't we, +Cinders? We would pretend we were gipsies or organ-grinders. Oh, Trevor, +it is a sweet motor! Do let me drive!" + +"While I sit behind with Cinders?" he said. "Thanks very much, but I'd +rather not. Do you think we want Cinders, by the way?" + +She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. Her motor-bonnet gave her a +very babyish appearance. She hugged her favourite to her as she might +have hugged a doll. + +"Of course we want Cinders! Why, he has been looking forward to it for +ever so long. Kellerton is home to him, you know." + +"Oh, very well! Jump in," said Mordaunt, with resignation. "Are you going +to sit beside me?" + +"Of course we are. We can see better in front. Oh, Trevor, I am horrid. I +quite forgot to thank you for that lovely, lovely ring. I'm wearing it +round my neck, because I had to wash Cinders this morning, and I was +afraid of hurting it. I've never worn a ring before. And it was so dear +of you to remember that I liked turquoise and pearl. I was furious with +Aunt Philippa because--" She broke off abruptly. + +Mordaunt was starting the motor, but as they skimmed smoothly away he +spoke. "Aunt Philippa thought it ought to have been diamonds, I suppose?" + +"Well, yes," Chris admitted, turning very red. "But I--I didn't agree +with her. Diamonds are not to be compared with pearls." + +"You are not old enough for diamonds, dear," he said. "I will give you +diamonds later." + +"Oh, but I don't want any." Shyly her hand pressed his knee. "Please +don't give me too much, Trevor," she said. "I shall never dare to ask for +the things I really want if you do. Aunt Philippa thinks I'm getting +horribly spoilt as it is." + +"I don't," he said. + +"How nice of you, Trevor! Do you know I'm so happy to-day, I want to +sing." + +"You may sing to your heart's content when we get out into the country," +he said. + +She laughed. "No, no! Cinders would howl. How cleverly you drive! You +will teach me some day, won't you? Do you know, I dreamt I was driving +your organ-grinder last night. Do tell me about him. Is he really a +friend of yours?" + +"Yes, really, Chris." + +"How exciting!" said Chris, keenly interested. "And what are you going to +do with him?" + +"I haven't decided at present. He has had a pretty bad spell of +starvation. I don't know yet what he is fit for." + +"It must be dreadful to starve," said Chris soberly. "It's bad enough not +to have any pocket-money. But to starve--Is he ill, then?" + +"He has been. He is getting better." + +"And you are taking care of him?" + +"Yes, I'm housing him for the present." + +"Trevor, it was good of you not to send him to the workhouse." + +Mordaunt frowned. "It was not a case for the workhouse. He would probably +have died before he came to that." + +"Oh, how dreadful!" A shadow crossed her vivid face. "But--he won't die +now, you think?" + +"Not now, no!" + +"And you won't let him go organ-grinding any more?" + +"No." + +"That's all right; though I don't think it would be at all bad on fine +days in the country, if one had a nice little donkey to pull the organ." + +"Nice little donkeys have to be fed," Mordaunt reminded her. + +"Oh yes. But they eat grass and thistles and things. And they never die. +Isn't that extraordinary? One would think the world would get overrun +with them, wouldn't one?" + +"So it is, more or less," observed Mordaunt. + +"Trevor! What a disgusting insinuation!" The merry laugh pealed out. +"I've a good mind to turn round and go straight back." + +"If you think you could," he said. + +"Of course I could!" Chris leaned forward and laid a daring hand on the +wheel. + +"Yes," he said. "But that won't do it, you know." + +"But if I were in earnest?" she said, a quick note of pleading in her +voice. "If I really wanted you to turn round?" + +He kept his eyes fixed ahead. "Are you ever really in earnest, Chris?" he +said. + +"Of course I am!" + +Mordaunt was silent. They were crossing a crowded thoroughfare, and his +driving seemed to occupy his full attention. + +Chris waited till he had extricated the car from the stream of traffic, +then impulsively she spoke-- + +"Trevor, I didn't think you were like Aunt Philippa. I thought you +understood." + +She saw his grave face soften. "Believe me, I am not in the least like +your Aunt Philippa," he said. + +"No; but--" + +"But, Chris?" + +"I think you needn't have asked me that," she said, a little quiver in +her voice. "Even Cinders knows me better than that." + +"Cinders ought to know you better than anyone," remarked Mordaunt. "His +opportunities are unlimited." + +She laughed somewhat dubiously. "I knew you would think me horrid as soon +as you began to see more of me." + +He laughed also at that. "My dear, forgive me for saying so, but you are +absurd--too absurd to be taken seriously, even if you are serious--which +I doubt." + +"But I am," she asserted. "I am. I--I am nearly always serious." + +Mordaunt turned his head and looked at her with that in his eyes which +she alone ever saw there, before which instinctively, almost fearfully, +she veiled her own. + +"You--child!" he said again softly. + +And this time--perhaps because the words offered a way of escape of which +she was not sorry to avail herself--Chris did not seek to contradict him. +She pressed her cheek to Cinders' alert head, and said no more. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SECOND WARNING + + +Rupert's description of Kellerton Old Park, though unflattering, was not +far removed from the truth. The thistles in the drive that wound from the +deserted lodge to the house itself certainly were abnormally high, so +high that Mordaunt at once decided to abandon the car inside the great +wrought-iron gates that had been the pride of the place for many years. + +"That nice little donkey of yours would come in useful here," he +observed, as he handed his _fiancée_ to the ground. + +She tucked her hand engagingly inside his arm. "Ah! but isn't the park +lovely? And look at all those rabbits! No, no, Cinders! You mustn't! +Trevor, you do like it?" + +"I like it immensely," he answered. + +His eyes looked out over the wide, rough stretch of ground before him +that was more like common land than private property, dwelt upon a belt +of trees that crowned a distant rise, scanned the overgrown carriage-road +to where it ended before a grey turret that was half-hidden by a great +cedar, finally came back to the sparkling face by his side. + +"So this is to be our--home, Chris?" he said. + +"Isn't it beautiful?" she said proudly. "Oh, Trevor, you don't know what +it means to me to feel it isn't going to be sold after all." + +He smiled. "I understood it was going to be sold and presented to my wife +for a wedding-gift." + +She turned her face up to his. "Trevor, you don't think I'm ungrateful +too, do you?" + +"My darling," he said, "I think that gratitude between you and me is out +of place at any time. Remember, though I give you this and a thousand +other things, you are giving me--all you have." + +She pressed his arm shyly. "It doesn't seem very much, does it?" she +said. + +He laid his hand upon hers. "You can make it much," he said very gently. + +"How, Trevor?" + +"By marrying me," he said. + +"Oh!" Her eyes fell instantly, and he saw the hot colour rise and +overspread her face. "Oh, but not yet!" she said, almost imploringly. +"Please, not yet!" + +His own face changed a little, hardened almost imperceptibly, but he gave +no sign of impatience. "In your own time, dear," he said quietly. "Heaven +knows I should be the last to persuade you against your will." + +"Aunt Philippa is always worrying me about it," she told him, with a +catch in her voice. "And I--I--after all, I'm only twenty-one." + +"What does she worry you for?" he said, a hint of sternness in his voice. + +She glanced at him nervously. "Because--because I've no money. She +says--she says--" + +"Well, dear, what does she say?" + +"I don't want to tell you," whispered Chris. + +"I think you had better," he said. + +"Yes--I suppose so. She says that as I am bringing you nothing, I have no +right to--to keep you waiting--that beggars can't be choosers, and--and +things like that." + +"My dear Chris!" he said. "And you take things like that to heart!" + +"You see, they are true!" murmured Chris. + +"They are not true. But all the same"--he began to smile again--"I can't +for the life of me imagine why you won't marry me and get it over." + +"No?" Chris suddenly looked up again; she was clinging to his arm very +tightly with both hands. "It does seem rather silly, doesn't it?" she +said, with resolute eyes raised to his. "Trevor, I--I'll think about it." + +"Do!" he said. "Think about it quietly and sanely. And don't let yourself +get frightened at nothing. As you say, it's silly." + +"But you won't--press me?" she faltered. "You--you promised!" + +"I keep my promises, Chris," he said. + +But he was frowning slightly as he said it, and she was quick to note the +fact. "Ah! don't be vexed with me," she pleaded very earnestly. "I know +I'm foolish. I can't help it. It's the way I'm made." + +She was on the verge of tears, and at once his hand closed with a warm +and comforting pressure upon hers. "Chris! Chris! When will you learn not +to be afraid of me?" he said. "I am not vexed with you, child. I am only +wondering." + +"Wondering?" she said. + +"Wondering if I had better go away for a spell," he answered. + +"Go away!" she echoed blankly. + +"And give you time to know your own mind," he said. + +"Trevor!" She turned suddenly white, so white that he thought for an +instant that she was in physical pain; and then, feeling her clinging to +him, he understood. "Oh, no!" she said vehemently. "No, no! Trevor, you +won't? Say you won't! I--I couldn't bear that. Please, Trevor!" + +"My dear," he said, "I shall never go away while you want me. But the +question is, do you want me?" + +"I do!" she declared, almost passionately. "I do!" + +"You are quite sure?" He looked suddenly deep into her eyes, so suddenly +that she could not avoid the look. + +She quivered under it, but he did not release her. He searched her +upturned face closely, persistently, relentlessly, till, with a movement +of entreaty, she stretched up one hand and tremblingly covered his eyes. + +"I am--quite sure," she said in a whisper. "And I--I don't like you to +look at me like that." + +He stood still, suffering himself to be so blinded, till, gaining +confidence, she took her hand away. + +"You won't ask me again, please, Trevor?" she said. + +He smiled at her very kindly, but his voice, as he made answer, was +grave. "No, dear, I shall never ask you that again." + +She took his arm once more with evident relief. "Let us go up to the +house," she said. "I expect Max is there already, waiting for us." + +So they went up the weed-grown drive, and presently came into full sight +of the house. It was a large, rambling building of stone, some of it very +ancient, most of it covered with immense stacks of ivy. Another pair of +iron gates divided park from garden, and as they approached these a +lounging figure sauntered into view and came through to meet them. + +Chris uttered a squeak of delight, and sprang forward. "Max!" + +"Hullo!" said the new-comer. + +He was a thick-set youth, with heavy red brows and a somewhat offhand +demeanour. His eyes were green and very shrewd. They surveyed Mordaunt +with open criticism. He was smoking a very foul-smelling cigarette. + +Chris was very rosy. "Max," she said, "this is Trevor!" + +"Hullo!" said Max again. + +He extended a careless hand and gave his future brother-in-law a hard +grip. There was no particular friendliness in the action, it was +evidently his custom to grip hard. + +"Come to investigate your new abode?" he said. "Are you going to pull it +down?" + +"It is not my present intention," Mordaunt said. + +"Of course he isn't!" said Chris. "Don't be absurd, Max. It is going to +be made lovely inside and out, and we are all going to live here." + +"Are we?" said Max, with a sudden grin. "Who says so?" + +He glanced at Mordaunt with the words, and it was Mordaunt who answered +him-- + +"I hope you and your brothers will continue to look upon it as your home +until you have homes of your own." + +"Very rash of you!" commented Max, swinging round again to the gate. +"Well, come inside and see it." + +They went within, went from room to room of the old place, Max with the +air of a sardonic showman, Mordaunt gravely attentive to details, Chris +light-footed, eager with many ideas for its reformation. The mildewed +walls and partially dismantled rooms, with their moth-eaten furniture and +threadbare carpets, had no damping effect upon her spirits. She had a +boundless faith in her _fiancé's_ power to transform her ancient home +into a palace of delight. + +"If you really mean to buy it as it stands, I should recommend you to +make a bonfire of the contents," said Max presently, as they stood all +together in the deep bay window of a room on the first floor that looked +out upon the park, with a glimpse beyond of distant hills. "But the place +itself is an absolute ruin. I can't imagine how you are going to patch it +up." + +"I think it can be done," Mordaunt said. He was staring out somewhat +absently, and spoke as if his thoughts were wandering. + +Both brother and sister glanced at him. Then, "When are you going to get +married?" asked Max. + +Mordaunt came out of his reverie. "That," he said deliberately, "has +still to be decided." + +"Who is going to decide? You or Chris?" Max lighted another cigarette and +pitched the match, still burning, from the window. + +"Oh, Max!" exclaimed Chris. "How dangerous! Look! There is Cinders +sniffing along the terrace! He is sure to burn his nose!" + +She was gone with the words, and Max, with a brief laugh, returned to the +charge. + +"I conclude the decision rests with her." + +"Well?" said Mordaunt. He spoke curtly; perhaps he resented the boy's +interference, or perhaps he had had enough of the subject for that day. + +"Look here," said Max. "I know Chris. She will keep you dangling for the +next ten years if you will put up with it. If you want to be married +soon, you will have to assert yourself." + +Mordaunt was silent. + +Max waited. Below them Chris flashed suddenly into view, darting with a +butterfly grace of movement to the rescue of her pet. + +Abruptly Mordaunt spoke. "I sometimes wonder if she is too young to be +married." + +"What?" Max removed his cigarette and stared at him. "She is as old as I +am!" + +Mordaunt looked back, faintly smiling. "Yes, I know. But--well, that's no +argument, is it?" + +"I suppose not. All the same"--Max leaned back nonchalantly against the +window-frame--"if you mean to wait till she grows up, you'll wait a +precious long time, and she will probably run away with another fellow +while you are thinking about it." + +Mordaunt clapped a restraining hand on his shoulder. "My friend," he +said, "I don't permit that sort of thing to be said of Chris." + +Maxwell's green eyes twinkled. "You don't, eh? That's rather decent of +you. But, you know, there is such a thing as being too trusting. And the +family of Wyndham are not conspicuously famous for their honourable +scruples. Now, Chris is as much a Wyndham as the rest of us, and--I'm +going to say it whether you like it or not, it's the truth also--she +is a deal more likely to keep out of mischief if she marries young. You +are no fool by the look of you. You know there is reason in what I say." + +"You have said enough," Mordaunt said, with a touch of sternness. + +"All right. The subject is closed. But--just tell me this. Do you--or do +you not--want to marry her before the summer is over?" + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Because I want to know." + +"Well"--Mordaunt's eyes studied him for a few seconds--"it is an +unnecessary question." + +"Because I know the answer?" questioned Max. + +"Exactly." + +"Very well." He straightened himself with a smile. "I think I can manage +that for you." + +"Wait!" Mordaunt said. "You mean well, but--I would rather you didn't +attempt it. I would rather that Chris were left to settle this matter for +herself." + +"So she will. I know what I'm about, bless your heart! Chris always asks +my advice and generally takes it. She will marry you all right before the +end of the season. You leave it to me." + +He turned from the window with the words, still smiling. "Give me five +minutes alone with her," he said. + +And Mordaunt, though more than half against his will, yielded the point, +and let him go. + +They lunched in the old oak-beamed dining-room--a meal presided over by +Max, who played the host with a half-mocking air, while Chris, still +eager upon the renovations, poured out plans, practicable and otherwise, +for her _fiancé's_ consideration. + +"What a pity we have to get back!" she said regretfully when the time for +departure drew near. "I want to begin right away, Trevor. Why can't we +spend the night here? Wire to Aunt Philippa, Max. Say we are busy." + +Max grinned. "What says Trevor?" + +"Quite impossible," said Mordaunt, with a smile at her ardent face. +"There isn't a bed for you to sleep on." + +"I could sleep on the sofa with Cinders," she said. "We can sleep +anywhere." + +"They've slept on a heap of stones before now," remarked Max. + +"I'm sure we haven't!" She whisked round upon him with a suddenness that +was almost a challenge. "We haven't, Max!" she repeated. + +He stuck a cigarette into his mouth. "All right, my dear girl. My +mistake, no doubt. I thought you had." + +"Don't be absurd!" ordered Chris, colouring vividly "We never did +anything so--so disreputable." She twined her arm impulsively in +Mordaunt's. "Don't believe him, Trevor!" + +"I don't," he said, with his quiet eyes upon her upturned face. + +Max laughed aloud. "Why don't you tell him the joke, Chris?" + +"Because there isn't any joke, and you're very horrid," she returned with +spirit. "Trevor, let's go!" + +"I am ready," he said. + +"Very well, then." Chris turned round with relief in her face and hastily +tied her veil. "Please find Cinders, Max," she said. "And bring Trevor's +coat. It's in the billiard-room. I suppose we really must go back this +time, but you will bring me again, won't you, Trevor?" + +"As often as you care to come," he said. + +"Ah, yes! Only I'm so full of engagements just now. It's such a nuisance. +One can never get away." + +"What! Tired of London?" he said. + +"Oh no, not really. But I want to be here, too. I love this place. You +won't do anything in it without me, will you?" + +"Not without your approval, certainly," he promised. + +She turned back to him with her quick smile. "Trevor, thank you! I--I've +decided to marry you as soon as ever I can--as soon as Hilda comes back +from her honeymoon." + +He was smoking a cigarette. He took it from between his lips and dropped +it into an ash-tray. For a moment his face was turned from her. He seemed +to be watching the smouldering ash. Then, "Really, Chris?" he said, +looking down at her again. + +She was tugging at her gloves. She thrust her hand out to him. "Button +it, please!" she said, rather breathlessly, as if the exertion had +exhausted her somewhat. + +He took it, bent over it, suddenly pressed his lips to the soft wrist. + +"Oh, don't!" said Chris, and snatched it from him. + +When Max came back she was standing by the window, still fumbling at her +glove, with her back turned, while her _fiancé_ leaned against the +mantelpiece, finishing his cigarette. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE COMPACT + + +Wearily Bertrand de Montville turned his head upon the sofa-cushion, and +opened his heavy eyes. He seemed to be listening for something, but +evidently he considered that he had listened in vain, for his eyelids +began to droop again almost immediately. He seemed to drift into a state +of semi-consciousness. + +The evening sunlight was screened from his face by blinds, but even so +its deep shadows were painfully distinct. He looked unutterably tired. + +There came a slight sound at the door, and again his eyes were open. In a +moment, with incredible briskness, he was off the couch and half-way +across the room before, seized with sudden dizziness, he began to falter. + +Trevor Mordaunt, entering, made a dive forward, and held him up. + +"Now, my friend, lie down again," he said, "and stay down till further +orders." + +"Ah, pardon me!" the Frenchman murmured, clutching vaguely for support. +"I am strong, more strong than you think. I--I--" + +"Lie down," Trevor reiterated. "You don't give yourself a chance, man. +You forget you have been a helpless invalid for the past ten days. There! +How's that? Comfortable?" + +"You are always so good--so good!" panted de Montville very earnestly. "I +know not how to thank you--how to repay." + +"Just obey orders, that's all," said the Englishman, faintly smiling. "I +want to get you well. No, you are not well yet--say what you like, you're +not. I've let you get up for an experiment, but if you don't behave +yourself back you go. Now lie still, quite still, while I open my +letters. When you have quite recovered your breath we will have a talk." + +He had assumed this tone of authority from the outset, and de Montville +had submitted, in the first place because he was too ill to do otherwise, +and later because, somewhat to his surprise, he found himself impelled +thereto by his own inclination. It did not in any fashion wound his +pride, this kindly mastery. He wondered at himself for tolerating it, and +yet he offered no resistance. It was too great a thing to resist. + +So, still panting a little, he subsided obediently upon Mordaunt's sofa +while the latter busied himself with his correspondence. + +There was a considerable pile of letters. Mordaunt opened one after +another with the deliberation that marked most of his actions, but the +pile dwindled very quickly notwithstanding. Some letters he dropped at +once into a waste-paper basket, upon others he scribbled a few notes; +two or three he laid aside for further consideration. + +The last of all he held in his hand for several seconds unopened. The +envelope was a large one and stiff, as if it contained cardboard. It was +directed in an irregular, childish scrawl. Mordaunt, sitting at his +writing-table, with his back to his guest, studied it gravely, +thoughtfully. Finally very quietly he broke the seal. + +There was a crackle of tissue-paper, and he drew out a photograph--the +photograph of a laughing girl with a diminutive terrier of doubtful +extraction clasped in her arms. Without any change of countenance he +studied this also. + +He laid it at last upon his table, and turned in his chair. "Have you had +anything to drink?" + +De Montville looked slightly disconcerted by the question. "But no!" he +said. "I have not--that is to say, I would not--" + +Mordaunt stretched a hand to the bell. "Holmes should have seen to it. +What do you drink? Afraid I can't offer you absinthe." + +"But I never drink it, monsieur." + +"No? Whisky and soda, then?" + +"What you will, monsieur." + +"Very well. Whisky and soda, Holmes, and be quick about it." Mordaunt +glanced at the clock, looked again at the photograph at his elbow, +finally rose. "I want a talk with you, M. de Montville," he said, "if you +feel up to it. Don't get up, please. There is no necessity." + +But de Montville apparently thought otherwise, for he drew himself to a +sitting position and faced his benefactor. + +"I also," he said, "have desired to talk with you since long." + +Mordaunt pulled up a chair. "Do you mind if I talk first?" he said. + +"But certainly, monsieur." With quick courtesy the Frenchman made reply. +His dark eyes were very intent. He fixed them upon the Englishman's face +and composed himself to listen. + +"It's just this," Mordaunt said. "I think we know each other well enough +to dispense with preliminaries, so I will come to the point at once. Now +you have probably realized by this time that I am a very busy man--have +been for several years past. In my profession there is not much time for +sitting still, nor, till lately, have I wanted it. But there comes a time +in most men's lives when they feel that they would like to get out of the +rash and enjoy a little leisure, take it easy--in short, settle down and +grow old in comfort." + +De Montville nodded several times with swift intelligence. "_Alors_, +monsieur contemplates marriage," he said. + +Mordaunt laughed a little. "Exactly, _mon ami_, and that speedily." + +He broke off at the entrance of his servant, and for the next few seconds +busied himself with the mixing of drinks. De Montville continued to watch +him with keen interest. As Mordaunt handed him his glass he clutched the +sofa-head and stood up. + +"I drink to your future happiness," he said, with a sudden smile and bow, +"and to the lady who will be so fortunate as to share it!" + +Mordaunt held out his hand. "Thank you. Much obliged. But sit down, my +dear fellow. I haven't quite finished what I want to say. And you are too +shaky to be bobbing up and down. I was just going to point out where you +come in." + +De Montville gripped his hand with all his strength. "I can serve you, +then? You have only to speak." + +But Mordaunt would not speak till he was recumbent again. Then very +quietly he came to the point. + +"The upshot of it is that I want a secretary to take things off my hands +a bit, and since I would rather have a pal than a stranger in that +capacity I am wondering if you will take on the job." + +"I!" Utter amazement sounded in de Montville's voice. He sat bolt upright +for a space of seconds, staring into the impassive British face before +him. "But you--you--joke!" he said at last, his voice very low. + +"No, I am quite in earnest." Gravely Mordaunt returned his look. "I +believe we might pull together very well. Think it over, M. de Montville, +and if you feel inclined to give it a trial--" + +"I wish that you would call me Bertrand," de Montville broke in +unexpectedly. "It would be more convenient. My name is known in England, +and--I do not like publicity. As for your--so generous--suggestion, +monsieur, I have no words. I am your debtor in all things. I know well +that it is of my welfare that you think. For myself I do not need to +consider for a moment. I would accept with joy and gratitude the most +profound. But, I ask you, are you altogether wise in thus reposing your +confidence in a man of whom you know nothing, except that he was tried +and condemned for an offence of which you had the goodness to believe him +innocent? I repeat, monsieur, are you altogether wise?" + +"From my own point of view--absolutely." Mordaunt spoke with a smile. He +held up his glass. "You accept, then?" + +"How could I do other than accept?" protested the Frenchman, with +outspread hands. + +"Then drink with me to the success of our alliance," said Mordaunt. "I +believe it will work very well." + +He prepared to drink, but de Montville made a swift movement to arrest +him. "But one moment! First, monsieur, you will give me your promise that +if in any manner I fail to satisfy you, you will at once inform me of +it?" + +Mordaunt paused, regarding him steadily. "Yes, I will promise you that," +he said. + +"Ah! Good! Then I drink with you, monsieur, to the success of our +compact. It will be my pleasure and privilege to serve you to the utmost +of my ability." + +He drank almost with reverence, and set down his glass with a hand that +trembled. + +Mordaunt got up. "That is settled, then. By the way, the question of +salary does not seem to have occurred to you. I don't know if you have +any ideas upon the subject. Four hundred pounds per annum is what I +thought of offering." + +"Four hundred pounds!" De Montville stared at him in amazement. "Four +hundred pounds!" he repeated, in rising agitation. "But no, monsieur! It +is too much! I will not--I cannot--take--even from you--a gift so great. +I--I--" + +He waxed unintelligible in his distress, and would have risen, but +Mordaunt's hand upon his shoulder kept him down. Mordaunt bent over him, +very quiet and friendly, very sure of himself and of the man he +addressed. + +"That's all right, _mon ami_. It is not too much. It's a perfectly +fair bargain, and--to please me if you like--I want you to accept it. +You will find there is plenty to do, possibly more than you anticipate. +So--suppose we consider it settled, eh?" + +De Montville was silent. + +"We'll call it done," Mordaunt said. "Have a cigarette!" + +He held his case in front of the Frenchman, and after a moment de +Montville took one. But he only balanced it in his fingers, still saying +nothing. + +"A light?" suggested Mordaunt. + +He made a jerky movement, and glanced up for an instant. "Mr. Mordaunt," +he said, speaking with evident difficulty, "what is--a pal?" + +"A pal," Mordaunt said, smiling slightly, "is a special kind of friend, +Bertrand--the best kind, the sort you open your heart to in trouble, the +sort that is always ready to stand by." + +"Such a friend as you have been to me?" questioned de Montville slowly. + +"Well, if you like to say so," Mordaunt said. "I almost think we might +call ourselves pals by this time. What say you?" + +"I, monsieur?" He reached up and grasped the hand that rested on his +shoulder. "For myself I ask no better," he said, in a voice that quivered +beyond control, "than to be to you what you have been to me. And I will +sooner die by my own hand than give you cause to regret your kindness." + +"Which you never will," Mordaunt said. "Come, light up, man! Here's a +match!" + +He held it up, and de Montville had perforce to place the cigarette +between his lips. His throat was working spasmodically, but with a +valiant effort he managed to inhale a mouthful of smoke. He choked over +it badly the next moment, however, and Mordaunt patted his back with much +goodwill till he was better. + +"There, my dear fellow, lie down now and take it easy. I'm dining out; +but Holmes has special orders to look after you; and if you are wanting +anything, in the name of common-sense ask for it." + +With that he turned from the sofa, took up the photograph that lay +upon his writing-table, hesitated an instant, then thrust it into his +breast-pocket, and strolled out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A CONFESSION + + +"So you don't like my photograph!" said Chris. + +"Why do you say that?" + +"I could see you didn't. What's the matter with it? Isn't it pretty +enough? It's just like me." + +"Yes, it's just like you," Mordaunt admitted. + +"Then you don't like me?" suggested Chris. + +He smiled at that. "Yes, I like you very much. But--" + +"Well?" said Chris, her deep-sea eyes full of eager curiosity. "Go on, +please!" + +"Well," he said, "that photograph is not one that I could show to my +friends." + +"But why not--if it's just like me?" + +He took her chin and turned her face gently to the light. "Try again," he +said, "without Cinders." + +"Without Cinders!" She stared at him mystified, then began to laugh. +"Trevor, I believe you are jealous of Cinders!" + +"Perhaps," he said. "Anyhow, I should prefer your portrait without him. +You look like a baby of six cuddling a toy." + +"I wonder what makes you so anxious to marry me," said Chris +unexpectedly. + +Mordaunt still smiled at her. "Strange, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes, I can't understand it in the least." She shook her head with a +puzzled expression. "It's a pity you don't like that photograph. I'm sure +Cinders has come out beautifully. And he isn't a bit like a toy." + +"Yes, but I don't want Cinders." + +Chris looked at him with sudden misgiving. "But, Trevor, when--when we +are married--" + +"Oh, of course," he said at once. "I didn't mean that. I haven't the +smallest wish to part you from him. It's only his photograph I have no +use for." + +Her face cleared magically. "Dear Trevor, I quite understand. And I would +go and be done again to-morrow if I had the money, but I haven't." + +"Are you very hard up?" he asked. + +She nodded. "Horribly. I'm very extravagant, too--at least, Aunt Philippa +says so. I can't bear asking her for money. In fact, I--I--" + +She hesitated, avoiding his eyes. "Shall I tell you something, Trevor?" +she said in a whisper. "It's something I haven't told anyone else!" + +"Of course tell me!" He took her two hands into his, holding them up +against his heart. + +"Well--it's a secret, you know--I--I--" She raised her face in sudden +pleading. "Promise you won't be cross, Trevor." + +"I promise, dear," he answered gravely. + +"Well, I'm afraid it's rather bad of me. I haven't been paying for things +lately. I simply couldn't. London is a dreadful place for spending money, +isn't it? It's all quite little things, but they mount up shockingly. +And--and--Aunt Philippa is bound to give me some money presently for +my--my trousseau. So I thought--I thought--" She came nearer to him; she +laid her cheek coaxingly against his breast. "Trevor, you said you +wouldn't be cross." + +He put his hand on her bright hair. "I am not cross, dear. I am only +sorry." + +Chris was inclined to be a little tearful. She did not quite know what +had led her to tell him--it had been the impulse of a moment--but it was +a vast relief to feel he knew. + +"I'm not a very good manager, I'm afraid," she said. "But there are +certain things one must have, and they do add up so. I believe it's the +odd halfpennies and farthings that do it. Don't you ever find that?" + +"I can quite imagine it," he said. + +"Yes, they're so deceptive. I wonder why two-and-elevenpence +three-farthings sound so much less than three shillings. It's a snare and +a delusion. I don't think it ought to be allowed." She raised her head +with her April smile. "I'm very glad I told you, Trevor. You're very nice +about things. I was afraid you would be like Aunt Philippa, but you are +not in the least." + +"Thank you, Chris. Now I want to say something very serious to you. Will +you listen--and take it seriously?" + +She gave a little sigh. "I know exactly what it is." + +"No, you don't know." Mordaunt looked at her with eyes that were gravely +kind. "You are not to jump to conclusions where I am concerned," he said. +"You don't know me well enough. What I have to say is this. I can't have +you in difficulties for want of a little money. Those debts of yours must +be settled at once." + +"But, Trevor, Aunt Philippa--" + +"Never mind Aunt Philippa. It has nothing to do with her. It is a matter +between you and me. We will settle it without her assistance." + +"Oh, Trevor, but--" + +"There is no 'but,' Chris," he said, interrupting her almost sternly. "I +am nearer to you than your aunt. Tell me--as nearly as you can--what +those debts amount to." + +Chris was looking a little startled. "But I--I don't know," she said. + +"Well, find out and tell me." He smiled at her again. "It's all right, +dear. Don't be afraid of me. I know it's hard to keep within bounds when +there is a shortage of means. But I don't like debts. You won't run up +any more?" + +Chris still looked at him somewhat doubtfully. "I won't if I can help +it," she said. + +"You will be able to help it," he rejoined. + +"Yes, but, Trevor, please let me say it. I don't think you ought to--to +give me money before--before--Oh, do understand!" she broke off +helplessly. "You generally do." + +"I quite understand," he said, his hand on her shoulder. "But, my child, +I think, considering all things, that you need not let that scruple +trouble you. Since we are to be married in six weeks--" + +"In six weeks, Trevor!" Again that startled look that was almost one of +consternation. + +"In six weeks," he repeated, with quiet emphasis. "Your cousin will +probably be back from her honeymoon, and it will be the end of the +season. Since, then, our marriage is to take place in six weeks, and that +I shall then be responsible for you, I do not think you need be troubled +about letting me help you out of this difficulty now. No one will know of +it. It will set your mind at rest--and mine also." + +"Ah, but, Trevor--" Chris spoke somewhat breathlessly--she was rubbing +her hand nervously up and down his sleeve--"I'm not quite sure that--that +it will set my mind at rest. I'm not sure that--that I want you to do it, +or that I ought to let you even if I did, because, you see, because--" + +"Because--?" he said. + +She turned her head aside, avoiding his direct look. "Don't be angry, +will you? But just--just supposing something happened, and--and--and we +didn't get married after all?" + +She ended rather desperately, in an undertone. But for the quiet hand on +her shoulder she would have moved away from him; she might even have been +tempted to flee altogether. As it was, she stood still, trembling a +little, wondering if she had outrun his patience at last or if he had it +in him still to bear with her. + +He did not speak at once. She waited with a beating heart. + +"Well?" he said, and at the sound of his voice she thrilled with relief. +"It's as well to look all round a thing, I admit. We will consider that +supposition if you like. Say something happens to prevent our marriage. +What then? Is it to put an end to our friendship also?" + +She turned slightly towards him. "I might never be able to repay you," +she murmured. + +"I see. And that would trouble you--even though we remained friends?" + +She was silent. + +"It has always been a puzzle to me," he said, "why money--which is the +most ordinary thing in life--is the one thing that friends scruple to +accept from each other. Gifts of any other description, all sorts of +sacrifices, down to life itself, are offered and taken with no scruple of +pride. But when it comes to money, which is of very small value in +comparison, people begin to worry. Why, Chris, what are pounds, +shillings, and pence between you and me? Surely we have climbed above +that sort of thing, haven't we?" + +The tenderness of his tone moved her, in a fashion compelled her. She +went into his arms impulsively, she clung about his neck. Yet even then +her scruples were not quite laid to rest. + +"But--Trevor dear--just supposing we quarrelled? We might, you know, +about Cinders or anything. And then--and then--" + +"My dear," he said, "we certainly shall not quarrel about Cinders. I +can't for the life of me picture myself quarrelling with you under any +circumstances whatsoever. And even if we did, I don't think you would +hate me so badly as to grudge me the satisfaction of knowing that I had +been of use to you at an awkward moment. Don't you think we are getting +rather morbid, Chris?" + +"I don't know," she said, clinging closer. "I only know that you are +miles and miles too good for me. And whatever makes you want me I can't +think." + +He put his hand under her chin, and turned her face up to his own. +"I'll tell you another time. At the present moment I want to talk +about--getting married." + +He spoke the last two words very softly, holding her close lest she +should shrink away. + +But Chris, with her eyes on his, kept still and silent in his arms. Only +she turned rather white. + +He continued with the utmost gentleness. "Your cousin is going to be +married on the fifteenth of this month. Can't we arrange our wedding for +the fifteenth of next?" + +"The fifteenth!" said Chris. "Isn't that St. Swithin's Day?" + +She spoke so briskly that even Mordaunt was for the moment taken by +surprise. + +"St. Swithin's Day!" he echoed. "Well, what of it?" + +She broke into her gay laugh. "Oh, please not St. Swithin's Day! Just +imagine if it rained!" + +"Chris!" he said. "You're incorrigible!" + +His arms had slackened, and she drew away from him, breathing rather +quickly. + +"No, but really, wouldn't it be tragic? I shouldn't like a wet honeymoon, +should you? Hadn't we better wait till August? Or shall you be wanting to +go to Scotland?" + +"No," he said. "I am not going to Scotland this year." + +His eyes were still upon her, gravely watchful, but they expressed +nothing of impatience or exasperation. Very quietly he waited. + +"Shall we say August, then?" said Chris, in a small, shy voice, not +looking at him. + +"Will your aunt remain in town for August?" he asked. + +"But we are not obliged to be married in town," she pointed out. + +"Nor are we obliged to have a honeymoon, Chris," he said. "Shall we say +St. Swithin's Day, and forego the honeymoon--if it rains?" + +"Go straight home, you mean?" She turned back to him eagerly. "Oh, +Trevor, I should like that! I do want to superintend everything there. +Yes, let's do that, shall we? I always did think honeymoons were rather +silly, didn't you?" + +He smiled in spite of himself. "I daresay they are--from some points of +view. It is settled, then--St. Swithin's Day?" + +She nodded. "Yes. And we will go straight to Kellerton afterwards, and +work--like niggers. It won't matter a bit then whether it rains or not. +And Noel can spend his holidays with us and help. How busy we shall be!" + +She laughed up at him, all shining eyes and dimples. + +Again--in spite of himself--he laughed back, pinching her cheek. "Will +that please you, my little Chris?" + +"Oh, ever so!" said Chris. + +He stooped and lightly kissed her hair. "Then--so let it be!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A SURPRISE VISIT + + +It was raining--one of those sudden, pelting showers that descend from +June thunder-clouds, brief but drenching. It was also very dark, and +Bertrand had switched on the light. He was seated at Mordaunt's +writing-table, his black head bent over a pile of letters. The pen he +held moved busily, but not very quickly. He was writing with extreme +care. It was evident that he meant his first day's work to be a success. +He scarcely noticed the heavy downpour, being profoundly intent upon the +work he had in hand. Only at a sharp clap of thunder did he glance up +momentarily and shrug his shoulders. But he was at once immersed again in +his occupation, so deeply immersed that at the opening of the door he did +not turn his head. + +Holmes paused just inside the room. "If you please, sir--" + +"Ah, put it down, put it down!" said the Frenchman impatiently. "I am +busy." + +But Holmes, being empty-handed, did not comply with the request. He +remained hesitating, obviously doubtful, till with a sharp jerk de +Montville turned in his chair. + +"What is it, then? I have told you--I am busy." + +Holmes looked apologetic. He found the abrupt ways of the new secretary +somewhat disconcerting. "It's a young lady, sir," he explained rather +diffidently. "It's Miss Wyndham. She run in here for shelter, and, seeing +as Mr. Mordaunt be out, I didn't know whether you would wish me to show +her up or not, sir." + +Bertrand was on his feet in a moment. "A young lady! Miss Wyndham! Who +is--Miss Wyndham?" + +"It's the young lady as Mr. Mordaunt is a-going to marry," said Holmes, +dropping his voice confidentially. "I told her as Mr. Mordaunt weren't +in, and she said as she'd like to wait. Didn't know quite what to do, +sir. Would you like me to show her up?" + +"But certainly!" De Montville's eyebrows had gone up an inch, but he +lowered them hastily and smiled. Doubtless it was an English custom, +this; he must not display surprise. "Beg her to ascend," he said. "Mr. +Mordaunt may return at any moment. He would not wish his _fiancée_ to +remain below." + +"Very good, sir." Holmes withdrew, leaving the door ajar. + +Bertrand remained upon his feet, watching it expectantly. + +At the sound of voices on the stairs he smiled involuntarily. But how +they were droll--these English ladies! Would he ever accustom himself-- + +"Miss Wyndham, sir!" It was Holmes again, opening the door wide to usher +in the unexpected visitor. + +Bertrand bowed low. + +The visitor paused an instant on the threshold, then came briskly +forward. "Oh," she said, "are you the organ-grinder?" + +He straightened himself with a jerk; he looked at her. And suddenly a cry +rang through the room--a cry that came straight from a woman's heart, +inarticulate, thrilled through and through with a rapture beyond words. +And in a moment Bertrand de Montville, outcast and wanderer on the face +of the earth, had shed the bitter burden that weighed him down, had +leaped the dark dividing gulf that separated him from the dear land of +his dreams, and stood once more upon the sands of Valpré, with a girl's +hands fast clasped in his. + +"_Mignonne_!" he gasped hoarsely. "_Mignonne_!" And again "_Mignonne_!" + +Her answering voice had a break in it--a sound of unshed tears. +"Bertie--dear! Bertie--dear!" + +The door closed discreetly, and Holmes departed to his own premises. It +was no affair of his, he informed himself stolidly; but it was a rum go, +and he couldn't help wondering what the master would make of it. + +"But why wasn't I told?" said Chris, yet hovering between tears and +laughter. "They--Bertie--they said you were an organ-grinder!" + +He let her hands go, but his dark eyes still shone with the wonder and +the joy of the encounter. + +"Ah!" he said. "And they told me--they told me--that you were--" He +stopped abruptly with the dazed expression of a man suddenly hit in a +vital place. All the light went out of his face. He became silent. + +"Why--what is it?" said Chris. + +He did not answer at once, and in the pause that ensued he resumed his +burden, he re-crossed the gulf, and the sands of Valpré were left very, +very far away. + +In the pause also she saw him as he was--a man broken before his prime, +haggard and tired and old, with the fire of his genius quenched for ever +in the bitter waters of adversity. + +With an effort he spoke. "It is nothing, _chérie_. You are the same. But +with me--all is changed." + +"Changed, Bertie? But how?" + +He looked at her. His eyes dwelt upon the vivid, happy face, but all the +spontaneous gladness had died out of his own; it held only an infinite +melancholy. + +"He--Mr. Mordaunt--has not told you?" + +"No one has told me anything," she said. "What is it, Bertie? Have things +gone wrong with you? Tell me! Was it--was it the gun?" + +He bent his head. + +"Oh, but I'm so sorry," she said. "Was it a failure, after all?" + +She drew near to him. She laid a sympathetic hand upon his arm. + +A sharp tremor went through him. He stooped very low and kissed it. "It +was--worse than that," he said, his voice choked, barely audible. "It +was--it was--dishonour." + +"Dishonour!" She echoed the word, uncomprehending, unbelieving. + +He remained bent over her hand. She could not see his face. "Have you +never heard," he said, "of ex-Lieutenant de Montville--the man whom all +France execrated three years ago as a traitor?" + +"Yes," said Chris. "I've heard of him, of course. But"--doubtfully--"I +don't read the papers much. I didn't know what he was supposed to have +done. I only knew that everyone in England said he hadn't." + +The Frenchman sighed heavily. "The people in England did not know," he +said. + +"No? Then you think he was guilty?" + +He stood up sharply and faced her. "I know that he was innocent," he +said. "But it could not be proved. That is what the English could never +realize. And--_chérie_--I was that man. I was Lieutenant de Montville." + +Chris was gazing at him in amazement. "You!" she said incredulously. + +"I," he said. "They accused me of treason. They thought that I would sell +my own gun--my own gun. They sent me to prison--_mon Dieu_! I know not +how I survived. I suffered until it seemed that I could suffer no more. +And then they gave me my liberty--they banished me from France. I came to +England--and I starved." + +"You starved, Bertie!" Her blue eyes widened with horrified pity. "You!" +she said. "You!" + +He smiled with wistful humour. "Men more worthy than I have done the +same," he said. + +"Oh, but you, my own _preux chevalier_!" Chris's voice trembled upon the +words. + +He made a quick, restraining gesture. "But no--not that!" he said. "Your +friend always, _petite_, but your _preux chevalier_--never again!" + +Chris smiled, with quivering lips. "You will never be anything but my +_preux chevalier_ so long as you live," she said. "Oh, Bertie, I'm so +distressed--so grieved--to think of all you have had to bear. I never +dreamt of its being you. You know, I never heard your name. We went +away so suddenly from Valpré. I had no time to think of anything. I--I +was very miserable--afterwards." Her voice sank; her eyes were full of +tears. "I knew you would think I had forgotten, but indeed, indeed it +wasn't that!" + +"Ah, _pauvre petite_!" he said gently. + +"And you didn't know my name either, did you?" she said. "I kept telling +myself you would find out somehow and write--but you never did." + +He spread out his hands. "But what could I do? Your name was not known. +And I--I could not leave Valpré to seek you. My duties kept me at the +fortress. And so--and so--I said that I would wait until my fortune was +well assured, and then--then--" He stopped. "But that is past," he said, +with an odd little smile that somehow cut her to the heart. "_Et +maintenant_ tell me of yourself, _petite_, of all your affairs. Much may +arrive in four years. But first--you are happy, yes?" + +Eagerly the dark eyes sought hers as he asked the question. + +Chris looked back at him with a little frown. "Yes, I am happy, Bertie. +At least--I should be happy--if it weren't for thinking of you. Oh, +Bertie, that horrid gun! I always hated it!" + +Again her voice quivered on the verge of tears, and again with a quick +gesture he stayed her. + +"We will speak of it no more," he said. "See! We turn another page in the +book of life, and we commence again. Let us remember only, Christine, +that we are good comrades, you and I. But it is a good thing, this +_camaraderie_. It gives us pleasure, yes?" + +She gave him her hands impulsively. "Bertie!" she cried. "We shall always +be pals--always--all our lives; but don't--dear, don't smile at me like +that! I can't bear it!" + +He held her hands very tightly; he had wholly ceased to smile. But still +gallantly he shielded her from the danger she had not begun to see. He +did it instinctively, because of the love he bore her, and because of the +innocence in her eyes. + +"But what is it?" he said. "It is necessary that we smile sometimes, +_chérie,_ since to weep is futile, and laughter is always more precious +than tears. Ah! that is better. You smile yourself. It is always thus +that I remember my little friend of Valpré. She was ever too brave for +tears." + +He pressed her hands encouragingly, and again he let them go. But the +strain was telling upon him. There was one subject which he could not +trust himself to broach. + +And for some reason Chris could not broach it either. She took refuge in +every-day affairs; she told him of the giddy doings that kept her +occupied from morning till night, of Cinders (the mention of whose name +kindled a reminiscent gleam in the Frenchman's eyes), of the coming +birthday dance, which he must promise to attend. + +He shook his head over that; such gaieties were not for him. But Chris +pressed the point with much persistence. Of course he must come. It would +be no fun without him. Did he remember that birthday picnic at Valpré, +and--and the night they had passed in the Magic Cave? She spoke of it +with heightened colour and a hint of defiance which was plainly not +directed against him. + +"And I was afraid of the dragon," she said. "And you held my hand. I +remember it so well. And afterwards I went to sleep, and slept all night +long with my head on your shoulder." + +"You were but a child," he said softly. + +"But it seems like yesterday," she answered. + +And then it was that the door opened very quietly, and Trevor Mordaunt +came in upon them, sitting together in the gloom. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE EXPLANATION + + +There was nothing hurried in his entrance, nothing startling; but yet a +sudden silence fell. + +Out of it almost immediately came Bertrand's voice. "Ah, Mr. +Mordaunt, you return to find a visitor. Miss--Wyndham is here. She +came to seek you, but she found only--" he spread out his hands +characteristically--"the organ-grinder." + +He had risen with the words; so also had Chris. She went forward, but +without her usual impetuosity. + +"I have found an old friend, Trevor," she said, speaking quickly, as if +embarrassed. "I have known Mr.--Mr.--what did you say your name was?" +turning towards him again. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "I am called Bertrand, mademoiselle." + +She smiled in her quick way. "I have known--Bertrand--for years. At +least, we used to know each other years ago, and--and we knew each other +again the moment we met. It was a great surprise to me--to us both." + +"And a great pleasure," said Bertrand, with a bow. + +"An immense pleasure," said Chris, with enthusiasm. + +"But, my dear girl," Mordaunt said, his quiet voice falling almost coldly +upon their explanations, "what on earth made you come here of all +places?" + +"Oh," said Chris, leaping to this new point almost with relief, "it was +raining, and thundering too. I hadn't an umbrella and I knew I should be +drenched, and this was the nearest shelter I could think of, so I just +came. It seemed the most sensible thing to do. I thought perhaps you +would be pleased to see me. I even fancied you might give me tea." + +There was a faint note of wistfulness in her voice though she was +smiling. She stood before him with something of the air of a culprit. + +"Of course Aunt Philippa wouldn't approve," she said. "I know that. +But--you always say you are not like Aunt Philippa, Trevor." + +He took her hand very gently but with evident purpose into his own. + +"I will give you tea with pleasure," he said, "but not here. Holmes shall +call a taxi. I am afraid you must say good-bye to your friend now, +unless--" he paused momentarily--"unless, Bertrand, you care to accompany +us." + +"Oh do, Bertie!" she said eagerly. "I want you. Please come!" + +But Bertrand's refusal was instant and final. + +"It is impossible," he declared. "I thank you a thousand times, but I +have yet many letters to write, and the post will not wait." + +"Letters?" said Chris curiously. + +"M. Bertrand is my secretary," said Mordaunt quietly. + +"Oh, is he? And you never told me! But what a splendid idea!" Chris stood +between the two men, flushed, eager, charming. "I'm so glad, Bertie," she +said impulsively. "You may think yourself very lucky. Mr. Mordaunt is +quite the nicest man in the world." + +Bertrand bowed low. "I believe it," he said simply. + +"Then we shall see quite a lot of each other," went on Chris. "That will +be great fun--just like old times. Oh, must I really go? I don't want to +at all, and nothing will make me sorry that I came." She threw a gay +smile at her _fiancé_, and withdrew her hand to give it to the friend of +her childhood. "_Au revoir, preux chevalier_! You will come to my +birthday party? Promise!" Then, as he still shook his head: "Trevor, if +you don't bring him, I shall come all by myself and fetch him." + +"No, you mustn't do that," Mordaunt answered with decision. + +"Then will you bring him?" + +"I will do my best," he promised gravely. + +"Will you really? Oh, thank you, Trevor. I shall expect you then, Bertie. +Good-bye!" + +Her hand lay for a couple of seconds in his, and he bent low over it, but +he did not speak in answer. + +She went out of the room with the silent Englishman. He heard her +laughing as they went downstairs. He heard her gay young voice a while +longer in the hall below. Then came the throb of a motor and the closing +of the street door. She was gone. + +He stood quite motionless, listening to the taxi as it whirred away. And +even after he ceased to hear it he did not move. He was gazing straight +before him, and his eyes were the eyes of a man in a dream. They saw +naught. + +Stiffly at last he moved, and something like a shudder went through him. +He crossed the room heavily, with the gait of one stricken suddenly old. +He sat down again at the writing-table, and took up the pen that he had +dropped--how long ago! + +He even wrote a few words slowly, laboriously, still with that fixed look +in his eyes. Then quite suddenly he was assailed by a violent tremor. He +pushed back his chair with a sharp exclamation, half-rose, then as +swiftly flung himself forward and lay across the table, face downwards, +gasping horribly, almost choking. His hands were clenched, and hammered +upon the papers littered there. The pen rolled unheeded over the polished +wood and fell upon the floor. + +Seconds passed into minutes. Gradually the bony fists ceased their +convulsive tattoo. The laboured breathing grew less agonized. The man's +rigid pose relaxed. But still he lay with his arms outspread and his head +bowed between them, a silent image of despair. + +Slowly the minutes crawled by. Down in the street below a newsboy was +yelling unintelligibly, and in the distance a barrel-organ jangled the +latest music-hall craze; but he was deep, deep in an abyss of suffering, +very far below the surface of things. There was something almost boyishly +forlorn in his attitude. With his face hidden, he looked pathetically +young. + +The sound of the opening door recalled him at last, and he started +upright. It was Holmes with the evening paper. + +The man spied the pen upon the floor and stooped for it. Bertrand +stretched out a quivering hand, took it from him, and made as if he would +resume his writing. But the pen only wandered aimlessly over the paper, +and in a moment fell again from his nerveless fingers. + +Holmes paused. Bertrand sat with his head on his hand as if unaware of +him. + +"Can I get you anything, sir?" he ventured. + +Bertrand made a slight movement. "If I might have--a little brandy," he +said, speaking with obvious effort. + +"Brandy? I'll get it at once, sir," said Holmes, and was gone with the +words. + +Returning, he found Bertrand so far master of himself as to force a +smile, but his face was ghastly. There was a blue, pinched look about his +mouth that Holmes, reminiscent of his hospital days, did not like. He had +seen that look before. + +But the first taste of spirit dispelled it. Very courteously Bertrand +thanked him. + +"You are a good man, Holmes. And I think that you are my friend, yes?" + +"Very pleased to do anything I can for you, sir," said Holmes. + +"Ah! Then I will ask of you one little thing. It is that you remember +that this weakness--this malady of a moment--remain a secret between us +two--between--us--two. _Vous comprenez; non_?" + +His eyes, very bright and searching, looked with a certain peremptoriness +into the man's face, and Holmes, accustomed to obey, made instinctive +response. + +"You mean as I am not to mention it to Mr. Mordaunt, sir?" + +"That is what I mean, Holmes." + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes. "You're feeling better, I hope, sir?" + +Very slowly de Montville rose to his feet, and stood, holding to the back +of his chair. + +"I am--quite well," he said impressively. + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes again, and withdrew, shaking his head +dubiously as soon as he was out of the Frenchman's sight. + +As for de Montville, he went slowly across to the window and, leaning +against the sash, gazed down upon the empty street. + +Not until he heard Mordaunt's step outside more than half an hour later +did he move, and then very abruptly he returned to the writing-table and +seized the pen anew. He was writing with feverish rapidity when Mordaunt +entered. + +Very quietly Mordaunt came up and looked over his shoulder. "My boy," he +said, "I am very sorry, but that is not legible." + +His tone was unreservedly kind, and Bertrand jerked up his head as if +surprised. + +He surveyed the page before him with pursed lips, then flashed a quick +look into Mordaunt's face. + +"It is true," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "I also am sorry." + +"Leave it," Mordaunt said. "You are looking fagged, Yes, I mean it. It +will keep." + +"But I have done nothing!" Bertrand protested, with outspread hands. + +"No? Well, I don't believe you ought to be doing anything at present. +Come and sit down." Then, peremptorily, as Bertrand hesitated: "I won't +have you overworking yourself. Understand that! I have had trouble +enough to get you off the sick list as it is." + +He spoke with that faint smile of his that placed most men at their ease +with him. Bertrand turned impulsively and grasped his hand. + +"You have been--you are--more than a brother to me, monsieur," he said, +with feeling. "And I--I--ah! Permit me to tell you--I--am glad that +Mademoiselle has placed herself in your keeping. It was a great surprise, +yes. But I am glad--from my heart. She will be safe--and happy--with +you." + +He spoke with great earnestness; his sincerity was shining in his eyes. +Mordaunt, looking straight down into them, saw no other emotion than +sheer friendliness, a friendliness that touched him, coming from one who +was so nearly friendless. + +"I shall do my best to make her so," he made grave reply. "She has been +telling me about you, Bertrand." + +"Ah!" The Frenchman's eyes interrogated him for a moment and instantly +fell away. "I am surprised," he said, "to be remembered after so long. +No, I had not forgotten her; but that is different, _n'est-ce pas_? I +think that no one would easily forget her." He smiled as though +involuntarily at some reminiscence. "_Christine et le bon Cinders_!" he +said in his soft voice. "We were all friends together. We were--" again +his eyes darted up to meet the Englishman's level scrutiny--"what you +call 'pals,' monsieur." + +Mordaunt smiled. "So I gathered. It happened at Valpré, I understand." + +Bertrand nodded. His eyes grew dreamy, grew remote. "Yes," he said +slowly, "it happened at Valpré. The little one was lonely. We made games +in the sand. We chased the crabs; we explored the caves; we played +together--as children." He stifled a sudden sigh, and rose. "_Eh bien_," +he said, "we cannot be children for ever. We grow up--some quick--some +slow--but all grow up at last." + +He broke off, and took up the evening paper to cut the leaves. + +Mordaunt watched him in silence--a silence through which in some fashion +he conveyed his sympathy; for after a moment Bertrand spoke again, still +dexterously occupied with his task. + +"Ah! you understand," he said. "I have no need to explain to you that +this meeting with my little friend who belonged to the happy days that +are past has given me almost as much of pain as of pleasure. I do not try +to explain--because you understand." + +"You will get over it, my dear fellow," Mordaunt said, with quiet +conviction. + +"You think it?" Bertrand glanced up momentarily. + +"I do," Mordaunt answered, with a very kindly smile. "In fact, I think, +with all due respect to you, that you are younger than you feel." + +"Ah!" There was not much conviction in Bertrand's response. He +stood up and handed the paper to Mordaunt with a quick bow. "But--all +the same--you understand?" he questioned, with a touch of anxiety. + +"Of course I understand," Mordaunt answered gently. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BIRTHDAY PARTY + + +"At last!" said Chris. + +It was her birthday party, and she stood at the head of the stairs by her +aunt's side, receiving her guests. + +Very young she looked, a child still, despite her twenty-one years, and +supremely happy. Her aunt, one of those ladies whose very smile is in +itself an act of condescension, was treating her with unusual +graciousness that night, and there was not a star awry in Chris's +firmament. + +She had just caught a glimpse of her _fiancé_ in the crowd below her, and +a hasty second glance had shown her that he was not unaccompanied. A +slight man, olive-skinned, with a very small, black moustache and quick +eyes that searched upwards restlessly, was ascending the stairs with him. +In the instant that she looked those eyes found her, and flashed their +quick recognition. + +Chris waved her fan in eager greeting. "Ah, there he is!" she cried +aloud. + +"My dear child!" said Aunt Philippa. + +Impetuously Chris turned to her. "He is a friend of mine, and Trevor's +secretary. I told Trevor to bring him. He is French, and his name is +Bertrand." + +Her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she made this hasty +explanation. She had purposely left it till a crowded moment, for Aunt +Philippa was apt to be very searching in her inquiries, and Chris shrank +at all times from being catechized by this somewhat formidable relative +of hers. + +"Trevor knows all about him; they are friends," she added, in response to +a slight drawing of the brows, with which she was tragically well +acquainted. + +"All?" murmured Max in her ear from her other side, with a mischievous +twinkle in his green eyes. + +Chris ignored him, but she turned a vivid crimson, and the hand she +stretched to Mordaunt was quivering with agitation. But in his quiet +grasp it became still. She looked up into his eyes and smiled a welcome +with recovered self-possession. + +"Oh, Trevor, here you are! And you've brought Bertie as you promised." +She gave her other hand to Bertrand with the words, but she did not speak +to him--she went on talking to her _fiancé_. "I've had a tremendous day, +and thank you a million times for--you know what. It's a good thing you +booked your dances beforehand, for I haven't any left." + +"Not one for me?" murmured Bertrand, as he bent over her hand. + +She turned to him with a radiant smile. "Yes, yes, of course! Should I be +likely to forget all old pal like you? Trevor, will you introduce him to +Aunt Philippa?" + +"My friend Mr. Bertrand," said Mordaunt promptly. + +Mrs. Forest acknowledged the introduction with extreme chilliness. She +strongly disapproved of Chris's faculty for developing unexpected +friendships. The child was so regrettably free-and-easy in all her ways. +Of course, if Trevor Mordaunt approved of their intimacy, and apparently +he did, there was nothing to be said, but she herself could not regard it +with favour. Once more she congratulated herself that her +responsibilities where Chris was concerned were nearly at an end. + +But if her greeting were cold, Bertrand scarcely had time to remark it, +for his attention was instantly diverted by the red-haired youth who +lounged behind her. Max, whose presence had been annoying his aunt all +day, thrust out a welcoming hand to the new-comer. + +"Hullo!" he said. "You, is it?" + +Bertrand raised his brows. He gave his hand, after an instant's +hesitation, with a non-committing, "Myself--yes." + +Max drew him aside out of the crowd. "It's all right. I'm Chris's +brother, and I shan't give you away. But how long do you expect to remain +incog., I wonder? I knew your face the moment I saw you on the stairs." + +"You know me?" said Bertrand, drawing back a little. + +"Of course I know you. Who could help it? Your face is one of the best +known in Europe. So you are the hero that Chris used to worship at +Valpré! She mentioned the one fact to me, but not the other. She knows, I +suppose?" + +"Ah, yes, but it is a secret." Bertrand spoke wearily, as if reluctant to +discuss the matter. "It is not my desire to be recognized. She knows that +also." + +"I never knew Chris could keep a secret before," commented Max. + +A quick gleam shot up in the Frenchman's eyes. "Then you do not know her +very well," he said. + +Max smiled shrewdly, but did not contest the point. He seldom argued, and +Chris herself at this moment intervened. + +"Bertie, I've saved the supper extras for you. Don't forget. Max, you +know most of the people here. Do introduce him, or find Jack--he will. +I'm dancing the first with Trevor. Good-bye!" + +She flashed her smile upon him, and was gone. Bertrand stood and watched +her as she went away through the throng with Trevor Mordaunt. Everyone +watched her, and nearly everyone smiled. She was so naïvely, so sublimely +happy. + +Her gay young laugh rang out as they began to dance. "Isn't it fun?" she +said; and then, with her eyes turned to his, "Trevor, I've such a crowd +of things to thank you for that I don't know where to begin." + +"Then, my dear child, don't begin!" he said, with his indulgent smile. + +She frowned at him. "You are not to call me 'child' any longer. I'm +grown-up." + +His smile remained. "Since when?" he said. + +"That's a rude question which I am not going to answer. But, Trevor, +you--you shouldn't have sent me all that money. It's much more than I +want." + +"I'm glad to hear it," he said; and, after a moment, "I hope you will +spend it profitably." + +"Oh, yes." Eagerly she made reply. "I've bought a new collar for +Cinders--such a beauty, with bells! I thought it would be so useful if he +went rabbiting." + +"What! To warn the rabbits?" + +"Oh, no! I never thought of that! Poor Cinders! It would spoil his sport, +wouldn't it? And he's such a sportsman. I suppose I shall have to keep it +for Sundays after all. What a pity! I thought it would help us to find +him if he got lost." + +"But he always turns up again," said Mordaunt consolingly. + +Her blue eyes flashed their sunshine. "Yes, yes, of course. And another +thing I did which ought to please you very much." + +The indulgence turned to approval on Mordaunt's face. "I can guess what +that was," he said. + +"Can you?" Chris looked delighted. "Well, you mustn't tell Aunt Philippa, +because she would call it shocking extravagance, and I really only did it +to please you." + +"Oh! Then I am afraid I haven't guessed right." Mordaunt's expression +became one of grave doubt. + +Chris laughed aloud. "You will have to guess again. No, please go on +dancing. One only gets hotter standing still." + +"But, Chris," he said, "I want to know." + +His tone was perfectly kind, as gentle as it always was when he addressed +her, and yet the quick glance that she threw him was not without a hint +of misgiving. The slender young body stiffened ever so slightly against +his arm. + +"I wonder if Bertie has found a partner," she said. "Do you think we +ought to go and see?" + +He guided her towards the entrance. A good many people were standing +about, and one after another accosted Chris. She answered blithely +enough, her hand still upon her _fiancé's_ arm, but yet there was that +about her that made him aware that she was not wholly at her ease. When +he drew her towards a room beyond that led to a conservatory, she hung +back. + +"I want to find Bertie. Where is he?" + +Jack Forest appeared at that moment, and she turned to him with evident +relief. "Oh, Jack, where is Mr. Bertrand? I told Max to hand him over to +you. He knows no one, and I do want him to have a good time." + +"Be easy, my child," said Jack, with a cheery grin. "He is having the +time of his life. The mater has taken him under her wing." + +"Jack!" Chris stood aghast. + +"Don't agitate yourself," said Jack. "It's all serene. He is thoroughly +enjoying himself. Where are you two off to? Going to sit out in the dark? +Shall I come and mount guard?" + +"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" protested Chris. "Jack, remember our dance is +the next." + +Jack bowed with his hand on his heart. "I don't forget such things. Make +the most of your time, Trevor. It's nearly up." + +He departed with a careless swagger, and Chris turned to her quiet +companion and gave a little shiver. "Why did we leave off dancing? I'm +cold." + +He led her across the hall to a settee. Someone had thrown a scarf upon +it. He put it round her shoulders. + +"It isn't mine," she said, "and it isn't that sort of cold either. I hope +Aunt Philippa isn't teasing Bertie. Do you think she is?" + +"I think he can take care of himself," Mordaunt said. + +"Do you? I don't. Aunt Philippa is sure to say horrid things to him. I +think we ought to go and find them--really." + +There was a note of pleading in her voice, but Mordaunt did not respond +to it. He sat and contemplated her, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. + +He leaned forward at last and spoke very quietly. "Chris," he said, +"forgive me for asking, but--you have paid your debts?" + +The colour surged up all over her fair face. She began to pluck +restlessly at her fan. But she said no word. Only as he took it gravely +from her, she glanced up as though compelled, and for a single instant +sheer panic looked at him out of her eyes. + +"My dear," he said, "will you attend to the matter to-morrow?" + +But still she was silent, quiveringly, piteously silent. The colour had +gone out of her face now; she was as white as the dress she wore. + +"You will?" he said gently. + +She made a little sound that was like a repressed sob, and put her hand +sharply to her throat. + +"You will?" he said again. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +He dismissed the matter instantly, opened the fan he had taken from her, +and began to admire it. + +"Jack gave it to me," she said. "It's a birthday present. He always gives +me nice things. So do you, Trevor. Your pendant is the loveliest thing I +have ever seen." + +He had sent her a pendant of turquoise and pearl, and it hung upon her +neck at the moment. She fingered it lovingly. + +"I shall go to bed in it," she said, "so as to have it all night long. It +feels so delicious. I wish I could see it. It was the very thing I saw in +Bond Street a few weeks ago, and wanted to wear at Hilda's wedding." She +broke off with a sudden sigh. "It will be horrid when Hilda's married." + +"Will it?" he said. + +"Yes, horrid," she repeated with vehemence. "Aunt Philippa is going to +turn all her attention to me then. Of course, I know she is very kind, +but--well, I feel as if this is my last week of freedom. I shall be +almost glad when--" She broke off abruptly. "Do let us go and rescue +Bertie," she said, "before we get swallowed up in the crowd." + +He got up at once and silently offered his arm. She slipped her hand +within it, and gave it a little squeeze. + +"We'll dance to the _finale_ next time," she said lightly. "It's much +more fun than talking." + +She added carelessly, as they moved away together: "By the way, I had my +photograph taken this morning. I don't know if you will like it. Shall I +send you one?" + +"Do," he said. And after a moment, smiling faintly: "Was that the thing +that was to please me?" + +She nodded, not looking at him. + +He laid his hand for an instant upon hers. "Thank you, Chris," he said. + +She turned instantly and smiled upon him. "You can give it to Bertie if +you don't like it," she made blithe response. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +PALS + + +"Ah! now for a good talk," said Chris. "We have got at least half an +hour. Are you tired, Bertie, or only bored?" + +But he was neither, he assured her. He had enjoyed his evening greatly. +No, he had not danced. He had found it enough diverting to look on +tranquilly in a corner. _Mais oui_, everybody had been most kind, +including his hostess, to whom he paid a special tribute of appreciation. +He had found her as gracious as she was beautiful. + +"Did she try to pump you?" asked Chris. + +He raised his brows in humorous bewilderment. But to pump--what was it? +To ask questions? Ah yes, she had asked him several questions. He had not +answered all of them. He feared she had found him a little stupid. But +she had been very patient with him, ah! so patient--he spread out his +hands, with the old, quick smile, and Chris's peal of laughter echoed far +and wide. + +"Bertie, you're too heavenly for words! Then she didn't find out about +Valpré? She thinks--I suppose she thinks--that Trevor introduced us to +each other." + +"I do not know what she thinks," the Frenchman made answer. "But no, we +did not speak of Valpré! That is a secret, _hein_?" + +"Not exactly a secret. I told Max. But Aunt Philippa--oh, she is so +different. She never understands things," said Chris. "I daresay she will +find out from Trevor as it is; but I hope she won't--I do hope she +won't!" + +He smiled comprehendingly. "But Mr. Mordaunt--he understands, yes?" he +said. + +She hesitated. "I never told even him about that night in the Magic Cave, +Bertie." + +"No?" he said, his quick eyes upon her. "But why not?" + +She shook her head with vehemence. "I couldn't. Everyone--even Jack--made +such a fuss at the time--as if--as if"--she turned crimson--"I had done +something really wicked. I'm sure I don't know why. I always said so." + +There was defiance as well as distress in her voice. Bertrand leaned a +little towards her. + +"Mr. Mordaunt would not think like that," he said, with conviction. + +She looked at him dubiously. "I'm not so sure. He has extraordinary views +on some things. I never quite know how he will take anything. Other +people are the same. You are the only person I am quite sure of." + +He smiled, but not as if greatly elated. "That is because we are pals," +he said. + +"Yes, I know. It's good to have a pal who understands." Chris spoke a +little wistfully, but almost instantly dismissed the matter. "Why, I am +forgetting! You haven't seen Cinders yet, and I told him you were coming. +He is upstairs. Shall we go and find him?" + +They went up together. Half-way up she slipped her hand into his, with a +soft little laugh. "It's like old times, Bertie. Don't break the spell, +_preux chevalier_. Let us pretend--just for to-night!" + +They found Cinders imprisoned in a little sitting-room at the top of the +house which Chris shared with her cousin. His greeting of Bertrand was +effusive, even rapturous. Like his mistress, he never forgot a friend. + +Afterwards they sat and talked of many things, chiefly connected with +Valpré. There was so much to remember--Mademoiselle Gautier and her +queer, conventual prejudices, Manon, the maid-of-all-work, and her funny +stories of the shore. + +"She quite believed in the spell," Chris said. "She almost frightened me +with it." + +"Without doubt there was a spell," said Bertrand gravely. + +"You really think so? I never believed in it after that night." + +"No?" he said. "And yet it was there." + +Chris peered at him. "You talk as if it were something quite +substantial," she said. + +"It was substantial," he made answer, and then with a sudden smile into +her wondering eyes: "As substantial, _chérie_, as my rope of sand that +was to make my work endure like--like the Sphinx and Cleopatra's Needle +and--and--" He broke off with his eloquent shrug, paused a moment, +then--"and--our friendship, if you will," he ended. + +"Ah, fancy your remembering that!" she said. "But I believe you remember +everything." + +"That is the spell," he said. + +"Is it, Bertie? And do you remember the duel, and how you wouldn't tell +me what it was all about? Tell me now!" she begged, as a child pleading +for a story. "I always wanted to know." + +But his face darkened instantly. "Not that, _petite_. He was bad. He was +_scélérat_. We will not speak of him." + +"But, Bertie, I'm grown-up now. I'm quite old enough to know," she urged, +with a coaxing hand upon his arm. + +He took the hand, turned it upwards, stroked the soft palm very +reverently. "I pray that you will never be old enough, Chris," he said, +and in the shaded lamplight she saw that his face had grown suddenly +melancholy, almost haggard. "The knowledge of evil is a poisonous thing. +Those who find it can never be young again." + +His manner awed her a little. She did not pursue the point with her +customary persistence. "Well, tell me what happened afterwards," she +said. "He got well again?" + +"Yes, _petite_." + +"And--you forgave each other?" + +"Never!" Bertrand raised his head and shot out the word with emphasis. + +"Never, Bertie?" Chris looked at him, slightly startled. + +He looked back at her, faintly smiling, but with the melancholy still in +his eyes. "Never," he repeated. "That shocks you, no?" + +"Not really," she said loyally. "I'm sure he was horrid. He looked it. +Then--you are enemies still?" + +"Enemies?" He shrugged his shoulders. "No, I think he would not consider +me as an enemy now." + +"And yet you never forgave him?" + +"No, never." Again his denial was emphatic. After a moment, seeing her +bewilderment, he proceeded to explain. "If he had apologized, if he had +retracted the insult, then it is possible that a reconciliation might +have been effected between us." + +"But he didn't?" said Chris. "Then what happened? Did he do nothing at +all?" + +"For a long time--nothing," said Bertrand. + +"And then?" + +"Then," very simply he made reply, "he ruined me." + +"Bertie!" She gazed at him with tragedy dawning in her eyes. "He ruined +you! He!" + +"He supplied the evidence against me," Bertrand said. "But it was clever. +He spread a net--so"--he flung out his hands with an explanatory +gesture--"a net that I see not nor suspect, and then when I am entrapped +he draw it close--close, and--I am a prisoner." He shut his teeth with a +click, and for an instant smiled--the smile of the man who fights with +his back against the wall. + +But the tragedy had grown from shadow to reality in the turquoise blue +eyes of the girl beside him. "Oh, Bertie," she said, with a break in her +voice, "then it was all my fault--mine!" + +He turned towards her swiftly. "No, no, no! Who has said that? It is not +true!" he declared, with vehemence. + +"You said it yourself--almost," she told him. "And it is true, for if you +hadn't fought him it would never have happened. Oh, Bertie! I'm beginning +to think it was a dreadful pity I ever went to Valpré!" + +He caught her hands and held them. "You shall not say it!" he declared +passionately. "You shall not think it! _Mignonne_, listen! Those days at +Valpré are to me the most precious, the most sacred, the most dear of my +life. They can never return, it is true. But the memory of them is mine +for ever. Of that can no one deprive me. While I live I shall cherish +them in my heart." + +He cheeked himself abruptly; she was gazing at him with a sort of +speculative wonder that had arrested the tragedy in her eyes. At his +sudden pause she began to smile. + +"Bertie, dear, forgive me, but I can't help thinking what a funny +Englishman you would have made! So you really don't think it was my +fault? I'm so glad. I should break my heart if it were." + +He stooped, catching her hands up to his lips, whispering inarticulately. + +She suffered him, half-laughing. "Silly Frenchman!" she said softly. + +And at that he looked up and let her go. "You are right," he said, +speaking rather thickly. "I am foolish. I am mad. And you--you have the +patience of an angel to support me thus." + +"Oh no," said Chris. "I'm not a bit like an angel. In fact, I'm rather +wicked sometimes--not very, you know, Bertie, only rather. Now let me +show you my presents. I brought them up here on purpose." + +So gaily she diverted the conversation, mainly because she had caught a +gleam of tears in her friend's eyes and was aware that they had not been +far from her own. It would never do for them to sit crying together on +her birthday night. Besides, it was too ridiculous, for what was there to +cry about? Bertrand was in a better position now than he had been for +years. And she--and she--well, it was her birthday, and surely that was +reason enough for being glad. + +It was Bertrand who at length gently drew her attention to the time. They +had been talking for the best part of an hour. + +"Will not the supper dances be nearly finished?" he suggested. + +"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Chris. "Yes, long ago. We must fly. Say +good-bye to Cinders. You will come and see him again soon, won't you? +Come just as often as you can." + +At the door she paused a moment, slipped a warm hand into his, and for +the first time shyly broke her silence upon the subject of her +approaching marriage. + +"I'm so glad you are coming to live with us when we are married," she +said. "I shall never feel lonely with you there." + +"You would not be lonely without me," he made quick response. "You will +have always your husband." + +She caught her breath, and then laughed. "To be sure. I hadn't thought of +that. But Trevor is always busy, and he is going to write a book too." +She looked at him with sudden mischief in her eyes. "Yes, I am very glad +you are coming," she said again. "When he doesn't want you with him you +can come and play with me. And when it's summer"--her eyes fairly +danced--"we'll go for picnics, Bertie, lots of picnics. You'll like that, +_preux chevalier_?" + +He smiled back upon her; who could have helped it? But he stifled a sigh +as he smiled. Would life be always a picnic to her, he asked himself? He +could not imagine it otherwise, and yet he knew that even upon this child +of mirth and innocence the reality of life must dawn some day. Would it +be a gracious dawning of pearly tints and roselit radiance, gradually +filling that eager young soul to the brim with the greater joys of life? +Or would it be fiery and terrible, a blinding, relentless burst of light, +from which she would shrink appalled, discerning the wrath of the gods +before ever she had realized their bounty? + +Could it be thus with her, his little comrade, his bird of Paradise, his +darling? He thought not. He believed not. And yet deep in the heart of +him he feared. + +And because of that lurking fear he vowed silently over the little +friendly hand that lay so confidingly in his that never while breath +remained in his body would he leave her until he knew her happiness--the +ultimate happiness of her womanhood--to be assured. + +It seemed to him that it was for this alone that he had been introduced +once more into her book of life. All his hopes and dreams had passed; he +was an old man before his time; but this one thing, it seemed, was left +to him. For a while longer his name would figure with hers across the +page. Only when the page turned his part would be done. She would not +need him then. She would be a woman; and--_eh bien_, it was only the +child Chris who could ever be expected to need him now. When she ceased +to be a child the need--if such, indeed, existed--would be for ever past; +and he would be no more to her than a memory--the memory of one who had +played with her a while in the happy land of her childhood and had shared +with her the picnics of those summer days. + +This was the sole remaining aspiration of Bertrand de Montville--the man +who in the arrogance of his youth had diced with the gods, and had lost +the cast. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A REVELATION + + +"My dear, it is quite useless for you to attempt to justify your conduct, +for it was simply inexcusable. No argument can possibly alter that fact. +Everyone was waiting about for a considerable time in the supper-room, +desirous of drinking your health, while you, it transpires, were hiding +in a corner with this very questionable foreigner whom Trevor has been +eccentric enough to befriend, but of whom I can discover practically +nothing." + +"But Trevor knows all about him, Aunt Philippa," pleaded Chris. + +"That," said Aunt Philippa, "may or may not be the case. But so long as +you are in my charge, I, and not Trevor, am the one to direct your choice +of acquaintances, and I very strongly object to the inclusion of this +Frenchman in the number. It is my desire, Chris, that you do not see him +again during the rest of the time that you are under my roof. I intend to +speak to Trevor upon the matter at the earliest opportunity. I consider +that, in the face of what has occurred, he would be extremely ill-advised +to retain this unknown foreigner in his employment, though I should +imagine he has already arrived at that conclusion for himself. I could +see that he was seriously displeased by your behaviour last night." + +"Oh, was he?" said Chris blankly. "He didn't say so." + +"He probably realized that it would be useless to express his displeasure +at such a time. But let me warn you, Chris. He is not a man to stand any +trifling. I have heard it from several quarters. Jack, as you are aware, +knows him well, and he will tell you the same. You may try his patience +too far, and that, I presume, is not your intention. Should it happen, I +think that you would regret it all your life." + +"But I haven't trifled! I don't trifle!" protested Chris, divided between +distress and indignation. + +Aunt Philippa smiled unpleasantly--she seldom displayed any other variety +of smile. "That, my dear, is very much a matter of opinion. You had +better go now to Hilda. She is waiting to see your bridesmaid's dress +tried on." + +Chris went, with a worried pucker between her brows. How curious it was +that some people failed so completely to take a reasonable view of +things! They made mountains out of molehills, and expected her to climb +them--she, whose unwary feet were accustomed to trip so lightly along +easy ways. And Trevor too--she caught her breath with a sharp shiver--was +he really seriously displeased with her? He had given no hint of it when +they had danced together, save that he had been somewhat grave and +silent. But then, he was naturally so. She had not thought much of it; +in fact, she had been thinking mainly of Bertie. + +And here a sudden throb of dismay sent the blood to her heart. Aunt +Philippa was going to speak to him upon this subject, was going to +suggest unspeakable things, was going to talk over her conduct with him +and make him furious in earnest. And then it would all come out about her +having met Bertrand all those years ago. Trevor would mention that in the +natural course of things, and then Aunt Philippa would tell him--would +tell him-- + +"Chris, dear, what is the matter? You are as white as a ghost." + +It was Hilda's voice gently recalling her. She came to herself with a +start, and the hot blood rose to her cheeks with a rush. + +"Are you very tired after yesterday?" her cousin asked. "I am afraid you +got up too early." + +"Oh, no!" said Chris. "I wasn't early at all. I didn't ride this morning. +Jack has promised to come for me this evening instead." + +She diverted Hilda's attention desperately. She could not make +confidences in the presence of the dressmaker. Moreover, she was not sure +that she wanted to talk even to Hilda about her pal from Valpré. It was +true Hilda understood most things, but Aunt Philippa had somehow managed +to inspire her with a sense of guilt. She knew she could not speak of +Bertrand with ease to anyone now. + +Besides, there was no time. The moment she was free she must manage +somehow to communicate with Trevor. She must warn him of Aunt Philippa's +intentions. She must explain to him. + +She did not want him to know about that night in the Magic Cave. +Everyone who heard of it was shocked, everyone except Max, and he made +a speciality of never being shocked at anything. Why, it was even +possible--here a new thought leaped up and struck her an unexpected +blow--was it not more than possible that it was this self-same event that +had given rise to the insult that had led to the duel? Of course that +must be it! That was why Bertrand so persistently refused to enlighten +her. How was it she had never before thought of it? It was the truth of +course! How had she failed to see anything so glaringly apparent? + +Yes, it was the truth. She had blundered upon it unawares, and now she +surveyed it horror-stricken, remembering Bertrand's warning that the +knowledge of evil was a poisonous thing. So must Eve have felt when first +her eyes were opened to the wisdom of the gods. + +She was free at last, and sped up to her room. The scribbled message that +reached her _fiancé_ an hour later was only just legible, but it spoke +more eloquently of the state of mind of the writer than she knew. + +"DEAR TREVOR,-- + +"Aunt Philippa says you are angry with me. Please don't be. Really there +is nothing to be angry about, though she thinks there is, and she is +going to try and persuade you to send Bertie away. Trevor, don't listen +to her, will you? And, whatever you do, don't tell her about Valpré. I'm +very bothered about it. Do be as kind as you always are to + +"Your loving +CHRIS." + +Mordaunt's answering note reached her late in the afternoon just before +she set forth for her ride in the Park with Jack. + +"MY DEAR LITTLE CHRIS,-- + +"My love to your Aunt Philippa, and I am just off to Paris for the inside +of a week. I shall be back for your cousin's wedding. Ask her to reserve +her lecture till then. Our friend Bertrand sends his _amitiés_. I send +nothing, for you have it all. + +"Yours, +TREVOR." + +Chris kissed the note with a rush of tenderness--greater than she had +ever managed to bestow upon the writer. That brief response to her appeal +stirred her as she had never been stirred before. It was sweet of him to +trust her so. She would never forget it, never, as long as she lived. + +When Jack appeared to escort her, he noted her radiant face and shining +eyes with approval. + +"Why, you're looking almost pretty for once," he said. "What has happened +to bring it about? It must be a recipe worth having." + +"Don't be absurd!" she retorted, beaming upon him. "Who wants to be +pretty?" + +"It's better to be good certainly," he said. "I know you couldn't be +both. But what's the joke? I think you might let me help laugh." + +"There isn't a joke," she said. "And I'm not laughing. I've had a letter +from Trevor, that's all. And he's going to Paris." + +"Oh-ho!" said Jack. + +"Now you're horrid!" she protested. "I don't want him to go in the +least." + +"Of course not," said Jack. "I've observed how remarkably depressed you +were by the news." + +"I shall be cross with you in a minute," said Chris. + +"Heaven forbid!" said Jack. "When is he coming back?" + +"In time for Hilda's wedding." + +"And does he take the French secretary with him?" + +"Oh, no, he can't go to France. I mean--I mean--" + +Chris stopped in sudden confusion. + +"I know what you mean," said Jack. "They would take too keen an interest +in him over there. Isn't that it?" + +"How did you know?" said Chris. + +He laughed. "The proverbial little bird! I might add that a good many +people know by this time." + +"Oh, Jack, do they?" Chris looked at him in consternation. "He didn't +want anyone to know." + +"My dear child, in that case he should not have courted publicity as the +guest of the evening last night." + +"Jack! He wasn't the guest of the evening! How dare you say such things!" + +Chris's rare displeasure actually was aroused now. Her slight figure +stiffened, and she tapped her knee with her riding-switch. She never +touched her animal with this weapon, whatever his idiosyncrasies, and +certainly the horses she rode generally behaved with docility. + +Jack surveyed her with amused eyes as they turned up under the trees. +"All right," he said imperturbably. "He wasn't. My mistake, no doubt. But +where on earth were you hiding during the supper extras? He was missing +too. Curious, wasn't it?" + +Chris came out of her temper with a winning gesture of appeal. "Jack +dear, don't! I've heard such a lot about it from Aunt Philippa already. +And why shouldn't I talk to my pals? You wouldn't like it if I didn't +talk to you sometimes." + +"Is he that sort of pal?" asked Jack. + +She nodded. "Just that sort. And Trevor knows all about it and +understands. I've just had a line from him to tell me so." + +"Have you, though?" said Jack. "Then all I can say is Trevor is a +brick--a very special kind of brick--and I hope you realize it." + +"He's just the sweetest man in the world," said Chris with enthusiasm. +"He is never horrid about things, and he never thinks what isn't." + +"Lucky for you!" said Jack. + +"Why?" She turned towards him sharply. + +He began to smile. "Because, my dear, you have rather an unfortunate +knack of making things appear--as they are not." + +"I don't know what you mean," she protested. "It's very horrid of people +to imagine things, and it certainly isn't my fault. Trevor understands +that. He always understands." + +"Let us hope he always will," said Jack. + +"He would trust me even if he didn't," said Chris. + +"At the same time," said Jack, "I shouldn't try his faith too far if I +were you. If you ever overstepped it, I have a notion that it might +be--well, somewhat unpleasant for you." + +He spoke the words with a smile, but the silence with which they were +received had in it something that was tragic. Chris was gazing straight +before her as they rode. Her expression was curiously stony, as if, by +some means, her customary animation had been suspended. Jack wondered a +little. After a moment she spoke, without looking round. "Jack!" + +"Your humble servant!" said Jack. + +"I'm not laughing," she said. "I want you to tell me something. You know +Trevor. You knew him years before I did. Have you ever seen him--really +angry?" + +"Great Jove! yes," said Jack. + +"Many times?" There was a little quiver in her voice, but it did not +sound exactly agitated. + +"No, not many times. He isn't the sort of fellow to let himself go, you +know," said Jack. + +"No," she said. "But what is he like--when he is angry?" + +Jack considered. "He's rather like a devil that's been packed in ice for +a very long time. He doesn't expand, he contracts. He emits a species of +condensed fury that has a disastrous effect upon the object thereof. He +is about the last man in the world that I should choose to quarrel with." + +"But why?" she said. "Would you be afraid of him?" + +Jack considered this point too quite gravely and impartially. "I really +don't know, Chris," he said at last. "I believe I should be." + +"He can be terrible, then," she said, as if stating a conclusion rather +than asking a question. + +"More or less," Jack admitted. "But he is never unreasonable. I have +never seen him angry without good cause." + +"And then--I suppose he is merciless?" + +"Quite," said Jack. "I saw him shoot a Kaffir once for knocking a wounded +man on the head. It was no more than the brute deserved. I was lying +wounded myself, and he took my revolver to do it with. But it was a nasty +jolt for the Kaffir. He knew exactly what was going to happen to him and +why, before it happened. Afterwards, when Trevor came back to me, he was +smiling, so I suppose it did him good. He's a very deliberate chap. Some +people call him cold-blooded. He never acts on impulse. And I've never +known him make a mistake." + +"I see." Chris swallowed once or twice as if she felt an obstruction +in her throat. "I expect he would be like that with anyone," she said. +"I mean if he had reason to be angry with anyone, he wouldn't spare +them--whatever they were. I always felt he was like that." + +"He's one of the best chaps in the world," said Jack warmly. + +She assented, but not with the enthusiasm that had marked her earlier +eulogy. She seemed, in fact, to have become a little _distrait_, and +Jack, remarking the fact, suggested a canter. + +They met several people whom they knew before they turned homewards, and +it was not until they were leaving the Park that any further conversation +was possible. + +Then very suddenly Chris reined in and spoke. "Jack, before we go back, I +want to ask you something." + +"Well?" said Jack. + +She made a pathetic little gesture towards him, and touched his knee +with her riding-switch. Her blue eyes besought him very earnestly. "Jack, +we--we are pals, aren't we? Or I couldn't possibly ask it of you. Jack, +I--I've been foolish--and extravagant. And--" she became suddenly +breathless--"I want twenty pounds--to pay some debts. Jack, could +you--would you--" + +"You monkey!" said Jack. + +"I couldn't help it," she declared piteously. "I've spent a frightful lot +of money lately. I don't know how it goes. It runs away like water. But +I--want to get out of debt, Jack. If you will help me just this once, +I'll pay you back when--when--when I'm married." + +"Good heavens, child!" he said. "You shall have it twice over if you +like. But why on earth didn't you tell me before? Don't you know it's +very naughty to run up debts?" + +She nodded. "Yes, I know. But I couldn't help it. There were things I +wanted. And London is such an expensive place. You do understand, dear +Jack, don't you?" + +Jack thought he did. He was, moreover, too fond of his young cousin to +treat her with severity. But he considered it his duty to deliver a brief +lecture on the dangers of insolvency, to which Chris listened with +becoming docility, thanking him with a quick, sweet smile when he had +done. + +Jack did not flatter himself that he had succeeded in making a very deep +impression. He wondered a little what Trevor Mordaunt would have said +under similar circumstances. + +"I hope she will be straightforward with him," was his reflection. "But +she is a Wyndham of the Wyndhams, and everyone knows that her father +didn't suffer over-much from that complaint." + +Which was true. Chris's father had been one of those baffling persons who +are always in want of money and yet seem quite incapable of giving a +clear account of their wants. His affairs had been in a perpetual muddle +from the beginning of his career, and had probably ended so. + +"Most unsatisfactory!" as Aunt Philippa invariably remarked, as a +suitable conclusion to any discussion on the subject of her brother or +any of his family. How she personally had managed to escape the general +blight that rested upon them was a mystery that no one--not Aunt Philippa +herself--had ever been able to solve. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MISGIVINGS + + +Hilda Forest's wedding was one of the events of the season. All London +went to it. Lord Percy Davenant, the bridegroom, was a man of many +friends, and the bride's mother prided herself upon the width of her own +social circle. + +In the midst of the fuss and tumult the bride, very grave and serene, +with shining eyes, went her appointed way. Everyone was loud in her +praise. Her bearing was admirable. She was as one on whom a veil of +happiness had fallen, and external things scarcely touched her. + +She went through her part steadfastly and well, forgetful utterly of the +watching crowds, conscious only of one being in all that critical +multitude, holding only one thought in the silent sanctuary of her soul. + +And Chris, the chief bridesmaid, walking alone behind her, watched and +marvelled. She liked Lord Percy Davenant. He was big, good-natured, +rollicking, and many a joke had they had together. But no faintest tinge +of romance hung about him in her opinion. She could not with the utmost +effort of the imagination see what there was in him to bring that light +into Hilda's eyes. + +It was odd, thought Chris, very odd. If it had been Trevor, now--She +could quite easily have understood it if Hilda had fallen in love with +him. And they would have been eminently well suited to one another, too. +Yes, it was very strange, quite unaccountable! Here she remembered that +Trevor was probably somewhere in the crowd behind her, and peeped over +her shoulder surreptitiously to get a glimpse of him. + +She was not successful, but she caught the eye of one of the bridesmaids +immediately behind her, who leaned forward with a merry smile to whisper, +"Your turn next!" + +Chris turned back sharply. The words had a curious effect upon her; they +gave her almost a sensation of shock. Her turn next to face this ordeal +through which Hilda was passing with such supreme confidence! Would she +feel as Hilda felt when she came to stand with Trevor before the altar? +Would that thrill of deep sincerity be in her voice also as she repeated +the vows irrevocable which were even now leaving Hilda's lips? Would her +eyes meet his with the same pure gladness of love made perfect? + +A sudden tremor went through her. She shivered from head to foot. The +scent of the flowers she held--Hilda's flowers and her own--seemed to +turn her sick. She felt overpowered--lost! + +Desperately she clutched her wavering self-control. This ghastly, +unspeakable doubt must not conquer her. No one must know it--no one must +see! + +But she was as one slipping down a steep incline, faster and faster every +second. The beating of her heart rose up and deafened her. It was like +someone beating a tattoo in the church. She could not hear another word +of the service. And she was suffocating with the nauseous sweetness of +the bridal flowers. Wildly she looked around her. Where was Trevor? He +would help her. He would understand--he always understood. But she sought +him in vain. There was only the long line of bridesmaids behind her and +a sea of indistinct faces on each side. + +She lifted her head and gasped. She felt as if she were being smothered +in flowers. Their heavy perfume stifled her. She understood now why some +people wouldn't have flowers at their funerals. She had always thought it +odd before. + +She was slipping more and more rapidly down that fatal slope. The +sunlight that lay in a great bar of vivid colours across the church +danced before her eyes. She no longer saw the bridal couple in front of +her. They had faded quite away, and in their stead was a terrible abyss +of flowers--bridal flowers that made her sick and faint. + +She swayed as she stood. Who was that speaking? Certain solemn words had +pierced her reeling brain. She heard them as if they came from another +world-- + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." + +Those words would be uttered over her next. Perhaps they were meant +for her even now. Surely it was her own wedding and not Hilda's, +after all! She was being married, and she wasn't ready! Oh, it was +horrible--horrible! And where was Trevor, or Bertie, or someone--anyone— +to hold her back from that dreadful, scented darkness? + +Ah! An arm supporting her! A steady hand that took the flowers away! +Trevor at last! She turned and clung to him weakly, crying like a +frightened child. Her knees would not support her any longer, they +doubled under her weight. But he lifted her without effort, almost as if +she had been a child indeed, and carried her away. + +He bore her to an open door that led out from the vestry, and there in +the fresh air Chris revived. He set her on her feet, and made her lean +against him. Jack hovered in the background, but he dismissed him. + +"She is all right again. Go and tell your mother. It was an atmosphere to +asphyxiate an ox." + +Chris laughed very shakily. "I'm so sorry, Trevor. Did I make a scene?" + +She would have withdrawn from his support, but he kept his arm about her. +"No, dear. I chanced to be looking at you, and I saw you were going to +faint. I am glad I was able to get you away in time." + +"I couldn't help it," she said, not looking at him. "It was--it was--the +flowers." + +"I know," he said gently. + +She leaned her head against him. It was throbbing painfully. "Oh, +Trevor--it wasn't--only--the flowers," she whispered. + +He put his hand over her aching temples. "Tell me presently, dear," he +said. + +She reached up and found the hand, drew it down over her face, and held +it so for seconds, speaking no word. She touched it softly with her lips +at last, and let it go. + +"I'm well now," she said. "Take me back." + +He looked at her searchingly. "You are sure?" + +She smiled at him, though her eyes were still heavy. "Yes, I'll be quite +good. I mustn't spoil Hilda's wedding by being silly, must I? You haven't +brought Bertie, I suppose?" + +He smiled a little. "He didn't get an invitation." + +"Of course not. Trevor, you didn't think I was--flirting with him that +night?" + +"My dear child--no!" + +"Because I never flirt," said Chris very earnestly. "It's a horrid thing +to do. You'll never think that of me, will you? Or that I have ever +trifled with you--or anyone?" + +Trevor's eyes rested upon her with grave kindness. "My dear, why should I +think these things of you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "I don't know. Lots of people do. But you are +different. I think you understand. You'll stay after it's over and have a +talk, won't you?" + +"Yes," he said. + +She slipped her hand into his. "Now let's go back." + +They went back. The ceremony was very nearly over. Chris took her place +again, and followed the bride into the vestry afterwards. + +Later, at the crowded reception, she was among the merriest, and very few +noticed that she was paler than usual or that her eyes were deeply +shadowed. + +The wedded pair left early, and immediately afterwards the guests began +to disperse. Mordaunt, who had been making himself generally useful, +looked round for Chris as soon as a leisure moment arrived. But he looked +in vain; she was not to be found. + +He went through every room in search of her, but all to no purpose. For a +while he lingered, waiting for her, talking to the few people who +remained. But at length, as there was still no sign of her, he prepared +to take his departure also, with the intention of presenting himself +again later. + +He was actually on the doorstep when Jack came striding after him. "I +say, Chris wants you. I forgot to mention it. Make my apologies, for +Heaven's sake! She must have been waiting an hour or more." + +"What?" Mordaunt turned back sharply, frowning. + +"Don't scowl, there's a dear chap," said Jack. "I'm awfully sorry. I had +such a shoal of things to see to. She's upstairs, right at the top of the +house, first door you come to. She said you were to go up and have tea +with her and Cinders. Really, I'm horribly sorry." + +"All right. So you ought to be," Mordaunt said, and left him to his +regrets. + +He was somewhat breathless when he arrived outside the door of Chris's +little sanctum, but he did not pause on that account. He knocked with his +hand already upon the handle, and almost immediately turned it. + +"I can come in?" he asked. + +A muffled bark from Cinders was the only answer--a warning bark, as +though he would have the intruder tread softly. + +Mordaunt trod softly in consequence, softly entered, softly closed the +door. + +He found his little _fiancée_ crouched on the floor beside an ancient +sofa, her arms resting upon it and her head sunk upon them. Cinders, very +alert, bristling with importance, mounted guard on the sofa itself. + +For Chris was asleep, curled up in her bridesmaid finery, a study in +white and blue, with a single splash of vivid red-gold where the sunlight +touched her hair. + +Cinders growled below his breath as Mordaunt approached. He also wagged +his tail, though without effusion. The visitor was welcome so far as he +was concerned, but he must make no disturbance. A canny little beast was +Cinders. + +And so, noiselessly, Mordaunt drew near, and bent above the child upon +the floor. He saw that she had been crying. Even in repose her face +looked wan, and there was a soaked morsel of lace that had evidently been +quite inadequate for the occasion crumpled up in one hand. + +What was the trouble? he wondered, and wished with all his heart that +Cinders could impart it. He had no doubt that Cinders knew. + +It seemed almost cruel to awake her, but neither could he bring himself +to leave her as she was. He looked to Cinders for inspiration. And +Cinders, with a flash of intelligence that proved him more than beast, if +less than human, lowered his queer little muzzle and licked his +mistress's face. + +That roused her. She stretched out her arms with a vague, sleepy murmur, +smiled, opened her eyes. + +"Oh, Trevor!" she said. "You!" + +He stooped over her. "Chris, is anything the matter?" + +She looked at him. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I forget." + +"Poor child!" he said. "It's a shame to make you remember. But I'm afraid +it is inevitable. Won't you lie on the sofa? You will find it more +comfortable." + +"No," said Chris. "I like the floor the best. You can sit on the sofa, if +Cinders doesn't mind. Has everyone gone, downstairs? Hasn't it been a +dreadful day?" She leaned her head against his knee with a sigh of +weariness. "I do think getting married is a dreadful business," she said. + +His hand was on her hair, the beautiful, burnished hair that Mademoiselle +Gautier had deemed one of her most dangerous possessions. He did not try +to see her face, and perhaps for that very reason Chris leaned against +him with complete confidence. + +"So you don't want to be married?" he said, after a moment. + +"No, I don't!" she said, with vehemence. "I think marriage is +dreadful--dreadful, when you come to look at it close." She moved her +head under his hand; for an instant her face was raised. "Trevor, you +don't mind my saying it, do you?" + +"I want you to say exactly what is in your mind," he made grave reply. + +"I knew you would." She nestled down again, and pulled his hand +over her shoulder, holding it against her cheek. "I know I'm very +unorthodox," she said. "Perhaps I'm wicked as well. I can't help it. +I think marriage--except for good people like Hilda--is a mistake. +It's so terribly cold-blooded and--and irrevocable." + +She spoke the last words almost in a whisper. She was holding his hand +very tightly. + +He sat very still, and she wondered if he were shocked by her views, but +she could not bring herself to ascertain. She went on quickly, with a +touch of recklessness-- + +"It's only the good people like Hilda who can be quite sure they will +never change their minds. In fact, I'm beginning to think that it's only +the good people who never do. Trevor, what should you do if--if you were +married to me, and then you--changed your mind?" + +"I can't imagine the impossible, Chris," he said. + +She moved restlessly. "Would it be quite impossible?" + +"Quite." + +"Even if you found out that I was--quite worthless?" + +"That also is impossible," he said gravely. + +She was silent for a space, then, "And what if I--changed mine?" she +said, her voice very low. + +"Have you changed your mind?" he asked. + +She shrank at the question, quietly though it was uttered. + +His hand closed very steadily upon hers. "Don't be afraid to tell me," he +said. "I want the truth, you know, whatever it is." + +"I know," she said, and suddenly she began to sob drearily, hopelessly, +with her head against his knee. + +He bent lower over her; he lifted her till he held her in his arms, +pressed close against his heart. + +"Yes, hold me!" she whispered, through her tears. "Hold me tight, Trevor! +Don't let me go! I don't feel so--so frightened when you are holding me." + +"Tell me what has frightened you," he said. + +"I can't," she whispered back. "I'm just--foolish, that's all. And, +Trevor, I can't--I can't--be married as Hilda was to-day. I can't face +it--all the people and the grandeur and the flowers. You won't make me, +Trevor?" + +"My darling, no!" he said. + +"It frightened me so," she said forlornly. "It seemed like being caught +in a trap. One felt as if the guests and the flowers were meant to hide +it all, but they didn't--they made it worse. I don't think Hilda felt +like that, but then Hilda is so good, she wouldn't. Oh, Trevor dear, I +wish--I wish we could go to Kellerton and live there without being +married at all." + +The words came muffled from his shoulder; she was clinging to him almost +convulsively. + +"But we can't, Chris," he said, his quiet voice coming through her +agitation with a patience so immense that it seemed to dwarf even her +distress. "At least, dear, you can go and live there if you wish, but I +can't. Perhaps I am not indispensable." + +"No, no!" she said quickly, as though the suggestion hurt her. "I want +you." + +"Then I am afraid you will have to marry me," he said. "We won't have a +big wedding. It shall be as private as you like. I suppose you will want +your brothers to be there." + +"Why can't we run away together and get married all by ourselves?" +suggested Chris. She raised her head and regarded him with sudden +animation. "Wouldn't it be fun?" she said. "You could come for me in the +motor, and we could fly off to some out-of-the-way village and be married +before anyone knew anything about it. There would be no one to gloat over +us and make silly jokes, no horrid show at all. Trevor," her face flashed +into gaiety once more, "I'll go with you to-morrow!" + +He smiled at her eagerness. "If I were to agree to that, you would run +away in the night." + +"Run away from you!" said Chris. She wound her arm swiftly about his +neck. "As if I should!" she said reproachfully. + +He looked at her, baffled in spite of his determination to understand. +"You wouldn't want to do that, then?" he said. + +She nestled to him with a gesture most winning. "Never, never, unless--" + +"Unless--?" he repeated. + +"Unless--for any reason--you were angry with me," she murmured, with her +face hidden again. + +He folded his arms more closely about her. "My little Chris, never be +afraid of that," he said. + +"Oh, but you might be," she protested. + +"Never, Chris." He spoke gravely, with absolute conviction. + +She turned her lips quickly to his. "Then let's run away together, shall +we?" + +He kissed her with great tenderness before he answered. "No, dear, no. It +can't be done. What would your aunt say to it?" + +"Surely if I don't mind that, you needn't!" she said. + +But he shook his head. "I won't let you be pestered with preparations. We +will keep it a secret from everyone outside. But I think we must let your +Aunt Philippa into it. I think you owe her that." + +"P'raps," admitted Chris, without enthusiasm. "But she is sure to want a +big show, Trevor." + +"Leave that to me," he said. "I promise you shall not have that. We will +get it done early, and we will be at Kellerton for luncheon." + +Her eyes shone. "How lovely! And the boys, too--and Bertie?" + +He surveyed the eager face for a few seconds in silence. Then, "Chris," +he said, "would it mean a very great sacrifice to you if I asked for the +first fortnight with you alone?" + +He was watching her closely, watching for the faintest suggestion of +disappointment or hesitancy in the clear eyes, but he detected neither. +Chris beamed upon him tranquilly. + +"Why, I should love it! There's no end of things I want to show you. +And we can make it all snug before Bertie and the boys come. But, of +course"--she became suddenly serious--"I must have Cinders with me." + +"Oh, we won't exclude Cinders," he said. + +She laughed--the gay, sweet laugh he loved to hear. "That's settled, +then. And you'll make Aunt Philippa promise not to tell, for of course +that would spoil everything. Oh, and Trevor, you won't discuss Bertrand +with her? Promise!" + +He looked at her keenly for a moment, met only the coaxing confidence of +her eyes, and decided to ask no question. + +"My dear," he said, "as far as Bertrand is concerned, your Aunt Philippa +and I have nothing to discuss." + +"That's all right," said Chris, with relief. "Trevor, you've done me a +lot of good. You are quite the most comforting man I know. I'm not +frightened any more, and I'll never be such a little idiot again as long +as I live." + +She rose with the words, stood a moment with her hand on his shoulder, +then stooped and shyly kissed his forehead. + +"You always understand," she said. "And I love you for it. There!" + +"I am glad, dear," he said gently. + +But he did not look particularly elated notwithstanding. There had been +moments in their recent conversation when, so far from understanding her, +he had felt utterly and completely at a loss. He had not the heart to +tell her so, for he knew that she was quite incapable of explaining +herself; but the fact remained. And he wondered with a vague misgiving if +he had yet succeeded--if, indeed, he ever would wholly succeed--in +finding his way along the many intricate windings that led to her inmost +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MARRIED + + +It was certainly the quietest wedding of the season. People said that +this was due to the bridegroom's well-known dislike of publicity; but, +whatever the reason, the secret was well kept, and when Chris came out of +the church on her husband's arm there was only Bertrand, standing +uncovered by the carriage-door, to give her greeting. + +She was smiling as she came, but it was rather a piteous smile. She had +faced the ordeal with a desperate courage, but she had not found it easy. +Only Trevor's steadfast strength had held her up. She had been conscious +of his will acting upon hers throughout. With the utmost calmness he had +quelled her agitation, had stilled the wild flutter of her nerves, had +compelled her to a measure of composure. And now that it was over she +felt that he was still in a fashion holding her back, controlling her, +till she should have recovered her normal state of mind and be in a +condition to control herself. + +But the sight of Bertrand diverted her thoughts. Owing to her aunt's +strenuous prohibition, she had not met him since the night of her +birthday dance. She broke from Mordaunt to give him both her hands. + +"Oh, Bertie," she cried, between tears and laughter, "it is good to see +you again!" + +He bent very low, so low that she only saw the top of his black head. +"Permit me to offer my felicitations," he said, in a voice that was +scarcely audible. + +Her hands closed tightly for a second upon his. "You are pleased, +Bertie?" she said, with a quickening of the breath. + +He straightened himself instantly; he looked into her eyes. "But you are +happy, yes?" he questioned. + +"Of course," she told him hurriedly. + +He smiled--the ready smile with which he had learned to mask his soul. +"_Alors_, I am pleased," he said. + +He helped her into the carriage, and turned, still smiling, to the man +behind her. Yet he flinched ever so slightly from the grip of Mordaunt's +hand. It was the merest gesture, scarcely perceptible; in a moment he had +covered it with the quick courtesy of his race. But Mordaunt was aware of +it, and for a single instant he wondered. + +He took his place beside his bride, who tucked her hand inside his arm, +with a little sob of sheer relief. + +"Did I sound very squeaky, Trevor? I tried not to squeak." + +He forgot Bertrand and everyone else but the trembling girl by his side. +He laid a soothing hand on hers. + +"My dear, you did splendidly. It wasn't so very terrifying, was it?" + +"It was appalling," said Chris. "I kept saying to myself, 'Just a little +longer and then that lovely new motor--my motor--and home.' You are going +to give me my first lesson in driving to-day, aren't you? Say yes!" + +He said "Yes," feeling that he was bestowing a reward for good behaviour. + +She squeezed his arm. "And isn't it nice," she whispered, with shining +eyes, "to feel that we are really going to stay there when we get there?" + +He pressed the small, confiding hand. "You are glad, then, Chris?" he +said. + +"Oh, my dear, I should think I am!" she made answer. "I've been counting +the days to the one when I shan't have to peck Aunt Philippa good-night. +She never kisses properly and she won't let me. She says it's childish +and unrestrained." She laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder. +"I've had no one to hug for ever so long--except Cinders," she said. + +"Hasn't Cinders been enough?" he asked, with a hint of surprise. + +She turned her face upwards quickly. "Trevor, you're not to laugh at me! +It isn't fair." + +He smiled a little. "I am not laughing, Chris, I assure you. I have +always thought until this moment that Cinders was more precious to you +than anyone else in the world." + +"Oh, that's because you're a man," said Chris inconsequently. "Men always +have absurd theories about women and the things they care for. As if we +can't love heaps of people at the same time!" + +"You can only love one person best," he pointed out. + +"At a time," supplemented Chris, with a merry smile. "And you choose your +person according to your mood. At least, I do. Oh, Trevor," with a sudden +change of tone, "don't look! There's a hearse!" + +She hid her face against him, and he felt a violent tremor go through +her. He put his arm about her and held her close. + +"My darling, what makes you so superstitious?" + +"I'm not," she murmured shakily. "It isn't superstitious to believe in +death, is it? It's a fact one can't get away from. And it frightens +me--it frightens me! Think of it, Trevor! We only belong to each other +till death us do part. Afterwards--who knows?--we may be in different +worlds." + +He pressed her closer, feeling her cling to him. "There is a greater +thing than death, Chris," he said. + +"I know! I know!" she whispered back. "But--I sometimes think--I'm not +big enough for it. I sometimes wonder--if God gave me a heart at all." + +"My little Chris!" he said. "My darling!" + +She lifted a troubled face. The tears were in her eyes. "Don't you often +think me silly and fickle?" she said. "And you'll find it more and more +the more you see of me. You'll be disappointed in me--you'll be horribly +disappointed--some day." + +He looked down at her with great tenderness. "That day will never come, +dear," he said. "If it did, I should blame myself much more than I blamed +you. Come! You mustn't cry on our wedding-day. You're not really +unhappy?" + +"But I'm afraid," she said. + +He dried her eyes and kissed her. "There is nothing to make you afraid," +he said. "Haven't I sworn to love and cherish you?" + +She nestled to him with a sigh. "It was very nice of you, Trevor," she +said. + +Her spirits revived during her motor-ride to Kellerton. The renovations +there were in full swing. One portion of the house had been already made +habitable for them. Mordaunt had had the entire management of this, but, +as Chris gaily remarked, she would probably change everything round when +she came upon the scene. + +"I feel as if the holidays have just begun," she said to him as they sped +over the dusty road. "And I'm going to work harder than I have ever +worked in my life." + +"If I let you," he said. + +At which remark she made a face, and then, repenting patted his knee. +"You will let me do what I like, I know. You always do." + +"In moderation," said Trevor, with a smile. + +She dismissed the matter as too trivial for discussion. "When are you +going to let me drive?" + +He gave her her first lesson then and there, an experience which +delighted Chris so much that she refused to relinquish the wheel until +they stopped at a country town for luncheon. + +Here her whole attention was occupied in keeping Cinders from chasing the +hotel cat, till Trevor caught and cuffed the miscreant, when her anxiety +turned to indignation on her darling's behalf, and she snatched him away +and kept him sheltered in her arms for the rest of their sojourn. + +"I never punish Cinders," she said. "He's hardly ever naughty, and if he +is he's always sorry afterwards." + +Cinders, whose temper was ruffled, glared at Mordaunt and cursed him in +an undertone throughout the meal, notwithstanding the choice morsels with +which his young mistress sought to propitiate him. + +"I do hope you haven't made him dislike you," she said, when at length +they returned to the car. "He is rather tiresome with people he doesn't +like." + +"If he doesn't behave himself, we will send him to Bertrand to take care +of," Mordaunt rejoined. + +"Indeed we won't!" Chris declared, with warmth. "He has never been away +from me day or night since I first had him." + +At which declaration Mordaunt raised his eyebrows, and said no more. + +He had always known Cinders for a dog of character, but not till that day +had he credited him with the remarkable intuition by which he seemed to +know--and resent--the fact that his mistress was no longer his exclusive +property. It may have been that Chris herself imparted something of the +new state of affairs to him by the very zeal of her guardianship. But +undoubtedly, whatever its source, the knowledge had dawned in Cinders' +brain and with it a fierce jealousy which he had never displayed in +Mordaunt's presence before. + +It was an afternoon of unclouded sunshine. Chris lay back in her seat, +somewhat wearied but quite content, watching the cornfields with their +red wealth of poppies, watching the long, white road before them, and now +and then the unerring hands that held the wheel. + +When at length they neared Kellerton she roused herself and became more +animated. "It's been a lovely ride, Trevor. Let's go for one every day. +Sometimes we might go down to the sea--it's only ten miles. But we will +wait till Bertie comes for that. Ah, there is the lodge! How smart it +looks! And they have actually taken the thistles out of the drive! I +shouldn't have known it." + +She sat up with eager delight in her eyes. The lodge-gates were open; +they ran smoothly in without a pause and on up the long avenue to the old +grey house. + +Chris was enchanted. It was such a home-coming as she had never pictured. + +"It's like a dream," she said. "I can't believe it's true. Everything +looks so different. The garden was an absolute wilderness the last time +we were here." + +It had been turned into a paradise since then, and every second brought +fresh discoveries to her ecstatic gaze. + +"I didn't know it could be so lovely," she declared. "And you've done it +all in a few weeks. Trevor, you're a magician!" + +He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Oh, it isn't all my doing. I have only been +down twice since the day you were here. I put it into capable hands, +that's all. Nothing has been altered, only set to rights." + +"It's lovely!" cried Chris. + +Tired and thirsty though she was, she could hardly wait to have tea on +the terrace before the house before she was off along the dear, familiar +paths to her favourite nook under a great yew-tree whose branches swept +the ground. A rustic seat surrounded the ancient trunk. + +"This is my castle," said Chris. "This is where I hide when I don't want +anyone to find me." + +She stretched back a hand to her husband, and led him into her shadowy +domain. + +"The boys used to call it Hades," she said, in a hushed voice. "And I +used to pretend I was Persephone. I did so wish Pluto would appear some +day with his chariot and his black horses and take me underground. But," +with a sigh, "he never did." + +"Let us hope you have been reserved for a happier fate," Mordaunt said, +with his arm about her. + +She flashed him her quick smile. "You instead of Pluto! But I always +thought he was rather fascinating, and I longed to see the underworld." + +"I think the sunshine suits you best," he said. + +"Oh yes, but just to see--just to know what it's like! I do so love +exploring," insisted Chris. + +He smiled and drew her out of her gloomy retreat. "Sometimes it's better +not to know too much," he said. + +"But one couldn't," she protested. "All knowledge is gain." + +"Of a sort," he said. "But it is not always to be desired on that +account." + +A sudden memory went through Chris. She gave a sharp shudder. "Oh no!" +she said. "One doesn't want to know horrid things! I forgot that." + +He looked at her interrogatively, but she turned her face away. "Let's go +back to the house. I wonder where Cinders is." + +They returned to the house, and again Chris was lost in delight. A great +deal yet remained to be done, but the completed portion was all that +could be desired. They had chosen much of the furniture together, and she +spent most of the evening in arranging it, with her husband's assistance, +to her satisfaction. + +But when at length the hour for dinner arrived he would not suffer her to +do anything further. + +"I believe you have done too much as it is," he said, "and after dinner I +shall have something to show you." + +She yielded readily enough. She certainly was tired. "I feel as if to-day +had lasted for about six weeks," she said. + +But her animation did not wane in spite of this, and she would even have +returned to her labours after they had dined had Mordaunt permitted it. +He was firm upon this point, however, and again without protest she +yielded. + +"You were going to show me something. What was it?" + +"To be sure," he said. "I was going to show you how to write a cheque. +Come over to the writing-table and see how it is done." + +Chris went, looking mystified. "But I shall never write cheques, Trevor," +she said. + +"No? Why not?" + +He drew up a chair for her and knelt down beside her. + +"You are a woman of property now, Chris," he said, and laid a new +cheque-book on the pad in front of her. + +Chris gazed at it, wide-eyed. "But, Trevor, I haven't got any money at +the bank, have I?" + +"Plenty," he said, with a smile--"in fact, a very large sum indeed which +will have to be invested in your name. That we will go into another day, +but for present needs, if you are wanting money--" + +"Yes?" said Chris eagerly. + +He put a pen into her hand and opened the cheque-book. + +She slipped her arm round his neck. "Trevor, I--I don't feel as if you +ought. I--of course I--knew you would make me an allowance, but--but--you +ought not to give me a lot of money all my own." + +"My darling," he said gently, "don't forget that you are my wife, will +you?" + +She smiled a little shyly. "Do you know--I had forgotten--quite!" + +He put his arm about her as she sat. "You must try to remember it, dear, +because it's rather important. I know I might have made you an allowance, +but I prefer that you should be independent. Only, Chris, I am going to +ask a promise of you; and I want you to make it at the very beginning of +our life together. That is why I have spoken on our wedding-night." + +"Yes?" whispered Chris. + +She had begun to tremble a little, and he pressed her to him +reassuringly. "I want you to promise me that you will never run into +debt, that if for any cause you find that you have not enough of your own +you will come to me at once and tell me." + +He spoke with grave kindness, watching her face the while. But Chris's +eyes did not meet his own. She was rolling the pen he had given her up +and down the blotting-pad with much absorption. + +"Is it a promise, Chris?" he asked at length. + +She threw him a nervous glance and nodded. + +He laid his hand upon hers and held it still. "Chris, have you any debts +now?" + +She was silent. + +"My dear," he said, "don't be afraid of me!" + +There was that in his voice that moved her to the depths; she could not +have said why. Impulsively, almost passionately, she went into his arms. + +"I won't!" she said. "I won't! Trevor, I--I've been a little beast! That +money you gave me on my birthday I didn't do--what you meant me to do +with it. I just--spent it. I don't know how. And then--when you asked +about it that night--I didn't dare to tell you, and I haven't dared +since. I just let you think it was all right--when it wasn't. Oh, Trevor, +don't be angry--don't be angry!" + +"I am not angry," he said. + +"Not really? But how you must despise me! It's just the way of the +Wyndhams. We all do it. Trevor, why did you make me tell you?" + +"My dear child," he said, "you must tell me these things. It is your only +possibility of happiness, and mine also. Chris, never keep anything from +me, for Heaven's sake! Don't you know that I trust you?" + +"I don't deserve it!" sobbed Chris, clinging faster. "You don't know how +bad I am!" + +"Hush!" he said, with a restraining hand upon her head. "You have told me +everything now?" + +"Oh no, I haven't!" she whispered. "There are crowds of things I couldn't +even begin to tell you. I have always warned you how it would be. I +always said--" + +Her agitation was increasing, and her words became inaudible. He saw that +her nerves had given way under the long day's strain, and firmly, with +infinite gentleness, he put a stop to further discussion of a subject +that threatened to upset her seriously. + +"Never mind," he said. "You will tell me by and bye, or if you don't I +shall know it is all right. Chris, Chris, you mustn't get hysterical. You +are worn out, dear, and it has upset your sense of proportion. Come, I am +going to send you to bed. We will go into these money matters in the +morning." + +But Chris vehemently negatived this. "I don't want to--to spoil +to-morrow. I--I shouldn't sleep for thinking of it. Oh, Trevor, let's +settle it now. I'm going to be sensible--really. And--and--if you'll +forgive me for all the bad things I've done up to to-day I--I will really +try to tell you everything as it happens from now on. Will you, Trevor?" + +She raised pleading, pathetic eyes, still wet with tears. He could feel +her still quivering with the emotion she was striving to subdue. She was +too near in that moment to resist--perhaps he would not have resisted her +in any case; for he had it not in his heart to think ill of her. + +"My darling," he said, "we will leave it at that. Only--in the +future--trust me as I am trusting you." + +He turned to the table and closed the cheque-book. "These debts are my +affair. I will settle them. Just tell me what they are." + +"Oh, but they are settled!" she told him. "I promised I would, you know." + +"Then"--he looked at her--"someone lent you the money?" + +Something in his tone made her shrink again. She hesitated. + +"Chris!" he said. + +Nervously she answered him. "Jack lent me forty pounds." + +"Jack!" he said. "You weren't afraid to ask him, then?" + +"Oh no!" she said quickly. "I'm not a bit afraid of Jack." + +"Only of me, Chris!" + +She gave herself back to him with a swift, shy movement. "It's the fear +of vexing you," she said. "I don't mind vexing--other people. It's only +you--only you. Trevor, say you understand!" + +He did not answer her instantly, but the close holding of his arms drove +all misgiving from her soul. He rose to his feet, raising her with him, +pressing her to him faster and ever faster till her arms crept round his +neck again, and she lay, a willing prisoner, against his heart. + +And so holding her, at last he answered her tremulous appeal. "My +darling, never be afraid of vexing me! Never be afraid that I shall not +understand!" + +She could not speak in answer. The wonder of his love for her had +stricken her dumb; it had swept upon her like a wave, towering, immense, +resistless, bearing her far beyond her depth. + +She could only mutely lift her quivering lips; and he, moved to +gentleness by her action, took her face between his hands with infinite +tenderness, gazing down into her eyes with that in his own which cast out +the last of her fear. + +"My little Chris!" he said. "My wife!" + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SUMMER WEATHER + + +"I think quite the worst part of being married is having to pay calls," +said Chris. + +"You do not like it, no?" said Bertrand, with quick sympathy. + +"No," she rejoined emphatically. "And I don't see any sense in it either. +No one ever wants afternoon callers." + +"But that depends upon the caller, does it not?" he said. + +"Not in the least," said Chris. "There's a stodginess about afternoon +calling that affects even the nicest people. It's the most tiresome +institution there is." + +"Then why do it?" he suggested, with a smile. + +She shook her head severely. + +"Don't be immoral, Bertie! You're trying to tempt me from my duty." + +"Never!" he declared earnestly. + +"Oh, but you are; and I am not sure that you are not neglecting your own +as well. What brought you out at this hour?" + +He spread out his hands. "Mr. Mordaunt has ordered me to take a rest +to-day." + +Chris looked up at him sharply. "Aren't you well, Bertie?" + +"But it is nothing," he said. "I have told him. It happens to me +often--often--that I do not sleep. I have explained all that. But what +would you? He is obstinate--he will not listen." + +Chris patted a hammock-chair beside her. "Sit down at once. I knew there +was something the matter directly I saw you this morning. But you always +look horribly tired. Do you never sleep properly?" + +He dropped into the chair and stretched up his arms with a sigh. "It is +only in the morning that I am tired," he said. "It is nothing--a weakness +that passes. Or if it passes not--I go." + +"Go!" repeated Chris, startled. + +He turned his head towards her. "That surprises you, yes? But how can I +remain if I cannot work?" + +"Oh, but you haven't been here a fortnight," she said quickly. "I expect +the change of air has upset you. And it has been so hot too." + +He acquiesced languidly, as if not greatly interested. His dark eyes +watched her gravely. Evidently his thoughts had wandered from himself. + +Chris was not slow to perceive this. "What are you thinking of?" she +demanded. + +"I am thinking of you," he answered promptly. + +"What of me?" The blue eyes met his quite openly. Chris was always frank +to her pals. + +"I was thinking," he said, in his soft, friendly voice, "how you were +happy, and how I was glad." + +She threw him a quick smile. "How nice of you, Bertie! And how +beautifully French! But, you know, I shan't be happy if you talk of +leaving us. It will spoil everything, and I shall be absolutely +miserable." + +"You were not miserable before I joined you, no?" he said, smiling back +at her. + +"Of course I wasn't. But that was quite different. I knew all the while +that you were coming. I should have been if anything had happened to +prevent you." + +"Really?" he said thoughtfully. + +"Yes, really!" Chris was emphatic. "And I am sure there is nothing much +the matter with you, Bertie; now, is there?" + +He scarcely responded. "It will pass," he said. "And so you have arranged +to make visits this afternoon?" + +"Yes. Isn't it a bother?" Chris's brow wrinkled. "Noel wanted me to go +and fish with him, but Trevor says I must go and see Mrs. Pouncefort, so +I suppose I must. I hoped he would come too, but he has got to stay and +interview the architect about that subsidence in the north wing. I wish +you would come instead." + +He shook his head. "No--no! That is not possible. Where does this lady +live?" + +"Sandacre way, towards the sea. Oh, do you know Rupert is coming over on +Sunday with some brother officers? I had a card from him this morning. He +is very fond of Mrs. Pouncefort--they all are. I don't know quite why. I +believe they spend half their time there. Mr. Pouncefort is a dear little +man--no one could help liking him. He has a yacht, and they always have a +crowd of people staying there at this time of the year." + +"_Alors_," he said, "it will amuse you to go there, no?" + +Chris smiled. "Oh, not particularly. I would much rather stay with you +and Trevor. Besides, I've such a lot to do." + +She did not look overwhelmed with work as she leaned back in her +hammock-chair, but she evidently intended to be busy, for a basket and +scissors stood beside her. + +Bertrand was much too courteous to suggest that she was not making the +most of her time. Or perhaps he did not want to be left in solitary +contemplation of that fleeting August morning. He lay silent for a +little, and presently requested permission to smoke a cigarette. + +"Of course," she said at once. "Why don't you go and lie in the hammock? +I will come and rock you to sleep." + +He thanked her, smiling, but declined. + +She watched him light his cigarette with eyes grown thoughtful. Suddenly: +"Bertie," she said, "are you very unhappy nowadays?" + +He made a jerky movement, and dropped the match, still burning. Hastily +he bent to extinguish it, but Chris was before him, her hand upon his +arm, restraining him. + +"No, sit still! It's all right. Tell me, please, Bertie! I want to know." + +He shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, still smiling, but in a fashion +that she was at a loss to interpret. + +"But what a question, _petite_! How can I answer it?" + +"I should have thought---between friends---" she began. + +"_Ah, oui_! We are friends, are we not?" A curious expression of relief +took the place of his smile, and she felt as if for some reason he had +been afraid. "And you ask me if I am unhappy," he said. "_Mais +vraiment_--I know not what to say!" + +"Then you are!" she said, quick pain in her voice. + +He looked down at the little friendly hand that lay upon his arm, but he +did not offer to touch it. His eyes remained downcast as he spoke. "I am +more happy than I ever expected to be, Christine." + +"You like your work?" she questioned. "Trevor is kind to you?" + +"He is--much too kind," the Frenchman answered, with feeling. + +"But still you are unhappy?" she said. + +"It is--my own fault," he told her, still not looking at her. + +She rubbed his sleeve sympathetically. "Bertie, don't you think--if you +tried very hard--you might manage to forget all that old trouble?" + +There was a note of pleading in her voice, and he made a quick gesture as +he heard it, as if in some way it pierced him. + +She went on speaking, as he made no attempt to do so. "You know, Bertie, +you really are quite young still, and there are such a lot of nice things +left. It's such a pity to keep on grieving. Don't you think so? It seems +rather a waste of time. And I do--so--want you to be happy." + +At the quiver in her voice he glanced up sharply, but he instantly +lowered his eyes again. And still he said no word. He only drew his brows +together and bit his cigarette to a pulp. + +Her hand came softly down his arm and lay upon his. + +"Bertie," she said, in a whisper, "you're not--vexed?" + +His hand clenched at her touch, but on the instant he looked up at her +with a smile. "Vexed!" he said. "With you! A thousand times--no!" + +She smiled back, reassured. "Then will you--please--try to forget what +you have lost? I know it won't be easy, but will you try? It's the only +possible way to be happy. And if you are not happy--I shan't be either." + +He took her hand at last with perfect steadiness into his own. "You know +not what I have lost," he said. "But--if I try to forget--that will +content you?" + +She nodded. "Yes, Bertie." + +He looked at her intently for a moment, then, "_Eh Bien_!" he said +briskly. "I will try." + +"_Bon garçon_!" she said, with a merry smile. "That is settled, then. +Why, there is Trevor! Has he finished that article of his already? He +looked quite absorbed when I passed his window half an hour ago." She +waved to him as he approached. "Why don't you wear a hat, you mad +Englishman? Don't you know the sun is broiling?" + +He smiled and ignored the warning. Bertrand sprang from his chair as he +reached them, but Mordaunt instantly pressed him down again. + +"No, no, man! Sit still! I have only come out for a moment." + +"But I am going," Bertrand protested. "I cannot sit and do nothing. There +are those accounts that you have given me to do. They are not yet +finished. Also--" + +"Also, they are not going to be done to-day," Mordaunt said, shaking him +gently by the shoulder. "Chris, I am going to hand this fellow over to +you for the next few days. You can do what you like with him so long as +you don't let him do any work. That I absolutely forbid. You understand +me, Bertrand?" + +"But I cannot--I cannot," Bertrand said restlessly. "You are already much +too good to me. You overwhelm me with kindness, and I--I make no return +at all. No, listen to me--" + +"I'm not going to listen to you," Mordaunt said. "You are talking +nonsense, my friend, arrant drivel--nothing less. Chris will tell you the +same." + +"Of course," said Chris. "Besides, there are crowds of things you can do +for me. No, he shan't be overworked, I promise you, Trevor. But I'm going +to try a new cure. Just for this afternoon he is going to lie in the +hammock and smoke cigarettes. But after to-day"--she nodded gaily at the +perturbed Frenchman--"after to-day, Bertie, _nous verrons_!" + +He smiled in spite of himself, but he continued to look dissatisfied till +Mordaunt carelessly turned the conversation. + +"Where's that young beggar Noel?" + +"Fishing in the Home Meadow," said Chris. + +"Quite sure?" + +"I think so," she said. "Why?" + +"Because he has taken one of my guns, and I believe he is potting +rabbits." + +Chris sat up with consternation in her eyes. "Trevor! I believe he is +too! I heard someone shooting half an hour ago. And he has got Cinders +with him! I know he will go and shoot him by mistake!" + +"Or himself," said Mordaunt grimly. + +"Oh, he won't do that," said Chris with confidence. "Nothing ever happens +to Noel." + +"Something will happen to him before long if he doesn't behave himself," +observed Mordaunt. "My patience began to wear thin last night when I +caught him asleep with a smouldering pipe on his pillow." + +"Oh, but he always does what he likes in the holidays," pleaded Chris. + +"Does he?" Mordaunt's voice was uncompromising. + +She slipped a quick hand into his. "Trevor, you wouldn't spoil his fun?" + +He looked down at her, faintly smiling. "My dear Chris, it depends upon +the fun. I'm not going to have the place burnt down for his amusement." + +"Oh no," she said. "But you won't be strict with him, will you? He will +only do things on the sly if you are." + +Mordaunt frowned abruptly. "If I catch him doing anything underhand--" + +She broke in sharply in evident distress. "But we all do, Trevor! I--I've +done it myself before now--often with Mademoiselle Gautier, and then with +Aunt Philippa. One has to, you know. At least--at least--" His grey eyes +suddenly made her feel cold, and she stopped as impulsively as she had +begun. + +There was a moment's silence, then quite gently he drew his hand away. "I +think I will go and see what mischief the boy is up to." + +She jumped up. "I'll come too." + +He paused, and for a single instant his eyes met Bertrand's. At once the +Frenchman spoke. + +"But, Christine, have you not forgotten your roses? It is growing late, +is it not? And you will be out this afternoon. Permit me to assist you +with them." + +He picked up the basket as he spoke. Chris stopped irresolute. Her +husband was already moving away over the grass. + +"Come!" said Bertrand persuasively. + +Chris turned with a smile and took the basket. "All right, Bertie, let's +go. It is getting late, as you say, and I must get the vases filled." + +They went away together to the rose-garden, and here, after brief +hesitation, Chris voiced her fears. + +"I'm so afraid lest Trevor should ever get really angry with any of the +boys. They won't stand it, you know. And he--I sometimes think he is just +a little hard, don't you?" + +Mordaunt's secretary pondered this proposition with drawn brows. "No," he +said finally, "he is not hard, but he is very honourable." + +Chris laughed aloud. "That sounds just like a French exercise, Bertie. I +don't see what being honourable has to do with it, except that the people +who preen themselves on being honourable are just the ones who can't make +allowances for those who are not. You would think, wouldn't you, that +being good would make people extra kind and forgiving? But it doesn't, +you know. Look at Aunt Philippa!" + +Bertrand's grimace was expressive. "And Aunt Philippa is good, yes?" + +"Frightfully good," said Chris. "I don't suppose she ever told a story in +her life." + +His quick eyes sought hers. "And that--that is to be good?" + +Chris paused an instant, her attention caught by the question. "Why, I +suppose so," she said slowly. "Don't you call that goodness?" + +He spread out his hands. "Me, I think it is the smallest kind of +goodness. One does not lie, one does not steal; but what of that? One +does not roll oneself in the mud. And that is a virtue, that?" + +Chris became keenly interested. "Do go on, Bertie! I had no idea you +thought such a lot. I don't myself--often." + +He laughed, his sudden pleasant laugh that he uttered now so rarely. "But +I am no philosopher," he said. "Simply I think--a little--sometimes. And +to me--to be honourable is no more a virtue than to wash the hands. One +cannot do otherwise and respect oneself." + +"No?" said Chris, a little dubiously. "Then, Bertie, if honour is not +goodness, what is?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Goodness? Bah! There is no goodness without +love." + +"Oh!" Chris's eyes opened wide. "You think--that?" + +He nodded with vehemence. "_Si, chérie_! I think--that; more, I know it. +I know that 'Love is the fulfilling of the law.' One does not need to go +further than that. It is enough, no?" His eyes looked straight into hers; +they were shining with the light that only friendship can kindle. + +She smiled back at him. "I should almost think it is, Bertie. It is +enough for you anyhow, since you believe it." + +"Ah, yes," he said very earnestly. "I believe it, Christine. I should not +be here now--if I did not believe it." + +She puckered her brows a little. "I don't quite know what you mean," she +said. + +He turned from her questioning eyes, pulling his hat down over his own. +"No," he said. "But--you know enough, _ma petite_, you know enough." + +"I sometimes think I don't know anything," she said restlessly. + +He stretched out a hand to her, as one who guides a child. "Ah, +Christine," he said sadly, "but it is better to know the little than the +much." + +"You all say that," said Chris. "I think it is rather a horrid world for +some things, don't you?" + +"But the world is that which we make it," said Bertrand. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ONE OF THE FAMILY + + +"But, my dear chap, what bally rot! Anyone would think I'd never smoked a +pipe or handled a gun before, when I've done both for years." + +Noel Wyndham's smile was the most engaging part of him; it had the knack +of disarming the most wrathful. It had served him many a time in the hour +of retribution, and he never scrupled to make use of it. It was quite his +most valuable asset. + +"Don't be waxy, old chap," he pleaded, slipping an affectionate hand +inside his brother-in-law's unresponsive arm. "I've been having such a +high old time. And I'm not a bloomin' kid. I know what I'm about." + +"All very well," Mordaunt said. "I don't object to anything in reason. +But you are too fond of taking French leave with other people's property. +That gun, for instance--" + +"Oh, that's all right," the boy assured him eagerly. "It kicks most +infernally, but I soon got the trick of it after a bruise or two. I say, +you haven't seen anything of that little devil Cinders? He's gone down a +rabbit-hole. Won't Chris be in a stew?" + +Mordaunt possessed himself of the gun without further argument. "Then +you'd better set to work and find him. Chris is going out this +afternoon." + +"In the motor?" Noel's eyes shone. "I'll go, too. You needn't bother +about Cinders. He always turns up sooner or later. Don't tell Chris, or +she'll spend the rest of the day hunting for him." + +"She will probably want to know," observed Mordaunt. + +"I shall say I never had him," said Noel unconcernedly. "He won't come to +any harm, but you can turn that secretary fellow of yours on to the job +if you're feeling anxious. I say, Trevor, we shan't want the chauffeur. +Tell them, will you?" + +"You certainly won't go without him," Mordaunt rejoined. "And look here, +Noel, you're not to tell lies. Understand?" + +Noel looked up with a flicker of temper in his Irish eyes, "Oh, rats!" he +said. + +"Understand?" Mordaunt repeated. "It's the one thing I won't put up with, +so make up your mind to that." + +He spoke quite temperately, but with unswerving decision. His eyes looked +hard into Noel's, and the boy's spark of resentment went out like an +extinguished match. + +"I say, I like you!" he said with enthusiasm. "You're a regular sport!" + +"Thank you," Mordaunt returned gravely. + +"And what about Chris?" Noel proceeded mischievously. "Isn't she allowed +to tell lies, either?" + +Mordaunt stiffened. "Chris knows better." + +"Oh, does she?" Noel yelled derision. "My dear chap, you'll kill me! Why, +she--she's about the worst of us. I never knew anyone lie quite like +Chris when occasion arises." + +He broke off. Mordaunt had shaken his arm free with an abruptness not far +removed from violence. + +"That's enough," he said sternly. "I don't advise you to say any more +upon that subject." + +"But I assure you it's the truth," Noel protested. "She can look you +straight in the face and swear that black is white till you actually +believe it. I assure you she can." + +He spoke with such naïve admiration of the achievement that Trevor +Mordaunt, on the verge of anger, found himself checked suddenly by an +irrepressible desire to laugh. + +Noel saw and seized upon his advantage. "But I daresay she wouldn't to +you. She gets everything she wants without. I must say you're jolly +decent to all of us. I'm sorry I took your gun--didn't know it was one +you particularly valued. I'd get one of my own only I'm so beastly hard +up. I suppose you couldn't lend me a fiver now, could you?" + +He tucked his hand back into Mordaunt's arm persuasively, and smiled his +winning smile. "I'll pay you back--with interest--when I come of age. +That'll be in five years. I wouldn't ask you if I couldn't. But I daresay +Chris can let me have it if you would rather not." + +"No!" Mordaunt said very decidedly. "There must be no borrowing from +Chris. I will give you five pounds if you are wanting it, but not to buy +a gun with, and only on the understanding that for the future you come to +me--and never to Chris--if you chance to be in difficulties." + +"Oh yes, I'll promise that," said Noel readily. "But I don't want you to +make me a present, old chap. I shall pay up some day. You shall have an +I O U." + +"Many thanks! I don't want one." Mordaunt began to smile. "Just keep +straight and tell the truth," he said. "That's all the return I want." + +"Really?" Noel's smile became a grin. "That's awfully decent of you. As a +matter of fact, I don't believe even Chris could manage to deceive you. +You're so beastly shrewd. But we'll call it a bargain if you like. You +won't catch me trying to jockey you after this." + +"Very well," Mordaunt said. "Then, on the strength of that, I want to +know if you have ever had any money from Chris before." + +"Why, of course I have!" Noel seemed surprised by the question. He spoke +with the utmost frankness. + +"How much?" + +Mordaunt's smile had departed. He did not look altogether pleased, but +Noel was quite unimpressed. + +"Oh, goodness knows!" he said lightly. "She has my I O U's." + +"Which she must find very satisfying," remarked Mordaunt. "Now look here, +boy! There must be no more of this. You will have to keep within your +allowance in future." + +"My dear chap, it's all jolly fine--I can't!" protested Noel. "Why, I +only get about twopence-halfpenny a term. It isn't enough to pay a cat's +expenses, besides being always up to the eyes in debt." + +Mordaunt heaved a sigh of resignation. "I suppose I had better look into +your affairs. Write down as clear a statement of your debts as you can, +and let me have it." + +"I say--really?" Noel looked up eagerly. "You're not in earnest?" + +"Yes, I am. And afterwards--you are to keep within your means, or if you +don't I must know the reason why." + +Noel grinned with cheery impudence. "You'll swish me, I suppose, to +improve my morals? Wish I had as many sovereigns as I've had swishings. +They would keep me in clover for a year." + +Mordaunt laughed rather grimly. "I don't waste my time licking hardened +sinners like you. I've something better to do." + +Noel echoed his laugh with keen enjoyment. "You're rather a beast, but I +like you. Have you paid Rupert's debts, too? He is always on the verge of +bankruptcy. Shouldn't wonder if Max is as well, but he keeps his affairs +so dark. I expect he is in the hands of the money-lenders--I know Rupert +was years ago." + +"I don't think he is now," Mordaunt said. + +"Don't you? What's the betting on that? He could no more keep out of +their clutches than he could fly over the moon. I say"--he suddenly burst +into a peal of boyish laughter--"it's the funniest thing on earth to see +you shouldering the family burdens. How you will wish you hadn't! And +that French beggar you've adopted, too, who is safe to rob you sooner or +later! Why don't you start a home for waifs and strays at once? I'll help +you run it. I'll do the accounts." + +Mordaunt laughed, in spite of himself. "Very kind of you! But I think +there are enough of you for the present." + +"All highly satisfactory," grinned Noel. "What a pity you didn't marry +Aunt Philippa, I say! She would have been much more useful to you than +Chris. Never thought of that, I suppose?" + +"Never!" said Mordaunt. + +"Poor old Aunt Phil!" Noel chuckled afresh. "She would have been in her +element if you had only given her the chance. She hates us all like +poison. I suppose you know why?" + +"Haven't an idea," Mordaunt spoke repressively, "unless your general +behaviour has something to do with it." + +"Oh, very likely it has," Noel conceded. "But the chief reason was that +our father diddled her out of a lot of money. He was hard up, and she was +rolling. So he--borrowed a little." He glanced at Mordaunt with a queer +grimace. "Most unfortunately he didn't live to pay it back. I shouldn't +tell anyone this, but I don't mind telling you, as you are one of the +family." + +"And who told you?" Mordaunt inquired. + +"Me? I overheard it." + +"How?" + +The question came sternly, but Noel was sublimely unabashed. + +"The usual way. How does one generally overhear things? I hid behind a +shutter once when Aunt Phil and Murdoch, our man of business, were having +a talk. She pitched it pretty strong, I can tell you. I should have felt +quite sorry for the old girl if I hadn't known that her husband had left +her more than she could possibly know what to do with. As it was, I was +rather glad than otherwise, for she's disgustingly mean over trifles. And +people who can shell out and won't should be made to." + +Mordaunt received this axiom in silence. As a matter of fact he was +somewhat staggered by the information thus airily imparted. But he did +not question the truth of it. He only wondered that he had never +considered such a possibility before. + +Another shout of merriment from the boy at his side made him look round. +"Well? What's the joke?" + +"You!" yelled the youngster, between his paroxysms. "I'm awfully sorry. +You're such a good sort. But I can't help it. I say, Trevor--aren't you +glad just--that you're one of the family?" + +Mordaunt aimed a blow at him that he evaded with ease. "If you don't +behave yourself I shall use the privilege in a fashion you won't care +for," he said, "even if it is a waste of time." + +At which threat Noel confidingly hooked his arm once more through that of +his brother-in-law and begged him in a voice hoarse with laughter to stop +rotting. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISASTER + + +Chris and Noel set off in the motor that afternoon in excellent spirits +to pay the projected call upon Mrs. Pouncefort. + +They found the lady of the house at home, and spent an animated hour with +her; for although she never appeared to welcome her visitors or to exert +herself in any degree to entertain them, most of them seemed to find it +difficult to get away. + +When they departed at length they carried with them an invitation to a +garden _fête_ which had been arranged for the following week. It included +the whole party, to Chris's great satisfaction. + +"It will be the very thing for Bertie," she said. "It is just what he +needs." + +Noel, who entertained a sweeping prejudice against all foreigners, was +inclined to dispute this, and a lively argument ensued in consequence, +which lasted during the greater part of the run home. + +Chris was at the wheel, being a fairly experienced driver by that time, +though Mordaunt was very insistent that she should always have someone +responsible by her side. On this occasion, however, Holmes, who was +acting as chauffeur, had been imperiously relegated to the back seat by +Noel, who intended to have his turn before the end of the ride. He had +driven twice before under his brother-in-law's supervision, and he +considered himself an expert. + +As soon as they were through the lodge-gates, therefore, he began to +clamour to change places with Chris. The worried Holmes protested in +vain. Chris, though firmly refusing to sit behind, was quite willing to +give her place at the wheel to her brother; and the change was speedily +effected, remonstrance notwithstanding. + +"We can't come to any harm on our own drive," was the careless +consolation she threw to the perturbed man behind her, who then and there +solemnly swore to his inner soul that whatever the outcome of the venture +he would never again trust himself or the car to the tender mercies of +the Wyndham family. + +Finding himself thus ignored, he stood up and leaned over the boy's +shoulder to give directions in the face of any sudden emergency that +might arise, though Noel was obviously in no mood to pay any attention to +them. As he remarked later, when recounting the adventure, he knew in his +bones that there was going to be an accident; but the nature of it he +could hardly be expected to foresee. + +In fact, for a brief space all went well. The motor buzzed merrily along +the drive, and it almost seemed as if the escapade would end without +mishap, when, as they rounded the bend that led to the house, Noel +unexpectedly put on speed. They shot forward at a great pace under the +arching trees, and forthwith suddenly came disaster. Swift as a lightning +flash it came--too swift for realization, almost too swift for sight. It +was only a tiny, racing figure that darted for the fraction of a second +in front of the car, and then--with a squeal half-choked--was lost in the +rush of the wheels. It was only Cinders chasing a rabbit which he was +destined never to catch. + +Chris's shriek of agony rang as far as the house. In another moment she +would have thrown herself headlong from the car, but Holmes was too quick +for her. Not in vain had Holmes been through a three-years' war; not in +vain did he hold himself responsible for the young wife of the master +whom that war had taught him to love. Almost before she had sprung from +her seat he had caught her, forcing her down again, holding her by grim +strength from her mad purpose. She struggled with him fiercely, +hysterically; but Holmes's grip never relaxed. She bore the marks of it +upon her arms for weeks after. + +And while he held her, baffling her utmost efforts to free herself, he +was giving directions to Noel, whose nerve had departed completely with +the shock of the catastrophe, giving them over and over again--steadily, +insistently, and very distinctly, till they took effect at last, though +only just in time. + +They were dangerously near the house before, in response to the boy's +frantic efforts, the car slackened and finally, under Holmes's reiterated +directions, ran to a standstill. + +Chris, in a perfect frenzy by that time, wrenched herself free and sprang +down. Her husband, who had rushed from the house at her cry, was close to +her as she reached the ground, but she sped away without so much as +seeing him. + +Back up the drive she tore, back to the shadowing trees, back to the +piteous little blot in the shadow that was the only thing her world +contained in that hour of anguish. + +When they reached her she was sunk on the ground beside her favourite, +crying his name, while he, whimpering, strove to drag his mangled body +into her lap. She tried to lift him, but he yelped so terribly at her +touch that she was forced to let him lie. + +"Oh, Cinders, Cinders!" she cried, in an agony. "My little darling, what +shall I do?" + +Someone stooped over her; a quiet hand lay upon her shoulder. "Chris," it +was her husband's voice, very grave and tender, "come away, dear. You +can't do anything. The poor little chap is past our help." + +She lifted a dazed face, staring uncomprehendingly. + +"Come away," he repeated. + +But when he tried to raise her she resisted him. "And leave him like +this? No, never, never! Oh, Trevor, look--look! He is dying! Can't we do +something--anything? Oh, he never cried like that before!" + +"My dear, there is nothing that you can do." Very gently he made answer. +"He can't possibly live. There is only one thing to be done, and that is +to put him out of his pain as quickly as possible. But I can't do it +with you here. So come away, dear! It's the kindest--in fact, it's the +only--thing you can do." + +"Are you going to--kill him?" gasped Chris in horror. + +He nodded, with compressed lips. "There is no alternative. We can't let +him suffer like this." + +"Oh no, no, no!" Chris cried. + +She would have thrown her arms about her darling, but he stopped her. He +caught her wrists and held her back. + +"Chris, you must not! When animals are hurt they will bite without +knowing what they are doing. Chris, do you hear me? You must go." + +But she would not. "Do you think I would leave him now--when he wants me +most? And as if he would bite me--Cinders--Cinders--who never even +growled at me!" + +She bent over him again, beside herself with grief. Cinders, in the midst +of his pain, tried gently to wag his tail. His brown eyes, faithful, +appealing, full of love, gazed up at her. He had never seen his mistress +in such trouble before, and the instinct to comfort her urged him even +then, in the midst of his own. Again he made piteous efforts to crawl +into her arms, but again he failed, and fell back, whimpering. + +Chris covered her face. It was more than she could bear, and yet she +could not--could not--leave him. + +For a space that might have been minutes or only seconds she was left +alone, tortured but impotent. A dreadful darkness had fallen upon her, a +numbness in which Cinders, suffering and slowly dying, was the only +reality. + +Then again she became conscious of another presence. A quick hand touched +her. A soft voice spoke. + +"Ah, the poor Cinders! And he lives yet! _Chérie_, we will be +kind to him, yes? We cannot make him live, but we will let him die +quick--quick, so that he suffer no more. That is kind, that is merciful, +_n'est-ce-pas_?" + +She turned instinctively in answer to that voice. She held up her hands +to the speaker like a child. "Oh, Bertie," she cried piteously, "is there +nothing to be done? Nothing?" + +"Only that, _chérie_," he made answer, very gently. + +"Then"--she was sobbing terribly, but she suffered his hands to raise +her--"don't let them--send me away, Bertie. I can't go--while he lives. +It--it would hurt him more, if I went." + +"No, no, _chérie_," he answered her reassuringly. "You will be brave, +yes? See, I will hold your hand. We will go just across the road, but +not beyond his sight. He will see you. He will know that you are near. +There--there, _chérie_! Shut your eyes! It will be finished soon." + +He put his arm around her, for she stumbled blindly. They went across the +road as he had said, and halted under the trees on the farther side. + +There followed a pause--an interval that was terrible--during which only +the low crying of an animal in pain was audible. + +Bertrand stood like a rock, still holding her. "But you will not look, +_chérie_," he whispered to her softly. "It is deliverance--this death. +Soon--soon he will not cry any more." + +She pressed her face against his shoulder, wrapped in the close security +of his arms, and waited, drawing each breath with difficulty, saying no +word. + +She did not know what was happening, and she dared not look. She could +only wait in anguish for the whimpering that tore her heart to cease. + +"Now, _chérie_!" whispered Bertrand at last, and she stiffened in his +arms, preparing for she knew not what. + +His hold tightened. For that instant he pressed her hard against his +heart, so that she heard its quick beating. + +The next there came a loud report--a sound that violently rent her +stretched nerves, shattering them as glass is shattered by a stone. She +drooped without sound like a broken flower, and the young Frenchman +gathered her up, just as he had done on the occasion of their first +meeting at Valpré, and bore her away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +GOOD-BYE TO CHILDHOOD + + +Out of the dreadful darkness Chris groped her halting way, saw light, +and, shuddering, closed her eyes again. But at once a voice spoke to her, +soothingly, tenderly, calling her back. + +Reluctantly she responded, reluctantly she returned to full +consciousness, and knew that she was lying fully dressed upon a couch in +the drawing-room. But at sight of her husband's face bending above her +she shuddered again--a painful, convulsive shudder that shook her from +head to foot. + +He laid a quiet hand on her head, but she shrank away. "Please, +Trevor"--she faltered--"please, I want to be alone." + +"Yes, dear," he made gentle reply. "Just drink this first, and I will +leave you." + +But she withdrew herself almost violently; she buried her face deep in +the cushion. "I can't! I can't! Please don't ask me to. I am quite all +right. I only want--to be alone." + +She was shaking all over as one with an ague, and her words were hardly +articulate. He waited a little for her trembling to pass, but it only +increased till her whole body seemed to twitch uncontrollably. At last +with the utmost quietness he stooped and deliberately raised her. + +"Chris, my dear little girl, you mustn't let yourself go like this. I +want you to take this stuff to steady you. Afterwards you will have a +sleep and be better." + +She did not absolutely resist him, but he felt her nervous contraction at +his touch. The face she turned to his was ghastly in its pallor. + +"I--I don't think I can, Trevor," she said, speaking very rapidly. "My +throat won't swallow. It would only choke me. Please--please, if you +don't mind--go away. I shall be all right if--if you will only go." + +"I can't leave you like this," he said. + +"Yes, yes, you can," she answered feverishly. "Oh, what does it matter? +Trevor, I must be alone. I must! I must! Please go!" + +Her agitation was growing with every second, and he saw that he must +yield. He laid her back again without a word, smoothed the cushions, +touched her hair, and softly departed. + +She listened tensely for the closing of the door, relaxing instantly the +moment she heard it. A great darkness descended upon her soul. She lay +motionless, face downwards, too stunned for thought. + +A long time passed. It was growing late. Over the quiet garden the summer +dusk was falling. The swallows were swooping through it in their +multitudes--the swallows that Cinders loved to chase. To-night no cheery, +impudent bark pursued their flight. To-night all was still. + +Did they miss him? she began to wonder dully. Did they ask each other +where he had gone? And then, half-consciously, she began to listen for +him, the scamper of the light feet, the gay jingle of his collar, till in +a moment she almost fancied that she heard him scratching at the door. + +She was half off the sofa before realization stabbed her, and she sank +back numbly into her desolation. + +Again a long time passed--an interval not to be measured by hours or +minutes. The swallows ceased to circle and went to roost. It began to be +dark. And still Chris lay alone, a huddled, motionless figure, prostrate, +crushed, inanimate. Her hands and feet were like ice, but she did not +know it. She was past caring for such trifles. All her abounding vitality +seemed to be arrested, as if her very blood had ceased to circulate. + +It was growing late when the door opened at last. A figure stood a moment +upon the threshold, then entered, moving with a quick, light tread that +might have been the tread of a woman. In the darkness it reached her, +bent over her. + +"_Ah, pauvre petite_!" said a soft voice, a voice so full of compassion +that it thrilled straight to her silent heart and made it beat again. +"All alone with your grief! You permit me to intrude myself, no?" + +She turned and felt up towards him with an icy hand. "Bertie!" she said. +"You--might have come before!" + +He knelt swiftly down beside her, pressing the little trembling fingers +against his neck to give them warmth. "But you are so cold!" he said. +"You must not lie here any more." + +"Why not?" she said dully. "I don't think it matters, does it?" + +"But of course!" he made quick rejoinder. "When you suffer we suffer +also. Also"--he paused an instant--"Mr. Mordaunt awaits you, _petite_. +Will you not go to him?" + +She shivered. "Need I, Bertie? I don't want to." + +It was the cry of a child--a child in distress--plunged for the first +time in the bitter waters of grief, turning instinctively to the friend +of childhood for comfort. "I don't want anyone but you," she said +piteously. "You understand. You loved him--and Trevor didn't." + +"Oh, but, Christine--" Bertrand began. + +"No, he didn't!" she maintained, with sudden vehemence. "I always knew he +didn't. He put up with him for my sake; but he never loved him. He never +noticed his pretty little ways. Once--once"--she began to sob--"it was on +our wedding-day--he slapped him--for chasing a cat! My sweet wee +Cinders!" + +She broke down utterly upon the words, and there followed such a storm of +tears that Bertrand was forced to abandon all attempts to reason with +her, and could only kneel and whisper soft endearments in his own +language, soothing her, comforting her, as though she were indeed the +child she seemed. + +But it was long before she even heard him, not until the paroxysm had +spent itself and she lay passive and utterly exhausted, with her hands +fast clasped in his. + +"You are good to me," she murmured then, and in a moment, "Why, Bertie, +you're crying too!" + +"Ah, pardon me!" he whispered, under his breath. "But to see you in pain, +my little one, my bird of Paradise--" + +"No," she said, a strange note of conviction in her voice, "I shall never +be that any more now that Cinders is gone. I shan't be young like that +any more. I--I shall grow up now, Bertie. I daresay Trevor will like me +the better for it. But you won't, dear. You will be sorry, I know. We've +been playfellows always, haven't we, even though you grew up and I +didn't? Well"--there came a sharp catch in her voice--"we shall both be +grown-up now." + +And then, all in a moment, as if some panic urged her, she started up, +drawing his hands close. "But we'll be friends still, won't we, Bertie? +You won't talk of going away any more, will you? Promise me! Promise me, +Bertie!" + +He hesitated. "It might be better that I should go," he said slowly. "It +is possible that--" + +She interrupted him almost hysterically. "Oh no, no, no! I want you here. +I want you, Bertie, Don't you understand?" + +"But yes," he said. "Only, _petite_--" + +"You will promise, then?" she broke in, as though she had not heard the +last words. "Bertie, I'm so miserable. You--you--wouldn't add to it all!" + +"No, _chérie_, by Heaven, no!" he said, with vehemence. + +"Then you'll stay, Bertie? You will stay?" Very earnestly she besought +him. Her tears were dropping on his hands. "Say you will!" + +For a moment longer he hesitated; he tried to resist her, he tried to +take a sane and temperate view. But those tears were too much for him. +They were the one torture he could not endure. With a sharp gesture he +flung his hesitation from him. Yet even then he left himself a way of +escape lest the temptation should be more than he could bear. + +"I will stay," he made grave reply, "as long as it would make you happy +to have me with you--that is"--he checked himself--"if Mr. Mordaunt +desire it also." + +"But of course he does," said Chris. "He likes you. And I--I can't do +without you, Bertie--not now." + +He heard the desolate note in her voice, and he did not contradict her. +Had he not sworn that while she needed him he would be at hand? + +"_Eh bien_," he said soothingly. "I stay." + +That comforted her somewhat, and presently, at his persuasion, she sat up +and dried her eyes. It was too dark for them to see each other, but she +held his hand very tightly; and there was comfort also in that. + +"Now you will come away from here," he said. "Mr. Mordaunt is very +troubled about you. He would not come to you himself because he thought +that you did not desire him. But that was not true, no?" + +Again that hard shudder went through Chris. She was silent for a little, +them "Oh, Bertie," she whispered, "I wish--I wish--it hadn't been he +who--who--" she broke off--"you know what I mean. You--saw!" + +Yes, he knew. It was what Mordaunt himself had suspected, and loyally he +entered the breach on his friend's behalf. + +"_Chérie_--pardon me--that is not a good wish--not worthy of you. That +which he did was most merciful, most brave, and he did it himself because +he would not trust another. I wish it had been my hand--not his. Then you +would have understood." + +"I almost wish it had been!" whispered Chris; and then, her words +scarcely audible, "But--but do you think--he--knew?" + +"_Le pauvre Cinders_?" Very softly Bertrand spoke the dog's name. "No, +Christine. He did not know. His head was turned the other way. His eyes +regarded only you. And Mr. Mordaunt was so quiet, so steady. He aim his +revolver quite straight, and his hand tremble--no, not once. Oh, believe +me, _petite_, it was better to end it so." + +"Yes, I know, only--only"--convulsively her hands closed upon +his--"Bertie--Bertie--dogs do go to heaven, don't they?" + +"I believe it, Christine." + +"You do really--not just because I want you to?" + +He drew her gently to her feet. "_Chérie_, I believe it, because I know +that all love is eternal, and death is only an incident in eternity. +Where there is love there is no death. Nothing that loves can die. It is +the Divine Spark that nothing can ever quench." + +He spoke with absolute conviction, almost with exultation; and the words +went straight to Chris's heart and stayed there. + +"You do comfort me," she said. + +"I only tell you the truth," he made answer, "as I see it. We do not yet +know the power of Love. We only know that it is the greatest of all. It +is _le bon Dieu_ in the world. And we meet Him everywhere--even in the +heart of a dog." + +"I shall remember that," she said. + +Her hand still clung to his as they groped their way across the room. At +the door for a moment she stayed him. + +"I shall never forget your goodness to me, Bertie, never--never!" she +said, very earnestly. + +"Ah, bah!" he answered quickly. "But we are--pals!" + +And with that he opened the door, almost as if impatient, and made her +pass before him into the hall. + +The lamplight dazzled Chris, and she stood for a moment uncertain. Then, +as her eyes became accustomed to the change, she discovered her husband, +standing a few yards away, looking at her. + +He did not speak, merely held out his hand to her; and she went to him +with a vagrant feeling of reluctance. + +He put his arm about her, looking gravely into her wan face; but she +turned from his scrutiny and leaned her head against his shoulder with a +piteous little murmur of protest. + +"Do you mind if I go to bed, Trevor?" she said, after a moment. "I--I'm +very tired, and I don't want any dinner." + +"You must have something, dear," he made answer, "but have it in bed by +all means. I will bring it up to you in half an hour." + +She made a slight movement which might have meant dissent, but which +remained unexplained. For a little she stood passive, leaning against him +as though she lacked the energy to go, but at length she made a move. +Glancing round, she saw that Bertrand had departed. + +"Where is Noel?" she asked. + +"In his room." + +She looked up sharply, detecting a hint of grimness in his voice. +"Trevor"--she halted a little--"are you--vexed with anybody?" + +His face softened at her tone. "Never mind now, dear," he said. "You are +worn out. Get to bed." + +She put her hand to her head with a weary gesture. "But why--why is Noel +in his room?" + +"Because I sent him there." + +"You!" She stared at him, fully roused from her lethargy. "Trevor! Why?" + +"I will tell you tomorrow," he said, frowning slightly. "I can't have you +upset any more tonight." + +"But, Trevor--" + +"Chris, dear, go to bed," he said firmly. "If I don't find you there in +half an hour, I shall put you there myself." + +"Oh no!" she broke in. "Please don't come up. I shall get on better +alone. And I have to say goodnight to Noel first." + +"I am sorry, dear," he said, "but you can't. Noel is in disgrace, and I +would rather you did not see him to-night." + +"In disgrace! Trevor--why?" + +He put his arm deliberately round her again, and led her to the stairs. + +"Tell me why," she said. + +"I will tell you tomorrow," he repeated. + +But she would not be satisfied. She turned upon the first stair, +confronting him. "Tell me now, please, Trevor." + +He raised his brows at her insistence. + +"Yes," she said in answer, "but I want to know. You don't--you +can't--blame him for--for--" she faltered and bit her lip +desperately--"you know what," she ended under her breath. + +"I do blame him," he answered quietly. "I forbade him strictly to attempt +to drive without someone of experience beside him." + +"Oh!" A sharp note of misgiving sounded in Chris's voice. "You said that +to me too!" she said. + +He looked at her very gravely. "I did." + +"Then--then"--she stretched a hand to the bannisters--"you are angry with +me too?" + +"No, I am not angry with you," he said, and she was conscious of a subtle +softening in his tone. "I am never angry with you, Chris," he said +emphatically. + +"And yet you are angry with Noel," she said. + +"That is different." + +"How--different?" + +He took her hand into his. "Do you know he nearly killed you?" + +She started a little. "Me?" + +He nodded grimly. "Yes. If it had been only himself, it wouldn't have +mattered. But you--you!" + +His arms went out to her suddenly; he caught her to him, held her +passionately close for a moment, then lifted her and began to carry her +upstairs. + +She lay against his breast in quivering silence. It seemed that Cinders +did not matter either so long as she was safe; and though she knew beyond +all question that he was not angry with her, she was none the less +afraid. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LOOKER-ON + + +"I think that it should be remembered that he is young," said Bertrand, +"also that he has been punished enough severely already." + +He leaned back in an easy-chair with a cigarette which he had suffered to +go out between his fingers, and watched Mordaunt pacing up and down. + +Mordaunt made no pretence of smoking. He walked to and fro with his hands +behind him, his brows drawn in thought, his mouth very grim. + +"My good fellow, he will have forgotten all that by to-morrow," he said, +with a faint, hard smile. "I know these Wyndhams." + +"I also," said Bertrand quietly. + +Mordaunt glanced at him. "Well?" + +The Frenchman hesitated momentarily. "I think," he said, "that you will +find them more easy to lead than to drive." + +Mordaunt's frown deepened. "They are all so hopelessly lawless, so +utterly unprincipled. As for lying, this boy at least thinks nothing of +it." + +"Ah, that is detestable, that!" Bertrand said. "But he would not lie to +you unless you made him afraid, _hein_?" + +"He lies whenever it suits his purpose," Mordaunt said. "He would have +lied about the speed of the motor if I would have listened to him. But it +is his disobedience I am dealing with now. If I don't give that boy the +sound thrashing he deserves for defying my orders, he will never obey me +again." + +Bertrand's eyes, very bright and vigilant, opened a little. "But +Christine!" he said. + +"Yes, I know." Mordaunt came to a sudden halt. "Chris also must learn +that when I say a thing I mean it," he said. + +"Without doubt," the Frenchman conceded gravely. "But that is not all +that you want. And surely it would be better to be a little lenient to +her brother than to alienate her confidence from yourself." + +He spoke impressively, so impressively that Mordaunt turned and looked at +him with close attention. Several seconds passed before, very quietly, he +spoke. + +"What makes you say this to me, Bertrand?" + +"Because you are my friend," Bertrand answered. + +"And you think my wife is afraid of me?" + +Bertrand's eyes met his with the utmost directness. "I think that she +might very easily become afraid." + +Mordaunt looked at him for several seconds longer, then deliberately +pulled up a chair, and sat facing him. + +"In Heaven's name, Bertrand, why?" he said. + +Bertrand made a quick gesture, almost as if he would have checked the +question, but when it was uttered he sat in silence. + +"You can't tell me?" Mordaunt said at last. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "If you desire it, I will tell you what I +think." + +"Tell me, then." + +A faint flush rose in Bertrand's face. He contemplated the end of his +cigarette as if he were studying something of interest. "I think, +monsieur," he said at last, "that if you asked more of her, you would +obtain more. She is afraid of you because she does not know you. You +regard her as a child. You are never on a level with her. You are not +enough her friend. Therefore you do not understand her. Therefore she +does not know you. Therefore she is--afraid." + +His eyes darted up to Mordaunt's grave face for an instant, and returned +to the cigarette. + +There followed a silence of some duration. At last very quietly Mordaunt +rose, went to the mantelpiece, helped himself to a cigarette, and began +to search for matches. + +Bertrand sprang up to proffer one of his own. They stood close together +while the flame kindled between them. After a moment their eyes met +through a cloud of smoke. Bertrand's held a tinge of anxiety. + +"I have displeased you, no?" he asked abruptly. + +Mordaunt leaned a friendly hand upon his shoulder. "On the contrary, I am +grateful to you. I believe there is something in what you say. I never +gave you credit for so much perception." + +Bertrand's face cleared. He began to smile--the smile of the rider who +has just cleared a difficult obstacle. + +"You have a proverb in England," he said, "concerning those who watch the +game, that they see more than those who play. Shall we say that it is +thus with me? You and Christine are my very good friends, and I know you +both better than you know each other." + +"I believe you do," Mordaunt said, smiling faintly himself. "Well, I +suppose I must let the youngster off his thrashing for her sake. I wonder +if he has gone to bed." He glanced at the clock. "It's time you went, +anyhow. You are looking fagged to death. Go and sleep as long as you +can." + +He gripped the Frenchman's hand, looking at him with a kindly scrutiny +which Bertrand refused to meet. He never encouraged any reference to his +health. + +"I am all right," he said with emphasis, but he returned the hand-grip +with a warmth that left no doubt as to the cordiality of his feelings. He +was ever too polished a gentleman to be discourteous. + +Left alone, Mordaunt sat down at his writing-table to clear off some work +which he had taken out of his secretary's hands earlier in the day. It +was midnight before he finished, and even then he sat on for a long time +deep in thought. + +It was probably true, what Bertrand had said. Tenderly as he loved his +young wife, he had not succeeded in winning her confidence. There was no +friendship between them in the most intimate sense of the word, and so +she feared him. His love was to her a consuming flame from which she +shrank. Bitterly he admitted the fact, since there was no ignoring it. +She was frightened at the very existence of his passion, restrain it how +he would. She was his and yet not his. She eluded him, even when he held +her in his arms. + +His thoughts travelled backwards, recalling incident after incident, all +pointing to the same thing. And yet he knew that he had been patient with +her. He had held himself in check perpetually. And here again Bertrand's +words recurred to him. If he had asked more, might he not have obtained +more? Was it possible that he had failed to win her because he had not +let her feel the compulsion of his love? Was it perchance his very +restraint that frightened her? Had he indeed asked too little? + +Again his thoughts went back and dwelt upon their wedding-night. He had +kindled some answering flame within her then. She had not attempted to +withhold herself. The memory of her shy surrender swept over him, setting +the blood leaping in his veins anew. She had been his that night, and his +throughout the brief fortnight that followed. They had been very intent +upon the renovations, and no cloud had even shadowed their horizon. How +was it she had slipped away from him since? Was it the advent of that +tempestuous youngster that had caused the change? Undoubtedly Chris was +less a Wyndham when alone with him. Or was there some other cause, +arising possibly from some hidden fluctuation of mood, some restlessness +of the spirit, of which he had had no warning? Her aunt's declaration +that they were all lacking in stability recurred to him. Was it so with +her? Was she fickle, was she changeable, his little Chris? + +Her own words came back to him, uttered with tears upon her wedding-day: +"Don't you often think me silly and fickle? You'll find it more and more, +the more you see of me. You'll be horribly disappointed in me some day." + +He rose abruptly. No, that day had not dawned yet. If she had slipped +away from him, he, and he alone, was to blame. He had not won the +friendship which alone brings trust, and he knew now that he could not +hold her without it. As Bertrand had said, he had not been enough her +friend. Even now she was probably crying herself ill in solitude over the +loss of Cinders. + +The thought quickened him to action. He turned out the light, and went +swiftly from the room. + +Upstairs, outside her door, he stopped to listen, but he heard no sound. +She had cried herself to sleep, then, and he had not been there to +comfort her. His heart smote him. Had she deemed him unsympathetic? She +had seemed to wish to be alone, and for that reason he had left her as +soon as he had satisfied himself that she had all she needed in a +physical sense. She had not wanted him. She had shrunk from his touch. +She had probably seen him go with relief. But--he asked himself the +question with sudden misgiving--would it have been better if he had +ignored her evident desire and stayed? He had feared exhaustion for her +and had avoided any word or action that might have led to a renewal of +her grief. Had he seemed to think too lightly of her sorrow? Had she been +repelled by his very forbearance? + +He passed on softly to his own room. The door that led from this into +hers was ajar. He pushed it a little wider, and looked in. + +It was lighted only by the moon, which threw a flood of radiance through +the wide-flung windows. Every object in the room stood out in strong +relief. Standing motionless in the doorway, Trevor Mordaunt sought and +found his wife. + +She was lying with her face to the moonlight, her hair streaming loose, +the bedclothes pushed off her shoulders. + +And there beside her, curled up in a big easy-chair, his black head +lodged against her pillow, one hand clasped close in hers, lay Noel. Both +had been crying, both were asleep. + +For many seconds Mordaunt stood upon the threshold, gravely watching +them, but he made no movement to draw nearer. At last noiselessly he +withdrew, and closed the door. + +The grimness had all gone from his face. He even smiled a little as he +resigned himself to spending the night in his own room. The idea of +disturbing the brother and sister never crossed his mind. It was enough +for him that Chris had found comfort. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A BARGAIN + + +"Luck!" said Rupert gloomily. "There never is any where I am concerned." + +This in response to a question from his brother-in-law as to the general +progress of his affairs. He sat in Mordaunt's writing-room, with one of +Mordaunt's cigars between his lips, and a decidedly sullen expression on +his good-looking face. + +"I'm sick of everything," he declared. "I'm going to chuck the Army. It's +never done anything for me. There's no chance of active service, and I +loathe garrison work." + +"The only question being, what else are you fit for?" said Mordaunt. + +Rupert threw him a quick look. "I'll be your bailiff, if you like," he +said. "I could do that." + +Mordaunt raised his brows at the suggestion. "That is an idea that never +occurred to me," he remarked. + +"Why not? You want a bailiff, don't you?" + +"A reliable one," said Mordaunt. + +Rupert jumped in his chair as if he had been stung. "What the devil do +you mean?" + +"I mean"--Mordaunt regarded him steadily--"that I shouldn't care to trust +my affairs to a man who can't look after his own." + +Rupert's eyes flashed. "I am not to be trusted, then?" + +Mordaunt continued to regard him, quite unmoved. + +"You had better ask yourself that question, my dear fellow," he said. +"You are better qualified to answer it than I am." + +Rupert relaxed again, dropping back listlessly. "I suppose you are right. +I certainly don't make a great success of things. I believe I should get +on better with you than with anyone else. But if you feel like that about +it, there is no more to be said." + +"You really want to be taken seriously, do you?" Mordaunt said. + +"Of course I do!" Rupert turned towards him again with the lightning +change of mood characteristic of him. "You must forgive me for being a +bit touchy, old chap. It's this infernal thundery weather. May I have +another drink?" He helped himself without waiting for permission. "Of +course I want to be taken seriously. It's a billet that would suit me +down to the ground. I know the place, every inch of it, and, as you know, +I'm fond of it. I would look after your interests as though they were my +own." + +Mordaunt smiled. "But do you look after your own?" + +Rupert clinked some ice into his tumbler, and thoughtfully watched it +float. + +"You've been so jolly decent to me," he said at length, "that I haven't +the face to bother you with my affairs again." + +"I suppose that means you are in difficulties," his brother-in-law +remarked. + +He nodded without looking up. "I'm never out of 'em. It's not my fault. +It's my beastly bad luck." + +"Of course," said Mordaunt dryly. + +Rupert bobbed the ice against his glass and spilt some whisky-and-water +in so doing. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I was born in Queer Street, and I've lived +there all my life. You fellows who are simply rolling in wealth haven't +the smallest notion what it means." + +"What is the good of saying that?" Mordaunt sounded impatient for the +first time. "You know as well as I do that if you had twenty thousand a +year you would spend twice the amount." + +Rupert glanced at him sideways. "Hullo!" he said softly. "Beginning to +size us up, are you?" + +"I'm beginning to think"--Mordaunt spoke with force--"that your sense of +honour is as much a minus quantity as your wealth." + +"Honour!" Rupert looked up in genuine astonishment. + +"Yes, honour," Mordaunt repeated grimly. "Do you call it honourable to +run up debts that you have no possibility of paying?" + +Rupert turned crimson. "Look here! I'm not going to stay here to be +insulted," he said hotly. "I haven't asked for your help, and I'm damned +if I'd take it if you offered it--after that." + +He was on his feet with the words, but Mordaunt remained seated. "You can +do as you like," he said quietly. "If you choose to take offence, that is +your affair. I helped you before because I knew you were hard up and I +was sorry for you. But there is no occasion for you to be hard up now. +And I am not sorry for you this time. I think you deserve to be kicked." + +"You be damned!" said Rupert fiercely. + +Mordaunt's brows went up. He looked full into the boy's heated face, and +though he said no word Rupert turned slowly white under the look. In the +dead silence that followed he stood as tense as though he expected a +blow. Yet Mordaunt made no movement, spoke no word. + +It was Rupert who broke the silence finally, broke it hurriedly, +stammeringly, as though it had become unbearable. "All right, old chap. I +didn't mean quite that. But you--you shouldn't badger me. I'm not used to +it." + +"Sit down," Mordaunt said. + +He obeyed awkwardly, and to cover his discomfiture took up his glass to +drink. But before it reached his lips Mordaunt spoke again. + +"Rupert!" + +He started a little, and again the liquid splashed over. + +"Put that down!" Mordaunt said. + +Again dumbly he obeyed. + +Mordaunt leaned forward and drew the glass out of his reach. "It has +never been my intention to badger you," he said. "But I reserve to myself +the privilege of telling you the truth. That is the fourth drink I have +seen you mix this afternoon." + +"I'm perfectly sober," Rupert asserted quickly. + +"Yes, I know. But you are not as cool as you might be." Very keenly +Mordaunt's eyes surveyed him, but they were not without a hint of +kindness notwithstanding. "I mustn't call you a young fool, I suppose," +he said, "but really you are not overwise. Now, what about these affairs +of yours? Shall we go into them now or after tea?" + +Rupert shrugged his shoulders sullenly. "I don't know that I care to go +into them at all." + +The kindliness went out of Mordaunt's eyes and a certain steeliness took +its place. "As you like," he said. "Only let it be clearly understood +that I will have no borrowing from Chris. I have forbidden her to lend +money to any one of you. If you want it, you must come direct to me." + +Rupert shifted his position, and looked out of the window. Down in the +garden Chris was dispensing tea to three of his brother-subalterns, +assisted by Noel. Bertrand was seated by her side, alert and watchful, +ready at a moment's notice to come to her aid. It was his customary +attitude, and it had been so more than ever since the death of Cinders. +There was a protecting brotherliness about him that Chris found +infinitely comforting: He understood her so perfectly. + +She had not wanted to emerge from her seclusion to entertain her +brother's friends on that sunny Sunday afternoon, but he had gently +persuaded her. A change had come over Chris during the past four days. +The violence of her grief had spent itself on the night that she and Noel +had mingled their tears over the loss of their favourite, and she had not +alluded to it since. She accepted her husband's sympathy with gratitude, +but she shrank so visibly from the smallest allusion to her trouble that +he found no opportunity for expressing it. He would not intrude it upon +her. It was not his way, and she made him aware that for this also she +was grateful. + +But it was plainly from Bertrand that she drew her chief comfort. His +very presence seemed to soothe her. He was just the friend she needed to +help her through her dark hour. + +That she fretted secretly Mordaunt could not doubt, but she was so +zealous to hide all traces of it from him that he never detected them. He +only missed her gay wilfulness and the sunshine of her smile. She +responded to his tenderness even more readily than usual, but she did not +open her heart to him. There seemed to be a barrier intervening that she +could not bring herself to pass. + +In his own mind he set this fact down to a certain feminine +unreasonableness, imagining that she could not forget his share in the +tragedy that had affected her so deeply. He trusted to time to soften the +painful impression, and meanwhile, with his habitual patience, he set +himself to wait till the physical strain had passed and the very +sweetness of her nature should bring her back to him. He knew that all +Bertrand's influence would be exercised in this direction, and his faith +in his young secretary's discretion was considerable. Their brief +conversation on the night of the disaster had rooted it more firmly than +ever. Bertrand was so essentially a man of honour that he trusted him in +all things as he trusted himself. Their code was the same, and their +friendship of the kind that endures for life. If there were one thing on +earth before all others upon which Trevor Mordaunt would have staked his +all, it was this Frenchman's loyalty to himself. He was as staunch as +Chris's brothers were unstable. He believed him to be utterly incapable +of so much as an underhand impulse. And he was content that Chris should +have for friend this man who was so close a friend of his own, upon whose +nobility of character he had come to rely as a power for good that could +not fail to raise her ideals and deepen in her that sense of honour which +was still scarcely more than an undeveloped instinct in her soul. + +His eyes followed Rupert's to the open window. The sound of chaffing +voices rose clearly on the summer air, mingled with the chink of +tea-cups. + +"Shall we go?" Mordaunt said. + +Rupert looked round with a laugh. "Did you see that ass Murphy stand on +his head to drink his tea? It's his pet accomplishment. Yes, all right; +let's go." + +He got up, glanced at the whisky-and-soda on the table, then impulsively +linked his arm in that of his brother-in-law, all his sullenness gone +like a storm-cloud. + +"You're quite right, old fellow. I have had as much of that stuff as is +good for me. Forgive me for being such a bear. I didn't mean it." + +Mordaunt paused. He had never dealt with anyone quite so bewilderingly +changeable before. "I wish I knew how to treat you," he said, after a +moment. + +"Oh, pitch into me! It's the only way." Rupert's smile flashed suddenly +upon him. "I've been an ungrateful brute, and I'm ashamed of myself. +Seriously, Trevor, I'm sorry. I sometimes think to myself it's downright +disgusting the way we all sponge on you. It's deuced good of you to put +up with it." + +Mordaunt still regarded him with close attention. But there was no doubt +in his mind as to the boy's sincerity: he only wondered how long this +contrite mood would last. + +"I am always willing to help you to the best of my ability," he said. +"But I think you might play the game. I can't keep pouring water into a +sieve." + +"It's not to be expected," Rupert agreed. "And I hate asking you for more +money. I'm an absolute cur to do it. But--" he broke off, and pulled his +hand free--"for goodness' sake, man, if you can--just this once--" + +Mordaunt crossed the room to his writing-table, unlocked a drawer, took +out a cheque-book. + +"How much?" + +"I say, you are a good chap!" Rupert protested. "Can you make it a +hundred?" + +"Will that settle everything?" Mordaunt asked. + +"Oh, well--practically everything." + +Mordaunt wrote the cheque in silence. He handed it over his shoulder +finally to the boy behind him. + +"It's for a hundred and fifty. I hope that will see you through. And look +here, Rupert, do for Heaven's sake pull up and keep within bounds. I am +quite willing to help you to a reasonable extent, but you must do your +part, too. You are living at an insane rate. Do you keep an account of +your expenditure?" + +"Of course I don't!" Rupert seemed astonished at the question. "What on +earth would be the good of that? It wouldn't reduce my expenses." + +Mordaunt laid his cheque-book back in the drawer. "And you think you +would make a good bailiff?" he said. + +"Oh, that's different. Of course, you must have accounts for the +management of an estate. You would have no cause to complain of me there. +Are you going to think it over, I say?" + +Mordaunt turned in his chair. "You really wish me to do so?" + +"Rather!" Rupert spoke with enthusiasm. "If you knew how deadly sick I am +of the life I live now!" he added, with strong disgust. "It's beastly +hard work, too, in a sense, and nothing to show for it." + +"I should work you hard myself," Mordaunt observed. + +"I shouldn't mind that. I'd work like a horse here. It's what I've always +wanted to do." + +"And kick like a horse, too, if I ventured to find fault," said Mordaunt, +smiling a little. + +"No, I shouldn't. I'd take it like a lamb. Come, man, I've apologized." + +There was a note of reproach in Rupert's voice. Mordaunt left his +writing-table and faced him squarely. + +"I'll make a bargain with you," he said. "If you can manage to keep +straight between now and Christmas, and you are of the same mind then, I +will take you on. Is it done?" + +Rupert thrust out a hand with a beaming countenance. "Done, old fellow! +And a thousand thanks! I'll do my part somehow if it kills me. Hullo, I +say! There's Chris calling! Hadn't we better go?" + +He was plainly desirous to end the interview, and Mordaunt did not seek +to prolong it. "Come along, then!" he said. And they went out together +arm-in-arm to join the group upon the lawn. + +Two hours later, just before Rupert and his friends started upon their +return journey, Bertrand happened to enter Mordaunt's writing-room, and +was surprised to find the eldest Wyndham standing by the table with a +glass of whisky-and-soda to his lips. + +The surprise was mutual, and on Rupert's side so violent that he dropped +the glass, which shivered upon the floor. He uttered a fierce exclamation +as he recognized the intruder. + +Bertrand was profuse in his apologies. "But I had no idea that there was +anyone here! A thousand pardons, Mr. Wyndham! It was unfortunate--but +very unfortunate. I am come only for Mr. Mordaunt's keys, which he left +here by accident. I will ring for Holmes. He will remove this _débris_. +And you will have another drink, yes?" + +"I can't wait," Rupert said, almost inarticulately. + +He remained standing at the table trying to compose himself, but he was +white to the lips. + +Bertrand regarded him with quick concern. "Ah, but how I have alarmed +you!" he said. "My shoes are of canvas, and they make no sound. Will you, +then, sit down for a moment, while I pour out another glass of whisky?" + +He drew forward a chair with much solicitude, and took up a fresh glass. +But Rupert swung away, turning his back upon him. + +Prom the front of the house came the hoot of the waiting motor. Plainly +his comrades were waxing impatient. + +"But you will drink before you go?" urged the courteous Frenchman. "I am +desolated to have deprived you--" + +Rupert turned his face for an instant over his shoulder. It was no longer +white, but crimson and convulsed with anger. His hands were clenched. + +"Oh, go to the devil!" he cried violently, and with the words stamped +furiously from the room. + +Bertrand was left staring after him, petrified with amazement--too +astounded to be angry. + +At the end of a lengthy pause he turned and pocketed Mordaunt's keys, and +rang the bell for Holmes to clear up the mess on the floor. + +"_Mais ces anglais_!" he murmured to himself, with a whimsical shrug of +the shoulders. "_Comme ils sont drôles_!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ENEMY + + +Mrs. Pouncefort's garden-party was an annual affair of some importance to +which everyone, from the County downwards, was bidden, and from which +very few absented themselves. + +The Pouncefort entertainments were generally upon a lavish scale, were +also largely attended by the military element of Sandacre society, and +were invariably described in the local journals as "very smart affairs." + +Had Chris been in her normal spirits she would have hailed the occasion +with delight. She knew a good many people in the neighbourhood, and she +was sure to meet all her friends there. It was, moreover, for this that +she had successfully angled for an invitation for Bertrand. But when the +day came she would have given a good deal for a legitimate excuse for +remaining at home. The weather was hot, and she felt weary and +disinclined for gaiety. + +She said no word of her reluctance, however, for Bertrand had accepted +his inclusion in the invitation with docility, and since she had decided +that a little social change would be good for him, she would not draw +back herself lest he should be tempted to do likewise. + +Bertrand was her chief thought just then. She knew that her husband was +dissatisfied with regard to his health, and undoubtedly he looked far +from well, though he himself invariably declared that it was only the +heat, and persistently refused to see a doctor. Not even Chris could +shake this resolution of his, and he was so distressed when Mordaunt +would not let him work that to keep him quiet Mordaunt was obliged to let +him do a little. He made it as little as he could, however, and Bertrand +spent a good deal of his time in the garden with Chris in consequence. + +It certainly cheered her to have him, and for that reason he was the less +inclined to rebel against the edict that sent him there. They had begun +to read French together, Chris having developed a sudden keenness for the +language which he was delighted to encourage. That the original idea had +been devised for his pleasure he shrewdly suspected, but the carrying out +of it contributed undoubtedly to her own. It occupied her thoughts and +energies, and that was what she needed just then. + +He knew perfectly well that she was as disinclined for social amusements +as he was himself, but the same motive that prompted her urged him also. +Each went with reluctance, but without protest. + +Noel, who had achieved the most saintlike behaviour during the past week, +went also. He made an ingratiating attempt at the last moment to persuade +Mordaunt to let him drive. But Mordaunt was as adamant upon that point. +He had issued a decree that Noel should drive no more during the summer +holidays, and he meant to keep to it. + +The prohibition did not extend to Chris, but she had shuddered at the +bare mention of the motor ever since the accident, and he knew that she +had not the faintest desire left to enlarge her experience in driving. + +She was the last to leave the house on that sultry August afternoon, and +Mordaunt saw at once that the ordeal of entering the car was a severe +one. She even turned so white at the sight of it that he feared a +breakdown. + +"Come and sit with me," he said kindly. + +She looked at him with a quick shake of the head. "No, I'll sit behind +with Bertie if I may. Noel can sit with you." + +Noel, who was already in the back seat, climbed over like a monkey, and +Bertrand handed her in. + +She sat very rigid until they were out of the avenue, and Bertrand was +silent also. But as they turned into the road he began to talk, gently +and persuasively, upon indifferent things, resolutely passing by her +silence until with a wan little smile she managed to respond. + +Long before they reached Sandacre she had quite recovered her +self-command, and the flash of the sea upon the horizon brought from her +a quick exclamation of pleasure. + +"Ah, yes, it is beautiful, that!" he agreed with enthusiasm. "And there +is the sand there, yes?" + +She nodded. "I used to think we'd go and picnic there. But I don't think +I want to now." + +"Next year," suggested Mordaunt, without turning his head. + +"Perhaps," she said, a little dubiously. + +Bertrand said nothing. He was looking out to the wide horizon with a far +look in his eyes, almost as though he saw beyond that sparkling sky-line, +even beyond the sea itself. + +The strains of the military band from Sandacre reached them as they +turned in at the wide-flung gates. Chris's eyes kindled almost in spite +of her. She loved all things military. + +As for Bertrand, he sat bolt upright, with his head back, like a horse +scenting battle. Glancing at him, Chris wondered at his attitude, till +suddenly she recognized the strains of the Marseillaise. + +She squeezed his hand in sympathy as he helped her to alight, and he +looked at her with his quick smile of understanding. He was ever swift to +catch her meaning. + +They crossed a lawn that was crowded with people to a great cedar-tree, +beneath which their hostess was receiving her guests. A large woman with +a lazy smile was Mrs. Pouncefort, and wonderful dark eyes that were +seldom wholly revealed--a woman who took no pains to please and yet whose +charm was undeniable. Her monarchy was absolute and her courtiers many, +but other women looked at her askance, half-conscious of a veiled +antagonism. They were a little afraid of her also, though not one could +have said why, since no bitter word was ever heard to pass her lips. + +She greeted Chris with a cold, limp hand. "So nice of you to come. I hope +you won't be bored. Ah, Mr. Mordaunt, how is Kellerton Old Park by this +time? I hardly recognized it the day I called. Rupert tells me you have +worked wonders inside as well as out." + +"May I introduce our friend Monsieur Bertrand?" said Chris. + +Bertrand brought his heels together and bowed low over the limp hand +transferred to his. Mrs. Pouncefort smiled. + +"There is a fellow-countryman of yours here. Where has he gone? Ah, there +you are! Captain Rodolphe, let me introduce you to Mrs. Mordaunt and her +French friend Monsieur Bertrand." + +She extended one finger to Noel while making the introduction, and at +once turned her attention elsewhere. + +Chris found herself face to face with a heavy-browed man with an +overbearing demeanour and a mouth and chin that sneered perpetually +behind a waxed moustache and imperial. She stared at him for an instant +with a bewildered feeling of having seen him somewhere before. Then, as +she returned his bow, a stab of recognition pierced her, and she +remembered where. + +It flashed into her mind like a picture thrown upon a screen--that scene +upon the sands of Valpré long, long ago, two men fighting with swords +that gleamed in the sunlight, a child drawing near with wondering eyes to +behold the conflict, and an unruly black terrier scampering to end it! + +"I am delighted to make your acquaintance," declared Captain Rodolphe, +"and that of your friend--M. Bertrand?" + +He uttered the name interrogatively. Bertrand bowed very slightly, very +stiffly, and was instantly erect again. "That is my name," he said, as he +looked the other straight in the eyes. + +Captain Rodolphe was smiling. "I think we have not met before? It is +always a pleasure to meet a fellow-countryman in a strange land. That is +well understood, is it not, Mrs. Mordaunt?" + +His smooth speech brought her back to a situation that was not without +serious difficulties, difficulties which he for one was apparently +determined to ignore. Had he recognized her, she wondered? It seemed +probable that he had not. But then there was nothing in his manner to +indicate that he had recognized Bertrand either; yet of that there could +be no doubt. + +She heard her husband speaking to an acquaintance behind her, and +instinctively she began to move away from him. She did not feel equal to +effecting an introduction. She murmured something conventional about the +gardens, and Captain Rodolphe at once accompanied her. + +Bertrand walked in silence on her other side till, with an obvious +effort, Chris included him in the conversation, when he responded +instantly, with that ready ease of manner which had first drawn her to +rely upon him. But though he showed himself quite willing, as ever, to +help her, he did not once on his own initiative address the man who had +been introduced for his benefit; and Chris, aware of an atmosphere that +was highly charged with electricity, notwithstanding its apparent calm, +began to cast about for a means of escape therefrom. + +To rid herself of Captain Rodolphe was her first idea, but this was +easier of thought than accomplishment. He was chatting serenely, in +perfect English, and seemed to have taken upon himself the congenial task +of entertaining her for some time to come. He also did not directly +address her companion, unless she brought them into contact, and her +efforts in this direction very speedily flagged. She could not expect two +men, however courteous, to forget all in a moment the bitter enmity of +years merely to oblige her. They were quite ready to ignore it in her +presence, but the consciousness of it was more than Chris could endure +with equanimity. It disconcerted her at every turn. She felt as if she +trod the edge of a volcano, and her nerves, which had been so severely +strained for the past week, could not face this fresh ordeal. + +She turned at last in desperation, almost appealingly, to Bertrand. She +knew he would understand. Had he ever failed her in this respect or in +any other? + +"Do you mind going to see if I have dropped my handkerchief in the car?" +she asked him, with a nervous smile. + +His smile answered hers. Yes, he understood. "I shall go with pleasure," +he said, and with a quick bow was gone. + +Chris breathed a little sigh of relief, and moved on with her escort into +the rose-garden. + +He seemed scarcely aware of Bertrand's departure. He was plainly +engrossed in the pleasant pastime of conversing with her. Chris began to +give him more of her attention. No, she certainly did not like the man. +His sneer and his self-assurance disturbed her. He made her uncomfortably +conscious of her own youth and inexperience. She almost felt as if he +were playing with her. + +He talked at some length upon roses, a subject upon which he seemed to be +well informed, listened tolerantly to any remarks she made, and finally +conducted her to a long shrubbery that led back to the lawn. + +As they entered this, he lightly wound up the thread of his discourse and +broke it off. "I have been wondering for long," he said, "where it was +that I had seen you before. Now I remember." + +She turned a startled face towards him. He was smiling with extreme +complacence, but there was to her something sinister, something even +threatening, about the bushy brows that shadowed his gleaming eyes. He +put her in mind of a carrion-crow searching for treasures on a heap of +refuse. + +The impulse to deny all knowledge of him seized her--a blind impulse, +blindly followed. "I think you must be mistaken," she said. + +"How?" he ejaculated. "You do not remember Valpré--and what happened +there?" + +She saw her mistake on the instant, and hastened to cover it. "Valpré!" +she said, frowning a little. "Yes, I remember Valpré, though it is years +since I was there. But you--did I meet you at Valpré, Captain Rodolphe?" + +He bowed with a gallantry that seemed to her exaggerated. "Only once, +madame, but that once was enough to stamp you ineffaceably upon my +memory. It was, in fact, a memorable occasion. And I forget--never!" +Again with _empressement_ he bowed. "And still you do not remember me?" +he said. + +There was a mocking glint in his eyes. It was as though with a smile he +weighed her resistance, displaying it to herself as a quantity wholly +negligible. + +"I think you begin to remember now," he suggested. + +And quite suddenly Chris saw what he had with subtlety set about teaching +her, that to attempt to fence with him was useless. + +"Yes, I remember," she said, and there was a hint of most unwonted malice +in her capitulation. "Didn't I see you wounded in a duel?" + +He smiled, and she saw his teeth. "If my memory be correct it was to +madame herself that I owed that wound." + +She felt the quick blood rush to her face. He had spoken with _double +entendre_, but she did not perceive it until too late. She only +remembered suddenly and overwhelmingly that the duel had been fought on +her account, because of some evil word which this man had spoken of her +in Bertrand's hearing. She could well believe it of him--the sneering +laugh, the light allusion, the hateful insinuation underlying it. She +was beginning to look upon the evil of the world with comprehending +eyes--she, Chris, the gay of heart, the happy bird of Bertrand's paradise +whom no evil had ever touched. And though she shrank from it as one +dreading pollution, she dared not turn her back. + +He went on with more daring mockery, still with lips that smiled. "Ah! I +see you remember. That duel was an affair of interest to you, _hein_? You +were--the woman in the case." + +He leered at her intolerably, twisting his moustache. + +But that was more than Chris could endure. He had taken her by surprise +indeed, but he should not see her routed thus easily. She lifted her +dainty head and confronted him with pride. + +"Whatever the cause of the duel," she said very distinctly, "it was no +concern of mine, and it was by the merest accident that I witnessed it. +But in any case it is not a matter of sufficient importance to discuss +now. Shall we go on?" + +She put the question abruptly, with a little inward tremor, for the path +was narrow and he had come to a stand immediately in front of her. He +made a slight movement as if deprecating the obligation to detain her. +His eyes were suddenly very evil and so intent that she could not avoid +them. Yet still he smiled as though the situation amused him. + +"But you joke!" he protested, with a snap of the fingers. "I did not +suggest that it could be a matter of importance. It was all a +_bagatelle_, a fairy-tale, that should not have had so serious an end. +And your husband--he has heard the fairy-tale also? Or was it not of +sufficient importance to recount to him?" + +She would have turned from him at that, even though it had meant +ignominious flight, but his eyes held her, and she dared not. She could +only stand motionless, feeling her very heart grow cold. + +Softly, jeeringly, he went on, still toying with the moustache that did +not hide his smiling lips. "You have not told him yet? Ah! but it would +amuse him. That night you passed with the fairies, a siren among the +sirens, has he never heard of that? But you should tell him that! Or was +it perhaps only a joke _à deux_, and not _à trois_? I have heard that the +English husband can be strict, and you have found it so to your cost, +_hein_?" + +Her eyes blazed at the insult. For the first time in her life Chris was +so possessed by fury as to be actually sublime. She drew herself to her +full height. She met his mockery fearlessly, and, with a royal disregard +of consequences, she trod it underfoot. + +"Captain Rodolphe, be good enough to let me pass!" + +He stood aside instantly. He was even momentarily abashed. He had not +expected his game to end thus. She had seemed such an easy prey, this +English girl. Her discomfiture had been almost too obvious. He certainly +had not deemed her capable of this display of spirit. + +Yet in a moment, even as, erect and disdainful, she passed him by, he was +smiling again, a secret, subtle smile which she felt rather than saw. +Emerging into the hot sunshine that beat upon the crowded lawn, she knew +herself to be cold from head to foot. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE THIN END + + +"Good-bye!" said Mrs. Pouncefort. "So glad you came. I hope you haven't +been bored." + +"Bored to extinction," murmured Noel. "Hi, Trevor! Let me drive, like a +good chap. Do!" + +"Certainly not," said Mordaunt, with decision. "You are going to sit +behind. We shall meet the wind now, and Chris must come in front; it is +more sheltered." + +Chris submitted to this arrangement in silence. She was looking very +tired. Her husband regarded her keenly as he tucked her in, but he said +nothing. + +"What do you think of Mrs. Pouncefort's latest?" grinned Noel, as they +spun along the high-road. "I never met such a facetious brute in my life. +How did you like him, Bertrand?" + +"Who?" said Bertrand somewhat curtly. + +"What did they call him--Rodolphe, wasn't it? That French chap with the +beastly little beard." + +"I did not like him," said Bertrand, with precision. + +"That's all right," said Noel approvingly. "But he's reigning favourite +with Mrs. Pouncefort, anyone can see with half an eye. Rum, isn't it? +And little Pouncefort puts up with it like a lamb. But they say he's +just as bad. Daresay he is, though he's quite a decent little beggar to +talk to. I can't stand Mrs. Pouncefort at any price, while as for that +Frenchman"--he made a hideous grimace--"I'm glad you are not all alike, +Bertrand!" + +Bertrand responded to the compliment without elation. He seemed +preoccupied, and Noel, finding him uninteresting, turned his cheerful +attention elsewhere. + +Letters awaited them upon their return. Chris took up hers with scarcely +a glance, and went up to her room. + +Her husband, following a little later, found her sitting on a couch by +the window, perusing them. She glanced up at his entrance. + +"I have a letter from Aunt Philippa. She thinks we must be quite settled +by this time, and she wants to spend a day or two here next week, before +she goes to Scotland." + +"I suppose we can put up with her for a day or two," said Mordaunt. + +Her smile was slightly strained as she returned to the letter. "I suppose +we shall have to." + +He came and stood beside her, looking down at her bent head. The +burnished hair shone warmly golden in the evening sunlight. He laid a +quiet hand upon it. She started at his touch, and then sat very still. + +"I have heard from Hilda too," she said, after a moment. "They are +staying at Graysdale. Percy fishes all day and she sketches, when they +are not motoring. It was very sweet of her to write by return." + +A tear fell suddenly upon the open page. She covered it hastily with her +hand. Her husband's pressed her head very tenderly. + +"Chris," he said gently, "I wonder if you would like to go away for a +little?" + +She glanced up quickly, eagerly, with wet lashes. "Oh, Trevor!" she +breathed. + +He sat down beside her on the couch. "We will go to-morrow if you like," +he said. + +She slipped her hand into his. "I should love it!" + +"Would you?" he said. "I have been thinking of it for some days, but I +wasn't sure you would care for the idea." + +"But your work?" she said. "Those articles you wanted to finish? And that +political book of yours? And the alterations in the north wing, will they +be able to get on with those with you away?" + +"The literary work must stand over for a week or two," he said. "I shall +leave Bertrand in charge of the rest." + +"Bertrand!" She opened her blue eyes wide. "But--but he would be away, +wouldn't he?" Then quickly: "He would go with us, of course? You didn't +mean to leave him behind?" + +He raised his brows ever so slightly. "I meant just us two, dear," he +said. "Wouldn't you care for that?" + +"Oh!" said Chris blankly. "But, Trevor, we couldn't possibly leave him. +He isn't well. I--I shouldn't be happy about him. Besides--besides--" Her +words faltered under his straight look; she made a little appealing +gesture towards him. "Please understand," she said. + +He took both her hands into his. "My dear, I do understand," he said, +with the utmost kindness. "But I think he can be trusted to take care of +himself for a little while. If you have any doubts upon the subject, ask +him." + +She shook her head. "No, it wouldn't do. I--I'd really rather not go away +if it means--that. Besides, there is Noel. And next week there will be +Aunt Philippa. I think we had better give up the idea, Trevor; I do +really, anyhow for the present." She leaned nearer to him; her eyes +looked pleadingly into his. "Say you don't mind," she begged him, a +little tremulously. + +"I am only thinking of you, dear," he answered. + +She smiled with lips that quivered. "Well, don't think of me--at least, +not too much. I only want you just to be kind to me, that's all. I--I +shall be myself presently. You're very good to be so patient." + +Her lips were lifted to his. He bent and kissed her. But as he went +gravely away she had a feeling that she had disappointed him, and her +heart grew a little heavier in consequence. + +The sound of the piano in the drawing-room brought her down earlier than +usual for dinner, and she found Bertrand playing softly to himself in the +twilight. He had a delicate touch, and she always loved to hear him. + +She had with difficulty trained him not to spring up at her entrance, but +to-day he turned sharply round. + +"Christine, what did that _scélérat_ say to you?" + +The abruptness of his speech did not disconcert her. She was never ill at +ease with Bertrand, however sudden his mood. She came to the piano, and +stood facing him in the dusk. + +"He recognized me," she said. + +"Ah!" Bertrand's exclamation was deep in his throat, like the growl of an +angry dog. "And he said--?" + +Chris hesitated. + +Instantly his manner changed. He stretched out a quick hand. "Pardon my +impatience! You will tell me what he said?" + +Yet still she hesitated. His impetuosity had warned her to go warily if +she would not have him embroiling himself in another quarrel for her +sake. + +"It doesn't matter much, does it?" she said, rather wearily. "I wasn't +with him very long--no longer than I could help. He was objectionable, of +course, but that sort of man couldn't be anything else, could he?" + +"Tell me what he said," insisted Bertrand inexorably. + +But still she hedged, trying to temper his wrath. "He didn't tell me +anything new. I have known--for some time now--why you fought that duel." + +"Ah! You know that? But how?" + +She smiled wanly. "You forget I'm growing up, Bertie." + +He winced at that suddenly and sharply, but he made no verbal protest. +Only in the silence that followed there was something passionate, +something which she never remembered to have encountered before in her +dealings with him. + +At the end of a long pause he spoke, with obvious constraint. "And you +will not tell me what he said?" + +"Is it worth while?" said Chris. "I daresay we shall never see him +again." + +"He insulted you, no?" said Bertrand. + +She yielded, half-involuntarily, to his persistence. "He made +some--rather horrid--insinuations. He spoke of the duel and of what +happened at Valpré. And he asked--he asked if--Trevor knew." + +A fierce oath burst headlong from Bertrand, the first she had ever heard +him utter. He apologized for it instantly, almost in the same breath, but +she was startled by the violence of it none the less, so startled that +she decided then and there that, if she would keep the peace between him +and his enemy, she must confide in him no further. + +"But that was really all," she hastened to assure him. "I left him then, +and--and I think we had better forget it, Bertie. Promise me you will." + +He took the persuasive hand she laid upon his arm, but for several +seconds he did not speak. It seemed as if he could not trust himself to +do so. + +At last, "Christine," he said, "I think that your husband ought to know." + +She started at the words, almost snatching her hand from him. "Bertie! +What do you mean? Know of what?" + +He answered her with great steadiness; his eyes met hers unwaveringly. +"Of that which happened at Valpré," he said. + +She gazed at him in growing consternation. "Bertie, how--are you +mad?--how could I tell him that?" + +"With your permission, I will tell him," he said resolutely. + +But she cried out at that, almost as if he had hurt her: "Oh no, no, +never! Why should he know now? Don't you see how impossible it is? If I +had ever meant to tell him, it ought to have been long ago." + +"Yes," said Bertrand. + +The quietness of his tone only agitated her still further. His evident +determination terrified her. In that moment all her fear of her husband +rose to towering proportions, a monster she dared not even contemplate. +She clasped Bertrand's arm between her hands in wild, unreasoning +supplication. + +"Oh, you must not--you shall not! Bertie, you won't, will you? Promise +me you won't--promise me! He wouldn't understand. He would want to know +why I had never told him before. He would--he would--" + +"Ah! but I would explain," Bertrand protested gently. + +"But you couldn't! He would ask questions--questions I couldn't possibly +answer. If he didn't say them he would look them. And his eyes are so +terribly keen. They frighten me. They see--everything." + +"But, _chérie_," he reasoned, "they could not see what is not there. You +have nothing to hide from him. You have no shame. Why, then, have you +fear?" + +"I don't know," gasped Chris. "Only I know that he would never +understand. He would think--he would think--" + +"He would think that we have been--pals--for as long as we have known +each other," said Bertrand soothingly. "He knows it already. It is true, +is it not?" + +But Chris's eyes had been opened too suddenly and tragically. Her sense +of proportion was still undeveloped. "Yes, but he would never see it. You +could never explain to him so that he would understand. He would think I +had been deceiving him. He would think--Bertie, he would think"--her eyes +dilated, and she drew in her breath sharply--"that--that you and I ought +not to be friends any longer. Oh, don't tell him--please don't tell him. +Indeed I am right. He trusts you, and--and he trusts me. But he wouldn't +trust either of us any longer if he knew." + +"Christine! Christine!" + +"It is true," she asserted feverishly. "You don't know him as I do. Oh +no, he has never been hard to me. But he could be hard. And he wouldn't +forgive me--if he thought I had been hiding anything. Bertie, Bertie, you +won't do it? Say you won't do it!" + +"I do nothing without your consent," Bertrand answered quietly. "But I +think that it is a mistake. I think--" + +"Oh, thank you!" she broke in earnestly. "I know I can rely upon you to +keep your word. I can, can't I?" + +He smiled at a question which he would have borne from no other. "Until +death, Christine," he said. + +Her hands fell away from his arm. She was shaking all over. "I know I'm +foolish," she said. "I can't help it. I was made so. And when Trevor +begins to ask questions--" She broke off nervously. "What is that?" + +A leisurely footfall sounded in the hall, a quiet hand pressed the +electric switch by the door, and the room was flooded with light. + +"Oh, don't!" Chris cried out sharply. "Don't!" + +She put her hands over her face as if dazzled, and so stood quivering. + +"What is it?" Mordaunt asked. "Did I startle you?" + +He came to her. He drew her hands gently down. But she almost cowered +before him, and he let her go. + +"I think that she is tired," Bertrand said, his voice very low. + +"Is that all?" Mordaunt asked, looking at him. + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders, and made no reply. But Chris turned +at the question, turned and confronted her husband with wide, scared +eyes. + +"Yes, I am tired," she said, speaking jerkily, breathlessly. "But--but I +was startled too. I--I thought I heard Cinders--barking." + +It was the first time she had ever deliberately lied to him, and her eyes +met his full as she did it in desperate self-defence. + +He looked at her very steadily for the space of several seconds after she +had spoken, and in the silence Bertrand's hands clenched hard. + +Quietly at length Mordaunt turned round to him. "Don't let me interrupt +you," he said. "You were playing, weren't you? Chris and I are good +listeners." + +He took his wife's cold hand, and drew her to the sofa; and Bertrand, +seeing there was nothing else to be done, turned back to the piano and +resumed his playing. + +Not another word was spoken by any of them until Noel came upon the +scene, and airily dispelled the silence before he was aware of it. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ENEMY MOVES + + +"And you mean to say that this French secretary of Trevor's actually +lives in the house?" said Aunt Philippa. + +"But of course he does," said Chris, opening her eyes wide. + +"And is Trevor never away?" demanded Aunt Philippa. + +"He hasn't been, but he talks of spending a night in town next week." + +"And you will go with him?" + +"No, I don't think so. It's too hot." + +"Then I presume M. Bertrand will?" + +Chris flushed a little. "I don't suppose so. He is feeling the heat too." +She stretched up her hands above her head. "How I wish it would rain!" + +Aunt Philippa continued her knitting severely in silence. They were +sitting on the terrace awaiting the luncheon-hour. Across the garden came +Noel's shrill whistle, and instinctively, before she remembered her +aunt's presence, Chris answered it. The boy appeared at the farther end +of the long lawn, and came racing towards them. + +"Just seen the postman, Chris. Here's a letter for you--such a horrible +fist, Sandacre post-mark, and sealed. Wonder who it's from?" + +He leaned against her chair to recover his breath and regarded the +envelope he held with frank interest. + +Chris stretched up her hand for it. "I expect it's from Mrs. Pouncefort." + +"Mrs. Pouncefort doesn't write like that!" protested Noel. "No woman +could." + +"May I have it?" said Chris. + +He put it into her hand, but he still leaned against her chair. "Be quick +and open it, I say! It looks important." + +"I don't suppose it is," said Chris; but she opened it notwithstanding +with some curiosity. + +Aunt Philippa had arrived only the night before, but she was already very +tired of her society, and any diversion was welcome. + +"You don't mind?" she murmured to her aunt. + +Her eyes were already upon the first page as she spoke. She frowned over +the unfamiliar handwriting. + +Noel studied it also over her shoulder. "What on earth--" he began. + +She looked up suddenly, and crumpled the paper in her hand. "Noel, go +away! How dare you!" + +He stared at her in amazement. A sharp word from Chris was most unusual. +Aunt Philippa looked up also. + +"My dear girl, it isn't private, is it?" said Noel. + +Chris was scarlet. She seemed to breathe with difficulty. "Of course it's +private! All my letters are private!" + +"But it comes from the Pounceforts," objected Noel. "I saw 'Sandacre +Court' at the top of the page." + +Chris sprang to her feet impetuously with blazing eyes. "And what if it +does? You had no right to look over me. It was a hateful thing to do. +What if it does come from Mrs. Pouncefort? Is it mine any the less for +that?" + +"Oh, don't get huffy!" remonstrated Noel. "Look at you! Anyone would +think you had got the palsy. But you needn't pretend it's from Mrs. +Pouncefort, because I know better." + +"It--it is from Mrs. Pouncefort!" declared Chris. + +"Which is a lie," rejoined Noel, with the utmost calmness. "I know you, +my dear girl, I know you. You've told 'em before." + +"Noel!" Aunt Philippa interposed her voice with extreme dignity. "You +forget yourself. If you cannot speak with ordinary courtesy, be good +enough to leave us." + +Noel heeded the remonstrance no more than if it had been the buzzing of a +fly. Chris's spark of temper had kindled his. + +"Oh, you can swear it's the truth till all's blue," he declared, raising +his voice recklessly. "But that doesn't make it so. In fact, it only +makes the contrary all the more likely. Besides, you know you do lie, +Chris, so you needn't deny it." + +"Noel!" + +It was not Aunt Philippa's voice this time, and it had in it so firm a +note of authority that instinctively Noel turned. + +Mordaunt, just returned from a ride, was standing in his shirt-sleeves at +an open window above them. All the colour went out of Chris's face at +sight of him, but he did not look at her. + +"Come up here," he said to Noel. "I want to speak to you." + +"Not coming," said Noel promptly. + +"Come up here," Mordaunt repeated. + +"What for?" Noel looked up at him, hands in pockets. "You'll be late for +lunch if you don't buck up," he remarked, with a smile of cheery +impudence. + +His brother-in-law's face did not reflect his smile. It was grimly +determined. "Come up here," he said again. + +"Do go, Noel," Chris murmured uneasily. + +"I won't," said Noel doggedly. "I'm not going to be pitched into for +nothing. It was you who told the lie, not me." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" exclaimed Chris, in a fever of impatience. "Surely +you're not afraid of him!" + +"Anyone can see you are," retorted Noel. "I'll bet you daren't go +yourself!" + +She turned from him sharply without another word, and entered the house. + +She met her husband on the threshold of his room, and pushed him +impulsively back, her hands against his breast. + +"Trevor, please don't be angry with him. He--we often go on like that. +There is nothing to be angry about--indeed." + +He took her hands and held them. She was panting a little; he waited +while she recovered herself. Then, "Chris," he said very gently, "don't +you think it is time you left off being afraid of me?" + +"But when you are angry--" murmured Chris. + +"You have never seen me angry yet." + +"You are not angry with Noel?" she asked quickly. + +He smiled a little. "My dear child, Noel is no more capable of making me +angry than that fly on the ceiling. But I am not going to have him +behaving badly for all that." + +"But he didn't," she urged, in distress. "It was all my fault. +Trevor--Trevor, please don't say any more! He was quite right. I--I +didn't tell the truth." + +She made the confession in a broken whisper, with her face hidden against +him. But a moment later she had sprung away in haste, for there came the +clatter of careless feet upon the stairs, and Noel dashed suddenly upon +the scene. + +"Oh, I say, do stop jawing and come down," he said as he presented +himself. "Poor Aunt Phil is ravenous for her lunch. What do you want me +for, Trevor?" + +But Mordaunt turned his back abruptly. "I don't want you now," he said. +"You can go." + +"Dash it!" Noel said. "What a rotter you are!" He flung himself full +length upon the window-seat with elaborate nonchalance. "Run along, +Chris," he said. "We're going to talk politics. Shut the door after you. +That's right. Now, my good brother-in-law, what can I do for you?" + +He sat up to slay a wasp on the window-pane, flicked the corpse in +Mordaunt's direction with airy adroitness, and lay down again. + +"Are you in a wax over anything?" he inquired, with a yawn. + +Mordaunt turned quietly round. "Get up!" he said. + +Noel laughed up at him engagingly. "You can't kick me so easily lying +down, can you? But what do you want to kick me for? I'm quite harmless." + +"I am not going to kick you," Mordaunt said. "It is not my way." + +"All right, then. Why didn't you say so before?" Noel sat up and regarded +him with interest. "Well?" he said at the end of an expectant pause. +"Let's have it, man, and have done!" + +"I have nothing to give you," Mordaunt returned. "I told you you could +go." + +Something in the tone rather than the words caught Noel's attention. He +bounced suddenly from his lounging attitude to Mordaunt's side, and +thrust an affectionate arm about his shoulders. + +"What's the matter, old chap? You look as if you had found sixpence and +lost half a crown." + +"Perhaps I have," Mordaunt returned grimly. + +He did not repulse the friendly overture; that also was not his way. But +neither did he respond to it. He stood passive, looking out over the park +with unobservant eyes. + +"Cheer up, I say," urged Noel. "You're such a rattling good chap, you +know. I'm getting awfully fond of you." + +"Much obliged," said Mordaunt; but he did not seem highly gratified. In +fact, his thoughts were plainly elsewhere. + +Noel, however, would not be satisfied with this. "What are you grizzling +about?" he said. "Tell a fellow!" + +Mordaunt's eyes came down to him. "I wish you Wyndhams had a little sense +of honour," he said. + +"Oh, is that it?" said Noel. "Well, we are not top-heavy in that respect, +I own. But, after all, it's not worth worrying about. We get on very +nicely without it. And we wouldn't any of us sell a friend." + +"I'm glad to know you draw the line somewhere," Mordaunt observed. + +"Oh, rather! I wouldn't chouse you for the world. Chris wouldn't either. +But we're both shy of you, you know, because you're so beastly moral." He +gave his brother-in-law a warm hug to soften the effect of his words. +"You may as well tell me what you wanted to say to me just now," he +remarked. + +"I was going to request you to behave like a gentleman," Mordaunt +returned. "But as you don't seem to know what that means--" He paused, +looking straight into the Irish eyes that met his with such sublime +assurance. "Do you know what it means, Noel?" he asked. + +Noel grinned. "You can take me in hand and teach me if it isn't too much +trouble. I suppose you didn't like me to tell Chris she was lying about +that letter. But she was, you know. There's no getting away from that +fact, even if she is your wife." + +"I'm not trying to get away from facts," Mordaunt said. "But I do +object--strongly--to discourtesy. You may be her brother, but that +doesn't entitle you to insult her. Plainly, I won't have it from you or +anyone." + +"I didn't insult her," declared Noel. "I only said I knew she was telling +a cram. She knew it too." + +"I know what you said," Mordaunt returned with brevity. "And you are not +to say it again. Also, I must ask you to bear in mind that when I say a +thing I mean it--invariably. I've had more than enough disobedience from +you lately." + +"Oh, I say," said Noel, winking gaily, "you don't want much, do you?" + +Mordaunt relaxed a little. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder for a +moment. "You can be quite a good chap if you try," he said. + +Noel responded like a dog to a caress. "The mischief is to keep it up," +he said. "But we won't quarrel anyhow. I'll make every allowance for you, +old boy, for you're in a beastly unhealthy position; and you'll have to +do the same--savvy? But for all that, that letter was no more written by +Mrs. Pouncefort than by the man in the moon." + +"That letter," Mordaunt said very deliberately, "is neither your affair +nor mine." + +Could he have seen Chris at that moment he might have changed his mind +upon that point, but her young brother's careless chatter kept him from +seeking her; nor would he very readily have found her had he done so. + +For Chris was securely locked in a little room at the top of the house +that had been her childhood's bedroom, and here with blanched face and +hands that shook she was reading and reading again the letter that had +given rise to so much discussion. + +The handwriting was cramped and erratic, wholly unfamiliar, barely +decipherable; but she had mastered the contents with tragic dexterity. +Her understanding had leaped to the words. + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR MRS. MORDAUNT," so went the letter, "You have probably forgotten +my existence by this time, and it is with the utmost humility that I +venture to recall it to your memory. For myself, it will always be a +lasting pleasure to have met you again, and the fact that I share with +you a secret of other days cannot but prove a bond between us. That +secret I am prepared to guard faithfully, since--apparently--it is of +value, if you on your part are ready to purchase my discretion with that +of which all have need, but of which I temporarily am unhappily +deficient. Briefly, madame, for the sum of five hundred pounds I will +undertake that the episode of Valpré shall be consigned to oblivion so +far as I am concerned. Otherwise, the strict husband may hear more than +you have considered it convenient to tell him. + +"Yours, with many compliments, +GUILLAUME RODOLPHE." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A WARNING VOICE + + +Five hundred pounds! Five hundred pounds! It represented her year's +income to Chris. + +All night long she lay wide-eyed and still, facing her problem with a +quaking heart. It was like a suffocating weight upon her, crushing her +down. Five hundred pounds! And the need thereof so urgent that it must be +dealt with at once! But how to obtain it? How? How? + +All through the dark hours she lay revolving the matter, questioning this +way and that, bound hand and foot, yet not daring to contemplate the only +sane means at her disposal of obtaining freedom. To tell her husband the +simple truth, to throw herself unreservedly upon his generosity, to beg +his forgiveness and his help--these were the things she could not do. As +a matter of fact the truth had been so magnified by her fevered fancy +that it had begun to appear monstrous even in her own eyes. Those far-off +happenings at Valpré had become a dream with a nightmare ending. Not even +Aunt Philippa could have distorted them to a more exaggerated semblance +of evil. And to go to her husband now with such a story was utterly +beyond Chris's powers of accomplishment. She lacked the courage to speak +with simplicity and candour, and she was painfully aware that to give a +halting account of the matter would be infinitely more dangerous than to +keep silence. Already her husband's faith in her veracity had been +shaken. Was it likely that he would accept unquestioning her assurance +that this matter, which she had rigorously suppressed for so long and +which she only imparted to him now under compulsion, was in reality one +of trivial importance? Would he believe her? Had she ever fostered his +belief in her? Could he in reason do so even if he desired? + +Moreover, there was another obstacle. There was Bertrand. Though he had +offered to speak for her, though he had desired to explain all, and +though she knew that Trevor's faith in him was absolute, yet the presence +of Bertrand in itself made candour impossible. Why this should be she did +not know. It was a problem which she had not attempted to solve. But the +fact remained. She dreaded unspeakably the possibility of having to +describe the intimacy that had existed between herself and Bertrand in +the old, free, Valpré days. She dreaded the keen searching of the grey +eyes that, if they sought long enough, were bound to find her soul, and +not only to find, but to enter it, to penetrate to its most hidden +corner, and to draw out into the full light of day one of her most sacred +possessions. She felt that she could not bear this probing. The very +thought of it was horrible to her, and in connection with it the steady +scrutiny of her husband's eyes became almost a thing abhorrent. Vaguely +she knew, without realizing, that she cherished deep in that inmost +shrine something which he must never see, something that it would be +agony to show him, something that even now gnawed secretly at her +quivering heart. She always shrank from his direct look, though she would +not have him know it. The calm, level gaze frightened her, she knew not +why. Perhaps the secret of all her fear of him lay hidden in this problem +that she dared not face. + +No, she could not endure a full revelation of the truth. Bertrand had +declared that Mordaunt could not discover what was non-existent, but it +was not this that Chris feared. It was something infinitely more +terrible, a floating suspicion that might harden into actual fact at any +moment. + +And so her whole being was concentrated upon avoiding the catastrophe +that instinct warned her to be impending. Everything hung upon the +keeping of that secret which once had seemed to her so small a thing. It +had grown to mighty proportions of late. She did not ask herself +wherefore; but once in the night she smiled a piteous little smile at the +recollection of Manon, the maid-of-all-work, and her story of the spell +that bound all who entered the Magic Cave. She remembered how she had +laughed over it; but Bertrand had not laughed. He had been quite grave; +she remembered that also. He had even spoken as if he believed in it. For +a little her thoughts dwelt upon that night, on the quick confidences he +had poured out, on her own consternation over the nature of his +enterprise, on the words he had uttered then to comfort her. She had +never given them much thought before. To-night, lying by her husband's +side, they returned to her, and for the first time she pondered them +seriously. He had dismissed ambition and success, even the strife of +nations, at a breath. He had been able to do so even then, when he was +nearing the summit of his aspirations. "What are they?" he had said. +"Only a procession that marches under the windows, only a dream in the +midst of a great Reality." + +What had he meant by that? she asked herself, and searched her memory +for more. It came with a curious vividness, a winged message, straight +and sure as an arrow. "We look out above them," he had said, "you and +I"--suddenly she heard the very thrill of his voice, and it pierced her +through and through--"to the great heaven and the sun; and we know that +that is life--the Spark Eternal that nothing can ever quench." Chris did +not ask herself the meaning of that. She hid it away in her heart, +quickly, quickly, lest seeing she should also understand. + +It was very early in the morning when she slipped out of bed, and crept +to the open window to watch the stars fade into the dawning. She would +have liked to pray, but no prayer occurred to her. And so she knelt quite +passive, gazing forth over the dim garden, too tired to think any longer, +yet too miserable to sleep. She did not know that her husband's eyes +gravely watched her throughout her vigil, and when presently she lay down +again she still believed him to be sleeping. + +In the morning inspiration came to Chris. She believed Rupert to be out +of debt, thanks to Trevor's generosity. She would get him to raise the +money for her. She knew he must have ways and means of so doing which +were quite beyond her reach. At least, it seemed her only resource, and +she would try it. + +"Are you quite well, Chris?" her husband asked her when he rose at an +early hour, as was his custom. + +"Quite," said Chris. "Why?" + +She looked at him nervously with heavy-lidded eyes. + +He bent to kiss her before leaving the room. "Don't get up yet," he said +kindly. "Stay in bed and have a sleep." + +"But I--I have slept," she stammered. + +He put the hair gently back from her forehead. "I know all about it," he +said. + +She started away from him in sheer panic. "About what?" she gasped, in a +whisper; then, seeing his brows go up, "Oh, Trevor, I--I'm sorry. No, I +haven't slept very well. But--" + +"I thought not," he interposed quietly. "Well, sleep now, dear." + +He turned to go, but impulsively she caught his hand, held it a moment, +then suddenly put it to her lips. But she would not look at him, would +not even raise her eyes again; and he, after the briefest pause, withdrew +his hand, touched her cheek with it lightly, and so left her. + +When they met again at the breakfast-table she was discussing with Aunt +Philippa the best means of spending the day. Bertrand was not present. He +usually took chocolate at that hour in Mordaunt's room, where he could +continue his secretarial work uninterrupted. Noel was not yet down. + +Chris turned at once to address her husband. "I have had a line +from Max. He is coming down for a few days I think he hasn't been +well--overworking, he says." + +"I can scarcely believe," said Aunt Philippa, with her acid smile, "that +a Wyndham could ever suffer from that complaint." + +"They don't over-rest, anyhow," said Mordaunt, with a glance at his +wife's tired face. "I shall be very pleased to see him, Chris. Write and +tell him so." + +"I don't think I need write," she said. "He will be here this +afternoon. Shall I ask Rupert to come over and dine, so that we can all +be together--that is, if Aunt Philippa doesn't mind?" + +"Pray do not consider me," said Aunt Philippa. + +"Do exactly as you like," said Mordaunt quietly. "Rupert is always +welcome so far as I am concerned." + +Chris rose from the table as he sat down. "I will send him a note at once +if I may, or I shall miss the post." + +"Have you had any breakfast?" he asked, detaining her as she passed his +chair. + +"None at all," said Aunt Philippa. + +"Oh, Aunt Philippa, I have, indeed!" protested Chris, colouring vividly. +"Besides, I'm not hungry." + +"Besides!" echoed Mordaunt, faintly smiling. "Drink a cup of hot milk +before you go." + +She made a wry face. "I can't. I hate it. Please don't keep me!" + +"Then do as you are told," he said. "I thought I ordered you to stay in +bed." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" said Chris; but she went back to her place and +poured out the milk as he desired. + +"Now drink it," he said, with his eyes upon her. + +She obeyed him without further protest, finally setting the cup down with +a sigh of relief. + +Mordaunt rose to open the door. "You are not to do anything energetic +to-day," he said. + +She threw him a smile, half-shy, half-wistful, and departed without +replying. + +He turned back into the room and sat down. "I am not quite satisfied +about Chris," he said. + +"Neither am I," said Aunt Philippa, with unexpected severity. + +He looked at her with awakened attention. "No?" he said courteously. + +"No." Very decidedly came Aunt Philippa's reply. "I intended to speak to +you upon the subject, my dear Trevor, and I am glad that an early +opportunity for so doing has presented itself." + +"You think she looks ill?" Mordaunt asked. + +"Not at all," said Aunt Philippa. "The intense heat we have had lately is +quite sufficient to account for her jaded looks. She has probably also +been fretting unreasonably over the death of her dog. I believe that +animal was the only thing in the world she ever really cared for." + +Mordaunt rested his chin on his hand, and looked at her thoughtfully. +"Indeed!" he said. + +Neither his voice nor his face expressed anything whatever beyond a +decorous gravity. Aunt Philippa began to feel slightly exasperated. + +"She will get over that," she said, with a confidence that held more of +contempt than tolerance. "None of the Wyndhams are fundamentally capable +of taking anything seriously for long. You must have discovered their +instability for yourself by this time." + +"Not with respect to Chris." Was there a hint of sternness underlying the +placidity of the rejoinder? There might have been, but Aunt Philippa was +too intent upon the matter she had taken in hand to notice it. + +"Oh, well," she said, "you haven't been married six weeks yet, have you? +You will see what I mean sooner or later. But you may take it from me +that all of them--Chris included--are without an atom of solidity in +their composition. I warn you, Trevor, very seriously; they are not to be +depended upon." + +Mordaunt heard her without changing his position. His eyes looked +straight at her from under lids that never stirred. "Is that what you +have to say to me?" he asked, after a moment. + +"It leads to what I have to say," returned Aunt Philippa with dignity. + +She was quite in her element now, and enjoying herself far too thoroughly +to be lightly disconcerted. + +"Pray finish!" he said. + +That gave her momentary pause. "I am speaking solely for your welfare," +she told him. + +"I do not question it," he returned. + +Yet even she was aware that his stillness was not all the outcome of +courteous attention. There was about it a restraint which made itself +felt, as it were, in spite of him, a dominance which she set down to his +forceful personality. + +"The subject upon which I chiefly desire to speak a word of warning," she +said, "is the presence in the house--the constant presence--of your young +French secretary." + +"Yes?" said Mordaunt. + +He betrayed no surprise, but the word fell curtly, as if he found himself +face to face with an unpleasant task and desired to be through with it as +quickly as possible. + +Aunt Philippa proceeded with just a hint of caution. "My dear Trevor, +surely you are aware of the danger!" + +"What danger?" + +A difficult question, which Aunt Philippa answered with diplomacy. "Chris +was always something of a flirt." + +"Indeed!" said Mordaunt again. + +His manner was so non-committal that Aunt Philippa began to lose her +patience. "I should have thought that fact was patent to everyone." + +"Never to me," said Chris's husband very deliberately. + +Aunt Philippa smiled. "Then you are remarkably blind, my dear Trevor. +Flightiness has been her chief characteristic all her life. If you have +not yet found that out, I fear she must be deceitful as well." + +"I am not discussing my wife's character," Mordaunt made answer very +steadily. + +"You prefer to shut your eyes to the obvious," said Aunt Philippa, +beginning to be aware of something formidable in her path but not quite +grasping its magnitude. + +"I prefer my own estimate of her to that of anyone else," he made quiet +reply. + +Aunt Philippa made a slight gesture of uneasiness. The steady gaze was +becoming a hard thing to meet. Had the man been less phlegmatic, she +could almost have imagined him to be in a white heat of anger. He was so +unnaturally quiet, his whole being concentrated, as it were, in a +composure that she could not but feel to be ominous. + +It was with an effort that the woman who sat facing him resumed her +self-appointed task. "That I can well understand," she said. "But even +so, I think you should bear in mind that Chris is young--and frail. You +are not justified in exposing her to temptation." + +"As how?" + +Aunt Philippa hesitated for the first time in actual perturbation. + +Mordaunt waited immovably. + +"I think," she said at length, "that you would be very ill-advised if you +went to town and left her here--thrown entirely upon her own resources." + +"May I ask if you are still referring to my secretary?" he said. + +She bent her head. "I have never approved of her being upon such intimate +terms with him. She treats him as if--as if--" + +"As if he were her brother," said Mordaunt quietly. "I do the same. I +have many friends, but he is the one man in the world who possesses my +entire confidence. For that reason I foster their friendship, for I know +it to be a good thing. For that reason, if I were dying, I would +confidently leave her in his care." + +"My dear Trevor, the man has bewitched you!" protested Aunt Philippa. + +His eyes fell away from her at last, and she was conscious of distinct +relief, mingled with a most unwonted tinge of humiliation. + +"I am obliged to you," he said formally, "for taking the trouble to warn +me. But you need never do so again. Believe me, I am not blind; and Chris +is safe in my care." + +He rose with the words, and went to the sideboard for his breakfast. Here +he remained for some time with his back turned, but when he finally came +back to the table there was no trace of even suppressed agitation about +him. + +He sat down and began to eat with a perfectly normal demeanour. The +silence, however, remained unbroken until Noel burst tempestuously into +the room. No silence ever outlasted his appearance. + +He flung his arms round his brother-in-law and embraced him warmly, with +a friendly, "Hullo, you greedy beggar! Hope you haven't gobbled up +everything! I'm confoundedly hungry. Morning, Aunt Philippa! I suppose +you fed long ago? It's a disgusting habit, isn't it? But one we can't +dispense with at present. Where's Chris?" + +"Chris," said Aunt Philippa icily, "has already breakfasted, and so have +I." + +She moved towards the door as she spoke. Noel sprang with alacrity to +open it, and bowed to the floor behind her retreating form. + +"She looks like a dying duck in a thunderstorm," he observed, as he +returned to the table. "What have you been doing to her? Has there been a +thunderstorm?" + +Mordaunt met his inquiring eyes without a smile. "Noel," he said, "if you +can't be courteous to your aunt and your sister, I won't have you at the +table at all--or in the house for that matter." + +Noel uttered a long whistle. "I thought I smelt the reek of battle in the +air! What's up? Anything exciting?" + +"Do you understand me?" Mordaunt said, sticking to his point. + +Noel broke into smiles. "Oh, perfectly, my dear chap! You're as simple as +the Book of Common Prayer. But it would be a pity to kick me out of the +house, you know. You'd miss me--horribly." + +Mordaunt leaned back in his chair. "Then I'll give you a sound caning +instead." + +Noel nodded vigorous approval. "Much more suitable. I like you better +every day. So does Chris. I believe she'll be in love with you before +long." + +"Really?" said Mordaunt. + +"Yes, really." Noel was munching complacently between his words. "I never +thought you'd do it. The odds were dead against you. She only married you +to get away from Aunt Philippa. Of course you know that?" + +"Really?" Mordaunt said again. He was not apparently paying much +attention to the boy's chatter. + +"Yes, really," Noel reiterated, with a grin. "It's solid, simple, sordid +fact. The only chap she ever seriously cared about was a little beast of +a Frenchman she chummed up with years ago at Valpré. I never met the +beggar myself, but I'm sure he was a beast. But I'll bet she'd have +married him if she'd had the chance. They were as thick as thieves." + +At this point Mordaunt opened the morning paper with a bored expression, +and straightway immersed himself in its contents. + +Noel turned his attention to his breakfast, which he dispatched with +astonishing rapidity, finally remarking, as he rose: "But you never can +tell what a woman will do when it comes to the point--unless she's a +suffragette, in which case she may be safely relied on to make a howling +donkey of herself for all time." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A BROKEN REED + + +"But, my good girl, five hundred pounds!" Rupert looked down at his +sister with an expression half-humorous, half-dismayed. "What do you +think I'm made of?" he inquired. + +She stood before him, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. "I +must have it! I must have it!" she said piteously. "I thought you might +be able to raise it on something." + +"But not on nothing," said Rupert. + +"I would pay it back," she urged. "I could begin to pay back almost at +once." + +"Why on earth don't you ask Trevor for it?" he said. "He's the proper +person to go to." + +"Oh, I know," she answered. "And so I would for anything else, but not +for this--not for this! He would ask questions, questions I couldn't +possibly answer. And--oh, I couldn't--I couldn't!" + +"What have you been up to?" said Rupert curiously. + +"Nothing--nothing whatever. I've done nothing wrong." Chris almost wrung +her hands in her agitation. "But I can't tell you or anyone what I want +it for. Oh, Rupert, you will help me! I know you will!" + +"Steady!" said Rupert. "Don't get hysterical, my child. That won't serve +anybody's turn. I suppose you've been extravagant, and daren't own up. +Trevor is a bit of a Tartar, I own. But five hundred pounds! It's utterly +beyond my reach." + +"Couldn't you borrow it from someone?" pleaded Chris. "Rupert, it's only +for a time. I'll pay back a little every month. And you have so many +friends." + +Rupert made a grimace. "All of whom know me far too well to lend me +money. No, that cock won't fight. I've a hundred debts of my own waiting +to be settled. Trevor wasn't disposed to be over-generous the last time I +approached him. At least, he was generous, but he wasn't particularly +encouraging. He's such a rum beggar, and I have my own reasons for not +wanting to go to him again at present." + +"Of course you couldn't go to him for this," said Chris. "But--Rupert, if +you could only help me in this matter, I would do all I could for you. I +would give you every farthing I could spare, indeed--indeed. I might even +ask him for a little later on--not yet, of course, but by and bye, if I +saw an opportunity. Oh, you don't know what it means to me--how much +depends upon it." + +"Why don't you tell me?" Rupert asked. + +"Because I can't--I daren't!" Chris laid imploring hands upon his +shoulders; her eyes besought him. "Dear Rupert, it isn't that I don't +trust you. Don't think that! But it wouldn't do any good if you knew, and +I simply can't talk about it. I've shown how much I trust you by asking +you to help me out of my trouble. There is no one else in the world that +I could ask--not even Max. He would make me tell him everything. But you +won't, dear; I know you won't, will you?" + +It was impossible not to be moved by her earnest pleading. Rupert slipped +an arm around her. "You needn't be afraid of me," he said. + +"I know I needn't," she answered, laying her cheek against him with a +quick gesture of confidence. "And I am of everyone else--even of Bertie. +It's absurd, isn't it? Fancy being afraid of Bertie!" She smiled through +tears. + +"He doesn't know, then?" said Rupert. + +"Bertie? No, no, of course not! I wouldn't have him know for the world. +He would go and do--something desperate." Chris's startled eyes testified +to her dread of this contingency. "No, I haven't dared to tell anyone, +except you. If you can't help me, there's no one left. I--I shall run +away and drown myself." + +"Oh, nonsense!" said Rupert. "There's a way out of every difficulty if +one has the wit to find it. Keep cool, my dear girl! If you let yourself +go, you will give your own show away." + +"I know! I know!" gasped Chris. "But what can I do? It would kill me if +Trevor knew!" + +Rupert's arm tightened protectingly about her. At least they stood by +each other, these Wyndhams. "Then Trevor mustn't know," he rejoined. +"I'll manage it somehow if it's humanly possible. You must let me think +it over. And in the meantime, for goodness' sake, keep cool. If Trevor +were to see you now, he would know there was something up directly." + +As a matter of fact, he himself had never seen his sister so agitated +before. She was like a terrified bird in a trap. What on earth had she +been doing? he wondered. What made her go in such abject fear of her +husband that the very mention of his name was enough to send every +vestige of colour from her face? + +He grasped her trembling fingers reassuringly. "There! Leave it to me," +he said. "I'll find a way out, never fear. I've been in a good many tight +corners in my time, but I've always wriggled out somehow. I suppose you +want the money soon?" + +"At once," said Chris. + +He made a grimace, as of one swallowing a nauseous draught. "All right, +you shall have it. Now, don't worry any more. It's going to be all +right." He patted her shoulder kindly. "Only, for Heaven's sake, don't do +it again!" + +She shivered, and turned away to hide her quivering lips. "If--if you can +get me the money this once," she said, "I--I'll never ask you again, and +I'll give you every farthing--every farthing--" + +"My dear child, I don't want your farthings," responded Rupert cheerily. +"If you can make it fifty pounds now, I shall be quite grateful. But I'll +get you yours first, never mind how. Now, hadn't we better go back to the +rest? Aunt Philippa will be wondering what we are conspiring about. By +the way, when does she depart?" + +"Soon, I hope," said Chris fervently. + +He grinned. "Had enough of her, eh? So, I should imagine, has Trevor. He +is keener on giving advice than taking it, if I know anything about him." + +"She wouldn't dare to give Trevor advice," protested Chris. + +"Ho! wouldn't she?" He laughed derisively, as they turned to leave the +little room in the roof that was her refuge, but paused at the door to +slip his arm through hers. "You're not to worry, young 'un," he said, +with a patronage that did not veil concern. "Do you know you're looking +downright ill?" + +She smiled up at him wistfully. "Things have been pretty horrid lately. +But I won't worry any more if--if you tell me I needn't." + +"You needn't," he said, and impulsively he stooped and kissed her. He had +always had a protecting tenderness for his little sister. + +They descended to the drawing-room to find Aunt Philippa writing letters +in solitary state. The rest of the company, with the exception of +Mordaunt, who was at work in his own room, were in the billiard-room just +beyond, and Chris and Rupert repaired thither, relieved to make their +escape so easily. + +They found Bertrand, who was an expert player, making a long break. He +was playing against Max, whose opinion of him was obviously rising with +this display of skill. + +He was engaged upon a most difficult stroke when Chris entered, and she +stopped behind him lest she should disturb his aim. But he turned round +at once to her, leaving the balls untouched. + +"_Mais non_!" he declared lightly. "I cannot play with my back to my +hostess. It is an affair _très difficile_, and I must have everything in +my favour." + +"Oh, don't let me spoil your luck!" she said. + +She came and stood at the end of the table to watch him. + +"That would not be possible," he protested, as he applied himself again +to the ball. + +He achieved the stroke with that finish and dexterity that marked all he +did. + +"Oh, I say!" said Noel disgustedly. "You haven't a look-in, Max. He plays +like a machine." + +"You like not to be beaten by a Frenchman, no?" laughed Bertrand. "_Il +faut que les anglais soient toujours, toujours les premiers, hein_?" He +stopped suddenly, for Chris had made the faintest movement, as if his +words had touched some chord of memory. He flashed her a swift look, and +the smile died out of his face. He moved round the table, and again +stooped to his stroke. "But what is success after all," he said, "and +what is failure?" + +"You ought to know," Max observed dryly, as again he made his point. + +The Frenchman straightened himself. There was something of kinship +between these two, a tacit sympathy that had taken root on the night of +Chris's birthday, an understanding that called for no explanation. + +"Yes," he said, with a quick nod, "I know them both. They are worth +just--that." He snapped his fingers in the air. "They pass like"--he +hesitated a moment, then ended with deliberation--"like pictures in the +sand." + +"The same remark applies to most things," said Rupert. + +Bertrand glanced at him. "To all but one, monsieur," he said, in a queer +tone that was almost tinged with irony. + +Again he bent himself to a stroke with a quick, light grace, as though he +regarded success as a foregone conclusion. + +"Look at that!" said Noel in dejection, as the ball cannoned triumphantly +down the table. "The gods are all on his side." + +The stroke was a brilliant one, but Bertrand did not immediately +straighten himself as before. He remained leaning across the table, as if +he watched the effect of his skill. + +There was a brief pause before very carefully he laid his cue upon the +cloth and began to raise himself, slowly, with infinite caution, using +both hands. + +"No," he said, speaking jerkily, in a rapid undertone, as if to himself. +"The gods--are no more--on my side." + +A sharp gasp escaped him. He stood up, and they saw the sweat running +down his forehead. "Will you--excuse me for a moment?" he said. "I +have--forgotten _quelque chose_." + +He turned towards Chris with punctilious courtesy, clicked his heels +together, bowed, and walked stiffly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A MAN OF HONOUR + + +An amazed silence followed his exit; then, in a quick whisper, Chris +spoke. + +"He isn't well. I'm sure he isn't well. Did you see--his face--when he +stood up?" + +She turned with the words as if she would go after him, but Max checked +her sharply. "No, you stay here. I'm going." + +She paused irresolute. "Let me come too." + +"Don't be silly," said Max. He frowned at her scared face for a moment, +then smiled abruptly. "Don't be silly!" he said again. He passed down the +room with what seemed to her maddening deliberation, opened the door, and +went quietly out. + +Aunt Philippa was still busy with her correspondence in the drawing-room. +She glanced up as he went through. "Can you tell me what time the evening +post goes out? I have just asked M. Bertrand, but he did not see fit to +answer me." + +"Then he couldn't have heard you," said Max. "The post goes out at +nine-thirty." + +"Ah! Then perhaps you would wait a moment while I direct this envelope, +and you can then give it to a servant with orders to take it to the +post-office at once." + +Max drew his red brows together and waited. + +The scratching of Aunt Philippa's pen filled in the pause. She directed +her envelope, blotted it with care, stamped it with precision, finally +handed it to her nephew with the request, "Please remember that it is +important." + +Max received it with reverence. "I shall treat it with the utmost +veneration," he said. He knew that his aunt had a strong dislike for him, +and he fostered it with much enjoyment upon every possible occasion. + +He slipped the letter into his pocket as he left the room and promptly +dismissed it from his mind. + +He turned aside into the dining-room, rummaged for brandy and found it, +and went with noiseless speed upstairs. + +The door of Bertrand's room was unlatched, and he pushed it open without +ceremony. Blank darkness met him on the threshold, but a sound within +told him the room was tenanted. He switched on the light without delay, +entered, and shut the door. + +He found Bertrand seated huddled on the edge of his bed, gasping horribly +for breath. He did not apparently hear Max enter. His close-cropped head +was bowed upon his arms. His hands were opening and closing convulsively. +He rocked to and fro almost with violence, but no sound beyond his +spasmodic breathing escaped him. + +Max set down the brandy and took him by the shoulders. "Look here," he +said, "lie down. I'll help you." + +Bertrand started a little at his touch, and Max had a glimpse of his +tortured face as he glanced up. "_Fermez la porte_!" he said, in a choked +whisper. + +The door was already shut. Max wheeled and turned the key. "Now!" he +said. + +He stooped over the Frenchman, and with the utmost care lifted him back +on to the pillows, unfastened his collar, then turned to fling the +windows as wide as they would go. The night air, fragrant with rain, blew +in, rustling the curtains. Bertrand turned his face towards it +instinctively. His lips were blue; they worked painfully, as if, between +his gasping, he were still trying to speak. + +"Keep still!" Max said. + +He mixed some brandy and water, and returning, slipped his arm under the +pillow. "Don't exert yourself," he said. "I'll do it all." + +Very steadily he held the glass for Bertrand to drink. He could take but +very little at a time, so agonized was his struggle for breath. Max +waited through each pause, closely watching the drawn face, never missing +his opportunity. And gradually that little took effect. The anguish died +out of Bertrand's eyes, and he lay still. + +Max slipped his arm from beneath the pillow and stood up. "Don't move," +he said. "You're getting better." + +"You--will stay--with me?" whispered Bertrand. + +"Yes." + +He drew up a chair, and sat down, took the Frenchman's wrist between his +fingers, and so remained for a long time. + +Bertrand lay with closed eyes, his breathing still short and occasionally +difficult, but no longer agonized. + +There came the sound of flying feet along the corridor, and an impatient +hand hammered on the door. + +"Hullo, Bertrand! Are you all right? Chris wants to know," shouted a +boyish voice. + +Bertrand started violently, and a quiver of pain went through him. He +fixed his eyes imploringly on Max, who instantly rose to the occasion. + +"Of course he's all right. You clear out! We're busy." + +"What are you doing?" Keen curiosity sounded in Noel's voice. + +"Never mind! We don't want you," came the brotherly rejoinder. + +"But I say--" + +"Clear out!" ordered Max. "Go and tell Chris that Bertrand is writing a +letter to catch the post; which reminds me," he added grimly, "you can +also tell Holmes to come and fetch it in a quarter of an hour. Don't +forget now. It's important." + +He pulled the letter entrusted to his keeping from his pocket and tossed +it on to the table. + +Noel departed, and with an effort Bertrand spoke. + +"But that was not the truth." + +"Near enough," responded the second Wyndham complacently. "That is, if +you don't want everyone to know." + +Bertrand's brows contracted. "No--no! I would not that your sister should +know, or Mr. Mordaunt." + +"They will have to sooner or later," observed Max. + +"Then--let it be later," murmured Bertrand. + +Again there fell a silence, during which he seemed to be collecting his +strength, for when he spoke again it was with more firmness. + +"Mr. Wyndham!" + +"All right, you can call me Max. I'm listening," said Max. + +Bertrand faintly smiled. That touch of good-fellowship pleased him. Young +as he was, this boy somehow made him feel that he understood many things. + +"Then, Max," he said, "I think that you know already that which I am +going to say to you. However, it is better to say it. It is not possible +that I shall live very long." + +He paused, but Max said nothing. He sat, still holding Bertrand's wrist, +his gaze upon the opposite wall. + +"You knew it, no?" Bertrand questioned. + +"I suspected it," Max said. He turned slightly and looked at the man upon +the bed. "This isn't your first attack," he said. + +Bertrand shuddered irrepressibly. "Nor my second," he said. + +"I can give you something to ease the pain," Max said. "But if you're +wise you will consult a doctor." + +Again a faint smile flickered over Bertrand's face. "I am not enough +wise," he said, "to desire to prolong my life under these conditions." + +"I should say the same myself," observed Max somewhat curtly. + +He offered no further advice, but sat on, waiting apparently for further +developments. + +After a little Bertrand proceeded. "I have known now for some time that +this malady was incurable. I think that I would not have it otherwise, +for I am very tired. I am old too--much older than even you can +comprehend. I have undergone the suffering of a lifetime, and I am too +tired to suffer much more. But--look you, Max--I do not want to make +suffer those my friends whom I shall leave behind. That is why I pray +that the end may come quick--quick. And, till then--I will bear my pain +alone." + +"And if you can't?" said Max. "If it gets too much for you?" + +"The good God will give me strength," the Frenchman said steadfastly. + +Max shrugged his shoulders. "It's your affair, not mine. But I don't see +why you shouldn't tell Trevor. He will be hurt by and bye if you don't." + +But Bertrand instantly negatived the suggestion. "He is already +much--much too good to me. I cannot--I will not--be further indebted to +him. My services are almost nominal now. Also"--he paused--"if I tell +him, I cannot remain here longer, and--I have made a promise that for the +present I will remain." + +Max's shrewd eyes took another quick look at him. "For Chris's benefit, I +suppose?" he said, and though his tone was a question, it scarcely +sounded as if he expected an answer. + +Bertrand's eyes met his for an instant in a single lightning glance of +interrogation. They fell again immediately, and there followed a +considerable pause before he made reply: "I do not abandon my friends +when they are troubled and they have need of me." + +"Does Chris need you?" Max asked ruthlessly. + +Again that swift glance shooting upwards; again a lengthy pause. Then, +"_Vous avez la vue perçante_," Bertrand remarked in a low tone. + +"I can't help seeing things," Max returned. "I suppose it's my +speciality. I knew you were in love with her from the first moment I saw +you." + +Bertrand made a slight movement, as if the crude statement hurt him; but +he answered quite quietly, "You have divined a secret which is known to +none other. I confide it to your honourable keeping." + +The corners of Max's mouth went down. He looked as if he were on the +verge of making some ironical rejoinder, but he restrained it, merely +asking, "Are you sure that no one else knows it?" + +"You mean--?" The words came sharply this time; Bertrand's eyes searched +his face with keen anxiety. + +"Chris herself," Max said. + +"_La petite Christine! Ma foi, no_! She has never known!" Bertrand's +reply was instant and held unshaken conviction. + +"You seem very sure of that," Max observed. + +"I am sure. Also"--a queer little smile of tenderness touched Bertrand's +drawn face--"she never will know now." + +"Meaning you will never tell her?" Max said. + +"Me, I will die first!" Bertrand answered simply. + +Max grunted. "Women have an awkward knack of finding things out without +being told," he observed. + +"She will never discover this while I live," Bertrand answered. "I am her +friend--the friend of her childhood--nothing more than that." + +"But if she did find out?" Max said. + +"She will not." + +"But--suppose it for a moment--if she did?" He stuck to his point +doggedly, plainly determined to get an answer. + +"In that case I should depart at once," Bertrand answered. + +"Yes, and where would you go to?" + +Bertrand was silent. + +"You would go back to London and starve?" Max persisted. + +"Perhaps." Bertrand spoke as though the matter were one of indifference +to him. "It would not be for long," he said rather dreamily. + +"Oh, rot!" Max's rejoinder was intentionally vehement. "Look here," he +said, as Bertrand looked at him in surprise, "you can't go on like that. +It's too damned foolish. If, for any reason, you do leave this place, you +must have some plan of action. You can't let yourself drift." + +"No?" Bertrand still looked surprised. + +"No," Max returned vigorously. "Now listen to me, Bertrand. If I am to +keep quiet about this illness of yours, you have got to make me a +promise." + +Bertrand raised his brows interrogatively. + +"Just this," Max said, "that if you find yourself at a loose end, you +will come to me." + +Bertrand looked quizzical. "A loose end?" he questioned. + +"You know what it means all right," Max returned sternly. "Is it a +promise?" + +"That I come to you if I need a friend?" amended Bertrand. "But--why +should I do that?" + +"Because I am a friend if you like," said Max bluntly. + +Bertrand's hand closed hard upon his. "I have--no words," he said, in a +voice from which all banter had departed. + +Max gripped the hand. "Then it's a promise?" + +Bertrand hesitated. + +"You have no choice," Max reminded him. "And if you will come to me I can +find a way to help you. It wouldn't even be difficult. And you would have +skilled nursing and attention. Come, it's either that or Trevor will have +to be told. He'll see that you don't go back to starve in the streets." + +"I will not have Mr. Mordaunt told," Bertrand said quickly and firmly. + +"Then you will give me this promise," Max returned immovably. + +With a gesture of helplessness the Frenchman yielded. "_Eh bien_, I +promise." + +"Good!" said Max. He laid Bertrand's hand down and rose. + +Yet a moment he stood above him, looking downwards. "You keep your +promises, eh?" he asked abruptly. + +Bertrand flushed. "I am a man of honour," he said proudly. + +"Yes, I know you are." Max touched his shoulder with a boyish, +propitiatory movement. "I beg your pardon, old chap. I'd be one myself if +I could." + +"But you--but you--" Bertrand protested in confusion. + +"I am a Wyndham," said Max, with a bitter smile. "It doesn't run in our +family, that. But I'll play the game with you, man, just because you're +straight." + +He patted Bertrand's shoulder lightly, and turned away. There were not +many who knew Max Wyndham intimately, and of those not one who would have +credited the fact that the innate honour of a French castaway had somehow +made him feel ashamed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WOMANHOOD + + +"A thousand thanks, _chère Madame_, for the generous favour which you +have bestowed upon me! I shall make it my business to see that no rumour +of your droll secret of Valpré ever reach the ear of the strict husband, +lest he should imagine that among the rocks of that paradise there lies +entombed something more precious to him than the gay romance of your +youth. + +"To this undertaking I subscribe my signature, with many compliments to +the good secretary; and to you, _chère Madame_, my ever constant +devotion. + +"_Toujours à vous_, +GUILLAUME RODOLPHE. + +"P.S.--It is with profound regret that I find myself unable to visit you, +but my duty recalls me to my regiment in Paris." + +A faint sigh escaped Chris, the first breath she had drawn for many +seconds. She stood by her dressing-table in the full glare of the +electric light, dressed in white, her wonderful hair shining like +burnished copper. She was to give her first dinner-party that night. It +was not to be a very large affair, yet it was something of an ordeal in +her estimation. She would probably have faced it more easily away from +Aunt Philippa's critical eyes. But this was a condition not obtainable. +Aunt Philippa had decided to remain some little time longer at Kellerton +Old Park in consequence of an engagement having fallen through, a state +of affairs that Noel regarded with a disgust too forcible to be expressed +in words, and which had driven Max away within three days of his arrival. + +Upon Chris had devolved the main burden of her aunt's society, and a +heavy burden she had begun to find it. Aunt Philippa had apparently +determined to spend her time in transforming her young niece into a +practical housewife--a gigantic task which she tackled with praiseworthy +zeal. She had already instituted several reforms in the household, and +her thrifty mind contemplated several more. Chris's attitude, which had +at first been one of indifference, had gradually developed into one of +passive resistance. She was, as a matter of fact, too preoccupied just +then to turn her attention to active opposition; but she did not pretend +to enjoy the tutelage thus ruthlessly pressed upon her. She had been +compelled to relinquish her readings with Bertrand, of whom she now saw +very little; for, though rigidly courteous at all times, he consistently +avoided Aunt Philippa whenever possible. She on her part treated him with +disdainful sufferance, much as she had treated Cinders in the old days. +She resented his presence, but endured it perforce. + +Under these circumstances it was not surprising that there should occur +moments of occasional friction between her niece and herself, especially +since, under the most favourable conditions, they had never yet managed +to discover a single point in common. + +This constant jarring in the background of the ceaseless anxiety that +consumed her night and day had worn Chris's nerves to a very thin edge, +and now that relief had come at last in the form of the letter she held +in her hand she was almost too spent to feel it. The tension had endured +for so long that it seemed impossible that it could have relaxed all in a +moment. She had received a roll of banknotes from her brother two days +before, but that had in a fashion but added to her fever of unrest. Now +that she knew them to be safe in the pocket of the blackguard for whom +they were intended, now surely was the time for peace to return. + +But had it? Standing there, still reading and re-reading those gibing +words, she asked herself dully if ever peace could return to her--the +thoughtless, happy peace of her childhood that she had valued so +lightly--the careless security of a mind at rest. Had it gone from her +for ever? Was that also buried among the rocks at Valpré? She +wondered--she wondered! + +There came a low knock at the door between her room and her husband's. +She started violently. He had been in town for a few hours. She had not +expected him back for another quarter of an hour at least. + +"Oh no," she called out quickly, "you can't come in!" + +Yet she stood as she was under the glaring light, the letter still +clutched stiffly in her hand, her eyes still staring widely at the +irregular, un-English writing. The letters seemed to writhe and squirm +into life before her distorted vision, to wriggle like a procession of +monstrous insects across the page. Were they insects or were they +reptiles? She asked herself the question dazedly. + +"Chris!" Her husband's voice came to her softly through the closed door. +"Let me come in for a moment. I have something to show you." + +"Wait!" she called back desperately. "Wait!" + +Yet it was as if iron chains were loaded upon her. She could speak, but +she could not move. Were they reptiles she was watching so intently? Or +stay! Were they crabs? They were certainly rather like the funny little +crabs that she and Cinders used to hunt for in the shallow pools of +Valpré. She gave a little laugh. Surely it was the sort of thing that +might have happened to Alice in Wonderland! + +And then quite suddenly her brain flashed back to understanding, to +vivid, appalling consciousness; and she knew that her husband was waiting +to enter, while she held in her hand the one thing which she would have +sacrificed her life sooner than let him see. The awfulness of the +realization spurred her back to action. Her limbs were free again, +though horribly--so horribly--unsteady. The letter seemed to burn her +fingers. She dropped it into the small drawer in which she kept her +trinkets, turned the key with feverish haste, and, withdrawing it, thrust +it down inside her dress. The cold steel sent a shiver to her very heart, +but it stilled the wild fever of her fear. When she turned from the +dressing-table she had nerved herself; she was calm. + +She crossed the room to the door at which Trevor stood waiting, and +quietly opened it. + +"How impatient you are!" she said, with a smile. + +For a woman who held her fate at bay it was admirably done; but for +Chris--little Chris of the sunny eyes and eager, impetuous actions--it +was so overwhelming a failure that Mordaunt, standing on the threshold, +made no movement to enter, but stood, and looked and looked, as though +he had never seen her before. + +She met the look as a duellist meets his opponent's blade, instantly but +warily, summoning all the craft of her newly awakened womanhood to her +aid. She was not conscious of agitation. Her heart felt as if it were +turned to stone; it did not seem to be beating at all. + +"Well," she said, as he did not speak, "have you got through your +business in town?" + +He did not answer her, but came straight forward into the room, took her +by the shoulders, and drew her round so that she faced the light. "What +have you been doing?" he said. + +She faced him unshrinking, undismayed. The Chris of a few hours before +would have drawn back in open fear from the piercing scrutiny of those +grey eyes, but this Chris was different. This Chris was a woman with pale +lips that smiled a baffling smile and eyes that barred the way to her +soul, a woman who had found in her womanhood a weapon of defence that no +man could thrust aside. + +"I haven't been doing anything," she said indifferently, "except run +round after Aunt Philippa--oh yes, and write up to town for some things I +wanted. Aunt Philippa is really going to leave us to-day week. I can't +think what we shall do without her, can you? Now tell me about your +doings." + +She lifted her face suddenly for his kiss, ignoring the fact that he was +still holding her as if for inquisition. + +He drew her sharply into his arms and held her fast. "You are very cold, +sweetheart," he said. + +She flushed a little at his action, though the lips he kissed were like +ice. "I am tired," she said. + +She expected him to set her free, but he did not. He held her closer +still. Not till afterwards did she realize that it was the first time he +had ever held her thus and she had not quivered like a frightened bird +against his breast. She was scarcely thinking of him now. She was as one +who stands before a scorching fire too rapt in reverie to feel the heat. + +Yet after a little he did succeed in infusing a certain degree of warmth +into her. Her arms went round his neck, though hardly of her own +volition, and her lips returned his kiss. But there was no spirit in her. +She leaned against him as if spent. + +"Are you quite well, dear?" he asked her tenderly. + +"Oh, quite! I am always well." She uttered a little tremulous laugh and +raised her head from his shoulder. "Trevor," she said, "I am afraid you +will think me very extravagant, but, do you know, I haven't any money to +go on with. I had a notice from the bank to-day to say my account was +overdrawn." + +Again it was not the Chris he knew who uttered the words. It was a woman +of the world to whom his passing displeasure had become a matter almost +of indifference. + +"Chris," he said abruptly, "what is the matter with you, child? Are you +bewitched?" + +That roused her. She suddenly realized that she was on dangerous ground, +that to blind him she must recall the child who had vanished so +inexplicably. And so for the first time she deliberately set herself to +deceive this man who till now had ever impelled her to a certain measure +of honesty. She did it with a sick heart--but she did it. + +She laid her hands on the front of his coat, grasping it nervously, +lifting pleading eyes to his. + +"No, I'm not bewitched. I'm only pretending not to be frightened. Trevor, +don't be vexed. I'm very sorry about it. Really I couldn't help it." + +"It's all right, dear," he said at once, and his hands closed instantly +and reassuringly upon hers. He smiled into her eyes. "It's very naughty, +of course, but I'm glad you have told me. How much do you want?" + +She hesitated momentarily. "I--I'm afraid rather a lot, Trevor." + +"How much?" he repeated; and then, as she still hesitated, his hold +tightened and his face grew grave. He looked straight down into her eyes. +"Chris," he said, "you haven't forgotten, have you, that it is against my +wish that you should let your brothers have money?" + +She met the look unflinching. "No, Trevor." + +He released her without further question. "Then you need not be afraid to +tell me how much." + +She made a little grimace. The part was getting easier to play. She was +beginning to feel almost natural. But the other woman--the woman of the +world who surely had never been Chris Wyndham--was still there in the +background watching the farce and smiling cynically. Chris was beginning +to be afraid of this new personality of hers. It was infinitely more +formidable than her husband had ever been. + +"How much, dear?" Mordaunt asked quietly. + +She started slightly. "Thirty pounds," she said. + +"Your account is overdrawn to that amount?" + +"Yes." She glanced at him nervously. "I am very sorry," she said again. + +He remained grave, but perfectly kind. "I will pay in fifty pounds +to-morrow," he said. "That will take you to the end of the month." + +"Oh, thank you, Trevor!" She threw him a quick smile of gratitude. "I +will pay you back as soon as ever I can." + +"No, it isn't a loan," he said. + +"Oh, don't give it me!" Impulsively she broke in upon his words. It was +growing strangely easy, this part she had to play. Or had she indeed been +bewitched for those few dreadful seconds? Was she in reality herself +again, the quick-hearted Chris he knew, and that other woman but a +phantom born of the horrible strain she had undergone? She told herself +that this was the true explanation, even while in her heart she knew +otherwise. + +"Don't give it me," she said again. "I would really rather you didn't." + +"Why?" he asked. + +She put out her hand to him with a little movement of entreaty. "I can't +explain. But--I would like to pay it back if you don't mind." + +He smiled at her persistence. "No, I don't mind, if you particularly wish +it. Now come into my room for a moment. I want to show you something." + +She went with him, her hand in his, not willingly but because she could +not do otherwise. + +He led her to the table, and pointed out a box upon it. "That is for you, +Chris." + +"For me!" She looked at him as if startled. "What is it, Trevor?" + +"Open it and see," he said. + +She hesitated. She seemed almost afraid. "I hope it isn't anything +very--very--" + +"Open it and see," he repeated. + +She obeyed him with hands that had begun to tremble, took out an +object wrapped in tissue-paper, unfolded the coverings, and disclosed a +jewel-case. + +Then again she hesitated, standing as one in doubt. "Trevor, I--I--" + +"Open it, dear," he said gently. + +And mutely she obeyed. + +Diamonds flashed before her dazzled eyes, a myriad sparkling colours shot +spinning through her brain. She stood gazing, gazing, as one beneath a +spell. For the passage of many seconds there was no sound in the room. + +Then with a sudden movement she closed the case. It shut with a sharp +snap, and she raised a haggard face. + +"Trevor, it's lovely--lovely! But I can't take it--anyhow, not yet--not +till I have paid you back." + +"My dear little wife, what nonsense!" he said. + +"No, no, it isn't! I am in earnest." Her voice quivered; she held out the +case to him beseechingly. "I can't take it--yet," she said. "I thank you +with all my heart. But I can't--I can't!" + +Her words ended upon a sudden sob; she laid the case down again among its +wrappings, and stood before him silent, with bent head. It was not easy +to refuse this gift of his, but for some reason to accept it was a +monstrous impossibility. He would not understand, of course, but +yet--whatever he thought--she could not take it. + +A long pause followed her last words. She shed no tears, but another sob +was struggling for utterance. She put her hand to her throat to strangle +it there. + +And then at last Mordaunt spoke. "Chris, have you been doing something +that you are afraid to tell me of?" + +She was silent. Silence was her only refuge now. + +He put his arm round her. "Because," he said very tenderly, "you needn't +be afraid, dear, Heaven knows." + +That pierced her unbearably. Woman though she was, she almost cried out +under the pain of it. + +She drew herself away from him. "Don't! please don't!" she said rather +breathlessly. "You--you must take things for granted sometimes. I can't +always be explaining my feelings. They won't stand it." + +She tried to laugh, but could not. Again desperately she pressed her hand +to her throat. How would he take it? She wondered. Would he regard it as +a mere childish whim? Or would he see that he was dealing with a woman, +and a desperate woman at that? + +She scarcely knew what she expected of him, but most assuredly she did +not anticipate his next move. + +Quite quietly he picked up the jewel-case, and re-entered her room. + +"It may as well go among your other treasures," he said. "You needn't +wear it--unless you wish--until you have paid me back." + +His tone was perfectly ordinary. She wondered what was in his mind, how +he regarded her behaviour, why he treated her thus; not guessing that he +had set himself resolutely, with infinite patience, to show her how small +was her cause for fear. + +He laid his hand upon the drawer that contained her trinkets, tried it, +turned round to her, faintly smiling. + +"May I have the key?" + +She had followed him in silence, and now she stood still, The key! The +key! It seemed to be searing her flesh, burning through to her very +heart. She suddenly felt as if all the Fates were arrayed against her. +Why--why--why had she chosen that drawer to guard her secret? Yet how +could she have foreseen this? A mist swam before her eyes. Her new-found +composure tottered. + +"I--have lost it," she murmured. + +"Lost it!" he echoed. + +"I mean--I mean--" She was stammering now in open confusion--"I must have +laid it down somewhere. I--I shall find it again, no doubt." + +He turned fully round and looked at her. She clasped her hands to still +her quivering nerves. This fresh ordeal was proving too much for her. + +"I can't help it," she said, with white lips. "I often mislay things. I +am careless, I know. But I always find them again sooner or later. I will +have a look for it while you are dressing." + +Her words ran on almost meaninglessly. She was speaking for the sake of +speaking, because silence would have been too terrible to be borne, +because if she had ceased to speak she must have screamed. Even as it +was, the fact that her husband said nothing whatever was driving her +almost to distraction. + +Suddenly she realized that he was waiting for her to stop, that her words +were making no impression, that he was not so much as listening to them, +his attention being focussed upon her and her alone. + +She broke off in desperation. She met his steady eyes. "Don't you--don't +you believe me, Trevor?" + +He did not instantly reply. For one dreadful moment she thought that he +was going to answer in the negative. And then very deliberately he +declined her direct challenge. + +"I think," he said quietly, "that you don't know what you are saying." + +And with that he went slowly back to his own room, taking the jewel-case +with him. The door closed softly and she was left alone. + +For many seconds thereafter Chris made no movement of any sort. It was as +if she were afraid to stir. Her eyes were wide, gazing straight before +her, as though fascinated by some scene of terror. + +She moved at last stiffly, went to the window, drew a long, deep breath. +She asked herself no questions of any sort. There was no need. For the +first time in her life she was face to face with her own soul, beyond all +possibility of self-deception. + +The child Chris was gone for ever, the woman Chris remained, a woman with +a tragic secret that must never be revealed. She knew now why she had +fought so desperately to keep that episode of Valpré from her husband's +knowledge. She only marvelled that the reason had never come home to her +before. She knew now why she had always shrunk inwardly from the +searching of his eyes. She had always dreaded that he might see too much, +even that same secret of which she herself must have been vaguely +conscious for years. + +It was all clear to her now, so clear that she could never shut her eyes +to it again. All her life long she must carry it in her heart, and no one +must ever know. Sleeping and waking, she must keep it safely hidden. She +must go on living a lie all her life, all her life. + +She flung out her arms with a sudden gesture of fierce rebellion. Oh, why +had she married? Why? Why? Why? Had she not always known in her heart +that she was making a terrible, an irrevocable, mistake? How was it she +had been so blind? Why had there been no one to warn her of the snare +into which she was walking? Why had no hand held her back? + +Trevor himself--but no, Trevor did not so much as know that she had left +her childhood behind her yet. He was still wondering what childish +peccadillo was troubling her, keeping her from accepting his gift. At +least, he was very far from suspecting her actual reason; nor must he +ever suspect. + +Never, as long as they lived, must he know that she had refused the first +thing of value that he had offered her since their wedding because in an +instant of overwhelming revelation she had just recognized the fact that +she loved--had loved for years--another man. + + + + +PART III + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WAR + + +Two days before that on which Aunt Philippa had decided to take her +departure Mordaunt went again to town. Noel, whose holidays were drawing +to a close, accompanied him to the station in a state of high jubilation, +albeit Holmes was in charge of the motor and there was not the faintest +chance of his being allowed to take the wheel. + +"I hope you're going to behave yourself," were Mordaunt's last words. + +And the youngster's cheery grin and impudent "You bet, old chap!" ought +to have warned him not to hope for behaviour too exemplary. + +Noel, in fact, had been anticipating his brother-in-law's departure with +considerable eagerness. Though he liked him thoroughly, he was an +undoubted check upon his enjoyment. He kept him within bounds after a +fashion which had at first amused but had of late begun somewhat to pall +upon him; and Noel was only awaiting a suitable opportunity to kick over +the traces and gallop free. On this occasion Mordaunt had decided to +spend the night in town, so circumstances were propitious. + +As for Mordaunt, he had dismissed Noel from his mind almost before the +train was out of the station. But for her aunt's presence, he would have +persuaded Chris to go with him, even though he knew that she had not the +smallest wish to do so. He was growing very anxious with regard to her, +and he was firmly determined that she should have a change of scene as +soon as Noel's holidays and Aunt Philippa's protracted stay came to an +end. It was not that she seemed ill, but she was very far from being +herself, and there were times when he even fancied that she simulated +gaiety for the deliberate purpose of deceiving him. He knew, too, that +her sleep was often broken and troubled, but he never commented upon +this; she was so plainly averse to any criticism from him or anyone. A +shrewd suspicion had begun to take root in Mordaunt's mind to account for +this unwonted reticence; and because of it he treated her with the utmost +patience and consideration, asking no question, giving no sign that he so +much as noticed the change in her. He invariably turned from any subject +she seemed to find distasteful. If she seemed unusually nervous or +unreasonable, he passed it over, bearing with her with a tenderness that +sometimes moved her in secret to passionate tears the while she asked +herself what she had ever done that he should love her so. + +For if she had ever doubted the quality of his love, she could not do so +now. It surrounded her whichever way she turned, asking nothing of her, +never intruding upon her, content simply to shelter her. And though the +very fact of it hurt her, it comforted her subtly as well, lulling her +fear of him, giving her a certain measure of confidence. + +Of Bertrand, in those days, she saw less and less. In the first shock of +realization she had instinctively avoided him, possessed by a haunting +dread that he might guess her secret. But upon this point she was very +soon reassured. The consistent and unwavering friendliness of his +attitude quieted her misgivings, and nerved her to treat him, if with +less intimacy, at least without visible awkwardness. Whether he noticed +her avoidance or not she did not know, but he certainly seemed to be +withdrawing himself more and more out of her life. His work with her +husband apparently occupied all his thoughts, and then there was Aunt +Philippa also to keep him at a distance. How it would be when her aunt +departed Chris had no notion, but she was looking forward to that event +with an eagerness almost feverish. All her natural sweetness +notwithstanding, there were occasions upon which she actively disliked +this domineering relative of hers. Aunt Philippa, on her part, who had +never taken so much trouble with her niece before, openly marvelled at +her intractability, which even the fact that Chris was one of those +headstrong Wyndhams did not, in her opinion, wholly justify. No open +rupture had occurred, but a very decided animosity had begun to smoulder +between them, which a very little provocation might at any moment fan +into open hostility. + +Chris was leaning against a pillar of the porch when her brother +returned. There was very decided dejection in her attitude. + +"Cheer up!" Noel exhorted her, as he sprang from the car. "I've got a +ripping plan." + +He came and twined his arm in hers, and Chris smiled with a hint of +wistfulness. She felt as if she had left Noel and his boyish pleasures +very far behind of late. + +"What do you want to do?" she said. + +"Come into the gun-room and I'll tell you." Noel was all eagerness. +"Coast clear?" he questioned. "Where's Aunt Phil?" + +"Waiting for me to go and help her find fault with the gardeners." Chris +was still smiling a little, but there was not much humour in her voice. + +"Oh, rats! Don't go!" said Noel. "Come along into the gun-room, and help +me make some fireworks. It will be much more fun." + +A spark of the old ardour kindled in Chris's eyes. "Oh, are you going to +make fireworks?" she said. "Have you got the ingredients?" + +He nodded. "Nearly all. Come and see. What we haven't got we must +manufacture. I know where there are plenty of cartridges." + +Chris yielded to the eager pulling of his arm. "I suppose Trevor wouldn't +mind for once," she said. She had grown unaccountably scrupulous in this +respect. + +But Noel jeered at the notion. "Who cares? It'll be all over long +before he comes home to-morrow. We will have a regular jollification +to-night. You and I will run the show, and Aunt Phil and Bertrand can +look on and admire. I say, Chris, I've got a ripping receipt for +Catherine wheels--not the big ones, those little things you hold and buzz +round. You know!" + +His enthusiasm was infectious. It drew her almost in spite of herself. +Besides, it meant a temporary respite from the continual burden that +weighed her down, and brief though it must be, she could not bring +herself to refuse it. She went with him, therefore, with the feeling of +one who has signed a truce with the enemy, and in a couple of minutes +they were securely closeted in the gun-room, with the door locked against +all intruders, and all thoughts of Aunt Philippa and any other troublous +problems as resolutely excluded from their minds. + +The hours of the morning literally flew. Luncheon-time found them +absorbed in a most critical process. + +"Bust lunch!" said Noel. "We can't possibly leave this now." + +But Chris's sense of duty proved too strong for her inclination at this +juncture, and she sallied forth from their retreat to rescue Bertrand +from a _tête-à-tête_ meal with her aunt. + +There was a sparkle of merriment in her eyes when she entered the +dining-room. The engrossing work of the morning had done her good. She +was fully five minutes late, and Bertrand, who had presented himself +sharp on the hour with military punctuality, was waiting by the window. + +He came swiftly to meet her. She had not seen him before that day. + +"You are looking well this morning," he said, in his quick, friendly way. +"You have been busy, yes?" + +His soft eyes interrogated her, as for an instant he held her hand. Never +once had she found those eyes impossible to meet. They held the fidelity +of unswerving friendship. + +"Oh yes," she said, "busy in a fashion--a very childish fashion, Bertie. +Noel and I are making fireworks!" + +"Fireworks!" he echoed. + +"Yes, we are going to have a grand display tonight. Will you come and +look on?" + +He smiled. "But yes," he said. "I think that I will come and take care of +you." + +She nodded. "Do! But they are not dangerous, not very. Where is Aunt +Philippa?" + +He spread out his hands whimsically. "She has not given me her +confidence." + +Chris laughed. Actually she was feeling almost lighthearted. Till that +moment she had had a morbid dread of being alone with him, and now behold +her dread vanishing in mirth! Surely she had been very foolish, like a +child frightened at shadows! + +"I wonder where she is," she said. "I am afraid I have been playing +truant this morning. I shall have to apologize, though it was all Noel's +fault. Do see if you can find Mrs. Forest," she added to a servant just +entering. "Ask her if she is ready for luncheon." + +"Mrs. Forest is out in the motor, and has not yet returned," was the +information this elicited. + +"How odd!" said Chris. "What had we better do?" + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders, still looking quizzical. "We must not +lunch without her, _bien sûr_. Let us go into the garden." + +They went into the garden, and walked for a space in the September +sunshine. + +They talked at first upon commonplace topics, and Chris was wholly at her +ease. But presently Bertrand turned the conversation with an abrupt +question. + +"Christine, tell me, you have never seen that scoundrel Rodolphe again?" + +She started a little, and was conscious that she changed colour, but she +answered him instantly. "No, never. But--why do you ask?" + +Very gravely he made reply. "I have feared lately that there was +something that troubled you. I was wrong, yes?" + +He looked at her anxiously. + +She did not answer him, she could not. + +"_Eh bien_," he said gently, after a moment. "It was not that. You have +heard that he has been recalled to France--that there is a rumour that +there have been revelations that may lead to a court-martial?" + +"No!" said Chris in amazement. "Do you mean--" + +He bent his head. "It is possible." + +"That you may be vindicated?" she questioned eagerly. "Oh, Bertie!" + +"It is possible," he repeated. "Yet I will not permit myself to hope. It +is no more than a rumour. It is also possible that it may not even touch +the old _affaire_, since he made no appearance at my trial." + +"But if it did!" said Chris. + +He gave her an odd look. "If it did, Christine?" he questioned. + +"You would go back with flying colours," she said. "You would be +reinstated surely!" + +He shook his head. "I do not think it." + +"You mean you wouldn't go?" she asked. + +He turned his face up to the sun with a peculiar gesture. "Who can say?" +he said, with closed eyes. "Me, I think that the good God has other plans +for me. I may be justified--I do not know. But I shall wear the uniform +of the French Army--never again." + +He spoke perfectly calmly, with absolute conviction; but there was that +in his face that startled her, something she had never seen before. + +She put out a hesitating hand, and touched his sleeve. "Bertie!" + +Instantly he looked at her, saw the scared expression in her eyes, and, +smiling, pressed her hand. + +"_Mais_, Christine, these things--what are they? Ambition, success, +honour--loss, failure, shame; they seem so great in this little life of +mortality. But, after all, they are no more than the tools with which the +good God shapes us to His destiny. He uses them, and when His work is +done He throws them aside. We leave them behind us; we pass on to that +which is greater." He paused a moment, and his eyes kindled as though he +were on the verge of something further; then suddenly they went beyond +her, and he relinquished her hand. "Madame has returned," he said. "Let +us go!" + +Looking up, Chris saw Aunt Philippa upon the terrace above them. + +The expression on her relative's face was one of severe and undisguised +disapproval, as her gaze rested upon the two in the garden. Chris, as she +moved to meet her, felt a sudden flame of indignation at her heart. How +dared Aunt Philippa look at them so? + +"We have been waiting for you," she said, speaking in some haste to +conceal her resentment. "Has anything happened?" + +Aunt Philippa replied in the measured accents habitual to her. "Nothing +has happened. I have been to Sandacre Court, at Mrs. Pouncefort's +invitation, to see the gardens. I waited for you, Chris, for nearly an +hour this morning, but you did not see fit either to come to me or to +send any word of explanation to account for your absence. Therefore I +started late. Hence my late return." + +Chris coloured. "I am sorry, Aunt Philippa. Noel wanted me. I am afraid I +forgot you were waiting." + +"It seems to me," said Aunt Philippa, with cutting emphasis, "that you +are apt to forget every obligation when in Mr. Bertrand's society." + +"Aunt Philippa!" + +Furious indignation rang in Chris's voice. In a second--in less--it would +have been open war, but swift as an arrow Bertrand intervened. + +"Ah! but pardon me," he said, in his soft voice. "I am not responsible +for Mrs. Mordaunt's negligence. She has been occupied with her affairs, +and I with mine. Had she been in my society"--he smiled with a flash of +the teeth--"she would not have forgotten her duties so easily. I am an +excellent monitor, madame. Acquit me, I beg, of being accessory to the +crime, and accept my sympathies the most sincere." + +Aunt Philippa ignored them in icy silence, but he had accomplished his +end. The evil moment was averted. Whatever Chris might have to endure +later, at least she would be spared the added mortification of his +presence during the infliction. Airily he turned the subject. He could +overlook a snub more adroitly than Aunt Philippa could administer one. + +They went into the house, and during the meal that followed Bertrand made +himself gracefully agreeable to both ladies. So delicate were his +attentions that Chris found herself more than once on the verge of +hysterical laughter. + +But when he left them at length, with many apologies, to resume his +interrupted labours, her sense of humour ceased to vibrate. Never before +had she desired her husband's presence as she desired it then. + +Her hope that Aunt Philippa might retire to her room to rest was a very +slender one, and destined almost from the outset to disappointment. Aunt +Philippa was on the war trail, and she would not rest until she had +tracked down her quarry. + +She began at once to speak of her morning's visit to Mrs. Pouncefort, +whom she knew as a London hostess. Personally, she disapproved of her, +but she could not afford to pass her over, since her status in society +was by no means inconsiderable, being, in fact, almost capable of +rivalling her own. + +"I should have remained to luncheon," she said, "but for the fact that +you were here quite unchaperoned. Had you accompanied me, as I had hoped +you would, I should not have had to hasten back in the heat." + +"But I wasn't invited," said Chris, "and I know every inch of those +gardens. I knew them long ago, before the Pounceforts came." + +"The invitation," said Aunt Philippa, not to be diverted from her +purpose, "was quite casual. You could quite well have accompanied me. In +fact, I think Mrs. Pouncefort was surprised not to see you. However, we +need not discuss that further. Doubtless you had your own reasons for +desiring to remain at home, and I shall not ask you what those reasons +were. What I do ask, and what I think I have a right to know, is whether +you have had the proper feeling to tell your husband that the Captain +Rodolphe you met at Pouncefort Court a little while ago is the man with +whom you were so deplorably intimate at Valpré in your girlhood, or +whether you have had the audacity to pretend that he was a total stranger +to you." + +Chris almost gasped at this unexpected attack, but its directness +compelled an instant reply without pausing to consider the position. + +"I was never intimate with Captain Rodolphe," she said quickly. "I never +spoke to him before the other day." + +And there she stopped suddenly short, arrested by the look of open +incredulity with which her aunt received her hasty statement. + +There was a moment's silence. Then, "Really!" said Aunt Philippa. "He +gave Mrs. Pouncefort to understand otherwise." + +Chris felt the blood rush to her face. This was intolerable. "What did he +give Mrs. Pouncefort to understand?" she demanded. + +"Merely that you were old friends," said Aunt Philippa, with the calm +superiority of one not to be shaken in her belief. + +"Then he lied!" said Chris fiercely. + +Aunt Philippa said "Indeed!" with raised eyebrows. + +Chris's hands clenched unconsciously. "He lied!" she repeated. "We are +not friends! We never could be! I--I hate the man!" + +"Then you know him well enough for that?" said Aunt Philippa. + +Chris sprang to her feet with hot cheeks and blazing eyes. "Aunt +Philippa, you have no right--you and Mrs. Pouncefort--to--to talk me over +and discuss my acquaintances!" + +"My dear child," said Aunt Philippa, "all that passed between us was a +remark made by Mrs. Pouncefort to the effect that one of her guests, +Captain Rodolphe--an old friend of yours whom she believed you had +originally met at Valpré--had just returned to Paris. What led to the +remark I do not remember. But naturally the name recalled certain +regrettable circumstances to my mind, and I felt it my duty to ask if you +had been quite candid with Trevor upon the subject. I am sincerely +grieved to know that my suspicion in this respect was but too well +founded." + +"He was not the man I knew at Valpré" burst forth Chris, with passionate +vehemence. "You may believe it or not; it is the truth!" + +"Then, my dear," said Aunt Philippa, with the calmness of unalterable +conviction, "there must have been two men who enjoyed that privilege." + +Chris broke into a wild laugh--a laugh that had been struggling for +utterance for the past hour. + +"Two! Why, there were a dozen at least, some soldiers, some fishermen! +Ask Trevor! He can tell you all about them--if he thinks it worth while!" + +"And yet you have not mentioned Captain Rodolphe to him?" said Aunt +Philippa. Her eyes were fixed unsparingly upon the girl's face, and she +saw the colour dying away as swiftly as it had risen. "That is strange," +she remarked, with emphasis. + +"It is not strange!" flashed back Chris. The laugh had gone from her +lips, leaving them white, but she faced her adversary unflinchingly. It +was open war now--a fierce and bitter struggle for the mastery, for which +she knew herself to be ill-equipped, but in which she must fight to the +last. She knew that Aunt Philippa had always regarded her with cold +dislike, and it dawned upon her in that moment that now--now that her +position was assured, now that she was rich and popular and the wife of a +man who was universally honoured in that great world of society in which +her aunt had always striven for a leading place--the dislike had turned +to a cruel jealousy that demanded her downfall. And she was horribly at +her mercy; deep in her heart she knew that also, but she would not own +it, even to herself. Aunt Philippa had not yet unmasked the truth. Until +she succeeded in doing so, all was not lost. + +"It is not strange," she repeated, and this time she spoke quietly, +summoning all her strength to the unequal contest. "Captain Rodolphe was +not of sufficient importance to mention to Trevor. Besides--" + +"Although you hate him so bitterly!" Aunt Philippa reminded her. + +Chris pressed on, ignoring the thrust. "Besides, Trevor does not need, +does not so much as wish to be told of every little incident that ever +happened in my life. He prefers to trust me." + +"And have you never abused his confidence?" asked Aunt Philippa. + +It was inevitable. She flinched ever so slightly, but she covered it with +instant defiance. "What do you mean, Aunt Philippa?" + +Aunt Philippa made no direct reply. She knew the value of insinuation in +such a battle as this. "Ask yourself that question," she said +impressively. + +It might have provided a way of escape, at least temporarily, but Chris +was too far goaded to see it. "Tell me what you mean," she said. + +Aunt Philippa's thin lips smiled ironically. "My dear, are you really so +blind, or is deceit the very air you breathe? Can you look me in the face +and assure me that nothing has ever passed between you and your husband's +secretary of which you would not wish him to know?" + +That went home, straight to her quivering heart. For a moment the pain of +it held her dumb. Then, with a gasp, she turned from the pitiless eyes +that watched her. + +"Oh, how dare you, Aunt Philippa! How dare you!" she cried in impotence. + +"I trust that I am not afraid to do my duty," said Aunt Philippa, very +gravely. + +But Chris had already turned, completely routed, and fled from the scene +of her defeat; nor did she pause until she had reached her haven at the +top of the house, where, like a wounded bird, she crouched down in +solitude and so remained for a long, long time. + +Not till the afternoon was far advanced did any measure of comfort come +to her stricken soul, and then at last she remembered that, after all, +she was comparatively safe. Her husband's trust was still hers, implicit +and unwavering, and she knew that he would not so much as notice a single +hint from Aunt Philippa, however adroitly offered. That was her one and +only safeguard, and as she realized it the bitterness of her heart gave +place to a sudden burst of anguished shame. What had she ever done to +deserve the generous, unquestioning trust he thus reposed in her? +Nothing--less than nothing! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FIREWORKS + + +When Chris emerged from her seclusion, she found that her aunt had +decided to suspend hostilities, and to treat her with the majestic +condescension of the conqueror. It was something of a relief, for Chris +was not fashioned upon fighting lines, and long-sustained animosity was +beyond her. She was thankful for Noel's plans for the evening's +entertainment as a topic of conversation, even though Aunt Philippa +openly disapproved of the enterprise. She had begun feverishly to count +the hours to her aunt's departure. She would not feel really safe, +reassure herself how she might, until she was finally gone. + +It was not until after dinner that Noel emerged from his lair in the +gun-room and announced everything to be in readiness. He called Chris out +on to the terrace to assist him, and Aunt Philippa and Bertrand were +left--an ill-assorted couple--to watch and admire the result of his +efforts. Aunt Philippa invariably maintained a demeanour of haughty +reserve if she found herself alone with her host's French secretary, an +attitude in which he as invariably acquiesced with an impenetrable +silence which she resented without knowing why. He was always courteous, +but he never tried to be agreeable to her, and this also Aunt Philippa +resented, though she would have mercilessly snubbed any efforts in that +direction had he exerted himself to make them. + +The night was dark and still, an ideal night for fireworks. Noel began +with the failures which he had not the heart to waste. He was keeping the +choicest of his collection till the last. Consequently there were a good +many crackling explosions on the ground with nothing but a few sparks to +compensate for the noise, and Aunt Philippa very speedily tired of the +din. + +"This is childish as well as dangerous," she said. "I shall go to the +library. There will at least be peace and quietness there." + +"Without doubt," said Bertrand. + +He accompanied her thither with a polite regard for her comfort for which +he received no gratitude, and then returned to smoke his cigarette in +comfort by the open French window that overlooked the terrace. + +A ruddy glare lit up the scene as he took up his stand. The failures were +apparently exhausted, and Noel had begun upon the masterpieces. Chris's +quick laugh came to him, as he stood there watching. Yet he frowned a +little to himself as he heard it, missing the gay, spontaneous, childish +ring that he had been wont to hear. What had come to her of late? Was it +true that she had told him on the night of Cinders' death? Was she indeed +grown-up? If so--he changed his position slightly, trying to catch a +glimpse of her in the fitful glare of one of Noel's Roman candles--had +the time come for him to go? He had always faced the fact that she would +not need him when her childhood was left behind. And certainly of late +she had not seemed to need him. She had even--he fancied--avoided him at +times. He wondered wherefore. Could it have been at her aunt's +instigation? Surely not. She was too staunch for that. + +There remained another possibility, and, after a little, reluctantly, +with clenched teeth, he faced it. Had she by some means discovered that +which he had so studiously hidden from her all this time? He cast his +mind back. Had he ever inadvertently betrayed himself? He knew he had +not. Never since her marriage had he given the faintest sign; no, not +even on that fateful afternoon when she had clung to him in anguish of +soul and he had held her fast pressed against his heart. He had been +strictly honourable, resolutely loyal, all through. He had always held +himself in check. He had never forgotten, never relaxed his vigilance, +never once been other than faithful, even in thought, to the friend who +trusted him. Yet--Max's words recurred to him, piercing him as with a +stab of physical pain--without doubt women had a genius _incroyable_ for +discovering secrets. And if Chris were indeed a woman--was it not +possible-- + +Again her laugh broke in upon his thoughts, and he turned swiftly in the +direction whence it came. She was standing not more than a dozen yards +from him, a red whirl of fire all about her, in her hand a whizzing, +spitting-aureole of flame. The light flared upwards on her face and +gleaming hair. She looked like some fire-goddess, exulting over the +radiant element she had created. And, like a sword-thrust to his heart, +there went through him the memory of her standing poised like a bird on +the prow of a boat. Just so had she stood then; just so, goddess-like, +had she exulted in the morning sunshine and the sparkling water; just so +had her bare arms shone on the day that first he had consciously +worshipped her, on the day that she had told him of her desire to find +out all the secrets that there were. Ah! how much had she found out since +then--his bird of Paradise with the restless, ever-fluttering wings? How +much? How much? + +A sudden cry banished his speculations--a cry uttered by her voice, sharp +with dismay. "Oh, Noel! My sleeve!" + +Before the words were past her lips Bertrand had leaped forth to the +rescue. He traversed the distance between them as a meteor hurling +through space. But even so, ere he reached her, the filmy lace that hung +down from her elbow had blazed into flame. She had dropped the firework, +and it lay hissing on the ground like a glittering snake. He sprang over +it and caught her in his arms. + +She cried out again as he crushed her to him, cried out, and tried to +push him from her; but he held her fast, gripping the flaming material +with his naked hands, rending it, and gripping afresh. Something white +which neither noticed fluttered upon the ground between them. It must +have actually passed through that frantic grip. It lay unheeded, while +Bertrand beat out the last spark and ripped the last charred rag away +from the soft arm. + +"You are hurt, no?" he queried rather breathlessly. + +"You, Bertie! What of you?" she cried hysterically, clinging to him. +"Your hands--let me see them!" + +"By Jove, that was a near thing!" ejaculated Noel, who had followed close +upon Bertrand's heels. "I thought you were done for that time, Chris. How +on earth did you manage it? You must have been jolly careless." + +Chris did not attempt to answer. Now that the emergency had passed, she +was hanging upon Bertrand almost in a state of collapse. + +"Let us go in," the latter said gently. + +"Yes, run along," said Noel, who had a wholesome dread of hysterics. +"Don't be silly, Chris; there's no harm done. But if it hadn't been for +this chap here you'd have been in flames in another second. I +congratulate you, Bertrand, on your presence of mind. Not hurt yourself, +I suppose?" + +"I am not hurt," the Frenchman answered; but his words sounded as if +speech were an effort to him, almost as if he spoke them through clenched +teeth. + +Chris straightened herself swiftly. "Yes, let us go in," she said. + +She leaned upon Bertrand no longer, but she still held his arm. As they +entered the drawing-room alone together, she turned and looked at him. + +"Ah! I knew you were hurt," she said quickly. "Sit down, Bertie. Here is +a chair." + +He sank down blindly, his face like death; he had begun to gasp for +breath. His hand groped desperately towards an inner pocket, but fell +powerless before reaching it. + +"Let me!" whispered Chris. + +She bent over him, and slipped her own trembling hand inside his coat. +Her fingers touched something hard, and she drew out a small bottle. + +"Is it this?" she said. + +His lips moved in the affirmative. She removed the stopper and shook out +some capsules. + +"_Deux_!" whispered Bertrand. + +She put them into his mouth and waited. Great drops had started on his +forehead, and now began to roll slowly down his drawn face. She took his +handkerchief after a little to wipe them away, but almost immediately he +reached up with a quivering smile and took it from her. + +"I am better," he said, and though his voice was husky he had it under +control. "You will pardon me for giving you this trouble. It was only--a +passing weakness." + +He mopped his forehead, and leaned slowly forward, moving with caution. + +"But you are ill! You are in pain!" Chris exclaimed. + +"No," he said. "No, I have no pain. I am better. I am quite well." + +Again he looked up at her, smiling. "But how I have alarmed you!" he said +regretfully. "And your arm, _petite_? It is not burnt--not at all?" + +He took her hand gently, and put back the tattered sleeve to satisfy +himself on this point. + +Chris said nothing. Her lips had begun to tremble. But she winced a +little when he touched a place inside her arm where the flame had +scorched her. + +He glanced up sharply. "Ah! that hurts you, that?" + +"No," she said, "no. It is nothing." And then, with sudden passion: +"Bertie, what does a little scorch like that matter when you--when +you--" She broke off, fighting with herself, and pointed a shaking finger +at his wrist. + +It had been blistered by the flame, and his shirt-cuff was charred; but +the injury was slight, remarkably so in consideration of the utter +recklessness he had displayed. + +He snapped his fingers with easy indifference. "Ah, bah! It is a +_bagatelle_, that. In one week it will be gone. And now--why, _chérie_--" + +He stopped abruptly. She had dropped upon her knees beside him, her hands +upon his shoulders, her face, tragic in its pain, upturned to his. + +"Bertie, why do you try to hide things from me? Do you think I am quite +blind? You are ill. I know you are ill. What is it, dear? Won't you tell +me?" + +He made a quick gesture as if he would check either her words or her +touch, and then suddenly he stiffened. For in that instant there ran +between them once again, vital, electric, unquenchable, that Flame that +had kindled long ago on a morning of perfect summer, that Flame which +once kindled burns on for ever. + +It happened all in a moment, so swiftly that they were caught unawares in +the spell of it, so overwhelmingly that neither for the space of several +throbbing seconds possessed the volition to draw back. And in the deep +silence the man's eyes held the woman's irresistibly, yet by no conscious +effort, while each entered the other's soul and gazed upon the one +supreme secret which each had mutely sheltered there. + +It was to the man that full realization first came--a realization more +overwhelming than anything that had gone before, striking him with a +stunning force that shattered every other emotion like a bursting shell +spreading destruction. + +He came out of that trance-like stillness with a gesture of horror, as if +freeing himself from some evil thing that had wound itself about him +unawares. + +Her hands fell away from his shoulders instantly. She was white to +the lips. She even for one incredible moment--the only moment in her +life--shrank from him. But that impulse vanished as swiftly as it came, +vanished in a rush of passionate understanding. For with a groan Bertrand +sank forward and bowed his head in his hands. + +"_Mon Dieu_!" he said. "What have I done?" + +She responded as it were instinctively, not pausing to choose her words, +speaking in a quick, vehement whisper, because his distress was more than +she could bear. + +"It is none of your doing, Bertie. You are not to say it--not to think it +even. It happened long, long ago. You know it did. It happened--it +happened--that day at Valpré--the day you--took me into your boat." + +He groaned again, his head dropping lower. She knew that also! Then was +she woman indeed! + +There followed a silence during which Chris remained kneeling beside him, +but she was no longer agitated. She was strangely calm. A new strength +seemed to have been given her to cope with this pressing need. When at +last she moved, it was to lay a hand that was quite steady upon his knee. + +"Bertie," she said, "listen! You have done nothing wrong. You have +nothing to reproach yourself with. It wasn't your fault that I took so +long to grow up." A piteous little smile touched her lips, and was gone. +"You have been very good to me," she said. "I won't have you blame +yourself. No woman ever had a truer friend." + +He laid his hand upon hers, but he kept his eyes covered. She could only +see the painful twitching of his mouth under the slight moustache. + +"Ah, Christine," he said at last, with an effort, "I have tried--I have +tried--to be faithful." + +"And you have never been anything else," she said very earnestly. "You +were my _preux chevalier_ from the very beginning, and you have done more +for me than you will ever know. Bertie, Bertie"--her voice thrilled +suddenly--"though it's all so hopeless, do you think it isn't easier for +me now that I know? Do you think I would have it otherwise if I could?" + +His hand closed tightly upon hers with a quick, restraining pressure. He +could not answer her. + +For some seconds he did not speak at all. At length, "Then--you trust me +still, Christine?" he said, his voice very low. + +Her reply was instant and unfaltering. "I shall trust you as long as I +live." + +He was silent again for a space. Then suddenly he uncovered his face and +looked at her. Again their eyes met, with the perfect intimacy of a +perfect understanding. + +"_Eh bien_," Bertrand said, speaking slowly and heavily, as one labouring +under an immense burden, "I will be worthy of your confidence. You are +right, little comrade. We have travelled too far together--you and I--to +fear to strike upon the rocks now." + +He paused a moment, then quietly rose, drawing her to her feet. So for a +while he stood, her hands clasped in his, seeming still upon the verge of +speech, but finding no words. His eyes smiled sadly upon her, as the eyes +of a friend saying good-bye. At last he stooped, and reverently as though +he sealed an oath thereby, he pressed his lips upon the hands he held. + +An instant later he straightened himself, and in unbroken silence turned +and left her. + +It was one of the simplest tragedies ever played on the world's stage. +They had found each other--too late, and there was nothing more to be +said. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE TURN OF THE TIDE + + +It was evening when Mordaunt returned on the following day. He was met at +the station by Noel. Holmes was in charge of the motor, and greeted his +master with obvious relief. The care of the youngest Wyndham was plainly +a responsibility he did not care to shoulder for long. + +"All well?" Mordaunt asked, as he emerged from the station with his young +brother-in-law hooked effusively on his arm. + +"All well, sir," said Holmes, with the air of a sentry relaxing after +long and arduous duty. + +"Flourishing," said Noel, "though it's the greatest wonder you haven't +come back to find Chris a heap of ashes. She would have been if Bertrand +hadn't--at great personal risk--put her out." + +"What has happened?" demanded Mordaunt sharply. + +"All's well, sir," said Holmes reassuringly. + +"Fireworks!" explained Noel. "My word, I made some beauties! I wish you +could have seen 'em. I got singed a bit myself. But, then, that's only +what one would expect playing with fire, eh, Trevor?" He rubbed his cheek +ingratiatingly against Mordaunt's shoulder. "You needn't be anxious. +Chris was really none the worse. But the Frenchman had a bad attack of +blue funk when the danger was over, and nearly fainted. He's feeling +ashamed of himself apparently, for I haven't seen him since. By the way, +Aunt Phil and Chris had a mill yesterday, and the old lady is suffering +from a very stiff neck in consequence. I asked Chris what she did to it, +but she wouldn't tell me. Thank the gods, she goes to-morrow! You'll let +me drive her to the station, won't you? I should like to go to heaven in +Aunt Phil's company. She would be sure to get into the smartest set at +once." + +He rattled on in the same cheery strain without intermission throughout +the return journey, having imparted enough to make Mordaunt thoroughly +uneasy, notwithstanding Holmes's assurance. + +The first person he met upon entering the house was Aunt Philippa. She +accorded him a glacial reception, and explained that Chris had retired to +bed with a severe headache. + +"It's come on very suddenly," remarked Noel, with frank incredulity. +"Where's Bertrand? Has he got a headache too?" + +Aunt Philippa had no information to offer with regard to the French +secretary! She merely observed that she had given orders for dinner +to be served in a quarter of an hour, and therewith swept away to the +drawing-room. + +Mordaunt shook off his young brother-in-law without ceremony, and went +straight up to his wife's room. + +His low knock elicited no reply, and he opened the door softly and +entered. + +The room was in semi-darkness, but Chris's voice accosted him instantly. + +"Is that you, Trevor? I'm here, lying down. I had rather a headache, or I +would have come to meet you." + +Her words were rapid and sounded feverish, as though she were braced for +some ordeal. She was lying with her back to the curtained windows and her +face in shadow. + +Mordaunt went forward with light tread to the bed. "Poor child!" he said +gently. + +He stooped and kissed her, and found that she was trembling. Quietly he +took her hand into his, and began to feel her pulse. + +She made a nervous movement to frustrate him, but he gently insisted and +she became passive. + +"There is nothing serious the matter," she said uneasily. "I--I didn't +sleep very well last night, that's all. I thought you wouldn't mind if I +didn't come to meet you." + +Mordaunt, with the tell-tale, fluttering pulse under his fingers, made +gentle reply. "Of course not, dear. I think you are quite right to take +care of yourself. Is your head very bad?" + +"No, not now. I think I'm just tired. I shall be all right after a +night's rest." + +Again she tried to slip her hand out of his grasp, and after a moment he +let it go. + +"Please don't worry about me," she said. "You won't, will you?" + +"Not if there is really no reason for it," he said. + +She stirred restlessly. "There isn't--indeed. Aunt Philippa will tell you +that. I was letting off fireworks with Noel only last night." + +"And set fire to yourself," said Mordaunt. + +She started a little. "Who told you that?" + +"Noel." + +"Oh! Well, nothing happened, thanks to--to Bertie. He put it out for me." + +"I think there had better not be any more fireworks unless I am there," +Mordaunt said. "I don't like to think of my wife running risks of that +sort." + +"Very well, Trevor," she said meekly. + +"Where did the fireworks come from?" he pursued. + +"We made them--Noel and I. We used some of your cartridges for gunpowder. +He got saltpetre and one or two other things from the chemist. They were +quite a success," said Chris, with a touch of her old light gaiety. + +"And you are paying for it to-day," he said. "It will be a good thing +when Noel goes back to school." + +"Oh no," she answered quickly. "It wasn't the fireworks. I often have +wakeful nights." + +It was the first time she had ever alluded to the fact. He wondered if +she would summon the courage to tell him something further. He earnestly +hoped she would; but he hoped in vain. Chris said no more. + +He paused for a full minute to give her time, but, save that she became +tensely still, she made no sign. Very quietly he let the matter pass. He +would not force her confidence, but he realized at that moment more +clearly than ever before that she had only really belonged to him during +the brief fortnight that they had been alone together. The two months of +their married life had but served to teach him this somewhat bitter +lesson, and he determined then and there to win her back as he had won +her at the outset, to make her his once more and to keep her so for ever. + +"I am going to take you away, Chris," he said. "You are wanting a change. +Noel's holidays will be over next week. We will start then." + +"Where shall we go?" said Chris, and he detected the relief with which +she hailed the change of subject. + +"We will go to Valpré," he said, with quiet decision. + +"Valpré!" The word leaped out as if of its own volition. Chris suddenly +sprang upright from her pillows, and gazed at him wide-eyed. In the dim +light he could not see her face distinctly, but there was something +almost suggestive of fear in her attitude. "Why Valpré?" she said, in a +queer, breathless undertone as if she could not control her voice. + +He looked down at her in surprise. "You would like to go to Valpré again, +wouldn't you?" + +She gasped. "I--I really don't know. But what made you choose it? You +have never been there." + +"No," he said. "You will be able to introduce me to all your old haunts." + +She gasped again. "You chose it because of that?" + +He put a steadying hand upon her shoulder. "Chris, what makes you so +nervous, child? No, I didn't choose it because of that. As a matter of +fact, I didn't choose it at all. I am due there on business in three +weeks' time, but I thought we might put in a fortnight together there +beforehand. Wouldn't you like that?" + +She shivered under his hand, and made no reply. She only said, "What +business?" + +He hesitated a moment, then deliberately sat down upon the bed and drew +her close to him. "You remember that blackguard Frenchman Rodolphe who +was staying with the Pounceforts two or three weeks ago?" + +"Yes," whispered Chris. + +"He is to be court-martialled at Valpré, and I have accepted an offer to +go as correspondent to the _Morning Despatch_ and report upon his trial. +As you know, I represented them at Bertrand's _affaire,_ and this is a +sequel to that. In fact, Bertrand himself is very nearly concerned in it. +Certain transactions have recently come to light tending to show that the +crime of which he was accused was not only committed by this same +Rodolphe, but that he also deliberately manufactured evidence to shield +himself at the expense of Bertrand, the author of the betrayed invention, +against whom it seems he had a personal grudge. By the way, he managed +skilfully to keep in the background at Bertrand's trial. I fancy he was +away on some special mission at the time, and he did not appear. I never +saw him before that day at Sandacre Court, and I did not so much as know +then that he and Bertrand were acquainted. Did you know that?" + +She started at the question, but answered it more naturally than she had +before spoken. "Yes. I knew that Bertie had belonged to the same +regiment. They did not speak to each other that afternoon. You see, I was +there." + +"Ah! And you never met him in the old Valpré days?" + +Again she answered without apparent agitation; but her hands were fast +gripped together in the gloom. "I may have seen him. I never spoke to +him. Bertie was the only one I ever knew." + +"Ah!" Mordaunt said again. He was plainly thinking of Bertrand's affairs. +"Well, he is to stand his trial now, and I couldn't resist the chance of +being present at it. He was recalled to Paris a week ago, and summarily +arrested; but as popular feeling is running very high, the trial is to be +held at Valpré, which is a fairly important military station. That means +that the court-martial will take place probably in the fortress in which +the crime was committed--a pleasing consummation of justice." + +"And--Bertie will be vindicated?" breathed Chris. + +"If Rodolphe is convicted," Mordaunt answered, "Bertrand will be in a +position to return to France and demand a second trial, the outcome of +which would be practically a foregone conclusion, and at which I hope I +shall be present." + +Chris drew a sharp breath. "Then--then he will go to Valpré too?" + +"Not yet. He would be arrested and imprisoned if he did, and might +possibly ruin his cause as well. No, he will have to play a waiting game +for the present. I think myself it is the turn of the tide, but things +may yet go against him. There is no knowing. He is better off where he is +till we can see which way the matter will go. He doesn't want to spend +the rest of his life in a fortress." + +Chris shuddered uncontrollably at the bare thought. "Oh no--no! Trevor, +you won't let him run any risk of that?" + +"I shall certainly counsel prudence," Mordaunt answered. "If he runs any +risks, it will be with his eyes open." + +He paused a moment, then turned her face tenderly up to his own, and +kissed it. "And you don't like the Valpré plan?" he said, with great +gentleness. + +She hesitated. + +"We can go elsewhere if you prefer it," he said. "The court-martial will +probably only take a few days. We can stay somewhere near while it is in +progress. But I must have you with me wherever it is." + +He spoke the last words with his arms closely enfolding her. She turned +with sudden impulse and clasped him round the neck. + +"Oh, Trevor," she murmured brokenly, "you are good to me--you are good!" + +"My darling," he whispered back, "your happiness is mine--always." + +She made a choked sound of dissent. "I'm horribly selfish," she said, +with a sob. + +"No, dear, no. I understand. I ought to have thought of it before." + +She knew that he was thinking of Cinders, and that a return to the old +haunts could but serve to reopen a wound that was scarcely closed. She +was thankful that he interpreted her reluctance thus, even while she +marvelled to herself as she realized how far she had travelled since the +bitter day on which she had parted with her favourite. Looking back, she +saw now clearly what that tragedy had meant to her. It had been indeed +the commencement of a new stage in her life's journey. It was on that day +that she had finally stepped forth from the summer fields of her +childhood, and she knew that she would wander in them no more for ever. + +The thought went through her with a dart of pain. They had been very +green, those fields, and the great thoroughfare which now she trod seemed +cruelly hard to her unaccustomed feet. + +A sharp sigh escaped her as she gently withdrew herself from her +husband's arms. "Shall we talk about it to-morrow?" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" + + +Sitting in his writing-room with Bertrand that night Mordaunt imparted +the news that concerned him so nearly. + +The young Frenchman listened in almost unbroken silence, betraying +neither surprise nor even a very great measure of interest. He sat and +smoked, with eyes downcast, sometimes fidgeting a little with the fingers +of one hand on the arm of his chair, but otherwise displaying no sign of +agitation. + +Only at the end of the narration did he glance up, and that was but +momentarily, when Mordaunt said, "It transpires that this Rodolphe had an +old score to pay off. You were enemies?" + +Bertrand removed his cigarette to reply, "That is true." + +"You once fought a duel with him?" Mordaunt proceeded. + +Bertrand's eyelids quivered, but he did not raise them. He merely +answered, "Yes." + +"That fact will probably figure in the evidence," Mordaunt said. "The +cause of the duel is at present unknown." + +"It is--immaterial," Bertrand said, in a very low voice. He paused a +moment, then said, "And you, you will be at the trial to report?" + +"Yes. I am going. Chris will go with me." + +"Ah!" The exclamation seemed involuntary. Bertrand's hand suddenly +clenched hard upon the chair-arm. "You will take her--to Valpré?" he +questioned. + +"Probably not to the place itself," Mordaunt made answer. "I think she is +not very anxious to go there. It has associations that she would rather +not renew. We shall stay somewhere within easy reach of Valpré. Perhaps +you can tell me of a suitable resting-place not too far away. You know +that part of the world." + +"I know it well," Bertrand said, and fell silent, as though pondering the +matter. At the end of a lengthy pause he spoke, abruptly, with just a +tinge of nervousness. "But why do you take her if she does not desire to +go?" + +Mordaunt raised his brows a little. + +"You will pardon me," Bertrand added quickly, "but it occurs to me that +possibly she may prefer to remain at home. And if that were the case you +would not, I hope, consider my presence here as an obstacle, for"--again +he flashed a swift look across--"it is not my intention to remain." + +"What are your intentions?" Mordaunt asked. + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know yet. Circumstances will +decide. But it is certain that I can trespass no more upon your kindness. +I have already accepted too much from you--more than I can ever hope to +repay. Moreover"--he paused--"I do not wish to inconvenience you, and +since I cannot accompany you to France--" he paused again, and finally +decided to say no more. + +"Chris will go with me in any case," said Mordaunt quietly. "We have +already arranged that. You would cause no inconvenience to anyone by +staying here. In fact, it would be to my advantage." + +"To your advantage!" Bertrand echoed the words sharply, as if in some +fashion they hurt him; and then, "But no," he said with decision. "It has +never been to your advantage to employ me. You have done it from the +kindness of your heart, but it would have been better for you if you had +entrusted your affairs to a man more capable. And for that reason I am +going to ask you to find another secretary as soon as possible, one who +will perform his duties faithfully and merit his pay." + +"Is that the only reason?" Mordaunt asked unexpectedly. + +There fell a sudden silence. Bertrand, with bent head, appeared to be +closely examining the leather on which his fingers still drummed an +uneasy tattoo. At last, "It is the only reason which I have to give you," +he said, his voice very low. + +"It is not a very sound one," Mordaunt remarked. + +Again that quick shrug of the shoulders, and silence. Several moments +passed. Then with an abrupt movement Bertrand rose, laid aside his +cigarette, which had gone out, and seated himself at the writing-table. + +A pile of letters lay upon it that had arrived by the evening post. He +began to turn them over, and presently took up a paper-cutter and deftly +slit them open one by one. + +Mordaunt sat and smoked as one lost in thought. Finally, after a long +silence, he looked up and spoke. + +"Why this sudden hurry to dissolve partnership, Bertrand?" he asked, with +his kindly smile. "Is it this Rodolphe affair that has unsettled you? +Because surely it would be wiser to wait and see what is going to happen +before you take any decided step of this sort." + +"Ah! It is not that!" Bertrand spoke with a vehemence that sounded almost +passionate. "It is nothing to me--this affair. It interests me--not +that!" He snapped his fingers contemptuously. "No, no! The time for that +is past. What is honour, or dishonour, to me now--me who have been down +to the lowest abyss and who have learned the true value of what the world +calls great? Once--I admit it--I was young; I suffered. Now I am old, +and--I laugh!" + +Yet there was a note that was more suggestive of heartbreak than of mirth +in his voice. He applied himself feverishly to extracting a letter from +an envelope, while Mordaunt sat and gravely watched him. + +Suddenly, but very quietly, Mordaunt rose, strolled across, and took the +fluttering paper out of his hands. "Bertrand!" he said. + +The Frenchman looked up sharply, almost as if he would resent the action, +but something in the steady eyes that met his own altered the course of +his emotions. He leaned back in his chair with the gesture of a man +confronting the inevitable. + +Mordaunt sat down on the edge of the writing-table, face to face with +him. "Tell me why you want to leave me," he said. + +There was determination in his attitude, determination in the very +coolness of his speech. It was quite obvious that he meant to have an +answer. + +Bertrand contemplated him with a faint, rueful smile. "But what shall I +say?" he protested. "You English are so persistent. You will not be +content with the simple truth. You demand always--something more." + +"There you are mistaken," Mordaunt made grave reply. "It is the simple +truth that I want--nothing more." + +"_Ciel_!" Bertrand jumped in his chair as if he had been stabbed in the +back. "You insult me!" + +Mordaunt's hand came out to him instantly and reassuringly. "My dear +fellow, I never insult anyone. It is not my way." + +"But you do not believe me!" Bertrand protested. "And that is an +insult--that." + +"I believe you absolutely." Very quietly Mordaunt made answer. The hand +he would not take was laid with great kindness on his shoulder. "I happen +to know you too well to do otherwise. Why, man," he began to smile a +little, "if all the world turned false, I should still believe in you." + +"_Tiens_!" The word was almost a cry. Bertrand shook the friendly hand +from his shoulder as if it had been some evil thing, and almost with the +same movement pushed his chair back sharply out of reach. "You should not +say these things to me!" he stammered forth incoherently. "I do not +deserve them. I am not--I am not what you imagine. You do not know me. I +do not know myself. I--I--" He broke off in agitation and sprang +impetuously to his feet. + +With a gesture half-hopeless, half-appealing, he turned and walked to the +window, as if he could no longer bear to meet the level, grey eyes that +watched him with so kindly a confidence. + +There fell a silence in the room while Mordaunt, still sitting on the +writing-table, deliberately finished his cigarette. That done, he spoke. + +"Don't you think you had better tell me what is the matter?" + +Bertrand jerked his shoulders convulsively; it was the only response he +made. + +Mordaunt waited a few moments more. Then, "Very well," he said, without +change of tone or countenance. "We will dismiss the subject. If you +really mean to leave me, I will accept your resignation in the morning, +but not to-night. If--as I hope--you have thought better of it by then +and decide to remain, nothing further need be said. Will that satisfy +you?" + +Bertrand wheeled abruptly, and stood facing him, the length of the room +intervening. His mouth worked as if he were trying to speak, but he said +nothing whatever. + +Mordaunt turned without further words to the letter in his hand, and +studied it in silence. After a pause Bertrand came slowly back to the +writing-table. He had mastered his agitation, but he looked unutterably +tired. + +Mordaunt moved to one side at his approach. "Sit down!" he said, without +raising his eyes. + +Bertrand sat down, and began to turn his attention to sorting the letters +he had opened. Mordaunt stood motionless, reading with bent brows. + +Suddenly he spoke. "There is something here I can't understand." + +Bertrand glanced up. "Can I assist?" + +"I don't know. Read that!" Mordaunt laid the letter before him. "I can't +account for it. I think it must be a mistake." + +Bertrand took the letter and read it. It was an intimation from the bank +that in consequence of the bearer cheque for five hundred pounds +presented and cashed the week before, Mordaunt's account was overdrawn. + +"What cheque can it be?" Mordaunt said. "Have you any idea?" + +Bertrand shook his head. "But no! It is perhaps some charity--a gift that +you have forgotten?" + +"My good fellow, I may be careless, but I'm not so damned careless as +that." Mordaunt pulled out a bunch of keys with the words. "Let me have a +look at my cheque-book. You know where it is." + +Yes, Bertrand knew. He was as cognizant of the whereabouts of Mordaunt's +possessions as if they had been his own, and he had as free an access to +them. Such was the confidence reposed in him. + +He took the keys, selected the right one, stooped to fit it into the +lock. And then suddenly something happened. A violent tremor went through +him. He clutched at the table-edge, and the keys clattered to the ground. + +"Hullo!" Mordaunt said. + +Bertrand was staring downwards with eyes that saw not. At the sound of +Mordaunt's voice he started, and began to grope on the floor for the keys +as if stricken blind. + +"There they are, man, by your feet." Mordaunt stooped and recovered them +himself. "What's the matter? Aren't you well?" + +Bertrand lifted a ghastly face. "I am quite well," he said. "But--but +surely the bank would not cash a cheque so large without reference to +you!" + +Mordaunt looked at him a moment. "I have been in the habit of drawing +large sums," he said. "But I usually write a note to the bank to +accompany a cheque of this sort." + +He turned to the drawer and unlocked it. His cheque-book lay in its +accustomed place within. He took it out and commenced a careful +examination of the counterfoils of cheques already drawn. + +Bertrand sat quite motionless, with bowed head. He seemed to be numbly +waiting for something. + +Mordaunt was very deliberate in his search. He came to the end of the +counterfoils only, but went quietly on through the sheaf of blank cheques +that remained, gravely scrutinizing each. + +Minutes passed. Bertrand was sunk in his chair as one bent beneath some +overpowering weight, the pile of letters untouched before him. + +Suddenly Mordaunt paused, became tense for an instant, then slowly +relaxed. His eyes travelled from the open cheque-book to the man in the +chair. He contemplated him silently. + +After the lapse of several seconds, he laid the open book upon the table +before him. "A cheque has been abstracted here," he said. + +His voice was perfectly quiet. He made the statement as if there were +nothing extraordinary in it, as if he felt assured that there must be +some perfectly simple explanation to account for it, as if, in fact, he +scarcely recognized the existence of any mystery. + +But Bertrand uttered not a word. He was as one turned to stone. His eyes +became fixed upon the cheque in front of him, but his stare was wide and +vacant. He seemed to be thinking of something else. + +There fell a dead silence in the room, a stillness in which the quiet +ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece became maddeningly obtrusive. For +seconds that dragged out interminably neither of the two men stirred. It +was as if they were mutely listening to that eternal ticking, as one +listens to the tramp of a watchman in the dead of night. + +Then, at last, with a movement curiously impulsive, Trevor Mordaunt freed +himself from the spell. He laid his hand once more upon his secretary's +shoulder. + +"Bertrand!" he said, and in his voice interrogation, incredulity, even +entreaty, were oddly mingled. "You!" + +The Frenchman shivered, and came out of his lethargy. He threw a single +glance upwards, then suddenly bowed his head on his hands. But still he +spoke no word. + +Mordaunt's hand fell from him. He stood a moment, then turned and walked +away. "So that was the reason!" he said. + +He came to a stand a few feet away from the bent figure at the +writing-table, took out his cigarette-case, and deliberately lighted a +cigarette. His face as he did it was grimly composed, but there were +lines in it that very few had ever seen there. His eyes were keen and +cold as steel. They held neither anger nor contempt, only a tinge of +humour inexpressibly bitter. + +Finally, through a cloud of smoke, he spoke again. "Have you nothing to +say?" + +Bertrand stirred, but he did not lift his head. "Nothing," he muttered, +almost inarticulately. + +"Then"--very evenly came the words--"that ends the case. I have nothing +to say, either. You can go as soon as you wish." + +He spoke with the utmost distinctness. His head was tilted back, and his +eyes, still with that icy glint of amusement in them, watched the smoke +ascending from his cigarette. + +There was a brief pause. Then Bertrand stumbled stiffly to his feet. He +seemed to move with difficulty. He turned heavily towards the Englishman. + +"Monsieur," he said with ceremony, "you have--I believe--the right to +prosecute me." + +Mordaunt did not even look at him. "I believe I have," he said. + +"_Alors--_" the Frenchman paused. + +"I shall not exercise it," Mordaunt said curtly. + +"You are too generous," Bertrand answered. + +He spoke without emotion, yet there was something in his tone--something +remotely suggestive of irony--that brought Mordaunt's eyes down to him. +He looked at him hard and straight. + +But Bertrand did not meet the look. With a mournful gesture he turned +away. "I shall never cease to regret," he said, "the unhappy fate that +sent me into your life. I blame myself bitterly--bitterly. I should have +drawn back at the commencement, but I had not the strength. Only +monsieur, believe this"--his voice suddenly trembled--"it was never my +intention to rob you. Moreover, that which I have taken--I will restore." + +He spoke very earnestly, with a baffling touch of dignity that seemed in +some fashion to place him out of reach of contempt. + +Mordaunt heard him without impatience, and replied without scorn. "What +you have taken can never be restored. The utmost you can do is to let me +forget, as soon as possible, that I ever imagined you to be--what you +are not." + +The simplicity of the words effected in an instant that which neither +taunt nor sneer could ever have accomplished. It pierced straight to +Bertrand's heart. He turned back impulsively, with outstretched hands. + +"But, my friend--my friend--" he cried brokenly. + +Mordaunt checked him on the instant with a single imperious gesture of +dismissal, so final that it could not be ignored. + +The words died on Bertrand's lips. He wheeled sharply, as if at a word of +command, and went to the door. + +But as he opened it, Mordaunt spoke. "I will see you again in the +morning." + +"Is it necessary?" Bertrand said. + +"I desire it." Mordaunt spoke with authority. + +Bertrand turned and made him a brief, punctilious bow. "That is enough," +he said, and left the room martially, his head in the air. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DESPERATE REMEDY + + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck two, and Mordaunt rose from his chair +to close the window. The night was very still and dark. He stood for a +few moments breathing the moist air. From somewhere away in the distance +there came the weird cry of an owl--the only sound in a waste of silence. +He leaned his head against the window-sash with a sensation of physical +sickness. His heart was heavy as lead. + +"Trevor!" + +It was no more than a whisper, but he heard it. He turned. "Chris!" + +She stood before him, her white draperies caught together with one hand, +her hair flowing in wide ripples all about her, her eyes anxiously raised +to his. + +"Trevor," she said, "what is the matter?" + +There was a species of desperate courage in the low question. The fingers +that grasped her wrapper were tightly clenched. + +He closed the window. "Have you been lying awake for me?" he said. "I am +sorry." + +"Something is the matter," she said with conviction. "Won't you tell me +what it is? I--I would rather know." + +"I will tell you in the morning, dear," he said gently. "You must go back +to bed. I am coming myself now." + +But Chris stood still. "I want to know now, please, Trevor," she said. "I +shall not sleep at all unless I know." + +He put his arm about her, looking down at her with great tenderness. +"Must I tell you now?" he said, a hint of weariness in his voice. + +She did not resist his touch, but neither did she yield herself to him. +She stood within the encircling arm, looking straight up at him with +wide, resolute eyes. + +"It is something to do with Bertie," she said, in the same tone of +unquestioning conviction. + +He raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think so?" + +She frowned a little. "It doesn't matter, does it? Won't you tell me what +has happened?" + +He hesitated momentarily; then; "Yes, I will tell you," he said. +"Bertrand is leaving to-morrow--for good." + +He felt her stiffen against his arm, and for the first time he noticed +her pallor and the unusual steadfastness of her eyes. He realized that +she was putting strong restraint upon herself, and the fact made her +strangely unfamiliar to him. He was accustomed to vivid speech and +impetuous action. He scarcely knew her in this mood, although he +recognized that he had seen it at least once before. + +"Why?" Her lips scarcely moved as they asked the question. Her eyes never +left his face. + +He drew her to the writing-table on which his cheque-book still lay open +at the place whence a cheque had been abstracted with its counterfoil. + +"Sit down," he said, "and I will tell you." + +She sat down in silence. + +He knelt beside her as he had knelt on their wedding-night, and took her +cold hands into his own. + +"I think you know," he said quietly, "that I have always trusted Bertrand +implicitly." + +"You trust everyone," she said, with a small, aloof smile, as if she were +trying to appear courteous while her thoughts were elsewhere. + +"Yes, to my undoing," he told her grimly. "I trusted him to the utmost, +and--and he has betrayed my trust." + +She started at that, but instantly controlled herself. "In what way?" she +asked him, her voice scarcely above a whisper. + +He drew the cheque-book to him. "If you look at this cheque and the +next," he said, "you will see that there is one missing. There has been a +cheque taken out." + +"Yes?" said Chris. + +Her eyes rested for a moment upon the cheque-book, and returned to his +face. They held a curious expression as of relief and doubt mingled. + +"That is how he betrayed my trust," he told her quietly. "He used that +cheque to forge my signature and withdraw a sum of money from my account +which under ordinary circumstances I should probably never have missed. +As he is aware, I keep a large account, and I am in the habit of drawing +large cheques. As it chanced, the account was not quite so large as +usual, and it did not quite cover the amount withdrawn. Consequently my +attention was called to it, and I looked into the matter and +discovered--this." + +"Yes?" said Chris. "Yes?" + +She was breathing very fast. It was evident that her agitation was +getting beyond her control. + +He clasped her hands closer, with a warm and comforting pressure. He +knew--or he thought he knew--what this revelation would mean to her. Had +not Bertrand been even more her friend, her trusted counsellor, than his +own? + +"That is all the story, dear," he said gently. "We have got to face it as +bravely as we can. He will leave in the morning, so you need not see him +again." + +She made a quick, involuntary movement, and her hands slipped from his. + +"Not see him again!" she repeated, staring at him with wide eyes. "Not +see him again!" + +"I think it would be wiser not," he said, very kindly. "It would only +cause you unnecessary pain." + +She uttered a sudden breathless little laugh. "Trevor--am I dreaming? +Or--are you mad? You don't--actually--believe he did this thing?" + +His face hardened a little. "He had the sense not to attempt to deny it. +There was no question as to his guilt. He was the only person besides +myself who had access to my cheque-book." + +"But--" Chris said, and paused, as if to collect her thoughts. "How much +was taken?" she asked after a moment. + +"That," Mordaunt observed, "is the least important part of the whole +miserable business." + +"Still, tell me," she persisted. + +"He took five hundred pounds." + +"Trevor!" She gasped for breath, and turned so white that he thought for +a moment she would faint. + +He put his arm round her quickly. "Chris, we won't discuss it any further +to-night. You must go back to bed. You will catch cold if you stay here +any longer." + +But for the first time in her life she resisted him. She drew away from +him. She almost pushed him from her. + +"Five hundred pounds!" she said, speaking through white lips. She was +shivering violently from head to foot. "But--but--what should Bertie want +with five hundred pounds?" + +"I didn't inquire what he did with it." Mordaunt's answer came with +implacable sternness. "I haven't the least curiosity on that point. It is +enough for me that he took it." + +"Oh, Trevor, how hard you are!" The words rushed out like the cry of a +hurt creature, and suddenly Chris's hands were on his shoulders, and +her face, pinched and desperate, looked closely into his. "You have so +much--so much!" she wailed. "You don't know what temptation is!" + +He rose to his feet instantly and lifted her to hers. She was sobbing +terribly, but without tears. He held her to him, supporting her. + +"Chris, Chris!" he said. "Don't, child, don't! I know what this means to +you. It means a good deal to me too, more than you realize. But for +Heaven's sake let us stand together over it. Let us be reasonable." + +There was strong appeal in his voice; for in that moment, though he held +her to his heart, he knew that the gulf between them had suddenly begun +to widen. He saw the danger in a flash of intuition, but he was powerless +to avert it. They viewed the matter from opposite standpoints. Did they +not view all matters moral thus? She could condone what he could only +condemn, and because of this she deemed him hard and feared him. + +He bent his face to hers as he held her. His lips moved against her +forehead. "Chris," he said softly, "don't cry, dear! Listen to me. I'm +not going to punish him. He will have to go of course. As a matter of +fact, he meant to do so in any case. But it will go no further than that. +There will be no prosecution." + +She turned her face up quickly, and he saw that her eyes were dry, though +her breathing was spasmodic. "You couldn't prosecute an innocent man," +she said. "And he is innocent. I know he is innocent. You say he didn't +deny it. It was because he wouldn't stoop to deny it. He knew you would +never believe him if he did." + +The words came fast and passionate. She drew back from him to utter them, +and for the first time he read a challenge in her desperate eyes. + +He let her go out of his arms. He had tried to bridge the gulf, but the +distance was too great. His tenderness only gave her courage to defy him. + +With a stifled sigh he abandoned the conflict. "As I said before, there +is no question of his guilt," he said, with quiet emphasis. "Far from +denying it, he even announced his intention of restoring what he had +taken. That, of course, is also out of the question. He will probably +never be in a position to do so. But in any case it is beside the point. +It is useless to discuss it further." + +She broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Trevor, won't you believe me when +I say that I know--I know--he is innocent?" + +He looked at her. "How do you know it?" + +She wrung her hands together. "Oh, I have no proof! Can't you believe me +without proof?" + +He was watching her intently. "I believe in your sincerity, of course," +he said. "But I am afraid I don't share your conviction." + +"But you must--you must!" she cried. "I know him better than you do. I +know him to be incapable of the tiniest speck of dishonour. I swear that +he is innocent! I swear it! I swear it!" + +He put out a restraining hand. "Chris, don't say any more! You are +only upsetting yourself to no purpose. Come, child, it is useless to go +on--quite useless." + +She flung out her arms with a gesture of utter despair. "You won't +believe me?" + +He turned to lock up his cheque-book. "I have answered that question +already," he said, without impatience. + +She drew near to him. Her blue eyes burned with a feverish light. Her +face was haggard. "Trevor, what would you say if--if--I told you he were +shielding someone--if I told you he were shielding--me?" Her voice sank +upon the word. + +He turned sharply round, so sharply that she shrank. But he made no +movement towards her. He only looked full and piercingly into her face. +At the end of ten seconds he spoke, so calmly that his voice sounded +cold. + +"I am afraid I shouldn't believe you." + +His eyes fell away from her with the words. He dropped his keys into his +pocket and switched off the light from his writing-table. + +Chris was shivering again, shivering from head to foot. She could barely +keep her teeth from chattering. He came to her and put his arm round her. + +She glanced up at him nervously, but his quiet face told her nothing. +Almost involuntarily she suffered him to lead her from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WHEN LOVE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE + + +When Chris awoke, the morning sunshine was streaming in through the open +windows, and she was alone. She came back to full remembrance slowly, as +one toiling along a difficult road. Her brain felt very tired. She lay +vaguely listening to the gay trill of a robin on the terrace below, +dreading the moment when the dull ache at her heart should turn to active +pain. + +A cheery whistle on the gravel under her windows roused her at last. She +took up her burden again with a great sigh. + +"O God!" she whispered, as she turned her heavy head upon the pillow, "do +let me die soon--do let me die soon!" + +But there was no voice nor any that answered. + +Wearily at length she raised herself. It was curious how ill she felt. +She looked longingly back at her pillow. + +At the same instant the gay whistle in the garden gave place to a cracked +shout. "Hullo, Chris! Aren't you going to get up to-day? Do you know what +time it is?" + +She started, and looked at her watch. Ten o'clock! In amazement and +consternation she sprang from the bed. Bertrand was to leave in the +morning; so Trevor had told her. She must--she must--see him before he +left! Doubtless Trevor had hoped that she would sleep on till the +afternoon, and so miss him. How little he knew! How little he understood! + +With a bound she reached the window, there a sudden dizziness attacked +her. She clutched at the curtain with both hands. What if he had gone +already? What if she were never to see him again? + +Desperately she steadied herself. She must not give way thus. She looked +out and saw Noel, walking along the edge of the balustrade that bounded +the terrace. His arms were outstretched, and he balanced himself with +extreme difficulty. It looked perilous, but she knew him well enough to +feel no anxiety, notwithstanding the fact that there was a fall of twelve +feet on one side of him. + +After a few moments she commanded herself sufficiently to call down to +him, "Noel, where is everybody?" + +He looked up, lost his balance, and sprang down upon the terrace. "By +Jove! Aren't you dressed yet? What are we coming to? Trevor is gone to +ride round the estate, wouldn't have me for some reason. Bertrand is in +his room with the door locked, says he is busy--all bally rot, of course. +And Aunt Phil, thank the gods! is packing her trunk to leave by the five +o'clock train. By the way, Trevor said I was to see you had some +breakfast. What would you like? I'll bring it up to you myself in two +shakes." + +Chris felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat. Somehow the tenderness +of her husband's love hurt her more than it comforted just then. She knew +that he had absented himself and deputed Noel to wait upon her because he +had divined that she would prefer it. His intuition frightened her also. +Was he beginning to divine other things as well? Recalling his intent +look of the night before, the wonder struck chill to her heart. Yes, she +was thankful that he had gone; but it would be horribly hard to meet him +again after she and Bertrand had said good-bye. Aunt Philippa's +departure, eagerly though she had anticipated it, would make it harder. +Very soon Noel also would be gone, and they would be alone together. How +would she keep her secret then? How hide her soul from those grave, keen +eyes that probed so deeply? + +Ah! but he trusted her; he trusted her! Back to the old sheet-anchor flew +her whirling thoughts. His faith in her was invincible, unassailable. It +kept her safe. It sheltered her from every danger. It was her single +safeguard in temptation; without it she would be lost. + +She swallowed the lump in her throat, and leaned from the window to give +her brother the instructions he awaited. + +Turning back into the room, she found a note in her husband's handwriting +lying on her table. She took it up. + +"I do not forbid you to see Bertrand," it ran, "though I think you would +be wiser not to do so. I have already taken leave of him. He refuses to +be open with me, so there is no more to be said. It is by his own wish +that he is leaving to-day. As I said to you last night, I shall take no +legal steps against him, but that does not alter the fact that he is a +criminal, and for that reason your friendship with him must cease. I am +sorry, but it is inevitable. I think you will see it for yourself by and +bye, but till then my prohibition must be enough. I cannot be disobeyed +in this matter. Bear it in mind, dear, and believe that, even though I +may seem hard, I am acting for your welfare, which is more to me than +anything else on earth. + +"Yours, +TREVOR." + +Her face was white and strained as she read the note through. She seemed +to hear her husband's quiet voice in every sentence. Never till that +moment had she fully realized the fact that he had the right thus to +guide and restrain her actions. Never till that moment had she found her +will in direct opposition to his. A sudden passion of rebellion swept +upon her, possessed her. It was intolerable, impossible; she could not +submit to the mandate. + +To give up her friend--the dear knight of her girlhood's dreams--to see +him never again, to close her heart to him, to shut out the very memory +of him, to take up her life without him--no, never, never, never! Her +throbbing heart cried out against it. It was not to be borne. A fury akin +to hatred surged up within her. There was no man living who could make +her do this thing. + +Fiercely she tore the paper across and across, and flung the fragments +from her. Never would she consent to this! She would defy him sooner! + +Defy him! It was as if a voice spoke suddenly in her soul, asking a quiet +question. Could she defy him and still hide her secret? Would not the +steady eyes read her through and through the instant that her will +resisted his? Would he not know in a moment? Was it not even possible +that he had begun already to suspect? + +Again she recalled his intent look of the night before, and her heart +misgave her. Had she betrayed herself? Had he seen behind the veil? She +shivered at the thought, and for a few moments she was overwhelmingly +afraid. How would she ever meet those eyes again? + +But when presently Noel presented himself she had recovered her +self-command. She even compelled herself to eat some breakfast, while he +balanced himself on the window-sill and made careless conversation. It +was evident that he knew nothing of Bertrand's impending departure, and +she was relieved that this was so. She could not have borne his curiosity +or his comments. + +"What are you going to do to-day?" she presently inquired. + +"When you've had a decent meal, I'm going for a ride," he answered +promptly. "Can't waste the whole day hanging about and Fiddle's spoiling +for a gallop. You won't come, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. "No. I couldn't, anyhow. I must stay with Aunt +Philippa to-day. I've had quite a lot to eat. Don't wait." + +He sprang to his feet at once. "You haven't done badly, have you, +considering you've been lazing in bed instead of working up an appetite +in the open air? I say, Chris, there's nothing the matter, is there?" + +"Of course not," she returned briskly. "Why?" + +"You're not looking exactly chirpy," he said, regarding her critically. +"And Trevor was positively bearish this morning. He hasn't been bullying +you, has he?" + +"Of course not," she said again. "How absurd you are!" + +He looked incredulous. "Don't you stick it!" he warned her. "If he tries +it on, you come to me. I'll settle him." + +She laughed and turned the subject. "Hadn't you better start? It's +getting late." + +"P'raps I had. Good-bye, then!" He bent unexpectedly and kissed her +cheek. "We'll go for a picnic to-morrow," he said, "to celebrate Aunt +Phil's departure. Keep your pecker up! She'll soon be gone." + +He marched away, whistling, and Chris was alone. + +She rose and finished her dressing with feverish haste. Now was her time. + +Noel had said Bertrand was in his room. She must see him alone. But how +should she let him know? If she went in search of him she might encounter +Aunt Philippa and be detained. She went down to her husband's room, and +rang the bell there. + +Holmes answered it in some surprise, knowing his master to be out; but +she gave him no time for speculation. + +"Holmes," she said, "I believe Mr. Bertrand is somewhere in the house. I +wish you would find him, and say I am waiting to speak to him on a matter +of importance. I am going into the garden. He will find me under the +yew-tree." + +Holmes departed with his customary dispatch. There was something +indefinable about his young mistress that made him wish his master were +at hand. He made his way to Bertrand's room and knocked. + +There was no immediate reply; then, "I am busy," said Bertrand from +within. + +"If you please, sir!" said Holmes. + +There was a movement in the room at once, and the door opened. "Ah! It is +the good Holmes!" said Bertrand. "I thought that it was Monsieur Noel. +What is it, then? You bring me a message?" + +He looked at the man with sleepless eyes that shone curiously bright. In +the room behind him a portmanteau, half-filled, lay upon the floor. + +For a single instant Holmes hesitated before delivering his message. Then +he gave it punctiliously, word for word. + +"I am obliged to you," said Bertrand courteously. "I shall go to Mrs. +Mordaunt at once." + +He crossed the threshold therewith, but paused a moment outside the room. + +"Holmes," he said, "I go to London by the 11.50. Will you arrange for my +luggage to be taken to the station?" + +Holmes's well-ordered countenance expressed no surprise. "Very good, sir. +And you yourself, sir?" he said. + +"I shall walk," said Bertrand. + +"You would like me to finish packing for you, sir?" suggested Holmes. + +"Ah! That would be very good." Bertrand's voice expressed relief. He +stepped back into the room to slip a sovereign into the man's hand. + +But Holmes drew back. "Thank you, sir. I'd rather not, sir." + +Bertrand's brows went up. "How? But we are friends, no?" he questioned. + +"I don't know, sir," said Holmes, respectful but firm. "Anyhow, I'd +rather not, sir." + +"_Eh bien_!" The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and turned. "_Adieu_, +Holmes!" he said. + +"Good-day, sir!" said Holmes. + +He stood in the middle of the room till Bertrand had gone, then with an +expressionless face he betook himself to the door of Aunt Philippa's +room. + +Here he knocked again, and, receiving Mrs. Forest's permission to enter, +presented himself on the threshold. "I have come to say, madam, that Mrs. +Mordaunt is in the garden under the old yew," he announced deferentially. +"Will you be good enough to join her there?" + +Aunt Philippa, in the midst of her own preparations for departure, +received the news with considerable surprise. It was not Chris's custom +to send her messages of any description. The summons fired her curiosity; +but her dignity would not allow her to hasten overmuch to answer it. + +"I will be with Mrs. Mordaunt in a few minutes," she said. + +And Holmes departed, impassive still but with a mind uneasy. He wished +with all his soul that the master had not chosen to absent himself that +morning. Perhaps he was unreasonably nervous, but there seemed to be +tragedy in the very air. + +Bertrand, traversing the lawn bareheaded, was keenly aware of tragedy; +but it did not delay his steps. He went down the shady path that led to +Chris's retreat at a speed that left him breathless. He paused with his +hand to his heart as he reached the yew-tree before plunging into the +gloom beneath its great, drooping branches. He was living too fast, and +he knew it, could almost feel his life running out like the sand in an +hour-glass. But a great recklessness possessed him. If his strength could +only be made to last for a couple of hours more, he did not care what +happened to him, how soon the sand ran out. + +He had suffered more during the past night than he had ever thought to +suffer again. He had fought a desperate fight, and it had cost him nearly +all his strength. He knew instinctively that he must make the most of +what was left. Afterwards--afterwards--when the ordeal was over, he would +sink down and rest, it mattered not where. If he lived long enough, he +would keep his promise to Max Wyndham. If not,--well, he would not be +needing human help. The gods had nearly done with him, and he was too +weary to care. If he could only be faithful a little longer--a little +longer! Nothing would matter afterwards, and the pain would be over then. + +"Bertie, I am here!" + +He started, and for a moment that which he had been fighting down all +night showed in his eyes. He thrust it away out of sight. He answered her +with his usual courteous confidence. + +"Ah! You are there, Christine! You will pardon me for keeping you +waiting. I came as soon as your message reached me." + +He lifted one of the great yew-branches and stepped beneath as if +entering a tent. It fell behind him, and in the green gloom they were +face to face. + +"Were you going without saying good-bye?" said Chris. + +She stood before him, very pale and quiet. Her eyes did not meet his +quite fully. + +He spread out his hands. "I knew not if you would wish to see me." + +"Don't you know me better than that?" she said. He did not answer her. +Evidently she did not expect an answer, for she went on almost at once. +"Bertie, why did you let Trevor think you had robbed him?" + +He made a sharp gesture of protest, but remained silent. + +She laid her hand on his arm. "Come and sit down, Bertie! And please +answer me, because I want to know." + +He went with her to the rustic seat against the tree-trunk. He was +gripping his self-control with all his strength. + +"Mr. Mordaunt must think what he will," he said at length, with an +effort. "He can never judge me too severely." + +"Why do you say that?" Chris asked the question quickly, nervously, as if +she had to ask it, yet dreaded the answer. + +"I think you know, Christine," he answered, his voice very low. + +She shrank a little. "But that money, Bertie? You knew nothing of that?" + +He was silent for a moment; then, "We will not speak of that," he said +firmly. "I could not stay here in any case, so--it makes no difference." + +"No difference that he should think you a thief!" exclaimed Chris. + +He turned his eyes downwards, staring heavily at the ground between his +feet. "I ask myself," he said, "if I am any better than a thief." + +"Bertie!" There was quick distress in her voice this time. "But you have +done nothing wrong," she declared vehemently, "nothing whatever!" + +He shook his head in silence, not looking at her. + +"And you are ill," she went on, passing the matter by as if not trusting +herself. "What will you do? Where will you go?" + +He sat up slowly and faced her. "I go to London," he said, "and I must +start now. Do not be anxious for me, Christine. I have money enough. Mr. +Mordaunt offered me more this morning. But I had no need of it, and I +refused." + +He spoke quite steadily. He was braced for the ordeal. He would be strong +until the need for strength was past. + +But with Chris it was otherwise. For her there was no prospect of +relaxation. She was but at the beginning of her trial, and her whole soul +shrank from the contemplation of what lay before her. The dear dreams of +her childhood had flickered out like pictures on a screen. And she had +awakened to find herself in a prison-house from which all her life long +she could never hope to escape. Did some memory of the arms that had +enfolded her so often and so tenderly come to her as she realized it? If +so, it was only to stab her afresh with the bitter irony of Fate that had +lavished upon her the love of a man who had filled her life with all that +woman's heart could desire, and yet had failed to give her happiness. + +And so, when Bertrand spoke of going, the newly awakened heart of her +rose up in sudden, hot revolt. His departure was inevitable, and she knew +it, but her endurance was not equal to the strain. She had deemed herself +stronger than she was. + +She threw out her hands with a passionate gesture. "Bertie! What shall I +do without you? I can't go on by myself. I can't--I can't!" + +It was like the cry of a child, but in it there throbbed all the deep +longing of her womanhood. Ah! why had her eyes been opened? Surely she +had been happier blind! + +He took the outflung hands and held them. He looked into her eyes. "But, +_chérie_," he said, "you have your husband." + +"I know--I know!" Piteously the words came from her. "He is very good to +me. But, Bertie, he--has never been--first. I know it now. I didn't know +before, or I wouldn't have married him. I swear I would never have +married him--if I had known!" + +"_Chérie_, hush!" Almost sternly he checked her, though his eyes +were unfailingly kind. "You must not say it, Christine. Words always +make a bad thing worse. Think instead how great is his love for you. +Remember--oh, remember that you are his wife! The sin was mine that you +could ever forget it. But you have not forgotten it, _mignonne!_ Tell me +that you have not! Tell me that when you think of me it will be as a +friend who gives you no regrets, the friend of your childhood, little +Christine--the comrade with whom you played in the sunshine; no more +than that--no more than that!" + +Very earnestly he besought her, holding her hands lightly clasped between +his own, ready at her slightest movement to let them go. But she made no +effort to withdraw them. She only bent her head and wept as though her +heart were breaking. + +"_Chérie, chérie_!" he said, and that was all; for he had no words +wherewith to comfort her. He had wrought the mischief, but the remedy did +not lie with him. + +His own lips quivered above her bowed head; he bit them desperately. + +After a little she commanded herself sufficiently to speak through her +tears. "Bertie, you once said--that there was no goodness without Love. +Then why--why is Love--wrong?" + +"Love is not wrong, _chérie_." Instant and reassuring came his answer. +"Let us be true to Love, and we are true to God. For Love is God, and in +every heart He is to be found; sometimes in much, sometimes in very, very +little, but He is always there." + +"I don't understand," said Chris. "If that were so--why mustn't we love +each other? Why is it wrong?" + +"It is not wrong." Again with absolute assurance Bertrand spoke. "So long +as it is pure, it is also holy. There is no sin in Love. We shall love +each other always, dear, always. With me it will be more--and ever more. +Though I shall not be with you, though I shall not see your face or touch +your hand, you will know that I am loving you still. It will be as an +Altar Flame that burns for ever. But I will be faithful. My love shall +never hurt you again. That is where I sinned. I was selfish enough to +show you the earthly part of my love--the part that dies, just as our +bodies die, setting our spirits free. For see, _chérie_, it is not the +material part that endures. All things material must pass, but the +spiritual lives on for ever. That is why Love is immortal. That is why +Love can never die." + +She listened to him in silence, scarcely comprehending at the moment +words that later were to become the only light to guide her stumbling +feet. + +"Would you say that you love the dead no more because you see them not?" +he questioned gently. "The sight--the touch--what is it? Only the earthly +medium of Love; Love Itself is a higher thing, capable of the last +sacrifice, greater than evil, stronger than death. Oh, believe me, +Christine, Death is a very small thing compared with Love. If our love +were of the spirit only, Death would be less than nothing; for it is only +the body that can ever die." + +"But why can't we be happy before we die?" whispered Chris. "Other people +are." + +He shook his head. "I doubt it, _chérie_. With death in the world there +can be no perfection. All passes--all passes--except only the Love that +is our Life." + +He paused a moment, seeming to hesitate upon the verge of telling her +something more; but in that instant she raised her head and he refrained. + +"Ah, Christine," he said sadly, "I never thought that I should make you +weep like this." + +"Oh, it's not your fault, Bertie." She smiled at him, with quivering +lips. "It's just life. But--dearest--I want you to know all the +same--that I'm glad--I'm glad I love you so. And--whether it's right or +wrong, I can't help it--I shall always love you--best of all." + +His eyes shone at the words. A passionate answer sprang to his lips, but +he stopped it unuttered. "We are not responsible for that which we cannot +help," he said instead. "Only--my darling"--for the first time the +English word of endearment passed his lips, spoken almost under his +breath--"never permit the thought of me to come between you and your +husband. Be faithful, Christine--be faithful!" + +She made no answer of any sort; but her eyes were hopeless. + +He waited a while, still holding her hands while tenderly he watched her. +At last, "I must go, _chérie_," he whispered. + +Her face quivered. Suddenly and impetuously as of old she spoke. "Bertie, +once--long ago--you meant to marry me, didn't you?" + +His own face contracted. "Do not let us torture ourselves in vain," he +urged her gently. + +"But it is true!" she persisted. + +He hesitated an instant. "Yes, it is true," he said. + +She leaned her head back, looking him straight in the eyes. There was a +light in hers that he had never seen before. They gleamed like stars, +seeing him only. "Bertie," she said, and her voice thrilled upon the +words, "I was yours then, and I am yours now. I have always belonged +to you, and you to me. Bertie, I--am coming with you." + +His violent start testified to the utter unexpectedness of her +announcement. Such a possibility had not, it was obvious, suggested +itself to him. He turned white to the lips. + +"Christine!" he stammered incredulously. + +Feverishly she broke in upon his astonishment. "Oh, don't be shocked! It +is absolutely the only way. I cannot stay here without you. Trevor will +keep us apart. He will not let me even write to you. He says that our +friendship must cease. And it cannot--it cannot! Bertie, don't you see? +Don't you understand? Don't you--want me?" + +A note of despair rang in her voice. Her hands suddenly gripped each +other in agonized misgiving. But on the instant his gripped closer, +holding them crushed against his breast in fierce reassurance. His eyes +shone full into hers, and for one moment of fiery rapture which both were +to remember all their lives their souls mingled, became fused in one, +forgetful of all beside. + +Out of the silence the man's voice came, low and passionate. "_Le +bon Dieu_ knows how I want you, my bird of Paradise! But yet--but +yet--" Something seemed to choke his utterance. He gave a sudden gasp, +and bowed his head forward upon her shoulder. + +Her arms were round him in an instant. "What is it, dearest? You are +ill!" + +"No," he said. "No." But still he gasped for breath, and she fancied that +he repressed a shudder. + +He raised his head after a moment. "Pardon me, _chérie_. I am only--weak. +Christine, all my life--all my life--I shall remember--how you were +ready--to give up all--all--for me. But, _mignonne_, I cannot take +such a sacrifice. I dare not. Go back to your husband, _chérie_. It is +your duty. You are his, not mine. We will not stain our love thus. +Christine"--his voice broke--"_ma mignonne_, I love you too well--too +well--to do this thing. You shall not be ruined--for my sake." + +"Oh, but, Bertie!" she pleaded. She was clinging to him now; her +eyes implored him. "Think of me here without you! Never to see you +again--never to have a single word from you any more! Bertie, I can't +bear it--I can't bear it! It will be no sacrifice to me to come with +you. I don't mind hardship. I'm used to poverty, But here--but here--" + +Her voice broke also, she could say no more. His arms went round her, +straining her to him. His face was close to hers. But his eyes were the +eyes of a man in torture. + +"I know--I know all," he whispered. "Yet--my darling--you must stay--and +I must go. When Love demands a sacrifice--" + +"I will sacrifice anything--everything--all I have!" she cried out +wildly. + +"We must sacrifice each other," he said. "That is the test of our love, +_chérie_. That is the sacrifice that Love demands." + +He spoke quite quietly, with the calmness of one who knew and faced the +worst. The torture in his eyes had turned to dumb endurance. "Only thus," +he said--"only thus can we be true to our love. We sacrifice the little +for the much. _Mignonne_, believe me, it is worth it. You are mine, and I +am yours. So be it, then. Let us be--faithful." + +He spoke with the utmost tenderness; yet was she awed. Her sudden +rebellion died. It was as though a quiet hand had been laid upon her +heart, stilling her pain. For one moment she looked with him across the +long, dark furrows of mortal life into the great Beyond, and knew that he +had spoken the truth. Their love was worth the sacrifice. + +"Oh, Bertie," she said, in a whisper, "you are right, dear, you are +right." + +His eyes flashed swift understanding into hers; yet for a moment his arms +tightened about her, as if her submission made it harder for him to let +her go. + +She waited till they relaxed, and then she laid her hands upon his +shoulders. "Bertie," she said very earnestly, "forget I ever asked it of +you!" + +He shook his head instantly, with a sudden, transforming smile that +revealed in him the young, quick spirit that had caught hers so long ago. +"Oh no--no!" he said. "It will be to me the most precious memory of my +life. By it I shall always remember--the so great generosity--of +your love." + +The smile went out of his face. He leaned nearer to her. She read +irresolution in his eyes, and a quiver that was half of hope and half of +apprehension went through her. Was he going to fail, after all, in the +moment of victory? If so--if so-- + +But he restrained himself. She saw him fight down the impulse that urged +him inch by inch until he had it in subjection. Under her watching eyes +he conquered. He showed her the Omnipotence of Love. + +Quietly, with no exaggeration of reverence, he knelt before her. He took +her hands into his own, turned them upwards, pressed his lips to each +palm, let them go. + +The silence between them was like a sacrament. She never knew how long it +lasted. It was a farewell more final than any words. + +At last, "God keep you, my Christine!" he said. "God bless you!" + +He rose to his feet, but he did not look at her again. + +She could not speak in answer; there was no need of speech. He knew her +heart as he knew his own. + +And so in silence, with bent head, he left her. And the sun went out of +her sky. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WAY OF THE WYNDHAMS + + +When Mordaunt returned from his ride, it was close upon the +luncheon-hour. He went straight upstairs to prepare for the meal. + +Chris's room was empty. He wondered where she was, but Noel bounded in +and enlightened him before he descended. + +"She's doing the pretty to Aunt Philippa," he reported. "Only three more +hours now! Hip, hip, hooray!" + +His yell caused Mordaunt to fling the towel he was using at his head, a +compliment which seemed to please him immensely. He draped it round his +neck and proceeded to deliver himself of that which he had come to say. + +"Look here, Trevor, you've been bullying Chris, haven't you? You needn't +say you haven't, because I know you have." + +"Did she tell you so?" Mordaunt sounded grim. + +Noel turned to look at him. "No. She said you hadn't. But she always +tells a cram when it suits her purpose. I knew you had all the same." + +Mordaunt was silent. + +"She's horribly down in the mouth," Noel proceeded. "She never used to be +before she married you. It's a pretty beastly thing to have to say, but +someone ought to say it, and if I don't no one else will." + +"Go on," said Mordaunt. "Your sense of duty does you credit." + +"Don't be a beast! It isn't duty at all. I'm simply pointing out the +obvious. I should think you could see it for yourself, can't you?" + +Mordaunt brushed his hair in silence. + +"It's got to stop anyhow," Noel went on with determination. "She's not to +be bullied. It's worse than shabby,--it--it's damned mean to--to treat +her as if--as if--" He became suddenly agitated and lost the thread of +his discourse. + +Mordaunt had laid down his brushes to listen. His eyes were gravely +attentive. They held no indignation. "Go on," he said again. "You are +quite right to use strong language if you consider the occasion requires +it." + +But Noel's flow of language had failed him. He sprang suddenly at his +brother-in-law, and caught him by the shoulders. "Oh, do stop it, old +chap!" he urged, with husky vehemence. "We all of us rely on you. And if +you fail us--can't you see we're done for?" + +Mordaunt looked down at him with a faint smile. "Perhaps I had better +tell you what has happened," he said. "The trouble at the present moment +is that Bertrand has robbed me, and has left in consequence." + +"Great Scotland!" ejaculated Noel. "How much did he take?" + +"Five hundred pounds. That's a detail of small consequence." Mordaunt +spoke with grim precision. "It has upset Chris--quite naturally. But even +you can hardly hold me responsible for that." + +"I should think not! I say, I'm sorry I spoke." Impetuously Noel hugged +him to obliterate the effect of his words. "I'm a silly ass. You mustn't +mind me. Do you know, I always thought he would somehow, though Chris was +so keen on him." + +"I was keen on him too," Mordaunt observed, without much humour. + +"I'm awfully sorry, old chap. It's a bit of a facer for you. But, you +know, you can't trust foreigners. It doesn't do. There was that chap at +Valpré. He simply bewitched Chris. She never would hear a word against +him, but I'm sure he was a bounder. I've often thought since that he +probably manoeuvred that cave business. They're such a wily lot, these +Frenchies." + +"What cave business?" There was a hint of sharpness in Mordaunt's voice; +his brows were drawn. + +Noel looked surprised. "Why, the time they got hung up by the tide all +night. Mean to say you never heard of it? Oh, my eye!" he broke off +blankly. "Then I've let the cat out of the bag!" + +"Don't distress yourself. It is of no importance." Mordaunt's tone was +suddenly very deliberate. He turned away and began to put on his coat. +"Are you ready for luncheon? I'm going down now." + +Noel surveyed him doubtfully. "You won't let on I told you, will you?" he +said uneasily. "Chris may have asked me to keep it dark." + +"I don't suppose she did." Very quietly Mordaunt made reply. "She has +more probably forgotten all about it. But I won't give you away in any +case. You are ready? Then suppose we go!" + +They descended together to find Aunt Philippa and Chris awaiting them in +the hall. Chris scarcely looked at her husband. She was very pale. + +He followed her to her end of the table to pour her out a glass of wine. + +"Please don't!" she said nervously. "I don't like it. I can't drink it." + +"I think you can," he answered. "Try!" + +He went to his own place, and proceeded to engage Aunt Philippa in +conversation. But Aunt Philippa was looking even more severe than usual, +and responded so indifferently to his efforts that he presently suffered +them to flag. There fell a dead silence. Then Noel struck in with furious +zest, and Mordaunt turned to him with relief. But Chris scarcely opened +her lips. + +At the end of the meal he addressed her with quiet authority. "Chris, you +must rest this afternoon. Your aunt will excuse you." + +"Certainly," said Aunt Philippa stiffly. + +Chris rose from the table in unbroken silence. She came slowly down the +long room. Mordaunt got up to open the door, and followed her out. + +"Don't worry about me, please!" Chris besought him as he closed the door +behind them. "I shall be all right to-morrow." + +He ignored the protest, and accompanied her upstairs. She glanced at him +uneasily as they went. "I can't help being--unhappy just for to-day," she +murmured. "You--you couldn't expect me--not to care?" + +He did not speak till they reached her room. Then: "You saw Bertrand," he +said, in a tone that was hardly a question. + +"Yes." She began to tremble a little. "I am sorry," she said. "But--I had +to." She stood before him, not meeting his eyes, waiting for him to +speak. "I couldn't let him go--for good--without saying good-bye," she +said, as he remained silent. + +He took her gently by the shoulders. "Chris, look at me!" + +She drew back, yet in a moment with a desperate effort she raised her +eyes to his. He laid his hand upon her forehead, and looked at her long +and searchingly. + +She endured the look in quivering silence, but she turned so deathly pale +under it that he thought she would faint. Quietly he let her go. + +"You will lie down now?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered, under her breath. + +"Don't be in a hurry to get up," he said. "I will explain to your aunt +that I do not wish you to be disturbed, and I shall see her off myself." + +He went to the windows and drew the curtains. She watched him silently. +As he turned back into the room, she spoke. + +"Trevor, are you angry with me?" + +He paused, as if the question were unexpected. "No," he said, after a +moment. + +Her eyes shone unnaturally bright in the twilight. "You understand +that--that I couldn't obey your wishes about not seeing--Bertrand--before +he left?" + +"I did not forbid you to see him," he said. + +"But--you are vexed because I did," she persisted. + +He came quietly back to her. "I believe you did the only thing possible +to you," he said, in a tone she could not fathom. "Therefore there is no +more to be said. Won't you lie down?" + +She complied without further words. He covered her with a rug, but she +shivered under it as one with an ague. He brought a quilt, and laid that +also over her. + +She reached out then, and caught his hand. "Trevor, forgive me!" + +He bent over her. "My dear, I am not angry with you." + +"Ah, but--but--" She broke off helplessly; there was something about him +that unnerved her. Suddenly and inexplicably the longing surged over her +to be caught to his breast and held there safe from all the tumult, the +misery, the vain regrets, that tortured her quivering soul. But she could +not tell him so, could not bring herself to pour out all the truth. For +the first time she saw how wide was the gulf that had opened between +them--that gulf which he had tried in vain to span the night before--and +her heart died within her. She knew that she was powerless, that now in +the hour of her adversity, now when she felt her need of a protector and +comforter as never before, she dared not confide in him, dared not throw +herself upon his mercy, and trust to his generosity to understand and to +forgive. + +And so she could only hold his hand very tightly, too agitated to utter +any plea, afraid to keep him, yet even more afraid to let him go, lest, +apart from her, that dread gulf should widen into an abyss too terrible +for contemplation. + +He waited for a little beside her, to give her agitation time to subside. +But it only increased till it became so painfully obvious that he could +ignore it no longer. + +"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked her gently. "I am +quite ready to listen to you. Only don't be so distressed. Really there +is no need." + +His tone was perfectly kind, but the caressing note she was wont to hear +in it was absent. She shivered afresh, conscious of a chill. She could +not answer him; her throat seemed incapable of producing sound. + +A while longer, with absolute patience, he waited. Then; "I think you +must let me go, dear," he said. "I am doing you more harm than good just +now. By and bye, when you are calmer, we will have a talk." + +And so by his very forbearance he committed the greatest mistake of his +life. If he had stayed then, she might have been persuaded to tell him +all that was in her heart. But--the bitter irony of it!--though she was +possessed by a passionate longing to do so, in face of his quiet +restraint she could not. In fear of the physical effect upon her, he held +her back. And she was powerless to pass the barrier. Without his +supporting tenderness, she could not lay bare to him the misery and the +pain which in no other way could be relieved. + +She loosened her hold upon his hand, and as he gently withdrew it she +felt as if her last chance of peace were taken away. She turned her face +into the pillow and lay still, and a moment later the soft closing of the +door told her he had gone. + +She listened to his quiet tread along the passage, and an overwhelming +sense of desolation swept over her. He had left her alone to cope with +her trouble, and the burden of it was greater than she could bear. + +She did not know that he returned a little later and listened for many +seconds at the door, fearing that she might be spending her solitude in +tears. She never heard him there, or even then her tragedy might have +been lifted from her. She was lying quite still, with clenched hands, +staring dry-eyed into space; for she had no tears to shed. + +And he, deeming her sleeping, went softly away again, to sit on the +terrace and await Aunt Philippa, who had retired to make her final +preparations. + +A long time passed before she made her appearance, and he was beginning +to wonder with some uneasiness if she had decided to postpone her +departure after all, when at length she joined him, ready dressed for the +journey. She sat down beside him, looking very handsome and dignified. + +"I am glad of this opportunity of seeing you alone, my dear Trevor," she +began, "as, after long deliberation, I have at last decided to take you +into my confidence upon a matter that has been greatly troubling me." + +Mordaunt laid aside the proof of an article with which he had been +occupying himself, and replied with his customary courtesy, "I am always +glad if I can be of use to you." + +"Thank you," said Aunt Philippa. + +She carried a bag upon her wrist, and she proceeded to open and search +within it. Finally she extracted, a piece of folded notepaper, and handed +it to him. + +"Will you read that first?" she said. "It will make a difficult task +easier." + +Mordaunt took the paper, saw that it was a letter, and proceeded to read +it under her watching eyes. + +There followed a long, quiet pause before he said, "I presume that this +is not addressed to you." + +"There," said Aunt Philippa, "you are quite correct." + +"Then--" He folded it sharply, and made as if he would hand it back to +her, but altered his purpose and closed his fingers upon it instead. +"Will you explain?" he said. + +Aunt Philippa proceeded to do so in her most judicial manner. "That +letter I found on the terrace yesterday morning and, believing it to be +one of my own that had blown out of my window, I picked it up and later +placed it in my letter-case. In the evening I took it out with the +intention of answering my correspondent, but upon perusing it, I +discovered it to be the communication which you hold in your hand. As you +perceive, it was written from Sandacre Court about a week ago, and I now +realize that it is not the first letter which the writer has sent to this +house. You may remember a discussion arising one morning on the subject +of a letter from Sandacre Court. That letter, I am now convinced, was +written by the same hand, and these facts point to the very unpleasant +conclusion that the man who wrote them--Guillaume Rodolphe--has been +levying blackmail. He is apparently aware of a most unfortunate episode +which occurred at Valpré in Chris's early girlhood--" + +Mordaunt held up his hand abruptly; his face was set in iron lines. "I +have already heard of the episode to which you refer," he said. + +"Indeed!" said Aunt Philippa. "And may I ask how long you have been aware +of it?" + +He hesitated momentarily. "Is that material?" + +"I think it is," she rejoined. "If Chris has brought herself even at the +eleventh hour to be open with you, none will rejoice more sincerely than +I. It has always been my principle that wives should have no secrets from +their husbands. But, knowing her as I do, I question very much if this +can be the case. I have remonstrated with her myself upon the subject, +but she refused so stubbornly to listen to me that I cannot but feel that +the time has come for me to take my own measures. I should not be doing +my duty otherwise. Painful as it is to me, I feel it incumbent upon me to +tell you the truth. Now, my dear Trevor, are you aware that there has +to-day been a scene between your wife and your secretary which I can only +describe as--a love passage? Has she confessed this to you? Because, if +not, you must no longer remain in ignorance of the true state of affairs. +Chris has deceived me throughout in the most flagrant manner. Had I +known--as I now know--that the man who caused the Valpré scandal and your +secretary, Bertrand de Montville, a criminal exile living upon your +charity, were one and the same person, I would never have permitted you +to marry my niece and expose her afresh to a temptation which she had +already shown herself unable to resist." + +Her last words were somewhat hurried, for Mordaunt had risen to his feet, +and there was that in his eyes that warned her that if she paused for a +single instant they would never be uttered at all. And Aunt Philippa +never liked to leave a task unfinished. That which she undertook she +invariably carried through undeviatingly, whatever the cost, and +notwithstanding any adverse circumstances which might arise during its +accomplishment. + +She finished her sentence therefore, and then resigned herself to the +martyrdom of being grossly misunderstood. + +For that he utterly misread her motives was apparent from his very +expression, even before he said with extreme deliberation: "Mrs. Forest, +you will oblige me very greatly by not pursuing this subject any further. +As I said to you before, Chris is in my keeping now, and it will be my +first care to see that no harm comes to her. As to my secretary, he has +left me for good, and I doubt if I ever see him again." + +"I see," said Aunt Philippa. "You have quarrelled with him then?" + +"I have." Sternly he made reply. He still held the note she had given him +crumpled in his hand. + +Aunt Philippa stiffened her neck severely. "And you left them alone to +say good-bye! My dear Trevor, are you mad, or only criminally indifferent +to your own interests?" + +"I am neither," he said. + +"And do you know what happened?" + +"I do not wish to know." + +She contemplated him for a moment in silence, then: "Your own servant has +more common sense," she said. + +"Do you mean Holmes?" He spoke with absolute composure, not as one +vitally interested; but his eyes made her nervous, they were so still and +intent. + +"I do mean Holmes," she said. "He came to me in the course of the morning +and informed me that his mistress was under the yew-tree and wanted me. I +thought his message unusual at the time. When I went out to the yew-tree +about ten minutes later, I understood the meaning of it. They were +together there, in each other's arms. I did not interrupt them, for I +felt it my duty to ascertain, if possible, how far the mischief had gone. +But I was not successful. The interview came to an end almost at once. He +knelt down upon the ground and kissed her hands, after which he got up +and went away. I did not hear what he said to her, but it was certainly +no word of farewell. Personally I am convinced that his leave-taking was +not final. As for Chris herself, she seemed dazed, and I left her to +recover." + +Aunt Philippa paused. He had not interrupted her, but she did not feel +his silence to be reassuring. She found it impossible to meet his look +any longer, though she made a valiant effort to do so. + +"I hope you will believe," she said, after a moment, "that nothing but a +most urgent sense of duty has impelled me to tell you this." + +He did not answer, and she began to flounder a little, finding his +silence hard to fathom. + +"I felt that you ought to be upon your guard. As I have told you before, +not one of the Wyndhams is to be trusted. I think you have been too +generous in this respect, and have laid yourself open to deception. +However--now that I have warned you once more, you will perhaps be more +careful in the future. I can only hope that my warning has come in time." + +Again she paused, but still he remained silent, looking straight at her +with a steely regard that never altered. + +She mustered her forces at length to ask a direct question. "What do you +propose to do with regard to that letter you hold in your hand?" + +With a quiet movement he transferred it to his pocket. "I have not had +time to consider the matter," he said. + +She was momentarily surprised, and showed it. "I thought you would know +what to do at once," she said. "It was, in fact, my reason for telling +you of it. I felt that something ought to be done--and quickly." + +"Something will be done," Mordaunt answered quietly. "You have placed the +matter in my hands, and I shall deal with it. I think I need not ask you +to refrain from mentioning it to anyone else?" + +"You need not," said Aunt Philippa with dignity. + +"Thank you. And that is all you wish to say to me?" + +She met his steady eyes for an instant and at once looked away again. +"All," she replied, "except that I think it was a great pity that you +refused so persistently to profit by my former warning. It might have +averted much trouble both for yourself and for Chris." + +He made her a slight bow. "I fear I am not unique," he said, "in +preferring to conduct my own affairs in my own way." + +When Aunt Philippa took her departure that afternoon it was in a most +unwonted state of doubt, not unmingled with apprehension. Despite his +moderation, she had an uneasy feeling that her communication to Trevor +Mordaunt had set in motion a devastating force which nothing could arrest +or divert until it had spread destruction over all that lay in its path. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE TRUTH + + +In answer to her husband's low knock, Chris turned from her +dressing-table. She had switched on the electric light, and had taken +down her hair, preparatory to dressing for dinner. It hung all about her +in magnificent ripples of ruddy light and shade. Her face, in the midst +of it, looked very small and tired. She was clad in a plain white +wrapper, that fell away from her neck and arms, giving her a very +childish appearance. + +"Yes, I'm getting up," she said, with the flicker of a smile. "I couldn't +sleep." + +He entered and closed the door behind him in silence. + +"Has Aunt Philippa gone?" she asked. + +He responded briefly, "Three hours ago." + +"Ah!" She stretched out her arms with the gesture of one freed from an +irksome burden, but they fell again immediately, almost as if a fresh +burden had taken its place. + +She stood for a few seconds motionless, looking straight before her. +Finally, with a hint of nervousness, she turned her eyes upon her +husband; they shone intensely blue in the strong light. + +"We shall soon be quite alone," she said. + +His eyes did not answer hers. They looked remote and cold. "Come and sit +down," he said. + +He seated himself on the couch from which she had just risen. Chris +caught up a slide from the dressing-table, and fastened back her hair +with fingers that trembled inexplicably. + +Then she went to him. "Trevor," she said, and there was pleading in her +voice, "do you know, I don't want to talk about anything. I think one +gets over some troubles best that way. Do you mind?" + +He took her wrists very quietly, and drew her down beside him. "What were +you trying to tell me this afternoon?" he said. + +She shivered and turned her face away. "Nothing, really nothing. I was +foolish and upset. Please let me forget it." + +She would have withdrawn from his hold, but his hands tightened upon her. +"Won't you reconsider the matter?" he asked. "It would be better for us +both if you told me of your own accord." + +"Trevor!" She turned to him swiftly, flashing into his face a look of +such wild alarm that he was touched, in spite of himself. + +"My dear," he said, "I have no wish to frighten you. But you must see for +yourself that it is utterly impossible for us to go on like this. You are +keeping something from me. I want you to tell me quite quietly and +without prevarication what it is." + +She turned white to the lips. "There is nothing, Trevor. Indeed, there is +nothing," she said. + +His face changed, grew stern, grew implacable. He bent towards her, still +holding her firmly by the wrists. He looked closely into her eyes, and in +his own was neither accusation nor condemnation, only a deep and awful +questioning that seemed to probe her through and through. + +"For Heaven's sake," he said, "don't lie to me!" + +And Chris shrank, shrank from that dread scrutiny as she would have +shrunk from naked steel. She did not attempt to speak another word. + +For seconds that seemed to her agonized senses like hours, he held her +so, waiting, waiting for she knew not what. Her heart thumped within her +like the heart of a terrified creature fleeing for its life. She began to +pant audibly through the silence. The strain was more than she could +bear. + +"Chris!" he said. + +She started violently; every pulse leaped, every nerve jarred. But she +did not lift her eyes to his; she could not. + +"Don't tremble," he said, his voice very cold and even. "Just tell me the +truth. Begin with what happened at Valpré." + +Her white lips quivered. "What--how much--do you know?" + +"I will tell you that," he said, "when you have answered me quite fully +and unreservedly." + +She cast an imploring look at him that did not reach his eyes. "But, +Trevor, nothing happened," she told him piteously. "That is to say, +nothing beyond--" She broke off short. "I was only a child. I didn't +know," she ended, in a confused murmur. + +"What didn't you know?" Stern and pitiless came the question. His hands +were holding her wrists tightly locked. There was compulsion in their +grasp. + +She answered him because she could not help it, but her words were +wild and incoherent. "I didn't know what it meant. I didn't see the harm +of it. I was too young. It all happened before I realized. And even +then--even then--I didn't understand--that it was serious--until--until-- +the duel. Trevor--Trevor, you are hurting me!" + +His hold relaxed, but he did not set her free. "Was that duel fought on +your account?" he asked. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"In what way?" + +She was silent. + +"Answer me," he said. + +She clenched her hands in sudden, strenuous rebellion. "I don't know. I +never heard." + +"Was it because you had compromised yourself with Bertrand de Montville?" + +Very deliberately he asked the question, so deliberately that she could +not evade it. + +"It is not fair to--to put it like that," she said. + +"I am waiting to hear your own version," he told her grimly. + +"You have only heard Aunt Philippa's, so far?" she hazarded. + +"I have heard nothing whatever about what happened at Valpré from your +aunt," he answered. "But that is beside the point. Are you quite +incapable of telling me the truth?" + +She winced sharply. "Trevor! Why are you so cruel? I have done nothing +wrong." + +"Then look at me!" he said. + +But she would not, for his eyes terrified her. Nor could she bring +herself to speak of Valpré under their piercing scrutiny. Only +close-locked in his arms could she have poured out the poor little secret +that she had sacrificed so much to keep. Not the nature of the adventure +itself, but the fact that she had given her love to the man who had +shared it with her, held her silent. She could not spread her love before +those pitiless eyes, and to disclose the one without the other had become +impossible to her. + +And so she remained silent, counting the seconds as she felt his +forbearance ebb away. + +When at last he moved and released her, she cowered almost as if she +expected a blow. Yet when he spoke, though there was in his tone a subtle +difference, his words came with absolute composure. She could almost have +imagined that he was smiling. + +"Since you refuse to be open with me," he said, "you compel me to draw my +own conclusions. Now, with regard to this letter which you received a +week ago from Captain Rodolphe--you have another letter from him +somewhere in your possession?" + +He took the missive from his pocket and opened it as if he would read it +again. But the sight was too much for Chris. It tortured her beyond +endurance, galvanizing her into sudden, unconsidered action. She snatched +it from him and tore it passionately into fragments. + +"You shall not!" she cried. "You shall not!" + +With the words she sprang to her feet, and stood before him, goaded to +frenzy, challenging his calm. + +"Where did you find it?" she demanded. + +"It was found on the terrace," he said. + +She flung out a trembling hand. "Ah! Then I dropped it that night that my +dress caught fire. I thought it was burnt. And you found it--you dared to +read it!" + +He did not attempt to explain his action. Perhaps he realized he +was more likely to obtain the truth from her thus than by endless +cross-questioning. "Yes, I have read it," he said. + +She made a desperate gesture. "And because of this--because of +this--you--you accuse me of--" + +"I have accused you of nothing," he said sternly. "I have only asked you +to tell me the truth. I hoped you would do so of your own free will, but +since you will not--" + +"Yes?" she cried back. "Since I will not--?" + +"I shall find another means," he answered. + +He rose abruptly. They stood face to face. There was no shrinking about +Chris now. She was braced to defiance. + +"Where is that other letter?" he said. + +"I have destroyed it." + +She uttered the words with quivering triumph, strung to a fever-pitch of +excitement in which fear had no part. + +His eyes went to her jewel-drawer. + +"It is not there," she said. "The letter I hid there was the one you have +just read." + +She spoke rapidly, but she was no longer incoherent. Her words came +without effort, and he knew that she was telling the truth as the victim +in a torture-chamber might tell it, because she was goaded thereto and +incapable at the moment of doing otherwise. He also knew that, +notwithstanding this, she was scarcely aware of what she said. Out of the +agony of her soul, because the pain was unbearable, she had yielded +without knowing it. + +"I only kept this letter," she said, "in case he ever asked for more. But +it doesn't matter now--nothing will ever matter any more. You know the +worst, and"--fiercely--"you are welcome to know it. I--I'm even glad! +I've nothing left to be afraid of." + +She drew in her breath hysterically. She was on the verge of dreadful +laughter, but she caught it back, instinctively aware that she must keep +her strength--this unwonted strength of desperation that had come +to her--as long as possible. + +He heard her without emotion. His face was grim and mask-like, frozen +into hard, unyielding lines. + +"It is certainly best that I should know it," he said. "But I have not +yet heard all. How much did this Rodolphe charge for his silence?" + +She had almost answered him before she remembered, and checked the words +upon her lips. "No, I don't think I need tell you that," she said. + +"That is better than telling me a lie," he rejoined. "As a matter of +fact, there is no need, as you say, for you to tell me. I know what sum +he asked for, and I know how he obtained it." + +He spoke with steady conviction, his eyes unwaveringly upon her. For +seconds now she had endured his look without flinching. As she had said, +there was nothing left for her to fear. But at his words her face +changed, and unmistakable apprehension took the place of despair. + +"No, no!" she said quickly. "He did not obtain it in that way. At +least--at least--Trevor, I swear to you that Bertrand knew nothing of +that." + +"You need not take that trouble," he said coldly. + +She gripped her hands together. "You don't believe me--but it is the +truth. Bertrand never knew that I had heard from Captain Rodolphe." + +"You deceived him too, then?" Pitilessly he asked the question. He also +had begun to feel that nothing could ever matter any more. + +She wrung her hands in anguish. Her face was still raised to his, white +and strained and desperate--the face of a woman who would never dissemble +with him again. "Yes," she said, "I deceived him too." + +"Then"--slowly he uttered the words--"it was you who forged my name upon +that cheque? It actually was you whom he was shielding? And you tell me +that he did not know what it was for?" + +"He did not know," she said. She would not have given such an explanation +of her own volition at that moment, but--since upon this point she could +not tell him the truth--it was simpler to let it pass. What did it +matter, after all? Let him think her a thief also if he would! She was +past caring what he thought. + +"And when do you expect to meet again?" Mordaunt asked, with great +distinctness. + +She flinched as if he had struck her. "Oh, haven't you tortured me +enough?" she said. + +His jaw hardened. He stepped suddenly to her and took her by the +shoulders. His eyes appalled her. It was as if a devil looked out of +them. She shrank away from him in sheer physical terror. + +"Oh, you needn't be afraid," he said. "I shan't hurt you. Why should I? +You are nothing to me. But--for the last time--let me hear you speak the +truth. You love this man?" + +The words, curt and cold, might have fallen from the lips of a stranger, +so impersonal were they, so utterly devoid of any emotion. + +Wide-eyed, she faced him, for she could not look away with his hands upon +her, compelling her. + +"You love this man?" he repeated, his speech still cold but incisive--a +sharp weapon probing for the truth. + +She caught her quivering nerves together, and valiantly answered him. "I +do!" she said. "I do!" And as she spoke, the power within her surged +upwards, defying constraint, dominating her with a mastery irresistible. +She suddenly stripped her heart bare of all reserve and showed him the +love that agonized there. "I have always loved him!" she said. "I shall +love him till I die!" + +It was a woman's confession, in which triumph and anguish were strangely +mingled. In a calmer moment she would never have made it, but that moment +was supreme, and she had no choice. Regardless of all consequences, she +told the burning truth. She would have told it with his hands upon her +throat. + +In the silence that followed the avowal she even waited for violence. But +she was unafraid. The greatness of the power that possessed her had +lifted her above all fear. She trod the heights where fear is not. And +all-unconsciously, in that moment she won a battle which she had deemed +irrevocably lost. + +Mordaunt's hands fell from her, setting her free. "In Heaven's name," he +said, "why didn't you go with him?" + +She did not understand his tone. It held neither anger nor contempt, and +so quiet was it that she could still have fancied it almost indifferent. +Yet, inexplicably, it cut her to the heart. + +"I'll tell you the truth!" she said, a little wildly. "I--I would have +gone with him. I offered--I begged--to go. But he--he sent me back." + +"Why?" Again that deadly quietness of utterance, as though, indeed, a +dead man spoke. + +Her throat began to work spasmodically, though she had no desire to weep. +She felt as if her heart were bleeding from a mortal wound. + +With an effort that nearly choked her, she made reply. + +"He said--it was--my duty." + +"Your duty!" He repeated the word deliberately. Though the devil had gone +out of his eyes, she could not meet them any longer. Not that she feared +to do so; but the pain at her heart was intolerable, and it was his look, +his voice, that made it so. + +Almost as if he divined this, he turned quietly from her. He walked to +the window and opened it wide, as if he felt suffocated. The wind was +moaning desolately through the trees. There was the scent of coming rain +in the air. + +He spoke with his back to her, without apparent effort. "I release you +from your duty," he said. "Go to him! Go to him--now!" + +She gazed at him, dumbfounded, not breathing. But he remained motionless, +his hands clenched, his face to the night. + +"Go to him!" he repeated. "I shall set you free--at once. Go--and tell +him so!" + +Then, as still she neither moved nor spoke, he slowly turned and looked +at her. + +From head to foot she felt his eyes comprehend her, and from head to +foot, under his look, she shuddered. She spoke no word; she was as one +paralysed. + +Very quietly he pulled the window to behind him, still with his eyes upon +her. In that moment he was complete master of himself. He stood aloof, +shrouded, as it were, in an icy calm. She had no clue to his thoughts. +She only knew that by some means, inexplicable and irresistible, he bound +her even as he set her free. + +"You understand me?" he said, his voice cold, level, pitilessly distinct. +"It is my last word upon the subject. You and I have done with each +other. Go!" + +It was literally his last word. As he uttered it, his eyes fell away from +her. He crossed the room with even, unhurried tread, opened the +intervening door that led into his own, passed through with no backward +glance, and shut it steadily behind him. + +As for Chris, she stood numbly gazing after him till only the panels of +the door met her look. And then, her strength leaving her, without sound +she sank downwards and lay crumpled, inanimate, broken, upon the floor. + + + + +PART IV + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE REFUGEE + + +Autumn on a Yorkshire moor. + +Hilda Davenant leaned back and looked from her sketch to the moor with +slight dissatisfaction in her calm eyes. + +"What's the matter with it?" said Lord Percy. + +He was lying in the faded heather beside her, sucking grass-stems with +bovine enjoyment. He surveyed the faint pucker on his wife's forehead +with lazy amusement. + +She looked down at him. "It isn't nearly good enough." + +He laughed comfortably. "Put it away! It'll do for my birthday. I shan't +look at it from an artist's point of view." + +She smiled a little. "Oh, any daub would do for you. You simply don't +know what art is." + +"Exactly," he rejoined tranquilly. "Any daub will do, provided your hand +lays on the colours. But nothing less than that would satisfy me. Come! +Isn't that a pretty speech? And you didn't angle for it either!" He +caught her hand and rubbed it against his cheek. "You are civilizing me +wonderfully," he declared. "I never knew how to make pretty speeches +before I met you." + +"Surely I never taught you that!" she protested. "I am never guilty of +empty compliments myself." + +"Nor I," smiled her husband. "I say what I think to you always. Now what +do you say to coming for a stretch? There's an hour left before I need +buzz down to the station and meet Jack. You will admit I have been very +good and patient all this time. Pack up your painting things, and I'll +trek back to the house with them." + +"No. We will go together," Hilda said. "Why not?" + +"I thought you would prefer to sit and admire the landscape," he said. + +She smiled and made no response. + +"A case in point!" laughed Lord Percy. "But here the compliment would not +have been empty since you obviously prefer my company to the solitude of +a Yorkshire moor." + +She looked at him with the smile still in her eyes, but she did not put +the compliment into words. Only, as she rose to leave the scene of her +labours, she slipped her hand within his arm. + +"I have been thinking a great deal of Chris lately," she said. "I wish +she would write to me again." + +"I thought your mother was there," said Lord Percy. + +"She has been. I believe she left them yesterday. But then, she does not +give me any detailed news of Chris. I have a feeling that I can't get rid +of that the child is unhappy." + +"She has no right to be," rejoined her husband. "She's married about the +best fellow going." + +"Who understands her about as thoroughly as you understand art." + +"Oh, come!" he remonstrated. "Mordaunt is not quite such a fool as that! +The little monkey ought to be happy enough--unless she tries to play fast +and loose with him. Then, I grant you, there would be the devil to pay." + +Hilda smiled. "I can't help feeling anxious about her. It has always been +my fear that, when the glamour of first love is past, Trevor might +misjudge her. She is so gay and bright that many people think her empty. +I know my mother does for one." + +"Your mother might," he conceded. "Trevor wouldn't--being a man of +considerable insight. Tell you what, though, if you want to satisfy +yourself on the score of Chris's happiness, we will get them to put us up +for a night when we leave here for town three weeks hence. How will that +suit you?" + +"I should love it, of course," she said. "But wouldn't it be rather far +out of our way?" + +"I daresay the car won't mind," said Lord Percy. + +They walked back to the house that a friend had lent for their +three-months' honeymoon. It nestled in a hollow amongst trees, the long +line of moors stretching above it. They were well out of the beaten +track. Few tourists penetrated to their paradise. Near the house was a +glade with a miniature waterfall that filled the place with music. + +"That waterfall makes for laziness," Lord Percy was wont to declare, and +many were the happy hours they had spent beside it. + +They passed it by without lingering to-day, however, for both were +feeling energetic. Briskly they crossed the little lawn before the house, +and entered by a French window. + +"Better secure some refreshments before we go on the tramp," suggested +Lord Percy. "I've got a thirst already. Hullo! What on earth--" + +He broke off in amazement. A slight figure had risen up suddenly from a +settee in a dark corner; and a woman's face, wild-eyed and tragic, +confronted them. + +"Great Scott! Who is it?" said Lord Percy Davenant. + +And "Chris!" exclaimed Hilda, at the same moment. + +As for Chris, she stood a second, staring at them; then: "Trevor has +turned me out, so I've come to you," she said her white lips moving +stiffly. "I've nowhere else to go." + +With the words she stumbled forward, feeling vaguely out before her as +though she saw not. Hilda started towards her on the instant, caught her, +folded warm arms about her, held her fast. + +"My darling!" she said, and again, "My darling!" + +But Chris heard not, nor saw, nor felt. She had reached the end of her +strength, and black darkness had closed down upon her agony, blotting out +all things. She sank senseless in her cousin's embrace.... + +It was long before they brought her back, so long that Hilda became +frightened and dispatched her husband in the motor for a doctor, wholly +forgetting her brother's expected visit in her anxiety. + +Lord Percy ultimately returned with the local practitioner, whom he had +dragged almost by force from the bedside of a patient ten miles away. He, +too, had forgotten Jack, but remembered him as he set down the doctor, +and whirled away again in a cloud of dust, leaving him to announce +himself. + +Chris had by that time recovered consciousness, in response to Hilda's +strenuous efforts, but she had scarcely spoken a word. She lay on the +sofa in the drawing-room, cold from head to foot, and shivering +spasmodically at intervals. She drank the wine that Hilda brought her +with shuddering docility; but it seemed to have no effect upon her. It +was as if the blood had frozen at her very heart. + +"Get her to bed," were the doctor's orders, and he himself carried Chris +up to Hilda's room. + +She was perfectly passive in their hands, but quite incapable of the +smallest effort, and so painfully apathetic that Hilda grew more and more +uneasy. She had never imagined that her gay, light-hearted Chris could be +thus. It wrung her heart to see her. She was like a dainty flower crushed +into the dust of the highway. + +"Nervous prostration consequent upon severe mental strain," was the +doctor's verdict later. "You will have to take great care of her, and +keep her absolutely quiet, or I can't be answerable for the consequences. +She is in a very critical state, and"--he paused a moment--"I think her +husband ought to be with her." + +"Ah!" Hilda said, and no more. + +He passed the matter over. "Don't let her talk at all if you can prevent +it, and reassure her in every way possible. I will send a composing +draught, or she will be in a high fever before the morning." + +"You fear for the brain?" Hilda hazarded. + +"I fear--many things," he answered uncompromisingly. + +He took his departure just as Lord Percy and his guest arrived, and Hilda +paused upon the step to greet her brother. + +He sprang from the car before it came to a standstill, and she saw on the +instant that he was in a towering fury. Jack Forest, the kindly, the +easy-going, the careless, was actually white with anger. + +He scarcely stopped to greet her. "Where is Chris?" he demanded. + +"She is in bed," Hilda answered, seeing he had heard the whole story. +"No," as he turned inwards, "you can't see her. Indeed you mustn't, Jack. +The doctor says--" + +"Damn the doctor!" said Jack. "I'm going to see her, in bed or not. Where +is she?" + +He was half-way upstairs with the words, and Hilda's protest fell upon +empty air. She could only follow and look on. + +Jack opened the first door he came to, and found himself in Chris's +presence. He strode straight across the room, as one who had a perfect +right, stooped over her as she lay, and gathered her up into his arms. + +"My little sweetheart!" he said, and kissed her fiercely over and over +again. + +That woke her from her lethargy, as no more tender ministrations could +have done. She wound her arms about his neck, and clung to him like a +lost child. + +"Oh, Jack!" she said. "Oh, Jack!" and burst into an agony of tears. + +Hilda closed the door softly, and went away. Jack's treatment seemed the +best, after all. + +When she saw him again he was quite calm, but there was about him a +grimness of purpose with which she was not familiar. He drew her aside. + +"Look here! I can't sleep on this. I'm going to see Trevor--at once. If I +don't bring him to reason, I shall probably shoot him; but I haven't told +her that. All she wants is to be left in peace, and peace she shall have, +whatever the cost." + +"But, my dear boy, quarrelling with Trevor on her behalf won't make for +peace," Hilda ventured to point out. + +He acknowledged the truth of this with a brief nod. "All the same, I'm +damned if I'll stand by and see him wreck her life. Let me know how she +goes on. Send a wire to the club to-morrow. No, don't! I'll wire to you +first, and let you know where I am. I'm going straight back to the +station now. With any luck I ought to catch the afternoon express. +Where's Percy?" + +"You must have something to eat," urged Hilda. "You've had nothing +whatever." + +He frowned impatiently. "Oh, rats! I can feed on board. I shan't starve." + +But she knew, with sure intuition, that the moment he was out of her +presence all thought of refreshment would leave his mind. + +She saw him go, and then returned to Chris. + +She found her sitting up in bed, rocking herself to and fro, and crying, +crying, crying, the tears of utter despair. But this distress, despite +its violence, was better--Hilda knew it instinctively--than her former +cold inertia. She gathered her to her breast, and held her close pressed +till her anguish had somewhat spent itself. + +By degrees and haltingly the story of Chris's tragedy was unfolded. + +"I've told Jack everything," she said at last. "And now I've told you, +but we won't ever talk about it any more. Jack is going to see Trevor, +and--and try to make him understand. I didn't want him to, but he would +do it. But he has promised me that Trevor shan't follow me here. Do you +think he will be able to prevent him? Do you? Do you?" + +She shuddered afresh uncontrollably at the bare thought, and Hilda had +some difficulty in calming her. + +"Dearest, I am sure he will never come to you against your will," she +said, with conviction. "I am sure you needn't be afraid. But oh, Chris, +my darling, he is your husband. Always remember that!" + +"I know! I know!" Feverishly Chris made answer, and Hilda knew that +she must not pursue this subject. "But I can never see him again, +never--never--never! I think it would kill me. Besides--besides--" She +broke off inarticulately, and Hilda did not press her to finish. + +She found that she must not speak much of Bertrand either, though she did +venture to ask why the Valpré escapade had ever been kept from Trevor in +the first place. + +"I really can't quite explain," Chris answered wearily. "When it dawned +on me that vile things had been said and actually a duel fought because +of it I felt as if I would rather die than let him know. Besides, at the +back of my mind, I think I somehow always knew--though I did not +realize--that--Bertie--came first with me, and I--I was terrified lest +Trevor should suspect it. Of course it doesn't matter now," she ended. +"He knows it all, and--as he says--we have done with each other." She +uttered a long, quivering sigh, and turned her face into the pillow. + +"My darling, so long as you both live, that can never be," Hilda said +very earnestly. "Whatever mistakes you have made, you are still his and +he is yours. Nothing can alter that." + +"He doesn't think so," said Chris. "In fact, he--he told me to go to +Bertie, so that--so that"--she shivered again--"he could set me free." + +"Oh, Chris, he did--that?" + +"Yes, I think he meant it for my sake as much as for his own. But I +couldn't do it. You see, I don't know where Bertie has gone for one +thing. And then--I know Bertie would have thought it wrong. You see"--the +tears were running down her face again--"we love each other so much, +and--and love like ours is holy. He said so." + +"I wonder how he learned that," Hilda said. "It is not a creed that most +men hold." + +"But Bertie is not like most men." Very softly came Chris's answer, and +through her tears her eyes shone with the light that is kindled by +nothing earthly. "Bertie has come through a great deal of suffering," she +said. "It has taught him to know the good from the bad. And--he said I +shouldn't be ruined for his sake. As if I cared for that!" she ended, +smiling wanly. + +"Thank God he did for you!" Hilda said. + +"Oh, do you think it matters?" said Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A MIDNIGHT VISITOR + + +It was a dark, wet night. The rain streamed from the gutters and pattered +desolately on the pavement below. It had rained for hours. + +Trevor Mordaunt sat alone, with a pipe between his teeth, his windows +flung wide to the empty street, and listened to the downpour. He had +arrived in town that afternoon to make a few necessary arrangements +before leaving England. These arrangements completed, there was nothing +left to do but to await the next morning for departure. + +It was not easy, that waiting. He faced it with grim fortitude, realizing +the futility of going to bed. It was possible that he might presently +doze in his chair, but ordinary sleep was out of the question, and he +would not trouble himself to court it. Tossing all night sleepless on his +pillow was a refinement of torture that he did not feel called upon to +bear. + +He had spent the previous night tramping the country-side, but he could +not tramp in London, and though he was not aware of fatigue, he knew the +necessity for bodily rest existed, and he compelled himself to take it. + +So he sat motionless, listening to the rain, while the hours crawled by. + +The roar of London traffic rose from afar, for the night was still. Now +and then a taxi whirred through the sloppy street, but there were few +wayfarers. Once a boy passed whistling, and the man at the window above +stiffened a little, as if in some fashion the careless melody stirred +him, but as the whistler turned the corner he relaxed again with his head +back, and resumed his attitude of waiting. + +It was nearly midnight when a taxi hummed up to the flaring lamp-post +before the house, and stopped to discharge its occupant. Mordaunt heard +the vehicle, but his eyes were closed and he did not trouble to open +them. He had laid aside his pipe, and actually seemed to be on the verge +of dozing at last. The window-curtain screened him from the view of any +in the street, and it did not occur to him that the new arrival could be +in any way connected with himself. + +It was, therefore, with a hint of surprise that he turned his head at the +opening of the door. + +"Mr. Wyndham to see you, sir," said Holmes. "Says it's very particular, +sir." + +"Who? Oh, all right. Show him in." A bored note sounded in Mordaunt's +voice. "And you needn't sit up, Holmes. I'll let him out," he added. + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes, without enthusiasm. He never liked to +retire before his master. + +Mordaunt rose with a faint touch of impatience. He expected to see Max, +and wondered that the news of his arrival in town had reached him so +quickly. But it was Rupert who entered, and turned to satisfy himself +that the door was shut before he advanced to greet his brother-in-law. + +Mordaunt stood by the window and watched the precaution with a certain +grim curiosity. He fancied he could guess the reason of this midnight +visitation, but as the boy came towards him and halted in the full light +he saw that he was mistaken. There was no indignant questioning visible +on Rupert's face. It looked only grey and haggard and desperate. + +"Look here," he said, speaking jerkily, as if it were only by a series of +tense efforts that he spoke at all. "I've come to tell you something. I +don't know how you'll take it. And I may as well admit--that I'm horribly +afraid. Do you mind if I have a drink--just to help me through?" + +Mordaunt closed the window, and came quietly forward. Just for a moment +he fancied that Rupert had already fortified himself in the manner +indicated for the ordeal of meeting him, and then again he realized that +he was mistaken. The eyes that looked into his were perfectly sane, but +they held an almost childlike appeal that made his heart contract +suddenly. He bit his lip savagely. Why on earth couldn't the fellow have +left him alone for this one night at least? + +He forced himself to be temperate, but there was no warmth in his tone as +he said, "I've no objection to your having a drink if you want it. I +suppose you've got into a scrape again, and want me to help you out?" + +"No, it's not that--at least, not in the sense you mean." + +Hurriedly Rupert made answer. He looked for a moment at the glasses on +the table, but he did not attempt to help himself. Suddenly he shivered. + +"Ye gods! What an infernal night! I had to walk ever so far before I +found a taxi. I came up by the evening train--couldn't get off duty +sooner. I thought you would be off to Dover before I got here. And I--and +I--" He broke off blankly and became silent, as if he had forgotten what +he had meant to say. + +Mordaunt leaned over the table, and mixed a drink with the utmost +steadiness. "Sit down," he said. "And now drink this, and pull yourself +together. There's nothing to be in a funk about, so take your time." + +He spoke with authority, but his manner had the aloofness of one not +greatly interested in the matter in hand. He resented the boy's +intrusion, that was all. + +Rupert accepted his hospitality in silence. This obvious lack of interest +increased his difficulties tenfold. + +Mordaunt went back to his chair by the window, and relighted his pipe. He +knew he was being cold-blooded, but he felt absolutely incapable of +kindling any warmth. There seemed to be no warmth left in him. + +Rupert gulped down his drink, and buried his face in his hands. He felt +that the thing he had come to do was beyond his power to accomplish. He +could not make his confession to a stone image. And yet he could not go, +leaving it unmade. + +In the long pause that followed it almost seemed as if Mordaunt had +forgotten his presence in the room. The minutes ticked away, and he made +no sign. + +At last, desperately, Rupert lifted his head. "Trevor!" + +Mordaunt looked at him. Then, struck possibly by the misery of the boy's +attitude, he laid down his pipe and turned towards him. + +"Well, what is it?" + +Vehemently Rupert made answer. "For pity's sake, don't freeze me up like +this, man! I--I--oh, can't you give me a lead?" he broke off desperately. + +"You see, I don't know in the least what you have come to say," Mordaunt +pointed out. "If it has anything to do with--recent events"--he spoke +with great distinctness--"I can only advise you to leave it alone, since +no remonstrance from you will make the smallest difference." + +"But it hasn't," groaned Rupert. "At least, of course, it's in connection +with that. But I've come to try and tell you the truth--something you +don't know and never will know if I don't tell you. And--Heaven help +me!--I'm such a cur--I don't know how to get through with it." + +That reached Mordaunt, stirring him to activity almost against his will. +He found himself unable to look on unmoved at his young brother-in-law's +distress. He left his chair and moved back to the table. + +"I don't know what you've got to be afraid of," he said, with a touch of +kindliness in his tone that deprived it of its remoteness. "I'm not +feeling particularly formidable. What have you been doing?" + +Rupert groaned again and covered his face. "You'll be furious enough +directly. But it's not that exactly that I mind. It's--it's the +disgusting shabbiness of it. We Wyndhams are such a rotten lot, we don't +see that part of the business till afterwards." + +"Hadn't you better come to the point?" suggested Mordaunt. "We can talk +about that later." + +"No, we can't," said Rupert, with conviction. "You'll either throw me out +of the window or kick me downstairs directly you know the truth." + +"I'm not in the habit of doing these things," Mordaunt remarked, with the +ghost of a smile. + +"But this is an exceptional case." Rupert straightened himself abruptly, +and turned in his chair, meeting the quiet eyes. "Damn it, I'll tell +you!" he said, springing to his feet with sudden resolution. "Trevor, +I--I'm an infernal blackguard! I forged that cheque!" + +"You!" Sternly Mordaunt uttered the word. He moved a step forward and +looked Rupert closely in the face. "Are you telling me the truth?" he +said. + +"I am." Rupert faced him squarely, though his eyelids quivered a little. +"I'm not likely to lie to you in this matter. I've nothing to gain and +all to lose. And I shouldn't have told you--anyway now--if Noel hadn't +come over this morning with the news that you had kicked out your +secretary for the offence I had committed. Even I couldn't stick that, so +I've come to own up--and take the consequences." + +He braced himself, almost as if he expected a blow. But Mordaunt remained +motionless, studying him keenly, and for many seconds he did not utter a +word. + +At last, "Bertrand knew of this," he said, in a tone that held more of +conviction than interrogation. + +"No, he didn't. He knew nothing, or, if he did, it was sheer guess-work. +I never suspected that he knew." Rupert's hands were clenched. He was +face to face with the hardest task he had ever undertaken. + +"He knew, for all that." Mordaunt's brows contracted; he seemed to be +following out a difficult problem. + +Finally, to Rupert's relief, he turned aside. "Go on," he said. "I'll +hear the whole of it now. What did you do with the money?" + +Rupert's teeth closed upon his lower lip. "That's the only question I +can't answer." + +"Why not?" The question was curt, and held no compromise. + +"Private reasons," Rupert muttered. + +"Family reasons would be more accurate," Mordaunt rejoined, in the same +curt tone. "You gave it to--Chris." + +The momentary hesitation before the name did not soften its utterance. It +came with a precision almost brutal. + +Rupert made a slight movement, and stood silent. + +"You are not going to deny it?" Mordaunt observed, glancing at him. + +He turned his face away. "What's the good?" + +"Just so. You had better tell me the whole truth. It will save trouble." + +"But I don't see that there is anything more to tell." Rupert spoke +with an effort. "I stole the cheque in the first place--that Sunday +afternoon--you remember? I was a bit top-heavy at the time. That's no +excuse," he threw in. "I daresay I should have done it in any case. +But--well, you know the state of mind I was in that day. You had just +been beastly generous, too. And that reminds me; you left your keys +behind, do you remember? I came in for another drink and saw them. The +temptation came then, and I never stopped to think till the thing was +done. Bertrand nearly caught me in the act. He didn't suspect anything at +the time, but he may have remembered afterwards." + +"Probably," said Mordaunt. "You weren't frank with me that day, then? +There were debts you didn't mention." + +Rupert nodded. "You were a bit high-handed with me. That choked me off. +Still, though in an evil moment I took the cheque out of your book, I +loathed myself for it afterwards. I hadn't the strength of mind to +destroy it, or the courage to send it back. But"--he turned back again +and met Mordaunt's eyes--"I wasn't going to use it, though I was cur +enough to keep it, and to like to feel it was there in case of emergency. +I didn't mean to use it--on my oath, I didn't. I don't expect you to +believe me, but it's true." + +"I believe you," Mordaunt said quietly. "And--the emergency arose?" + +Rupert nodded again. "Chris came to me--in great distress. Couldn't tell +me what she wanted it for. You weren't to know, neither was Bertrand. She +couldn't use her own without your finding out. And so--as it seemed +urgent--in fact, desperate--and as it was for her--" He broke off. "No, I +won't shelter myself in that way. I did it on my own. She didn't know. No +one knew. If Bertrand suspected, he must have thought I took it for my +own purposes. Heaven knows what she wanted it for, but she was most +emphatic that it shouldn't get round to him." + +"And you tell me she did not know how you obtained the money? Are you +certain of that?" Mordaunt's tone was deliberate; he spoke as one who +meant to have the truth. + +"Why, man, of course I am! What do you take her for? Chris--my +sister--your wife--" + +"Stop!" The word was brief, and very final. "We need not go into that. +She may not have known at the time, but she suspected afterwards. In +fact, she knew." + +"Is that what you quarrelled about?" Eagerly Rupert broke in. "Noel tried +to get it out of her, but she wouldn't tell him. You'll find out where +she's gone, and set it right? She can't be very far away." + +"That," Mordaunt said, in a tone from which the faintest hint of feeling +was excluded, "is beside the point. We will not discuss it." + +"But--" Rupert began. + +"We will not discuss it." Mordaunt repeated the words in the same utterly +emotionless voice, and Rupert found it impossible to continue. "In fact, +there seems to be nothing further to discuss of any sort. Can I put you +up for the night?" + +Rupert stared at him. + +"Well?" Mordaunt's brows went up a little. + +"Are you in earnest?" the boy burst out awkwardly. "I mean--I mean--don't +you want to--to--give me a sound kicking?" + +"Not in the least." A steely glint shone for a moment in the grey eyes. +"I don't think that sort of treatment does much good, as a rule. And I +have not the smallest desire to administer it. If you think you deserve +it, I should imagine that is punishment enough." + +Rupert swung round sharply on his heel. "All right. I'm going. If you +want me, you know where to find me. I shan't run away. And I shan't try +to back out. What I've said I shall stick to--if it means perdition." + +"And what about the Regiment?" Quietly Mordaunt's voice arrested him +before he reached the door. "Or doesn't the Regiment count?" + +Rupert stopped dead, but he did not turn. "The Regiment"--he said--"the +Regiment"--he choked suddenly--"they'll be damned well rid of me," he +ended, somewhat incoherently. + +"Come back!" Mordaunt said. + +He made an irresolute movement, but did not comply. + +"Rupert!" There was authority in the quiet voice. + +Unwillingly Rupert turned. He came back unsteadily, with features that +had begun to twitch. + +Mordaunt moved to meet him. The coldness had gone out of his eyes. He +took Rupert's arm, and brought him back to the table. + +"I think you had better let me put you up," he said. "You can sleep in my +room; I'm not wanting it for to-night. There, sit down. You mustn't be a +fool, you know. You are played out, and want a rest." + +"I--I'm all right," Rupert said. + +He made as if he would withdraw his arm, but changed his intention, and +stood tense, battling with himself. + +"Oh, man!" he burst out at last, hoarsely, "you--you don't know what +a--what a--cur I feel! I--I--I--" Words failed him abruptly; he flung +round and sank down again at the table with his head on his arms, too +humbled to remember his manhood any longer. + +"My dear fellow, don't!" Mordaunt said. He put his hand on the boy's +heaving shoulders and kept it there. "There's no sense in letting +yourself go. The thing is done, and there is no more to be said, since +neither you nor I can undo it. Come, boy! Pull yourself together. I am +going to forget it, and you can do the same. I think you had better go to +bed now. We shall have time for a talk in the morning. What?" He stooped +to catch a half-audible sentence. + +"You'll never forget it," gasped Rupert. + +"Yes, I shall--if you will let me. It rests with you. I never wish to +speak or think of it again. I have plenty of other things to think about, +and so have you. That's settled, then. I am going to see if I can find +you something to eat." + +He stood up. His face had softened to kindness. He patted Rupert's +shoulder before he turned away. + +"Buck up, old chap!" he said gently, and went with quiet tread from the +room. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A FRUITLESS ERRAND + + +"Hullo, Jack!" Noel sprang to meet his cousin with the bound of a young +panther. "Where on earth have you come from? My good chap, you're +positively drenched! You've never walked up from the station!" + +"And missed the way twice," said Jack grimly. He shook Noel off without +ceremony. "Where is Trevor? I have come to see him." + +"Oh, he's cleared out; went to town this afternoon, says he's going to +Paris to-morrow. There's been no end of a shine, you know. Chris bolted +last night. Heaven only knows where she's gone. I think she might have +told me first." + +"I can tell you," said Jack. "She is with Hilda at Graysdale. I have just +come from there. Trevor is in town, you say?" + +Noel nodded. "Bertrand's gone too, you know. That was the beginning of +it. Trevor kicked him out for robbing him. Beastly little thief! I told +Trevor he would long ago. I say, you are not going again!" + +Jack, still standing on the mat, was consulting his watch. "If there is +another up train to-night I must catch it. There's a motor here, isn't +there? Send round word that it is wanted." + +"But there isn't a train!" Noel protested. "I know the last one goes at +nine-fifty, and it's past ten now. Have you all gone raving mad? I always +thought you, anyhow, had a little sense." + +Jack uttered a grim laugh. "Well, find a time-table. I must go by the +first train in the morning, whatever the hour. I've got to see Trevor +before he leaves England." + +"You won't get any sense out of him," Noel remarked. "I told him he was a +beastly cad myself before he went, and he didn't even punch my head. Oh, +I say, Jack, this place is pretty ghastly with no one in it. I can't +stick it much longer." + +"Just get me a drink," Jack said, "and we will discuss your affairs at +length." + +Noel departed with his customary expedition. He returned with drinks for +two, which he proceeded to mix with a lavish hand. + +"I'm not going to let you have that," Jack observed. "You have dined, and +I haven't. Get me some food like a good chap, and then we will have a +talk." + +Noel submitted meekly. He was fond of Jack. Returning with sufficient to +satisfy his cousin's immediate needs, he seated himself on the table +while he ate, and embarked upon a more detailed account of the happenings +of the past two days. + +"I only saw Chris for a few minutes," he said in conclusion. "She looked +pretty desperate, and seemed horribly scared. But she wouldn't tell me +why. I knew there was something up, of course. Trevor had told me she was +upset about Bertrand. But I had no idea she was going to cut and run. I +don't know if Trevor had, but I couldn't get anything out of him. It's my +belief the silly ass was jealous." + +Jack grunted. + +"I didn't know what to do," Noel ended. "So I thought I'd stick on here +till someone turned up." + +"You ought to be going back to school," Jack remarked. + +Noel leaned carelessly down upon his elbow and looked him straight in the +eyes. "I'm not going," he said. + +"Why not?" + +"I've other things to think about. I'm going to Graysdale. Can you lend +me a couple of quid for the journey? I'll pay you back when I come of +age." + +Jack surveyed him with one brow uplifted. "Suppose I can't?" + +"I shall tramp, that's all." Noel made unconcerned response. He was +accustomed to fend for himself, and the prospect of such an adventure was +rather alluring than otherwise. + +Jack smiled a little. He liked the boy's independence. "What do you want +to go to Graysdale for?" he asked. + +"To look after Chris, of course." + +"Hilda can do that." + +"Not in the same way. You needn't try to put me off. I'm going." Noel got +off the table with his hands in his pockets and broke into a whistle. + +Jack went on with his meal in silence. + +Finally Noel came round and stood beside him. "That's understood, is it?" +he said. "One of us ought to be with her, and as you and Rupert are +chasing after Trevor, and Max is in town, it looks like my job. Anyhow, +I'm going to take it on." + +"All right," Jack said. "Go and prosper. I'm not sure that you will be +wanted. But that's a detail. I daresay Chris may like to have you." + +Noel grinned boyishly. "You're a white man, Jack! I'm jolly glad you +turned up. Between ourselves, I don't mind telling you that I've been in +a fairly stiff paste all day. It's a beastly feeling, isn't it? I'd have +looked after her better if I'd known." + +"You're a white man too," said Jack kindly. "Mind you behave like one." + +They parted for the night soon after, to meet again very early in the +morning, and finally separate upon their various errands. + +Noel departed upon his in obviously high spirits; but he maintained his +air of responsibility notwithstanding, and Jack took leave of him with a +smile of approval. + +He himself telegraphed to Hilda as soon as he arrived in town, and +acquainted her with the fact of the boy's advent. He directed her to send +her answering message to him at Mordaunt's rooms, and then proceeded +thither with the firm determination to see the owner thereof without +further delay. + +Holmes admitted him, and imparted the information that his master was at +breakfast with the eldest Mr. Wyndham, who had arrived overnight. + +Jack's jaw hardened at the news. He had not expected to find Rupert +accepting his brother-in-law's hospitality. He shrugged his shoulders +over the volatility of the Wyndhams, and announced curtly that he desired +to see Mr. Mordaunt in private. + +"Will you come into the smoking-room, sir?" asked Holmes. + +"Certainly. But tell him I can't wait," said Jack. + +He marched into the smoking-room therewith, and Holmes softly closed the +door upon him. The window by which Mordaunt had sat all night long was +open, and the sounds of the street below came cheerily in. Jack crossed +over and quietly shut it. + +Turning from this, his eyes fell upon a photograph on the mantelpiece. He +went up to it and took it between his hands. Gaily the pictured face +laughed up at him--Chris in her happiest, wildest mood, with Cinders +clasped in her arms; Chris, the child of the sunny eyes that no shadow +had ever darkened! + +Something rose suddenly in Jack's throat. He gulped hard, and put the +portrait back. Was it indeed Chris--the broken-hearted woman he had held +in his arms but yesterday? Then was the Chris of the old days gone for +ever. + +Someone entered the room behind him and he wheeled round. + +"Good morning," said Mordaunt. + +He offered his hand, but Jack ignored it and his greeting alike. + +He stood for a couple of seconds in silence, looking at him, while +Mordaunt waited with absolute composure. Then, "I daresay you are +wondering what I have come for," he said. "Or perhaps you can guess." + +"Why should I?" Mordaunt said. + +Jack frowned abruptly. He had met this impenetrable mood before. But he +would not be baffled by it. It was no moment for subtleties. He went +straight to the point. + +"I have come to tell you that Chris is at Graysdale with Hilda," he said. + +Mordaunt's brows went up. He said nothing. + +But Jack was insistent. "Did you know that?" + +"I did not." Very deliberately came Mordaunt's answer; it held no emotion +of any sort. The subject might have been one of utter indifference to +him. + +"Then where did you think she was?" + +There was an undernote of ferocity in Jack's question, almost a hint of +menace; but Mordaunt seemed unaware of it. + +"Forgive me for saying so, Jack," he said. "But that is more my affair +than yours. I have nothing whatever to discuss with you, nor do I hold +myself answerable to you in any way for my actions." + +"But I do," Jack said curtly. "I have always held myself responsible for +Chris's welfare. And I do so still." + +Mordaunt listened unmoved. "You can hardly expect me to acknowledge your +authority," he said, "since my responsibility in that respect is greater +than yours." + +"I have no desire to dictate to you," Jack answered quickly. "But I do +claim the right to speak my mind on this matter. Remember, it was I who +first brought you into her life." + +Mordaunt shrugged his shoulders slightly. "As to that, I am fatalist +enough to believe that we should have met in any case. But isn't that +beside the point? I have declined to discuss the matter with anyone, and +I am not going to make an exception of you." + +"You must," Jack said. He threw back his shoulders as if bracing himself +for a physical conflict. He was plainly in earnest. + +Mordaunt turned to the table and sat down. "You are wasting your time," +he said. "Argument is quite useless. I have already decided upon my plan +of action, and quarrelling with you is no part of it." + +"What is your plan of action?" Jack demanded. + +Mordaunt took out his cigarette-case. "I shall start for Paris in a +couple of hours. Meantime"--he glanced up--"I suppose you won't smoke? +Have you had any breakfast?" + +"Then you mean to desert her?" Jack said. + +Mordaunt's face remained immovable. He began to smoke in dead silence. + +Jack's teeth clenched. "I am going to have an answer," he said. + +"Very well." Coldly the words fell; there was something merciless in +their very utterance. "Then I will answer you; but it is my last word +upon the subject. My wife followed her own choice in leaving me, and it +is my intention to abide by her decision. If you call that desertion--" + +"I do," Jack broke in passionately. "It is desertion, nothing less. She +left you--oh, I know all about it--she left you because you literally +scared her away. You terrified her into going; there was nothing else for +her to do. She had done nothing wrong. But you--you dared to suspect her +of Heaven knows what. You dared to think that Chris--my Chris--was +capable of playing you false, you who were the only man on earth I +thought good enough for her. And do you know what you have done? You have +broken her heart!" He took the portrait from the mantelpiece and thrust +it in front of the man at the table. "That," he said, and suddenly his +voice was quivering, "that was the child you married. I gave her into +your care willingly, though, God knows, I worshipped her. No, you didn't +cut me out. I was never in the running. I never so much as made love to +her. I always knew she was not for me. When she accepted you, I thought +it was the best thing that could possibly happen. I felt she would be +safe with you. You were the one fellow I would have chosen to guard her. +And she needed guarding. She was as innocent and as inexperienced as a +baby. She didn't know the world and its beastly ways. I thought you were +to be trusted to keep her out of the mud; I could have sworn you were. +But you withdrew your protection just when she needed it most. You +practically turned her out, cut her adrift. She might have gone straight +to the bad for all you cared. And now, like the damned blackguard that +you are, you are going to clear out and leave her to break her heart!" + +Fiercely the words rushed out. Jack, the placid, the kindly, the +careless, was for the moment electrified by a tornado of feeling that +swept him far beyond the bounds of his customary easy _bonhomie_. He +towered over the man in the chair as if at the first movement he would +fell him to the ground. + +But Mordaunt remained quite motionless. He had removed his cigarette, and +sat looking straight up at him with steely eyes that never changed. When +Jack ceased to speak, there fell a silence that was in a sense more +fraught with conflict than any war of words. + +Through it at length came Mordaunt's voice, measured and distinct and +cold. "It is not particularly wise of you to take that tone, but that is +your affair. I have already warned you that you are wasting your time. +Your championship is quite superfluous, and will do no good to anyone. +I think you will see this for yourself when you have taken time to think +it over. Wouldn't it be as well to do so before you go any further--for +your own sake, not for mine?" + +"I am not thinking of myself at the present moment," Jack responded +sternly, "or of you. I'm thinking of Chris--and Chris only. Man, do you +want to kill her? For you're going the right way to do it." + +The cigarette between Mordaunt's fingers slowly doubled and crumpled into +shapelessness, but the steely eyes never altered. They barred the way +inflexibly to the man's inmost soul. He uttered neither question nor +answer. + +But Jack was not to be silenced. "I tell you, she is ill," he said. "I +saw her myself yesterday. She was simply broken down. I never saw such a +change in anyone. I couldn't have credited it. Hilda is horribly anxious +about her. She is going to wire to me here as to her condition." + +"Why here?" Very calmly came the question. + +Jack explained. Almost in spite of himself his own heat had died down, +cooled by that icy deliberation. "I went to Kellerton yesterday in search +of you, found only Noel there, but had to spend the night as it was late. +I came on by the first train, and wired to Hilda to send her message here +in case you may be wanted. It ought to come through in about an hour." + +"And you propose to wait for it?" + +"Yes, I do." Jack paused an instant; then, "You must wait too," he said +doggedly. "She isn't very likely to want you, and I've sworn you shan't +frighten her any more; but you shan't abandon her either while there is +the faintest chance that she may want you." + +"There is not the faintest." Mordaunt glanced down at the thing that had +once been a cigarette which he still held between his fingers, +contemplated it for a moment, then rose and went to the mantelpiece for +an ash-tray. "You have taken a good deal upon yourself, Jack," he said. +"But I have borne with you because I know that your position is a +difficult one. You say you know everything. That may be so, and again +it may not. In either case, our points of view do not coincide. I will +wait until that telegram comes; but it is not my intention to go to my +wife--whatever it may contain." + +Jack bit his lip savagely. "In short, you don't care what happens to +her!" he said. "You want to be rid of her--one way or another. And you +don't care how!" + +He spoke recklessly, uttering the thought that had come uppermost in his +mind without an instant's consideration. Perhaps instinctively he sought +to rouse the devil that till then had been held in such rigid control. +But the effect of his words was such as he had scarcely looked for. + +Mordaunt turned with the movement of a goaded creature and gripped him by +the shoulder. "You believe that?" he said. + +They stood face to face. Mordaunt was as white as death. His eyes in that +moment were terrible. But it seemed to Jack that they expressed more of +anguish than of anger, and he felt as if he had seen a soul in torment. +He averted his own instinctively. It was a sight upon which he could not +look. + +"Do you believe it?" Mordaunt said, his voice very low. + +"No!" Impulsively Jack made answer. That instant's revelation had +quenched his own fire very effectually. "Forgive me!" he said. "I--didn't +understand." + +The hand on his shoulder relaxed slowly. There fell a silence. Then, "All +right, Jack," Mordaunt said very quietly. + +And Jack knew that he had dropped the veil again that shrouded his soul's +agony. + +"You will wait here for that telegram?" Mordaunt asked, after a moment. + +"Yes, please." + +"Will you come into the other room? Rupert is with me." + +"No. I'll wait here, thanks." + +"Very well. I shall see you again." Mordaunt crossed to the door, then +paused, and after a moment came slowly back to the table. + +He stood before it in silence, looking down upon the portrait that Jack +had laid there as one looks upon the face of the dead. + +His face showed no sign of softening, yet Jack made a last effort to move +him. "You're not going to let her fret her heart out for you? You'll go +back to her if she is wanting you? Damn it, Trevor! You can't know what +she is suffering! And after all--she is your wife!" + +Mordaunt's mouth hardened. He made no response. + +"Surely you don't--you can't--think evil of her?" Jack said. + +Mordaunt raised his eyes slowly. "You have said enough," he said, with +quiet emphasis. "As for this portrait, take it if you value it. I never +cared for it myself." + +"Never cared for it!" Jack ejaculated. + +"No. It never conveyed very much to me. I did not regard her in that +light." + +"Then you never knew her," Jack said with conviction. + +"Possibly not." Mordaunt turned away once more. "Most of us are blind," +he said, "until our eyes are opened. I am going to send you in some +breakfast if you are sure you prefer to stay here." + +He went out quietly, leaving Jack marvelling at his own docility. The +last thing he would have expected of himself was that at the end of the +interview he also would be accepting the hospitality of the man he had +come almost prepared to shoot. The turn of events forced him into a +species of unwilling admiration. There was no denying the fact that, +mismanage his own private affairs as he might, this was a born leader of +men. + +Mordaunt himself brought him his sister's telegram some time later. + +He remained in the room while Jack opened it, but he betrayed no +impatience to hear its contents. As for Jack, he stood for several +seconds with the message in his hand before he looked up. + +"I suppose you will have to see it," he said then reluctantly. + +"That is as you like." + +But though the words were emotionless, Mordaunt's eyes searched his face, +and in answer to them Jack held out the paper. + +"I am sorry," he said. + +"In no danger. Keep Trevor away," was the message it contained. + +"As I thought," Mordaunt observed, and handed it back without further +comment. + +"She will be wanting you presently," Jack said uneasily, "You know how +women change." + +And Mordaunt smiled, a grim, set smile. "Yes, I know," he answered. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART + + +The night was very hot, even hotter than the day had been. Only the +whirring electric fan kept the air moving. It might have been midsummer +instead of the end of September. + +Bertrand de Montville, seated in an easy-chair and propped by cushions, +raised his head from time to time and gasped for breath. He held a +newspaper in his hand, for sleep was out of the question. He had been +suffering severely during the day, but the pain had passed and only +weariness remained. His face was yet drawn with the memory of it, and his +eyes were heavily shadowed. But the inherent pluck of the man was still +apparent. His pride of bearing had not waned. + +He was reading with close attention a report upon the chief event of the +hour--the trial of Guillaume Rodolphe at Valpré. It had been in progress +for four days, and was likely to last for several more. The report he +read was from the pen of Trevor Mordaunt, an account clear and direct as +the man himself. So far the evidence had seemed to turn in Bertrand's +favour, and, his protestations notwithstanding, it was impossible not to +feel a quickening of the pulses as he realized this fact. Would they ever +send for him? He asked himself. Would they ever desire to do justice to +the man they had degraded? + +It was evident that the writer of the account before him thought so. +However Mordaunt's opinion of the man himself had altered, his conviction +on the subject of his innocence of that primary crime had plainly +remained unshaken. He had not allowed himself to be biased by +subsequent events. + +"And that is strange--that!" the Frenchman murmured, with his eyes +upon the article. "Perhaps _la petite Christine_ has convinced him. +But no--that is not probable." + +He broke off as the door opened, and a quick smile of welcome flashed +across his face. He stretched out both hands to the new-comer. + +"All right. Sit still," said Max. + +He sauntered across the room, his coat hanging open and displaying +evening dress, and gave his hand into Bertrand's eager clasp. It was a +very cool hand, and strong with a vitality that seemed capable of +imparting itself. + +He looked down at Bertrand with a queer glint of tenderness in his eyes. +"I shouldn't have come up at this hour," he said, "but I guessed you +would be awake. How goes it, old chap? Pretty bad, eh?" + +"No, I am better," Bertrand said. "I am glad that you came up." + +Max drew up a chair, and sat down beside his _protégé_. For nearly three +weeks now Bertrand had been with him. A post-card written from a squalid +back-street lodging had been his first intimation that the Frenchman was +in London, and within two hours of receiving it Max had removed him to +the private nursing-home in which he himself was at that time domiciled. +For, notwithstanding his youth, Max Wyndham was a privileged person, and +owned as his greatest friend one of the most distinguished physicians in +London. + +His natural brilliance had brought him in the first place to the great +man's notice; and though he was but a medical student, his foot was +already firmly planted upon the ladder of success. There was little doubt +that one day--and that probably not many years distant--Max Wyndham would +be a great man too. Even as it was, his grip upon all things that +concerned the profession he had chosen was so prodigious that his patron +would upon occasion consult with him as an equal, detecting in him that +flare of genius which in itself is of more value than years of +accumulated knowledge. He had the gift of magnetism to an extraordinary +degree, and he coupled with it an unerring instinct upon which he was not +afraid to rely. Equipped thus, he was bound to come to the front, though +whether the Wyndham blood in him would suffer him to stay there was a +proposition that time alone could solve. + +His effect upon Bertrand was little short of magical. Sitting there +beside him with the wasted wrist between his fingers, and his green eyes +gazing at nothing in particular, there was little about him to indicate a +remarkable personality. Yet the drawn look passed wholly away from the +sick man's face, and he leaned back among his pillows with a restfulness +that he had been very far from feeling a few seconds earlier. + +"So you are reading all about the Rodolphe _affaire_," Max said +presently. + +"It is Mr. Mordaunt's own report," Bertrand explained. "It interests +me--that. I feel as if I heard him speak." + +Max grunted. He had asked no question as to the circumstances that had +led to Bertrand's departure, and Bertrand had volunteered no information. +It had been a closed subject between them by mutual consent. But to-night +for some reason Max approached it, warily, as one not sure of his ground. + +"When do you hope to see him again?" + +A slight flush rose in Bertrand's face. "Never--it is probable," he said +sadly. + +"Ah! Then you had a disagreement?" + +Bertrand looked at him questioningly. + +Max smiled a little. "No, it isn't vulgar curiosity. Fact is, I came +across my cousin Jack Forest to-day. You remember Jack Forest? I've been +dining with him at his club. We hadn't met for ages, and naturally we had +a good deal to say to one another." + +He paused, gently relinquishing his hold upon Bertrand's wrist, and +got up to pour something out of a bottle on the mantelpiece into a +medicine-glass. + +"Drink this, old chap," he said, "or I shall tire you out before I've +done." + +"You have something to say to me?" Bertrand said quickly. + +Max nodded. "I have. Drink first, and then I will tell you. That's the +way. You needn't be in a hurry. You were going to tell me about that +disagreement, weren't you? At least, I think you were. You have been rash +enough to trust me before." + +"But naturally," Bertrand said. He handed the glass back with a courteous +gesture of thanks. "And I have not had cause to regret it. I will tell +you why I disagreed with Mr. Mordaunt if you desire to know. It was +because he found that he had been robbed, and that I"--he spread out +his hands--"was the robber." + +Max stared. "Found that you had robbed him! You!" + +Bertrand nodded several times, but said no more. + +"I don't believe it," Max said with conviction. + +Bertrand smiled rather ruefully. "No? But yet the evidence was against +me. And me, I did not contradict the evidence." + +"I see. You were shielding someone. Who was it? Rupert?" + +At Bertrand's quick start Max also smiled with grim humour. "You see, I +know my own people rather well. I'm glad it wasn't Chris, anyway. Then +she had nothing at all to do with your quarrel with Trevor?" + +"Nothing," Bertrand said--"nothing." He paused a moment, then added, with +something of an effort, "But I had decided that I would go before that. +Mr. Mordaunt did not know why." + +"Because of Chris?" There was a touch of sharpness in Max's voice. + +Bertrand bent his head. "You were right that night. A man cannot hope to +hide his heart for ever from the woman whom he loves." + +"You told her, then?" + +"It arrived without telling," Bertrand answered with simplicity. + +"That means she cares for you?" Max said shrewdly. + +Bertrand looked up. "_Mais c'est passé_," he said, his voice very low. +"You have guessed the truth, but you only know it. Her husband--" + +"My dear fellow, that's just the mischief. He knows it too," Max said. + +"He!" Bertrand started upright. + +Instantly Max's hand was upon him, checking him. "Keep still, Bertrand! +You can't afford to waste your strength. Yes, Trevor knows. He knew on +the very day you left. He found out that that blackguard Rodolphe had +been blackmailing her. He had a scene with Chris, and she left him." + +"Rodolphe! _Le canaille! Est-ce possible? Alors_, she is not--not with +him--at Valpré--as I thought?" gasped Bertrand. + +"No. She has not been near him since. I knew nothing of this till to-day. +She hardly ever writes. I thought--as you did--that she had gone to +France with Trevor. Instead of that, Jack tells me, she has been with his +sister in Yorkshire all this time. She has been ill, is so still, I +believe. They are coming to town to-morrow, to Percy Davenant's flat. +Jack is very worried about it. He saw Trevor before he left England, but +couldn't get him to listen to reason. He seems to have made up his mind +to have no more to do with her, while she is fretting herself to a +skeleton over it, but daren't make the first move towards a +reconciliation. It probably wouldn't do any good if she did. He is as +hard as iron. And if his mind is once made up--" Max left the sentence +unfinished, and continued: "I think I shall go to Valpré and see what I +can do. This has gone on long enough, and we can't have Chris making +herself ill. I should think even he would see the force of that. This +trial business will be over in a few days, and if I don't catch him he +may go wandering, Heaven knows where. But it won't do. He must come back +to her. I shall tell him so." + +But at that Bertrand laid a nervous hand upon his arm. "My friend," he +said, "you will not persuade him." + +Max looked at him, and was confronted by eyes of gleaming resolution. "I +believe I shall," he said. "I can persuade most people." + +"You will not persuade him," Bertrand repeated. "That _scélérat_ has +poisoned his mind. Moreover, you do not even know what passed between +us." + +"I don't need to know," Max said curtly. + +Bertrand began to smile. "And you think you can plead your sister's cause +without knowing, _hein_? No, no! the affair is too much advanced. There +is only one man who can help the little Christine now. He would not +listen to you, _mon cher_, if you went. But--to me, he will listen, even +though he believes me to be a thief; for he is very just. I know that I +can make him understand. And for that I shall go to him to-morrow. As you +say, we cannot let _la petite_ fret." + +He spoke quite quietly, but his eyes were shining with a fire that had +not lit them for many a day. + +"My dear chap, you can't go. You're not fit for it." Max spoke with quick +decision. "I won't let you go, so there's an end of it." + +But Bertrand laughed. "So? But I am more fit than you think, _mon ami_. +Also it is my affair, this, and none but I can accomplish it. See, I +start in the morning, and by this hour to-morrow I shall be with him." + +"Folly! Madness!" Max said. + +But indomitable resolution still shone in the Frenchman's eyes. "Listen +to me, Max," he said. "If I spend my last breath thus, why not? I have +not the least desire to cling to life. And is that madness? I love _la +petite_ more than all. And is that folly? Why should I not give the +strength that is still in me to accomplish the desire of my heart? Is +mortal life so precious to those who have nothing for which to live?" + +"Rot!" Max said fiercely. "You have plenty to live for. When this +scoundrel Rodolphe is disposed of they will be reinstating you. You've +got to live to have your honour vindicated. Does that mean nothing to +you?" + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. "It would interest me exactly as the +procession under the windows interests those who watch. The procession +passes, and the street is empty again. What is that to me?" He snapped +his fingers carelessly. But the animation of his face had transformed it +completely, giving him a look of youth with which Max was wholly +unfamiliar. "See!" he said. "_Le bon Dieu_ has given me this thing to do, +and He will give me the strength to do it. That is His way, _mon ami_. He +does not command us to make bricks without straw." + +Max grunted. "Whatever you do, you will have to pay for," he observed +dryly. "And how are you going to get to Valpré without being arrested?" + +"But I will disguise myself. That should be easy." Bertrand laughed +again, and suddenly stretched out his arms and rose. "I am well," he +declared. "I have been given the strength, and I will use it. Have no +fear, Max. It will not fail me." + +"I shall go too, then," Max said abruptly. "Sit down, man, and be +rational. You don't suppose I shall let you tear all over France in your +present condition by yourself, do you? If you excite yourself in this +fashion, you will be having that infernal pain again. Sit down, I tell +you!" + +Bertrand sat down, but as if he moved on wires. "No," he said with +confidence, "I shall not suffer any more to-night. You say that you will +go with me? But indeed it is not necessary. And you have your work to do. +I would not have you leave it on my account." + +"I am coming," Max said, with finality, "And look here, Bertrand, I shall +be in command of this expedition, and we are not going to travel at +break-neck speed. You will not reach Valpré till the day after to-morrow. +That is understood, is it?" + +Bertrand hesitated and looked dubious. + +"Come, man, it's for your own good. You don't want to die before you get +there." Max's tone was severely practical. + +"Ah no! Not that! I must not fail, Max. I must not fail." Bertrand spoke +with great earnestness. He laid an impressive hand on his companion's +arm. For a moment his face betrayed emotion. "I cannot--I will not--die +before her happiness is assured. It is that for which I now live, for +which I am ready to give my life. Max--_mon ami_--you will not let me die +before--my work--is done!" + +He spoke pantingly, as though speech had become an effort. The strain was +beginning to tell upon him. But his eyes pleaded for him with a dumb +intensity hard to meet. + +Max took his wrist once more into his steady grasp. "If you will do as I +tell you," he said, "I will see that you don't. Is that a bargain?" + +A faint smile shone in the dark eyes at the peremptoriness of his speech. +"But how you are despotic--you English!" protested the soft voice. + +"Do you agree to that?" insisted Max. + +"_Mais oui_. I submit myself--always--to you English. How can one--do +other?" + +"Then don't talk any more," said Max, with authority. "There's no time +for drivel, so save your breath. You will want it when you get to +Valpré." + +"Ah, Valpré!" whispered Bertrand very softly as one utters a beloved +name; and again more softly, "Valpré!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STRANGER + + +A long wave broke with a splash and spread up the sand in a broad band of +silver foam. The tide was at its lowest, and the black rocks of Valpré +stood up stark and grotesque in the evening light. The Gothic archway of +the Magic Cave yawned mysteriously in the face of the cliff, and over it, +with shrill wailings, flew countless seagulls, flashing their wings in +the sunset. + +The man who walked alone along the shore was too deeply engrossed in +thought to take much note of his surroundings, although more than once he +turned his eyes towards the darkness of the cave. A belt of rocks +stretched between, covered with slimy, green seaweed. It was evident that +he had no intention of crossing this to explore the mysteries beyond. +Just out of reach of the sea he moved, his hands behind him and his head +bent. + +All through the day he had been pent in a stuffy courtroom, closely +following the evidence that, like a net of strong weaving, was gradually +closing around the prisoner Guillaume Rodolphe. All France was seething +over the trial. All Europe watched with vivid interest. + +Another man's name had begun to be uttered on all sides, in court and out +of it, coupled continuously with the name of the man who was standing his +trial. Bertrand de Montville, where was he? All France would soon be +waiting to do him justice, to pay him high honour, to compensate him for +the indignities he had wrongfully suffered. He would have to face another +court-martial, it was true; but the outcome of that would be a foregone +conclusion, and his acquittal would raise him to a pinnacle of popularity +to which he had surely never aspired, even in the days when ambition had +been the ruling passion of his life. + +Undoubtedly he would be the hero of the hour, if he could be found. But +where was he? Everyone was asking the question. None knew the answer. +Some said he was in England, awaiting the turn of events, abiding his +opportunity; others that he was already in France, lying hidden in Paris, +or even risking arrest at Valpré itself. The police were uniformly +reticent upon the subject, but it was generally believed that there would +be small difficulty in finding him when the moment arrived. Some went so +far as to assert that he had actually been arrested, and was being kept a +close prisoner by the authorities, who were plainly in fear of serious +rioting. Whatever the truth of the matter, the fact remained that the +tide of public opinion had set very strongly in his favour, and was +likely to wax to a tumultuous enthusiasm exceedingly difficult to cope +with when the object thereof should present himself. + +With all of this Trevor Mordaunt was well acquainted; but he, on his +part, was firmly convinced that Bertrand would keep away until he himself +had left France. To come to Valpré now would be to court a meeting with +him, and this, he was convinced, Bertrand would do his utmost to avoid. +The break between them had been quite final. Moreover, he probably +believed that Chris was at Valpré also, and he had apparently determined +not to see her again. But here an evil thought forced its way. Might they +not, quite possibly, be in communication with one another? It had +presented itself many times before, that thought, and he had sought to +put it from him. But to-night it would not be denied. It conquered and +possessed him. Was it at all likely that the parting between them had +been final? + +Only that afternoon evidence had been given of the episode that had led +to the duel on the Valpré sands more than four years before. He had +listened with a set face to the account of the insult and the subsequent +challenge, and though no name had been mentioned, he had known and faced +the fact that the woman in the case had been his wife. Even then, +Bertrand had regarded her as his peculiar charge, as under his exclusive +protection. And she--had she not told him with burning unrestraint that +she had always loved this man, would love him till she died? + +With the gesture of one who relinquishes his hold upon something he has +discovered to be valueless, Trevor Mordaunt turned in his tracks and +began to walk back over the long stretch of sand. He looked no longer in +the direction of the Magic Cave, but rather quickened his steps as though +he desired to leave it far behind. But there was no escaping that +all-mastering suspicion. It went with him, closely locked with his own +spirit, and he could not shake it off. + +Back to his hotel he walked, with no glance at sea or shining +sunset, and went straight to his own room. There was a private +sitting-room adjoining, which he was wont to share with some of his +fellow-journalists. They used it as a club writing-room when the +proceedings of the court-martial were over for the day. He had his notes +in his pocket; his report was not yet written. He remembered that he must +catch the midnight mail, and decided that he would not stop to dress. +That day's sitting had been longer than usual, and his walk along the +shore had made him late. + +He passed straight through his bedroom, therefore, and into the +sitting-room that overlooked the sea. A small, round-backed man, with a +shag of black hair upon his face, was sitting by the window. There were +three other men in the room, all writing busily. All, save the man by the +window, glanced up at Mordaunt's entrance and nodded to him. They were +all English, with the exception of the stranger, who was obviously +French. + +Mordaunt looked at him questioningly, but no one volunteered an +explanation. He had evidently been sitting there for some time. His gaze +was fixed upon the darkening sea. It was plain that he had no desire to +court attention. + +Quietly Mordaunt crossed the room to him. He was crouched like a monkey, +his chin on his hand, and made no movement at his approach. + +Mordaunt reached him, and bent a little. "_Est-ce que vous attendez +quelqu'un, monsieur_?" + +Dark eyes flashed up at him, and sharply Mordaunt straightened himself. + +"I await Mr. Mordaunt," a soft voice said. + +There was an instant's pause before, "That is my name," Mordaunt said +very quietly. + +"_Eh bien, monsieur_! May I speak with you--in private?" + +The stranger rose shufflingly. He had the look of an old man. + +"Come this way," Mordaunt said. + +He re-crossed the room, his visitor hobbling in his wake. No one spoke, +but all surveyed the latter curiously, and as the door of Mordaunt's +bedroom closed upon him there was an interchange of glances and a raising +of brows. + +But nothing passed behind the closed door that would have enlightened any +of them. For Mordaunt scarcely waited to be alone with the man before he +said, "I must ask you to wait some time longer if you wish to speak to +me. I am not at liberty at present." + +"If I may wait here--" the stranger suggested meekly. + +"Yes. You can do that. Have you dined?" + +"But no, monsieur." + +Mordaunt rang the bell. His face was quite immovable. He stood and waited +in silence for an answer to his summons. + +Holmes came at length. He betrayed no surprise at sight of the stranger +in the room, but stood stiffly at attention, as though prepared to remove +him at his master's bidding. + +"Holmes," Mordaunt said very distinctly, "this--gentleman has private +business with me, and he will wait in this room until I am able to attend +to him. Will you get him some dinner, and see that no one but yourself +comes into the room while he is here?" + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes. + +He looked his charge over with something of the air of a sentry taking +stock of a prisoner, and turned about. + +"See that he has all that he wants," Mordaunt added. + +"Very good, sir," Holmes said again, and withdrew. + +Mordaunt turned at once towards the other door. "I may be a couple of +hours," he said, and passed through gravely into his sitting-room. + +The trio assembled there glanced up again at his entrance with +professional curiosity, but Mordaunt's face was quite inscrutable. +Without speaking, he went to the table, took out his notebook, and began +to write. The evidence had that evening been completed, and the trial +adjourned for two days. It was his intention to write a short _résumé_ of +the whole, and this he proceeded to do with characteristic clearness of +outline. His pen moved rapidly, with unwavering decision, and for upwards +of an hour he was immersed in his task, to the exclusion of all other +considerations. + +The three other men in the room completed their own reports, and went out +one by one. The hotel was full of journalists from all parts, and the +dinner-hour was always a crowded time. It was considered advisable by the +English _coterie_ to secure the meal as early as possible, but to-night +Mordaunt neglected this precaution. He did not look up when the others +left, or stir from his place until the article upon which he was engaged +was finished. + +He threw down his pen at last, and leaned back to run his eye over what +he had written. It was a very brief inspection, and he made no +corrections. + +Finally he shook the loose sheets together, added two or three sketches +from his notebook, thrust them into a directed envelope, and went to the +door. + +Holmes came to him at once along the passage. + +"Get this sealed and dispatched without delay," Mordaunt said. "The +gentleman is still waiting, I suppose?" + +"Still waiting, sir," said Holmes. + +"He has dined?" + +"If you can call it dining, sir." + +"Very well. You can go, Holmes." + +But Holmes lingered a moment. "Won't you dine yourself, sir?" + +"Later on. I am engaged just now. All right. Don't wait." + +Holmes shook his head disapprovingly without further words, and turned to +obey. + +Mordaunt closed the door and turned the key, then walked slowly across +the room to the window by which the Frenchman had sat that afternoon, and +opened it wide. The night was very dark, and through it the sea moaned +desolately. The wind was rising with the tide and blew in salt and cold, +infinitely refreshing after the stuffy heat of the day. He leaned his +head for a while against the window-frame. There was intense weariness in +his attitude. + +He uttered a great sigh at last and stood up, paused a moment, as though +to pull himself together, then, with his customary precision of movement, +he turned from the open window and walked across to the door that led +into the next room. His face was somewhat paler than usual, but perfectly +composed. + +Without hesitation he opened the door and spoke. "Now, Bertrand!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MAN TO MAN + + +There was a quick movement in answer to the summons, and in a moment the +visitor presented himself. He had taken the false hair from his face, and +his gait was no longer halting. He looked up at Mordaunt with sharp +anxiety as he came through. + +"No one else has recognized me?" he asked. + +"I believe not." + +He drew a quick breath of relief. "_Bien_! It has been an affair _très +difficile_. I have feared detection _mille fois_. Yet I did not expect +you to recognize me so soon." + +"You see, I happen to know you rather well," Mordaunt said. + +The Frenchman spread out his hands protestingly. The excitement of the +adventure had flushed his face and kindled his eyes. He looked younger +and more ardent than Mordaunt had ever seen him. The weariness that had +so grown upon him during his exile had fallen from him like a cloak. "But +you do not know me at all!" he said. + +Mordaunt passed over the remark as if he had not heard it. "What have you +come for?" he asked. + +"To see you, monsieur." The reply was as direct as the question. A +momentary challenge shone in Bertrand's eyes as he made it. + +But Mordaunt remained coldly unimpressed. "It was not a very wise move on +your part," he remarked. "You will be arrested if you are discovered. The +authorities are not ready for you yet. They are quite capable of +suppressing you for good and all if it suits their purpose." + +"I know it. But that is of no importance after to-night." Bertrand stood +and faced him squarely. "After to-night," he said, "they may do what they +will. I shall have accomplished that which I came to do." + +"And that?" said Mordaunt. He looked back into the eager eyes with the +aloofness of a stranger. His manner was too impersonal to express either +enmity or contempt. + +The keenness began to die out of Bertrand's face, and a certain dignity +took its place. "That," he made answer, "is to tell you the truth in such +a fashion that, although you think that I am a thief, you will believe +it." + +"I do not think that you are in a position to tell me anything that I do +not know already," Mordaunt answered quietly. "By the way, it may +interest you to hear that the affair of the cheque has been cleared up. I +wronged you there, but I do not think that I was responsible for the +wrong." + +"I was responsible," Bertrand said, his voice very low. "I deceived you. +And for that you will not pardon me, no?" + +But the level grey eyes looked through and beyond him. "That," Mordaunt +said, "is a matter of small importance now. Deceptions of that kind are +never excusable in my opinion; but as I do not expect you to share my +point of view, it seems scarcely worth while to discuss it." + +Bertrand bowed stiffly. "It is not of that that I desire to speak. +Of myself you will think--what you will. I have merited--and I will +endure--your displeasure. But of _la petite_"--he paused--"of +Christine"--he faltered a little, and finally amended--"of _madame votre +femme_, you will think only that which is good. For that is her nature, +that. And for me," his voice throbbed with sudden passion, "I would +rather bear any insult than that you should think otherwise of her. For +she is pure and innocent as a child. Do you not see that I would sooner +die than harm her? And it has always, always been so. You believe me, +no?" + +Mordaunt's face was as stone. "I shouldn't go on if I were you," he said. +"You have nothing whatever to gain. As I have told you, I know already +all that you can tell me upon this subject, and what I think of it is my +affair alone. It is a pity that you took the trouble to come here. If you +take my advice, you will leave me on the earliest opportunity." + +"But you are mistaken. You do not know all." Impulsively Bertrand threw +back the words. "You cannot refuse to listen to me," he said. "I appeal +to your honour, to your sense of justice. If you knew all, as you say, +you would not leave her thus. If you believed her to be blameless--as +she is--you would not abandon her in her hour of trouble. I tell you, +monsieur"--his breath quickened suddenly and he caught his hand to his +side--"if you know the truth, you are committing a crime for which no +penalty is enough severe." + +He broke off, panting, and turned towards the open window. + +Mordaunt said nothing whatever. His face was set like a mask. The only +sign of feeling he gave was in the slow clenching of one hand. + +After a few moments Bertrand wheeled round. "See!" he said. "I have +followed you here to tell you the truth face to face, as I shall tell +it--_bientôt_--to the good God. You shall bind me by any oath that you +will, though it should be enough for you that I have nothing at all to +gain, as you have said. I shall hide nothing from you. I shall extenuate +nothing. I shall tell you only the truth, man to man, as my heart knows +it. For her sake, you will listen, yes?" + +His voice slipped into sudden pleading. He stretched out his hands +persuasively to the impassive Englishman, who still seemed to be looking +through him rather than at him. He waited for an answer, but none came. + +"_Eh bien_!" he said, with a quick sigh of disappointment. "Then I shall +speak in spite of you. I begin with our meeting four years ago among the +rocks of Valpré. It was an accident by which we met. I was working to +complete my invention, and for the greater privacy I had taken it to the +old cave of the contrabandists upon the shore--a place haunted by the +spirits of the dead--so that I was safe from interruption. Or so I +thought, till one afternoon she came to me like a goddess from the sea. +She had cut her foot among the stones, and I bound it for her and carried +her back to Valpré. She was only a child then, with eyes clear as the +sunshine. She trusted herself to me as if I had been her brother. That is +easy to comprehend, is it not?" + +Again he paused for an answer, but Mordaunt said no word; his lips were +firmly closed. + +With a characteristic lift of the shoulders Bertrand continued. +"_Après cela_ we met again and then again. _La petite_ was lonely, +and I, I played with her. I drew for her the pictures in the sand. We +became--pals." He smiled with a touch of wistfulness over the word that +his English friend had taught him. "We shared our secrets. Once--she +was bathing"--his voice softened imperceptibly--"and I took her into my +boat and rowed her back. It was then that I knew first that I loved her. +Yet we remained comrades. I spoke to her no word of love. She was too +young, and I had nothing to offer. I said to myself that I would win her +when I had won my reputation, and in the meantime I would be patient. It +was not very difficult, for she did not understand. And then one day we +went to explore my cavern--she called it the Magic Cave, of which she was +the princess and I her _preux chevalier_. We were as children in those +days," he put in half-apologetically, "and it was her _fête_. _Bien_, we +started. _Le petit_ Cinders went with us, and almost before we had +entered he ran away. We followed him, for Christine was very anxious. I +had never been beyond the second cavern myself, and we had only one +lantern. We came to a place where the passage divided, and here we agreed +that she should wait while I went forward. I took the lantern. We could +hear him yelp in the distance, and she feared that he was hurt. So I left +her alone, and presently, hearing him, as I thought, in front of me, I +ran, and stumbled and fell. The lantern was broken and I was stunned. It +was long before I recovered, and then it was with great difficulty that I +returned. I found her awaiting me still, and Cinders with her. It was +dark and horrible, but she was too brave to run away. I heard her +singing, and so I found her. But by that time the sea had reached the +mouth of the cave, and there was no retreat. We had no choice. We were +prisoners for the night. It might have happened to anyone, monsieur. It +might have happened to you. You blame me--not yet?" + +Again the note of pleading was in his voice, but Mordaunt maintained his +silence. Only his eyes were no longer sphinx-like. They were fixed +intently upon the Frenchman's face. + +Bertrand went on as though he had been answered. "I kept watch all +through the night, while she slept like an infant in my arms. You would +have done the same. In the morning when the tide permitted, we laughed +over the adventure and returned to Valpré. She went to her governess and +I to the fortress. By then everybody in Valpré knew what had happened. +They had believed that we were drowned, and when we reappeared all were +astonished. Later they began to whisper, and that evening the villain +Rodolphe, being intoxicated, proposed in my presence an infamous toast. I +struck him in the mouth and knocked him down. He challenged me to a duel, +and we fought early in the morning down on the sand. But that day the +gods were not on my side. Christine and Cinders were gone to the sea to +bathe, and, as they returned, they found us fighting. _Le bon_ Cinders, +he precipitate himself between us. _La petite_ rush to stop him--too +late. Rodolphe is startled; he plunge, and my sword pierce his arm. +_C'était là un moment très difficile. La petite_ try to explain, to +apologize, and me--I lead her away. _Après cela_ she go back to England, +and I see her not again. But Rodolphe, he forgive me--never. That, +monsieur--and only that--is the true story of that which happened at +Valpré. The little Christine left--as she arrived--a pure and innocent +child." + +He stopped. Mordaunt's eyes were still studying him closely. He met them +with absolute freedom. + +"I will finish," he said, "and you shall then judge for yourself. As +you know, I had scarcely attained my ambition when I was ruined. It was +then that you first saw me. You believed me innocent, and later, when +Destiny threw me in your path, you befriended me. I have no need to tell +you what your friendship was to me. No words can express it or my +desolation now that I have lost it. I fear that I was never worthy of +your--so great--confidence." His voice shook a little, and he paused to +steady it. "It was my intention--always--to be worthy. The fault lay in +that I did not realize my weakness. I ought to have left you when I knew +that _la petite_ was become your fiancée." + +For the first time Mordaunt broke his silence. "Why not have told me the +truth?" + +Bertrand raised his shoulders. "I did not feel myself at liberty to tell +you. Afterwards, I found that her eyes had been opened, and she was +afraid for you to know. It did not seem an affair of great importance, +and I let it pass. We were pals again. She gave me her confidence, and I +would sooner have died," he spoke passionately, "than have betrayed it. I +thought that I could hide my heart from her, and that only myself would +suffer. And this I can say with truth: by no word, no look, no action, of +mine were her eyes opened. I was always _le bon frère_ to her, neither +less nor more, until the awakening came. I was always faithful to you, +monsieur. I never forgot that she belonged to you--that she was--the wife +of--my friend." + +Something seemed to rise in his throat, and he stopped sharply. A moment +later very slowly he sat down. + +"You permit me?" he said. "I am--a little--tired. As you know, I began to +see at last that I could not remain with you. I resolved to go. But the +death of Cinders prevented me. She was in trouble, and she desired me to +stay. I should have grieved her if I had refused. I was wrong, I admit +it. I should have gone then. I should have left her to you. I do not +defend myself. I only beg you to believe that I did not see the danger, +that if I had seen it I would not have remained for a single moment more. +Then came the day at Sandacre, the encounter with Rodolphe. I knew that +evening that something had passed between them; what it was she would not +tell me. I tried to persuade her then to let me tell you the whole truth. +But she was terrified--_la pauvre petite_. She thought that you would be +angry with her. She feared that you would ask questions that she could +not answer. She had kept the secret so long that she dared not reveal +it." + +"In short," Mordaunt said, "she was afraid that I should suspect her of +caring for you." + +His words were too quiet to sound brutal, but they were wholly without +mercy. Bertrand's hands gripped the arms of his chair, and he winced +visibly. + +Yet he answered with absolute candour. "Yes, monsieur. I believe she was. +I believe that it was the beginning of all this trouble. But had I known +that Rodolphe would use his knowledge to extort money from her, I would +not have yielded--no, not one inch--to her importunity. I did not know +it. Christine was afraid of me also. I had fought one duel for her; +perhaps she dreaded another. And so the mischief was done." + +"And who told you that she had been blackmailed?" Mordaunt demanded +curtly. + +Bertrand made answer without hesitation. "I heard that two days ago from +Max." + +"Max?" + +"Her brother, Max Wyndham." + +"And who told him?" + +Bertrand's black brows went up. "I believe it was his cousin Captain +Forest." + +"Ah! So he sent you, did he? I might have known he would." For the first +time Mordaunt spoke with bitterness. + +"Monsieur, no one sent me." There was dignity in Bertrand's rejoinder, a +dignity that compelled belief. "I came as soon as I knew what had +happened. I came to redress a great wrong. I came to restore to you that +which is your own property--of which, in truth, you have never been +deprived. With your permission, I will finish. On the night of the +fireworks, the night you were in London, I--betrayed myself. I cannot +tell you how it happened. I know only that my love became suddenly a +flame that I could not hide. She had been in danger, and me--I lost my +self-control. The veil was withdrawn, I could hide my love no more. I +showed her my heart just as it was, and--she showed me hers." + +Bertrand rose with none of his customary impetuosity and stood in front +of Mordaunt, meeting the steady eyes with equal steadiness. + +"I tell you the truth," he said. "We understand each other, and we love +each other. But you--you are even now more to her than I have ever been. +She has need of you as she has never had of me. You are the reality in +her life. I"--he spread out his hands--"I am the romance." + +He paused as if to gather his strength, then went rapidly on. But his +face was grey. He looked like a man who had travelled fast and far. +"Monsieur," he said very earnestly, "believe me, I do not stand between +you. I love her--I love you both--too much for that. My one desire, my +one prayer, is for her happiness--and yours. Do not, I beseech you, make +me an obstacle. You are her protector. Do not leave her unprotected!" + +Again for an instant he paused, seeming to strive after self-control. +Then suddenly he relinquished the attempt. He flung his dignity from +him; he threw himself on his knees at the impassive Englishman's feet. +"Mr. Mordaunt," he cried out brokenly, "I have told you the truth. As +a dying man, I swear to you--by God--that I have hidden nothing. +Monsieur--monsieur--go back to her--make her happy--before I die!" + +His voice dropped. He sank forward, murmuring incoherently. + +Mordaunt stooped sharply over him. "Bertrand, for Heaven's sake--" he +began, and broke off short; for the face that still tried to look into +his was so convulsed with agony that he knew him to be for the moment +beyond the reach of words. + +He lifted the huddled Frenchman to a chair with great gentleness; but the +paroxysm did not pass. It was terrible to witness. It seemed to rack him +from head to foot, and through it he still strove to plead, though his +speech was no more than broken sound, inexpressibly painful to hear, +impossible to understand. + +Mordaunt bent over him at last, all his hardness merged into pity. "My +dear fellow, don't!" he said. "Give yourself time. Haven't you anything +with you that will relieve this pain?" + +Bertrand could not answer him. He made a feeble gesture with his right +hand; his left was clenched and rigid. + +Mordaunt began to feel in his pockets; his touch was as gentle as a +woman's. But his search was unavailing. He only found an empty bottle. +Bertrand had evidently taken the remedy it had contained earlier in the +evening. + +He turned to get some brandy, but Bertrand clutched at his sleeve and +detained him. "Max is here," he gasped. "Find Max! He--knows!" + +His hand fell away, and Mordaunt went to the door. Holmes had returned to +his post in the passage. He came forward as the door opened. + +"Mr. Max Wyndham is somewhere here," Mordaunt said. "Go and find him, and +bring him back with you--at once." + +Holmes nodded comprehension and went. + +Mordaunt turned back into the room. Bertrand had slipped to the floor +again, and was lying face downwards. His breathing was anguished, but he +made no other sound. + +Mordaunt poured out some brandy and went to him. He knelt down by his +side and tried to administer it. But Bertrand could not drink. He could +only gasp. Yet after a moment his hand came out gropingly and touched +the man beside him. + +Mordaunt took it and held it. + +"You--believe me?" Bertrand jerked out. + +"I believe you," Mordaunt answered very gravely. + +"You--you forgive?" + +Painfully the question came. It went into silence. But the hand that had +taken Bertrand's closed slowly and very firmly. + +"_Et la petite--la petite--_" faltered Bertrand. + +The silence endured for seconds. It seemed as if no answer would come. +And through it the man's anguished breathing came and went with a +dreadful pumping sound as of some broken machinery. + +At last, slowly, as though he weighed each word before he uttered it, +Mordaunt spoke. + +"You may trust her to me," he said. + +And the hand in his stirred and gripped in gratitude, Bertrand de +Montville had not spent himself in vain. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MESSENGER + + +"Roses!" said Chris. "How nice!" + +She held the white blossoms that Jack had sent her against her face, and +smiled. + +It was a very pathetic smile, a wan ghost of gaiety, possessing more of +bravery than mirth. She lay on a couch by the window, looking out under +the sun-blinds at the dusty green of the park. Though October had begun, +the summer was not yet over, and the heat was considerable. It seemed +oppressive after the fresh air of the moors, and Hilda watched her +cousin's languor with some anxiety. For her face had scarcely more colour +than the flowers she held. + +"Is the paper here?" asked Chris. + +She also was closely following the progress of the Valpré trial. Though +she never discussed it, Hilda was aware that it was the only thing in +life in which she took any interest just then. + +She gave her the paper containing the last account that Mordaunt had +written, and for nearly an hour Chris was absorbed in it. At last, with a +sigh, she laid it down, and drew the roses to her again. + +"It's very dear of Jack to send them. Hilda, don't you want to go out? +You mustn't stay in always for me." + +"I want you to come out too, dear," Hilda said. + +"I? Oh, please, dear, I'd rather not." Chris spoke quickly, almost +beseechingly. She laid a very thin hand upon Hilda's. "You don't mind?" +she said persuasively. + +Hilda took the little hand and stroked it. "Chris darling," she said, "do +you know what is the matter with you?" + +The quick blood rushed up over the pale face, spread to the temples, and +then faded utterly away. "Yes," whispered Chris. + +Hilda leaned down, and very tenderly kissed her. "I felt sure you did. +And that's why you will make an effort to get strong, isn't it, dear? It +isn't as if it were just for your own sake any more. You will try, my own +Chris?" + +But Chris turned her face away with quivering lips. "I think--and I +hope--that I shall die," she said. + +"Chris, my darling--" + +"Yes," Chris insisted. "If it shocks you I can't help it. I don't want to +live, and I don't want my child to live, either. Life is too hard. If--if +I had had any choice in the matter, I would never have been born. And so +if I die before the baby comes, it is the best thing that could possibly +happen for either of us. And I think--I think"--she hesitated momentarily +before a name she had not uttered for weeks--"Trevor would say the same." + +"My dear child, I am quite sure he wouldn't!" Hilda spoke with most +unaccustomed vigour. "I am quite sure that if he knew of this, he would +be with you to-day." + +"Oh no, indeed!" Chris said. She spoke quite quietly, with absolute +conviction. "You don't know him, Hilda. You only judge him from outside. +If he knew--well, yes, he might possibly think it his duty to be near me. +But not because he cared. You see--he doesn't. His love is quite dead. +And"--she began to shiver--"I don't like dead things; they frighten me. +So you won't let anyone tell him; promise me!" + +"But, my dear, he would love the child--his child," urged Hilda softly. + +"Oh, that would be worse!" Chris turned sharply from her. "If he loved +the child--and--and--hated the mother!" + +"Chris! Chris! You are torturing yourself with morbid ideas! Such a thing +would be impossible." + +"Not with him," said Chris, shuddering. "He is not like Percy, you know. +You think him gentle and kind, but he is quite different, really. He is +as hard--and as cold--as iron. Ah, here is Noel!" She broke off with +obvious relief. "Come in, dear old boy. I've been wondering where you +were." + +Noel came in. He usually haunted Chris's room during the day. The +Davenants had done their utmost to persuade him to go to school, but Noel +had taken the conduct of his affairs into his own hands, and firmly +refused. + +"I shan't go while Chris is ill," he declared flatly. "We'll see what +she's like at the mid-term." + +Jack's authority was invoked in vain, for Jack was on the youngster's +side. + +"I've squared him," said Noel, with satisfaction. "Of course, I'm sorry +to be a burden to you, Hilda, but I'll pay up when I come of age." + +Which promise invariably silenced Hilda's protests, and made Lord Percy +chuckle. + +Aunt Philippa was still absent upon her autumn round of visits, a +circumstance for which Noel was openly and devoutly thankful. Not that +her influence was by any means paramount with him, but her presence might +of itself have been sufficient to drive him away. The only person who +could really manage him was his brother-in-law, but as he had apparently +forgotten Noel's very existence, it seemed unlikely that his authority +would be brought to bear upon him. Meanwhile, Noel swaggered in and out +of his sister's presence, penniless but content, and Chris plainly liked +to have him. + +On the present occasion he interrupted their conversation without +apology, pushed Chris's feet to one side, and seated himself on the end +of the sofa. + +"Do you mind if I smoke?" he said to Hilda. + +"Yes, I do," said Hilda. + +"All right, then. You'd better go." He pulled a clay pipe out of his +pocket, and an envelope that contained tobacco. "I know Chris doesn't +mind," he said, with a twinkling glance in her direction. "Also, my +cousin, someone wants you in the next room." + +"Who is it?" said Hilda. + +"Don't ask me," said Noel. + +She hesitated momentarily. "Well, I suppose I must go. But mind, Noel, +you are not to smoke in here." + +"Say please!" said Noel imperturbably. + +"Please!" said Hilda obediently. + +He rose and accompanied her to the door. "Madam, your wishes shall be +respected." + +He opened the door with a flourish, bowed her out, closed it, and softly +turned the key. + +Then he wheeled round to his sister with gleaming eyes. "That's done the +trick, I bet. Trevor has just turned up with Jack. But you needn't be +afraid. I shan't let him in." + +"What!" said Chris. + +She started up, uttering the word like a cry. + +Noel left the door swiftly, and came to her. "It's all right, old girl. +Don't you worry yourself. We'll hold the fort, never fear. He shan't come +in here, unless you say the word." + +Chris's hands clutched him with feverish strength. Her face was deathly. +"Oh, Noel!" she breathed. "Oh, Noel!" + +He hugged her reassuringly. "It's all right, I tell you. Don't get in a +blue funk for nothing. He's not coming in here to bully you." + +But Chris only clung faster to him, not breathing. The sudden shock had +sent all the blood to her heart. She felt choked and powerless. + +"There! Lie down again," said Noel. "I'm here. I'll take care of you. I +knew he would turn up again; it's what I've been waiting for. But I swear +he shan't come near you against your will. That's enough, isn't it? You +know you are safe with me." + +She could not answer him, but she crouched back upon the sofa in response +to his persuasion. She was shaking from head to foot. + +Noel sat solidly down beside her. "Don't be frightened," he said. "We're +going to have some fun." + +"What--what can he have come for?" whispered Chris. + +"Goodness knows! But he isn't going to get it, anyway. Good old Hilda! +She went like a bird, didn't she? I call this rather amusing." + +Noel began to whistle under his breath, obviously enjoying the situation +to the utmost. + +But Chris restrained him. "I want to listen," she murmured piteously. + +He became silent at once, and several seconds crawled away, accompanied +by no sound save the interminable buzzing of a fly on the window-pane. + +Noel arose at length and with a single swoop of the hand captured and +killed it. Then he went back to Chris. + +"I say, don't look so scared! No one is going to hurt you." + +The words were hardly uttered before Hilda's light step sounded outside, +and her hand tried the door. + +Chris started violently, and cowered among her cushions. Noel chuckled +softly. + +"Chris dear, what is the matter? Let me in!" Anxiety and persuasion were +mingled in Hilda's voice. + +Noel's chuckle became audible. "She isn't going to. She doesn't want +anyone but me. Do you, Chris?" + +Chris made no reply. She was staring at the door with starting eyes. + +Noel went leisurely across and set his back against it. His eyes still +gleamed roguishly, but his mouth had ceased to smile. + +"I say, Hilda," he said, over his shoulder, "if you want to do Chris a +good turn, tell that beastly cad behind you to go. I shan't let him in, +anyhow, not if he stays till doomsday. So he may as well clear out at +once." + +"My dear Noel, how can you be so absurd?" Hilda's placid tones held real +annoyance for once. + +But the cause of it was quite unimpressed. + +"Your dear Noel is acting up to his lights," he returned, "and he has no +intention of doing anything else, absurd or otherwise. Chris is nearly +scared out of her wits, so you had better take my advice sharp." + +This last information took instant effect upon Hilda. She turned her +attention to Chris forthwith. + +"My dear, do let me in! There is nothing whatever to frighten you. I +promise you shall not be frightened. Chris, tell that absurd boy to open +the door--please, dearest!" + +"I--can't!" gasped Chris. + +"She isn't going to," said Noel. "You run along, Hilda. And you can tell +Trevor with my love that if he'll clear out now I'll meet him at any time +and place he likes to mention and have a damned old row." + +"Very good of you!" Another voice spoke on the other side of the door, +and Noel jumped in spite of himself. "But at the present moment you don't +count. Is Chris there? I want to speak to her." + +The leisurely tones came, measured and distinct, through the closed door, +and Chris covered her face and shivered. "Oh, you'll have to let him in!" +she said. "Only--don't go away! Don't leave me alone with him!" + +"Chris!" Mordaunt's voice, calm and unhurried, addressed her directly. +"Jack is here with me. Will you let us in?" + +Chris lifted a haggard face. "Open the door, Noel!" she said. + +"Why?" demanded Noel, with sudden ferocity. "We are not going to knock +under to him. Why should we?" + +"It's no use," she said. "We can't help it. Besides--besides--" She broke +off with something like a sob, and rose from the sofa. + +Noel looked at her under drawn brows. "You really mean it?" + +"Yes." She pushed the hair from her forehead, and made a great effort to +still her agitation. "I do mean it, Noel. I--wish it." + +"All right." The boy whizzed round and turned the key. + +He met Mordaunt face to face on the threshold with clenched hands, his +face dark with passion. "If you hurt her--I'll kill you!" he said. + +Had Mordaunt laughed at him, he would probably have attempted to carry +out his threat then and there, for his mood was tempestuous. But the +quiet eyes that met his blazing ones held no derision. They went beyond +him instantly, seeking the girlish figure that leaned against the +sofa-head for support; but a hand grasped his shoulder at the same moment +and turned him back into the room. + +"I shan't quarrel with you on that account," Mordaunt said. "You can stay +if you like, and satisfy yourself." + +Jack entered behind him, and went straight to Chris. He took her +quivering hands into his, and held them fast. + +"That boy deserves to be horsewhipped for startling you like this," he +said. + +She smiled at him wanly, but not as if she heard his words. "You will +stay with me, Jack?" she said beseechingly. + +"If you wish it, dear. But Trevor wants to say something rather private. +Really, you have nothing to be afraid of." + +His kindly eyes looked down reassuringly into hers. They seemed to reason +with her, to persuade and soothe at the same time. + +But Chris's hands clung to his. "Don't--don't go!" she said. "I want +you--I want you, Jack." + +"Suppose we sit down," said Jack practically. "Trevor, I wish you'd kick +that boy downstairs. It would do him good and me too. This isn't a family +conclave." + +"Noel can stay," Mordaunt answered quietly. He was still looking towards +his wife, but he did not seem to be regarding her very intently. "You are +mistaken in thinking that I have anything to say to Chris in private. I +have only come to tell her what I have already told you, that Bertrand is +at Valpré, ill and wanting her. I will take her to him--if she will +come." + +"Trevor!" She turned to him with eyes of sudden horror--horror so +definite that it swamped all her personal shrinking. "How is he ill? +You--you have hurt him!" + +"I have done nothing to him," Mordaunt answered. "He is suffering from +heart-disease, and cannot be moved. I must start from Charing Cross in an +hour. Will you come with me?" + +"To go to him?" Her eyes were still dilated, but they did not waver from +his. + +"To go to him." He repeated the words with precision, and waited for her +answer. + +But Chris sat in silence, her hands in Jack's. + +"Look here," Noel broke in abruptly, "if Chris goes, I go." + +"Very well," Mordaunt said. "If Chris desires it, you may." + +Chris came out of her silence with a little shudder, and turned to the +man beside her. "Jack, tell me what to do!" + +"I think you had better go, dear," Jack said. + +"But if--but if--oh, is he very ill?" She looked again at her husband. + +"He is very ill indeed," Mordaunt said. + +"You think I ought to go?" She asked the question with an obvious effort. + +"I have come to fetch you," he said. + +"Then--he is dying!" she said, with sudden conviction. + +Mordaunt was silent. + +Abruptly she left Jack and went up to him. "Trevor," she said, "would you +want to take me to him if--if--" + +"If--?" he repeated quietly. + +"If you thought I was doing wrong to go?" + +He made a slight movement, as if the question were unexpected. "I should +have explained to you," he said, "that your brother Max is in charge of +him, so that when I am not with you--and, as you know, I am attending the +Rodolphe trial--you will not be alone." + +"Oh, Max is there!" she said, with relief. "But what is he doing at +Valpré?" + +"He went there with Bertrand." + +"But I thought Bertrand could not go to France," she hazarded. + +"He went in disguise." + +"Why?" Her lips trembled upon the word. + +"Because he had something to say to me." With the utmost calmness his +answer came. + +"Ah!" She started and turned so white that he put out a hand to steady +her. + +She laid her own within it, as it were instinctively, because she needed +support. + +"What was it?" she whispered. + +He looked at her gravely. "Are you afraid to be alone with me?" he said. + +"No." + +"Then--quick march!" said Jack, with his hand through Noel's arm. + +They went out together, Noel glancing back for the smallest sign from his +sister to remain. + +But she made none. She stood quite still, with her hand in her husband's, +waiting. + +As the door closed Mordaunt spoke. "Have you been ill?" + +"No," she said faintly. "Not--not really ill." + +She was aware of his close scrutiny for a moment, but she made not the +slightest attempt to meet it. + +"You want to know what Bertrand said to me," he said. "And you have a +right to know. He told me the whole history of your friendship from the +beginning to the end." + +"He told you about--about Valpré?" Her eyelids quivered, as if she wished +to raise them but dared not. + +"Yes." + +"Then you know--" Her hand fluttered in his. + +"I know everything," he said. + +Her white face quivered piteously. "And you--you are still angry?" + +"No, I am not angry." He led her back to the sofa. "Sit down a minute," +he said. "I don't think you are quite fit for this, and if you are going +back with me to Valpré, you will need to reserve your strength." + +He sat down beside her, both her hands firmly clasped in his, as if +thereby he would impart to her the strength she lacked. + +"You mean me to go, then?" murmured Chris. + +"Don't you want to go?" he asked. + +"If he really wants me--" she faltered. "And if you--you wish it, too." + +"My dear," he said, "do my wishes make any real difference?" + +She caught her breath sharply, and bent her head that he might not see +her face. "Yes," she whispered, under her breath. + +"Very well," he said, "I wish it, too." + +She was silent, but suddenly her tears began to fall upon the strong +hands that held hers. She would have given anything to have repressed +them at that moment. With her whole soul she shrank from showing him her +weakness, but it overpowered her. She bowed her head lower still, and +wept. + +He sat quite motionless for seconds, so that even in the depth of her +distress she marvelled at his patience. But at last, very gently, he +moved, let her hands go, and rose. + +He stood awhile turned from her, his face to the window, though the +sun-blind was all that could have met his view; finally, with grave +kindness, he spoke. + +"I think I had better leave you to prepare for the journey. There is not +much time at your disposal, and you will probably need it all. It is +settled that Noel is to go with us?" + +"You won't mind?" she whispered. + +"I think it a very good plan," he answered. + +He turned round and came back to her. She had commanded herself to a +certain extent, but still she could not raise her face. She waited +tensely as he approached, possessed by a sudden, almost delirious longing +to feel the touch of his lips. + +Her desire surged into leaping hope as he stopped beside her. Would +he--could he? But he did not stoop. He only laid his hand for a moment +upon her head. + +"Chris," he said, "try to think of me as a friend--and don't be afraid." + +She thrilled at the low-spoken words. In another moment she would have +conquered all hesitation and sprung up to feel his arms about her, to +hide her face against him, to open to him all her quivering heart. But +for that moment he did not wait. + +With the utterance of the words his hand fell, and he moved away. + +The opening and the closing of the door told her he had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ARREST + + +"Ah, but what a night for dreams!" + +The cool salt air came in from the sea like a benediction, blowing softly +about the sick man by the window, sending a gleam of life into eyes grown +weary with long suffering. He leaned back upon his pillows for the first +time in many hours. + +"It is as if the door of heaven had opened," he said. + +"You're not going yet, old chap!" Max answered, a curious blending of +grimness and tenderness in his voice. + +"But no--not yet--not yet." Softly Bertrand made answer, but resolution +throbbed in his words also. "I must not fail her--my little pal--my bird +of Paradise. But the night is very long, Max, _mon ami_. And the +darkness--the darkness--" + +Max's hand came quietly down and closed upon his wrist. "I'll see you +through," he said. + +"Yes--yes. You will help me. You are one of those created to help. That +is why you will be great. The great men are always--those who help." + +The words came slowly, sometimes with difficulty, but the young medical +student made no attempt to check them. He only sat with shrewd eyes upon +the sick man's face and alert finger on his wrist, marking the waning +strength while he listened. For he knew that the night was long. + +Years afterwards it came to be said of him that his patients never died +until his back was turned. It was not strictly true, but it conveyed +something of the magnetism with which he wrought upon them. He knew the +crucial moment by instinct, when to grapple and when to slacken his hold, +and he never went by rule. + +And so on that his second night of vigil by the side of a dying man, +though he recognized speech as a danger, he made no effort to silence +him. He knew that weariness of the spirit that finds no vent was a +greater danger still. + +"So you think I have a future before me?" he said. + +"I am sure of it." Bertrand spoke with conviction. "It will not be an +easy future, _mon ami_. Perhaps it will not be happy. Those who climb +have no time to gather the flowers by the way. But--it will be great. You +desire that, yes?" + +"In a fashion," Max said. "I don't know that I consider greatness in +itself as specially valuable. Do you?" + +"I?" said Bertrand. "But I have passed all that. There was a time when +ambition was to me as the breath of life. I thought of nothing else. And +then"--his voice dropped a little--"there came a greater thing--the +greatest of all. And I knew that I had climbed above ambition. I knew +success and fame as a procession that passes--that passes--the mirage in +the desert--the dream in the midst of our great Reality. I knew all this +before my ruin came. It was as if a light had suddenly been held up, and +I saw the work of my life as pictures in the sand. Then the great tide +rushed up, and all was washed away. But yet"--his voice vibrated, he +looked at Max and smiled--"the light remained. For a time, indeed, I was +blind, but the light came back to me. And I know now that it was always +there." + +He paused, and turned his head sharply. + +"What is it?" said Max. + +"I heard a sound." + +"There are plenty of sounds in this place," Max pointed out. + +"Ah! but this was different. It sounded like--" He stopped with a gasp +that made Max frown. + +Undoubtedly there was a sound outside, the tread of feet, the jingle of a +sword. Max got up, still frowning, and went to the door. + +He had barely reached it before there came a loud knock upon the panels, +and a voice cried: "_Ouvrez_!" + +Max's knowledge of French was exceedingly limited, but that fact by no +means dismayed him. He turned round to Bertrand for a moment. + +"I'm going to have a talk with this johnny. Don't agitate yourself. You +are not to move till I come back." + +"_Ouvrez_!" cried the voice again. + +"All right?" questioned Max. + +Bertrand was leaning forward. His eyes were very bright, his breathing +very short. "They have come--to take me," he said. + +"I'll see them damned first," said Max. "You keep still, and leave it to +me." + +His hand was on the door with the words. A moment more he stood, +thick-set and British, looking back. Then with a curt nod, he opened the +door, and passed instantly out, pulling it after him. + +Half a dozen soldiers filled the passage. The one who had knocked--an +officer--stood face to face with him. + +"Now what do you want?" asked Max. + +He stood, holding the door-handle, his red brows drawn, a glint of battle +in the green eyes beneath them. And so, during a brief silence, they +measured each other. + +Then quite courteously the Frenchman spoke. "Monsieur, my duty brings me +here. Will you have the goodness to open that door?" + +"It's a good thing you can speak English," Max remarked, with his +one-sided smile. "What do you want to go in there for? The room is mine." + +"And you are entertaining a friend there, monsieur." The Frenchman still +spoke suavely; he even smiled an answering smile. + +"That is so," Max said. "Do you know his name?" + +"It is Bertrand de Montville." There was no hesitation in the reply. He +looked as if he expected the Englishman to move aside, as he made it. But +Max stood his ground. + +"And what is your business with him?" he asked. + +The officer's brows went up. "Monsieur?" + +"You have come to arrest him?" Max questioned. + +The Frenchman hesitated for a moment, then: "I must do my duty," he said. + +The green eyes contemplated him thoughtfully for a space. Then, "I +suppose you know he is dying?" Max said slowly. + +"Dying, monsieur!" The tone was sharp, the speaker plainly incredulous. + +Max explained without emotion. "He is suffering from an incurable disease +of the heart, caused by hardship and starvation. If you go in and agitate +him now, I won't give that for his chances of lasting through the night." + +He snapped his fingers without taking his eyes from the other's face. + +"Is it true?" the Frenchman said. + +"It is absolutely true." Max spoke quietly, but there was force behind +his words. "You can do what you like to safeguard him, though he is quite +incapable of getting away. You can surround the house and post sentries +at the door. But unless you want to kill him outright, you won't take him +away from here. You can send one of your own doctors to certify what I +say. You don't want to kill him, I presume?" + +The Frenchman was listening attentively. It was evident that Max Wyndham +was making an impression. + +"My orders are to arrest him and to take him to the fortress," he said. + +"Dead or alive?" asked Max. + +"But certainly not dead, monsieur. All France will be calling for him +to-morrow." + +"That's the funny part of it," said Max. "France should have thought of +that before. Well, sir, if you want him to live, all you can do is to +wait. I will keep him going through the night, and you can send a doctor +round in the morning." + +"You are a doctor?" asked the Frenchman keenly. + +"No. I am a medical student." + +"And you are friends, _hein_?" + +"Yes, we are friends. It was I who brought him here." + +"But what a pity, monsieur!" There was a touch of kindly feeling in the +words. + +"Yes," Max acknowledged grimly. "It was a pity. But his reason for coming +was urgent. And, after all, it made little difference. It has only +hastened by a few weeks the end that was bound to come." + +"You think that he will die?" + +"Yes." Max spoke briefly. His tone was one of indifference. + +The Frenchman looked at him curiously. "And what was his reason for +coming?" + +"It was a strictly private one," Max said. "This trial had nothing to do +with it. It will certainly never be made public, so I am not at liberty +to speak of it." + +"And has he done--that which he left England to do?" + +"Not yet, sir, but he may do it--if he lives long enough." Again Max's +tone was devoid of all feeling. He still stood planted squarely against +the closed door. + +"And you think he will not do that?" + +"On the contrary," said Max, "I think he will--if I am with him to keep +him going." + +He spoke with true British doggedness, and a gleam of humour crossed the +Frenchman's face. He made a brief bow. + +"M. de Montville is fortunate to possess such a friend," he said. + +The corner of Max's mouth went down. "As to that," he said dryly, "he +might do a good deal better, and a very little worse. Now, sir, what are +you going to do?" + +The Frenchman looked quizzical. "It seems that I must take your advice, +monsieur, or risk very serious consequences. I shall leave a guard here +during the night, and I must ask you to give me the key of this door. +_Après cela_"--he shrugged his shoulders--"_nous verrons_." + +Max turned without protest, opened the door, and withdrew the key. He +stood a moment listening before he turned back and laid it in the +officer's hand. His face was grave. + +"I think I must go to him," he said. "You will see to it that he is not +disturbed?" + +"No one will enter without your permission," the Frenchman answered. "And +you, monsieur, will remain with him until I return." + +"I see," said Max. Again, for an instant, the fighting gleam was in his +eyes, then carelessly he laughed. "Well, I shan't try to run away. He and +I are down in the same lot. You would find it harder to turn me out than +to keep me here." + +"I believe it, monsieur." There was no irony in the words or in the bow +that accompanied them. "And I repeat, he is a happy man who possesses +your friendship." + +"Oh, rats!" said Max, and suddenly turned scarlet. "You are talking +through your hat, sir. If you've quite done, I'll go." + +It was the most boyish utterance he had permitted himself, and as he gave +vent to it he was so obviously ill at ease that the Frenchman smiled. + +"But you are younger than I thought," he said. "Will you shake hands?" + +Max gave his customary hard grip. They looked into each other's eyes for +a moment, and separated with mutual respect. + +Five seconds later Max had returned to his self-appointed task of helping +a dying man to live through the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +VALPRÉ AGAIN + + +"How dark it is!" said Chris. "And how we are crawling!" + +She turned her white face from the carriage-window with the words. They +were the first she had uttered since leaving Paris. + +Neither of her two companions responded at once. Noel was curled up in +the farther corner asleep, and her husband sitting opposite was writing +rapidly in a notebook. He stopped to finish his sentence before he looked +up. She was conscious of a little sense of chill because he did so. + +"Why don't you try to get a sleep?" he said then. "We shall not reach +Valpré for another two hours." + +"I can't sleep," she said. + +Her eyes avoided his instinctively. They were more nearly alone together +at this moment than they had been since their brief interview that +morning at the Davenants' flat. It seemed weeks ago to Chris already. + +"Have you tried?" he asked. + +"No." + +He did not make the obvious rejoinder, but glanced again at his writing, +added something, and put it away. Then, with his usual deliberation of +movement, he left his seat and came over to her side. + +She had a moment of desperate shyness as he sat down. "Don't let me +interrupt you," she said nervously. + +He ignored the words, as if he considered them foolish "I should like you +to get a little sleep," he said. "You have had a long day. Look at that +fellow over there, setting the good example." + +"He hasn't so much to think about," said Chris, with a smile that +quivered in spite of her. + +"Are you thinking very hard?" he asked. + +"Yes." She brought out the word with an effort, for suddenly she wanted +to cry again, and she was determined to keep back her tears this time. + +He made no comment, but sat and looked at the blank darkness of the +window. + +After a time she mastered herself, and stole a glance at his grave face. + +"You--I suppose you will be busy at the court again to-morrow?" she said. + +"Yes." He turned to her in his quiet way. "It will be the last day in all +probability." + +"You think the verdict will be made known?" + +"Yes." + +She shivered a little. "And the sentence?" + +"The sentence will probably not be disclosed till later." + +She shivered again, and he reached forward and drew the window a little +higher. + +"I'm not cold," she said quickly. "Trevor, aren't you--just +a little--sorry for him?" + +"For whom?" + +"For the prisoner--for--for Captain Rodolphe." She stammered the name +with downcast eyes. + +"No." Very calmly and very decidedly came his answer. "I have no pity for +a man of that sort. I think he should be shot." + +"Oh, do you?" she said with a gasp. + +"Yes, I do. A treacherous scoundrel like that is worse than a murderer in +my opinion. So is anyone who is fundamentally untrustworthy." + +"Oh, but--but--Trevor--," she said, and suddenly there was a note of +pleading in her halting words, "that includes the weak people with the +wicked. Don't you think--that is rather hard?" + +"Quite possibly." He made the admission in a tone she did not understand, +and relapsed into silence. + +She felt as if the subject were closed, and did not venture to pursue it. + +But after a moment he surprised her by a quiet question: "Why don't you +try to convince me that I am wrong?" + +She looked up at him quickly, as if compelled. His eyes were waiting for +hers, met them, held them. + +"I am not suggesting that you should defend Rodolphe," he said. "You were +not thinking of him. He is not one of the weak." + +"I was thinking of myself," she said. "And--and--and--" She wavered and +stopped. + +"Rupert?" he suggested. + +She caught her breath. "What made you think of him?" + +"You were thinking of him, were you not?" + +She made a gesture of helplessness. "Yes." + +"I see," he said. "But you needn't be anxious about Rupert. He came to me +long ago and told me the truth." + +She opened her eyes wide. "What made him do that?" + +"He heard that Bertrand was bearing the blame for his misdeeds, and he +had the decency to be ashamed of himself." + +"Oh!" said Chris. She was silent for a moment, still meeting his steady +gaze. Suddenly her mouth quivered and she turned from them. "Trevor, I--I +am ashamed too." + +"Hush!" he said. + +The word was brief, it sounded stern; but in the same instant his hand +found hers and held it very tightly. + +She mastered herself with a great effort in response to his insistence. +"Were you very angry with him?" she whispered. + +"No." + +"You didn't--punish him in any way?" + +"No. I told him to forget it and said I should do the same. As a matter +of fact, I had forgotten it until this moment." Mordaunt's tone was +unemotional; he released her hand as he was speaking, and again she was +conscious of that small sense of chill. + +"You forgave him, then?" she said. + +"Yes, I did." He paused a moment; then: "By and bye," he said, "Rupert +will take on the management of the Kellerton estate, and I think he will +probably be a great help to me." + +Chris's eyes shot upwards in amazement. "Trevor! Not really?" + +He smiled a little. "Yes, really. It is the sort of life that suits him +best; and he will be pretty busy, so it ought to keep him out of +mischief." + +"Oh, but, Trevor--" she said, and stopped short. + +"Well?" he said gently. + +"I didn't think you would do that," she murmured in confusion. "I didn't +think you would ever trust any of us again." + +"You think I may regret it?" he said. + +She turned her face to the window and made no answer. + +He sat beside her for a little longer in silence, then rose, bundled up a +travelling-rug to form a cushion, and arranged it in her corner. "Lean +against that," he said kindly. "I know you can sleep if you don't try not +to." + +She thanked him with trembling lips, and as he turned away she caught his +hand for a moment and held it to her cheek. + +He withdrew it at once though with absolute gentleness. He did not speak +a word. + +Thereafter she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but the drumming of +the train was in her ears perpetually, and she could not forget it. +Present also was the consciousness of her husband's quiet watchfulness. +Though he held aloof from her, his care surrounded her unceasingly. Not +once had she felt it relax since she had placed herself in his charge. +Did he guess? she asked herself, and trembled inwardly. He was being very +kind to her in a distant, measured fashion. Was that the reason for it? +Could it be? + +Her thoughts went back to her talk with her cousin, to the bitter words +she had uttered. Would he really care if she were to die? Would he? Would +he? She longed to know. + +But of course he would not, or he could not be so cold. For Bertrand's +sake he had come to fetch her. He had evidently forgiven Bertrand just as +he had forgiven Rupert. He forgave everybody but her, she thought to +herself forlornly. For his wife alone he could not make allowances. + +Again the hot tears welled up, and her closed lids could not keep them +back. The dumb anxiety that had gnawed at her heart all through the day +returned upon her overwhelmingly, became a burden too heavy to be borne. +She covered her face and sobbed. + +"Chris!" Her husband's voice came down to her in the depths of her +distress. His hand pressed her head. "Leave off crying," he said. "You +mustn't cry." + +She turned her face upwards, all blinded with tears. "Trevor, I know--I +know we shan't be in time!" + +They were not the words she wanted to say to him, but they came uppermost +and were uttered almost before she knew. She wondered if they would make +him angry, but it was too late to recall them. She reached out her hands +to him imploringly. + +"Oh, forgive me for caring so much!" + +"Hush!" he said again very gently. "I understand." + +He put the hair back from her forehead, and dried her eyes. There was +something almost maternal in his touch. + +"You mustn't cry," he said again. "I think you will be in time, and if +you are, you will need all your strength; so you mustn't waste it now. +Come, you are going to be brave?" + +"I'll try," she said faintly. + +"See if you can get to sleep," he said. + +"But I know I can't," whispered Chris. + +"I think you can." He spoke with grave conviction. + +"Will you--will you hold my hand?" faltered Chris. + +He took it at once. She felt his fingers close steadily upon it, and a +sense of comfort stole over her. She clasped them very tightly, and +closed her eyes. + +The train drummed on through the night, bearing her back to Valpré, back +to the old enchantments, to the sands, the caves, and the rocks. She +began to hear again the long, low wash of the sea. Or was it the sound of +wheels that raced over the metals? Before her inner vision came the +spreading line of foam that had rushed how often to catch her dancing +feet. And the quiet pools crystal-clear among the rocks, with the +sunshine that turned their pebbly floors to gold, so that they became +palaces of delight, draped with exquisite curtains of rose and palest +green, peopled with scuttling crabs that were not really crabs at all, +but the spellbound retinue of the knight who dwelt in the Magic Cave. + +She looked towards the Gothic archway, expectant, with quickening +breath. Surely he would be coming soon! Ah, now she saw him--a radiant, +white-clad figure, with the splendour of eternal youth upon him and the +Deathless Magic in his eyes. + +And suddenly her own eyes were opened, so that she knew beyond all +doubting that the spell that bound him--that bound them both--was the +spell of Immortality, the Divine Passport--Love the Indestructible. + +Thereafter came a wondrous peace, solacing her, calming her, wrapping her +round. Once she stirred, and was conscious of a quiet hand holding hers, +lulling her to a more assured restfulness. And so at last she slipped +into the quiet of a deep slumber, and the throbbing anxiety sank utterly +away. + +When she opened her eyes again it was in answer to her husband's voice. +She awoke quite naturally to find him bending over her. + +"We are at Valpré," he said. + +She sat up quickly. "Why, I have been asleep!" + +"Yes," he said. "And you will be the better for it. Noel has gone to +secure a conveyance. The place is crammed, as you know. You are feeling +all right?" + +Again for a moment she felt his scrutiny, and her heart quickened under +it. But she mustered a smile. + +"Yes, quite. You will let me come with you, Trevor? You won't go on +first?" + +"I shall not leave you," he said. + +He gave her his hand to descend from the train, and she clung to it while +they threaded their way through the noisy, gesticulating crowd that +thronged the platform. + +She breathed a sigh of relief when she found herself at last in the +ramshackle _fiacre_ which Noel by strenuous effort had managed to +commandeer. The din bewildered her. But for her husband's protecting +presence she would have felt like a lost child. + +As they rumbled away over the stones of Valpré he spoke. "We are in time, +Chris." + +Her heart gave a great throb. "Are we? But how do you know?" + +"Everyone is talking of him," he said quietly. "And I gather that he has +been arrested." + +"Oh, Trevor!" she breathed in dismay. + +"Max is with him," he reminded her. "I don't think they would get rid of +him very easily. We shall know more when we get there." + +They clattered on to the _plage_, and the cold sea wind blew in upon +them. + +Noel snuffed it appreciatively. "Smells decent, anyway. Wonder if they're +still running the same old show. I say, Chris, do you remember the Goat?" + +Chris did. With her face to the dark sea and the sound of its waves in +her ears, she recalled the old light-hearted days and the shrill +admonitions of Mademoiselle Gautier. How often had she prophesied +disaster for her charge among the rocks of Valpré! Chris smiled a little +piteous smile. Ah, well! + +The _fiacre_ jerked and jolted over the stones. They left the _plage_ +behind and came to a standstill with a violent swerve. + +"Now what?" said Noel. + +They seemed to have come suddenly upon a crowd of people. Late though it +was, all Valpré apparently was awake and abroad. + +They staggered on again at a snail's pace, hearing voices all about +them, now and then catching glimpses of faces in the light of the +carriage-lamps. + +"Feels like a funeral procession!" observed Noel jocularly. + +"Shut up!" said Mordaunt curtly. + +Chris squeezed his hand very hard and said nothing. + +Slowly, slowly they drew near to the hotel. A glare of lights shone upon +them. The whole place was a buzz of excitement. + +They turned into the courtyard, passing two soldiers on guard at the +gate. No one spoke to them, or attempted to delay their progress. They +stopped before the swing-doors. + +An obsequious official came forward to greet them as they descended, and +Mordaunt entered into conversation with him. Two soldiers were on guard +here also, standing like images on each side of the entrance. Noel +studied them with frank interest. Chris stood and waited as one in a +dream. + +At last her husband turned to her. He introduced the obsequious one, who +bowed very low and declared himself enchanted. And then she found herself +moving through the vestibule, where a great many men of all nationalities +looked at her curiously and a great babble of voices hummed like some +immense machinery. + +She turned to the man beside her with a touch of nervousness, and at once +his hand closed upon her arm. + +"Bertrand is still living," he said. + +She looked up at him imploringly. "Can't we go to him?" + +"Yes, we are going now. He is upstairs. They wanted to take him to the +fortress, but he is too ill to be moved." + +They went on together. He led her into a lift, and they passed out of +reach of the staring crowd. + +A familiar figure was awaiting them above, and greeted Chris +deferentially as she stepped into the corridor. + +"Why, Holmes!" she said, and held out her hand to him. + +He took it with reverence. For the first time in her memory she detected +a hint of emotion on his impassive face. + +"He--hasn't gone, Holmes?" she whispered breathlessly. + +"No, madam. He is waiting for you," Holmes made answer, very gently. + +Waiting for her! She smiled piteously in her relief. Bertrand de +Montville would be her perfect knight to the last. + +As they went on down the long corridor she missed the grasp of her +husband's fingers, and stopped like a child to slip her hand back into +his. + +He looked down at her gravely, saying nothing. And so they came at last +to the door of Bertrand's room. + +Two soldiers were on guard here also. The door was closed. + +Holmes went quietly forward and showed a paper to one of the sentries. + +Chris waited with a beating heart. Suddenly, with a sob, she turned and +clung to her husband's arm. "Trevor, I--I am afraid!" + +"There is no need," he said. + +"I have never seen death," she whispered. "Will he seem--different?" + +He looked at her for a second in such a way that her eyes fell from his. + +"Would you like me to go in first?" he asked. + +"No--no. Only, Trevor, hold my hand! You won't let go? Promise!" + +He did not promise, but somehow without words he reassured her. The door +opened before them, and they entered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE INDESTRUCTIBLE + + +Within the room all was dim. + +An arm-chair piled with many pillows stood facing the open window, and as +her eyes became accustomed to the twilight Chris discerned the outline of +a figure that reclined in it. At the same moment there came to her the +sound of a voice, husky and difficult, yet how strangely familiar. + +"Ah, but the tide--the tide!" it said. "Can we not hold it back my dear +Max--a little longer? It rushes up so fast--so fast. Soon all will be +gone. Only a picture in the sand, you say? But no, it is more than that. +See, it is greater than all the things in the world--greater than +the Sphinx, _ma petite_--greater than your Cleopatra's Needle. Ah, you +laugh, because you have no need of it. But yet it is your own, and so +will it always be. Do you hear the tide among the rocks, _mignonne_? It +is there that my heart is buried. Come with me, and I will show you the +place--if the tide permit." + +There came a gasp, and silence. + +Some one guided Chris gently forward till she stood behind the great +chair at the window, looking down upon the black head that rested +against the pillow. Her fear had passed, but yet she drew no nearer. +Instinctively she stood and waited. + +Suddenly, and more clearly, the voice spoke again. + +"We must climb, _chérie_, we must climb. We dare not stay upon these +rocks. It is steep for your little feet, but to remain here is to die. +_Alors_, we will say our prayers and go. _Le bon Dieu_ will keep us safe. +And we have been--pals--since so long." + +A softer note in the last sentence made her aware that he was smiling. +She bent a little above him. But still she waited. + +"_Comment_?" he said. "You are afraid? But why, my bird of Paradise? Is +it life that you fear--this little life of shadows? Or Death--which is +the gateway to our great Reality? Listen, _mignonne_! I am a prisoner +while I live, but the gate opens to me. Soon I shall be free. No, no! +I cannot take you with me. I would not, _chérie_, if I could. Your place +is here. But remember--always--that I love you still. And my love is +stronger than death. It stretches into eternity." + +He paused, and made a slight gesture of refusal. "Ah, no!" he said. "I do +not want a priest. My sins are all known--and pardoned. I only want--one +thing now." + +"What is it, old chap?" It was Max Wyndham's voice, but pitched so low +that Chris scarcely recognized it. + +The head on the pillow moved, turning towards the speaker. "So, _mon +ami_, you are still there?" + +"What is it you are wanting?" Max said. + +Bertrand drew a breath that was cut short and ended in a gasp. "_Mon +ami_, I only want--to hold her little hand in mine--and to hear her +say--that she is--happy." + +And then it was that Chris moved forward, as if impelled by a volition +not her own, and knelt down by Bertrand's side. + +"Do you want me, Bertie?" she said. "I've come, dear! I've come!" + +He put out his hand to her at once, but slowly, as though feeling his +way. "Christine!" he said. + +She took the groping hand, and held it fast pressed between her own. +"Yes, dear?" she murmured. + +"You are really here?" he said. "It is not--a dream?" + +"No, Bertie, no! It is I myself, here with you at Valpré." + +She felt his hand close within her own. "You are come--to say good-bye to +me?" he said. "And Mr. Mordaunt--is he here also?" + +"He brought me," whispered Chris. + +"Ah!" She heard the relief in his voice. "Then--Christine, all is right +between you?" + +But she was silent, for she could not answer him. + +He stirred. He leaned slowly forward. "Tell me," he said, very earnestly, +"tell me that all is well between you." + +But Chris said no word. She only bowed her head over the hand she held. + +There was a brief silence. Bertrand was bending over her. He seemed to be +trying to see her face. He moved at last, passed his free arm around her, +and spoke. "Mr. Mordaunt--is he here?" + +"Yes, I am here." Very steadily came Mordaunt's answer. Mordaunt himself +took Max's place beside him. + +Bertrand looked up at him. "Monsieur--" he said, and hesitated. + +"Ask him what he wants," muttered Max, gripping his brother-in-law's +elbow with tense insistence. + +"Do you want anything?" He uttered the question at once, quite clearly, +without emotion. + +"Monsieur," Bertrand said again, and there was entreaty in his voice, +"out of your great goodness of heart you have brought _la petite_ to +say adieu to me. Will you not--extend that goodness--a little farther? +Will you not--now that you understand--now that you understand"--he +repeated the phrase insistently--"remove the estrangement of which I have +been--the so unhappy cause?" + +"Bertie, no--no!" There was sharp pain in Chris's voice. She raised +herself quickly. "You don't understand, dear, and I--can't explain. But +you are not to ask that of him. I can't bear it." + +There was a quiver of passion in the last words. It was as though they +were uttered in spite of her. + +Mordaunt stood motionless, in utter silence. His face was in shadow. + +Bertrand turned to the kneeling girl. "Will you, then, plead for +yourself, _chérie_?" he said. "He will not refuse you. He knows all." + +"No, no; he doesn't," said Chris. + +"But you will tell him," urged Bertrand gently. "See, I cannot leave +you--my two good friends--thus. Since I have caused so much trouble +between you, I must do my possible to redress the evil. _Chérie_, promise +me--that you will go back to him. Not otherwise shall I die happy." + +"I can't!" whispered Chris. "I can't!" + +"But why not?" he said. "You love him, yes?" + +But Chris was silent. She was trembling from head to foot. + +"I know that you love him," Bertrand said, with confidence. "And for +that--you will go back to him. You cannot live your life apart from him. +You belong to him, Christine, and he--he belongs to you. Mr. Mordaunt--my +dear friend--is it not so?" + +But before he could answer, feverishly Chris again broke in. "Bertie, +hush--hush! It isn't right! It isn't fair! Oh, forgive me for saying it! +But can't you see that it isn't? He has forgiven me, and we are friends. +But you mustn't ask any more than that, because--because it's no use." A +sudden sob rose in her throat. She swallowed it with an immense effort. +"He has been kind to me--for your sake," she said, "not my own. I have +done nothing to deserve his kindness. I have never been worthy of him, +and he knows it. I married him, loving you. Oh no, I didn't know it, but +I ought to have known. And when I did know, I would have left him and +gone with you. Nothing can ever alter that. And do you suppose he will +ever forget it? Because I know--I know--that he never can!" + +She ceased abruptly, and turned aside to battle with her agitation. +Bertrand's hand stroked hers very tenderly, but his eyes were raised to +the man who stood like a statue by his side. + +He spoke after a moment very softly, almost as if to himself. +"Neither will he forget," he said, "that our love was a summer +idyll that came to us unawares in the days when we were young, and +that though the idyll will come to an end, our love is a gift +immortal--imperishable--indestructible--a flame that burns upwards and +always upwards--reaching the Divine. And because he remembers this, +he will understand, and think no evil. Christine," he turned to her again +very persuasively, "you love him. You have need of him. I know it well. +You are sad. You are lonely. Your heart cries out for him. Little +Christine, will you not listen to it? Will you not go back to him?" + +The man's whole soul was in the words. They quivered with the intensity +of his appeal. Yet they went into silence. Chris was turned away from +him. Only by the convulsive holding of her hand did he know that they had +reached her heart. + +The silence lengthened, became oppressive, became a burden too heavy to +be borne. + +"Christine!" He was becoming exhausted. His voice was no more than a +whisper, but it throbbed with earnest entreaty. + +Yet Chris remained silent still, for she could not speak in answer. + +Several seconds passed. It seemed that the appeal would go unanswered. +But at length the man who stood on Bertrand's other side made a quiet +movement, bending down a little. + +"You need not distress yourself, Bertrand," he said, very steadily, and +as he spoke his hand was on the Frenchman's shoulder. "Chris will never +leave me again." + +"Ah!" Eagerly Bertrand looked up at him. He had begun to gasp again, +and his words were hurried and difficult of utterance. "And you, +monsieur--you will not--leave her?" + +Mordaunt made no verbal answer, but their eyes must have met in the +dimness and some message have passed between them, for there was a tremor +of sheer relief in his voice when Bertrand spoke again. + +"Oh, my friend!" he said. "My dear friend!" And, yielding to the hand +that gently pressed him back, he reclined upon his pillows and became +passive. + +Mordaunt remained beside him for several seconds longer, but he did not +speak again. When he straightened himself at length, he glanced round for +Max, and motioned him away. + +They went together into the adjoining room and softly closed the door. + +And so Chris and her _preux chevalier_ were left alone by the open window +to end their summer idyll to the music of the rising tide that crooned +and murmured among the rocks of Valpré that had seen its beginning. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE END OF THE VOYAGE + + +How the sun was shining on the water! What a glorious morning for a +bathe! Chris laughed to herself--a happy little, inconsequent laugh. + +But she must be quick or Mademoiselle Gautier would catch her and forbid +her to go! Poor old Mademoiselle, who had been brought up in a convent +and thought all nice things were improper! + +Would Bertie be there with his boat, a white-clad, supple figure, with +his handsome olive face, and his dark eyes with their friendly laugh? +Surely it was the flash of his oars in the sunlight that dazzled her so! +She would swim to him through the crystal water, and he would stretch out +his hands to her, and she would go up to him like a bird from the sea, +and perch upon the stern. He would scold her a little for swimming out so +far, but what of that? She liked being scolded by Bertie! + +How warmly the sun shone down upon them! And how she loved to watch the +slim activity of him as he bent to his work! She wished they did not move +quite so fast, even though the speed was so delicious, for they were +nearing the rocks. Oh no, she was not afraid! Who could be afraid with +Bertie in the boat? But when they reached the rocks, it would be the end +of the voyage, and she did not want it to end. + +Ah! now she could catch the sparkle of the sand, and there away in the +distance a powdery whirl which was all she could see of Cinders. He was +evidently digging for dear life, and again Chris laughed. + +And now she stood with her back to the glittering sea, and her face to +the mysterious granite of the ages. Where had he gone--her _preux +chevalier_? Was he hidden in the dark recesses of the Magic Cave? She +would go in search of him. He would not hide long from her, for she +possessed the secret of the spell that would draw him forth. + +But the rocks were slippery under her feet, and more than once she +stumbled. She found herself confronted by obstacles such as had never +before obstructed her path. A little tremor of distress went through her. +Why had she quitted that sunny sea? Why had she ever suffered herself to +be beguiled into the boat? + +It became increasingly difficult, wellnigh impossible, to go forward. She +turned aside. Ah! there was Bertie, after all, out on the sand, waiting +for her. He held a naked sword in his hand. Evidently he was drawing +pictures. She knew what they would be before she reached him: St. George +and the Dragon, that "beast enormous with eyes of fire"; the Sphinx, and +Cleopatra's Needle. She saw them all; and soon the great tide would race +up with a mighty roaring and wash them all away. Was it not the destiny +of all things--save one? + +Stay! Was it the sand on which he was expending his skill thus? Why, +then, did his sword move so swiftly, like lightning-flashes, where the +sun caught it? Ah, now she saw more clearly. It was a duel. He was +fighting with every inch of him, steadfast, unflinching, in her cause. +How splendidly he controlled himself! The clear grace of his every +movement held her spellbound. + +For a while she watched him, not heeding his adversary, watched the glint +of the crossed swords, the pass, the thrust, and the return. And then, by +some mysterious influence, her eyes were drawn upward to the face of his +opponent, and it was as if one of those flashing blades had found her +heart. For Bertrand de Montville was fighting the grey-eyed, level-browed +Englishman who was her husband! + +With a cry she sprang forward to intervene. She flung herself between +them in an agony. One of them--Trevor--caught her in his arms. The other +staggered backwards and fell upon the sand. She saw his dead face as he +lay.... + +"Oh, Trevor!" she cried in anguish. "Trevor! Trevor!" + +He held her closely to him. She felt his hand laid in soothing on her +head. Gasping, she opened her eyes upon his face. + +"That's better," he said gently. "You've had a bad dream." + +"Was it a dream?" she asked him wildly. "Was it a dream?" + +And then she remembered that Bertrand had fallen asleep in the very early +hours of the morning, and that they had led her away to another room to +rest. Worn out in mind and body, she had yielded. She marvelled now that +she had been so easily persuaded. + +She turned within the circle of her husband's arm. "Trevor, you promised +you would call me if he waked." + +His hand was still upon her head; its touch was sustaining, subtly +comforting. "He did not wake, dear," he said. + +The words were few, but in a flash she knew the truth. Her eyes grew wide +and dark. Her clinging hands tightened upon his arm. She made no sound of +any sort. She even ceased to breathe. + +He drew her head down upon his shoulder, and held her fast pressed +against his breast. "Don't be afraid," he said. + +But she remained tense in his arms, till her rigidity and silence alarmed +him. He began to rub her cold cheek. + +"Chris, speak to me!" + +She turned her face into his breast, and with relief he heard her begin +to breathe again. But she did not speak. She only lay there dumbly in +crushed stillness. + +For a while he waited, but at last, as she made no movement, he spoke +again. "Chris, would you like me to leave you?" + +That reached her. She turned her face quickly upwards. "No, Trevor." + +The wide, strained look was still in her eyes, but they did not flinch +from his. + +"I knew he was dead," she said, speaking very quickly, "when I woke up +just now. I thought--I thought--" She broke off, as if she could not +continue. "And afterwards--directly I saw you by my side--I knew it was +true. Trevor"--the piteous note sounded again in her voice--"why are you +not afraid of death?" + +"Because I don't believe in it," he said. + +"But yet--but yet--" Her words faltered away into silence. + +He laid his hand again upon her head. "My dear, death is purely physical. +You know it in your heart as well as I do. Death is the passing of the +spirit--no more than that." + +She uttered a deep sigh. "Oh, Trevor, I wish I wasn't so wicked." + +His hand began to caress her hair. "I don't think you know what +wickedness is, dear," he said. + +"But I do--I do!" she protested. "I--I am almost terrified sometimes when +I realize it. And I feel as if--as if--Bertie wouldn't have been taken +away--if I hadn't loved him so." Her voice sank, she hid her face a +little lower. + +"But you make a mistake," he said gently. "There is no sin in love--so +long as it is love and nothing else. A good many sins masquerade in the +form of love, but love itself--what you and I call love--is sinless. And +it is that--and that alone--that can never die." He paused a moment, and +his hand ceased to stroke her bright hair and became still. "It is bad +enough," he said, his voice sunk very low, "that I could ever +misunderstand you; but, my dear, don't make things harder by +misunderstanding yourself." + +She moved at that as though it touched her very nearly, and suddenly she +slipped from his arms, and knelt beside him. "Trevor," she said, with +quivering lips, "don't be too kind to me! I can't bear it." + +He looked down at her very sadly. "It would be a new experience for you, +my Chris, if I were," he said. + +"No--no." She bent her face quickly, and laid it against his hand. "I've +deceived you a hundred times--yes, and lied to you. You bore with me over +and over again, even when you knew I wasn't being straight. You did your +very utmost to keep me true. You trusted me even when you knew I was +cheating. Oh, I don't wonder that I killed your love at last. The wonder +was that it lived so long." + +She stopped, for his hand had clenched upon itself at her words. But he +said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue. She went on +quickly-- + +"I know you feel you must be kind to me now because"--she caught her +breath--"Bertie is gone, and he wished it so. But--but--I shan't +expect--a great deal. I--I shall be quite grateful--if I may have--a +little friendship. I don't want you to think that--that--" + +"That you want my love?" he said. + +"Oh, I didn't mean that!" She looked up at him in distress, but she could +not see his face with any distinctness. + +His elbow was on the arm of his chair, and his hand shaded it. + +"I know I forfeited all that," she said. "And I want you to feel that +I--understand, and shall never expect to have it again. That is what I +mean when I say, don't be too kind to me. You have been that, and much +more than that, already. But I won't trade on your generosity. I am not a +child any longer to need support and protection. I am old enough to stand +alone." + +"And what of my promise to Bertrand?" + +He asked the question quite quietly, as though it were of no special +moment to him, but she flinched before it, and turned her face aside. + +"Oh, I don't think he would want you to be kind to me for his sake--if he +knew how much it hurt?" + +Mordaunt was silent for a moment, then: "And you have no use for my +love?" he said. + +She made a movement almost convulsive. "Trevor, don't--torture me!" + +"My child," he said, "I only ask because I need to know." + +She laid a trembling hand on his. "If I thought--you loved me--" She +stopped, battling desperately for self-control, and after a few seconds +began again. "If I thought--you wanted me--" + +"I do want you, Chris," he said. + +She cast a startled look into his face. "Oh, but you only say that +because--because--" + +"Because it is the truth," he said. + +"But is it the truth?" she asked, a little wildly. "Is it? Is it? Oh, +Trevor, if you knew--if you knew--" Her voice failed. She began to sob. +"I can't bear it," she whispered. "I can't! I can't!" And with that she +broke down utterly, bowing her head upon his knee in a passion of weeping +more violent than he had ever before witnessed. + +"Chris! Chris!" he said. + +He would have lifted her, but she sank lower, as one crushed to the earth +by a burden too heavy to be borne. + +For a while her weeping was the only sound in the room, but at length he +spoke again over her bowed head. + +"Chris--my darling--do you know--I can't bear it either if you cry like +this?" + +His voice was low and not very steady. It appealed to her even in the +depth of her distress. She stretched up a trembling hand, and clasped +his. + +Gradually her sobbing grew less violent, and at length it ceased; but she +remained crouched against his knee with her face hidden for many minutes. + +Trevor said no more. Only at last he bent and laid his lips upon her +hair. + +She moved then sharply, and for a single instant she saw his face. It was +enough, more than enough for her quick heart. In a moment the barrier +between them was down. She raised herself and threw her arms around his +neck. + +"My dear! My dear!" she said. + +"It's all right," he whispered back. + +Her arms tightened. She clung to him passionately. "Trevor--darling, I +didn't know! I didn't understand!" + +"It's all right," he said again. + +She pressed her face to his. "Trevor, don't fret, dear! I'm not worth it. +And I--I'm coming back to you--if you will have me." + +"I want you," he answered simply. + +"Not just for his sake?" she pleaded. "Or even for mine?" + +"For my own," he said. + +She was silent for a little. Then impulsively, with something of her old, +quick charm of movement, she turned her lips to his. "Trevor, I believe I +should die without you." + +"Poor child!" he said gently. + +"No--no! Don't pity me! Love me--love me!" + +He pressed her closer. "My Chris, no one ever loved you more." + +"Yes," she whispered. "I know that now. And I shall never forget it. +Trevor, I love you, too. You believe that?" + +"I know it, dear," he said. + +"And because I love you," she said, "I'm not afraid of you any more. +Trevor, let us promise each other that nothing shall ever come between us +again." + +"Nothing ever shall," he said steadily. + +"Nothing ever shall," she repeated softly. "And--and--Trevor--" She +suddenly hid her face against his shoulder and became silent again. + +"But you are not afraid of me?" he said. + +"No, dear, no; not afraid." Her voice quivered notwithstanding. "Only +foolish, you know, and--and--a little doubtful lest--lest--when I've told +you--something--you shouldn't be quite--pleased." + +"I am--quite pleased, dear," he said. + +She raised her head. "Trevor! You know?" + +He took her face between his hands. "My darling, yes." + +She opened her eyes wide, searching his face. "But that--that wasn't your +reason for--wanting me back?" + +He looked straight down into her eyes, still holding her. "I wonder if I +need answer that question," he said slowly. + +She was silent for a moment, then stretched her hands to him with a +gesture of complete confidence. "No, dear, you needn't. Just forgive me +for asking--that's all." + +He stooped at once without speaking, and the kiss that passed between +them was the seal of a perfect understanding. + +Not till some time later did the request he was expecting her to make +find utterance. He had been giving her a few details of Bertrand's +illness and death. + +"He simply went in his sleep," he said, "scarcely an hour after you left +him. Max and I were both with him, but he went so easily that we neither +of us knew when it was. There was no suffering or distress of any sort. +He just passed." + +He spoke with great gentleness. He was keenly anxious to remove her fear +of death. But he knew by the way her arm tightened about his neck that +something of the awe of it was upon her even while he spoke. + +"Trevor," she said, in a very low voice, "I almost think I would like to +see him." + +"Yes, dear." + +"But--I can't go alone," she said. "Will you come too?" + +"Of course," he said. + +She rose to her feet. "Let's go now." + +He rose also with her hand in his. "There is some stuff here Max gave me +for you," he said. "Drink that first." + +"Where is Max?" she asked. + +"I sent him to bed, and Noel too." + +"And you have been sitting up with me ever since?" + +"It was only three hours," he said. + +He gave her Max's draught with the words, as if to check all comment on +his action, and Chris submissively said no more. But she held his hand +very tightly as they went out together. + +The dawn was just spreading golden over the sea when they entered the +room where Bertrand lay asleep. The light of it poured in at the open +window like a benediction. Outside, the two sentries still stood on +guard. But within was no earthly presence, only the scent and sound of +the sea, only the growing splendour of the day, only the quiet dead +waiting for the Resurrection.... + +Chris's hand trembled within her husband's as she drew near. But later, +when she looked upon the dear, familiar face, the awe went out of her +own. + +For Bertrand's sleep was very easy, serenely natural. It seemed to Chris +that the man's vanished youth had come back to beautify his rest. For all +the weariness she had grown accustomed to see had passed away. She even +thought he smiled. + +Back on a rush of memory came his words: "I know that all Love is +eternal, and Death is only an incident in eternity." + +Till that moment they had never recurred to her. From that moment she +carried them perpetually in her heart. + +She drew a little nearer. She bent above him. And it was to her as if the +dead lips spoke: "Though I shall not be with you, you will know that I am +loving you still. It will be as an Altar Flame that burns for ever. +Believe me, Christine, Death is a very small thing compared with Love." + +"I know it, I know it," whispered Chris. + +When she stood up again, though her eyes were shining through tears, she +was smiling also. + +"Your friend and mine, Trevor," she murmured. "May I--may I kiss him just +once? I never have before." + +"Of course you may," he said. + +She bent again, bent till her lips just touched the dead man's brow. + +"I won't disturb you, _preux chevalier_," she whispered. "Only +good-night, dear! Good-night!" + +For a little while she stood looking down upon the dead man's rest; but +at length she turned away, drawing her husband with her, and went to the +open window. + +Hand in hand they looked out upon a world in which "all things were made +new." They spoke no word. They thought the same thoughts together, and no +words were needed. + +Only when they turned at length from the shimmering sunlight back into +the quiet room, their eyes met. And in the silence Trevor Mordaunt bent +with reverence and kissed the living, as she had kissed the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE PROCESSION UNDER THE WINDOWS + + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! The procession was passing under the windows. + +Bertrand de Montville, the vindicated hero, was being borne to his +soldier's grave on the hill by the fortress. Soldiers preceded him. +Soldiers followed him. A mixed crowd of journalists--men from all parts +of Europe--came after. And from the window above, his little pal looked +down. + +Max Wyndham stood beside her, the corners of his mouth drawn down and a +very peculiar expression in his green eyes. He had amazed his French +friend by refusing to follow the _cortège_. Even Chris did not know why, +for he had clothed himself in an impenetrable cloak of reserve since +Bertrand's death, and he was not apparently minded to lift it even for +her benefit. + +Yet she was glad to have him with her, for Noel had elected to go with +Mordaunt; and though she was quite willing to be left alone, she found +Max's presence a help. She had seen but little of him until the moment +that they stood together looking down upon the passing procession. + +It was a grey day. Down on the shore the long waves rolled in to break in +wide lines of surf up the rock-strewn beach. The thunder of their +breaking mingled with the roll of muffled drums. The full honours of a +soldier's funeral were to be accorded to the man who had died before +France could make amends. + +Slowly the procession wound along the _plage_, and back upon Chris's +memory flashed the day when she and Cinders had waited at the garden gate +to see the soldiers pass. She saw again the handsome face of the young +officer marching behind his men, the sudden animation leaping into it at +sight of her, the eagerness with which he turned to greet her, his +momentary hesitation at her request, his smiling surrender. What would +have happened, she asked herself, if he had managed to resist her that +day? Had that been the beginning of his downfall? Might he otherwise +have passed on unscathed? + +A sudden sense of coldness assailed her. The street below was empty. She +stood alone. She leaned her head against the window-frame. How grey it +was! + +"Sit down!" said Max practically. + +She started. "Oh, Max!" she said weakly. + +"Here you are," he said, and guided her down into a chair. "That's the +way. Now lean back and shut your eyes." + +She obeyed him, without question, as she always did. A vague sense of +consolation began to steal through her. His hand, holding hers, dispelled +the loneliness. + +After a while she opened her eyes and found him watching her. "Oh, Max," +she said, "I'm so glad you are here." + +"It seems as well," he rejoined, rather grimly. "Don't you think it's +time you began to behave rationally?" + +"Have I been very silly?" she asked. + +"Very, I should say." He sat down on the arm of her chair, and drew her +head to lean against him, a very rare demonstration with him. + +She relaxed with a sigh. "I can't help it," she said wistfully. "I used +to think life was just splendid--it was good to be alive. And now--I +sometimes wish I'd never been born." + +"Which is a mistake," said Max. "There's no time for that sort of thing. +Besides, it's futile. Now, don't cry! That's futile, too, when there is +anything else to be done. I don't suppose Trevor will be feeling +particularly jolly when he gets back from this show--though there's +something rather funny about it to my mind--and you'll have to cheer him +up. I suppose you won't be upset if I smoke?" + +"What can you see funny in it?" questioned Chris. + +He lighted his cigarette before replying. "My dear girl," he said then, +"I can't endow you with a sense of humour if you don't possess one. But +all this pomp and circumstance has got its funny side, I assure you. +Bertrand saw that; he was a philosopher. If he were here now, he would +snap his fingers and laugh." + +"He might," Chris admitted. "At least, he called it a dream in the midst +of a great Reality." + +"Which it is," said Max. "Get outside it all. Get above it if you can. +And you will see. Come, you mustn't grizzle. You don't seriously suppose +you've lost anything, do you?" He looked down at her suddenly, with a +smile in his shrewd eyes. "I say, you must get rid of that idea," he +said. "Even I know better than that. I believe in my own way I was almost +as fond of him as you were. But I knew he was going long ago, and that +nothing on earth could stop him. He knew it too. Between ourselves, I +don't think he much wanted to stop. But there was nothing unwholesome +about him. He wasn't a shirker. He played the game. And now you're going +to play it, eh? You're going to buck up. You're going to give Trevor a +sample of what the Wyndhams can do. I know we're a rotten tribe, but +we've got our points. In Heaven's name, let's make the most of 'em!" + +He bent abruptly and kissed her. + +"Life's all right," he said. "And so's the world. But you've got to get +used to the idea that it's not a place to stay in. It's no good sitting +down by the wayside to cry. You've got to look on ahead and keep moving. +It's the only possible way. If you don't, you get buried in every +sand-storm." + +Chris reached up her arms and clasped him very tightly. "Max, tell me +Love doesn't die!" + +"It doesn't," said Max stoutly. + +"You are sure? You are sure?" + +"Yes, I am sure." + +"How do you know? Tell me--tell me!" + +Chris's voice was piteous. Yet for a moment he was silent. Then, "I +know," he said, "by the way that chap faced death." + +"Because he wasn't afraid?" she whispered. "Because he died so easily?" + +"Because he didn't die," said Max. + + * * * * * + +Late that night the clouds passed, and a new moon rose behind the +fortress and threw a golden shimmer over the sea. The waves were washing +over the rocks with a deep, mysterious murmuring. To Chris, kneeling at +her window, it was as if they were trying to tell her a secret. She had +knelt down to pray, but her thoughts had wandered, and somehow she could +not call them back. Almost in spite of herself, she went in spirit over +the rocks till she came to the Magic Cave. And here she would have +entered, but could not, for the tide was rising and barred her out. + +"Not there, _mignonne_," said a soft voice at her side. + +She turned her head. Surely he had spoken in the stillness! Surely it was +no dream! + +But the action brought her back, back to the shadowy room, and the +moonlit sea, and the prayer that was still little more than a vague +longing in her heart. + +She uttered a brief sigh, and rose. And in that moment she found herself +face to face with her husband. + +"Trevor!" she said, startled. + +He was standing close to her, and suddenly she knew that he had been +there for some time, waiting for her to rise. + +Her first impulse was one of nervous irresolution, but it possessed her +for a moment only. With scarcely a pause she went straight into his arms. + +"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "Isn't the sea lovely? Have +you--have you seen the new moon?" + +He held her in silence, and she heard the beating of his heart, strong +and steady, where she had pillowed her head. She turned her face upwards +after a little. + +"Trevor, do you remember, long ago, how we saw the new moon together--and +you wished? Have you wished this time?" + +"It is always the same wish with me," he said. + +"What! Hasn't it come true yet?" She leaned her head back to see his face +the better. "Trevor," she said, "are you sure it hasn't come true?" + +She saw his faint smile in the moonlight. "I think I should know if it +had, dear." + +"I'm not so sure," said Chris. "Men are very silly. They never see +anything that isn't absolutely in black and white, and not always then. +Tell me what it was you wished for." + +But he shook his head. "That isn't fair, is it? If the gods hear, it will +be struck off the list at once." + +"Never mind the gods," said Chris despotically. "I'll get it for you +somehow--even if they do. Now tell me! Whisper!" She drew down his head +and waited expectantly. + +"What a ghastly predicament!" he said. + +"Trevor! Don't laugh! I'm not laughing." + +"I'm sorry," he said. "But really I can't afford to run any risks of that +sort." + +"Then you still think you may get it?" questioned Chris. + +"I think it possible--if the gods are kind." + +"My dear," she said suddenly, "let's leave off joking. If it's something +you're wanting very badly, why don't you--pray for it?" + +"I am praying for it, sweetheart," he said. + +"Oh, Trevor, tell me! And I'll pray, too." + +She wound her arms persuasively about his neck. Her face was very sweet +in the moonlight. The deep-sea eyes were very tender. + +He looked into them and yielded. "Chris, I am praying for the love of the +woman I love." + +"Oh, but, Trevor--Trevor--" + +"Yes," he said, and his voice vibrated upon a deeper note--a note that +was passionate. "I want more than a little, my Chris. But I will be +patient. I will wait all my life long if I must. Only--O God, let me win +it at last!" + +He stopped. She was looking at him strangely, and there was something +about her that he had never seen before--something that compelled. + +"But, Trevor dearest," she said, "it was yours long--long ago. Oh, don't +you understand? How shall I make you understand?" + +She clasped him closer. The moonlight was shining in her eyes--the eyes +of a woman who had come through suffering into peace. + +"My darling," she said, "before God, I am telling you the truth. If you +hadn't come back to me, I should have broken my heart." + +He took her head between his hands. He bent his face to hers, looking +deep into those shining, unswerving eyes. + +"Won't you believe me?" she pleaded. "Dear, I couldn't lie to you if I +tried. Must I put it more plainly still? Then listen! You are more to me +now than Bertie ever was. I do not say more than he might have been. But +we can't put back the clock. I wouldn't if I could. No--no, not even to +live again those old happy days. Trevor, do you understand now, dear? For +if you don't, not even Aunt Philippa could be harder to convince. I am +yours. I am yours. The other was a dream that can only come true in +Paradise. But this is our Reality--yours and mine. And I can't live +without you. I want you so. I love you so. Trevor--my husband!" + +Her lips quivered suddenly, but in that moment his found them and +possessed them. She gave herself to him in complete surrender, as she had +given herself on their wedding-night. Yet with a difference. For she +throbbed in his arms; she thrilled to his touch. She opened to him the +doors of her soul, and drew him within... + +"And now you understand?" she whispered to him later. + +"Yes--I understand," he said. + +She laid her head again upon his breast. "To understand all is to forgive +all," she said. + +To which he answered softly, "But there is nothing to forgive." + + +THE END + + +By Ethel M. Dell + +The Way of an Eagle +The Hundredth Chance +The Knave of Diamonds +The Safety Curtain +The Rocks of Valpré +Greatheart +The Swindler +The Lamp in the Desert +The Keeper of the Door +The Tidal Wave +Bars of Iron +The Top of the World +Rosa Mundi +The Odds and Other Stories +The Obstacle Race +Charles Rex + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROCKS OF VALPRE*** + + +******* This file should be named 13547-8.txt or 13547-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/5/4/13547 + + + +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. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/13547-8.zip b/old/13547-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f897d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13547-8.zip diff --git a/old/13547.txt b/old/13547.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ece12b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13547.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19294 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Rocks of Valpre, 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 Rocks of Valpre + +Author: Ethel May Dell + +Release Date: September 27, 2004 [eBook #13547] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROCKS OF VALPRE*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects, +Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE ROCKS OF VALPRE + +by + +ETHEL M. DELL + +Author of "The Way of an Eagle," "The Knave of Diamonds," etc. + +1913 + + + + + + + +I Dedicate This Book To MY MOTHER + +AS A VERY SMALL TOKEN OF THAT LOVE WHICH NO WORDS CAN EXPRESS + + "Love is indestructible: +Its holy flame for ever burneth, +From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth; + Too oft on Earth a troubled guest, + At times deceived, at times opprest, + It here is tried and purified, + Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest: +It soweth here with toil and care, +Bat the harvest-time of Love is there." + +_The Curse of Kehama_--Robert Southey. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + +PROLOGUE + + I. THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE + II. DESTINY + III. A ROPE OF SAND + IV. THE DIVINE MAGIC + V. THE BIRTHDAY TREAT + VI. THE SPELL + VII. IN THE CAUSE OF A WOMAN +VIII. THE ENGLISHMAN + + +PART I + + I. THE PRECIPICE + II. THE CONQUEST + III. THE WARNING + IV. DOUBTS + V. DE PROFUNDIS + VI. ENGAGED + VII. THE SECOND WARNING +VIII. THE COMPACT + IX. A CONFESSION + X. A SURPRISE VISIT + XI. THE EXPLANATION + XII. THE BIRTHDAY PARTY +XIII. PALS + XIV. A REVELATION + XV. MISGIVINGS + XVI. MARRIED + + +PART II + + I. SUMMER WEATHER + II. ONE OF THE FAMILY + III. DISASTER + IV. GOOD-BYE TO CHILDHOOD + V. THE LOOKER-ON + VI. A BARGAIN + VII. THE ENEMY +VIII. THE THIN END + IX. THE ENEMY MOVES + X. A WARNING VOICE + XI. A BROKEN REED + XII. A MAN OF HONOUR +XIII. WOMANHOOD + + +PART III + + I. WAR + II. FIREWORKS + III. THE TURN OF THE TIDE + IV. "MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" + V. A DESPERATE REMEDY + VI. WHEN LOVE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE + VII. THE WAY OF THE WYNDHAMS +VIII. THE TRUTH + + +PART IV + + I. THE REFUGEE + II. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR + III. A FRUITLESS ERRAND + IV. THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART + V. THE STRANGER + VI. MAN TO MAN + VII. THE MESSENGER +VIII. ARREST + IX. VALPRE AGAIN + X. THE INDESTRUCTIBLE + XI. THE END OF THE VOYAGE + XII. THE PROCESSION UNDER THE WINDOWS + + + + + +PROLOGUE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE + + +When Cinders began to dig a hole no power on earth, except brute force, +could ever stop him till he sank exhausted. Not even the sight of a crab +could divert his thoughts from this entrancing occupation, much less his +mistress's shrill whistle; and this was strange, for on all other +occasions it was his custom to display the most exemplary obedience. + +Of a cheerful disposition was Cinders, deeply interested in all things +living, despising nothing however trivial, constantly seeking, and very +often finding, treasures of supreme value in his own estimation. It was +probably this passion for investigation that induced him to dig with such +energy and perseverance, but he was not an interesting companion when the +digging mood was upon him. It was, in fact, advisable to keep at a +distance, for he created a miniature sand-storm in his immediate vicinity +that spoiled the amusement of all except himself and successfully checked +all intrusive sympathy. + +"It really is too bad of him," said Chris, as she sat on a rock at twelve +yards' distance and dried her feet in melancholy preoccupation. "It's the +third day running, and I'm so tired of having nobody to talk to and +nothing to do--not even a crab-hunt." + +There was some pleasure to be extracted from crab-hunting under Cinders' +ardent leadership, but alone it held no fascinations. It really was just +a little selfish of Cinders. + +She glanced towards him, and saw that the sand-storm had temporarily +abated. He was working away the heap that had collected beneath him in +preparation for more extensive operations. + +"Cinders!" she called, in the forlorn hope of attracting his attention. +"Cinders!" Then, with a sudden spurt of animation, "Cinders darling, just +come and see what I've found!" + +But Cinders was not so easily deceived. He stood a moment with his stubby +little body tensely poised, then plunged afresh with feverish eagerness +to his task. + +The sand-storm recommenced, and Chris turned with a sigh to contemplate +the blue horizon. A large steamer was travelling slowly across it. She +watched it enviously. + +"Lucky people!" she said. "Lucky, lucky people!" + +The wind caught her red-brown hair and blew it out like a cloak behind +her. It was still damp, for she had been bathing, and when the wind had +passed it settled again in long, gleaming ripples upon her shoulders. She +pushed it away from her face with an impatient hand. + +"Cinders," she said, "if you don't come soon I shall go and find the +Knight of the Magic Cave all by myself." + +But even this threat did not move the enthusiastic Cinders. All that +could be seen of him was a pair of sturdy hind-legs firmly planted amid a +whirl of sand. Quite plainly it was nothing to him what steps his young +mistress might see fit to take to relieve her boredom. + +"All right!" said Chris, springing to her feet with a flourish of her +towel. "Then good-bye!" + +She shook the hair back from her face, slipped her bare feet into +sandals, slung the towel across her shoulders, and turned her face to the +cliffs. + +They frowned above the rock-strewn beach to a height of two hundred feet, +tunnelled here and there by the sea, scored here and there by springs, +rising mass upon mass, in some places almost perpendicular, in others +overhanging. + +They possessed an immense fascination for Chris Wyndham, these cliffs. +There was a species of dreadful romance about them that attracted even +while it awed her. She longed to explore them, and yet deep in the most +private recesses of her soul she was half-afraid. So many terrible +stories were told of this particular corner of the rocky coast. So many +ships were wrecked, so many lives were lost, so many hopes were quenched +forever between the cliffs and the sea. + +But these facts did not prevent her weaving romances about those +wonderful caves. For instance, there was the Magic Cave, for which she +was bound now, the entrance to which was only accessible at low tide. +There was something particularly imposing about this entrance, something +palatial, that stirred the girl's quick fancy. She had never before quite +reached it on account of the difficulty of the approach; but she had +promised herself that she would do so sooner or later, when time and tide +should permit. + +Both chanced to be favourable on this particular afternoon, and she set +forth light-footed upon the adventure, leaving Cinders to his monotonous +but all-engrossing pastime. A wide line of rocks stretched between her +and her goal, which was dimly discernible in the deep shadow of the +cliff--a mysterious opening that had the appearance of a low Gothic +archway. + +"I'm sure it's haunted," said Chris, and fell forthwith to dreaming as +she stepped along the sunlit sand. + +Of course she would find an enchanted hall, peopled by crabs that were +not crabs at all, but the afore-mentioned knight and his retinue, all +bound by the same wicked spell. "And I shall have to find out what it is +and set him free," said Chris, with a sigh of pleasurable anticipation. +"And then, I suppose, he will begin to jabber French, and I shall wish to +goodness I hadn't. I expect he will want to marry me, poor thing! And I +shall have to explain--in French, ugh!--that as he is only a foreigner I +couldn't possibly, under any circumstances, entertain such a preposterous +notion for a single instant. No, I am afraid that would sound rather +rude. How else could I put it?" + +Chris's brow wrinkled over the problem. She had reached the outlying +rocks of the belt she had to cross, and was picking her way between the +pools in deep abstraction. + +"I wonder!" she murmured to herself. "I wonder!" + +Then suddenly her rapt expression broke into a merry smile. "I know! +Of course! Absurdly easy! I shall tell him that I am under a spell +too--bound beyond all chance of escape to marry an Englishman." The sweet +face dimpled over the inspiration. "That ought to settle him, unless he +is very persevering; in which case of course I should have to tell +him--quite kindly--that I really didn't think I could. Fancy marrying a +crab--and a French crab too!" + +She began to laugh, gaily, irrepressibly, light-heartedly, and skipped on +to the first weed-covered rock that obstructed her path. It was an +exceedingly slippery perch. She poised herself with arms outspread, with +a butterfly grace as airy as her visions. + +Away in the distance Cinders, nearing exhaustion, leaned on one elbow and +scratched spasmodically with his free paw. + +"Good-bye, Cinders!" she called to him in her high young voice. "I'm +never coming back any more." + +Lightly she waved her hand and sprang for another rock. But her feet +slipped on the seaweed, and she splashed down into a pool ankle-deep. + +"Bother!" she said, with vehemence. "It's these silly sandals. I'll leave +them here till I come back." + +She scrambled out again and pulled them off. "If I really don't come back +I shan't want them," she reflected, with her merry little smile. + +She arranged sandals and towel on the flat surface of a rock and pursued +her pilgrimage unhampered. + +She certainly managed better without the sandals, but even as it was she +slipped and slid a good deal on the treacherous seaweed. It took her +considerably longer than she had anticipated to cross that belt of rocks. +It was much farther than it looked. Moreover, the pools were so full of +interest that she had to stop and investigate them as she went. Anemones, +green and red, clung to the shining rocks, and crabs of all sizes +scuttled away at her approach. + +"What a lot of retainers he must have!" said Chris. + +She was nearing the Gothic archway, and her heart began to beat fast in +anticipation. What she really expected to find she could not have said. +But undoubtedly this particular cave was many degrees more mysterious and +more eerie than any other she had ever explored. It was very lonely, and +the cliff that frowned above her was very black. The afternoon sun shone +genially upon all things, however, and this gave her courage. + +The waves foamed among the rocks but a few yards from the jutting +headland. Already the tide was turning. That meant that her time was +short. + +"I won't go beyond the entrance to-day," said Chris. "But to-morrow I'll +start earlier and go right in. P'raps Cinders will come too. It wouldn't +be so lonely with Cinders." + +The rocks all about her lay scattered like gigantic ruins. She stood +upon a high boulder and peered around her. There was certainly something +awe-inspiring about the place, the bright sun notwithstanding. It seemed +to lie beneath a spell. She wondered if she would come across any bits of +wreckage, and suppressed a shudder. The Gothic archway looked very dark +and vault-like from where she stood. Should she, after all, go any +nearer? Should she wait till Cinders would deign to accompany her? The +tide was undoubtedly rising. In any case she would have to turn back +within the next few minutes. + +Slowly she pivoted round and looked again from the smiling horizon +whereon no ship was visible to the Magic Cave that yawned in the +face of the cliff. The next instant she jumped so violently that +she missed her footing and fell from her perch in sheer amazement. +Something--someone--was moving just within the deep shadow where the +sunlight could not penetrate! + +It was not a big drop, but she came to earth with a cry of pain among a +mass of fallen stones, whereon she subsided, tightly clasping one foot +between her hands. She had stumbled upon wreckage to her cost; a piece of +rusty iron at her side and the blood that ran out between her locked +fingers testified to that. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she wailed, rocking herself, and then glanced +nervously over her shoulder, remembering the mysterious cause of the +disaster. + +The next moment swiftly she released the injured foot and sprang up. A +man, attired in white linen, had emerged from the Magic Cave. + +He stood a second looking at her, then came bounding towards her over the +rocks. + +Chris shrank back against her boulder. She was feeling dizzy and rather +sick, and the apparition frightened her. + +As he drew near she waved a desperate hand to stay his approach. "Oh, +please go away!" she cried in English. "I--I don't want any help. I'm +only looking for crabs." + +He paid no attention whatever to her gesture or to her words. Only, +reaching her, he bowed very low, beginning with some formality, "_Mais, +mademoiselle; permettez-moi, je vous prie_," and ending in tones of quick +compassion, "_Ah, pauvre petite! Pauvre petite_!" + +Before she knew his intention he was on his knees before her, and had +taken the cut foot very gently into his hands. + +Chris leaned back, clinging to the boulder. The sunlight danced giddily +in her eyes. She felt as if she were slipping over the edge of the world. + +"I can't--stand," she faltered weakly. + +"No, no, _petite_! But naturally!" came the reassuring reply. "Be seated, +I beg. Permit me to assist you!" + +Chris, being quite incapable of doing otherwise, yielded herself to +the gentle insistence of an arm that encircled her. She had an +impression--fleeting at the time but returning to her later--of friendly +dark eyes that looked for an instant into hers; and then, exactly how it +happened she knew not, she was sitting propped against the rock, while +all the world swam dizzily around her, and someone with sure, steady +hands wound a bandage tightly and ever more tightly around her wounded +foot. + +"It hurts!" she murmured piteously. + +"Have patience, mademoiselle! It will be better in a moment," came the +quick reply. "I shall not hurt you more than is necessary. It is to +arrest the bleeding, this. Mademoiselle will endure the pain like a brave +child, yes?" + +Chris swallowed a little shudder. The dizziness was passing. She was +beginning to see more clearly, and her gaze travelled with dawning +criticism over the neat white figure that ministered so confidently to +her need. + +"I knew he'd be French," she whispered half aloud. + +"But I speak English, mademoiselle," he returned, without raising his +black head, + +"Yes," she said, with a sigh of relief. "I'm very glad of that. Must you +pull it any tighter? I--I can bear it, of course, but I'd much rather you +didn't if--if you don't mind." + +She spoke gaspingly. Her eyes were full of tears, though she kept them +resolutely from falling. + +"Poor little one!" he said. "But you are very brave. Once more--so--and +we will not do it again. The pain is not so bad now, no?" + +He looked up at her with a smile so kindly that Chris nearly broke down +altogether. She made a desperate grab after her self-control, and by dint +of biting her lower lip very hard just saved herself from this calamity. + +It was a very pleasing face that looked into her own, olive-hued, with +brows as delicate as a woman's. A thin line of black moustache outlined a +mouth that was something over-sensitive. He was certainly quite a +captivating fairy prince. + +Chris shook the thick hair back upon her shoulders and surveyed him with +interest. "It's getting better," she said. "It was a horrid cut, wasn't +it? You don't know how it hurt." + +"But I can imagine it," he declared. "I saw immediately that it was +serious. Mademoiselle cannot attempt to walk." + +"Oh, but I must indeed!" protested Chris in dismay. "I shall be drowned +if I stay here." + +He shook his head. "Ah no, no! You shall not stay here. If you will +accept my assistance, all will be well." + +"But you can't--carry me!" gasped Chris. + +He rose to his feet, still smiling. "And why not, little one? Because you +think that I have not the strength?" + +Chris looked up at him speculatively. She felt no shyness; he was not the +sort of person with whom she could feel shy. He was too kindly, too +protecting, too altogether charming, for that. But he was of slender +build, and she could not help entertaining a very decided doubt as to his +physical powers. + +"I am much heavier--and much older--than you think," she remarked at +length. + +He laughed boyishly, as if she had made a joke. "_Mais c'est drole, +cela_! Me, I have no thoughts upon the subject, mademoiselle. I believe +what I see, and I assure you that I am well capable of carrying you +across the rocks to Valpre. You lodge at Valpre?" + +Chris nodded. "And you? No," hastily checking herself, "don't tell me! +You live in the Magic Cave, of course. I knew you were there. It was why +I came." + +"You knew, mademoiselle?" His eyes interrogated her. + +She nodded again in answer. "You have lived there for hundreds of years. +You were under a spell, and I came and broke it. If I hadn't cut my foot, +you would have been there still. Do you really think you can lift me? And +what shall you do when you come to cross the rocks? They are much too +slippery to walk on." + +He stooped to raise her, still smiling. "Have no fear, mademoiselle! I +know these rocks by heart." + +She laughed with a child's pure merriment. "Oh, I am not afraid, _preux +chevalier_. But if you find me too heavy--" + +"If I cannot carry the queen of the fairies," he interrupted, "I am not +worthy of the name." + +He had her in his arms with the words, holding her lightly and easily, as +if she had been an infant. His eyes smiled reassuringly into hers. + +"So, mademoiselle! We depart for Valpre!" + +"What fun!" said Chris. + +It seemed she was to enjoy her adventure after all, adverse circumstances +notwithstanding. Her foot throbbed and burned, but she put this fact +resolutely away from her. She had found the knight, and, albeit he was +French, she was very pleased with him. He was the prettiest toy that had +ever yet come her way. + +Possibly in this respect the knight's sentiments resembled hers. For she +was very enchanting, this English girl, fresh as a rose and gay as a +butterfly, with a face that none called beautiful but which most paused +to admire. It was the vividness, the entrancing vitality of her, that +caught the attention. People smiled almost unwittingly when little Chris +Wyndham turned her laughing eyes their way; they were so clear, so blue, +so confidingly merry. There was a rare sweetness about her, a spontaneous +charm irresistibly winning. She loved everybody without effort, as +naturally as she loved life, with an absence of self-consciousness so +entire that perhaps it was not surprising that she was loved in return. + +"You are much stronger than you look, _preux chevalier_," she remarked +presently. "But wouldn't you like to set me down while you go and fetch +my sandals? They are over there on the rocks. It would be a pity for them +to get washed away, and I might manage to walk with them on." + +He had brought her safely over the most difficult part of the way. He +seated her at once upon a flat rock, and stooped to assure himself as to +the success of his bandage. + +"It gives you not so much of pain, no?" he asked. + +"It scarcely hurts at all," she assured him. "You will be quick now, +won't you, because I ought to be getting back. If you see Cinders, you +might bring him too." + +"Cinders?" he questioned, pausing. + +"My dog," she explained. "But he doesn't talk French, so I don't suppose +he will follow you." + +He received the information with a smile. "But I speak English, +mademoiselle," he protested for the second time. + +"Ah yes, you do--after a fashion," admitted Chris. "But I don't suppose +Cinders would understand it. It's not very English English." + +He raised his shoulders in a gesture that was purely French. "_La belle +dame sans merci_!" he murmured ruefully. "_Bien_! I will do my possible." + +"Splendid!" laughed Chris. "No one could do more." + +She watched him go with eyes that sparkled with merriment. The trim, +slight figure was quite good to look upon. He went bounding over the +rocks with the sure-footed grace of a chamois. + +"I wonder who he really is," said Chris, "and where he comes from." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +DESTINY + + +Over the rocks went the stranger with the careless speed of youth, +humming to himself in a soft tenor, his brown face turned to the sun. The +pleasant smile was still upon it. He had the look of one in whose eyes +all things are good. + +Ahead of him gleamed the towel with the sandals upon it, sandals that +might have been fashioned for fairy feet. He quickened his pace at sight +of them. But she was charming, this English child! He had never before +seen anyone quite so dainty. And of a courage unique in one so young! + +He was nearing the sandals now, but the sun was in his eyes, and he saw +only the towel spread like a tablecloth over the rock. He sprang lightly +down on to a heap of shingle, and reached for it, still humming the +_chanson_ that the little English girl had somehow put into his head. + +The next instant a deep growl arrested him, and sharply he drew back. +There was something more than a pair of sandals on the towel above him, +something that crouched in an attitude of tense hostility, daring him to +approach. It was only a small creature that thus challenged him, only a +weird black terrier of doubtful extraction, but he bristled from end to +end with animosity. Quite plainly he regarded the sandals as his +responsibility. With glaring eyes and gleaming teeth he crouched, +prepared to defend them. + +The young Frenchman's discomfiture was but momentary. In an instant he +had taken in the situation and the humour of it. + +"But it is the good Cinders!" he said aloud, and extended a fearless +hand. "So, my friend, so! The little mistress waits." + +Cinders' growl became a snarl. He sucked up his breath in furious +protest, threatening murder. But the stranger's hand was not withdrawn. +On the contrary it advanced upon him with the utmost deliberation till +Cinders was compelled to jerk backwards to avoid it. + +So jerking, he missed his footing as his mistress had before him, lost +his balance, and rolled, cursing, clinging, and clambering, over the edge +of the rock. + +Had the Frenchman laughed at that moment he would have made an enemy for +life. But most fortunately he did not regard an antagonist's downfall as +a fit subject for mirth. In fact, being of a chivalrous turn, he grabbed +at the luckless Cinders, clutched his collar, and dragged him up again. +And--perhaps it was the generosity of the action, perhaps only its +obvious fearlessness--he won Cinders' heart from that instant. His +hostility merged into sudden ardent friendship. He set his paws on the +young man's chest, and licked his face. + +Thenceforth he was more than welcome to sandals and towel and even the +effusive Cinders himself, who leaped around him barking in high delight, +and accompanied him with giddy circlings upon his return journey. + +Chris, who had viewed the encounter from afar with much interest, clapped +her hands at their approach. + +"And you weren't a bit afraid!" she laughed. "I couldn't think what you +would do. Cinders looked so fierce. But any one can see you understand +dogs--even English dogs." + +"It is possible that at heart the English and the French resemble each +other more than we think, mademoiselle," observed the Frenchman. "One can +never tell." + +He bent again over the injured foot with the sandal in his hand. + +"It's very good of you to take all this trouble," said Chris abruptly. + +He flashed her a quick smile. "But no, mademoiselle! It gives me pleasure +to be of service to you." + +"I'm sure I don't know what I should have done without you," she +rejoined. "Ah, that is much better. I shall be able to walk now." + +"You think it?" He looked at her doubtfully. + +She nodded. "If you will take me as far as the sand, I shall do +splendidly then. You see, I can't let you come into Valpre with me +because--because--" + +"Because, mademoiselle--?" Up went the black brows questioningly. + +She flushed a little, but her clear eyes met his with absolute candour. +"We have a French governess," she explained, "who was brought up in a +convent, so she is very easily shocked. If she knew that I had spoken to +a stranger, and a man"--she raised her hands with a merry gesture--"she +would have a fit--several fits. I couldn't risk it. Poor mademoiselle! +She doesn't understand our English ways a bit. Why, she wouldn't even let +me paddle if she could help it. I shall have to keep very quiet about +this foot of mine, or it will be '_Jamais encore_!' and '_Encore +jamais_!' for the rest of my natural life. And, after all," pathetically, +"there can be no great harm in dipping one's feet in sea-water, can +there?" + +But the Frenchman looked grave. "You will show your foot to the doctor, +will you not?" he said. + +"Dear me, no!" said Chris. + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +She checked him with her quick, winning smile. + +"Please don't talk French. I like English so much the best. Besides, it's +holiday-time." + +"But, mademoiselle," he persisted, "if it should become serious!" + +"Oh, it won't," she said lightly. "I shall be all right. Nothing ever +happens to me." + +"Nothing?" he questioned, with an answering smile. + +She was hobbling over the stones with his assistance. "Nothing +interesting, I assure you," she said. + +"Except when mademoiselle goes to the cavern of the fairies to look for +the magic knight?" he suggested. + +She threw him a merry glance. "To be sure! I will come and see you again +some day when the tide is low. Is there a dragon in the cave?" + +"He is there only when the tide is high, mademoiselle, a beast enormous +with eyes of fire." + +"And a princess?" asked the English girl, keenly interested. + +"No, there is no princess." + +"Only you and the dragon?" + +"Generally only me, mademoiselle." + +"Whatever do you do there?" she asked curiously. + +His smile was bafflingly direct. "Me? I make magic, mademoiselle." + +"What sort of magic?" + +"What sort? That is a difficult question." + +"May I come and see it?" asked Chris eagerly, scenting a mystery. + +He hesitated. + +"I'll come all by myself," she assured him. + +"_Mais la gouvernante_--" + +"As if I should bring her! No, no! I'll come alone--with Cinders." + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +"If you say that again I shall be cross," announced Chris. + +"But--pardon me, mademoiselle--the governess, might she not object?" + +"Absurd!" said Chris. "I am not a French girl, and I won't behave like +one." + +He laughed at that, plainly because he could not help it. "Mademoiselle +pleases herself!" he observed. + +"Of course I do," returned Chris vigorously. "I always have. I may come +then?" + +"But certainly." + +"When?" + +"When you will, mademoiselle." + +Chris considered. They had reached the firm sand, and she stood still. "I +can't come to-morrow because of my foot, and the day after the tide will +be too late. I shall have to wait nearly a fortnight. How dull!" + +"In a fortnight, then!" said the Frenchman. + +"In a fortnight, _preux chevalier_!" Her eyes laughed up at him. "But I +dare say we shall meet before then. I hope we shall." + +"I hope it also, mademoiselle." He bowed courteously. + +She held out her hand. "I shall come on the tenth of the month--it's my +birthday. I'll bring some cakes, and we'll have a party, and invite the +dragon." Her eyes danced. "We will have some fun, shall we?" + +"I think that we shall not want the dragon," he smiled back. + +"No? Perhaps not. Well, I'll bring Cinders instead." + +"Ah, the good Cinders! He is different." + +"And we will go exploring," she said eagerly. "I shan't be a bit afraid +of anything with you there. The tenth, then! Don't forget! Good-bye, and +thank you ever so much! You won't fail me, will you?" + +He bent low over the impetuous little hand. "I shall not fail you, +mademoiselle. _Adieu_!" + +"_Au revoir_!" she laughed back. "Come along, Cinders! We shall be late +for tea." + +He stood motionless on the sunlit sand and watched her go. + +She was limping, but she moved quickly notwithstanding. Cinders trotted +soberly by her side. + +As she reached the little _plage_, she turned as if aware of his watching +eyes and nonchalantly waved the towel that dangled on her arm. The +sunlight had turned her hair to burnished copper. It made her for the +moment wonderful, and a gleam of swift admiration shot across the +Frenchman's face. + +"_Merveilleux_!" he whispered to himself, and half-aloud, "Good-bye, +little bird of Paradise!" + +With a courteous gesture of farewell, he turned away. When he looked +again, the child, with her glorious, radiant hair, had passed from sight. + +He went back, springing over the rocks, to the Gothic archway that had +fired her curiosity. The tide was rising fast. Already the white foam +raced up to the rocky entrance. He splashed through it, and went within +as one on business bent. + +He was absent for some seconds, and soon a large wave broke with a long +roar and rushed swirling into the cave. As the gleaming water ran out +again, he emerged. + +A single glance was sufficient to show him that retreat by way of the +beach was already cut off. He recognized the fact with a rueful grimace. +The long green waves tumbling along the rocks were rising higher every +instant. + +With a quick glance around him, the young man sprang for an upstanding +rock, reached it in safety, and paused, keenly studying the black face of +the cliff. + +It frowned above him like a rampart, gloomy, terrible, impregnable. He +shrugged his shoulders with another grimace, then, as the foam splashed +up over his feet, leaped lightly onto another rock higher than the first, +whence it was possible to reach a great buttress that jutted outwards +from the cliff itself. + +Once upon this, he began to climb diagonally, clambering like a monkey, +availing himself of every inch that offered foothold. A slip would have +meant instant disaster, but this fact did not apparently occur to him, or +if it did he was not dismayed thereby. He even presently, as he +cautiously worked his way upwards, began to hum again in gay snatches the +song that a child's clear eyes had set running in his brain that +afternoon. + +It was a progress that waxed more perilous as he proceeded. The waves +dashed themselves to cataracts below him. Return was impossible, and many +would have deemed advance equally so. But he struggled on, maintaining +his zigzag course upwards, with nerve unfailing and spirits unimpaired. + +Gulls flew out above his head and circled about him with indignant +protests. He looked somewhat like a gigantic gull himself, his slim white +figure outlined against the darkness of the cliff. He cried back to the +startled birds reassuringly in their own language, but the commotion +continued; and presently, finding precarious foothold on a narrow ledge +halfway up, he stopped to wipe his forehead and laugh with merriment +unfeigned. He was plainly in love with life--one in whose eyes all things +were good, but yet who loved the hazard of them even better. + +The ledge did not permit of much comfort. Nevertheless he managed to +turn upon it and to lean back against the cliff, with his brown face to +sky and sea. He even, after a moment, took out a cigarette and lighted +it. The sun shone full in his eyes, and he seemed to revel in it. A +sun-worshipper also, apparently! + +He smoked his cigarette to the end very deliberately, flicking the +ash from time to time towards the raging water below. When he had +quite finished, he stretched his arms wide with a gesture of sublime +self-confidence, faced about, and very composedly continued his climb. + +It grew more and more arduous as he neared the frowning summit. He had to +feel his way with the utmost caution. Once he missed his footing, and +slipped several feet before he could recover himself, and after this +experience he took a clasp-knife from his pocket and notched himself +footholds where none offered. It was a very lengthy business, and the sun +was dipping downwards to the sea ere he came within reach of his goal. +The top of the cliff overhung where he first approached it, and he had to +work a devious course below it till he came to a more favourable place. + +Reaching a gap at length, he braced himself for the final effort. The +surface of the cliff here was loose, and the stones rattled continually +from beneath his feet; but he clung like a limpet, nothing daunted, and +at last his hands were gripped in the coarse grass that fringed the +summit. Sheer depth was below him, and the inward-curving cliff offered +no possibility of foothold. + +He stood, gathering his strength for a last stupendous effort. It was a +supreme moment. It meant abandoning the support on which he stood and +depending entirely upon the strength of his arms to attain to safety. The +risk was desperate. He stood bracing himself to take it. + +Finally, with an upward fling of the head, as of one who diced with the +gods, he gripped that perilous edge and dared the final throw. Slowly, +with stupendous effort, he hoisted himself up. It was the work of an +expert athlete; none other would have attempted it. + +Up he went and up, steadily, strongly; his head came level with his +hands; he peered over the edge of the cliff. The strain was terrific. The +careless smile was gone from his lips. In that instant he no longer +ignored what lay behind him; he knew the suspense of the gambler who +pauses after he has thrown before he lifts the dice-box to read his fate. + +Up, and still up! The grass was beginning to yield in his clutching +fingers; he dug them into the earth below. Now his shoulders were above +the edge; his chest also, heaving with strenuous effort. To lower himself +again was impossible. His feet dangled over space. And the surging of the +water below him was as the roaring of an angry monster cheated of its +prey. + +He set his teeth. He was nearing the end of his strength. Had he, after +all, attempted the impossible, flung the dice too recklessly, dared his +fate too far? If so, he would pay the penalty swiftly, swiftly, down +among the cruel rocks where many another had perished before him. + +The surging sounded louder. It seemed to be in his brain. It bewildered +him, deprived him of the power to think. A great many voices seemed to +clamour around him, but only one could be clearly heard; only one, and +that the voice of a child close to him--or was that also an illusion born +of the racking strain that had driven all the blood to his head? + +"You won't fail me, will you?" it said. + +Surely his grasp was slackening, his powers were passing, when like a +flashlight those words illuminated his brain. He was as one in deep +waters, swamped and sinking; but that voice called him back. + +He opened his eyes, he drew a great breath. He flung his whole soul into +one last great effort. He remembered suddenly that the little English +girl, the child with the glorious hair and laughing eyes, his +acquaintance of an hour, would be looking for him exactly two weeks from +that moment. He was sure she would look, and--she would be disappointed +if she looked in vain. One must not disappoint a child. + +The memory of her went through him, vivid, enchanting, compelling. It +nerved his sinking heart. It renewed his grip on life. It urged him +upwards. + +Only a child! Only a child! But yet-- + +"I shall not--shall not--fail you!" he gasped, and with the words his +knees reached the top of the cliff. + +His strength collapsed instantly, like the snapping of a fiddle-string. +He fell forward on his face, and lay prone... + +A little later he worked the whole of his body into security, rolled over +on his back with closed eyes to the sky, and waited while his heart +slowed down to its normal rhythmic beat. + +At last, quite suddenly, he sat up and looked around him. The laughter +flashed back into his eyes. He sprang to his feet, mud-stained, +dishevelled, yet exultant. + +He clicked his heels together and faced the sinking sun, slim and +upright, one stiff hand to his head. He had diced with the gods, and he +had won. + +"_Destinee! Je te salue!_" he said, and the next instant whizzed smartly +round with a soldier's precision of movement and marched away towards the +fortress that crowned the hill above the rocks of Valpre. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A ROPE OF SAND + + +Undoubtedly Mademoiselle Gautier was querulous, and equally without doubt +she had good reason to be so; but it made it a little dull for Chris. +Accidents would happen, wherever one went, and what was the good of +making a fuss? + +Of course, every allowance had to be made for poor Mademoiselle in +consideration of the fact that she was torn in pieces by the valiant +attempt to keep her attention focussed upon three children at once. The +effort had not so far been a brilliant success, and Mademoiselle, +conscious within herself of her inability to cope adequately with her +threefold responsibility, being moreover worn out by her gallant struggle +to do so, was inclined to shortness of temper and a severity of judgment +that bordered upon injustice. + +If Chris would persist in flying about the shore in that wild fashion +with her hair loose--that flaming hair which Mademoiselle considered in +itself to be almost indecent--what could be expected but that some +_contretemps_ must of necessity arrive? It was useless for Chris to +protest that it was not her hair that had got her into difficulties, that +she had only left it loose to dry it after her bathe, that there had been +no one to see--at least, no one that mattered--and that the cut on her +foot was solely due to the fact that she had taken off her sand-shoes to +climb over the rocks. Mademoiselle only shook her head with pursed lips. +Chris _etait mechante--tres mechante_, and no amount of arguing would +make her change her opinion upon that point. + +So Chris abandoned argument while the worried little Frenchwoman bathed +and bandaged her foot anew. She would not be able to bathe again for at +least a week, and this fact was of itself sufficient to depress her into +silence. Yet, after a little, when Mademoiselle was gone, a cheery little +tune rose to her lips. It was not her nature to be depressed for long. + +Mademoiselle Gautier would have been something less than human if she had +not yielded now and then under the perpetual strain in which, for many +days past, she had lived. She had come to Valpre in charge of Chris and +her two young brothers, both of whom had developed diphtheria within a +day or two of their arrival. The children's father was absent in India; +his only sister, upon whom the cares of his family were supposed to rest, +was entertaining Royalty, and was far too important a personage in the +social world to be spared at short notice. And so the whole burden had +devolved upon poor Mademoiselle Gautier, who had been near her wits' end +with anxiety, but had nobly grappled with her task. + +The worst of the business, speaking in a physical sense, was now over. +Both her patients--Maxwell, who was Chris's twin, and little Noel, the +youngest of the family, aged twelve--had turned the corner and were +progressing towards convalescence. Over the latter she still had qualms +of uneasiness, but the elder boy was rapidly picking up his strength and +giving more trouble than he had ever given before in the process. + +By inexorable decree Chris was kept away from the two over whom +Mademoiselle, aided by a convent nurse, still watched with unremitting +care; and it did seem a little hard in the opinion of the harassed +Frenchwoman that her one sound charge could not be trusted to conduct +herself with circumspection during her days of enforced solitude. Chris +Wyndham, however, had been a tomboy all her life, and she could scarcely +be expected to reform at such a juncture. She was not accustomed to +solitude, and her restless spirit chafed after distraction. + +The conventions had never troubled her. Brought up as she had been with +three unruly boys, running wild with them during the whole of her +childhood, it was scarcely to be wondered at if her outlook on life was +more that of a boy than a girl. She had been in Mademoiselle Gautier's +charge during the past three years, but somehow that had not sobered her +very materially. She was spoilt by all except her aunt, who was wont to +remark with some acidity that if she didn't come to grief one way or +another, this would probably continue to be the case for the term of her +natural life. But it was quite plain that Aunt Philippa expected her to +come to grief. Girls like Chris, unless they married out of the +schoolroom, usually played with fire until they burnt their fingers. The +fact of the matter was Chris was far too attractive, and though as yet +sublimely unconscious of the fact, Aunt Philippa knew that sooner or +later it was bound to dawn upon her. She did not relish the prospect of +steering this giddy little barque through the shoals and quicksands of +society, being shrewdly suspicious that the task might well prove too +much for her. For with all her sweetness, Chris was undeniably wilful, a +princess who expected to have her own way; and Aunt Philippa had a +daughter of her own, Chris's senior by three years, as well as a son in +the Guards, to consider. + +No, she did not approve of Chris, or indeed of any of the family, +including her own brother, who was its head. She had not approved of his +gay young wife, Irish and volatile, who had died at the birth of little +Noel. She doubted the stability of each one of them in turn, and plainly +told her brother that he must attend to the launching of his children for +himself. She was willing to do her best for them as children, but as +grown-ups she declined the responsibility. + +His answer to this had been that they must remain children until he could +spare the time to attend to them. The eldest boy, Rupert, was now at +Sandhurst, Maxwell was being educated at Marlborough, and Noel, who was +never very strong, was at present with Chris in Mademoiselle Gautier's +care. The summer holiday at Valpre had been Mademoiselle's suggestion, +and bitterly had she lived to regret it. + +Chris had regretted it, too, for a time, but now that her two brothers +were well on the road to recovery it seemed absurd not to extract such +enjoyment as she could from the situation. Of course, it was lonely, but +there was always Cinders to fall back upon for comfort. She was thankful +that she had insisted upon bringing him, though Mademoiselle had +protested most emphatically against this addition to the party. How she +was to get him back again she had not begun to consider. Doubtless, +however, Jack would manage it somehow. Jack was the aforementioned cousin +in the Guards, a young man of much kindness and resource, upon whom Chris +was wont to rely as a sort of superior elder brother. He would think +nothing of running over to fetch them home and to assist in the smuggling +of Cinders back into his native land. In fact, if the truth were told, he +would probably rather enjoy it. + +In the meantime, here was she, stranded with a damaged foot, and all the +delights of the sea temporarily denied to her. Perhaps not quite all, +when she came to think of it. She could not paddle, but she might manage +to hobble down to the shore, and sit on the sun-baked rocks. Even +Mademoiselle could surely find no fault with this. And she might possibly +find someone to talk to. She was so fond of talking, and it was a +perpetual regret to her that she could not understand the speech of the +Breton fishermen. + +It was on the morning of the second day after her accident that this idea +presented itself. All the previous day she had sat soberly in a corner of +the little garden that overlooked the little _plage_ where none but +_bonnes_ and their charges ever passed. Nothing had happened all day +long, and she had been bored almost to tears. The beaming smiles of +Mademoiselle, who was thankful to have her within sight, had been no sort +of consolation to her, and on the second day she came rapidly to the +conclusion that she would die of _ennui_ if she attempted to endure it +any longer. + +She did not arouse Mademoiselle's voluble protests by announcing her +decision. Mademoiselle was busy with the boys, and what was the good? She +was her own mistress, and felt in no way called upon to ask her +governess's leave. + +Her foot was much better. The nurse had strapped it for her, and, beyond +some slight stiffness in walking, it caused her no pain. Her hair was +tied discreetly back with a black ribbon. It ought to have been plaited, +but as Mademoiselle had no time to bestow upon it and Chris herself +couldn't be bothered, it hung in glory below the confining ribbon to her +waist. + +Whistling to Cinders, who was lying in the sunshine snapping at flies, +she rose from her chair in the shade, dropped the crochet with which +Mademoiselle had supplied her on the grass, and limped to the gate that +opened on to the _plage_. + +At this juncture a rhythmical, unmistakable sound made her pause. A quick +gleam of pleasure shone in her blue eyes. She turned her head eagerly. A +troop of soldiers were approaching along the _plage_. + +Sheer fun flashed into the girl's face. With a sudden swoop she caught up +the lazy Cinders. + +"Now you are not to say anything," she cautioned him. "Only when I tell +you, you are to salute. And mind you do it properly!" + +Cinders licked the animated face so near his own. When not drawn by his +one particular vice, he was always ready to enter into any little game +that his mistress might devise. He watched the oncoming soldiers with +interest, a slight frown between his brows. + +The soldiers were interested also. Chris of the merry eyes was not a +spectacle to pass unheeding. She smiled upon them--there were about forty +of them--with the simplicity of a child. + +Rhythmically the blue and red uniforms began to swing past. Their wearers +stared and grinned at the smiling little _Anglaise_ who was so naively +pleased to see them. + +She raised an imperious hand. "Cinders, salute!" And into Cinders' ear +she whispered, "They are only French, chappie, but you mustn't mind." + +And Cinders, quite unconcerned, obeyed his mistress's behest and lifted a +rigid paw to his head. + +A murmur of appreciation ran through the ranks. The grins widened. One +boy, with bold admiration for the _petite Anglaise_ in his black eyes, +raised his hand abruptly and saluted in return. Every man who followed +did likewise, and Chris was enchanted. Mademoiselle Gautier would have +been horrified had she seen her frank nods of acknowledgment, but +mercifully Fate spared her this. + +Behind the last line of marching men came a trim young officer. His sword +clanked at his heels. He swung along with a free swagger, head up, +shoulders back, eyes fixed straight before him. A gallant specimen was +he, for though of inconsiderable height, he was well made and obviously +of athletic build. His thoughts were evidently far away, his handsome, +boyish face so preoccupied that it had the look of a face in a picture, +patrician, aloof, immobile. + +But a sudden glimpse of the girl at the gate--the child with the shining +hair--brought him back in a fraction of time, transformed him utterly. +Recognition, vivid surprise, undoubted pleasure, flashed over his face. +With an eager smile, he paused, clicked his heels together, saluted. + +She extended an eager hand--her left; Cinders monopolized her right. + +"Oh," she exclaimed, "you! I didn't know you were a soldier!" + +He took the hand over the gate, stooped and kissed it. "But I am +delighted, mademoiselle!" he said. + +Cinders was also delighted, and struggled with yelps of welcome to reach +him. He stood up, laughing, and patted the little creature's head. + +"And the foot?" he questioned. + +"Much better," said Chris. "I am going down to the shore presently. I +wish you could come too." + +He smiled and shook his head, with a glance after his men retreating up +the hill towards the fort. "I wish it also, mademoiselle, but--" + +"Couldn't you?" begged Chris. "This afternoon! Just for a little while! +There's only Cinders and me." + +"_Et Mademoiselle la gouvernante--_" + +"She is looking after the boys, and they are ill," Chris explained +cheerfully. "You might come. I'm wanting someone to talk to rather +badly." + +The young officer hesitated. The blue eyes were very persuasive. + +"I would ask you to come in to tea afterwards," she said, "only +Mademoiselle is so silly--quite cracked, in fact, on some points. But +that needn't prevent your coming down to the shore for a little to play +with Cinders and me. You will, won't you? Say you will!" + +"I will, mademoiselle." His surrender was abrupt, and quite decisive. + +She beamed upon him. "We will play at sand-pictures. You know that game, +I expect. One draws and the other has to guess what it's meant for. I +shall look out for you, then. Good-bye!" + +She waved a careless hand, and he, still smiling, saluted again and +hastened after his men. + +She was certainly unconventional, this English girl, quite superbly so. +She was also sublimely and completely irresistible. + +Did she guess of the power that was hers as she turned back into the +little garden? Did some dim suggestion of a spell yet dormant present +itself as she stood thus on the threshold of her woman's kingdom? +Possibly, for her face was thoughtful, and remained so for quite ten +seconds after her new playmate's departure. + +At the end of the ten seconds she kissed Cinders, with the remark, +"Chappie, that little Frenchman is a trump. I'm sure Jack would think +so." She and Jack Forest generally saw things in the same light, which +may have been the reason that Chris valued his opinion so highly. + +She postponed her visit to the shore till the afternoon in consideration +of the fact that her sense of boredom had completely evaporated. After +all, what was there to be bored about? Life was quite interesting again. + +The tide was on the ebb when she finally set forth. She directed her +steps towards a little patch of firm sand which she regarded as +peculiarly her own. The shore was deserted as usual. The _bonnes_ +preferred the _plage_. + +Would he be there before her, she wondered? Yes; almost at once she spied +him in the distance. He had discarded his uniform, in favour of white +linen. She regretted his preference somewhat, but admitted to herself +that linen might be cooler. + +He was very busy with a swagger-cane, drawing in the sand, far too intent +to note her approach, and as he drew he hummed a madrigal in his soft +voice. + +Noiselessly Chris drew near, a dancing imp of mischief in her eyes. She +wanted to get a glimpse of the work of art that he was elaborating with +such care before he discovered her. But his sensibilities were too subtle +for her. Quite suddenly he became aware of her and whizzed round. + +He made her a low bow, but Chris waived the ceremony of greeting with +impatient curiosity. "I want to see what you are doing. I may look?" + +"But certainly, mademoiselle." + +She came eagerly forward and looked. + +"Oh," she said, "is that the dragon? What an awesome creature! Is he +really like that? How splendidly you have done his scales! And what +frightful claws! Why"--she turned upon him--"you are an artist!" + +He shrugged his shoulders, with his ready smile. "I am whatever +mademoiselle desires." + +"How nice!" said Chris. "Well, go on being an artist, please. Draw +something else!" + +"I think it is your turn now, mademoiselle," he said. + +"Oh, but I'm no good at it," she protested. "I can't compete. You are +much too clever." + +He laughed at that and began again. + +She seated herself on a rock and watched him, deeply interested. + +"How quick you are!" she murmured presently. "Whatever is it, I wonder? A +horse with a man on it! Ah, yes! St. George killing the dragon! +Excellent!" She clapped her hands. "It is a real picture. What a pity for +it to be washed away!" + +"The destiny of all things, mademoiselle," he remarked, still elaborating +his work. + +"Not all things!" she exclaimed. "Look at the Sphinx, and Cleopatra's +Needle, and--and a host of other things!" + +"You think that they will endure for ever?" he said. + +"For a very, very long while," she maintained. + +"But for ever, mademoiselle?" He turned round to her, quite serious for +once. "There is only one thing that endures for ever," he said. + +Chris frowned. "I don't want to think about it. It makes me feel giddy," +she said. "Please go on drawing. The tide won't be up yet." + +He turned back again instantly, looking quizzical. "_Alors_, shall we +build a barrier of stones and arrest the sea?" he suggested. + +"Or weave a rope of sand," amended Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DIVINE MAGIC + + +When Chris went bathing it was her custom to slip a mackintosh over her +bathing costume and to run down to the shore thus equipped, discarding +the mackintosh before entering the water and leaving it in the charge of +Cinders. + +Cinders never went treasure-hunting on these occasions, but invariably +sat bolt upright, brimful of importance, watching his mistress's +proceedings from afar with eager eyes and quivering nose. He would never +be persuaded to follow her, owing to a rooted objection to wetting his +feet. He was, as a rule, very patient; but if she kept him waiting beyond +the bounds of patience he howled in a heartrending fashion that always +brought her back. + +Chris was a good swimmer, and had a boy's healthy love of the sea. Great +was her joy when her injured foot healed sufficiently for her to resume +the morning bathe. Mademoiselle Gautier's pleasure was not so keen, but +then--poor Mademoiselle!--who could expect it? Besides, what could she +know of the exquisite enjoyment of floating on a summer sea with the +summer sun in one's eyes and wave after gentle wave rocking one to drowsy +content? + +The only drawback was the impossibility of diving, Chris longed for a +dive on that brilliant morning, longed for the headlong rush through +water, the greenness of it below the surface, the sparkling spray above. +If only she could have commandeered a boat! But that would have entailed +a boatman, and Mademoiselle would have been scandalized at the bare +suggestion. + +"She would make me bathe in a coat and skirt and a hat if she could," +reflected Chris, shaking the wet hair out of her eyes. + +It was still early, not nine o'clock. The sea lay calm and empty all +about her. Was she really the only person in Valpre, she wondered, who +cared for a morning dip? She had swum some way from the little town, and +now found herself nearing the point where the rocks jutted far out to the +sea. The Magic Cave was at no great distance. She saw the darkness of it +and the water foaming white against the cliffs. Even in the morning +light it was an awesome spot, and she remembered how her friend had told +her that the dragon was there when the tide was up. With a timidity +half-actual, half-assumed, she began to swim back to her starting-point. + +Half-way back, feeling tired, she allowed herself a rest in consideration +of the fact that this was the longest swim that she had ever undertaken. +Serenely she lay on the water with her hair floating about her. The +morning was perfect, the sea like a lake. Overhead sailed a gull with no +flap of wings. She wondered how he did it, and longed to do the same. It +must be very nice to be a gull. + +Regretfully at length--for she was still feeling a little weary--she +resumed her leisurely journey towards the shore. As she did so she caught +the sound of oars grating in rowlocks. She turned her head, saw a boat +cutting through the water at a prodigious rate not twenty strokes from +her, caught a glimpse of its one rower, and without a second's hesitation +flung up an imperious arm. + +"Stop!" she cried. "It's me!" + +He ceased to row on the instant, but the boat shot on. She saw the +concern in his face as he brought it back. His black head shone wet in +the sunlight. He was evidently returning from a bathe himself. + +"It's all right," smiled Chris. "Are you in a great hurry? I wondered if +you would tow me a little way. I've come too far, and I'm just a tiny bit +tired." + +He brought the boat near, and shipped his oars. "I will row you to the +shore with pleasure, mademoiselle," he said. + +"No, no," she said. "Just throw me a rope, that's all." + +"But I have no rope, mademoiselle." + +He leaned down to her as she swam alongside; but Chris still hung back, +with laughing eyes upraised. "You will capsize in a minute, and that +won't help either of us. Really, I don't think I will come out." + +But she gave him her hand, nevertheless. + +His fingers closed upon it in a warm clasp that seemed very sure of +itself. He smiled down at her. "I think otherwise, mademoiselle." + +She found it impossible to resist him, and so yielded with characteristic +briskness of decision. "Very well, if you will let me dive from the boat +afterwards. Hold tight, _preux chevalier_! One--two--three!" + +She came up to him out of the sea like a bird rising from the waves. A +moment he had her slim young body between his hands. Then she stepped +lightly upon the thwart, and he let her go. + +And in that instant something happened: something that was like the +kindling of spirit into flame ran between them--a transforming magic that +only one knew for the Divine Miracle that changes the face of the whole +earth. + +To the girl, with her wet hair all around her and her face of baby-like +innocence, it only meant that the sun shone more brightly and the sea was +more blue for the coming of her _preux chevalier_. And she sang, without +knowing why. + +To the man it meant the sudden, primal tumult of all the deepest forces +of his nature; it meant the awakening of his soul, the birth of his +manhood. + +He was young, barely twenty-two. Very early Ambition had called to him, +and he had followed with a single heart. He had never greatly cared for +social pleasures; he had been too absorbed to enjoy them. But now--in a +single moment--Ambition was dethroned. At the time, though his eyes were +open, he scarcely realized that the old supremacy had passed. Only long +afterwards did he ask himself if the death-knell of his success had begun +to toll on that golden morning; because a man cannot serve two masters. + +"A penny for your thoughts!" laughed the elf in the stern, and he came to +himself to wonder how old she was. "No, never mind!" she added. "I +daresay they are not worth it, and I couldn't pay if they were." + +Her eyes dwelt approvingly upon him as, with sleeves rolled above his +elbows, he began to pull at the oars. He was certainly very handsome. She +wondered that she had not noticed it before. + +"Mademoiselle will not swim so far again all alone?" he suggested gently, +after a few steady strokes. + +She looked at him frowningly. There was no faintest tinge of dignity +about her, only the careless effrontery of childhood and the grace that +is childhood's heritage. + +"I am going to swim as far as the skyline some day," she announced +lightly, "and look over the edge of the world." + +"_Mais, mademoiselle_--" + +She held up an imperious hand. "That is one of the things you are not +allowed to say. You are never to talk French to me. It is holiday-time +when I am with you, and I never talk French in the holidays, except to +Mademoiselle, who won't listen to English. And won't you call me Chris? +Everyone else does." + +"Chris?" he repeated after her very softly, his eyes upon her, tenderly +indulgent. "Ah! let it be Christine. I may call you that?" + +"Of course," she returned practically. "My actual name is Christina, but +that's a detail. You can call me Christine if you like it best." + +"I have another name for you," he said, with slight hesitation. + +"Have you?" she asked with interest. "What is it? Do tell me!" + +But he still hesitated. "It will not vex you? No?" + +She flashed him her merriest smile. "Of course not. Why should it?" + +He smiled back upon her, but there was the light of something deeper than +mirth in his eyes. "I call you my bird of Paradise," he said. + +"How pretty!" said Chris. "Quite poetical, _preux chevalier_! You may go +on calling me that if you like, but it's too long for general use. And +what shall I call you? Tell me your Christian name." + +"Bertrand, mademoiselle." + +She held up an admonitory finger. "Chris!" + +"Christine," he said, with his friendly smile. + +She nodded. "Now don't forget! I think I shall call you Bertie because it +sounds more English. I'm going to dive now, so don't row any farther." + +She sprang to her feet and stepped on to the thwart, where she stood +balancing, her arms above her head. + +He waited motionless to see her go. But she remained poised for several +seconds, the sunlight full upon her slim, straight figure and bare, +upraised arms. Her hair, that had begun to dry, fluttered a little in the +breeze. The splendour of it almost dazzled the onlooker. He sat with +bated breath. She was like a young goddess, invoking the spirit of the +morning. + +Suddenly she turned a laughing face over her shoulder. "Bertie!" + +He pulled himself together. "Christine!" he answered, with a quick smile. + +She laughed a little more. "Well done! I wondered if you would remember. +Will you do something for me?" + +"All that you wish," he said. + +"Well, when you come to tea with me in the Magic Cave on the tenth bring +a lantern. Will you?" + +"But certainly," he said. + +"I want to explore," said Chris. "I want to find out all the secrets +there are." + +She turned back to contemplate the deep blue water at her feet, paused a +moment longer; then, "Good-bye, Bertie!" she cried, and was gone. + +He saw the curve of her young body in the sunshine before she +disappeared, felt the spray splash upwards on his face; but he continued +to gaze at the spot where she had stood as a man spellbound, while every +pulse and every nerve throbbed with the thought of her and the mad, sweet +exultation that she had stirred to life within him. Child she might be, +but in that amazing moment he worshipped her as man was made to worship +woman in the beginning of the world. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE BIRTHDAY TREAT + + +It was her birthday, and Chris scampered over the sands with Cinders +tugging at her skirt, singing as she ran. She had three good reasons for +being particularly happy that day--the first and foremost of these being +the long-anticipated adventure that lay before her; the second that her +two young brothers had improved so greatly in health that the tedious +hours of her solitude were very nearly over; and the third that a letter +from Jack, cousin and comrade, was tucked up her sleeve. + +Jack's letters were infrequent and ever delightful. He always struck the +right note. He had written for her birthday to tell her that he had +bought a present for her to celebrate the memorable occasion, but that he +was reserving to himself the pleasure of offering it in person when they +should meet again, which happy event would, he believed, take place at no +distant date. In fact, Chris might see him any day now, since the +privilege of escorting her and her following back to England was to be +his, and he understood that the ruling power had decreed that their +return should not be postponed much longer. + +She was by no means anxious to go; in fact, when the time came she would +be sorry. But she was not thinking of that to-day. It was not her custom +to dwell upon unwelcome things, and Jack had, moreover, made the prospect +attractive by the suggestion that they might possibly spend two or three +days in Paris on their return. Paris under Jack's auspices would be +paradise in Chris's estimation. She could imagine nothing more +enchanting. + +So she and Cinders were in high spirits and prepared to enjoy the +birthday treat to the uttermost. She carried a small--very small--bag of +cakes which Mademoiselle had packed for her picnic--poor Mademoiselle, +who could not understand how any _demoiselle_ could prefer to eat her +food upon the beach. In fact, Chris had only carried the point because it +was her birthday, and naturally Mademoiselle had not been informed that +she had invited a guest to the meagre feast. + +Chris, however, was quite content. With the serenity of childhood she was +sure there would be enough. She even told herself privately that it would +be the best birthday-party she had ever had. And Cinders was apparently +of the same opinion. + +They raced nearly all the way to the rocks, spurred by the sight of a +familiar white figure awaiting them there. He came to meet them with his +customary courtesy, bare-headed, with shining eyes. + +"Will you accept my good wishes?" he said, as he bent over her hand. + +She laughed and thanked him. "I'm getting horribly old. Do you know I'm +seventeen? I shall have to put up my hair next year." + +"I grieve to hear it," he protested. + +"Never mind. It isn't next year yet. Have you remembered the lantern? +Where is it? No, I don't want any help, thank you. I balance best alone." + +She was already skipping over the rocks with arms extended. He followed +her lightly, ready to give his hand at a moment's notice. But Chris was +very sure-footed, and though she allowed him to take her parcel, she +would not accept his assistance. + +"I haven't brought anything to drink," she remarked presently, "I hope +you don't mind." + +No, he minded nothing. Like herself, he was enjoying the treat to the +uttermost. He had not forgotten the lantern. It was waiting by the Magic +Cave. He begged that she would not hasten. The tide would not turn yet. + +But Chris was in an impetuous mood. She wanted to start upon her +adventure without delay. Should they not explore first and have tea +after? It should be exactly as she wished, he assured her. Was it not her +_fete_? + +But when at length she reached the shingle under the cliffs, she found a +surprise in store for her that made her change her mind. + +A white napkin was spread daintily upon a flat-topped rock, and on this +were set a large pink and white cake and a box of _fondants_. + +"Goodness!" ejaculated Chris. + +"_Merveilleux_!" exclaimed the Frenchman. + +She turned upon him. "Now, Bertie, you needn't pretend you are not at the +bottom of it, for I am old enough to know better. No," as he shrugged his +shoulders and spread out his hands, "it's not a bit of good doing that. +It doesn't deceive me in the least. I know you did it, and you're a +perfect dear, and it was sweet of you to think of it. It's the best +picnic I ever went to. And you even thought of tea," catching sight of a +small spirit-kettle that sang in a sheltered corner. "Let's have some at +once, shall we? I'm so thirsty." + +He had forgotten nothing. From a basket he produced cups, saucers, +plates, knives, and arranged them on his improvised table. + +Chris surveyed the cake with frank satisfaction. "What a mercy the gulls +didn't seize it while your back was turned! Do cut it, quick!" + +"No, no! You will perform that ceremony," smiled Bertrand. + +"Shall I? Oh, very well. I expect I shall do it very badly. What lovely +sweets! Did they come out of the Magic Cave? I hope they won't vanish +before we come to eat them." + +"I thought that my bird of Paradise would like them," he said softly. + +"Your bird of Paradise loves them," promptly returned Chris. "In fact, if +you ask me, I think she is inclined to be rather greedy. Please take the +kettle off. It's spluttering. You must make the tea if I'm to cut the +cake. And let's be quick, shall we? I believe it's going to rain!" + +They were not very quick, however, for, as Chris herself presently +remarked, one couldn't scramble over such a cake as that. And the rain +came down in a sharp shower before they had finished, and drove them into +the Magic Cave for shelter. + +The girl's young laughter echoed weirdly along the rocky walls as she +entered, and she turned with a slightly startled expression to make sure +that her companion was close to her. + +He had paused to rescue the remains of the feast. "Quick!" she called to +him. "You will be drenched." + +"_Je viens vite--vite_," he called back, and in a few seconds was at her +side. + +"_Comment_!" he said. "You are afraid, no?" + +"No," said Chris, colouring under his look of inquiry. "But it's horribly +eerie. Where is Cinders?" + +A muffled bark from the depths of the cave answered her. Cinders was +obviously exploring on his own account, and believed himself to be on the +track of some quarry. + +"Light the lantern--quick!" commanded Chris, her misgivings diverted into +another channel. "We mustn't lose him. Isn't it cold!" + +She shivered in her light dress, but turned inwards resolutely. + +"_Tenez_!" exclaimed the Frenchman, quick to catch her mood. "I will go +to find the good Cinders. He is not far." + +"And leave me!" said Chris quickly. + +"_Eh bien_! Let us remain here." + +"And leave Cinders!" said Chris. + +He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then stooped without further words +and kindled his lamp. + +The rain was still beating in fierce grey gusts over the sea and +pattering heavily upon the shingle. The waves broke with a sullen +roaring. Evidently a gale was rising. + +Chris, with her face to the darkness of the cave, shivered again. Somehow +her spirit of adventure was dashed. + +The flame of Bertrand's lamp shone vaguely inwards, revealing a narrow +passage that wound between rugged cliff-walls into darkness. The rock +gleamed black and shiny on all sides. Underfoot were stones of all shapes +and sizes, worn smooth by the sea. + +"What a ghastly place!" whispered Chris, and something seemed to catch +the whisper and repeat it sibilantly a great many times as if learning it +off by heart. + +"Permit me to precede you," said Bertrand. "You will find it not so +narrow in a moment. If you look behind you, you will see the sea as in +the frame of a picture. It is beautiful, is it not?" + +His soft voice and casual words reassured her. She looked and admired, +though the sea was grey and the shore all blurred with rain. + +"There will be a rainbow soon," he said. "See! It grows more light +already." + +But he was looking at her as he spoke, though his glance fell directly +she turned towards him. + +"Do you come here often?" she asked. + +"But very often," he said. + +"And what do you do here?" + +"I will show you by and bye." + +"Very well," she said eagerly. "Then we won't go any farther when we have +found Cinders." + +But this last suggestion was not so easy of accomplishment. The darkness +had swallowed Cinders as completely as though the jaws of the dragon had +closed upon him. + +"Where can he be?" said Chris, a quiver of distress in her voice. + +"Have no fear! We will find him," Bertrand assured her. + +He moved forward, holding the lantern to guide her. She kept very close +to him, especially when a curve in the passage hid the entrance behind +her. Her fancy for exploring was rapidly dwindling. + +As he had told her, the passage soon widened. They emerged into a cave of +some size and considerable height. + +"He will be here," announced Bertrand, with conviction. + +But he was mistaken; Cinders was nowhere to be seen. + +Chris looked around her wonderingly. This chamber in the rock was unlike +anything she had ever seen before. The very atmosphere seemed ominous, +like the air of a dungeon. + +"And you come here often!" she said again incredulously. + +He smiled, and, raising his lantern, pointed to a crevice just above his +head. "That is where I keep my magic." + +Chris stood on tiptoe, and peered curiously. He reached up with his free +hand, and drew forward something that gave back dully the flare of the +lamp. She saw a black tin box that looked like a miniature safe. + +He looked at her with a smile. "It contains my treasures--my black arts," +he said, "and my future." He pushed it back again and turned. "Come! we +will find the naughty Cinders." + +Chris was on the point of asking eager questions regarding this new +mystery, but before she could begin to utter them a long and piteous +howl--the howl of a lost dog--sent them helter-skelter from her mind. + +"Oh, listen!" she cried. "That's Cinders!" + +She sprang forward while the miserable sound was still echoing all about +them. "Oh, isn't it dreadful?" she gasped. "Do you think he is hurt?" + +"No, no!" Bertrand hastened to reassure her. "He is only afraid. We will +go to him." + +He stretched out a hand to her, and she put hers into it as naturally as +a child. Her chin was quivering, and her voice, when she tried to call to +the dog, broke down upon a sob. + +"He will never know where we are because of the echoes," she said. + +"He is not far," declared the Frenchman consolingly. "See, here is the +passage. They say that it was made by the contrabandists, but it leads to +nowhere; it has been blocked since many years. Do not fall on the stones; +they are very slippery." + +A passage, even narrower than the first, led from the cave in which they +had been standing. Bertrand went first, his hand stretched out behind +him, still holding hers. + +They had scrambled in this order about a dozen yards when again they +heard Cinders' cry for help--a pathetic yelping considerably farther away +than it had been before. The unlucky wanderer seemed to have lost his +head in the darkness and to be running hither and thither in wild dismay. + +"What shall we do?" said Chris in tears. "I've never heard him cry like +that before." + +Bertrand paused to listen. "The passage divides near here," he said. +"Courage, little one! We may find him at any moment. Will you then wait +while I search a little farther? I will leave you the lantern. I have +some matches." + +"Oh, please don't leave me!" entreated Chris. "Why can't I come too?" + +"It is too rough for you," he said. "And there are two passages. If I do +not find him in the one, without doubt he will return by the other to +you." + +"You--you'd better take the lantern then," said Chris, with a gulp. "If I +am only going to stand still, I--I shan't want it." + +"No, no--" he began. + +But she insisted. "Yes, really. You will want it. I will wait for you +here, if you think it best. Only you will promise not to be long?" + +"I promise," he said. + +"Then be quick and go," she urged, drawing her hand from his. "We must +find him--we must." + +But when his back was turned, and she saw him receding from her with the +light, she covered her face and trembled. It was the most horrible +adventure she had ever experienced. + +For a long time she heard his footsteps echoing weirdly, but when they +died away at last and she stood alone in the utter, vault-like darkness, +her heart failed her. What if he also lost his way? + +The darkness was terrible. It seemed to press upon her, to hurt her. +Through it came the faint sounds of trickling water from all directions +like tiny voices whispering together. Now and then something moved with a +small rustling. It might have been a lizard, a crab, or even a bat. But +Chris thought of snakes and stiffened to rigidity, scarcely daring to +breathe. The roar of the sea sounded remote and far, yet insistent also +as though it held a threat. And, above all, thick and hard and +agitatingly distinct, arose the throbbing of her frightened heart. + +All the horrors she had ever heard or dreamt of passed through her brain +as she waited there, yet with a certain desperate courage she kept +herself from panic. Cinders might run against her at any moment--at any +moment. And even if not, even if she were indeed quite alone in that +awful place, she had heard it said that God was nearer to people in the +dark. + +"O God," she whispered, "I am so frightened. Do bring them both back +soon." + +After the small prayer she felt reassured. She touched the clammy wall on +each side of her, and essayed a tremulous whistle. It was a brave little +tune; she knew not whence it came till it suddenly flashed upon her that +she had heard it on Bertrand's lips on the day that he had drawn his +pictures in the sand. And that also renewed her courage. After all, what +had she to fear? + +Over and over again she whistled it with growing confidence, improving +her memory each time, till suddenly in the middle of a bar there came the +rush and patter of feet, a yelp of sheer, exuberant delight, and Cinders, +the wanderer, wet, ecstatic, and quite shameless, leaped into her arms. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE SPELL + + +She hugged him to her heart in the darkness, all her fears swept away in +the immensity of her joy at his recovery. + +"But, Cinders, how could you? How could you?" was the utmost reproof she +could find it in her heart to bestow upon the delinquent. + +Cinders explained in his moist, eager way that it had been quite +unintentional, and that he was every whit as thankful to be back safe and +sound in her loving arms as she was to have him there. They discussed the +subject at length and forgave each other with considerable effusion, +eventually arriving at the conclusion that no blame attached to either. + +And upon this arose the question, What of the Frenchman, Chris's _preux +chevalier_, who had so nobly adventured himself upon a fruitless quest? + +"He promised he wouldn't be long," she reflected hopefully. "We shall +just have to wait till he turns up, that's all." + +She would not suffer her rescued favourite to leave her arms again, and +they wiled away some time in the joy of reunion. But the minutes began to +drag more and more slowly, till at length anxiety came uppermost again. + +Chris began to grow seriously uneasy. What could have happened to him? +Had he really lost his way? And if so what could she do? + +Plainly nothing, but wait--wait--wait! And she was so tired of the +darkness; her eyes ached with it. + +Her fears mustered afresh, fantastic fears this time. She began to see +green eyes glaring at her, to hear stealthy footfalls above the long, +deep roar of the sea, to feel the clammy presence of creatures unknown +and hostile. Cinders, too, weary of inaction, began to whimper, to lick +her face persuasively, and to suggest a move. + +But Chris would not be persuaded. She could without doubt have groped her +way back to the cave where Bertrand kept his magic, and even thence to +the shore. But she did not for a moment contemplate such a proceeding. +She would have felt like a soldier deserting his post. Sooner or later +Bertrand would return and look for her here, and here he must find her. + +But her fears were growing more vivid every moment, and when Cinders, +infected thereby, began to growl below his breath and to bristle under +her hand she became almost terrified. + +Desperately she grappled with her trepidation and flung it from her, chid +Cinders for his foolish cowardice, and fell again to whistling Bertrand's +melody with all her might. + +Clear and flutelike it echoed through the desolate tunnels, startlingly +distinct to her strained nerves. Sometimes the echoes seemed to mock her, +but she would not be dismayed. It might be a help to Bertrand, and it +certainly helped herself. + +A long time passed, how long she had not the vaguest notion. Cinders, +grown tired of his own impatience, rested his chin on her shoulder and +went phlegmatically to sleep, secure in her assurance that there was +nothing whatever to be afraid of. Small creature though he was, her arms +ached from holding him, yet she would not let him go, he was too precious +for that; and each minute that passed, so she told herself, brought the +end of her vigil nearer. + +Her heart was like lead within her, but she would not give way to +despair. He was bound to come in the end. + +And come in the end he did, but not till her hopes had sunk so low that +when she heard the first faint sound of his returning feet she would not +believe her ears. But when Cinders heard it also, and raised his head to +growl, she suffered herself to be convinced. He really was coming at +last. + +His progress was very slow, maddeningly slow it seemed to Chris. She +watched eagerly for the first sign of light from his lantern, but she +watched in vain. No faintest ray came to illumine the darkness. Surely it +was he; it could be none other! + +Nearer and nearer came the footsteps, slow and groping. She listened till +she could bear it no longer; then "Bertrand!" she cried wildly. "Bertie! +Oh, is it you! Do speak!" + +Instantly his voice came to her out of the darkness. "Yes, yes. It is me, +little one. I have had--an accident. I am desolated--afflicted; there are +no words that can say. And you awaiting me still, my little bird of +Paradise, singing so bravely in the darkness!" + +"Whistling," corrected Chris; "I can't sing. What on earth has happened? +Are you hurt?" + +"No, no! It is nothing--a _bagatelle_. Ah, but you have found the good +Cinders! I am rejoiced indeed!" + +"Yes, he came to me--ages ago. It is you I have been waiting for all this +time. I thought you were never coming. At least, of course, I knew you +would come; but oh"--with a great sigh--"it has been a long time!" + +"Ah, pardon me!" he said. "But why did you wait?" + +"Of course I waited," said Chris. "I said I would." + +"And you were not afraid? No?" + +He was standing close to her now, and Cinders was wriggling to reach and +welcome him. + +"Yes, a little," Chris admitted. "That's why I whistled. But it's all +right now. Do let us get out." + +"Ah!" he said. "But I fear--" + +"What?" she asked, with sudden misgiving. + +He hesitated a moment, then, "The tide," he said. + +"Bertie!" For the first time Chris's bravely sustained courage broke +down. She thrust out a clinging hand and clutched his arm. "Are we going +to be drowned--here--in the dark?" she said, gasping. + +"No, no, no!" His reply was instant and reassuring. He took her hand and +held it. "It is not that. The water will not reach us. It is only that we +cannot return until the tide permit." + +"Oh, well!" Chris's relief eclipsed her dismay. "That doesn't matter so +much," she said. "Let us get out of this horrid little tunnel, anyhow. +Oh, darling Cinders! He wants to kiss you. Do you mind?" + +Bertrand laughed involuntarily. But she was droll, this English child! +Was it possible that she did not realize the seriousness of the dilemma +in which she found herself? Well, if not--he shrugged his shoulders--it +was not for him to enlighten her. As comrades in trouble they would +endure their incarceration as bravely as they might. + +There was a faint spice of enjoyment in Chris's next remark: "Well, we +are all together, that's one thing, and we've got the cake for supper, if +we can only find it. Will you go first, please, so that I can hold on to +you. It will be nice to see the light again. What happened to the +lantern? Did you drop it?" + +"I fell," he said. "I thought that I heard the good Cinders in front of +me, and I ran. I tripped and struck my head. It stunned me. _Apres cela_, +I lay--_depuis longtemps_--insensible till I awoke and heard you singing +so far--so far away." + +"Whistling," said Chris. + +"I thought it was a bird at the dawn," he said, "flying high in the sky. +And I lay and listened." + +"My dear _chevalier_, you wanted shaking," she interposed, with +pardonable severity. "Are you sure you are awake now? Oh, look! There is +a ray of light! How heavenly! But why didn't you relight the lantern?" + +"It was broken," he said, "and useless. Also I found that I had only +three matches." + +"I hope it will be a lesson to you," she rejoined, breathing a sigh of +relief as they emerged into the dim twilight of the cave. "Oh, isn't it +nice to see again! I feel as if I have been blindfolded for years." + +"Poor little one!" he said. "Can you ever pardon me?" + +They stood together in the deep gloom. They could hear the water lapping +the sides of the passage that led inwards from the shore. + +"It must be knee-deep round the bend," said Chris. "Yes, I'll forgive +you, Bertie. I daresay it wasn't altogether your fault, and I expect your +head aches, doesn't it? I hope it isn't very bad. Is there a very big +lump? Let me feel." + +She passed her hand over his forehead till her fingers encountered the +excrescence they sought. + +"Oh, you poor boy, it's enormous!" she exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me +before? We must bathe it at once." + +But Bertrand laughed and gently drew her hand away. "No--no! It is only a +_bagatelle_. Think no more of it, I beg. I merited it for my negligence. +Now, while there is still light, let us decide where you can with the +greatest convenience pass the night." + +He was prepared for some measure of dismay, as he thus presented to her +the worst aspect of the catastrophe. But Chris remained serene. She was +rapidly recovering her spirits. + +"Oh, yes," she said. "And poor Cinders too! We must find him a nice comfy +corner. He can lie on my skirt and keep me warm. Oh, do you know, I heard +such a funny story the other day about this very cave. I'll tell you +about it presently. But do find the cake first. I'm so hungry. We needn't +go to bed yet, need we? It must be quite early. What time do you think +the tide will let us get out? Poor Mademoiselle will think I'm drowned." + +Chris's awe of the Magic Cave had evidently evaporated. The picnic mood +had returned to take its place, and Bertrand knew not whether to be more +astounded or relieved. He began to feel about for the basket containing +the remnants of their feast, while Chris with much volubility and not a +little merriment explained the situation to Cinders. + +He calculated that they would be at liberty in the early hours of the +morning unless he tempted Fate a second time by climbing the cliff. But +Chris would not for a moment consider this proposition, and he was too +shaken by his recent fall to feel assured of success if he persisted. +Moreover, he seriously doubted if any boat could be brought within reach +of her while the tide remained high. + +Plainly his only course was to follow her lead and make the best of +things. If she managed to extract any enjoyment from a most difficult +situation, so much the better. He could but do his utmost to encourage +this enviable frame of mind. + +Chris, munching cheerfully in the twilight, had evidently quite forgotten +her woes. They went down the passage later as far as the bend, and looked +at the seething water, all green in the evening light, that held them +captive. + +"I wish it wasn't going to be quite dark," she said when they returned. +"But if we hold hands and talk I shan't mind. That was a lovely cake of +yours, Bertie, I shall never forget it." + +They found a ledge to sit on, Chris with her feet curled up; and Cinders, +grown sleepy after a generous meal, pressed against her. She protested +when Bertrand took off his coat and wrapped it round her, but he would +take no refusal. There was a penetrating dampness about the place that he +feared for her. + +"If you sleep, you will feel it," he said. + +"But I'm not going to sleep," declared Chris. "I never felt more +wide-awake in my life. I often do at bedtime. I hope you are not feeling +sleepy either, for I want to talk all night long." + +Bertrand professed himself quite willing to listen. "You were going to +tell me something about this cave," he reminded her. + +"Oh, yes." Chris swooped upon the subject eagerly. "Manon, the little +maid-of-all-work, was telling me. She said that no one ever comes here +because it is haunted. That's what made Cinders and me call it the Magic +Cave. She said that it was well known that no one ever came out the same +as they went in even in the daytime, and if any one were to spend the +night here they would be under a spell for the rest of their lives. Just +think of that, Bertie! Do you think we shall be? She didn't tell me what +the spell was. I expect it was something too bad to repeat. That's how +Cinders and I came to make up about the knight and the dragon. I hope the +dragon won't find us, don't you?" + +She drew a little nearer to him and slipped a hand inside his arm. He +pressed it close to him, + +"Have no fear, _cherie_. No evil can touch you while I am here." + +"I should be terrified if you weren't," she told him frankly. "Did you +ever hear about the spell? Do you know what it means?" + +"Yes," he said slowly; "I have heard. That was in part why I came here at +first, because I knew that I should be alone. I had need of solitude in +order to accomplish that which I had begun." + +"Your magic?" queried Chris eagerly. + +"Yes, little one, my magic. But"--he was smiling--"I have never remained +here for the night. And the charm, you say, is not so potent during the +day." + +"You may be under it already," she said. "I wonder if you are." + +"Ah!" Bertrand's tone was suddenly grave. "That also is possible." + +"I wonder," she said again. "That may be what made you knock your head. +One never knows. But tell me about your magic. What is it? What do you +do?" + +"I think," he said, "I calculate. And I build." + +"What do you build?" + +"It is a secret," he said. + +"But you will tell me!" + +"Why, Christine?" + +"Because I do so want to know," she urged coaxingly. "And I can keep +secrets really. All English people can. Try me!" She thrust forward the +little finger of the hand that his arm held. "You must pinch it," she +explained, "as hard as you can. And if I don't even squeak you will know +I am to be trusted." + +He took the finger thus heroically proffered, hesitated a second, then +put it softly to his lips. "I would trust you with my life," he said, +"with my honour, with all that I possess. Christine, I am an inventor, +and I am at the edge of a great discovery--a discovery that will make the +French artillery the greatest in the world." + +"Goodness!" said Chris, with a gasp; then in haste, "Not--not greater +than ours surely!" + +He turned to her impetuously in the darkness, her hands caught into his. +"Ah, you say that because you are English! And the English--_il faut que +les anglais soient toujours, toujours les premiers_--is it not so--always +and in all things? Yet consider! What is it--this national rivalry--this +strife for the supremacy? We laugh at it, you and I. We know what it is +worth." + +But Chris was too young to laugh. "I don't quite like it," she said. "I'm +very sorry. Shall we talk of something else?" + +But he still held her hands closely clasped. "Listen, Christine, my +little one! These things they pass. They are as a dream in the midst of a +great Reality. They are not the materials of which we weave our life. +Envy, ambition, success--what are they? Only a procession that marches +under the windows, and we look out above them, you and I, to the great +heaven and the sun; and"--something more than eagerness thrilled suddenly +in his voice--"we know that that is our life--the Spark Eternal that +nothing can ever quench." + +He ceased abruptly. Cinders had stirred in his sleep, and she had drawn +away one of her hands to fondle him. + +There fell short silence. Then, her voice a little doubtful, she spoke-- + +"You are not ambitious, then?" + +He threw himself back against the rock, and with the movement a certain +tension went out of the atmosphere--a tension of which she had been +vaguely aware almost without knowing it. + +"Ah, yes, I am ambitious," he said. "I am a builder. I have my work to +do. And I shall succeed. I shall make that which all the world will envy. +I shall be famous." He broke off to laugh exultantly. "Oh, it will be +good--good!" he said. "One does not often reach the summit while one is +yet young. There are times when it seems too wonderful to be true; and +yet I know--I know!" + +"Is it a gun?" said Chris. + +"Yes, _mignonne_, a gun! It is also a secret--thine and mine." + +She uttered a faint sigh. "I wish it wasn't a gun, Bertie. If it were +only an aeroplane, or something that didn't hurt anyone! Of course, you +are a soldier and a Frenchman. I couldn't expect you to understand." + +He laughed rather ruefully. "But I understand all. And you do not love +the French? No?" + +"Not so very much," said Chris honestly. "Of course, I'm not being +personal. I liked you from the first." + +"Ah! But really?" he said. + +"Yes, really; and so did Cinders. He always knows when people are nice. +We shall miss you quite a lot when we go home." + +"Quite a lot!" Bertrand repeated the phrase musingly as if questioning +with himself how much it might mean. + +"Yes," she went on, "we were so lonely till you came." She broke off to +yawn. "Do you know, I'm beginning to get sleepy. Is it the spell, do you +think, or only the dark?" + +"It is not the spell," he said, with conviction. + +"No?" She moved uneasily. "I'm not very comfy," she remarked. "I wish I +were like Cinders. He can sleep in any position. It must be so +convenient." + +"Will you, then, lean on my shoulder?" Bertrand suggested, with a touch +of diffidence. + +She accepted the offer with alacrity. "Oh, yes, if you don't mind. It +would be better than nodding one's head off, as if one were in church, +wouldn't it? But what of you? Aren't you sleepy at all?" + +"I have no desire to sleep," he told her gravely. + +"Haven't you?" Chris's head descended promptly upon his shoulder. "I've +never been up all night before," she said. "It feels so funny. How the +sea roars! I wish it wouldn't. Bertie, you're sure there isn't such a +thing as a dragon really, aren't you?" + +His hand closed fast upon hers. "I am quite sure, _cherie_." + +"Thank you. That's nice," she murmured. "I haven't said my prayers. Do +you think it matters as I'm not going to bed? I really am tired." + +"No, dear," he said. "_Le bon Dieu_ understands." + +She moved her head a little. "Are you going to say yours, Bertie?" + +"Perhaps, little one." + +"Oh, that's all right," she said comfortably. "Good-night!" + +"Good-night, _cherie_!" + +His lips were close, so close to her forehead. He could even feel +her hair blow lightly against his face. But he remained rigid as a +sentry--watchful and silent and still. + +Once during that long night she stirred in her sleep--stirred and nestled +closer to him with an inarticulate murmur; and he turned, moving for the +first time, and gathered her into his arms, holding her there like an +infant against his breast. Thereafter she slept a calm, unbroken slumber, +serenely unconscious of him and serenely content. + +And the man sat motionless, with eyes wide to the darkness, grave and +reverent as the eyes of a warrior keeping his vigil on the eve of +knighthood. But his heart throbbed all night long like the beat of a drum +that calls men into action. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +IN THE CAUSE OF A WOMAN + + +To say that Mademoiselle Gautier was extremely anxious over her young +charge's disappearance would be to state the case with ludicrous +mildness. She was frantic, she was frenzied with anxiety. + +All the evening and half the night she was literally dancing with +suspense, intermingled with fits of despair that reduced her, while they +lasted, to a state of absolute collapse. Before midnight all Valpre knew +that the little English _demoiselle_ was missing, and all Valpre scoured +the shore for her in vain. Some of the fishermen put out in boats and +continued the search by moonlight as near the rocks as it was possible to +go. But all to no purpose. + +When the moon went down, they abandoned the quest; but at dawn, when the +tide was on the turn, they were out again, searching, searching for a +white, drowned face and a mass of red-brown hair. But the sea only +laughed in the sunlight and revealed no secrets. + +Mademoiselle was quite prostrate by that time. She lay in a darkened room +with her head swathed in a black shawl, and called upon all the holy +saints to witness that she had always predicted this disaster. + +Chris's two young brothers slept fitfully, waking now and then to assure +each other uneasily that of course she would turn up sooner or later +sound in wind and limb; she always did. + +Noel, the younger, who was more or less in Chris's confidence, gave it as +his opinion that she had eloped with someone, that officer-chap she met +the other day, he'd lay a wager! But Maxwell poured contempt upon the +bare suggestion. Chris--elope with a Frenchman! He could as easily see +himself eloping with the Goat--a pet name that he and his brother had +bestowed upon Mademoiselle Gautier, and which fitted her rather well upon +occasion. + +Three hours after sunrise the prodigal returned, lightfooted, gay of +mien. She was alone when she arrived, having firmly refused Bertrand's +escort farther then the end of the _plage_, lest poor Mademoiselle, who +hated men, should have hysterics. But the tale of her adventures had +preceded her. All Valpre knew what had happened, and watched her with +furtive curiosity. All Valpre knew that the _petite Anglaise_ had spent +the night in a cave with one of the officers from the fortress, and all +Valpre waited with bated breath, prepared to be duly scandalized. + +But Chris was sublimely unconscious of this. Of course, she knew that +Mademoiselle would be shocked, but then Mademoiselle's feelings were so +extremely sensitive upon all points moral that it was almost impossible +to spend an hour in her company without in some fashion doing violence +to them. One simply tumbled over them, as it were, at every turn. + +She expected and encountered the usual storm of reproach, but when +Mademoiselle proceeded to inform her that she was ruined for life, she +opened her blue eyes wide and barely suppressed a chuckle. She professed +penitence and even asked forgiveness for all the anxiety she had caused, +but she could not see that what had happened possessed the tragic +importance that Mademoiselle assigned to it. According to her distracted +governess, she had almost better have been drowned. For the life of her, +Chris couldn't see why. + +When the tempest had somewhat spent itself, she retreated to her +brothers, to whom she poured out a full and animated account of the +night's happenings. They all agreed that Mademoiselle must have rats in +the upper story to make such a pother over the adventure, though Maxwell, +who held himself to be approaching years of discretion, gave it as his +opinion that the whole thing was a piece of bad luck and an experiment +not to be repeated. + +"It's over anyhow," said Chris. "And we are none the worse, are we, +Cinders? So all's well that ends well, and now I'm going to get something +to eat." + +For the next two days, Mademoiselle continuing to be hysterical at +intervals, Chris was exemplary in her behaviour. Perhaps even she had had +a surfeit of adventure for the time being. She certainly had no further +urgent desire to explore caves, magic or otherwise. She was also a little +tired, and inclined, after her excitement, to feel proportionately slack. +But early on the morning of the third day her strenuous nature reasserted +itself. + +The sea and the sunshine awoke her together and she arose and dressed, +eager to revel in them both. She wondered if Bertrand were out in his +boat, and rather hoped she might encounter him. + +Bertrand, however, was nowhere to be seen, and she proceeded to enjoy her +morning bathe in solitude. It was an enchanting day, and his absence did +not depress her. The tide was low, and she had to wade out a considerable +distance through the rippling waves; but she reached deep water at last +and proceeded forthwith to enjoy herself to her utmost capacity. + +She spent a delicious half-hour thus, and it was with regret that she +finally returned to the shallows and began to wade back to the point +where Cinders, with her mackintosh, awaited her. + +Just beyond this spot was a fair stretch of sand, and she was surprised +as she drew nearer to the shore to hear voices and to see a group of men +in the blue and red uniform of the garrison gathered upon what she had +come to regard as her own particular playground. She peered at them for +some seconds from beneath her hand, for the sun was in her eyes; and +suddenly a queer little thrill, that was not quite fear and not solely +excitement, ran through her. For all in a moment, ringing on the still +air of early morning, there came to her ears the clash of steel meeting +steel. + +"Good gracious!" she said aloud. "It's a duel!" + +A duel it undoubtedly was. She had a clear view of the whole scene, +distant but distinct, could even see the flash of the swords, the rapid +movements of the two combatants. It impressed her like a scene in a +theatre. She did not wholly grasp the reality of it, though her heart was +beating very fast. + +Knee-deep, she stood in the sparkling water, outlined against the blue of +sky and sea, watching. Several seconds passed, during which they seemed +to be fighting with some ferocity. Then, obeying an impulse of which she +was scarcely aware, she moved on through the swishing waves, drawing +nearer at every step, hearing every instant more distinctly the ominous +clashing of the swords. + +When only ankle-deep, she paused again. Perhaps, after all, it was only a +game--a fencing-match, a trial of skill! Of course, that must be it! Was +it in the least likely to be anything more serious? And yet something +within told her very decidedly that this was not so. A trial of skill it +might be, but it was being conducted in grim earnest. + +She said to herself that she would slip on her mackintosh and go. But an +overwhelming desire to investigate a little further kept her dallying. +She had an ardent longing to see the faces of the antagonists. Later she +marvelled at her own temerity, but at the time this overmastering desire +was the only thing she knew. + +She came out of the sea, reached her faithful attendant Cinders, slipped +on the mackintosh, and advanced nearer still to the little group of +officers upon the beach, buttoning it mechanically as she went. + +Ah, she could see them now! One faced her--a mean-visaged man, fierce, +ferret-like, with glaring eyes and evil mouth. She hated him at sight, +instinctively, without question. + +He was thrusting savagely at his opponent, whose back was towards her--a +slim, straight back familiar to her, so familiar that she recognized him +beyond all doubting, no longer needing to see his face. And yet, +involuntarily it seemed, she drew nearer. + +He was fencing without impetuosity, yet with a precision that even to her +untrained perception expressed a most deadly concentration. Lithe and +active, supremely confident, he parried his enemy's attack, and the grace +of the man, combined with a certain mastery that was also in a fashion +familiar to her, attracted her irresistibly, held her spellbound. There +was nothing brutal about him, no hint of ferocity, only a finished +antagonism as flawless as his chivalry, a strength of self-suppression +that made him superb. + +No one noticed Chris's proximity. All were too deeply engrossed with the +matter in hand. But suddenly Cinders, who loved law and order in all +things pertaining to the human race, scented combat in the air. It was +enough. Cinders would permit no brawling among his betters if he could by +any means prevent it. With tail cocked and every hair bristling, he +rushed into the fray, barking aggressively. + +With a cry of dismay Chris rushed after him, and in that instant the man +facing her raised his eyes involuntarily and shifted his position. The +next instant he lunged frantically to recover himself, failed, and with a +violent exclamation received his adversary's point in his shoulder. + +It all happened in a flash, so rapidly that it was over before either +Chris or Cinders had quite reached the scene. Bertrand whirled round +fiercely, sword in hand, anger turning to consternation in his eyes as he +realized the nature of the interruption. + +Chris had a confused impression that the whole party were talking at once +and blaming her, while they buzzed round the wounded man, who lay back in +the arms of one of them and cursed volubly, whether Bertrand, Cinders, +or herself she never knew. + +She had the presence of mind to snatch up her belligerent favourite, who +was snapping at the prostrate officer's legs; and then, for the first +time in her life, an overwhelming shyness descended upon her as the full +horror of her position presented itself. + +"I couldn't help it, Bertie! Oh, Bertie, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, in +an agony of contrition. + +There was a very odd expression on Bertrand's face. She did not +understand it in the least, but thought he must be furious since he was +undoubtedly frowning. If this were the case, however, he displayed +admirable self-restraint, for he banished the frown almost immediately. + +"Mademoiselle has been bathing, yes?" he questioned briskly. "But it is a +splendid morning for a swim. And le bon Cinders also! How he is droll, ce +bon Cinders!" + +He snapped his fingers airily under the droll one's nose, and flashed his +sudden smile into her face of distress. + +"_Eh bien_!" he said. "_L'affaire est finie_. Let us go." + +He stuck his weapon into the sand and left it there. Then, without +waiting to don his coat, he turned and walked away with her with his +light, elastic swagger that speedily widened the distance between himself +and his vanquished foe. + +Chris walked beside him in silence, Cinders still tucked under her arm. +She knew not what to say, having no faintest clue to his real attitude +towards her at that moment. He had ignored her apology so jauntily that +she could not venture to renew it. + +She glanced at him after a little to ascertain whether smile or frown had +supervened. But both were gone. He looked back at her gravely, though +without reproof. + +"Poor little one!" he said. "It frightened you, no?" + +She drew a deep breath. "Oh, Bertie, what were you doing?" + +"I was fighting," he said. + +"But why? You might--you might have killed him! Perhaps you have!" + +He stiffened slightly, and twisted one end of his small moustache. "I +think not," he said, faint regret in his voice. + +Chris thought not too, judging by the clamour of invective which the +injured man had managed to pour forth. But for some reason she pressed +the point. + +"But--just imagine--if you had!" + +He shrugged his shoulders with extreme deliberation. + +"_Alors_, Mademoiselle Christine, there would have been one _canaille_ +the less in the world." + +She was a little shocked at the cool rejoinder, yet could not somehow +feel that her _preux chevalier_ could be in the wrong. + +"He might have killed you," she remarked after a moment, determined to +survey the matter from every standpoint. "I am sure he meant to." + +He shrugged his shoulders again and laughed. "That is quite possible. And +you would have been sorry--a little--no?" + +She raised her clear eyes to his. "You know I should have been +heart-broken," she said, with the utmost simplicity. + +"But really?" he said. + +"But really," she repeated, breaking into a smile. "Now do promise me +that you will never fight that horrid man again." + +He spread out his hands. "How can I promise you such a thing! It is not +the fashion in France to suffer insults in silence." + +"Did he insult you, then?" + +Again he stiffened. "He insulted me--yes. And I, I struck him. _Apres +cela_--" again the expressive shrug, and no more. + +"But how did he insult you?" persisted Chris. "Couldn't you have just +turned your back, as one would in England?" + +"No" Sternly he made reply. "I could not--turn my back." + +"It's ever so much more dignified," she maintained. + +The dark eyes flashed. "Pardon!" he said. "There are some insults upon +which no man, English or French, can with honour turn the back." + +That fired her curiosity. "It was something pretty bad, then? What was +it, Bertie? Tell me!" + +"I cannot tell you," he returned, quite courteously but with the utmost +firmness. + +She glanced at him again speculatively, then, with shrewdness: "When men +fight duels," she said, "it's generally over either politics or--a woman. +Was it--politics, Bertie?" + +He stopped. "It was not politics, Christine," he said. + +"Then--" She paused, expectant. + +His face contracted slightly. "Yes, it was--a woman. But I say nothing +more than that. We will speak of it--never again." + +But this was very far from satisfying Chris. "Tell me at least about the +woman," she urged. "Is it--is it the girl you are going to marry?" + +But he stood silent, looking at her again with that expression in his +eyes that had puzzled her before. + +"Is it, Bertie?" she insisted. + +"And if I tell you Yes?" he said at last. + +She made a queer little gesture, the merest butterfly movement, and yet +it had in it the faintest suggestion of hurt surprise. + +"And you never told me about her," she said. + +He leaned swiftly towards her. There was a sudden glow on his olive face +that made him wonderfully handsome. "_Mignonne_!" he said eagerly, and +then as swiftly checked himself. "Ah, no, I will not say it! You do not +love the French." + +"But I want to hear about your _fiancee_," she protested. "I can't think +why you haven't told me." + +He had straightened himself again, and there was something rather +mournful in his look. "I have no _fiancee_, little one," he said. + +"No?" Chris smiled all over her sunny face. She looked the merest child +standing before him wrapped in the mackintosh that flapped about her bare +ankles, the ruddy hair all loose about her back. "Then whatever made you +pretend you had?" she said. + +He smiled back, half against his will, with the eloquent shrug that +generally served him where speech was awkward. + +"And the woman you fought about?" she continued relentlessly. + +"Mademoiselle Christine," he pleaded, "you ask of me the impossible. You +do not know what you ask." + +"Don't be silly," said Chris imperiously. The matter had somehow become +of the first importance, and she had every intention of gaining her end. +"It isn't fair not to tell me now, unless," with sudden doubt, "it's +somebody whose acquaintance you are ashamed of." + +He winced at that, and drew himself up so sharply that she thought for a +moment that he was about to turn on his heel and walk away. Then very +quietly he spoke. + +"You will not understand, and yet you constrain me to speak. +Mademoiselle, I am without shame in this matter. It is true that I fought +in the cause of a woman, perhaps it would be more true if I said of a +child--one who has given me no more than her _camaraderie_, her +confidence, her friendship, so innocent and so amiable; but these things +are very precious to me, and that is why I cannot lightly speak of them. +You will not understand my words now, but perhaps some day it may be my +privilege to teach you their signification." + +He stopped. Chris was gazing at him in amazement, her young face deeply +flushed. + +"Do you mean me?" she asked at last. "You didn't--you couldn't--fight on +my account!" + +He made her a grave bow. "I have told you," he said, "because otherwise +you would have thought ill of me. Now, with your permission, since there +is no more to say upon the subject, I will return to my friends." + +He would have left her with the words, but she put out an impulsive hand. +"But, Bertie--" + +He took the hand, looking straight into her eyes, all his formality +vanished at a breath. "Ask me no more, little one," he said. "You have +asked too much already. But you do not understand. Some day I will +explain all. Run home to _Mademoiselle la gouvernante_ now, and forget +all this. To-morrow we will play again together on the shore, draw the +pictures that you love, and weave anew our rope of sand." + +He smiled as he said it, but the tenderness of his speech went deep into +the girl's heart. She suffered him to take leave of her almost in +silence. Those words of his had set vibrating in her some chord of +womanhood that none had ever touched before. It was true that she did not +understand, but she was nearer to understanding at that moment than she +had ever been before. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE ENGLISHMAN + + +Chris returned quite soberly to the little house on the _plage_. The +morning's events had given her a good deal to think about. That any man +should deem it worth his while to fight a duel for her sake was a novel +idea that required a good deal of consideration. It was all very +difficult to understand, and she wished that Bertrand had told her more. +What could his adversary of the scowling brows have found to say about +her, she wondered? She had never so much as seen the man before. How had +he managed even to think anything unpleasant of her? Recalling Bertrand's +fiery eyes, she reflected that it must have been something very +objectionable indeed, and wondered how anyone could be so horrid. + +These meditations lasted till she reached the garden gate, and here they +were put to instant and unceremonious flight, for little Noel hailed her +eagerly from the house with a cry of, "Hurry up, Chris! Hurry up! You're +wanted!" + +Chris hastened in, to be met by her young brother, who was evidently in a +state of great excitement. + +"Hurry up, I say!" he repeated. "My word, what a guy you look! We've just +had a wire from Jack. He will be in Paris this evening, and we are to +meet him there. We have got to catch the Paris express at Rennes, and the +train leaves here in two hours." + +This was news indeed. Chris found herself plunged forthwith into such a +turmoil of preparation as drove all thought of the morning's events from +her mind. + +Her brothers were overjoyed at the prospect of immediate departure; +Mademoiselle was scarcely less so; and Chris herself, infected by the +general atmosphere of satisfaction, entered into the fun of the thing +with a spirit fully equal to the occasion. The scramble to be ready was +such that not one of the party stopped to breathe during those two hours. +They bolted refreshments while they packed, talking at the tops of their +voices, and thoroughly enjoying the unwonted excitement. Mademoiselle was +more nearly genial than Chris had ever seen her. She did not even scold +her for taking an early dip. At the time Chris was too busy to wonder at +her forbearance; but she discovered the reason later, without the +preliminary of wondering, when she came to know that it was +Mademoiselle's urgent representations at headquarters regarding her own +delinquencies that had impelled this sudden summons. + +The thought of meeting her cousin added zest to the situation. Though ten +years her senior, Jack Forest had long been the best chum she had--he was +best chum to a good many people. + +Only when by strenuous effort they had managed to catch the one and only +train that could land them at Rennes in time for the Paris express, only +when the cliffs and the dear blue shore where she had idled so many hours +away were finally and completely left behind, did a sudden stab of +realization pierce Chris, while the quick words that her playmate of the +beach had uttered only that morning flashed torch-like through her brain. + +Then and only then did she remember him, her _preux chevalier_, her +faithful friend and comrade, whose name she had never heard, whom she had +left without word or thought of farewell. + +So crushing was her sense of loss, that for a few seconds she lost touch +with her surroundings, and sat dazed, white-faced, stricken, not so much +as asking herself what could be done. Then one of the boys shouted to her +to come and look at something they were passing, and with an effort she +jerked herself back to normal things. + +Having recovered her balance, she managed to maintain a certain show of +indifference during the hours that followed, but she looked back upon +that journey to Paris later as one looks back upon a nightmare. It was +her first acquaintance with suffering in any form. + +Jack Forest, big, square, and reliable, was waiting for them at the +terminus. + +The two boys greeted him with much enthusiasm, but Chris suffered her own +greeting to be of a less boisterous character. Dear as the sight of him +was to her, it could not ease this new pain at her heart, and somehow she +found it impossible to muster even a show of gaiety any longer. + +"Tired?" queried Jack, with her hand in his. + +And she answered, "Yes, dreadfully," with a feeling that if he asked +anything further she would break down completely. + +But Jack Forest was a young man of discretion. He smiled upon her and +said something about cakes for tea, after which he transferred his +attention to more pressing matters. Quite a strategist was Jack, though +very few gave him credit for so being. + +Later, he sat down beside his forlorn little cousin in the great buzzing +vestibule of the hotel whither he had piloted the whole party, and gave +her tea, while he plied the boys with questions. But he never noticed +that she could not eat, or commented upon her evident weariness. +Mademoiselle did both, but he did not hear. + +Chris would have gladly escaped the ordeal of dining in the great +_salle-a-manger_ that night, but she could muster no excuse for so doing. +At any other time it would have been an immense treat, and she dared not +let Jack think that it was otherwise with her to-night. + +So they dined at length and elaborately, to Mademoiselle's keen +satisfaction, but she was aching all the while to slip away to bed and +cry her heart out in the darkness. She could not shake free from the +memory of the friend who would be waiting for her on the morrow, drawing +his pictures in the sand for the playfellow who would never see them--who +would never, in fact, be his playfellow again. + +Returning to the vestibule after dinner to listen to the band was almost +more than she could bear; but still she could not frame an excuse, and +still Jack noticed nothing. He sent the boys to bed, but, as a matter of +course, she remained with Mademoiselle. + +They found a seat under some palms, and Jack ordered coffee. He got on +very well with Mademoiselle as with the rest of the world, and there +seemed small prospect of an early retirement. But at this juncture poor +Chris began to get desperate. She had refused the coffee almost with +vehemence, and was on the point of an almost tearful entreaty to be +allowed to go to bed, when suddenly a quiet voice spoke close to her. + +"Excuse me, Forest! I have been trying to catch your eye for the past ten +minutes. May I have the pleasure of an introduction?" + +Chris glanced quickly round at the first deliberate syllable, and saw a +tall, grave-faced man of possibly thirty, standing at Jack's elbow. + +Jack looked round too, and sprang impulsively to his feet. "You, Trevor! +I thought you were on the other side of the world. My dear chap, why on +earth didn't you speak before? You might have dined with us. Mademoiselle +Gautier, may I present my friend, Mr. Mordaunt?" + +Mademoiselle acknowledged the introduction stiffly. She had no liking for +strange men. + +But Chris looked at the new-comer with frank interest, forgetful for the +moment of her trouble. His smooth, clean-cut face attracted her. His grey +eyes were the most piercingly direct that she had ever encountered. + +"My little cousin, Miss Wyndham," said Jack. "Chris, this is the greatest +newspaper man of the age. Join us, Mordaunt, won't you? I wish you had +come up sooner. Where were you hiding?" + +Mordaunt smiled a little as he took a vacant chair by Chris's side. "I +have been quite as conspicuous as usual during the whole evening," he +said, "but you were too absorbed to notice me. Are you enjoying the +music, Miss Wyndham, or only watching the crowd?" + +Chris did not know quite what to answer, since she had been doing +neither, but he passed on with the easy air of a man accustomed to fill +in conversational gaps. + +"I believe I saw you arrive this evening. Haven't you got a small dog +with a turned-up nose? I thought so. Are you taking him for a holiday? +How do you propose to get him home again?" + +That opened her lips, and quite successfully diverted her thoughts. "He +has had his holiday," she explained, "and we are taking him back. I don't +know in the least how we shall do it. Jack will have to manage it +somehow. Can you suggest anything? The authorities are so horribly strict +about dogs, and I couldn't let him go into quarantine. He would break his +heart long before he came out." + +"A dog of character evidently!" The new acquaintance considered the +matter gravely. "When are you crossing?" he asked. + +"To-morrow," said Jack. "I'm sorry, Chris, but I came off in a hurry, as +matters seemed urgent, and I have to be back by the end of the week." + +"I wonder if you would care to entrust your dog to me," said Mordaunt. "I +am fairly well known. I think I could be relied upon with safety to +hoodwink the authorities." + +He made the suggestion with a smile that warmed Chris's desolate heart. +Not till long afterwards did she know that this man had crossed the +Channel only that day, and that he proposed to re-cross it on the morrow +because of the trouble in a child's eyes that had moved him to +compassion. + +They spent the next half-hour in an engrossing discussion as to the best +means to be adopted for Cinders' safe transit, and when Chris went to bed +at last she was so full of the scheme that she forgot after all to cry +herself to sleep over the thought of her _preux chevalier_ drawing his +sand-pictures in solitude. + +She dreamed instead that he and the Englishman with the level, grey eyes +were fighting a duel that lasted interminably, neither giving ground, +till suddenly Bertrand plunged his sword into the earth and abruptly +walked away. + +She tried to follow him, but could not, for something held her back. And +so presently he passed out of her sight, and turning, she found that the +Englishman had gone also, and she was alone. + +Then she awoke, and knew it was a dream. + + + + +PART I + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE PRECIPICE + + +The angry yelling of a French mob rose outside the court--a low, ominous +roar, pierced here and there with individual execrations, and the +prisoner turned his head and listened. There was a suspicion of contempt +on his face, drawn though it was. What did they care for justice? It was +only the instinct to hunt the persecuted that urged them. Were he proved +innocent ten times over, they would hardly be convinced or cease from +their reviling. + +But he knew that no proof of innocence would be forthcoming. He was +hedged around too completely by adverse circumstances for that. +Everything pointed to his guilt, and only he himself and one other knew +him to be the victim of a deliberate plot devised to compass his +destruction. He was too hopelessly enmeshed to extricate himself, and the +other--the only man in the world who could establish his innocence--was +the man who had set the snare. + +Bertrand de Montville, gunner and genius, had faced this fact until he +was in a measure used to it. There was to be no escape for him. He, who +had dared to scale the heights of Olympus and had diced with the gods, +was to be hurled into the mire to rise therefrom no more for ever. He had +climbed so high; almost his feet had reached the summit. He had completed +his invention, and it had surpassed even his most sanguine hopes of +success. At four-and-twenty he had been acclaimed by his superiors as the +greatest artillery engineer of his time. His genius had won him a footing +that men more than twice his age, and far above him in military rank, +might have envied. He had been honoured by the highest. + +And then at the very zenith of his prosperity had come his downfall. His +gun, the cherished invention that was to place the French artillery at +the head of the list, the child of his brain, his own peculiar treasure, +was discovered to have been purchased by another Government three months +before he had offered it to his own. + +None but himself--so it was believed, so it was ultimately to be proved +to the satisfaction of impartial judges--had been in a position at that +time to betray the secret, for none but himself had then possessed it. +And a great storm of indignation went through the whole country over the +revelation. + +Passionately but uselessly he protested his innocence. There were a few, +even among his judges, who secretly believed him; but the proof was +incontestable. Inch by inch he had been forced down from the heights that +he had so gallantly scaled, and now he was on the brink of the precipice, +no longer fighting, only waiting with the unflinching courage of the +French aristocrat to be hurled headlong into the abyss that yawned below. + +The yelling of the crowd outside the court was only a detail of the +bitter process that was gradually compassing his condemnation. He knew he +was to be convicted. It was written in varying characters upon every +face; pity, severity, disgust--he met them on every hand. And so on this +the fifth and last day of his court-martial he confronted destiny--that +destiny that he had once so gaily dared--with closed lips and eyes that +revealed neither misery nor despair, only the indomitable pride of his +race. Do what they would to him, they would never quench that while life +remained. The worst indignity that man could inflict would provoke no +outcry here. He had protested his innocence in vain, and he had no proof +thereof to offer. It remained for him to face dishonour as an honourable +man, steady and undismayed. Doubtless there were those who would deem his +bearing brazen, but not his worst enemy should call him coward. + +Across the court an Englishman, with keen grey eyes that took in every +detail, sat and sketched him--sketched the proud, fearless pose of the +man and the hard young face, with its faint, patrician smile. The sketch +was little more than outline, a few bold strokes; but the people in +England who saw it a couple of days later felt as if the artist had +deliberately lifted a curtain and shown to them a man's wrung soul. And +everyone who saw it said, "That man is innocent!" + +Trevor Mordaunt said it himself many times that day before and after the +making of the sketch. He knew, as well as did the prisoner himself, that +there would be no acquittal. Almost from the commencement of the trial he +had known it. But he knew also that two at least of the judges were +disposed towards leniency, and upon this fact he based such slender hopes +as he entertained on the prisoner's behalf. As a fellow-correspondent--a +Frenchman--had remarked to him earlier in the trial, whatever the +verdict, they would hardly martyrize the man lest at a later date further +question as to his guilt should arise and all Europe be set bubbling anew +upon that much-discussed topic--French justice. + +Mordaunt was of the same opinion; but, as he watched the young officer +throughout the whole of the day's proceedings, he came to the conclusion +that the verdict was everything in this man's estimation and the sentence +less than nothing. If he were condemned to be blown from his own gun, he +would face the ordeal unshrinking, almost with indifference. Deprived of +honour, what else was there in life? + +So when the end came at last, and the inevitable verdict was pronounced, +Mordaunt shut his note-book with a feeling that there was no more to be +recorded. + +As a matter of fact the sentence was not pronounced at the time, and only +transpired two days later, when it was officially made public--expulsion +from the army and incarceration in a French fortress for ten years. + +"That, of course, will be commuted," said one who knew the probabilities +of the case to Mordaunt when the sentence was made known. "They will +release him _au secret_ in a few years and banish him from the country on +peril of arrest. They are bound to make an example of him, but they won't +keep it up. The verdict was not unanimous. And, above all, they won't +make a martyr of him now. The other _affaire_ is too recent." + +Mordaunt agreed as to the likelihood of this, but he did not find it +particularly consolatory. He had seen the prisoner's face as he was +guarded through the surging, hostile crowd; and he knew that for Bertrand +de Montville the heavens had fallen. + +An innocent man had been found guilty, and that was the end. He was +beyond the reach of any lenient influence now that justice had failed +him. They had pushed him over the edge of the precipice--this man who had +dared to climb so high; and in the hissings and groanings of the crowd he +heard the death-knell of his honour. + +In silence he went down into the abyss. In silence he passed out of +Trevor Mordaunt's life. Only as he went, for one strange second, as +though drawn by some magnetic force, his eyes, dark and still, met those +of the Englishman, with his level, unfaltering scrutiny. No word or +outward sign passed between them. They were utter strangers; it was +unlikely that they would ever meet again. Only for that one second +something that was in the nature of a message went from one man's soul to +the other's. For that instant they were in communion, subtle but +curiously distinct. + +And Bertrand de Montville went to his martyrdom with the knowledge that +one man--an Englishman--believed in him, while Trevor Mordaunt was aware +that he knew it, and was glad. + +For he had studied human nature long enough to realize that even a +stranger's faith may make a supreme difference in the hour of a man's +most pressing need. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CONQUEST + + +It was a sunny morning in the end of June, and Chris was doing her hair +in curls, for she was expecting a visitor. It took a very long time to +do, for there was so much of it; and she looked very worried over the +process. She would have liked to have borrowed Aunt Philippa's maid, but +this was a prohibited luxury except on very exceptional occasions. And +Hilda--dear, gentle Cousin Hilda--was away in Devon with her _fiance's_ +people. So Chris had to wrestle with her difficulties in solitude. + +It was the middle of her first season, and, with a few reservations, she +was enjoying it immensely. The reservations were all directly or +indirectly connected with Aunt Philippa, for whom Chris's feeling was +that of an adventurous schoolboy for a somewhat severe headmaster. She +was not exactly afraid of her, but she was instinctively wary in her +presence. She knew quite well that Aunt Philippa had given her this +season as her one and only chance in life, and had done it, moreover, +more than half against her will, impelled thereto by the urgent +representations of her son and daughter, who looked upon their merry +little cousin as their joint _protegee_. She ought, doubtless, to have +come out the previous year, but her aunt's ill-health had precluded this, +and the whole summer had been spent in the country. + +That excuse, however, would not serve Mrs. Forest this year. She had +taken a house in town, and there was no other course open to her than to +launch her brother's child into society, however sorely against her will. +Her main anxiety had fortunately by that time ceased to exist. There was +no likelihood of Chris, with her brilliant, vivacious ways, outshining +her own daughter. For Hilda was engaged to Lord Percy Davenant, who +plainly had eyes and thoughts for none other, and the marriage was to be +one of the events of the season. + +Chris was therefore accorded her chance upon the tacit understanding that +she was to make the most of it, since Mrs. Forest still maintained her +attitude of irresponsibility where her brother's children were concerned, +although the said brother had drifted to Australia and died there, no one +quite knew how, leaving next to nothing behind him. + +His sons and Chris had been brought up upon their mother's fortune, a sum +which had been set aside for their education by their father at her +death, after which, beyond providing them with a home--the ramshackle +inheritance that had come to him from his father--he had made little +further provision for them. His eldest son, Rupert, was a subaltern in a +line regiment. No one knew whether he lived on his pay or not, and no one +inquired. The second son, who possessed undeniable brilliance, had earned +a scholarship, and was studying medicine. And Noel, now aged sixteen, was +still at school, distinguishing himself at sports and consistently +neglecting all things that did not pertain thereto. + +Undoubtedly they were a reckless and improvident family, as Mrs. Forest +so often declared; but perhaps, all things considered, they had never had +much opportunity of developing any other qualities, though it was +certainly hard that she should be regarded as in any degree responsible +for them. She and her brother had always been as far asunder as the poles +in disposition, and neither had ever felt or so much as professed to feel +the faintest affection for the other. + +It vexed her that Jack and Hilda should take so lively an interest in +Chris, who was bound to turn out badly. Had she not already shown herself +to be incorrigibly flighty? But since it vexed her still more that anyone +should regard her actions as blameworthy, she had yielded to their +persuasions. And thus Chris had been given her chance. + +She was thoroughly appreciating it. Everyone was being kind to her, and +it was all extremely pleasant. She was looking forward keenly to the +coming that morning of Trevor Mordaunt, who had been regarded as a +privileged friend ever since he had smuggled Cinders back into England +three years before, secreted in an immense pocket in the lining of a +great motor-coat. Not that she had seen very much of him since that +memorable occasion. In fact, until the present summer they had scarcely +met again. He was a celebrated man in the literary world, and he +travelled far and wide. He was also immensely wealthy. Men said of him +that whatever he touched turned to gold. And fame, wealth, and a certain +unobtrusive strength of personality had combined to make him popular +wherever he went. + +He was more often out of England than in it, and there were even some who +suspected him of being an empire-builder, though their grounds for doing +so were but slight. + +It was, however, characteristic of Chris that she never forgot her +friends, a characteristic which Trevor Mordaunt also possessed to a +marked degree. Therefore it was not surprising that soon after her first +appearance in London society he had claimed and had been readily accorded +the privileges of old acquaintanceship. + +Since that day they had met casually at several functions, and people +were beginning to wonder a little at Mordaunt's unusual energy in a +social sense, for it was several years since he had brought himself to +tread the mill of a London season. + +Chris always hailed his appearance with obvious pleasure, though she was +very far from connecting it in any sense with herself. He was always kind +to her, always ready to make things go smoothly for her, and she never +knew an awkward moment in his society. There were plenty of people who +spoke of him with awe, but Chris was not one of these. She never found +him in the least formidable. + +And so it was with ingenuous pleasure that she anticipated his advent +that morning. They had met at a dance on the previous evening, and her +card had been full before his arrival. It had not occurred to her to save +a dance for him. + +"I never thought you would come," she had told him in distress. "I wish I +had known!" + +And then he had looked at her quietly for a moment with those intent grey +eyes of his that never seemed to miss anything, and had asked her if he +might call on the following morning, since he was to see nothing of her +that night. + +She had responded with a pressing invitation to do so, and he had simply +thanked her and departed. + +And so when the morning came Chris was still struggling with her hair +when he arrived, having breakfasted in bed and finally arisen at a +scandalously late hour. But that she knew Aunt Philippa to be also in +bed, she would scarcely have ventured upon such a proceeding. Aunt +Philippa knew nothing of the expected visitor. As a matter of fact Chris, +in her airy fashion, had quite forgotten to mention the matter. Mrs. +Forest, being still uncertain as to Mordaunt's state of mind, had +discreetly foreborne to put the girl on her guard. She had at the +beginning of things carefully instilled into her that it was essential +that she should miss no opportunity of making a wealthy marriage, and she +hoped that Chris would have the sense to bear this in mind. + +Had she known of Mordaunt's coming she would probably have drilled her +carefully beforehand, but luckily Chris's negligence spared her this. And +so on that sunny summer morning she was sublimely unconscious of what was +before her, and entered Mordaunt's presence at length almost at a run. +Chris at twenty was very little older than Chris at seventeen. + +"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," was her greeting. "Really I +couldn't help it. I just couldn't get up this morning. You know how one +feels after going to bed at four. It was very nice of you to come so +early. Have you had any breakfast?" + +All this was poured out while her hand lay in his, her gay young face +uplifted, half-merry, half-confiding. + +Yes, Mordaunt had breakfasted. He told her so with a faint smile. "And +please don't apologize for being late," he added. "It is I who am early. +I came early on purpose. I wanted to see you alone." + +"Oh?" said Chris. + +She looked at him interrogatively and then quite suddenly she knew what +he had come to say, and turned white to the lips. For the first time she +was afraid of him. + +"Oh, please," she gasped rather incoherently, "please--" + +"Shall we sit down?" he said gently. "I am not going to do or say +anything that need frighten you. If you were a little older you would +realize that I am at your mercy, not you at mine." + +She looked at him wide-eyed, imploring. "Please, Mr. Mordaunt, can't +we--can't we wait a little? I am afraid, I am so afraid of--of making a +mistake." + +The faint smile was still upon his face, though it did not reach his +eyes. He laid a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. + +"My dear little Chris," he said, "I won't let you do that." + +That comforted her a little, though she still looked doubtful. She +suffered him to lead her to a sofa and sit beside her, but she avoided +his eyes. The crisis had come upon her so suddenly, she knew not how to +deal with it. + +"Has no one ever proposed to you before?" he said. + +"No," she whispered. + +"Well, it's all right," he said kindly. "Don't think I am going to trade +on your inexperience. If you want to say 'No' to me, say it, and I'll go. +I shall come back again, of course. I shall keep on coming back till you +say 'Yes' either to me or to some other man. But I hope it won't be +another man, Chris. I want you so badly myself." + +"Do you?" she said. "How--how funny!" + +"Why funny?" he asked. + +She glanced at him speculatively; her panic was beginning to subside. +"You must be ever so much older than I am," she said. + +"I am thirty-five," he said. + +"And I'm not quite twenty-one." A sudden dimple appeared in the cheek +nearest to him. "Fancy me getting married!" said Chris, with a chuckle. +"I can't imagine it, can you?" + +"You will soon get used to the idea," he said. "Anyhow, there is nothing +in it to frighten you--that is, if you marry the right man." + +She nodded thoughtfully, her brief mirth gone. "But, Mr. Mordaunt, how is +one to know?" + +He leaned towards her. "I believe I can teach you," he said, "if you will +let me try." + +She slipped a shy hand into his. "But you won't ask me to marry you for a +long while yet, will you?" she said pleadingly. + +"Not until you have quite made up your mind to be engaged to me," said +Mordaunt. + +She looked at him quickly. "No, not then either. Not--not till I say you +may." + +He laughed a little; but there was something very protecting, +infinitely reassuring, in his grasp. "And if I accept that condition," +he said--"it's a very despotic one, by the way--but if I accept it, +may I consider that you are engaged to me?" + +Chris hesitated. + +"Not if I tell you that I love you," he said, "that I want you more than +anything else in life, that I would give the soul out of my body to make +you happy?" + +His voice was sunk very low. There was more of restraint than emotion in +his utterance. He spoke as a man who knows himself to be upon holy +ground. + +And Chris was awed. The very quietness of the man made her tremble. She +knew instinctively that here was something colossal, something that +dominated her, albeit half against her will. + +She closed her fingers very tightly upon his hand, but she said nothing. + +He sat silent for several seconds, closely watching her, seeking to read +her downcast eyes. But she would not raise them. Her heart was beating +very quickly, and her breath came and went like the breath of a +frightened bird. + +At last very gently he moved, drew her to him, put his arm about her. +"Are you afraid of me, Chris?" + +She nestled to him with a little gesture that was curiously pathetic. +With her face securely hidden against him, she whispered, "Yes." + +"My darling, why?" he said very tenderly. + +"I don't know why," murmured Chris. + +"Surely not because I love you?" he said. + +She nodded against his shoulder. "You ought not to love me like that. +It's too much. I'm not good enough." + +"My little girl," he said, "I am not worthy to hold your hand in mine." + +His hand was on her hair, stroking, fondling, caressing. She nestled +closer, without lifting her face. + +"You don't know me in the least. I'm not a bit nice really. I get up to +all sorts of pranks. I'm wild and flighty. Ask Aunt Philippa if you want +to know." + +"I know you better than Aunt Philippa, dear," he said. + +"Oh no, you don't. You've only seen my good side. I'm always on my best +behaviour with you." + +"Another excellent reason for marrying me," said Mordaunt. + +"Oh, but I shan't be always. That's just it. You--you will be quite +shocked some day." + +"I will take the risk," he said. + +"I don't think you ought to," murmured Chris. "It doesn't seem quite +fair." + +His hand pressed her head very gently. "Meaning that you don't love me?" +he said. + +She made a vehement gesture of denial. "Of course not. I--I'd be a little +beast if I didn't, specially after the way you helped me with Cinders +long ago. I never forgot that--never! Only I do think--before you marry +me--you ought to know how horrid I can be. It--it's buying a pig in a +poke if you don't." + +He laughed again at that in a fashion that emboldened Chris to raise her +head. + +"I am quite in earnest," she told him, in a tone that tried to be +indignant. "You'll find me out presently. And when you do--" + +She stopped with a gasp. His arms were about her, holding her as she +sat. He looked straight down into the shining blue eyes. "When I do, +Chris--" he said. + +She met his look quite bravely. She was even smiling rather tremulously +herself. "You will get a stick and beat me," she said. "I know. People +who have eyes like steel never make allowances for those who haven't!" + +She got no further, for quite suddenly Trevor Mordaunt dropped his +self-restraint like an impeding cloak and caught her to his heart. For +the fraction of a second her fear came back, she almost made as if she +would resist him; and then in a moment it was gone, lost in a wonder that +left no room for anything else. For he kissed her, once and once only, so +passionately, so burningly, so possessively, that it seemed to Chris as +if, without her own volition, even half against her will, she thereby +became his own. He had dominated her, he had won her, almost before she +had had time to realize that there was a stranger within her gates. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WARNING + + +"Well, all I have to say is, 'Bravo, young un!'" Rupert Wyndham stretched +out a careless arm and encircled his sister's waist therewith. She was +perched on the arm of his chair, and she tweaked his ear airily in +response to this encouragement. + +"Oh, you're pleased, are you?" she said. "That's very nice of you." + +"Pleased is a term that does not express my feelings in the least," he +declared. "I am transported with delight. You are the last person I +should have expected to retrieve the family fortunes, but you have done +it right nobly. I'm told the fellow is as rich as Croesus. It's to be +hoped that he is quite resigned to the fact that he is going to have +plenty of relations when he marries. By the way, hasn't he any of his +own?" + +"None that count--only cousins and things. Such a mercy!" said Chris. +"And oh, Rupert, isn't it a blessing now that we never managed to sell +Old Park, or even to let it? We shall be able to live there ourselves and +turn it into a perfect paradise." + +"He wants to buy it, eh?" Rupert glanced up keenly. + +Chris nodded. "It's only in the clouds at present. He said something +about giving it to me when we marry. But of course," rather hastily, +"we're not going to be married for ever so long. It would have to belong +to him till then. He is going to talk to you about it presently. You +wouldn't object, would you? You are entitled to your share now, he says, +and Max will come into his directly. But Noel's will have to go into +trust till he is of age." + +"An excellent idea!" declared Rupert. "I'm damnably hard up, as your +worthy _fiance_ has probably divined. But why this notion of not getting +married for ever so long? I don't quite follow the drift of that." + +"Oh, don't be silly!" said Chris, colouring very deeply. "How could we +possibly? Everyone would say I was marrying him for his money?" + +"And that is not so?" questioned Rupert. + +"Of course it isn't!" She spoke with a vehemence almost fiery. "I--I'm +not such a pig as that!" + +"No?" He leaned his head back upon the cushion and gazed up at her +flushed face. "What are you marrying him for?" he asked. + +Chris looked back at him with a hint of defiance in her blue eyes. "What +do most people marry for?" she demanded. + +He laughed carelessly. "Heaven knows! Generally because they're stupid +asses. The men want housekeepers and the women want houses, and neither +want to pay for such luxuries. Those are the two principal reasons, if +you ask me." + +Chris jumped off the arm of his chair with an abruptness that seemed to +indicate some perturbation of spirit. She went to one of the long windows +that looked across the quiet square. + +"Those are not our reasons, anyhow," she said, after a moment, with her +back to the cynic in the chair. + +He turned his head at her words and smiled, a mischievous boyish smile +that proclaimed their relationship on the instant. + +"Ye gods!" he ejaculated. "Is it possible that you're in love with him?" + +Chris was silent. She seemed to be watching something in the road below +her with absorbing interest. + +"You needn't trouble to keep your back turned," gibed the brotherly voice +behind her. "I can see you are the colour of beetroot even at this +distance. Curious, very! But I'm glad you are so becomingly modest. It's +the first indication of the virtue that I have ever detected in you." + +"You beast!" said Chris. + +She whirled suddenly round, half-laughing, half-resentful, seized a book +from a table near, and hurled it with accurate aim at her brother's head. + +He flung up a dexterous hand and caught it just as the door opened +to admit Mordaunt, who had been asked to dine to meet his future +brother-in-law. + +Rupert was on his feet in a moment. With the book pressed against his +heart, he swept a low bow to the advancing stranger. + +"You come in the nick of time," he observed, "to preserve me from my +sister's fratricidal intentions. Perhaps you would like to arbitrate. The +offence was that I accused her of being in love--with you, of course. She +seems to think the assertion unwarrantable." + +"Oh, Trevor, don't listen!" besought Chris. "He only goes on like that +because he thinks it's clever. Do snub him as he deserves!" + +"Pray do!" said Rupert. "Begin by asking him how old he is, and whether +he knows his nine-times backwards yet. Also--" + +"Also," broke in Mordaunt, with a smile, "if he can't find something more +profitable to do than to tease his small sister." He extended a quiet +hand. "I have been wanting to make your acquaintance for some time. In +fact, I was contemplating running down to Sandacre for the purpose." + +"Very good of you," said Rupert. He dropped his chaffing air and grasped +the proffered hand with abrupt friendliness. There was something about +this man that caught his fancy. "You would be very welcome at any time. +It isn't much of a show down there, but if you don't mind that--" + +"I shouldn't come for the sake of the show," said Mordaunt. "I'd sooner +see a battalion at work than at play." + +"Ah! Wouldn't I, too!" said Rupert, with sudden fire. "We hope to be +ordered to India next year. That wouldn't be absolute stagnation, anyhow. +I loathe home work." + +Mordaunt looked at the straight young figure brimming with activity, and +decided that the more work this boy had to do the better it would be for +him morally and physically. + +"Keeps you in training," he suggested. + +"Oh, I don't know. One is apt to get unconscionably slack. It's a fool of +a world. The work is all wrongly distributed; some fellows have to work +like niggers and others that want to work never get a look in." Rupert +broke off to laugh. "I'm a discontented beggar, I tell you frankly," he +said. "But I don't expect any sympathy from you, because, being what you +are, you wouldn't reasonably be expected to understand." + +"My good fellow, I haven't always been prosperous," Mordaunt assured him. +"I've had luck, I admit. It comes to most of us in some form if we are +only sharp enough to recognize it. Perhaps it hasn't come your way yet." + +"I'll be shot if it has!" said Rupert. + +"But it will," Mordaunt maintained, "sooner or later." + +"Oh, do you believe in luck?" broke in Chris eagerly. "Because there's +the new moon coming up over the trees, and I've just seen it through +glass. Don't look, Trevor, for goodness' sake! No, no, you shan't! Shut +your eyes while I open the window. You shall see it from the balcony." + +She sprang to the window, and Mordaunt followed with an indulgent smile. + +Rupert scoffed openly. "Chris is mad on charms of every description. If +she hears a dog howl in the night she thinks there is going to be an +earthquake. You had better not encourage her, or there will be no end to +it." + +But Chris, with her _fiance's_ hand fast in hers, was already at the +window. + +"If you don't believe in it, don't come!" she threw back over her +shoulder. "Now, Trevor, you've got to turn your money, bow three times, +and wish. Do wish for something really good to make up for my bad luck!" + +Mordaunt complied deliberately with her instructions, her hand still in +his. + +"I have wished," he announced at length. + +"Have you? What was it? Yes, you may tell me as I'm not doing any. Quick, +before Rupert comes!" + +Her eager face was close to his. He looked into the clear eyes and +paused. "I don't think I will tell you," he said finally. + +"Oh, how mean! And you would have missed the opportunity but for me!" + +He laughed quietly. "So I should. Then I shall owe it to you if it comes +true. I will let you know if it does." + +"You are sure to forget," she protested. + +"No. I am sure to remember." + +She regarded him speculatively. "I don't like secrets," she said. + +"Haven't you any of your own?" he asked. + +"No. At least--" she suddenly coloured vividly under his eyes--"none that +matter." + +He sat down upon the balustrade of the balcony, bringing his eyes on a +level with hers. "None that you wouldn't tell me," he suggested, still +faintly smiling. + +She recovered from her confusion with a quick laugh. "I shouldn't dream +of telling you--some things," she said. + +Her hand moved a little in his as though it wanted to be free, but he +held it still. He bent towards her, his grey eyes no longer searching, +only very soft and tender. + +"You will when we are married, dear," he said. + +But Chris shook her head with much decision. "Oh, no! I couldn't +possibly. You would disapprove far too much. As Aunt Philippa says, you +would be 'pained beyond expression.'" + +But Mordaunt only drew her nearer. "You--child!" he said. + +She yielded, half-protesting. "Yes, but I'm not quite a baby. I think you +ought to remember that. Shall we go back? I know Rupert is sniggering +behind the curtain." + +"I'll break his head if he is," said Mordaunt; but he let her go, as she +evidently desired, and prepared to follow her in. + +They met Rupert sauntering out "to pay his respects," as he termed it, +though, if there were any luck going, he supposed that his future +brother-in-law had secured it all. + +"Thought you didn't believe in luck," observed Mordaunt. + +"I believe in bad luck," returned Rupert pessimistically. "I only know +the other sort by hearsay." + +"Isn't he absurd?" laughed Chris. "He always talks like that. And there +are crowds of people worse off than he is." + +"Query," remarked her brother, with a shrug of the shoulders; but an +instant later, aware of Mordaunt's look, he changed the subject. + +They were a small party at dinner, for there remained but Hilda Forest to +complete the number. She had only that afternoon returned to town. Mrs. +Forest was dining out, to Chris's unfeigned relief. For Chris was in high +spirits that night, and only in her aunt's absence could she give them +full vent. + +But, if gay, she was also provokingly elusive. Mordaunt had never seen +her so effervescent, so sublimely inconsequent, or so naively bewitching +as she was throughout the meal. Rupert, reckless and _debonnaire_, +encouraged her wild mood. As his youngest brother expressed it, he and +Chris 'generally ran amok' when they got together. And Hilda, the sedate, +rather pensive daughter of the house, was far too gentle to restrain +them. + +It was impossible to hold aloof from such light-hearted merry-making, and +Mordaunt went with the tide. Perhaps instinct warned him that it was the +surest way to overcome that barrier of shyness, unacknowledged but none +the less existent, that kept him still a stranger to his little +_fiancee's_ confidence. Her dainty daring notwithstanding, he was aware +of the fact that she was yet half afraid of him, though when he came to +seek the cause of this he was utterly at a loss. + +When he and Rupert were left alone together after dinner, they were +already far advanced upon the road to intimacy. It was the result of his +deliberate intention; for though a girl might keep him outside her inner +sanctuary, it seldom happened in the world of men that Trevor Mordaunt +could not obtain a free pass whithersoever he cared to go. + +Rupert tossed aside his gaiety with characteristic suddenness almost as +soon as the door had closed upon his sister and cousin. + +"I suppose you want to get to business," he said abruptly. "I'm ready +when you are." + +Mordaunt moved into an easy-chair. "Yes, I want to make a suggestion," he +said deliberately. "But it is not a matter that you and I can carry +through single-handed. I want to talk about it, that's all." + +Rupert, his elbows on the table, nodded and stared rather gloomily into +his coffee-cup. "I suppose it'll take about a year to fix it up. Anything +with a lawyer in it does." + +Mordaunt watched him through his cigarette smoke for a few seconds in +silence, until in fact with a slight movement of impatience Rupert +turned. + +"I'm no good at fencing," he said, rather irritably. "You want Kellerton +Old Park, Chris tells me. Have you seen it?" + +"No." + +"Then"--he sat back with a laugh that sounded rather forced--"that ends +it," he declared. "The place has gone to rack and ruin. You can't walk up +the avenue for the thistles. They are shoulder high. And as for the +house, it's not much more than a rubbish-heap. It would cost more than +it's worth to make it habitable. We have been trying to get rid of the +place ever since my father's death, but it's no manner of use. People get +let in by the agent's description and go and see it, but they all come +away shuddering. You'll do the same." + +"I shall certainly go and see it," Mordaunt said. "Perhaps I shall +persuade Chris to motor down with me some day. But in any case, if you +are selling--I'm buying." + +Rupert jumped up suddenly. "I won't take you seriously till you've seen +it," he declared. + +"Oh yes, you will," Mordaunt returned imperturbably. "Because, you see, I +am serious. But we haven't come to business yet. I want to know what +price you are asking for this ancestral dwelling of yours." + +"We would take almost anything," Rupert said. + +He had begun to fidget about the room with a restlessness that was +feverish. Mordaunt remained in his easy-chair, calmly smoking, obviously +awaiting the information for which he had asked. + +"Almost anything," Rupert repeated, halting at the table to drink some +coffee. + +The hand that held the cup was not over-steady. Mordaunt's eyes rested +upon it thoughtfully. + +"I should like to know," he said, after a moment. + +Rupert gulped his coffee and looked down at him. "Murchison said ten +thousand when my father died," he said. "He would probably begin by +saying ten now, but he would end by taking five." + +"Murchison is your solicitor?" + +"And trustee up to a year ago." + +"I see." Mordaunt reached for his own coffee. "And you? You think ten +thousand would be a fair price?" + +Rupert broke again into his uneasy laugh. "I think it would be an +infernal swindle," he said. + +"I will talk it over with Mr. Murchison," Mordaunt said quietly. "I only +wanted to be sure that you were quite willing to sell before doing so." + +Rupert took a turn up the room. He looked thoroughly ill-at-ease. Coming +back, he halted by the mantelpiece and began to drum a difficult tattoo +upon the marble. + +"I don't want you to be let in by Murchison," he said suddenly. "You will +find him damnably plausible. If he thinks you really want the place he +will squeeze you like a sponge." + +"Thanks for the warning!" There was a note of amusement in Mordaunt's +voice. He finished his coffee and rose. "You have done your best to +handicap your man of business, but I think he will get his price in spite +of it. You see, I really do want the place." + +"Without seeing it!" + +"Yes." + +Rupert whizzed round on his heels, and faced him. "Sounds +rather--eccentric," he suggested. + +Mordaunt smiled in his quiet, detached way. "I can afford to be +eccentric," he said. "And now look here, Wyndham. You said something just +now about having to wait a year to fix things up. I don't see the +necessity for that, situated as we are. Since you are willing that I +should buy Kellerton Old Park, and since we are agreed upon the price, I +see no reason to delay payment. I will write you a cheque for your share +to-night." + +"What?" said Rupert. + +He stood up very straight, staring at the man before him as if he were an +entirely novel specimen of the human race. + +"Is it a joke?" he asked at length. + +Mordaunt flicked the ash from his cigarette without looking at him. +Perhaps he felt that he had studied him long enough. + +"No," he said. "I don't see any point in jokes of that sort. Of course, I +know it's not business, but the arrangement is entirely between +ourselves. I don't see why even Murchison should be let into it. We can +settle it later without taking him into our confidence." + +"It's a loan, then?" said Rupert quickly. + +"If you like to call it so." + +"May as well call it by its name," the boy returned bluntly. "You're +deuced generous, Mr. Mordaunt." + +"I know what it is to be hard up," Mordaunt answered. "And since we are +to be brothers we may as well behave as such, eh--Rupert?" + +Rupert's hand came out and gripped his impulsively. For a second he +seemed to be at a loss for words, then burst into headlong speech. + +"Look here! I think I ought to tell you, before you take us in hand to +that extent, that we're a family of rotters. We're not one of us sound. +Oh, I'm not talking about Chris. She's a girl. But the rest of us are +below par, slackers. Our father was the same. There's bad blood +somewhere. You are bound to find it out sooner or later, so you may as +well know it now." + +Mordaunt's grey eyes looked his full in the face. "Is that intended as a +warning not to expect too much?" he asked. + +Rupert's eyelids twitched a little under that direct look. "Yes," he said +briefly. + +"And if I don't listen to warnings of that description?" + +"You will probably get let down." + +Rupert spoke recklessly, yet almost as if he could not help it. +Undoubtedly there was something magnetic about Trevor Mordaunt at times, +something that compelled. He was conscious of relief when the steady eyes +ceased to scrutinize him. + +"Not by you, I think," Mordaunt said, with his quiet smile. "You may be a +rotter, my boy, but you are not one of the crooked sort." + +"I've never robbed anyone, if that's what you mean." Rupert's laugh had +in it a note of bitterness that was unconsciously pathetic. "But I'm up +to the eyes in debt and pretty desperate. If I could have persuaded +Murchison to raise money on the estate, I'd have done it long ago. That's +why this offer of yours seemed too good to be true." + +Mordaunt nodded. "I thought so. It's foul work floundering in that sort +of quagmire. I wonder now if you will allow me to have a look into your +affairs, or if you prefer to go to the devil your own way." + +Rupert coloured and threw back his shoulders, but he did not take +offence. The leisurely proposal held none. "I'm not over keen on going to +the devil," he said. "But neither am I going to let you pay my debts, +thanks all the same." + +Mordaunt glanced at him and smiled. "I think you will cancel that 'but,'" +he said, "in view of our future relationship." + +Rupert hesitated, obviously wavering. "It's jolly decent of you," he said +boyishly. "You make it confoundedly difficult to refuse." + +"You are not going to refuse," said Mordaunt. "No one knows better +than I do that it's ten times pleasanter to give than to receive. But +that--between friends--is not a point worth considering." + +"I should think you have a good many friends," said Rupert. + +"I believe I have." + +"Well,"--the boy spoke with a tinge of feeling beneath his +banter--"you've added to the list to-night, and I wish you joy of your +acquisition! But don't say I didn't warn you." + +"No," said Mordaunt quietly. "I won't say that." He added a moment later, +as he dropped the end of his cigarette into his coffee-cup, "I believe in +my friends, Rupert." + +"Till they let you down," suggested Rupert. + +"They never do." + +"Then allow me to say that you are one of the luckiest fellows I have +ever met." + +"Perhaps." + +"And the best," Rupert added impulsively. + +There was a moment's silence, then, "Shall we join the ladies?" suggested +Trevor Mordaunt, in a tone that sounded rather bored. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DOUBTS + + +"He's nice, isn't he?" said Chris. + +She was seated on a hassock close to her cousin's knee, a favourite +position of hers. + +Hilda's fingers fondled the sunny hair. Her eyes looked thoughtful. "I am +so glad for you, dear," she said. + +"I knew you would be," chuckled Chris. "Aunt Philippa is delighted too. +It's the first time I've ever known her pleased with me. It feels so +funny. Ah! There is my sweet Cinders! I must just let him in." + +She sprang up to admit her favourite, whose imperious scratch at the door +testified to the fact that he was not accustomed to being kept waiting. +There ensued a tender if somewhat pointless conversation between himself +and his mistress before she returned to her seat and her confidences. + +"Did you ever refuse to marry anybody, Hilda?" she wanted to know then. + +"Yes, dear." + +"Many?" + +"Three," said Hilda. + +"Goodness!" Chris looked up with shining eyes of admiration. "How ever +did you do it?" + +"I wasn't in love with them," said Hilda simply. + +"Oh! And you are in love with Percy?" + +"Yes, dear." Again with the utmost simplicity the elder girl made answer. + +"How nice!" said Chris. "But I can't think how you knew," she said, after +a moment. + +Hilda leaned forward to look into the clear eyes. A faint gleam of +anxiety showed for a moment in her own. "But surely you know, Chris!" she +said. + +"I!" said Chris, with a gay shake of the head. "Oh, no, I don't. You +know, I don't believe it's in me to fall in love in the ordinary way. I +was quite angry with Rupert only this evening for jeering at me, as if I +were. Oh, no, Hilda, I'm not in love like that." + +"But, my dear--" Hilda looked down in grave perplexity, not unmixed with +apprehension. + +Chris leaned back against her quite unconcernedly, her hands clasped +round her knees, and laughed like an elf. "Darling, don't look at me like +that! It's too funny. Don't you know that it's only you staid, good +people who ever fall in love properly? The rest of us only pretend. +That's where the romance comes in." + +"But, dear, Trevor Mordaunt is in love with you," Hilda reminded her +gently. + +"Oh yes," said Chris, "I know. That's why I had to accept him. I don't +believe even you could have said No to him." + +Hilda's face cleared a little. She pinched the soft cheek nearest to her. +"After that, don't talk to me about not being in love!" + +"Oh, but really I don't think I am," Chris assured her quite seriously. +"I have only once in my life met anyone with whom I could possibly +imagine myself falling in love. And he was not a bit like Trevor." + +"What was he like?" asked Hilda. "A sort of fancy person? Or someone out +of a book?" + +"Oh no, he was quite real--the nicest man." A faraway look came into +Chris's eyes; she suddenly spoke very softly as one in the presence of a +vision. "I think--I am not sure--that he belonged to the old French +_noblesse_. He was not tall, but beautifully made, just right in every +way, and very handsome, with eyes that laughed--the sort of man one +dreams of, but never meets." + +"And yet he was real," Hilda said. + +"Oh yes, he was real. But it was ages and ages ago. He may have changed +by this time. He may even be dead--my _preux chevalier_." Chris came out +of her dream with a shaky little laugh. "Ah, well, I've given up crying +for him," she said. "Anyhow it was only a game. Let's talk of something +else." + +"It was the man at Valpre," said Hilda. + +"Yes, it was the man at Valpre. I never told you about him, did I? I +never told anyone. Somehow I couldn't. People made such a horrid fuss. +But the very thought of him used to make me cry at one time. Wasn't it +silly? But I missed him so. I couldn't help it. We won't talk about him +any more. It makes me melancholy. Hilda, wouldn't it be a novel idea if +your bridesmaids carried fans instead of Prayer Books? You could have the +marriage service printed on them in gold with illuminated capitals. Would +Aunt Philippa think it immoral, do you think?" + +To anyone who did not know Chris this sudden change might have seemed +bewildering; but Hilda was never taken unawares by her swift transitions. +She did not even deem her flippant, as did her mother. For Chris was very +dear to her. She knew and loved her in all her lightning moods. It was +possible that even she did not wholly understand her, but she was nearer +to doing so than any other in Chris's world just then. + +When Chris danced across to the piano and began her favourite waltz to +the accompaniment of muffled howls from Cinders, she knew that the hour +for confidences was past. Nor had she any desire to prolong it, for it +seemed better to her to leave the hero of Chris's girlhood in obscurity. +She had not the smallest doubt that her young cousin invested him with +all the glamour of a vivid imagination. He was fashioned of the substance +of dreams, and she fancied that Chris herself was more than half aware of +this. + +But still her faint misgiving did not wholly die away. Though Trevor +Mordaunt had secured for himself the girl of his choice, she could not +suppress a grave doubt as to whether he had yet succeeded in winning her +heart. He would ultimately win it; she felt convinced of that. He was a +man who was bound sooner or later to rule supreme. And thus she strove to +reassure herself; but still, in spite of her, the doubt remained. Chris +was so young, so gay, so innocent. She could not bear to think of the +troubles and perplexities of womanhood descending upon her. She was so +essentially made for the joy of life. + +She sat and watched her unperceived, the slim young figure in the shaded +lamplight, the shining hair, the slender neck--all vivid, instinct with +life; and she comprehended the witchery that had caught Mordaunt's heart. +Of the man himself she knew but little. He was not expansive, and +circumstances had not thrown them together. But what she knew of him she +liked. She was aware that her brother valued his friendship very +highly--a friendship begun on a South African battlefield; and though +they had met but seldom since, the intimacy between them had remained +unshaken. + +Trevor Mordaunt was a man of many friends--friends in all ranks and of +many nationalities. No one knew quite how he made them; no one ever saw +his friendships in the making. But all over the world were men who hailed +his coming with pleasure and saw him go with regret. + +She supposed him capable of a vast sympathy, a wide understanding. It +seemed the only explanation. But would he understand her little Chris? +she wondered. Would he make full allowance for her dear caprices, her +whimsical fancies, her butterfly temperament? Would he ever thread his +way through these fairy defences to that hidden shrine where throbbed her +woman's heart? And would he be the first to enter there? She hoped so; +she prayed so. + +"Hilda"--imperiously the gay voice broke through her reverie--"if Percy +wants to know what sort of pendants to give the bridesmaids, be sure you +say turquoise and pearl. It's most important." + +She was still strumming her waltz, and did not hear Mordaunt enter behind +her. + +"I saw a most lovely thing to-day," she went on. "One of those +heart-shaped things that are still hearts even if you turn them upside +down." + +"Is that an advantage?" asked Mordaunt. + +She whizzed round on the music-stool. "Trevor! I wish you wouldn't make +me jump. Of course it is an advantage if a thing never looks wrong way +up. You will remember, won't you, Hilda? Turquoise and pearl." + +"Are you going to be chief mourner?" asked Rupert. + +"Don't be horrid! I'm going to be chief bridesmaid, if that's what you +mean?" + +"And turquoise and pearl is to be the order of the day?" queried +Mordaunt. + +"A white muslin frock and a blue sash, I suppose," supplemented Rupert. +"Hair worn long and tied with a blue bow rather bigger than an +ordinary-sized sunshade. No shoes and no stockings, but some pale blue +sandals over white lace socks. Result--ravishing!" + +Chris glanced round for a missile, found none, so decided to ignore him. + +"Yes," she said to her _fiance_, "and we are going to carry bouquets of +wheat and cornflowers." + +"Sounds like the ingredients of a pudding," said Rupert. + +Chris rose from the piano in disgust, and her brother instantly slipped +into her place. "I say, Hilda," he called, "come and sing! There's no one +to listen to you but me; but that's a detail. Trevor and Christina, pray +consider yourselves excused." + +"We don't want to be excused," said Chris mutinously "Do stop, Rupert! +Cinders doesn't like it." + +Rupert, however, was already crashing through Mendelssohn's Wedding +March, and turned a deaf ear. She picked the discontented one up to +comfort him, and as she did so Trevor moved up to her. He stood beside +her for a few seconds, stroking the dog's soft head. + +Chris looked hot and uncomfortable, as if Rupert's music pounded on her +nerves; but yet she would not make a move. She stood hushing Cinders as +if he had been an infant. + +"Shall we go outside?" Mordaunt said at last. + +She shook her head. + +"Come!" he said gently. + +She turned without a word, laid the dog tenderly in a chair, whispered to +him, kissed him, and went to the open window. + +They stepped out together, and the curtains met behind them. + +The moon had passed out of sight behind the houses, but the sky was +alight with stars. A faint breeze trembled through the trees in the quiet +square garden, and the faint, wonderful essence of summer came from them. +From a distance sounded the roar of countless wheels--the deep chorus of +London's traffic. + +They stood side by side in silence while behind them Rupert played the +Wedding March to a triumphant end. Then quiet descended, and there came a +long pause. + +Chris broke it at last, moved, and shyly spoke. "Trevor!" + +"What is it, dear?" + +She drew slightly towards him, and at once he put a quiet arm about her. +"I want to tell you something," she said. + +"Something serious?" he questioned. + +"I--I don't know." A faint note of distress sounded in her voice. She +laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder with a very confiding +gesture. "I'm not quite happy," she said. + +He held her closer. "Tell me, Chris!" he said very tenderly. + +She uttered a little laugh that had a sob in it. "It's only that--that I +can't help feeling that you're making rather a bad bargain. You know, the +other day--when--when you proposed to me--I didn't have time to think. +I've been thinking since." + +"Yes?" he said. + +"Yes. And now and then--only now and then--I feel rather bad. I--I like +fair play, Trevor. It isn't right for me to take so much and give--so +little." Her voice quivered perceptibly, and she ceased to speak. He +pressed her closer to him, but he remained silent for several seconds. + +At last, "Chris," he said, "will it comfort you to know that what you +call a little is to me the greatest thing on earth?" + +His voice was deep and very quiet, yet a tremor went through her at his +words. + +"That's just what frightens me," she said. + +"It shouldn't frighten you," he said. "It need not." + +"But it does," said Chris. + +He was silent for another space, still holding her closely. In the room +behind them they could hear the cousins talking; but they were alone +together, shut off, as it were, from ordinary converse, alone under the +stars. + +"Suppose," said Mordaunt gently, "you leave off thinking for a bit, and +take things as they come." + +"Yes?" she said rather dubiously. + +He bent down to her. "Chris, I will never ask more of you than you are +able to give." + +She moved at that in her quick, impulsive way, reached up and clasped his +neck. "Oh, Trevor, I do love you!" she said, with a catch in her voice. +"I do want you to have--the best!" + +Her face was raised to his. For the first time she offered him her lips. +They were nearer to understanding each other at that moment than they had +ever been before. + +But as he bent lower to kiss her the notes of the piano floated out to +them again, this time in a soft melody, inexpressibly sweet, full of a +subtle charm, the fairy gold of romance. + +She kissed him indeed--and it was the first kiss she had ever given him; +but he felt her stiffen in his hold even as she did it. And the next +moment, almost with passion, she spoke-- + +"I wish Rupert wouldn't play that thing! He knows--he knows--that I can't +bear it!" + +"What is it?" Mordaunt asked in surprise. + +She answered him with a laugh that did not ring quite true. "It is the +'_Aubade a la Fiancee_.' He is only playing it to torment us. Let us go +in and stop him!" + +She turned inwards with the words, disengaging herself from his arm as +casually as she might have pushed aside a chair. Mordaunt followed her in +silence. There were no further confidences between them that night. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DE PROFUNDIS + + +It was pouring with rain, and the man with the flute at the corner +shivered and pulled his rags more closely about him. He had not been +lucky that day, or, indeed, for many days, as the haggard eyes that +stared out of his white face testified. + +He had spent the past three nights in the open, but to-night--to-night +was cruelly wet. He questioned with himself what he should do. + +In his pocket was that which might procure a night's lodging or a meagre +supper; but it would not supply both. He had to decide between the two, +unless he elected to go on playing till midnight in the drenching rain on +the chance of augmenting his scanty store. + +Though it was June, he was chilled to the bone. In the intervals between +his flute-playing his teeth chattered. He looked horribly ill, but no one +had noticed that. Men who wander about the streets with musical +instruments seldom have a prosperous appearance. Passers-by may fling +them a copper if they have one handy, but otherwise they do not even look +at them. There are so many of these luckless ones, and each looks more +wretched than the last. Most of them look degraded also, but, save for +his rags, this man did not. There was a foreign air about him, but he did +not look the type of foreigner that lives upon English charity. There was +nothing hang-dog about him. He only looked exhausted and miserable. + +At the suggestion of a policeman he abandoned his corner. After all, he +was doing no good there. It was not worth a protest. He turned and +trudged up a side-street, with head bent to the rain. + +It was growing late, high time to seek some shelter for the night if that +were his intention. But he pressed on aimlessly with dragging feet. +Perhaps he had not yet decided whether to perish from cold or hunger, or +perhaps he regarded the choice as of small importance. Possibly even, he +had forgotten that there was a choice to be made. + +The street he travelled was deserted, but he heard the buzz of a motor at +a cross-road, and mechanically almost he moved towards it. He was not +quite master of himself or his sensations. He may have vaguely remembered +that there is sometimes money to be earned by opening the door of a taxi, +but it was not with this definite end in view that he took his way. For, +as he went, he put his flute once more to his lips, and poured a sudden, +silvery melody--the "_Aubade a la Fiancee_"--that a young French officer +had onced hummed so gaily among the rocks of Valpre--into the rain and +the darkness. + +It began firm and sweet as the notes of a thrush, exquisitely delicate, +with the high ecstasy that only music can express. It swelled into a +positive paen of rejoicing, eager, wonderful, almost unearthly in its +purity. It ended in a confused jumble like the glittering fragments of a +beautiful thing shattered to atoms at a blow. And there fell a silence +broken only by the throbbing of the taxi, and the drip, drip, drip, of +the rain. + +The taxi came to a stand close to the lamp-post against which the +flute-player leaned, but he made no move to open the door. The light +flared on his ashen face, showing it curiously apathetic. His instrument +dangled from one nerveless hand. + +A man in evening dress stepped from the taxi. His look fell upon the +wretched figure that huddled against the lamppost. For a single instant +their eyes met. Then abruptly the new-comer wheeled to pay his fare. + +"He's in for a wet night by the looks of him," observed the chauffeur +facetiously. + +"The gentleman is a friend of mine," curtly responded the man in evening +dress. + +And the taxi-cab driver, being quite at a loss, shot away into the +darkness to hide his discomfiture. + +The flute-player straightened himself with a manifest effort and turned +away. If he had heard the words, he had not comprehended them. His wits +seemed to be wandering that night, but he would not even seem to beg an +alms. + +But a hand on his shoulder detained him. "Monsieur de Montville!" a quiet +voice said. + +He jerked round, bringing his heels together with instinctive precision. +Again, in the glare of the lamp-post their eyes met. + +"I have not--the pleasure," he muttered stiffly. + +"My name is Mordaunt," the other told him gravely. "You will remember me +presently, though not probably by name. Come in out of the rain. It is +impossible to talk here." + +He spoke with a certain insistence. His hand held the Frenchman's arm. It +was obvious that he would listen to no refusal. And the man in rags +attempted none. He went with him meekly, as if bewildered into docility. +His single flash of pride had died out like the final flicker of a match. + +With the Englishman's hand supporting him, he stumbled up a flight of +steps that led to the door of one of the houses in the quiet street, +waited till the turning of a latch-key opened the door, and again numbly +yielded to the steady insistence that drew him within. + +He stood on a mat under a glaring electric lamp. The wet streamed down +him in rivulets; he was drenched to the skin. + +Mechanically he pulled the cap from his head and tried to still his +chattering teeth. His lips were blue. + +"This way," said the quiet voice. "Take my arm." + +"But I am so damp, monsieur," he protested shakily. "It will make you +damp also." + +"What of it? I daresay I shall survive it if you do." Very kindly the +voice made answer. He could not see the speaker plainly, for his brain +was in a whirl. He even wondered in a dull fashion if it were all a +dream, and if he would wake in a moment from his uneasy slumber to hear +the rain splashing down the gutters and the voice of a constable in his +ear bidding him move on. + +He went up a flight of stairs, moving almost without his own volition, +the Englishman's arm around him, urging him upwards. + +They came to the threshold of a room of which Mordaunt switched on the +light at entering, and in a moment more the tottering Frenchman found +himself pressed down into a chair. He covered his face with his hands and +sat motionless, trying to still the confusion in his brain. He was +shivering violently from head to foot. + +There followed a pause of some duration, during which he must have been +alone; then again his unknown friend touched him, patted his shoulder, +spoke. + +"Here's a hot drink. You will feel better when you have had it. +Afterwards you shall go to bed." + +He raised his head and stared about him. Mordaunt, holding a cup of +steaming milk that gave out a strong aroma of brandy, was stooping over +him. There was another man in the room, evidently a servant, engaged in +kindling a fire. + +Slowly the vagabond's gaze focussed itself upon Mordaunt's face. He saw +it clearly for the first time and gave a slight start of recognition. + +"I have seen you before," he muttered, frowning uncertainly. "Where? +Where?" + +"Never mind now," returned the Englishman gently. "Drink this. You need +it." + +He lifted a shaking hand and dropped it again. All the strength seemed to +have gone out of him. + +"Monsieur will pardon my feebleness," he murmured almost inarticulately. +"I am--a little--fatigued. It is nothing. It will pass." + +"Drink!" Mordaunt said insistently. + +He held the rim of the cup against the trembling lips, and perforce the +Frenchman drank, at first slowly, then with avidity, till at last he +clasped the cup in both his quivering hands and drained it. + +His eyes sought Mordaunt's apologetically as he gave it back. The apathy +had gone out of them. They looked out of his pinched face with +brightening intelligence. His lips were no longer blue. + +"Ah!" he said, with a deep breath. "But how it was good, monsieur!" + +He glanced downwards, discovered himself to be sitting in a +chintz-covered chair, and blundered hastily to his feet. + +"Tenez!" he exclaimed almost incoherently. "But how I forget! See, I +have--I have--" + +He groped out before him suddenly, words failing him, and only Mordaunt's +promptitude spared him a headlong fall. + +"Bit light-headed, sir?" suggested the servant, glancing round with an +inscrutable countenance. + +"No, he'll be all right. Go and turn on the hot water," said Mordaunt. + +To the Frenchman as the man departed he spoke as to an equal. "Monsieur +de Montville, I am offering you the hospitality of a friend, and I hope +you will accept it. In the morning if you are well enough we will talk +things over. But to-night you are not fit for anything beyond a hot bath +and bed." + +The Frenchman nodded. Certainly his senses were returning to him. His +eyes were growing brighter every instant. "It is true," he said. "I was +ill. But your--so great--kindness has revived me. I will not, then, +trespass upon you longer, except to render to you a thousand thanks. I am +well now. I will go." + +"No," Mordaunt said gently. "You will stay here till morning. You are not +well. You are feverish. And the sooner you get to bed the better. Come! +We are not strangers. Need we behave as if we were?" + +Again de Montville looked at him doubtfully. "I wish that I could +recall--" he said. + +"You will presently," Mordaunt assured him. "In the meantime, it really +doesn't matter, and it is not the time for explanations. I am very glad +to have met you. You surely will not refuse to be my guest for a few +hours." + +He spoke with the utmost kindness, but also with inflexible +determination. The Frenchman still looked dubious, but quite obviously he +did not feel equal to a battle of wills with his resolute host. He +uttered a sigh and said no more. + +He firmly declined the assistance of Mordaunt's man, however, and it was +Mordaunt himself who waited upon him, ignoring protest, till his +shivering _protege_ was safe in bed. + +He seemed to resign himself to his fate then, being too exhausted to do +otherwise. A heavy drowsiness came upon him, and he very soon fell into a +doze. + +Mordaunt sat in an adjoining room, opening and answering letters. His +demeanour was quite serene. Save that he paused now and then and leaned +back in his chair to listen, there was nothing about him to indicate that +anything unusual had taken place. + +It was nearing midnight when his man came softly in with a cup of +beef-tea. + +"All right, Holmes! I'll see to him. You can go to bed," he said then. + +Holmes paused. "I've made up the bed in the spare-room, sir," he said. + +"Oh, thanks! I shall not want it though. I will sleep on the sofa here." + +"Very good, sir." Holmes still paused. He never expressed surprise at +anything his master saw fit to do; he only did his utmost to give his +proceedings as normal an aspect as possible. His acquaintance with +Mordaunt also dated from a South African battlefield; they knew each +other very well indeed. + +"I was only thinking to myself," he said, in answer to Mordaunt's look, +"I could just as easy attend to the gentleman as you could, sir. I'm more +or less up in night duty, as you might say, and I'll guarantee as he +wants for nothing if you'll put him in my charge." + +Holmes had been a hospital orderly in his time, and Mordaunt knew him to +be absolutely trustworthy in a responsible position. Nevertheless he +declined the offer. + +"Very good of you, Holmes! But I would rather you went to bed. I +shouldn't be turning in yet in any case. I have work to do. I don't fancy +he will give any trouble. If he does, I will call you." + +Holmes withdrew without further argument, and a few minutes later +Mordaunt, armed with the beef-tea, went to his guest's bedside. + +He found him dozing, but he awoke at once, looking up with fever-bright +eyes to greet him. + +"Ah! but you are too good--too good," he said. "And I have no hunger now. +I am only yet a little fatigued. I shall repose myself, and I shall find +myself well." + +"Yes, you will be better after a sleep," Mordaunt said. "You shall settle +down when you have had this, and sleep the clock round." + +He was aware once more of the Frenchman's puzzled eyes watching him as he +submissively took the nourishment, but he paid no heed to them. It was +not his intention to encourage any discussion just then. + +Outside, the rain pattered incessantly, beating against the windows. At a +sudden gust of hail de Montville shivered. + +"Monsieur," he said, choosing his words with care, "your great kindness +is such as I can never hope to repay, but permit me to assure you that my +gratitude will constrain me to regard myself your debtor till death. If +it is ever in my power to serve you, I will render that service, cost +what it may. You have called me by my name. It appears that you know me?" + +He paused for an answer. + +"Yes, I know you," Mordaunt said. + +"And for that you extend to me the hand of friendship?" questioned the +Frenchman, his quick eyes still searching the Englishman's quiet face. + +Mordaunt's eyes looked gravely back. "I also happen to believe in you," +he said. "Otherwise I should probably have helped you because you needed +it; but I most certainly should not have brought you here." + +"Ah!" Sudden understanding flashed into de Montville's face; he leaned +forward, stuttering with eagerness. "You--you--I know you now! I know +you! You are the English journalist, the man who believed in me even +against reason, against evidence--in spite of all! I remember you +well--well! I remember your eyes. They sent me a message. They gave me +courage. They told me that you knew--that you were my friend--the only +friend, monsieur, that was not ashamed of me. And I thanked _le bon Dieu_ +that night--that terrible night--simply because I had looked into your +eyes." + +He broke off in quivering agitation. Trevor Mordaunt's hand was on his +shoulder. "Easy--easy!" the quiet voice said. "You are exciting yourself, +my dear fellow, and you mustn't. You must go to sleep. This matter will +very well keep till morning." + +De Montville's face was hidden in his shaking hands. "If I could thank +you--if I could make you comprehend--" he murmured brokenly. + +"I do comprehend. I comprehend perfectly." Mordaunt's voice was soothing +now, almost motherly. He stroked the bent shoulders with a consoling +touch. "Come, man! You are used up; you are ill. Lie down and rest." + +He coaxed his forlorn guest down upon the pillows again and drew the +bedclothes over him. Then for a space he sat beside him, divining that he +would recover his self-command more quickly with him there than left to +his own devices. + +A nervous hand, bony as a skeleton's, came hesitatingly forth to him at +length, and he gripped and held it for several quiet seconds more. + +Finally he rose. "I'll leave you now. If you are wanting anything, you +have only to ask for it. I shall be in the next room. Quite comfortable?" + +Yes, he was quite comfortable. He assured him of this in unsteady tones, +and begged that Mr. Mordaunt would give himself no further trouble on his +account. He would sleep--he would sleep. + +As the assurance was uttered somewhat incoherently, through lips half +closed, Mordaunt judged that he could be trusted to carry out this +intention, and so left him, to return to his writing-table in the +adjoining room. + +Ten minutes later he crept back noiselessly and found him in a deep +sleep. He stood a moment to watch him, and noted with compassion a faint, +pathetic smile that rested on the worn features. + +But he did not guess that Bertrand de Montville had returned in his +dreams to a land of enchantment, where the sun was always shining, and +the sea was at peace, even that land where first he had forgotten the +great goal of his ambition and had halted by the way to listen to a +girl's light laughter while he drew for her his pictures in the sand. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ENGAGED + + +"My dear Trevor, do let me warn you against making yourself in any way +responsible for Chris's brothers." + +Mrs. Forest spoke impressively. She was rather fond of warning people. It +was in a fashion her attitude towards life. + +"You will find," she continued, "that Chris herself will need a firm +hand--a very firm hand. Though so young, she is not, I fear, very +pliable. I have known her do the most unheard-of things, chiefly, I must +admit, from excess of spirits. They all suffer from that upon occasion. +It is a most difficult thing to cope with." + +"But not a very serious failing," said Mordaunt, with his tolerant smile. + +"It leads to very serious complications sometimes," said Mrs. Forest, in +the tone of one who could reveal much were she so minded. + +But Mordaunt did not seem to hear. His eyes had wandered to a light +figure in the doorway--a girl with wonderful hair that shimmered like +burnished copper, and eyes that were blue as a summer sea. It was a +Sunday afternoon, and several people had dropped in to tea. The +engagement had been announced the previous day, and Mordaunt had dropped +in also to give his young _fiancee_ the benefit of his support. Chris, +however, was not, to judge by appearances, needing any support. She +seemed, in fact, to be frankly enjoying herself. The high spirits which +her aunt deplored were very much in evidence at that moment. Her gay +laugh reached him where he sat. Being engaged was evidently the greatest +fun. + +"They are all like that," continued Mrs. Forest, with her air of one +fulfilling an unpleasant duty--"all except Max, who is frankly +objectionable. Gay, _debonnaire_, fascinating, I grant you, but so +deplorably unstable. Those boys--well, I have never dared to encourage +them here, for I know too well what it would mean. If you are really +thinking of buying their old home for yourself and Chris, do be on your +guard or you will never keep them at arms' length." + +"Kellerton Old Park will be Chris's property exclusively," Mordaunt +replied gravely. "If she cares to have her brothers there, she will be +quite at liberty to do so." + +"My dear Trevor, you are far too kind," protested Mrs. Forest. "I see you +are going to spoil them right and left. They will simply live on you if +you do that. You won't find yourself master in your own house." + +"No?" said Mordaunt, with a smile. + +Chris was coming towards him. He rose to meet her. + +"Oh, Trevor," she said eagerly, "I can go down to Kellerton with you +to-morrow, and Max has written to say he will join us there. I am so glad +he can get away. I haven't seen him since Christmas." + +"Isn't he coming to your birthday party?" asked Jack Forest, strolling up +at that moment. + +He addressed Chris, but he looked at his mother, who, after the briefest +pause, made reply, "Of course Chris can ask whom she likes." + +"Oh, can I?" exclaimed Chris. "How heavenly! Then I will get Rupert to +come too. I wish Noel might, but I suppose he is out of the question." + +She slipped a hand surreptitiously inside Jack's arm as her aunt moved +away, and squeezed it. She knew quite well that the party itself had been +of his devising--an informal dance to celebrate her twenty-first +birthday, which was less than a fortnight away. + +Jack smiled upon her indulgently. "Are you going to ask me to your +birthday party, Chris?" + +"No," said Chris. "I shall never ask you anywhere. You have a free pass +always so far as I am concerned." + +He made her a low bow. "You listening, Trevor? I'll bet she never said +that to you." + +But Chris turned swiftly away towards her _fiance_. "There is no need to +say anything of that sort to Trevor," she said, in her quick way. "He +understands without." + +"Thank you," said Trevor quietly. + +Jack laughed. "One to you, my boy! I admit it frankly. By the way, I +heard a funny story about you yesterday. Someone said you were turning +your rooms in Clive Street into a home for sick organ-grinders. Is it +true by any chance?" + +"Not strictly," said Mordaunt. + +"Nor strictly untrue either," commented Jack. "I know the sort of thing. +You are always doing it. Was it a child or a woman or a monkey this +time?" + +"It was a man," said Mordaunt. + +"A man! A friend of yours, I suppose?" Jack smiled over the phrase. He +had heard it on Mordaunt's lips more than once. + +"Exactly. A friend of mine." The tone of Mordaunt's reply did not +encourage further inquiries. + +Chris, glancing at him, saw a slight frown between his brows, and +promptly changed the subject. + +"It's really rather good of Aunt Philippa to let me have the boys here," +she said later, when they were alone together for a moment just before he +took his departure. "She never gets on with them, especially Max. Of +course it's partly his fault. I hope you will like each other, Trevor." + +By which sentence Trevor divined that this was her favourite brother. + +"We shall get on all right," he said. + +"It isn't everyone that likes Max," she said. "But he's tremendously nice +really, and very clever. What time will you be here to-morrow? I must try +not to keep you waiting." + +But of course when the morning came she did keep him waiting. With the +best intentions, Chris seldom managed to be ready for anything. And +Mordaunt had nearly half an hour to wait before she joined him. + +She raced down at last with airy apology. "I'm very sorry really. But it +was Cinders' fault. We went to be photographed, and I couldn't get him to +sit at the right angle. And then when I got back I had to dress, and +everything went wrong." + +She was carrying Cinders under her arm and evidently meant him to join +their expedition. She did not look as if everything had gone wrong with +her, neither did she look particularly penitent. She laughed up at him +merrily, and he--because he could not help it--drew her to him and kissed +her. + +"Oh, but you should kiss Cinders too," she said. "I love kissing Cinders. +He is like satin." + +"If we don't start we shall never get there," observed Mordaunt. + +"What an obvious remark!" laughed Chris. "Let's start at once. I hope you +are going to scorch. Wouldn't it be funny if the motor broke down and we +had to spend the night under a hedge? We should enjoy that, shouldn't we, +Cinders? We would pretend we were gipsies or organ-grinders. Oh, Trevor, +it is a sweet motor! Do let me drive!" + +"While I sit behind with Cinders?" he said. "Thanks very much, but I'd +rather not. Do you think we want Cinders, by the way?" + +She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. Her motor-bonnet gave her a +very babyish appearance. She hugged her favourite to her as she might +have hugged a doll. + +"Of course we want Cinders! Why, he has been looking forward to it for +ever so long. Kellerton is home to him, you know." + +"Oh, very well! Jump in," said Mordaunt, with resignation. "Are you going +to sit beside me?" + +"Of course we are. We can see better in front. Oh, Trevor, I am horrid. I +quite forgot to thank you for that lovely, lovely ring. I'm wearing it +round my neck, because I had to wash Cinders this morning, and I was +afraid of hurting it. I've never worn a ring before. And it was so dear +of you to remember that I liked turquoise and pearl. I was furious with +Aunt Philippa because--" She broke off abruptly. + +Mordaunt was starting the motor, but as they skimmed smoothly away he +spoke. "Aunt Philippa thought it ought to have been diamonds, I suppose?" + +"Well, yes," Chris admitted, turning very red. "But I--I didn't agree +with her. Diamonds are not to be compared with pearls." + +"You are not old enough for diamonds, dear," he said. "I will give you +diamonds later." + +"Oh, but I don't want any." Shyly her hand pressed his knee. "Please +don't give me too much, Trevor," she said. "I shall never dare to ask for +the things I really want if you do. Aunt Philippa thinks I'm getting +horribly spoilt as it is." + +"I don't," he said. + +"How nice of you, Trevor! Do you know I'm so happy to-day, I want to +sing." + +"You may sing to your heart's content when we get out into the country," +he said. + +She laughed. "No, no! Cinders would howl. How cleverly you drive! You +will teach me some day, won't you? Do you know, I dreamt I was driving +your organ-grinder last night. Do tell me about him. Is he really a +friend of yours?" + +"Yes, really, Chris." + +"How exciting!" said Chris, keenly interested. "And what are you going to +do with him?" + +"I haven't decided at present. He has had a pretty bad spell of +starvation. I don't know yet what he is fit for." + +"It must be dreadful to starve," said Chris soberly. "It's bad enough not +to have any pocket-money. But to starve--Is he ill, then?" + +"He has been. He is getting better." + +"And you are taking care of him?" + +"Yes, I'm housing him for the present." + +"Trevor, it was good of you not to send him to the workhouse." + +Mordaunt frowned. "It was not a case for the workhouse. He would probably +have died before he came to that." + +"Oh, how dreadful!" A shadow crossed her vivid face. "But--he won't die +now, you think?" + +"Not now, no!" + +"And you won't let him go organ-grinding any more?" + +"No." + +"That's all right; though I don't think it would be at all bad on fine +days in the country, if one had a nice little donkey to pull the organ." + +"Nice little donkeys have to be fed," Mordaunt reminded her. + +"Oh yes. But they eat grass and thistles and things. And they never die. +Isn't that extraordinary? One would think the world would get overrun +with them, wouldn't one?" + +"So it is, more or less," observed Mordaunt. + +"Trevor! What a disgusting insinuation!" The merry laugh pealed out. +"I've a good mind to turn round and go straight back." + +"If you think you could," he said. + +"Of course I could!" Chris leaned forward and laid a daring hand on the +wheel. + +"Yes," he said. "But that won't do it, you know." + +"But if I were in earnest?" she said, a quick note of pleading in her +voice. "If I really wanted you to turn round?" + +He kept his eyes fixed ahead. "Are you ever really in earnest, Chris?" he +said. + +"Of course I am!" + +Mordaunt was silent. They were crossing a crowded thoroughfare, and his +driving seemed to occupy his full attention. + +Chris waited till he had extricated the car from the stream of traffic, +then impulsively she spoke-- + +"Trevor, I didn't think you were like Aunt Philippa. I thought you +understood." + +She saw his grave face soften. "Believe me, I am not in the least like +your Aunt Philippa," he said. + +"No; but--" + +"But, Chris?" + +"I think you needn't have asked me that," she said, a little quiver in +her voice. "Even Cinders knows me better than that." + +"Cinders ought to know you better than anyone," remarked Mordaunt. "His +opportunities are unlimited." + +She laughed somewhat dubiously. "I knew you would think me horrid as soon +as you began to see more of me." + +He laughed also at that. "My dear, forgive me for saying so, but you are +absurd--too absurd to be taken seriously, even if you are serious--which +I doubt." + +"But I am," she asserted. "I am. I--I am nearly always serious." + +Mordaunt turned his head and looked at her with that in his eyes which +she alone ever saw there, before which instinctively, almost fearfully, +she veiled her own. + +"You--child!" he said again softly. + +And this time--perhaps because the words offered a way of escape of which +she was not sorry to avail herself--Chris did not seek to contradict him. +She pressed her cheek to Cinders' alert head, and said no more. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SECOND WARNING + + +Rupert's description of Kellerton Old Park, though unflattering, was not +far removed from the truth. The thistles in the drive that wound from the +deserted lodge to the house itself certainly were abnormally high, so +high that Mordaunt at once decided to abandon the car inside the great +wrought-iron gates that had been the pride of the place for many years. + +"That nice little donkey of yours would come in useful here," he +observed, as he handed his _fiancee_ to the ground. + +She tucked her hand engagingly inside his arm. "Ah! but isn't the park +lovely? And look at all those rabbits! No, no, Cinders! You mustn't! +Trevor, you do like it?" + +"I like it immensely," he answered. + +His eyes looked out over the wide, rough stretch of ground before him +that was more like common land than private property, dwelt upon a belt +of trees that crowned a distant rise, scanned the overgrown carriage-road +to where it ended before a grey turret that was half-hidden by a great +cedar, finally came back to the sparkling face by his side. + +"So this is to be our--home, Chris?" he said. + +"Isn't it beautiful?" she said proudly. "Oh, Trevor, you don't know what +it means to me to feel it isn't going to be sold after all." + +He smiled. "I understood it was going to be sold and presented to my wife +for a wedding-gift." + +She turned her face up to his. "Trevor, you don't think I'm ungrateful +too, do you?" + +"My darling," he said, "I think that gratitude between you and me is out +of place at any time. Remember, though I give you this and a thousand +other things, you are giving me--all you have." + +She pressed his arm shyly. "It doesn't seem very much, does it?" she +said. + +He laid his hand upon hers. "You can make it much," he said very gently. + +"How, Trevor?" + +"By marrying me," he said. + +"Oh!" Her eyes fell instantly, and he saw the hot colour rise and +overspread her face. "Oh, but not yet!" she said, almost imploringly. +"Please, not yet!" + +His own face changed a little, hardened almost imperceptibly, but he gave +no sign of impatience. "In your own time, dear," he said quietly. "Heaven +knows I should be the last to persuade you against your will." + +"Aunt Philippa is always worrying me about it," she told him, with a +catch in her voice. "And I--I--after all, I'm only twenty-one." + +"What does she worry you for?" he said, a hint of sternness in his voice. + +She glanced at him nervously. "Because--because I've no money. She +says--she says--" + +"Well, dear, what does she say?" + +"I don't want to tell you," whispered Chris. + +"I think you had better," he said. + +"Yes--I suppose so. She says that as I am bringing you nothing, I have no +right to--to keep you waiting--that beggars can't be choosers, and--and +things like that." + +"My dear Chris!" he said. "And you take things like that to heart!" + +"You see, they are true!" murmured Chris. + +"They are not true. But all the same"--he began to smile again--"I can't +for the life of me imagine why you won't marry me and get it over." + +"No?" Chris suddenly looked up again; she was clinging to his arm very +tightly with both hands. "It does seem rather silly, doesn't it?" she +said, with resolute eyes raised to his. "Trevor, I--I'll think about it." + +"Do!" he said. "Think about it quietly and sanely. And don't let yourself +get frightened at nothing. As you say, it's silly." + +"But you won't--press me?" she faltered. "You--you promised!" + +"I keep my promises, Chris," he said. + +But he was frowning slightly as he said it, and she was quick to note the +fact. "Ah! don't be vexed with me," she pleaded very earnestly. "I know +I'm foolish. I can't help it. It's the way I'm made." + +She was on the verge of tears, and at once his hand closed with a warm +and comforting pressure upon hers. "Chris! Chris! When will you learn not +to be afraid of me?" he said. "I am not vexed with you, child. I am only +wondering." + +"Wondering?" she said. + +"Wondering if I had better go away for a spell," he answered. + +"Go away!" she echoed blankly. + +"And give you time to know your own mind," he said. + +"Trevor!" She turned suddenly white, so white that he thought for an +instant that she was in physical pain; and then, feeling her clinging to +him, he understood. "Oh, no!" she said vehemently. "No, no! Trevor, you +won't? Say you won't! I--I couldn't bear that. Please, Trevor!" + +"My dear," he said, "I shall never go away while you want me. But the +question is, do you want me?" + +"I do!" she declared, almost passionately. "I do!" + +"You are quite sure?" He looked suddenly deep into her eyes, so suddenly +that she could not avoid the look. + +She quivered under it, but he did not release her. He searched her +upturned face closely, persistently, relentlessly, till, with a movement +of entreaty, she stretched up one hand and tremblingly covered his eyes. + +"I am--quite sure," she said in a whisper. "And I--I don't like you to +look at me like that." + +He stood still, suffering himself to be so blinded, till, gaining +confidence, she took her hand away. + +"You won't ask me again, please, Trevor?" she said. + +He smiled at her very kindly, but his voice, as he made answer, was +grave. "No, dear, I shall never ask you that again." + +She took his arm once more with evident relief. "Let us go up to the +house," she said. "I expect Max is there already, waiting for us." + +So they went up the weed-grown drive, and presently came into full sight +of the house. It was a large, rambling building of stone, some of it very +ancient, most of it covered with immense stacks of ivy. Another pair of +iron gates divided park from garden, and as they approached these a +lounging figure sauntered into view and came through to meet them. + +Chris uttered a squeak of delight, and sprang forward. "Max!" + +"Hullo!" said the new-comer. + +He was a thick-set youth, with heavy red brows and a somewhat offhand +demeanour. His eyes were green and very shrewd. They surveyed Mordaunt +with open criticism. He was smoking a very foul-smelling cigarette. + +Chris was very rosy. "Max," she said, "this is Trevor!" + +"Hullo!" said Max again. + +He extended a careless hand and gave his future brother-in-law a hard +grip. There was no particular friendliness in the action, it was +evidently his custom to grip hard. + +"Come to investigate your new abode?" he said. "Are you going to pull it +down?" + +"It is not my present intention," Mordaunt said. + +"Of course he isn't!" said Chris. "Don't be absurd, Max. It is going to +be made lovely inside and out, and we are all going to live here." + +"Are we?" said Max, with a sudden grin. "Who says so?" + +He glanced at Mordaunt with the words, and it was Mordaunt who answered +him-- + +"I hope you and your brothers will continue to look upon it as your home +until you have homes of your own." + +"Very rash of you!" commented Max, swinging round again to the gate. +"Well, come inside and see it." + +They went within, went from room to room of the old place, Max with the +air of a sardonic showman, Mordaunt gravely attentive to details, Chris +light-footed, eager with many ideas for its reformation. The mildewed +walls and partially dismantled rooms, with their moth-eaten furniture and +threadbare carpets, had no damping effect upon her spirits. She had a +boundless faith in her _fiance's_ power to transform her ancient home +into a palace of delight. + +"If you really mean to buy it as it stands, I should recommend you to +make a bonfire of the contents," said Max presently, as they stood all +together in the deep bay window of a room on the first floor that looked +out upon the park, with a glimpse beyond of distant hills. "But the place +itself is an absolute ruin. I can't imagine how you are going to patch it +up." + +"I think it can be done," Mordaunt said. He was staring out somewhat +absently, and spoke as if his thoughts were wandering. + +Both brother and sister glanced at him. Then, "When are you going to get +married?" asked Max. + +Mordaunt came out of his reverie. "That," he said deliberately, "has +still to be decided." + +"Who is going to decide? You or Chris?" Max lighted another cigarette and +pitched the match, still burning, from the window. + +"Oh, Max!" exclaimed Chris. "How dangerous! Look! There is Cinders +sniffing along the terrace! He is sure to burn his nose!" + +She was gone with the words, and Max, with a brief laugh, returned to the +charge. + +"I conclude the decision rests with her." + +"Well?" said Mordaunt. He spoke curtly; perhaps he resented the boy's +interference, or perhaps he had had enough of the subject for that day. + +"Look here," said Max. "I know Chris. She will keep you dangling for the +next ten years if you will put up with it. If you want to be married +soon, you will have to assert yourself." + +Mordaunt was silent. + +Max waited. Below them Chris flashed suddenly into view, darting with a +butterfly grace of movement to the rescue of her pet. + +Abruptly Mordaunt spoke. "I sometimes wonder if she is too young to be +married." + +"What?" Max removed his cigarette and stared at him. "She is as old as I +am!" + +Mordaunt looked back, faintly smiling. "Yes, I know. But--well, that's no +argument, is it?" + +"I suppose not. All the same"--Max leaned back nonchalantly against the +window-frame--"if you mean to wait till she grows up, you'll wait a +precious long time, and she will probably run away with another fellow +while you are thinking about it." + +Mordaunt clapped a restraining hand on his shoulder. "My friend," he +said, "I don't permit that sort of thing to be said of Chris." + +Maxwell's green eyes twinkled. "You don't, eh? That's rather decent of +you. But, you know, there is such a thing as being too trusting. And the +family of Wyndham are not conspicuously famous for their honourable +scruples. Now, Chris is as much a Wyndham as the rest of us, and--I'm +going to say it whether you like it or not, it's the truth also--she +is a deal more likely to keep out of mischief if she marries young. You +are no fool by the look of you. You know there is reason in what I say." + +"You have said enough," Mordaunt said, with a touch of sternness. + +"All right. The subject is closed. But--just tell me this. Do you--or do +you not--want to marry her before the summer is over?" + +"Why do you ask?" + +"Because I want to know." + +"Well"--Mordaunt's eyes studied him for a few seconds--"it is an +unnecessary question." + +"Because I know the answer?" questioned Max. + +"Exactly." + +"Very well." He straightened himself with a smile. "I think I can manage +that for you." + +"Wait!" Mordaunt said. "You mean well, but--I would rather you didn't +attempt it. I would rather that Chris were left to settle this matter for +herself." + +"So she will. I know what I'm about, bless your heart! Chris always asks +my advice and generally takes it. She will marry you all right before the +end of the season. You leave it to me." + +He turned from the window with the words, still smiling. "Give me five +minutes alone with her," he said. + +And Mordaunt, though more than half against his will, yielded the point, +and let him go. + +They lunched in the old oak-beamed dining-room--a meal presided over by +Max, who played the host with a half-mocking air, while Chris, still +eager upon the renovations, poured out plans, practicable and otherwise, +for her _fiance's_ consideration. + +"What a pity we have to get back!" she said regretfully when the time for +departure drew near. "I want to begin right away, Trevor. Why can't we +spend the night here? Wire to Aunt Philippa, Max. Say we are busy." + +Max grinned. "What says Trevor?" + +"Quite impossible," said Mordaunt, with a smile at her ardent face. +"There isn't a bed for you to sleep on." + +"I could sleep on the sofa with Cinders," she said. "We can sleep +anywhere." + +"They've slept on a heap of stones before now," remarked Max. + +"I'm sure we haven't!" She whisked round upon him with a suddenness that +was almost a challenge. "We haven't, Max!" she repeated. + +He stuck a cigarette into his mouth. "All right, my dear girl. My +mistake, no doubt. I thought you had." + +"Don't be absurd!" ordered Chris, colouring vividly "We never did +anything so--so disreputable." She twined her arm impulsively in +Mordaunt's. "Don't believe him, Trevor!" + +"I don't," he said, with his quiet eyes upon her upturned face. + +Max laughed aloud. "Why don't you tell him the joke, Chris?" + +"Because there isn't any joke, and you're very horrid," she returned with +spirit. "Trevor, let's go!" + +"I am ready," he said. + +"Very well, then." Chris turned round with relief in her face and hastily +tied her veil. "Please find Cinders, Max," she said. "And bring Trevor's +coat. It's in the billiard-room. I suppose we really must go back this +time, but you will bring me again, won't you, Trevor?" + +"As often as you care to come," he said. + +"Ah, yes! Only I'm so full of engagements just now. It's such a nuisance. +One can never get away." + +"What! Tired of London?" he said. + +"Oh no, not really. But I want to be here, too. I love this place. You +won't do anything in it without me, will you?" + +"Not without your approval, certainly," he promised. + +She turned back to him with her quick smile. "Trevor, thank you! I--I've +decided to marry you as soon as ever I can--as soon as Hilda comes back +from her honeymoon." + +He was smoking a cigarette. He took it from between his lips and dropped +it into an ash-tray. For a moment his face was turned from her. He seemed +to be watching the smouldering ash. Then, "Really, Chris?" he said, +looking down at her again. + +She was tugging at her gloves. She thrust her hand out to him. "Button +it, please!" she said, rather breathlessly, as if the exertion had +exhausted her somewhat. + +He took it, bent over it, suddenly pressed his lips to the soft wrist. + +"Oh, don't!" said Chris, and snatched it from him. + +When Max came back she was standing by the window, still fumbling at her +glove, with her back turned, while her _fiance_ leaned against the +mantelpiece, finishing his cigarette. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE COMPACT + + +Wearily Bertrand de Montville turned his head upon the sofa-cushion, and +opened his heavy eyes. He seemed to be listening for something, but +evidently he considered that he had listened in vain, for his eyelids +began to droop again almost immediately. He seemed to drift into a state +of semi-consciousness. + +The evening sunlight was screened from his face by blinds, but even so +its deep shadows were painfully distinct. He looked unutterably tired. + +There came a slight sound at the door, and again his eyes were open. In a +moment, with incredible briskness, he was off the couch and half-way +across the room before, seized with sudden dizziness, he began to falter. + +Trevor Mordaunt, entering, made a dive forward, and held him up. + +"Now, my friend, lie down again," he said, "and stay down till further +orders." + +"Ah, pardon me!" the Frenchman murmured, clutching vaguely for support. +"I am strong, more strong than you think. I--I--" + +"Lie down," Trevor reiterated. "You don't give yourself a chance, man. +You forget you have been a helpless invalid for the past ten days. There! +How's that? Comfortable?" + +"You are always so good--so good!" panted de Montville very earnestly. "I +know not how to thank you--how to repay." + +"Just obey orders, that's all," said the Englishman, faintly smiling. "I +want to get you well. No, you are not well yet--say what you like, you're +not. I've let you get up for an experiment, but if you don't behave +yourself back you go. Now lie still, quite still, while I open my +letters. When you have quite recovered your breath we will have a talk." + +He had assumed this tone of authority from the outset, and de Montville +had submitted, in the first place because he was too ill to do otherwise, +and later because, somewhat to his surprise, he found himself impelled +thereto by his own inclination. It did not in any fashion wound his +pride, this kindly mastery. He wondered at himself for tolerating it, and +yet he offered no resistance. It was too great a thing to resist. + +So, still panting a little, he subsided obediently upon Mordaunt's sofa +while the latter busied himself with his correspondence. + +There was a considerable pile of letters. Mordaunt opened one after +another with the deliberation that marked most of his actions, but the +pile dwindled very quickly notwithstanding. Some letters he dropped at +once into a waste-paper basket, upon others he scribbled a few notes; +two or three he laid aside for further consideration. + +The last of all he held in his hand for several seconds unopened. The +envelope was a large one and stiff, as if it contained cardboard. It was +directed in an irregular, childish scrawl. Mordaunt, sitting at his +writing-table, with his back to his guest, studied it gravely, +thoughtfully. Finally very quietly he broke the seal. + +There was a crackle of tissue-paper, and he drew out a photograph--the +photograph of a laughing girl with a diminutive terrier of doubtful +extraction clasped in her arms. Without any change of countenance he +studied this also. + +He laid it at last upon his table, and turned in his chair. "Have you had +anything to drink?" + +De Montville looked slightly disconcerted by the question. "But no!" he +said. "I have not--that is to say, I would not--" + +Mordaunt stretched a hand to the bell. "Holmes should have seen to it. +What do you drink? Afraid I can't offer you absinthe." + +"But I never drink it, monsieur." + +"No? Whisky and soda, then?" + +"What you will, monsieur." + +"Very well. Whisky and soda, Holmes, and be quick about it." Mordaunt +glanced at the clock, looked again at the photograph at his elbow, +finally rose. "I want a talk with you, M. de Montville," he said, "if you +feel up to it. Don't get up, please. There is no necessity." + +But de Montville apparently thought otherwise, for he drew himself to a +sitting position and faced his benefactor. + +"I also," he said, "have desired to talk with you since long." + +Mordaunt pulled up a chair. "Do you mind if I talk first?" he said. + +"But certainly, monsieur." With quick courtesy the Frenchman made reply. +His dark eyes were very intent. He fixed them upon the Englishman's face +and composed himself to listen. + +"It's just this," Mordaunt said. "I think we know each other well enough +to dispense with preliminaries, so I will come to the point at once. Now +you have probably realized by this time that I am a very busy man--have +been for several years past. In my profession there is not much time for +sitting still, nor, till lately, have I wanted it. But there comes a time +in most men's lives when they feel that they would like to get out of the +rash and enjoy a little leisure, take it easy--in short, settle down and +grow old in comfort." + +De Montville nodded several times with swift intelligence. "_Alors_, +monsieur contemplates marriage," he said. + +Mordaunt laughed a little. "Exactly, _mon ami_, and that speedily." + +He broke off at the entrance of his servant, and for the next few seconds +busied himself with the mixing of drinks. De Montville continued to watch +him with keen interest. As Mordaunt handed him his glass he clutched the +sofa-head and stood up. + +"I drink to your future happiness," he said, with a sudden smile and bow, +"and to the lady who will be so fortunate as to share it!" + +Mordaunt held out his hand. "Thank you. Much obliged. But sit down, my +dear fellow. I haven't quite finished what I want to say. And you are too +shaky to be bobbing up and down. I was just going to point out where you +come in." + +De Montville gripped his hand with all his strength. "I can serve you, +then? You have only to speak." + +But Mordaunt would not speak till he was recumbent again. Then very +quietly he came to the point. + +"The upshot of it is that I want a secretary to take things off my hands +a bit, and since I would rather have a pal than a stranger in that +capacity I am wondering if you will take on the job." + +"I!" Utter amazement sounded in de Montville's voice. He sat bolt upright +for a space of seconds, staring into the impassive British face before +him. "But you--you--joke!" he said at last, his voice very low. + +"No, I am quite in earnest." Gravely Mordaunt returned his look. "I +believe we might pull together very well. Think it over, M. de Montville, +and if you feel inclined to give it a trial--" + +"I wish that you would call me Bertrand," de Montville broke in +unexpectedly. "It would be more convenient. My name is known in England, +and--I do not like publicity. As for your--so generous--suggestion, +monsieur, I have no words. I am your debtor in all things. I know well +that it is of my welfare that you think. For myself I do not need to +consider for a moment. I would accept with joy and gratitude the most +profound. But, I ask you, are you altogether wise in thus reposing your +confidence in a man of whom you know nothing, except that he was tried +and condemned for an offence of which you had the goodness to believe him +innocent? I repeat, monsieur, are you altogether wise?" + +"From my own point of view--absolutely." Mordaunt spoke with a smile. He +held up his glass. "You accept, then?" + +"How could I do other than accept?" protested the Frenchman, with +outspread hands. + +"Then drink with me to the success of our alliance," said Mordaunt. "I +believe it will work very well." + +He prepared to drink, but de Montville made a swift movement to arrest +him. "But one moment! First, monsieur, you will give me your promise that +if in any manner I fail to satisfy you, you will at once inform me of +it?" + +Mordaunt paused, regarding him steadily. "Yes, I will promise you that," +he said. + +"Ah! Good! Then I drink with you, monsieur, to the success of our +compact. It will be my pleasure and privilege to serve you to the utmost +of my ability." + +He drank almost with reverence, and set down his glass with a hand that +trembled. + +Mordaunt got up. "That is settled, then. By the way, the question of +salary does not seem to have occurred to you. I don't know if you have +any ideas upon the subject. Four hundred pounds per annum is what I +thought of offering." + +"Four hundred pounds!" De Montville stared at him in amazement. "Four +hundred pounds!" he repeated, in rising agitation. "But no, monsieur! It +is too much! I will not--I cannot--take--even from you--a gift so great. +I--I--" + +He waxed unintelligible in his distress, and would have risen, but +Mordaunt's hand upon his shoulder kept him down. Mordaunt bent over him, +very quiet and friendly, very sure of himself and of the man he +addressed. + +"That's all right, _mon ami_. It is not too much. It's a perfectly +fair bargain, and--to please me if you like--I want you to accept it. +You will find there is plenty to do, possibly more than you anticipate. +So--suppose we consider it settled, eh?" + +De Montville was silent. + +"We'll call it done," Mordaunt said. "Have a cigarette!" + +He held his case in front of the Frenchman, and after a moment de +Montville took one. But he only balanced it in his fingers, still saying +nothing. + +"A light?" suggested Mordaunt. + +He made a jerky movement, and glanced up for an instant. "Mr. Mordaunt," +he said, speaking with evident difficulty, "what is--a pal?" + +"A pal," Mordaunt said, smiling slightly, "is a special kind of friend, +Bertrand--the best kind, the sort you open your heart to in trouble, the +sort that is always ready to stand by." + +"Such a friend as you have been to me?" questioned de Montville slowly. + +"Well, if you like to say so," Mordaunt said. "I almost think we might +call ourselves pals by this time. What say you?" + +"I, monsieur?" He reached up and grasped the hand that rested on his +shoulder. "For myself I ask no better," he said, in a voice that quivered +beyond control, "than to be to you what you have been to me. And I will +sooner die by my own hand than give you cause to regret your kindness." + +"Which you never will," Mordaunt said. "Come, light up, man! Here's a +match!" + +He held it up, and de Montville had perforce to place the cigarette +between his lips. His throat was working spasmodically, but with a +valiant effort he managed to inhale a mouthful of smoke. He choked over +it badly the next moment, however, and Mordaunt patted his back with much +goodwill till he was better. + +"There, my dear fellow, lie down now and take it easy. I'm dining out; +but Holmes has special orders to look after you; and if you are wanting +anything, in the name of common-sense ask for it." + +With that he turned from the sofa, took up the photograph that lay +upon his writing-table, hesitated an instant, then thrust it into his +breast-pocket, and strolled out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A CONFESSION + + +"So you don't like my photograph!" said Chris. + +"Why do you say that?" + +"I could see you didn't. What's the matter with it? Isn't it pretty +enough? It's just like me." + +"Yes, it's just like you," Mordaunt admitted. + +"Then you don't like me?" suggested Chris. + +He smiled at that. "Yes, I like you very much. But--" + +"Well?" said Chris, her deep-sea eyes full of eager curiosity. "Go on, +please!" + +"Well," he said, "that photograph is not one that I could show to my +friends." + +"But why not--if it's just like me?" + +He took her chin and turned her face gently to the light. "Try again," he +said, "without Cinders." + +"Without Cinders!" She stared at him mystified, then began to laugh. +"Trevor, I believe you are jealous of Cinders!" + +"Perhaps," he said. "Anyhow, I should prefer your portrait without him. +You look like a baby of six cuddling a toy." + +"I wonder what makes you so anxious to marry me," said Chris +unexpectedly. + +Mordaunt still smiled at her. "Strange, isn't it?" he said. + +"Yes, I can't understand it in the least." She shook her head with a +puzzled expression. "It's a pity you don't like that photograph. I'm sure +Cinders has come out beautifully. And he isn't a bit like a toy." + +"Yes, but I don't want Cinders." + +Chris looked at him with sudden misgiving. "But, Trevor, when--when we +are married--" + +"Oh, of course," he said at once. "I didn't mean that. I haven't the +smallest wish to part you from him. It's only his photograph I have no +use for." + +Her face cleared magically. "Dear Trevor, I quite understand. And I would +go and be done again to-morrow if I had the money, but I haven't." + +"Are you very hard up?" he asked. + +She nodded. "Horribly. I'm very extravagant, too--at least, Aunt Philippa +says so. I can't bear asking her for money. In fact, I--I--" + +She hesitated, avoiding his eyes. "Shall I tell you something, Trevor?" +she said in a whisper. "It's something I haven't told anyone else!" + +"Of course tell me!" He took her two hands into his, holding them up +against his heart. + +"Well--it's a secret, you know--I--I--" She raised her face in sudden +pleading. "Promise you won't be cross, Trevor." + +"I promise, dear," he answered gravely. + +"Well, I'm afraid it's rather bad of me. I haven't been paying for things +lately. I simply couldn't. London is a dreadful place for spending money, +isn't it? It's all quite little things, but they mount up shockingly. +And--and--Aunt Philippa is bound to give me some money presently for +my--my trousseau. So I thought--I thought--" She came nearer to him; she +laid her cheek coaxingly against his breast. "Trevor, you said you +wouldn't be cross." + +He put his hand on her bright hair. "I am not cross, dear. I am only +sorry." + +Chris was inclined to be a little tearful. She did not quite know what +had led her to tell him--it had been the impulse of a moment--but it was +a vast relief to feel he knew. + +"I'm not a very good manager, I'm afraid," she said. "But there are +certain things one must have, and they do add up so. I believe it's the +odd halfpennies and farthings that do it. Don't you ever find that?" + +"I can quite imagine it," he said. + +"Yes, they're so deceptive. I wonder why two-and-elevenpence +three-farthings sound so much less than three shillings. It's a snare and +a delusion. I don't think it ought to be allowed." She raised her head +with her April smile. "I'm very glad I told you, Trevor. You're very nice +about things. I was afraid you would be like Aunt Philippa, but you are +not in the least." + +"Thank you, Chris. Now I want to say something very serious to you. Will +you listen--and take it seriously?" + +She gave a little sigh. "I know exactly what it is." + +"No, you don't know." Mordaunt looked at her with eyes that were gravely +kind. "You are not to jump to conclusions where I am concerned," he said. +"You don't know me well enough. What I have to say is this. I can't have +you in difficulties for want of a little money. Those debts of yours must +be settled at once." + +"But, Trevor, Aunt Philippa--" + +"Never mind Aunt Philippa. It has nothing to do with her. It is a matter +between you and me. We will settle it without her assistance." + +"Oh, Trevor, but--" + +"There is no 'but,' Chris," he said, interrupting her almost sternly. "I +am nearer to you than your aunt. Tell me--as nearly as you can--what +those debts amount to." + +Chris was looking a little startled. "But I--I don't know," she said. + +"Well, find out and tell me." He smiled at her again. "It's all right, +dear. Don't be afraid of me. I know it's hard to keep within bounds when +there is a shortage of means. But I don't like debts. You won't run up +any more?" + +Chris still looked at him somewhat doubtfully. "I won't if I can help +it," she said. + +"You will be able to help it," he rejoined. + +"Yes, but, Trevor, please let me say it. I don't think you ought to--to +give me money before--before--Oh, do understand!" she broke off +helplessly. "You generally do." + +"I quite understand," he said, his hand on her shoulder. "But, my child, +I think, considering all things, that you need not let that scruple +trouble you. Since we are to be married in six weeks--" + +"In six weeks, Trevor!" Again that startled look that was almost one of +consternation. + +"In six weeks," he repeated, with quiet emphasis. "Your cousin will +probably be back from her honeymoon, and it will be the end of the +season. Since, then, our marriage is to take place in six weeks, and that +I shall then be responsible for you, I do not think you need be troubled +about letting me help you out of this difficulty now. No one will know of +it. It will set your mind at rest--and mine also." + +"Ah, but, Trevor--" Chris spoke somewhat breathlessly--she was rubbing +her hand nervously up and down his sleeve--"I'm not quite sure that--that +it will set my mind at rest. I'm not sure that--that I want you to do it, +or that I ought to let you even if I did, because, you see, because--" + +"Because--?" he said. + +She turned her head aside, avoiding his direct look. "Don't be angry, +will you? But just--just supposing something happened, and--and--and we +didn't get married after all?" + +She ended rather desperately, in an undertone. But for the quiet hand on +her shoulder she would have moved away from him; she might even have been +tempted to flee altogether. As it was, she stood still, trembling a +little, wondering if she had outrun his patience at last or if he had it +in him still to bear with her. + +He did not speak at once. She waited with a beating heart. + +"Well?" he said, and at the sound of his voice she thrilled with relief. +"It's as well to look all round a thing, I admit. We will consider that +supposition if you like. Say something happens to prevent our marriage. +What then? Is it to put an end to our friendship also?" + +She turned slightly towards him. "I might never be able to repay you," +she murmured. + +"I see. And that would trouble you--even though we remained friends?" + +She was silent. + +"It has always been a puzzle to me," he said, "why money--which is the +most ordinary thing in life--is the one thing that friends scruple to +accept from each other. Gifts of any other description, all sorts of +sacrifices, down to life itself, are offered and taken with no scruple of +pride. But when it comes to money, which is of very small value in +comparison, people begin to worry. Why, Chris, what are pounds, +shillings, and pence between you and me? Surely we have climbed above +that sort of thing, haven't we?" + +The tenderness of his tone moved her, in a fashion compelled her. She +went into his arms impulsively, she clung about his neck. Yet even then +her scruples were not quite laid to rest. + +"But--Trevor dear--just supposing we quarrelled? We might, you know, +about Cinders or anything. And then--and then--" + +"My dear," he said, "we certainly shall not quarrel about Cinders. I +can't for the life of me picture myself quarrelling with you under any +circumstances whatsoever. And even if we did, I don't think you would +hate me so badly as to grudge me the satisfaction of knowing that I had +been of use to you at an awkward moment. Don't you think we are getting +rather morbid, Chris?" + +"I don't know," she said, clinging closer. "I only know that you are +miles and miles too good for me. And whatever makes you want me I can't +think." + +He put his hand under her chin, and turned her face up to his own. +"I'll tell you another time. At the present moment I want to talk +about--getting married." + +He spoke the last two words very softly, holding her close lest she +should shrink away. + +But Chris, with her eyes on his, kept still and silent in his arms. Only +she turned rather white. + +He continued with the utmost gentleness. "Your cousin is going to be +married on the fifteenth of this month. Can't we arrange our wedding for +the fifteenth of next?" + +"The fifteenth!" said Chris. "Isn't that St. Swithin's Day?" + +She spoke so briskly that even Mordaunt was for the moment taken by +surprise. + +"St. Swithin's Day!" he echoed. "Well, what of it?" + +She broke into her gay laugh. "Oh, please not St. Swithin's Day! Just +imagine if it rained!" + +"Chris!" he said. "You're incorrigible!" + +His arms had slackened, and she drew away from him, breathing rather +quickly. + +"No, but really, wouldn't it be tragic? I shouldn't like a wet honeymoon, +should you? Hadn't we better wait till August? Or shall you be wanting to +go to Scotland?" + +"No," he said. "I am not going to Scotland this year." + +His eyes were still upon her, gravely watchful, but they expressed +nothing of impatience or exasperation. Very quietly he waited. + +"Shall we say August, then?" said Chris, in a small, shy voice, not +looking at him. + +"Will your aunt remain in town for August?" he asked. + +"But we are not obliged to be married in town," she pointed out. + +"Nor are we obliged to have a honeymoon, Chris," he said. "Shall we say +St. Swithin's Day, and forego the honeymoon--if it rains?" + +"Go straight home, you mean?" She turned back to him eagerly. "Oh, +Trevor, I should like that! I do want to superintend everything there. +Yes, let's do that, shall we? I always did think honeymoons were rather +silly, didn't you?" + +He smiled in spite of himself. "I daresay they are--from some points of +view. It is settled, then--St. Swithin's Day?" + +She nodded. "Yes. And we will go straight to Kellerton afterwards, and +work--like niggers. It won't matter a bit then whether it rains or not. +And Noel can spend his holidays with us and help. How busy we shall be!" + +She laughed up at him, all shining eyes and dimples. + +Again--in spite of himself--he laughed back, pinching her cheek. "Will +that please you, my little Chris?" + +"Oh, ever so!" said Chris. + +He stooped and lightly kissed her hair. "Then--so let it be!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A SURPRISE VISIT + + +It was raining--one of those sudden, pelting showers that descend from +June thunder-clouds, brief but drenching. It was also very dark, and +Bertrand had switched on the light. He was seated at Mordaunt's +writing-table, his black head bent over a pile of letters. The pen he +held moved busily, but not very quickly. He was writing with extreme +care. It was evident that he meant his first day's work to be a success. +He scarcely noticed the heavy downpour, being profoundly intent upon the +work he had in hand. Only at a sharp clap of thunder did he glance up +momentarily and shrug his shoulders. But he was at once immersed again in +his occupation, so deeply immersed that at the opening of the door he did +not turn his head. + +Holmes paused just inside the room. "If you please, sir--" + +"Ah, put it down, put it down!" said the Frenchman impatiently. "I am +busy." + +But Holmes, being empty-handed, did not comply with the request. He +remained hesitating, obviously doubtful, till with a sharp jerk de +Montville turned in his chair. + +"What is it, then? I have told you--I am busy." + +Holmes looked apologetic. He found the abrupt ways of the new secretary +somewhat disconcerting. "It's a young lady, sir," he explained rather +diffidently. "It's Miss Wyndham. She run in here for shelter, and, seeing +as Mr. Mordaunt be out, I didn't know whether you would wish me to show +her up or not, sir." + +Bertrand was on his feet in a moment. "A young lady! Miss Wyndham! Who +is--Miss Wyndham?" + +"It's the young lady as Mr. Mordaunt is a-going to marry," said Holmes, +dropping his voice confidentially. "I told her as Mr. Mordaunt weren't +in, and she said as she'd like to wait. Didn't know quite what to do, +sir. Would you like me to show her up?" + +"But certainly!" De Montville's eyebrows had gone up an inch, but he +lowered them hastily and smiled. Doubtless it was an English custom, +this; he must not display surprise. "Beg her to ascend," he said. "Mr. +Mordaunt may return at any moment. He would not wish his _fiancee_ to +remain below." + +"Very good, sir." Holmes withdrew, leaving the door ajar. + +Bertrand remained upon his feet, watching it expectantly. + +At the sound of voices on the stairs he smiled involuntarily. But how +they were droll--these English ladies! Would he ever accustom himself-- + +"Miss Wyndham, sir!" It was Holmes again, opening the door wide to usher +in the unexpected visitor. + +Bertrand bowed low. + +The visitor paused an instant on the threshold, then came briskly +forward. "Oh," she said, "are you the organ-grinder?" + +He straightened himself with a jerk; he looked at her. And suddenly a cry +rang through the room--a cry that came straight from a woman's heart, +inarticulate, thrilled through and through with a rapture beyond words. +And in a moment Bertrand de Montville, outcast and wanderer on the face +of the earth, had shed the bitter burden that weighed him down, had +leaped the dark dividing gulf that separated him from the dear land of +his dreams, and stood once more upon the sands of Valpre, with a girl's +hands fast clasped in his. + +"_Mignonne_!" he gasped hoarsely. "_Mignonne_!" And again "_Mignonne_!" + +Her answering voice had a break in it--a sound of unshed tears. +"Bertie--dear! Bertie--dear!" + +The door closed discreetly, and Holmes departed to his own premises. It +was no affair of his, he informed himself stolidly; but it was a rum go, +and he couldn't help wondering what the master would make of it. + +"But why wasn't I told?" said Chris, yet hovering between tears and +laughter. "They--Bertie--they said you were an organ-grinder!" + +He let her hands go, but his dark eyes still shone with the wonder and +the joy of the encounter. + +"Ah!" he said. "And they told me--they told me--that you were--" He +stopped abruptly with the dazed expression of a man suddenly hit in a +vital place. All the light went out of his face. He became silent. + +"Why--what is it?" said Chris. + +He did not answer at once, and in the pause that ensued he resumed his +burden, he re-crossed the gulf, and the sands of Valpre were left very, +very far away. + +In the pause also she saw him as he was--a man broken before his prime, +haggard and tired and old, with the fire of his genius quenched for ever +in the bitter waters of adversity. + +With an effort he spoke. "It is nothing, _cherie_. You are the same. But +with me--all is changed." + +"Changed, Bertie? But how?" + +He looked at her. His eyes dwelt upon the vivid, happy face, but all the +spontaneous gladness had died out of his own; it held only an infinite +melancholy. + +"He--Mr. Mordaunt--has not told you?" + +"No one has told me anything," she said. "What is it, Bertie? Have things +gone wrong with you? Tell me! Was it--was it the gun?" + +He bent his head. + +"Oh, but I'm so sorry," she said. "Was it a failure, after all?" + +She drew near to him. She laid a sympathetic hand upon his arm. + +A sharp tremor went through him. He stooped very low and kissed it. "It +was--worse than that," he said, his voice choked, barely audible. "It +was--it was--dishonour." + +"Dishonour!" She echoed the word, uncomprehending, unbelieving. + +He remained bent over her hand. She could not see his face. "Have you +never heard," he said, "of ex-Lieutenant de Montville--the man whom all +France execrated three years ago as a traitor?" + +"Yes," said Chris. "I've heard of him, of course. But"--doubtfully--"I +don't read the papers much. I didn't know what he was supposed to have +done. I only knew that everyone in England said he hadn't." + +The Frenchman sighed heavily. "The people in England did not know," he +said. + +"No? Then you think he was guilty?" + +He stood up sharply and faced her. "I know that he was innocent," he +said. "But it could not be proved. That is what the English could never +realize. And--_cherie_--I was that man. I was Lieutenant de Montville." + +Chris was gazing at him in amazement. "You!" she said incredulously. + +"I," he said. "They accused me of treason. They thought that I would sell +my own gun--my own gun. They sent me to prison--_mon Dieu_! I know not +how I survived. I suffered until it seemed that I could suffer no more. +And then they gave me my liberty--they banished me from France. I came to +England--and I starved." + +"You starved, Bertie!" Her blue eyes widened with horrified pity. "You!" +she said. "You!" + +He smiled with wistful humour. "Men more worthy than I have done the +same," he said. + +"Oh, but you, my own _preux chevalier_!" Chris's voice trembled upon the +words. + +He made a quick, restraining gesture. "But no--not that!" he said. "Your +friend always, _petite_, but your _preux chevalier_--never again!" + +Chris smiled, with quivering lips. "You will never be anything but my +_preux chevalier_ so long as you live," she said. "Oh, Bertie, I'm so +distressed--so grieved--to think of all you have had to bear. I never +dreamt of its being you. You know, I never heard your name. We went +away so suddenly from Valpre. I had no time to think of anything. I--I +was very miserable--afterwards." Her voice sank; her eyes were full of +tears. "I knew you would think I had forgotten, but indeed, indeed it +wasn't that!" + +"Ah, _pauvre petite_!" he said gently. + +"And you didn't know my name either, did you?" she said. "I kept telling +myself you would find out somehow and write--but you never did." + +He spread out his hands. "But what could I do? Your name was not known. +And I--I could not leave Valpre to seek you. My duties kept me at the +fortress. And so--and so--I said that I would wait until my fortune was +well assured, and then--then--" He stopped. "But that is past," he said, +with an odd little smile that somehow cut her to the heart. "_Et +maintenant_ tell me of yourself, _petite_, of all your affairs. Much may +arrive in four years. But first--you are happy, yes?" + +Eagerly the dark eyes sought hers as he asked the question. + +Chris looked back at him with a little frown. "Yes, I am happy, Bertie. +At least--I should be happy--if it weren't for thinking of you. Oh, +Bertie, that horrid gun! I always hated it!" + +Again her voice quivered on the verge of tears, and again with a quick +gesture he stayed her. + +"We will speak of it no more," he said. "See! We turn another page in the +book of life, and we commence again. Let us remember only, Christine, +that we are good comrades, you and I. But it is a good thing, this +_camaraderie_. It gives us pleasure, yes?" + +She gave him her hands impulsively. "Bertie!" she cried. "We shall always +be pals--always--all our lives; but don't--dear, don't smile at me like +that! I can't bear it!" + +He held her hands very tightly; he had wholly ceased to smile. But still +gallantly he shielded her from the danger she had not begun to see. He +did it instinctively, because of the love he bore her, and because of the +innocence in her eyes. + +"But what is it?" he said. "It is necessary that we smile sometimes, +_cherie,_ since to weep is futile, and laughter is always more precious +than tears. Ah! that is better. You smile yourself. It is always thus +that I remember my little friend of Valpre. She was ever too brave for +tears." + +He pressed her hands encouragingly, and again he let them go. But the +strain was telling upon him. There was one subject which he could not +trust himself to broach. + +And for some reason Chris could not broach it either. She took refuge in +every-day affairs; she told him of the giddy doings that kept her +occupied from morning till night, of Cinders (the mention of whose name +kindled a reminiscent gleam in the Frenchman's eyes), of the coming +birthday dance, which he must promise to attend. + +He shook his head over that; such gaieties were not for him. But Chris +pressed the point with much persistence. Of course he must come. It would +be no fun without him. Did he remember that birthday picnic at Valpre, +and--and the night they had passed in the Magic Cave? She spoke of it +with heightened colour and a hint of defiance which was plainly not +directed against him. + +"And I was afraid of the dragon," she said. "And you held my hand. I +remember it so well. And afterwards I went to sleep, and slept all night +long with my head on your shoulder." + +"You were but a child," he said softly. + +"But it seems like yesterday," she answered. + +And then it was that the door opened very quietly, and Trevor Mordaunt +came in upon them, sitting together in the gloom. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE EXPLANATION + + +There was nothing hurried in his entrance, nothing startling; but yet a +sudden silence fell. + +Out of it almost immediately came Bertrand's voice. "Ah, Mr. +Mordaunt, you return to find a visitor. Miss--Wyndham is here. She +came to seek you, but she found only--" he spread out his hands +characteristically--"the organ-grinder." + +He had risen with the words; so also had Chris. She went forward, but +without her usual impetuosity. + +"I have found an old friend, Trevor," she said, speaking quickly, as if +embarrassed. "I have known Mr.--Mr.--what did you say your name was?" +turning towards him again. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "I am called Bertrand, mademoiselle." + +She smiled in her quick way. "I have known--Bertrand--for years. At +least, we used to know each other years ago, and--and we knew each other +again the moment we met. It was a great surprise to me--to us both." + +"And a great pleasure," said Bertrand, with a bow. + +"An immense pleasure," said Chris, with enthusiasm. + +"But, my dear girl," Mordaunt said, his quiet voice falling almost coldly +upon their explanations, "what on earth made you come here of all +places?" + +"Oh," said Chris, leaping to this new point almost with relief, "it was +raining, and thundering too. I hadn't an umbrella and I knew I should be +drenched, and this was the nearest shelter I could think of, so I just +came. It seemed the most sensible thing to do. I thought perhaps you +would be pleased to see me. I even fancied you might give me tea." + +There was a faint note of wistfulness in her voice though she was +smiling. She stood before him with something of the air of a culprit. + +"Of course Aunt Philippa wouldn't approve," she said. "I know that. +But--you always say you are not like Aunt Philippa, Trevor." + +He took her hand very gently but with evident purpose into his own. + +"I will give you tea with pleasure," he said, "but not here. Holmes shall +call a taxi. I am afraid you must say good-bye to your friend now, +unless--" he paused momentarily--"unless, Bertrand, you care to accompany +us." + +"Oh do, Bertie!" she said eagerly. "I want you. Please come!" + +But Bertrand's refusal was instant and final. + +"It is impossible," he declared. "I thank you a thousand times, but I +have yet many letters to write, and the post will not wait." + +"Letters?" said Chris curiously. + +"M. Bertrand is my secretary," said Mordaunt quietly. + +"Oh, is he? And you never told me! But what a splendid idea!" Chris stood +between the two men, flushed, eager, charming. "I'm so glad, Bertie," she +said impulsively. "You may think yourself very lucky. Mr. Mordaunt is +quite the nicest man in the world." + +Bertrand bowed low. "I believe it," he said simply. + +"Then we shall see quite a lot of each other," went on Chris. "That will +be great fun--just like old times. Oh, must I really go? I don't want to +at all, and nothing will make me sorry that I came." She threw a gay +smile at her _fiance_, and withdrew her hand to give it to the friend of +her childhood. "_Au revoir, preux chevalier_! You will come to my +birthday party? Promise!" Then, as he still shook his head: "Trevor, if +you don't bring him, I shall come all by myself and fetch him." + +"No, you mustn't do that," Mordaunt answered with decision. + +"Then will you bring him?" + +"I will do my best," he promised gravely. + +"Will you really? Oh, thank you, Trevor. I shall expect you then, Bertie. +Good-bye!" + +Her hand lay for a couple of seconds in his, and he bent low over it, but +he did not speak in answer. + +She went out of the room with the silent Englishman. He heard her +laughing as they went downstairs. He heard her gay young voice a while +longer in the hall below. Then came the throb of a motor and the closing +of the street door. She was gone. + +He stood quite motionless, listening to the taxi as it whirred away. And +even after he ceased to hear it he did not move. He was gazing straight +before him, and his eyes were the eyes of a man in a dream. They saw +naught. + +Stiffly at last he moved, and something like a shudder went through him. +He crossed the room heavily, with the gait of one stricken suddenly old. +He sat down again at the writing-table, and took up the pen that he had +dropped--how long ago! + +He even wrote a few words slowly, laboriously, still with that fixed look +in his eyes. Then quite suddenly he was assailed by a violent tremor. He +pushed back his chair with a sharp exclamation, half-rose, then as +swiftly flung himself forward and lay across the table, face downwards, +gasping horribly, almost choking. His hands were clenched, and hammered +upon the papers littered there. The pen rolled unheeded over the polished +wood and fell upon the floor. + +Seconds passed into minutes. Gradually the bony fists ceased their +convulsive tattoo. The laboured breathing grew less agonized. The man's +rigid pose relaxed. But still he lay with his arms outspread and his head +bowed between them, a silent image of despair. + +Slowly the minutes crawled by. Down in the street below a newsboy was +yelling unintelligibly, and in the distance a barrel-organ jangled the +latest music-hall craze; but he was deep, deep in an abyss of suffering, +very far below the surface of things. There was something almost boyishly +forlorn in his attitude. With his face hidden, he looked pathetically +young. + +The sound of the opening door recalled him at last, and he started +upright. It was Holmes with the evening paper. + +The man spied the pen upon the floor and stooped for it. Bertrand +stretched out a quivering hand, took it from him, and made as if he would +resume his writing. But the pen only wandered aimlessly over the paper, +and in a moment fell again from his nerveless fingers. + +Holmes paused. Bertrand sat with his head on his hand as if unaware of +him. + +"Can I get you anything, sir?" he ventured. + +Bertrand made a slight movement. "If I might have--a little brandy," he +said, speaking with obvious effort. + +"Brandy? I'll get it at once, sir," said Holmes, and was gone with the +words. + +Returning, he found Bertrand so far master of himself as to force a +smile, but his face was ghastly. There was a blue, pinched look about his +mouth that Holmes, reminiscent of his hospital days, did not like. He had +seen that look before. + +But the first taste of spirit dispelled it. Very courteously Bertrand +thanked him. + +"You are a good man, Holmes. And I think that you are my friend, yes?" + +"Very pleased to do anything I can for you, sir," said Holmes. + +"Ah! Then I will ask of you one little thing. It is that you remember +that this weakness--this malady of a moment--remain a secret between us +two--between--us--two. _Vous comprenez; non_?" + +His eyes, very bright and searching, looked with a certain peremptoriness +into the man's face, and Holmes, accustomed to obey, made instinctive +response. + +"You mean as I am not to mention it to Mr. Mordaunt, sir?" + +"That is what I mean, Holmes." + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes. "You're feeling better, I hope, sir?" + +Very slowly de Montville rose to his feet, and stood, holding to the back +of his chair. + +"I am--quite well," he said impressively. + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes again, and withdrew, shaking his head +dubiously as soon as he was out of the Frenchman's sight. + +As for de Montville, he went slowly across to the window and, leaning +against the sash, gazed down upon the empty street. + +Not until he heard Mordaunt's step outside more than half an hour later +did he move, and then very abruptly he returned to the writing-table and +seized the pen anew. He was writing with feverish rapidity when Mordaunt +entered. + +Very quietly Mordaunt came up and looked over his shoulder. "My boy," he +said, "I am very sorry, but that is not legible." + +His tone was unreservedly kind, and Bertrand jerked up his head as if +surprised. + +He surveyed the page before him with pursed lips, then flashed a quick +look into Mordaunt's face. + +"It is true," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "I also am sorry." + +"Leave it," Mordaunt said. "You are looking fagged, Yes, I mean it. It +will keep." + +"But I have done nothing!" Bertrand protested, with outspread hands. + +"No? Well, I don't believe you ought to be doing anything at present. +Come and sit down." Then, peremptorily, as Bertrand hesitated: "I won't +have you overworking yourself. Understand that! I have had trouble +enough to get you off the sick list as it is." + +He spoke with that faint smile of his that placed most men at their ease +with him. Bertrand turned impulsively and grasped his hand. + +"You have been--you are--more than a brother to me, monsieur," he said, +with feeling. "And I--I--ah! Permit me to tell you--I--am glad that +Mademoiselle has placed herself in your keeping. It was a great surprise, +yes. But I am glad--from my heart. She will be safe--and happy--with +you." + +He spoke with great earnestness; his sincerity was shining in his eyes. +Mordaunt, looking straight down into them, saw no other emotion than +sheer friendliness, a friendliness that touched him, coming from one who +was so nearly friendless. + +"I shall do my best to make her so," he made grave reply. "She has been +telling me about you, Bertrand." + +"Ah!" The Frenchman's eyes interrogated him for a moment and instantly +fell away. "I am surprised," he said, "to be remembered after so long. +No, I had not forgotten her; but that is different, _n'est-ce pas_? I +think that no one would easily forget her." He smiled as though +involuntarily at some reminiscence. "_Christine et le bon Cinders_!" he +said in his soft voice. "We were all friends together. We were--" again +his eyes darted up to meet the Englishman's level scrutiny--"what you +call 'pals,' monsieur." + +Mordaunt smiled. "So I gathered. It happened at Valpre, I understand." + +Bertrand nodded. His eyes grew dreamy, grew remote. "Yes," he said +slowly, "it happened at Valpre. The little one was lonely. We made games +in the sand. We chased the crabs; we explored the caves; we played +together--as children." He stifled a sudden sigh, and rose. "_Eh bien_," +he said, "we cannot be children for ever. We grow up--some quick--some +slow--but all grow up at last." + +He broke off, and took up the evening paper to cut the leaves. + +Mordaunt watched him in silence--a silence through which in some fashion +he conveyed his sympathy; for after a moment Bertrand spoke again, still +dexterously occupied with his task. + +"Ah! you understand," he said. "I have no need to explain to you that +this meeting with my little friend who belonged to the happy days that +are past has given me almost as much of pain as of pleasure. I do not try +to explain--because you understand." + +"You will get over it, my dear fellow," Mordaunt said, with quiet +conviction. + +"You think it?" Bertrand glanced up momentarily. + +"I do," Mordaunt answered, with a very kindly smile. "In fact, I think, +with all due respect to you, that you are younger than you feel." + +"Ah!" There was not much conviction in Bertrand's response. He +stood up and handed the paper to Mordaunt with a quick bow. "But--all +the same--you understand?" he questioned, with a touch of anxiety. + +"Of course I understand," Mordaunt answered gently. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BIRTHDAY PARTY + + +"At last!" said Chris. + +It was her birthday party, and she stood at the head of the stairs by her +aunt's side, receiving her guests. + +Very young she looked, a child still, despite her twenty-one years, and +supremely happy. Her aunt, one of those ladies whose very smile is in +itself an act of condescension, was treating her with unusual +graciousness that night, and there was not a star awry in Chris's +firmament. + +She had just caught a glimpse of her _fiance_ in the crowd below her, and +a hasty second glance had shown her that he was not unaccompanied. A +slight man, olive-skinned, with a very small, black moustache and quick +eyes that searched upwards restlessly, was ascending the stairs with him. +In the instant that she looked those eyes found her, and flashed their +quick recognition. + +Chris waved her fan in eager greeting. "Ah, there he is!" she cried +aloud. + +"My dear child!" said Aunt Philippa. + +Impetuously Chris turned to her. "He is a friend of mine, and Trevor's +secretary. I told Trevor to bring him. He is French, and his name is +Bertrand." + +Her cheeks were flushed with excitement as she made this hasty +explanation. She had purposely left it till a crowded moment, for Aunt +Philippa was apt to be very searching in her inquiries, and Chris shrank +at all times from being catechized by this somewhat formidable relative +of hers. + +"Trevor knows all about him; they are friends," she added, in response to +a slight drawing of the brows, with which she was tragically well +acquainted. + +"All?" murmured Max in her ear from her other side, with a mischievous +twinkle in his green eyes. + +Chris ignored him, but she turned a vivid crimson, and the hand she +stretched to Mordaunt was quivering with agitation. But in his quiet +grasp it became still. She looked up into his eyes and smiled a welcome +with recovered self-possession. + +"Oh, Trevor, here you are! And you've brought Bertie as you promised." +She gave her other hand to Bertrand with the words, but she did not speak +to him--she went on talking to her _fiance_. "I've had a tremendous day, +and thank you a million times for--you know what. It's a good thing you +booked your dances beforehand, for I haven't any left." + +"Not one for me?" murmured Bertrand, as he bent over her hand. + +She turned to him with a radiant smile. "Yes, yes, of course! Should I be +likely to forget all old pal like you? Trevor, will you introduce him to +Aunt Philippa?" + +"My friend Mr. Bertrand," said Mordaunt promptly. + +Mrs. Forest acknowledged the introduction with extreme chilliness. She +strongly disapproved of Chris's faculty for developing unexpected +friendships. The child was so regrettably free-and-easy in all her ways. +Of course, if Trevor Mordaunt approved of their intimacy, and apparently +he did, there was nothing to be said, but she herself could not regard it +with favour. Once more she congratulated herself that her +responsibilities where Chris was concerned were nearly at an end. + +But if her greeting were cold, Bertrand scarcely had time to remark it, +for his attention was instantly diverted by the red-haired youth who +lounged behind her. Max, whose presence had been annoying his aunt all +day, thrust out a welcoming hand to the new-comer. + +"Hullo!" he said. "You, is it?" + +Bertrand raised his brows. He gave his hand, after an instant's +hesitation, with a non-committing, "Myself--yes." + +Max drew him aside out of the crowd. "It's all right. I'm Chris's +brother, and I shan't give you away. But how long do you expect to remain +incog., I wonder? I knew your face the moment I saw you on the stairs." + +"You know me?" said Bertrand, drawing back a little. + +"Of course I know you. Who could help it? Your face is one of the best +known in Europe. So you are the hero that Chris used to worship at +Valpre! She mentioned the one fact to me, but not the other. She knows, I +suppose?" + +"Ah, yes, but it is a secret." Bertrand spoke wearily, as if reluctant to +discuss the matter. "It is not my desire to be recognized. She knows that +also." + +"I never knew Chris could keep a secret before," commented Max. + +A quick gleam shot up in the Frenchman's eyes. "Then you do not know her +very well," he said. + +Max smiled shrewdly, but did not contest the point. He seldom argued, and +Chris herself at this moment intervened. + +"Bertie, I've saved the supper extras for you. Don't forget. Max, you +know most of the people here. Do introduce him, or find Jack--he will. +I'm dancing the first with Trevor. Good-bye!" + +She flashed her smile upon him, and was gone. Bertrand stood and watched +her as she went away through the throng with Trevor Mordaunt. Everyone +watched her, and nearly everyone smiled. She was so naively, so sublimely +happy. + +Her gay young laugh rang out as they began to dance. "Isn't it fun?" she +said; and then, with her eyes turned to his, "Trevor, I've such a crowd +of things to thank you for that I don't know where to begin." + +"Then, my dear child, don't begin!" he said, with his indulgent smile. + +She frowned at him. "You are not to call me 'child' any longer. I'm +grown-up." + +His smile remained. "Since when?" he said. + +"That's a rude question which I am not going to answer. But, Trevor, +you--you shouldn't have sent me all that money. It's much more than I +want." + +"I'm glad to hear it," he said; and, after a moment, "I hope you will +spend it profitably." + +"Oh, yes." Eagerly she made reply. "I've bought a new collar for +Cinders--such a beauty, with bells! I thought it would be so useful if he +went rabbiting." + +"What! To warn the rabbits?" + +"Oh, no! I never thought of that! Poor Cinders! It would spoil his sport, +wouldn't it? And he's such a sportsman. I suppose I shall have to keep it +for Sundays after all. What a pity! I thought it would help us to find +him if he got lost." + +"But he always turns up again," said Mordaunt consolingly. + +Her blue eyes flashed their sunshine. "Yes, yes, of course. And another +thing I did which ought to please you very much." + +The indulgence turned to approval on Mordaunt's face. "I can guess what +that was," he said. + +"Can you?" Chris looked delighted. "Well, you mustn't tell Aunt Philippa, +because she would call it shocking extravagance, and I really only did it +to please you." + +"Oh! Then I am afraid I haven't guessed right." Mordaunt's expression +became one of grave doubt. + +Chris laughed aloud. "You will have to guess again. No, please go on +dancing. One only gets hotter standing still." + +"But, Chris," he said, "I want to know." + +His tone was perfectly kind, as gentle as it always was when he addressed +her, and yet the quick glance that she threw him was not without a hint +of misgiving. The slender young body stiffened ever so slightly against +his arm. + +"I wonder if Bertie has found a partner," she said. "Do you think we +ought to go and see?" + +He guided her towards the entrance. A good many people were standing +about, and one after another accosted Chris. She answered blithely +enough, her hand still upon her _fiance's_ arm, but yet there was that +about her that made him aware that she was not wholly at her ease. When +he drew her towards a room beyond that led to a conservatory, she hung +back. + +"I want to find Bertie. Where is he?" + +Jack Forest appeared at that moment, and she turned to him with evident +relief. "Oh, Jack, where is Mr. Bertrand? I told Max to hand him over to +you. He knows no one, and I do want him to have a good time." + +"Be easy, my child," said Jack, with a cheery grin. "He is having the +time of his life. The mater has taken him under her wing." + +"Jack!" Chris stood aghast. + +"Don't agitate yourself," said Jack. "It's all serene. He is thoroughly +enjoying himself. Where are you two off to? Going to sit out in the dark? +Shall I come and mount guard?" + +"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" protested Chris. "Jack, remember our dance is +the next." + +Jack bowed with his hand on his heart. "I don't forget such things. Make +the most of your time, Trevor. It's nearly up." + +He departed with a careless swagger, and Chris turned to her quiet +companion and gave a little shiver. "Why did we leave off dancing? I'm +cold." + +He led her across the hall to a settee. Someone had thrown a scarf upon +it. He put it round her shoulders. + +"It isn't mine," she said, "and it isn't that sort of cold either. I hope +Aunt Philippa isn't teasing Bertie. Do you think she is?" + +"I think he can take care of himself," Mordaunt said. + +"Do you? I don't. Aunt Philippa is sure to say horrid things to him. I +think we ought to go and find them--really." + +There was a note of pleading in her voice, but Mordaunt did not respond +to it. He sat and contemplated her, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. + +He leaned forward at last and spoke very quietly. "Chris," he said, +"forgive me for asking, but--you have paid your debts?" + +The colour surged up all over her fair face. She began to pluck +restlessly at her fan. But she said no word. Only as he took it gravely +from her, she glanced up as though compelled, and for a single instant +sheer panic looked at him out of her eyes. + +"My dear," he said, "will you attend to the matter to-morrow?" + +But still she was silent, quiveringly, piteously silent. The colour had +gone out of her face now; she was as white as the dress she wore. + +"You will?" he said gently. + +She made a little sound that was like a repressed sob, and put her hand +sharply to her throat. + +"You will?" he said again. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +He dismissed the matter instantly, opened the fan he had taken from her, +and began to admire it. + +"Jack gave it to me," she said. "It's a birthday present. He always gives +me nice things. So do you, Trevor. Your pendant is the loveliest thing I +have ever seen." + +He had sent her a pendant of turquoise and pearl, and it hung upon her +neck at the moment. She fingered it lovingly. + +"I shall go to bed in it," she said, "so as to have it all night long. It +feels so delicious. I wish I could see it. It was the very thing I saw in +Bond Street a few weeks ago, and wanted to wear at Hilda's wedding." She +broke off with a sudden sigh. "It will be horrid when Hilda's married." + +"Will it?" he said. + +"Yes, horrid," she repeated with vehemence. "Aunt Philippa is going to +turn all her attention to me then. Of course, I know she is very kind, +but--well, I feel as if this is my last week of freedom. I shall be +almost glad when--" She broke off abruptly. "Do let us go and rescue +Bertie," she said, "before we get swallowed up in the crowd." + +He got up at once and silently offered his arm. She slipped her hand +within it, and gave it a little squeeze. + +"We'll dance to the _finale_ next time," she said lightly. "It's much +more fun than talking." + +She added carelessly, as they moved away together: "By the way, I had my +photograph taken this morning. I don't know if you will like it. Shall I +send you one?" + +"Do," he said. And after a moment, smiling faintly: "Was that the thing +that was to please me?" + +She nodded, not looking at him. + +He laid his hand for an instant upon hers. "Thank you, Chris," he said. + +She turned instantly and smiled upon him. "You can give it to Bertie if +you don't like it," she made blithe response. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +PALS + + +"Ah! now for a good talk," said Chris. "We have got at least half an +hour. Are you tired, Bertie, or only bored?" + +But he was neither, he assured her. He had enjoyed his evening greatly. +No, he had not danced. He had found it enough diverting to look on +tranquilly in a corner. _Mais oui_, everybody had been most kind, +including his hostess, to whom he paid a special tribute of appreciation. +He had found her as gracious as she was beautiful. + +"Did she try to pump you?" asked Chris. + +He raised his brows in humorous bewilderment. But to pump--what was it? +To ask questions? Ah yes, she had asked him several questions. He had not +answered all of them. He feared she had found him a little stupid. But +she had been very patient with him, ah! so patient--he spread out his +hands, with the old, quick smile, and Chris's peal of laughter echoed far +and wide. + +"Bertie, you're too heavenly for words! Then she didn't find out about +Valpre? She thinks--I suppose she thinks--that Trevor introduced us to +each other." + +"I do not know what she thinks," the Frenchman made answer. "But no, we +did not speak of Valpre! That is a secret, _hein_?" + +"Not exactly a secret. I told Max. But Aunt Philippa--oh, she is so +different. She never understands things," said Chris. "I daresay she will +find out from Trevor as it is; but I hope she won't--I do hope she +won't!" + +He smiled comprehendingly. "But Mr. Mordaunt--he understands, yes?" he +said. + +She hesitated. "I never told even him about that night in the Magic Cave, +Bertie." + +"No?" he said, his quick eyes upon her. "But why not?" + +She shook her head with vehemence. "I couldn't. Everyone--even Jack--made +such a fuss at the time--as if--as if"--she turned crimson--"I had done +something really wicked. I'm sure I don't know why. I always said so." + +There was defiance as well as distress in her voice. Bertrand leaned a +little towards her. + +"Mr. Mordaunt would not think like that," he said, with conviction. + +She looked at him dubiously. "I'm not so sure. He has extraordinary views +on some things. I never quite know how he will take anything. Other +people are the same. You are the only person I am quite sure of." + +He smiled, but not as if greatly elated. "That is because we are pals," +he said. + +"Yes, I know. It's good to have a pal who understands." Chris spoke a +little wistfully, but almost instantly dismissed the matter. "Why, I am +forgetting! You haven't seen Cinders yet, and I told him you were coming. +He is upstairs. Shall we go and find him?" + +They went up together. Half-way up she slipped her hand into his, with a +soft little laugh. "It's like old times, Bertie. Don't break the spell, +_preux chevalier_. Let us pretend--just for to-night!" + +They found Cinders imprisoned in a little sitting-room at the top of the +house which Chris shared with her cousin. His greeting of Bertrand was +effusive, even rapturous. Like his mistress, he never forgot a friend. + +Afterwards they sat and talked of many things, chiefly connected with +Valpre. There was so much to remember--Mademoiselle Gautier and her +queer, conventual prejudices, Manon, the maid-of-all-work, and her funny +stories of the shore. + +"She quite believed in the spell," Chris said. "She almost frightened me +with it." + +"Without doubt there was a spell," said Bertrand gravely. + +"You really think so? I never believed in it after that night." + +"No?" he said. "And yet it was there." + +Chris peered at him. "You talk as if it were something quite +substantial," she said. + +"It was substantial," he made answer, and then with a sudden smile into +her wondering eyes: "As substantial, _cherie_, as my rope of sand that +was to make my work endure like--like the Sphinx and Cleopatra's Needle +and--and--" He broke off with his eloquent shrug, paused a moment, +then--"and--our friendship, if you will," he ended. + +"Ah, fancy your remembering that!" she said. "But I believe you remember +everything." + +"That is the spell," he said. + +"Is it, Bertie? And do you remember the duel, and how you wouldn't tell +me what it was all about? Tell me now!" she begged, as a child pleading +for a story. "I always wanted to know." + +But his face darkened instantly. "Not that, _petite_. He was bad. He was +_scelerat_. We will not speak of him." + +"But, Bertie, I'm grown-up now. I'm quite old enough to know," she urged, +with a coaxing hand upon his arm. + +He took the hand, turned it upwards, stroked the soft palm very +reverently. "I pray that you will never be old enough, Chris," he said, +and in the shaded lamplight she saw that his face had grown suddenly +melancholy, almost haggard. "The knowledge of evil is a poisonous thing. +Those who find it can never be young again." + +His manner awed her a little. She did not pursue the point with her +customary persistence. "Well, tell me what happened afterwards," she +said. "He got well again?" + +"Yes, _petite_." + +"And--you forgave each other?" + +"Never!" Bertrand raised his head and shot out the word with emphasis. + +"Never, Bertie?" Chris looked at him, slightly startled. + +He looked back at her, faintly smiling, but with the melancholy still in +his eyes. "Never," he repeated. "That shocks you, no?" + +"Not really," she said loyally. "I'm sure he was horrid. He looked it. +Then--you are enemies still?" + +"Enemies?" He shrugged his shoulders. "No, I think he would not consider +me as an enemy now." + +"And yet you never forgave him?" + +"No, never." Again his denial was emphatic. After a moment, seeing her +bewilderment, he proceeded to explain. "If he had apologized, if he had +retracted the insult, then it is possible that a reconciliation might +have been effected between us." + +"But he didn't?" said Chris. "Then what happened? Did he do nothing at +all?" + +"For a long time--nothing," said Bertrand. + +"And then?" + +"Then," very simply he made reply, "he ruined me." + +"Bertie!" She gazed at him with tragedy dawning in her eyes. "He ruined +you! He!" + +"He supplied the evidence against me," Bertrand said. "But it was clever. +He spread a net--so"--he flung out his hands with an explanatory +gesture--"a net that I see not nor suspect, and then when I am entrapped +he draw it close--close, and--I am a prisoner." He shut his teeth with a +click, and for an instant smiled--the smile of the man who fights with +his back against the wall. + +But the tragedy had grown from shadow to reality in the turquoise blue +eyes of the girl beside him. "Oh, Bertie," she said, with a break in her +voice, "then it was all my fault--mine!" + +He turned towards her swiftly. "No, no, no! Who has said that? It is not +true!" he declared, with vehemence. + +"You said it yourself--almost," she told him. "And it is true, for if you +hadn't fought him it would never have happened. Oh, Bertie! I'm beginning +to think it was a dreadful pity I ever went to Valpre!" + +He caught her hands and held them. "You shall not say it!" he declared +passionately. "You shall not think it! _Mignonne_, listen! Those days at +Valpre are to me the most precious, the most sacred, the most dear of my +life. They can never return, it is true. But the memory of them is mine +for ever. Of that can no one deprive me. While I live I shall cherish +them in my heart." + +He cheeked himself abruptly; she was gazing at him with a sort of +speculative wonder that had arrested the tragedy in her eyes. At his +sudden pause she began to smile. + +"Bertie, dear, forgive me, but I can't help thinking what a funny +Englishman you would have made! So you really don't think it was my +fault? I'm so glad. I should break my heart if it were." + +He stooped, catching her hands up to his lips, whispering inarticulately. + +She suffered him, half-laughing. "Silly Frenchman!" she said softly. + +And at that he looked up and let her go. "You are right," he said, +speaking rather thickly. "I am foolish. I am mad. And you--you have the +patience of an angel to support me thus." + +"Oh no," said Chris. "I'm not a bit like an angel. In fact, I'm rather +wicked sometimes--not very, you know, Bertie, only rather. Now let me +show you my presents. I brought them up here on purpose." + +So gaily she diverted the conversation, mainly because she had caught a +gleam of tears in her friend's eyes and was aware that they had not been +far from her own. It would never do for them to sit crying together on +her birthday night. Besides, it was too ridiculous, for what was there to +cry about? Bertrand was in a better position now than he had been for +years. And she--and she--well, it was her birthday, and surely that was +reason enough for being glad. + +It was Bertrand who at length gently drew her attention to the time. They +had been talking for the best part of an hour. + +"Will not the supper dances be nearly finished?" he suggested. + +"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Chris. "Yes, long ago. We must fly. Say +good-bye to Cinders. You will come and see him again soon, won't you? +Come just as often as you can." + +At the door she paused a moment, slipped a warm hand into his, and for +the first time shyly broke her silence upon the subject of her +approaching marriage. + +"I'm so glad you are coming to live with us when we are married," she +said. "I shall never feel lonely with you there." + +"You would not be lonely without me," he made quick response. "You will +have always your husband." + +She caught her breath, and then laughed. "To be sure. I hadn't thought of +that. But Trevor is always busy, and he is going to write a book too." +She looked at him with sudden mischief in her eyes. "Yes, I am very glad +you are coming," she said again. "When he doesn't want you with him you +can come and play with me. And when it's summer"--her eyes fairly +danced--"we'll go for picnics, Bertie, lots of picnics. You'll like that, +_preux chevalier_?" + +He smiled back upon her; who could have helped it? But he stifled a sigh +as he smiled. Would life be always a picnic to her, he asked himself? He +could not imagine it otherwise, and yet he knew that even upon this child +of mirth and innocence the reality of life must dawn some day. Would it +be a gracious dawning of pearly tints and roselit radiance, gradually +filling that eager young soul to the brim with the greater joys of life? +Or would it be fiery and terrible, a blinding, relentless burst of light, +from which she would shrink appalled, discerning the wrath of the gods +before ever she had realized their bounty? + +Could it be thus with her, his little comrade, his bird of Paradise, his +darling? He thought not. He believed not. And yet deep in the heart of +him he feared. + +And because of that lurking fear he vowed silently over the little +friendly hand that lay so confidingly in his that never while breath +remained in his body would he leave her until he knew her happiness--the +ultimate happiness of her womanhood--to be assured. + +It seemed to him that it was for this alone that he had been introduced +once more into her book of life. All his hopes and dreams had passed; he +was an old man before his time; but this one thing, it seemed, was left +to him. For a while longer his name would figure with hers across the +page. Only when the page turned his part would be done. She would not +need him then. She would be a woman; and--_eh bien_, it was only the +child Chris who could ever be expected to need him now. When she ceased +to be a child the need--if such, indeed, existed--would be for ever past; +and he would be no more to her than a memory--the memory of one who had +played with her a while in the happy land of her childhood and had shared +with her the picnics of those summer days. + +This was the sole remaining aspiration of Bertrand de Montville--the man +who in the arrogance of his youth had diced with the gods, and had lost +the cast. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A REVELATION + + +"My dear, it is quite useless for you to attempt to justify your conduct, +for it was simply inexcusable. No argument can possibly alter that fact. +Everyone was waiting about for a considerable time in the supper-room, +desirous of drinking your health, while you, it transpires, were hiding +in a corner with this very questionable foreigner whom Trevor has been +eccentric enough to befriend, but of whom I can discover practically +nothing." + +"But Trevor knows all about him, Aunt Philippa," pleaded Chris. + +"That," said Aunt Philippa, "may or may not be the case. But so long as +you are in my charge, I, and not Trevor, am the one to direct your choice +of acquaintances, and I very strongly object to the inclusion of this +Frenchman in the number. It is my desire, Chris, that you do not see him +again during the rest of the time that you are under my roof. I intend to +speak to Trevor upon the matter at the earliest opportunity. I consider +that, in the face of what has occurred, he would be extremely ill-advised +to retain this unknown foreigner in his employment, though I should +imagine he has already arrived at that conclusion for himself. I could +see that he was seriously displeased by your behaviour last night." + +"Oh, was he?" said Chris blankly. "He didn't say so." + +"He probably realized that it would be useless to express his displeasure +at such a time. But let me warn you, Chris. He is not a man to stand any +trifling. I have heard it from several quarters. Jack, as you are aware, +knows him well, and he will tell you the same. You may try his patience +too far, and that, I presume, is not your intention. Should it happen, I +think that you would regret it all your life." + +"But I haven't trifled! I don't trifle!" protested Chris, divided between +distress and indignation. + +Aunt Philippa smiled unpleasantly--she seldom displayed any other variety +of smile. "That, my dear, is very much a matter of opinion. You had +better go now to Hilda. She is waiting to see your bridesmaid's dress +tried on." + +Chris went, with a worried pucker between her brows. How curious it was +that some people failed so completely to take a reasonable view of +things! They made mountains out of molehills, and expected her to climb +them--she, whose unwary feet were accustomed to trip so lightly along +easy ways. And Trevor too--she caught her breath with a sharp shiver--was +he really seriously displeased with her? He had given no hint of it when +they had danced together, save that he had been somewhat grave and +silent. But then, he was naturally so. She had not thought much of it; +in fact, she had been thinking mainly of Bertie. + +And here a sudden throb of dismay sent the blood to her heart. Aunt +Philippa was going to speak to him upon this subject, was going to +suggest unspeakable things, was going to talk over her conduct with him +and make him furious in earnest. And then it would all come out about her +having met Bertrand all those years ago. Trevor would mention that in the +natural course of things, and then Aunt Philippa would tell him--would +tell him-- + +"Chris, dear, what is the matter? You are as white as a ghost." + +It was Hilda's voice gently recalling her. She came to herself with a +start, and the hot blood rose to her cheeks with a rush. + +"Are you very tired after yesterday?" her cousin asked. "I am afraid you +got up too early." + +"Oh, no!" said Chris. "I wasn't early at all. I didn't ride this morning. +Jack has promised to come for me this evening instead." + +She diverted Hilda's attention desperately. She could not make +confidences in the presence of the dressmaker. Moreover, she was not sure +that she wanted to talk even to Hilda about her pal from Valpre. It was +true Hilda understood most things, but Aunt Philippa had somehow managed +to inspire her with a sense of guilt. She knew she could not speak of +Bertrand with ease to anyone now. + +Besides, there was no time. The moment she was free she must manage +somehow to communicate with Trevor. She must warn him of Aunt Philippa's +intentions. She must explain to him. + +She did not want him to know about that night in the Magic Cave. +Everyone who heard of it was shocked, everyone except Max, and he made +a speciality of never being shocked at anything. Why, it was even +possible--here a new thought leaped up and struck her an unexpected +blow--was it not more than possible that it was this self-same event that +had given rise to the insult that had led to the duel? Of course that +must be it! That was why Bertrand so persistently refused to enlighten +her. How was it she had never before thought of it? It was the truth of +course! How had she failed to see anything so glaringly apparent? + +Yes, it was the truth. She had blundered upon it unawares, and now she +surveyed it horror-stricken, remembering Bertrand's warning that the +knowledge of evil was a poisonous thing. So must Eve have felt when first +her eyes were opened to the wisdom of the gods. + +She was free at last, and sped up to her room. The scribbled message that +reached her _fiance_ an hour later was only just legible, but it spoke +more eloquently of the state of mind of the writer than she knew. + +"DEAR TREVOR,-- + +"Aunt Philippa says you are angry with me. Please don't be. Really there +is nothing to be angry about, though she thinks there is, and she is +going to try and persuade you to send Bertie away. Trevor, don't listen +to her, will you? And, whatever you do, don't tell her about Valpre. I'm +very bothered about it. Do be as kind as you always are to + +"Your loving +CHRIS." + +Mordaunt's answering note reached her late in the afternoon just before +she set forth for her ride in the Park with Jack. + +"MY DEAR LITTLE CHRIS,-- + +"My love to your Aunt Philippa, and I am just off to Paris for the inside +of a week. I shall be back for your cousin's wedding. Ask her to reserve +her lecture till then. Our friend Bertrand sends his _amities_. I send +nothing, for you have it all. + +"Yours, +TREVOR." + +Chris kissed the note with a rush of tenderness--greater than she had +ever managed to bestow upon the writer. That brief response to her appeal +stirred her as she had never been stirred before. It was sweet of him to +trust her so. She would never forget it, never, as long as she lived. + +When Jack appeared to escort her, he noted her radiant face and shining +eyes with approval. + +"Why, you're looking almost pretty for once," he said. "What has happened +to bring it about? It must be a recipe worth having." + +"Don't be absurd!" she retorted, beaming upon him. "Who wants to be +pretty?" + +"It's better to be good certainly," he said. "I know you couldn't be +both. But what's the joke? I think you might let me help laugh." + +"There isn't a joke," she said. "And I'm not laughing. I've had a letter +from Trevor, that's all. And he's going to Paris." + +"Oh-ho!" said Jack. + +"Now you're horrid!" she protested. "I don't want him to go in the +least." + +"Of course not," said Jack. "I've observed how remarkably depressed you +were by the news." + +"I shall be cross with you in a minute," said Chris. + +"Heaven forbid!" said Jack. "When is he coming back?" + +"In time for Hilda's wedding." + +"And does he take the French secretary with him?" + +"Oh, no, he can't go to France. I mean--I mean--" + +Chris stopped in sudden confusion. + +"I know what you mean," said Jack. "They would take too keen an interest +in him over there. Isn't that it?" + +"How did you know?" said Chris. + +He laughed. "The proverbial little bird! I might add that a good many +people know by this time." + +"Oh, Jack, do they?" Chris looked at him in consternation. "He didn't +want anyone to know." + +"My dear child, in that case he should not have courted publicity as the +guest of the evening last night." + +"Jack! He wasn't the guest of the evening! How dare you say such things!" + +Chris's rare displeasure actually was aroused now. Her slight figure +stiffened, and she tapped her knee with her riding-switch. She never +touched her animal with this weapon, whatever his idiosyncrasies, and +certainly the horses she rode generally behaved with docility. + +Jack surveyed her with amused eyes as they turned up under the trees. +"All right," he said imperturbably. "He wasn't. My mistake, no doubt. But +where on earth were you hiding during the supper extras? He was missing +too. Curious, wasn't it?" + +Chris came out of her temper with a winning gesture of appeal. "Jack +dear, don't! I've heard such a lot about it from Aunt Philippa already. +And why shouldn't I talk to my pals? You wouldn't like it if I didn't +talk to you sometimes." + +"Is he that sort of pal?" asked Jack. + +She nodded. "Just that sort. And Trevor knows all about it and +understands. I've just had a line from him to tell me so." + +"Have you, though?" said Jack. "Then all I can say is Trevor is a +brick--a very special kind of brick--and I hope you realize it." + +"He's just the sweetest man in the world," said Chris with enthusiasm. +"He is never horrid about things, and he never thinks what isn't." + +"Lucky for you!" said Jack. + +"Why?" She turned towards him sharply. + +He began to smile. "Because, my dear, you have rather an unfortunate +knack of making things appear--as they are not." + +"I don't know what you mean," she protested. "It's very horrid of people +to imagine things, and it certainly isn't my fault. Trevor understands +that. He always understands." + +"Let us hope he always will," said Jack. + +"He would trust me even if he didn't," said Chris. + +"At the same time," said Jack, "I shouldn't try his faith too far if I +were you. If you ever overstepped it, I have a notion that it might +be--well, somewhat unpleasant for you." + +He spoke the words with a smile, but the silence with which they were +received had in it something that was tragic. Chris was gazing straight +before her as they rode. Her expression was curiously stony, as if, by +some means, her customary animation had been suspended. Jack wondered a +little. After a moment she spoke, without looking round. "Jack!" + +"Your humble servant!" said Jack. + +"I'm not laughing," she said. "I want you to tell me something. You know +Trevor. You knew him years before I did. Have you ever seen him--really +angry?" + +"Great Jove! yes," said Jack. + +"Many times?" There was a little quiver in her voice, but it did not +sound exactly agitated. + +"No, not many times. He isn't the sort of fellow to let himself go, you +know," said Jack. + +"No," she said. "But what is he like--when he is angry?" + +Jack considered. "He's rather like a devil that's been packed in ice for +a very long time. He doesn't expand, he contracts. He emits a species of +condensed fury that has a disastrous effect upon the object thereof. He +is about the last man in the world that I should choose to quarrel with." + +"But why?" she said. "Would you be afraid of him?" + +Jack considered this point too quite gravely and impartially. "I really +don't know, Chris," he said at last. "I believe I should be." + +"He can be terrible, then," she said, as if stating a conclusion rather +than asking a question. + +"More or less," Jack admitted. "But he is never unreasonable. I have +never seen him angry without good cause." + +"And then--I suppose he is merciless?" + +"Quite," said Jack. "I saw him shoot a Kaffir once for knocking a wounded +man on the head. It was no more than the brute deserved. I was lying +wounded myself, and he took my revolver to do it with. But it was a nasty +jolt for the Kaffir. He knew exactly what was going to happen to him and +why, before it happened. Afterwards, when Trevor came back to me, he was +smiling, so I suppose it did him good. He's a very deliberate chap. Some +people call him cold-blooded. He never acts on impulse. And I've never +known him make a mistake." + +"I see." Chris swallowed once or twice as if she felt an obstruction +in her throat. "I expect he would be like that with anyone," she said. +"I mean if he had reason to be angry with anyone, he wouldn't spare +them--whatever they were. I always felt he was like that." + +"He's one of the best chaps in the world," said Jack warmly. + +She assented, but not with the enthusiasm that had marked her earlier +eulogy. She seemed, in fact, to have become a little _distrait_, and +Jack, remarking the fact, suggested a canter. + +They met several people whom they knew before they turned homewards, and +it was not until they were leaving the Park that any further conversation +was possible. + +Then very suddenly Chris reined in and spoke. "Jack, before we go back, I +want to ask you something." + +"Well?" said Jack. + +She made a pathetic little gesture towards him, and touched his knee +with her riding-switch. Her blue eyes besought him very earnestly. "Jack, +we--we are pals, aren't we? Or I couldn't possibly ask it of you. Jack, +I--I've been foolish--and extravagant. And--" she became suddenly +breathless--"I want twenty pounds--to pay some debts. Jack, could +you--would you--" + +"You monkey!" said Jack. + +"I couldn't help it," she declared piteously. "I've spent a frightful lot +of money lately. I don't know how it goes. It runs away like water. But +I--want to get out of debt, Jack. If you will help me just this once, +I'll pay you back when--when--when I'm married." + +"Good heavens, child!" he said. "You shall have it twice over if you +like. But why on earth didn't you tell me before? Don't you know it's +very naughty to run up debts?" + +She nodded. "Yes, I know. But I couldn't help it. There were things I +wanted. And London is such an expensive place. You do understand, dear +Jack, don't you?" + +Jack thought he did. He was, moreover, too fond of his young cousin to +treat her with severity. But he considered it his duty to deliver a brief +lecture on the dangers of insolvency, to which Chris listened with +becoming docility, thanking him with a quick, sweet smile when he had +done. + +Jack did not flatter himself that he had succeeded in making a very deep +impression. He wondered a little what Trevor Mordaunt would have said +under similar circumstances. + +"I hope she will be straightforward with him," was his reflection. "But +she is a Wyndham of the Wyndhams, and everyone knows that her father +didn't suffer over-much from that complaint." + +Which was true. Chris's father had been one of those baffling persons who +are always in want of money and yet seem quite incapable of giving a +clear account of their wants. His affairs had been in a perpetual muddle +from the beginning of his career, and had probably ended so. + +"Most unsatisfactory!" as Aunt Philippa invariably remarked, as a +suitable conclusion to any discussion on the subject of her brother or +any of his family. How she personally had managed to escape the general +blight that rested upon them was a mystery that no one--not Aunt Philippa +herself--had ever been able to solve. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MISGIVINGS + + +Hilda Forest's wedding was one of the events of the season. All London +went to it. Lord Percy Davenant, the bridegroom, was a man of many +friends, and the bride's mother prided herself upon the width of her own +social circle. + +In the midst of the fuss and tumult the bride, very grave and serene, +with shining eyes, went her appointed way. Everyone was loud in her +praise. Her bearing was admirable. She was as one on whom a veil of +happiness had fallen, and external things scarcely touched her. + +She went through her part steadfastly and well, forgetful utterly of the +watching crowds, conscious only of one being in all that critical +multitude, holding only one thought in the silent sanctuary of her soul. + +And Chris, the chief bridesmaid, walking alone behind her, watched and +marvelled. She liked Lord Percy Davenant. He was big, good-natured, +rollicking, and many a joke had they had together. But no faintest tinge +of romance hung about him in her opinion. She could not with the utmost +effort of the imagination see what there was in him to bring that light +into Hilda's eyes. + +It was odd, thought Chris, very odd. If it had been Trevor, now--She +could quite easily have understood it if Hilda had fallen in love with +him. And they would have been eminently well suited to one another, too. +Yes, it was very strange, quite unaccountable! Here she remembered that +Trevor was probably somewhere in the crowd behind her, and peeped over +her shoulder surreptitiously to get a glimpse of him. + +She was not successful, but she caught the eye of one of the bridesmaids +immediately behind her, who leaned forward with a merry smile to whisper, +"Your turn next!" + +Chris turned back sharply. The words had a curious effect upon her; they +gave her almost a sensation of shock. Her turn next to face this ordeal +through which Hilda was passing with such supreme confidence! Would she +feel as Hilda felt when she came to stand with Trevor before the altar? +Would that thrill of deep sincerity be in her voice also as she repeated +the vows irrevocable which were even now leaving Hilda's lips? Would her +eyes meet his with the same pure gladness of love made perfect? + +A sudden tremor went through her. She shivered from head to foot. The +scent of the flowers she held--Hilda's flowers and her own--seemed to +turn her sick. She felt overpowered--lost! + +Desperately she clutched her wavering self-control. This ghastly, +unspeakable doubt must not conquer her. No one must know it--no one must +see! + +But she was as one slipping down a steep incline, faster and faster every +second. The beating of her heart rose up and deafened her. It was like +someone beating a tattoo in the church. She could not hear another word +of the service. And she was suffocating with the nauseous sweetness of +the bridal flowers. Wildly she looked around her. Where was Trevor? He +would help her. He would understand--he always understood. But she sought +him in vain. There was only the long line of bridesmaids behind her and +a sea of indistinct faces on each side. + +She lifted her head and gasped. She felt as if she were being smothered +in flowers. Their heavy perfume stifled her. She understood now why some +people wouldn't have flowers at their funerals. She had always thought it +odd before. + +She was slipping more and more rapidly down that fatal slope. The +sunlight that lay in a great bar of vivid colours across the church +danced before her eyes. She no longer saw the bridal couple in front of +her. They had faded quite away, and in their stead was a terrible abyss +of flowers--bridal flowers that made her sick and faint. + +She swayed as she stood. Who was that speaking? Certain solemn words had +pierced her reeling brain. She heard them as if they came from another +world-- + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." + +Those words would be uttered over her next. Perhaps they were meant +for her even now. Surely it was her own wedding and not Hilda's, +after all! She was being married, and she wasn't ready! Oh, it was +horrible--horrible! And where was Trevor, or Bertie, or someone--anyone-- +to hold her back from that dreadful, scented darkness? + +Ah! An arm supporting her! A steady hand that took the flowers away! +Trevor at last! She turned and clung to him weakly, crying like a +frightened child. Her knees would not support her any longer, they +doubled under her weight. But he lifted her without effort, almost as if +she had been a child indeed, and carried her away. + +He bore her to an open door that led out from the vestry, and there in +the fresh air Chris revived. He set her on her feet, and made her lean +against him. Jack hovered in the background, but he dismissed him. + +"She is all right again. Go and tell your mother. It was an atmosphere to +asphyxiate an ox." + +Chris laughed very shakily. "I'm so sorry, Trevor. Did I make a scene?" + +She would have withdrawn from his support, but he kept his arm about her. +"No, dear. I chanced to be looking at you, and I saw you were going to +faint. I am glad I was able to get you away in time." + +"I couldn't help it," she said, not looking at him. "It was--it was--the +flowers." + +"I know," he said gently. + +She leaned her head against him. It was throbbing painfully. "Oh, +Trevor--it wasn't--only--the flowers," she whispered. + +He put his hand over her aching temples. "Tell me presently, dear," he +said. + +She reached up and found the hand, drew it down over her face, and held +it so for seconds, speaking no word. She touched it softly with her lips +at last, and let it go. + +"I'm well now," she said. "Take me back." + +He looked at her searchingly. "You are sure?" + +She smiled at him, though her eyes were still heavy. "Yes, I'll be quite +good. I mustn't spoil Hilda's wedding by being silly, must I? You haven't +brought Bertie, I suppose?" + +He smiled a little. "He didn't get an invitation." + +"Of course not. Trevor, you didn't think I was--flirting with him that +night?" + +"My dear child--no!" + +"Because I never flirt," said Chris very earnestly. "It's a horrid thing +to do. You'll never think that of me, will you? Or that I have ever +trifled with you--or anyone?" + +Trevor's eyes rested upon her with grave kindness. "My dear, why should I +think these things of you?" he said. + +She shook her head. "I don't know. Lots of people do. But you are +different. I think you understand. You'll stay after it's over and have a +talk, won't you?" + +"Yes," he said. + +She slipped her hand into his. "Now let's go back." + +They went back. The ceremony was very nearly over. Chris took her place +again, and followed the bride into the vestry afterwards. + +Later, at the crowded reception, she was among the merriest, and very few +noticed that she was paler than usual or that her eyes were deeply +shadowed. + +The wedded pair left early, and immediately afterwards the guests began +to disperse. Mordaunt, who had been making himself generally useful, +looked round for Chris as soon as a leisure moment arrived. But he looked +in vain; she was not to be found. + +He went through every room in search of her, but all to no purpose. For a +while he lingered, waiting for her, talking to the few people who +remained. But at length, as there was still no sign of her, he prepared +to take his departure also, with the intention of presenting himself +again later. + +He was actually on the doorstep when Jack came striding after him. "I +say, Chris wants you. I forgot to mention it. Make my apologies, for +Heaven's sake! She must have been waiting an hour or more." + +"What?" Mordaunt turned back sharply, frowning. + +"Don't scowl, there's a dear chap," said Jack. "I'm awfully sorry. I had +such a shoal of things to see to. She's upstairs, right at the top of the +house, first door you come to. She said you were to go up and have tea +with her and Cinders. Really, I'm horribly sorry." + +"All right. So you ought to be," Mordaunt said, and left him to his +regrets. + +He was somewhat breathless when he arrived outside the door of Chris's +little sanctum, but he did not pause on that account. He knocked with his +hand already upon the handle, and almost immediately turned it. + +"I can come in?" he asked. + +A muffled bark from Cinders was the only answer--a warning bark, as +though he would have the intruder tread softly. + +Mordaunt trod softly in consequence, softly entered, softly closed the +door. + +He found his little _fiancee_ crouched on the floor beside an ancient +sofa, her arms resting upon it and her head sunk upon them. Cinders, very +alert, bristling with importance, mounted guard on the sofa itself. + +For Chris was asleep, curled up in her bridesmaid finery, a study in +white and blue, with a single splash of vivid red-gold where the sunlight +touched her hair. + +Cinders growled below his breath as Mordaunt approached. He also wagged +his tail, though without effusion. The visitor was welcome so far as he +was concerned, but he must make no disturbance. A canny little beast was +Cinders. + +And so, noiselessly, Mordaunt drew near, and bent above the child upon +the floor. He saw that she had been crying. Even in repose her face +looked wan, and there was a soaked morsel of lace that had evidently been +quite inadequate for the occasion crumpled up in one hand. + +What was the trouble? he wondered, and wished with all his heart that +Cinders could impart it. He had no doubt that Cinders knew. + +It seemed almost cruel to awake her, but neither could he bring himself +to leave her as she was. He looked to Cinders for inspiration. And +Cinders, with a flash of intelligence that proved him more than beast, if +less than human, lowered his queer little muzzle and licked his +mistress's face. + +That roused her. She stretched out her arms with a vague, sleepy murmur, +smiled, opened her eyes. + +"Oh, Trevor!" she said. "You!" + +He stooped over her. "Chris, is anything the matter?" + +She looked at him. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I forget." + +"Poor child!" he said. "It's a shame to make you remember. But I'm afraid +it is inevitable. Won't you lie on the sofa? You will find it more +comfortable." + +"No," said Chris. "I like the floor the best. You can sit on the sofa, if +Cinders doesn't mind. Has everyone gone, downstairs? Hasn't it been a +dreadful day?" She leaned her head against his knee with a sigh of +weariness. "I do think getting married is a dreadful business," she said. + +His hand was on her hair, the beautiful, burnished hair that Mademoiselle +Gautier had deemed one of her most dangerous possessions. He did not try +to see her face, and perhaps for that very reason Chris leaned against +him with complete confidence. + +"So you don't want to be married?" he said, after a moment. + +"No, I don't!" she said, with vehemence. "I think marriage is +dreadful--dreadful, when you come to look at it close." She moved her +head under his hand; for an instant her face was raised. "Trevor, you +don't mind my saying it, do you?" + +"I want you to say exactly what is in your mind," he made grave reply. + +"I knew you would." She nestled down again, and pulled his hand +over her shoulder, holding it against her cheek. "I know I'm very +unorthodox," she said. "Perhaps I'm wicked as well. I can't help it. +I think marriage--except for good people like Hilda--is a mistake. +It's so terribly cold-blooded and--and irrevocable." + +She spoke the last words almost in a whisper. She was holding his hand +very tightly. + +He sat very still, and she wondered if he were shocked by her views, but +she could not bring herself to ascertain. She went on quickly, with a +touch of recklessness-- + +"It's only the good people like Hilda who can be quite sure they will +never change their minds. In fact, I'm beginning to think that it's only +the good people who never do. Trevor, what should you do if--if you were +married to me, and then you--changed your mind?" + +"I can't imagine the impossible, Chris," he said. + +She moved restlessly. "Would it be quite impossible?" + +"Quite." + +"Even if you found out that I was--quite worthless?" + +"That also is impossible," he said gravely. + +She was silent for a space, then, "And what if I--changed mine?" she +said, her voice very low. + +"Have you changed your mind?" he asked. + +She shrank at the question, quietly though it was uttered. + +His hand closed very steadily upon hers. "Don't be afraid to tell me," he +said. "I want the truth, you know, whatever it is." + +"I know," she said, and suddenly she began to sob drearily, hopelessly, +with her head against his knee. + +He bent lower over her; he lifted her till he held her in his arms, +pressed close against his heart. + +"Yes, hold me!" she whispered, through her tears. "Hold me tight, Trevor! +Don't let me go! I don't feel so--so frightened when you are holding me." + +"Tell me what has frightened you," he said. + +"I can't," she whispered back. "I'm just--foolish, that's all. And, +Trevor, I can't--I can't--be married as Hilda was to-day. I can't face +it--all the people and the grandeur and the flowers. You won't make me, +Trevor?" + +"My darling, no!" he said. + +"It frightened me so," she said forlornly. "It seemed like being caught +in a trap. One felt as if the guests and the flowers were meant to hide +it all, but they didn't--they made it worse. I don't think Hilda felt +like that, but then Hilda is so good, she wouldn't. Oh, Trevor dear, I +wish--I wish we could go to Kellerton and live there without being +married at all." + +The words came muffled from his shoulder; she was clinging to him almost +convulsively. + +"But we can't, Chris," he said, his quiet voice coming through her +agitation with a patience so immense that it seemed to dwarf even her +distress. "At least, dear, you can go and live there if you wish, but I +can't. Perhaps I am not indispensable." + +"No, no!" she said quickly, as though the suggestion hurt her. "I want +you." + +"Then I am afraid you will have to marry me," he said. "We won't have a +big wedding. It shall be as private as you like. I suppose you will want +your brothers to be there." + +"Why can't we run away together and get married all by ourselves?" +suggested Chris. She raised her head and regarded him with sudden +animation. "Wouldn't it be fun?" she said. "You could come for me in the +motor, and we could fly off to some out-of-the-way village and be married +before anyone knew anything about it. There would be no one to gloat over +us and make silly jokes, no horrid show at all. Trevor," her face flashed +into gaiety once more, "I'll go with you to-morrow!" + +He smiled at her eagerness. "If I were to agree to that, you would run +away in the night." + +"Run away from you!" said Chris. She wound her arm swiftly about his +neck. "As if I should!" she said reproachfully. + +He looked at her, baffled in spite of his determination to understand. +"You wouldn't want to do that, then?" he said. + +She nestled to him with a gesture most winning. "Never, never, unless--" + +"Unless--?" he repeated. + +"Unless--for any reason--you were angry with me," she murmured, with her +face hidden again. + +He folded his arms more closely about her. "My little Chris, never be +afraid of that," he said. + +"Oh, but you might be," she protested. + +"Never, Chris." He spoke gravely, with absolute conviction. + +She turned her lips quickly to his. "Then let's run away together, shall +we?" + +He kissed her with great tenderness before he answered. "No, dear, no. It +can't be done. What would your aunt say to it?" + +"Surely if I don't mind that, you needn't!" she said. + +But he shook his head. "I won't let you be pestered with preparations. We +will keep it a secret from everyone outside. But I think we must let your +Aunt Philippa into it. I think you owe her that." + +"P'raps," admitted Chris, without enthusiasm. "But she is sure to want a +big show, Trevor." + +"Leave that to me," he said. "I promise you shall not have that. We will +get it done early, and we will be at Kellerton for luncheon." + +Her eyes shone. "How lovely! And the boys, too--and Bertie?" + +He surveyed the eager face for a few seconds in silence. Then, "Chris," +he said, "would it mean a very great sacrifice to you if I asked for the +first fortnight with you alone?" + +He was watching her closely, watching for the faintest suggestion of +disappointment or hesitancy in the clear eyes, but he detected neither. +Chris beamed upon him tranquilly. + +"Why, I should love it! There's no end of things I want to show you. +And we can make it all snug before Bertie and the boys come. But, of +course"--she became suddenly serious--"I must have Cinders with me." + +"Oh, we won't exclude Cinders," he said. + +She laughed--the gay, sweet laugh he loved to hear. "That's settled, +then. And you'll make Aunt Philippa promise not to tell, for of course +that would spoil everything. Oh, and Trevor, you won't discuss Bertrand +with her? Promise!" + +He looked at her keenly for a moment, met only the coaxing confidence of +her eyes, and decided to ask no question. + +"My dear," he said, "as far as Bertrand is concerned, your Aunt Philippa +and I have nothing to discuss." + +"That's all right," said Chris, with relief. "Trevor, you've done me a +lot of good. You are quite the most comforting man I know. I'm not +frightened any more, and I'll never be such a little idiot again as long +as I live." + +She rose with the words, stood a moment with her hand on his shoulder, +then stooped and shyly kissed his forehead. + +"You always understand," she said. "And I love you for it. There!" + +"I am glad, dear," he said gently. + +But he did not look particularly elated notwithstanding. There had been +moments in their recent conversation when, so far from understanding her, +he had felt utterly and completely at a loss. He had not the heart to +tell her so, for he knew that she was quite incapable of explaining +herself; but the fact remained. And he wondered with a vague misgiving if +he had yet succeeded--if, indeed, he ever would wholly succeed--in +finding his way along the many intricate windings that led to her inmost +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MARRIED + + +It was certainly the quietest wedding of the season. People said that +this was due to the bridegroom's well-known dislike of publicity; but, +whatever the reason, the secret was well kept, and when Chris came out of +the church on her husband's arm there was only Bertrand, standing +uncovered by the carriage-door, to give her greeting. + +She was smiling as she came, but it was rather a piteous smile. She had +faced the ordeal with a desperate courage, but she had not found it easy. +Only Trevor's steadfast strength had held her up. She had been conscious +of his will acting upon hers throughout. With the utmost calmness he had +quelled her agitation, had stilled the wild flutter of her nerves, had +compelled her to a measure of composure. And now that it was over she +felt that he was still in a fashion holding her back, controlling her, +till she should have recovered her normal state of mind and be in a +condition to control herself. + +But the sight of Bertrand diverted her thoughts. Owing to her aunt's +strenuous prohibition, she had not met him since the night of her +birthday dance. She broke from Mordaunt to give him both her hands. + +"Oh, Bertie," she cried, between tears and laughter, "it is good to see +you again!" + +He bent very low, so low that she only saw the top of his black head. +"Permit me to offer my felicitations," he said, in a voice that was +scarcely audible. + +Her hands closed tightly for a second upon his. "You are pleased, +Bertie?" she said, with a quickening of the breath. + +He straightened himself instantly; he looked into her eyes. "But you are +happy, yes?" he questioned. + +"Of course," she told him hurriedly. + +He smiled--the ready smile with which he had learned to mask his soul. +"_Alors_, I am pleased," he said. + +He helped her into the carriage, and turned, still smiling, to the man +behind her. Yet he flinched ever so slightly from the grip of Mordaunt's +hand. It was the merest gesture, scarcely perceptible; in a moment he had +covered it with the quick courtesy of his race. But Mordaunt was aware of +it, and for a single instant he wondered. + +He took his place beside his bride, who tucked her hand inside his arm, +with a little sob of sheer relief. + +"Did I sound very squeaky, Trevor? I tried not to squeak." + +He forgot Bertrand and everyone else but the trembling girl by his side. +He laid a soothing hand on hers. + +"My dear, you did splendidly. It wasn't so very terrifying, was it?" + +"It was appalling," said Chris. "I kept saying to myself, 'Just a little +longer and then that lovely new motor--my motor--and home.' You are going +to give me my first lesson in driving to-day, aren't you? Say yes!" + +He said "Yes," feeling that he was bestowing a reward for good behaviour. + +She squeezed his arm. "And isn't it nice," she whispered, with shining +eyes, "to feel that we are really going to stay there when we get there?" + +He pressed the small, confiding hand. "You are glad, then, Chris?" he +said. + +"Oh, my dear, I should think I am!" she made answer. "I've been counting +the days to the one when I shan't have to peck Aunt Philippa good-night. +She never kisses properly and she won't let me. She says it's childish +and unrestrained." She laid her cheek suddenly against his shoulder. +"I've had no one to hug for ever so long--except Cinders," she said. + +"Hasn't Cinders been enough?" he asked, with a hint of surprise. + +She turned her face upwards quickly. "Trevor, you're not to laugh at me! +It isn't fair." + +He smiled a little. "I am not laughing, Chris, I assure you. I have +always thought until this moment that Cinders was more precious to you +than anyone else in the world." + +"Oh, that's because you're a man," said Chris inconsequently. "Men always +have absurd theories about women and the things they care for. As if we +can't love heaps of people at the same time!" + +"You can only love one person best," he pointed out. + +"At a time," supplemented Chris, with a merry smile. "And you choose your +person according to your mood. At least, I do. Oh, Trevor," with a sudden +change of tone, "don't look! There's a hearse!" + +She hid her face against him, and he felt a violent tremor go through +her. He put his arm about her and held her close. + +"My darling, what makes you so superstitious?" + +"I'm not," she murmured shakily. "It isn't superstitious to believe in +death, is it? It's a fact one can't get away from. And it frightens +me--it frightens me! Think of it, Trevor! We only belong to each other +till death us do part. Afterwards--who knows?--we may be in different +worlds." + +He pressed her closer, feeling her cling to him. "There is a greater +thing than death, Chris," he said. + +"I know! I know!" she whispered back. "But--I sometimes think--I'm not +big enough for it. I sometimes wonder--if God gave me a heart at all." + +"My little Chris!" he said. "My darling!" + +She lifted a troubled face. The tears were in her eyes. "Don't you often +think me silly and fickle?" she said. "And you'll find it more and more +the more you see of me. You'll be disappointed in me--you'll be horribly +disappointed--some day." + +He looked down at her with great tenderness. "That day will never come, +dear," he said. "If it did, I should blame myself much more than I blamed +you. Come! You mustn't cry on our wedding-day. You're not really +unhappy?" + +"But I'm afraid," she said. + +He dried her eyes and kissed her. "There is nothing to make you afraid," +he said. "Haven't I sworn to love and cherish you?" + +She nestled to him with a sigh. "It was very nice of you, Trevor," she +said. + +Her spirits revived during her motor-ride to Kellerton. The renovations +there were in full swing. One portion of the house had been already made +habitable for them. Mordaunt had had the entire management of this, but, +as Chris gaily remarked, she would probably change everything round when +she came upon the scene. + +"I feel as if the holidays have just begun," she said to him as they sped +over the dusty road. "And I'm going to work harder than I have ever +worked in my life." + +"If I let you," he said. + +At which remark she made a face, and then, repenting patted his knee. +"You will let me do what I like, I know. You always do." + +"In moderation," said Trevor, with a smile. + +She dismissed the matter as too trivial for discussion. "When are you +going to let me drive?" + +He gave her her first lesson then and there, an experience which +delighted Chris so much that she refused to relinquish the wheel until +they stopped at a country town for luncheon. + +Here her whole attention was occupied in keeping Cinders from chasing the +hotel cat, till Trevor caught and cuffed the miscreant, when her anxiety +turned to indignation on her darling's behalf, and she snatched him away +and kept him sheltered in her arms for the rest of their sojourn. + +"I never punish Cinders," she said. "He's hardly ever naughty, and if he +is he's always sorry afterwards." + +Cinders, whose temper was ruffled, glared at Mordaunt and cursed him in +an undertone throughout the meal, notwithstanding the choice morsels with +which his young mistress sought to propitiate him. + +"I do hope you haven't made him dislike you," she said, when at length +they returned to the car. "He is rather tiresome with people he doesn't +like." + +"If he doesn't behave himself, we will send him to Bertrand to take care +of," Mordaunt rejoined. + +"Indeed we won't!" Chris declared, with warmth. "He has never been away +from me day or night since I first had him." + +At which declaration Mordaunt raised his eyebrows, and said no more. + +He had always known Cinders for a dog of character, but not till that day +had he credited him with the remarkable intuition by which he seemed to +know--and resent--the fact that his mistress was no longer his exclusive +property. It may have been that Chris herself imparted something of the +new state of affairs to him by the very zeal of her guardianship. But +undoubtedly, whatever its source, the knowledge had dawned in Cinders' +brain and with it a fierce jealousy which he had never displayed in +Mordaunt's presence before. + +It was an afternoon of unclouded sunshine. Chris lay back in her seat, +somewhat wearied but quite content, watching the cornfields with their +red wealth of poppies, watching the long, white road before them, and now +and then the unerring hands that held the wheel. + +When at length they neared Kellerton she roused herself and became more +animated. "It's been a lovely ride, Trevor. Let's go for one every day. +Sometimes we might go down to the sea--it's only ten miles. But we will +wait till Bertie comes for that. Ah, there is the lodge! How smart it +looks! And they have actually taken the thistles out of the drive! I +shouldn't have known it." + +She sat up with eager delight in her eyes. The lodge-gates were open; +they ran smoothly in without a pause and on up the long avenue to the old +grey house. + +Chris was enchanted. It was such a home-coming as she had never pictured. + +"It's like a dream," she said. "I can't believe it's true. Everything +looks so different. The garden was an absolute wilderness the last time +we were here." + +It had been turned into a paradise since then, and every second brought +fresh discoveries to her ecstatic gaze. + +"I didn't know it could be so lovely," she declared. "And you've done it +all in a few weeks. Trevor, you're a magician!" + +He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Oh, it isn't all my doing. I have only been +down twice since the day you were here. I put it into capable hands, +that's all. Nothing has been altered, only set to rights." + +"It's lovely!" cried Chris. + +Tired and thirsty though she was, she could hardly wait to have tea on +the terrace before the house before she was off along the dear, familiar +paths to her favourite nook under a great yew-tree whose branches swept +the ground. A rustic seat surrounded the ancient trunk. + +"This is my castle," said Chris. "This is where I hide when I don't want +anyone to find me." + +She stretched back a hand to her husband, and led him into her shadowy +domain. + +"The boys used to call it Hades," she said, in a hushed voice. "And I +used to pretend I was Persephone. I did so wish Pluto would appear some +day with his chariot and his black horses and take me underground. But," +with a sigh, "he never did." + +"Let us hope you have been reserved for a happier fate," Mordaunt said, +with his arm about her. + +She flashed him her quick smile. "You instead of Pluto! But I always +thought he was rather fascinating, and I longed to see the underworld." + +"I think the sunshine suits you best," he said. + +"Oh yes, but just to see--just to know what it's like! I do so love +exploring," insisted Chris. + +He smiled and drew her out of her gloomy retreat. "Sometimes it's better +not to know too much," he said. + +"But one couldn't," she protested. "All knowledge is gain." + +"Of a sort," he said. "But it is not always to be desired on that +account." + +A sudden memory went through Chris. She gave a sharp shudder. "Oh no!" +she said. "One doesn't want to know horrid things! I forgot that." + +He looked at her interrogatively, but she turned her face away. "Let's go +back to the house. I wonder where Cinders is." + +They returned to the house, and again Chris was lost in delight. A great +deal yet remained to be done, but the completed portion was all that +could be desired. They had chosen much of the furniture together, and she +spent most of the evening in arranging it, with her husband's assistance, +to her satisfaction. + +But when at length the hour for dinner arrived he would not suffer her to +do anything further. + +"I believe you have done too much as it is," he said, "and after dinner I +shall have something to show you." + +She yielded readily enough. She certainly was tired. "I feel as if to-day +had lasted for about six weeks," she said. + +But her animation did not wane in spite of this, and she would even have +returned to her labours after they had dined had Mordaunt permitted it. +He was firm upon this point, however, and again without protest she +yielded. + +"You were going to show me something. What was it?" + +"To be sure," he said. "I was going to show you how to write a cheque. +Come over to the writing-table and see how it is done." + +Chris went, looking mystified. "But I shall never write cheques, Trevor," +she said. + +"No? Why not?" + +He drew up a chair for her and knelt down beside her. + +"You are a woman of property now, Chris," he said, and laid a new +cheque-book on the pad in front of her. + +Chris gazed at it, wide-eyed. "But, Trevor, I haven't got any money at +the bank, have I?" + +"Plenty," he said, with a smile--"in fact, a very large sum indeed which +will have to be invested in your name. That we will go into another day, +but for present needs, if you are wanting money--" + +"Yes?" said Chris eagerly. + +He put a pen into her hand and opened the cheque-book. + +She slipped her arm round his neck. "Trevor, I--I don't feel as if you +ought. I--of course I--knew you would make me an allowance, but--but--you +ought not to give me a lot of money all my own." + +"My darling," he said gently, "don't forget that you are my wife, will +you?" + +She smiled a little shyly. "Do you know--I had forgotten--quite!" + +He put his arm about her as she sat. "You must try to remember it, dear, +because it's rather important. I know I might have made you an allowance, +but I prefer that you should be independent. Only, Chris, I am going to +ask a promise of you; and I want you to make it at the very beginning of +our life together. That is why I have spoken on our wedding-night." + +"Yes?" whispered Chris. + +She had begun to tremble a little, and he pressed her to him +reassuringly. "I want you to promise me that you will never run into +debt, that if for any cause you find that you have not enough of your own +you will come to me at once and tell me." + +He spoke with grave kindness, watching her face the while. But Chris's +eyes did not meet his own. She was rolling the pen he had given her up +and down the blotting-pad with much absorption. + +"Is it a promise, Chris?" he asked at length. + +She threw him a nervous glance and nodded. + +He laid his hand upon hers and held it still. "Chris, have you any debts +now?" + +She was silent. + +"My dear," he said, "don't be afraid of me!" + +There was that in his voice that moved her to the depths; she could not +have said why. Impulsively, almost passionately, she went into his arms. + +"I won't!" she said. "I won't! Trevor, I--I've been a little beast! That +money you gave me on my birthday I didn't do--what you meant me to do +with it. I just--spent it. I don't know how. And then--when you asked +about it that night--I didn't dare to tell you, and I haven't dared +since. I just let you think it was all right--when it wasn't. Oh, Trevor, +don't be angry--don't be angry!" + +"I am not angry," he said. + +"Not really? But how you must despise me! It's just the way of the +Wyndhams. We all do it. Trevor, why did you make me tell you?" + +"My dear child," he said, "you must tell me these things. It is your only +possibility of happiness, and mine also. Chris, never keep anything from +me, for Heaven's sake! Don't you know that I trust you?" + +"I don't deserve it!" sobbed Chris, clinging faster. "You don't know how +bad I am!" + +"Hush!" he said, with a restraining hand upon her head. "You have told me +everything now?" + +"Oh no, I haven't!" she whispered. "There are crowds of things I couldn't +even begin to tell you. I have always warned you how it would be. I +always said--" + +Her agitation was increasing, and her words became inaudible. He saw that +her nerves had given way under the long day's strain, and firmly, with +infinite gentleness, he put a stop to further discussion of a subject +that threatened to upset her seriously. + +"Never mind," he said. "You will tell me by and bye, or if you don't I +shall know it is all right. Chris, Chris, you mustn't get hysterical. You +are worn out, dear, and it has upset your sense of proportion. Come, I am +going to send you to bed. We will go into these money matters in the +morning." + +But Chris vehemently negatived this. "I don't want to--to spoil +to-morrow. I--I shouldn't sleep for thinking of it. Oh, Trevor, let's +settle it now. I'm going to be sensible--really. And--and--if you'll +forgive me for all the bad things I've done up to to-day I--I will really +try to tell you everything as it happens from now on. Will you, Trevor?" + +She raised pleading, pathetic eyes, still wet with tears. He could feel +her still quivering with the emotion she was striving to subdue. She was +too near in that moment to resist--perhaps he would not have resisted her +in any case; for he had it not in his heart to think ill of her. + +"My darling," he said, "we will leave it at that. Only--in the +future--trust me as I am trusting you." + +He turned to the table and closed the cheque-book. "These debts are my +affair. I will settle them. Just tell me what they are." + +"Oh, but they are settled!" she told him. "I promised I would, you know." + +"Then"--he looked at her--"someone lent you the money?" + +Something in his tone made her shrink again. She hesitated. + +"Chris!" he said. + +Nervously she answered him. "Jack lent me forty pounds." + +"Jack!" he said. "You weren't afraid to ask him, then?" + +"Oh no!" she said quickly. "I'm not a bit afraid of Jack." + +"Only of me, Chris!" + +She gave herself back to him with a swift, shy movement. "It's the fear +of vexing you," she said. "I don't mind vexing--other people. It's only +you--only you. Trevor, say you understand!" + +He did not answer her instantly, but the close holding of his arms drove +all misgiving from her soul. He rose to his feet, raising her with him, +pressing her to him faster and ever faster till her arms crept round his +neck again, and she lay, a willing prisoner, against his heart. + +And so holding her, at last he answered her tremulous appeal. "My +darling, never be afraid of vexing me! Never be afraid that I shall not +understand!" + +She could not speak in answer. The wonder of his love for her had +stricken her dumb; it had swept upon her like a wave, towering, immense, +resistless, bearing her far beyond her depth. + +She could only mutely lift her quivering lips; and he, moved to +gentleness by her action, took her face between his hands with infinite +tenderness, gazing down into her eyes with that in his own which cast out +the last of her fear. + +"My little Chris!" he said. "My wife!" + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SUMMER WEATHER + + +"I think quite the worst part of being married is having to pay calls," +said Chris. + +"You do not like it, no?" said Bertrand, with quick sympathy. + +"No," she rejoined emphatically. "And I don't see any sense in it either. +No one ever wants afternoon callers." + +"But that depends upon the caller, does it not?" he said. + +"Not in the least," said Chris. "There's a stodginess about afternoon +calling that affects even the nicest people. It's the most tiresome +institution there is." + +"Then why do it?" he suggested, with a smile. + +She shook her head severely. + +"Don't be immoral, Bertie! You're trying to tempt me from my duty." + +"Never!" he declared earnestly. + +"Oh, but you are; and I am not sure that you are not neglecting your own +as well. What brought you out at this hour?" + +He spread out his hands. "Mr. Mordaunt has ordered me to take a rest +to-day." + +Chris looked up at him sharply. "Aren't you well, Bertie?" + +"But it is nothing," he said. "I have told him. It happens to me +often--often--that I do not sleep. I have explained all that. But what +would you? He is obstinate--he will not listen." + +Chris patted a hammock-chair beside her. "Sit down at once. I knew there +was something the matter directly I saw you this morning. But you always +look horribly tired. Do you never sleep properly?" + +He dropped into the chair and stretched up his arms with a sigh. "It is +only in the morning that I am tired," he said. "It is nothing--a weakness +that passes. Or if it passes not--I go." + +"Go!" repeated Chris, startled. + +He turned his head towards her. "That surprises you, yes? But how can I +remain if I cannot work?" + +"Oh, but you haven't been here a fortnight," she said quickly. "I expect +the change of air has upset you. And it has been so hot too." + +He acquiesced languidly, as if not greatly interested. His dark eyes +watched her gravely. Evidently his thoughts had wandered from himself. + +Chris was not slow to perceive this. "What are you thinking of?" she +demanded. + +"I am thinking of you," he answered promptly. + +"What of me?" The blue eyes met his quite openly. Chris was always frank +to her pals. + +"I was thinking," he said, in his soft, friendly voice, "how you were +happy, and how I was glad." + +She threw him a quick smile. "How nice of you, Bertie! And how +beautifully French! But, you know, I shan't be happy if you talk of +leaving us. It will spoil everything, and I shall be absolutely +miserable." + +"You were not miserable before I joined you, no?" he said, smiling back +at her. + +"Of course I wasn't. But that was quite different. I knew all the while +that you were coming. I should have been if anything had happened to +prevent you." + +"Really?" he said thoughtfully. + +"Yes, really!" Chris was emphatic. "And I am sure there is nothing much +the matter with you, Bertie; now, is there?" + +He scarcely responded. "It will pass," he said. "And so you have arranged +to make visits this afternoon?" + +"Yes. Isn't it a bother?" Chris's brow wrinkled. "Noel wanted me to go +and fish with him, but Trevor says I must go and see Mrs. Pouncefort, so +I suppose I must. I hoped he would come too, but he has got to stay and +interview the architect about that subsidence in the north wing. I wish +you would come instead." + +He shook his head. "No--no! That is not possible. Where does this lady +live?" + +"Sandacre way, towards the sea. Oh, do you know Rupert is coming over on +Sunday with some brother officers? I had a card from him this morning. He +is very fond of Mrs. Pouncefort--they all are. I don't know quite why. I +believe they spend half their time there. Mr. Pouncefort is a dear little +man--no one could help liking him. He has a yacht, and they always have a +crowd of people staying there at this time of the year." + +"_Alors_," he said, "it will amuse you to go there, no?" + +Chris smiled. "Oh, not particularly. I would much rather stay with you +and Trevor. Besides, I've such a lot to do." + +She did not look overwhelmed with work as she leaned back in her +hammock-chair, but she evidently intended to be busy, for a basket and +scissors stood beside her. + +Bertrand was much too courteous to suggest that she was not making the +most of her time. Or perhaps he did not want to be left in solitary +contemplation of that fleeting August morning. He lay silent for a +little, and presently requested permission to smoke a cigarette. + +"Of course," she said at once. "Why don't you go and lie in the hammock? +I will come and rock you to sleep." + +He thanked her, smiling, but declined. + +She watched him light his cigarette with eyes grown thoughtful. Suddenly: +"Bertie," she said, "are you very unhappy nowadays?" + +He made a jerky movement, and dropped the match, still burning. Hastily +he bent to extinguish it, but Chris was before him, her hand upon his +arm, restraining him. + +"No, sit still! It's all right. Tell me, please, Bertie! I want to know." + +He shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, still smiling, but in a fashion +that she was at a loss to interpret. + +"But what a question, _petite_! How can I answer it?" + +"I should have thought---between friends---" she began. + +"_Ah, oui_! We are friends, are we not?" A curious expression of relief +took the place of his smile, and she felt as if for some reason he had +been afraid. "And you ask me if I am unhappy," he said. "_Mais +vraiment_--I know not what to say!" + +"Then you are!" she said, quick pain in her voice. + +He looked down at the little friendly hand that lay upon his arm, but he +did not offer to touch it. His eyes remained downcast as he spoke. "I am +more happy than I ever expected to be, Christine." + +"You like your work?" she questioned. "Trevor is kind to you?" + +"He is--much too kind," the Frenchman answered, with feeling. + +"But still you are unhappy?" she said. + +"It is--my own fault," he told her, still not looking at her. + +She rubbed his sleeve sympathetically. "Bertie, don't you think--if you +tried very hard--you might manage to forget all that old trouble?" + +There was a note of pleading in her voice, and he made a quick gesture as +he heard it, as if in some way it pierced him. + +She went on speaking, as he made no attempt to do so. "You know, Bertie, +you really are quite young still, and there are such a lot of nice things +left. It's such a pity to keep on grieving. Don't you think so? It seems +rather a waste of time. And I do--so--want you to be happy." + +At the quiver in her voice he glanced up sharply, but he instantly +lowered his eyes again. And still he said no word. He only drew his brows +together and bit his cigarette to a pulp. + +Her hand came softly down his arm and lay upon his. + +"Bertie," she said, in a whisper, "you're not--vexed?" + +His hand clenched at her touch, but on the instant he looked up at her +with a smile. "Vexed!" he said. "With you! A thousand times--no!" + +She smiled back, reassured. "Then will you--please--try to forget what +you have lost? I know it won't be easy, but will you try? It's the only +possible way to be happy. And if you are not happy--I shan't be either." + +He took her hand at last with perfect steadiness into his own. "You know +not what I have lost," he said. "But--if I try to forget--that will +content you?" + +She nodded. "Yes, Bertie." + +He looked at her intently for a moment, then, "_Eh Bien_!" he said +briskly. "I will try." + +"_Bon garcon_!" she said, with a merry smile. "That is settled, then. +Why, there is Trevor! Has he finished that article of his already? He +looked quite absorbed when I passed his window half an hour ago." She +waved to him as he approached. "Why don't you wear a hat, you mad +Englishman? Don't you know the sun is broiling?" + +He smiled and ignored the warning. Bertrand sprang from his chair as he +reached them, but Mordaunt instantly pressed him down again. + +"No, no, man! Sit still! I have only come out for a moment." + +"But I am going," Bertrand protested. "I cannot sit and do nothing. There +are those accounts that you have given me to do. They are not yet +finished. Also--" + +"Also, they are not going to be done to-day," Mordaunt said, shaking him +gently by the shoulder. "Chris, I am going to hand this fellow over to +you for the next few days. You can do what you like with him so long as +you don't let him do any work. That I absolutely forbid. You understand +me, Bertrand?" + +"But I cannot--I cannot," Bertrand said restlessly. "You are already much +too good to me. You overwhelm me with kindness, and I--I make no return +at all. No, listen to me--" + +"I'm not going to listen to you," Mordaunt said. "You are talking +nonsense, my friend, arrant drivel--nothing less. Chris will tell you the +same." + +"Of course," said Chris. "Besides, there are crowds of things you can do +for me. No, he shan't be overworked, I promise you, Trevor. But I'm going +to try a new cure. Just for this afternoon he is going to lie in the +hammock and smoke cigarettes. But after to-day"--she nodded gaily at the +perturbed Frenchman--"after to-day, Bertie, _nous verrons_!" + +He smiled in spite of himself, but he continued to look dissatisfied till +Mordaunt carelessly turned the conversation. + +"Where's that young beggar Noel?" + +"Fishing in the Home Meadow," said Chris. + +"Quite sure?" + +"I think so," she said. "Why?" + +"Because he has taken one of my guns, and I believe he is potting +rabbits." + +Chris sat up with consternation in her eyes. "Trevor! I believe he is +too! I heard someone shooting half an hour ago. And he has got Cinders +with him! I know he will go and shoot him by mistake!" + +"Or himself," said Mordaunt grimly. + +"Oh, he won't do that," said Chris with confidence. "Nothing ever happens +to Noel." + +"Something will happen to him before long if he doesn't behave himself," +observed Mordaunt. "My patience began to wear thin last night when I +caught him asleep with a smouldering pipe on his pillow." + +"Oh, but he always does what he likes in the holidays," pleaded Chris. + +"Does he?" Mordaunt's voice was uncompromising. + +She slipped a quick hand into his. "Trevor, you wouldn't spoil his fun?" + +He looked down at her, faintly smiling. "My dear Chris, it depends upon +the fun. I'm not going to have the place burnt down for his amusement." + +"Oh no," she said. "But you won't be strict with him, will you? He will +only do things on the sly if you are." + +Mordaunt frowned abruptly. "If I catch him doing anything underhand--" + +She broke in sharply in evident distress. "But we all do, Trevor! I--I've +done it myself before now--often with Mademoiselle Gautier, and then with +Aunt Philippa. One has to, you know. At least--at least--" His grey eyes +suddenly made her feel cold, and she stopped as impulsively as she had +begun. + +There was a moment's silence, then quite gently he drew his hand away. "I +think I will go and see what mischief the boy is up to." + +She jumped up. "I'll come too." + +He paused, and for a single instant his eyes met Bertrand's. At once the +Frenchman spoke. + +"But, Christine, have you not forgotten your roses? It is growing late, +is it not? And you will be out this afternoon. Permit me to assist you +with them." + +He picked up the basket as he spoke. Chris stopped irresolute. Her +husband was already moving away over the grass. + +"Come!" said Bertrand persuasively. + +Chris turned with a smile and took the basket. "All right, Bertie, let's +go. It is getting late, as you say, and I must get the vases filled." + +They went away together to the rose-garden, and here, after brief +hesitation, Chris voiced her fears. + +"I'm so afraid lest Trevor should ever get really angry with any of the +boys. They won't stand it, you know. And he--I sometimes think he is just +a little hard, don't you?" + +Mordaunt's secretary pondered this proposition with drawn brows. "No," he +said finally, "he is not hard, but he is very honourable." + +Chris laughed aloud. "That sounds just like a French exercise, Bertie. I +don't see what being honourable has to do with it, except that the people +who preen themselves on being honourable are just the ones who can't make +allowances for those who are not. You would think, wouldn't you, that +being good would make people extra kind and forgiving? But it doesn't, +you know. Look at Aunt Philippa!" + +Bertrand's grimace was expressive. "And Aunt Philippa is good, yes?" + +"Frightfully good," said Chris. "I don't suppose she ever told a story in +her life." + +His quick eyes sought hers. "And that--that is to be good?" + +Chris paused an instant, her attention caught by the question. "Why, I +suppose so," she said slowly. "Don't you call that goodness?" + +He spread out his hands. "Me, I think it is the smallest kind of +goodness. One does not lie, one does not steal; but what of that? One +does not roll oneself in the mud. And that is a virtue, that?" + +Chris became keenly interested. "Do go on, Bertie! I had no idea you +thought such a lot. I don't myself--often." + +He laughed, his sudden pleasant laugh that he uttered now so rarely. "But +I am no philosopher," he said. "Simply I think--a little--sometimes. And +to me--to be honourable is no more a virtue than to wash the hands. One +cannot do otherwise and respect oneself." + +"No?" said Chris, a little dubiously. "Then, Bertie, if honour is not +goodness, what is?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Goodness? Bah! There is no goodness without +love." + +"Oh!" Chris's eyes opened wide. "You think--that?" + +He nodded with vehemence. "_Si, cherie_! I think--that; more, I know it. +I know that 'Love is the fulfilling of the law.' One does not need to go +further than that. It is enough, no?" His eyes looked straight into hers; +they were shining with the light that only friendship can kindle. + +She smiled back at him. "I should almost think it is, Bertie. It is +enough for you anyhow, since you believe it." + +"Ah, yes," he said very earnestly. "I believe it, Christine. I should not +be here now--if I did not believe it." + +She puckered her brows a little. "I don't quite know what you mean," she +said. + +He turned from her questioning eyes, pulling his hat down over his own. +"No," he said. "But--you know enough, _ma petite_, you know enough." + +"I sometimes think I don't know anything," she said restlessly. + +He stretched out a hand to her, as one who guides a child. "Ah, +Christine," he said sadly, "but it is better to know the little than the +much." + +"You all say that," said Chris. "I think it is rather a horrid world for +some things, don't you?" + +"But the world is that which we make it," said Bertrand. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ONE OF THE FAMILY + + +"But, my dear chap, what bally rot! Anyone would think I'd never smoked a +pipe or handled a gun before, when I've done both for years." + +Noel Wyndham's smile was the most engaging part of him; it had the knack +of disarming the most wrathful. It had served him many a time in the hour +of retribution, and he never scrupled to make use of it. It was quite his +most valuable asset. + +"Don't be waxy, old chap," he pleaded, slipping an affectionate hand +inside his brother-in-law's unresponsive arm. "I've been having such a +high old time. And I'm not a bloomin' kid. I know what I'm about." + +"All very well," Mordaunt said. "I don't object to anything in reason. +But you are too fond of taking French leave with other people's property. +That gun, for instance--" + +"Oh, that's all right," the boy assured him eagerly. "It kicks most +infernally, but I soon got the trick of it after a bruise or two. I say, +you haven't seen anything of that little devil Cinders? He's gone down a +rabbit-hole. Won't Chris be in a stew?" + +Mordaunt possessed himself of the gun without further argument. "Then +you'd better set to work and find him. Chris is going out this +afternoon." + +"In the motor?" Noel's eyes shone. "I'll go, too. You needn't bother +about Cinders. He always turns up sooner or later. Don't tell Chris, or +she'll spend the rest of the day hunting for him." + +"She will probably want to know," observed Mordaunt. + +"I shall say I never had him," said Noel unconcernedly. "He won't come to +any harm, but you can turn that secretary fellow of yours on to the job +if you're feeling anxious. I say, Trevor, we shan't want the chauffeur. +Tell them, will you?" + +"You certainly won't go without him," Mordaunt rejoined. "And look here, +Noel, you're not to tell lies. Understand?" + +Noel looked up with a flicker of temper in his Irish eyes, "Oh, rats!" he +said. + +"Understand?" Mordaunt repeated. "It's the one thing I won't put up with, +so make up your mind to that." + +He spoke quite temperately, but with unswerving decision. His eyes looked +hard into Noel's, and the boy's spark of resentment went out like an +extinguished match. + +"I say, I like you!" he said with enthusiasm. "You're a regular sport!" + +"Thank you," Mordaunt returned gravely. + +"And what about Chris?" Noel proceeded mischievously. "Isn't she allowed +to tell lies, either?" + +Mordaunt stiffened. "Chris knows better." + +"Oh, does she?" Noel yelled derision. "My dear chap, you'll kill me! Why, +she--she's about the worst of us. I never knew anyone lie quite like +Chris when occasion arises." + +He broke off. Mordaunt had shaken his arm free with an abruptness not far +removed from violence. + +"That's enough," he said sternly. "I don't advise you to say any more +upon that subject." + +"But I assure you it's the truth," Noel protested. "She can look you +straight in the face and swear that black is white till you actually +believe it. I assure you she can." + +He spoke with such naive admiration of the achievement that Trevor +Mordaunt, on the verge of anger, found himself checked suddenly by an +irrepressible desire to laugh. + +Noel saw and seized upon his advantage. "But I daresay she wouldn't to +you. She gets everything she wants without. I must say you're jolly +decent to all of us. I'm sorry I took your gun--didn't know it was one +you particularly valued. I'd get one of my own only I'm so beastly hard +up. I suppose you couldn't lend me a fiver now, could you?" + +He tucked his hand back into Mordaunt's arm persuasively, and smiled his +winning smile. "I'll pay you back--with interest--when I come of age. +That'll be in five years. I wouldn't ask you if I couldn't. But I daresay +Chris can let me have it if you would rather not." + +"No!" Mordaunt said very decidedly. "There must be no borrowing from +Chris. I will give you five pounds if you are wanting it, but not to buy +a gun with, and only on the understanding that for the future you come to +me--and never to Chris--if you chance to be in difficulties." + +"Oh yes, I'll promise that," said Noel readily. "But I don't want you to +make me a present, old chap. I shall pay up some day. You shall have an +I O U." + +"Many thanks! I don't want one." Mordaunt began to smile. "Just keep +straight and tell the truth," he said. "That's all the return I want." + +"Really?" Noel's smile became a grin. "That's awfully decent of you. As a +matter of fact, I don't believe even Chris could manage to deceive you. +You're so beastly shrewd. But we'll call it a bargain if you like. You +won't catch me trying to jockey you after this." + +"Very well," Mordaunt said. "Then, on the strength of that, I want to +know if you have ever had any money from Chris before." + +"Why, of course I have!" Noel seemed surprised by the question. He spoke +with the utmost frankness. + +"How much?" + +Mordaunt's smile had departed. He did not look altogether pleased, but +Noel was quite unimpressed. + +"Oh, goodness knows!" he said lightly. "She has my I O U's." + +"Which she must find very satisfying," remarked Mordaunt. "Now look here, +boy! There must be no more of this. You will have to keep within your +allowance in future." + +"My dear chap, it's all jolly fine--I can't!" protested Noel. "Why, I +only get about twopence-halfpenny a term. It isn't enough to pay a cat's +expenses, besides being always up to the eyes in debt." + +Mordaunt heaved a sigh of resignation. "I suppose I had better look into +your affairs. Write down as clear a statement of your debts as you can, +and let me have it." + +"I say--really?" Noel looked up eagerly. "You're not in earnest?" + +"Yes, I am. And afterwards--you are to keep within your means, or if you +don't I must know the reason why." + +Noel grinned with cheery impudence. "You'll swish me, I suppose, to +improve my morals? Wish I had as many sovereigns as I've had swishings. +They would keep me in clover for a year." + +Mordaunt laughed rather grimly. "I don't waste my time licking hardened +sinners like you. I've something better to do." + +Noel echoed his laugh with keen enjoyment. "You're rather a beast, but I +like you. Have you paid Rupert's debts, too? He is always on the verge of +bankruptcy. Shouldn't wonder if Max is as well, but he keeps his affairs +so dark. I expect he is in the hands of the money-lenders--I know Rupert +was years ago." + +"I don't think he is now," Mordaunt said. + +"Don't you? What's the betting on that? He could no more keep out of +their clutches than he could fly over the moon. I say"--he suddenly burst +into a peal of boyish laughter--"it's the funniest thing on earth to see +you shouldering the family burdens. How you will wish you hadn't! And +that French beggar you've adopted, too, who is safe to rob you sooner or +later! Why don't you start a home for waifs and strays at once? I'll help +you run it. I'll do the accounts." + +Mordaunt laughed, in spite of himself. "Very kind of you! But I think +there are enough of you for the present." + +"All highly satisfactory," grinned Noel. "What a pity you didn't marry +Aunt Philippa, I say! She would have been much more useful to you than +Chris. Never thought of that, I suppose?" + +"Never!" said Mordaunt. + +"Poor old Aunt Phil!" Noel chuckled afresh. "She would have been in her +element if you had only given her the chance. She hates us all like +poison. I suppose you know why?" + +"Haven't an idea," Mordaunt spoke repressively, "unless your general +behaviour has something to do with it." + +"Oh, very likely it has," Noel conceded. "But the chief reason was that +our father diddled her out of a lot of money. He was hard up, and she was +rolling. So he--borrowed a little." He glanced at Mordaunt with a queer +grimace. "Most unfortunately he didn't live to pay it back. I shouldn't +tell anyone this, but I don't mind telling you, as you are one of the +family." + +"And who told you?" Mordaunt inquired. + +"Me? I overheard it." + +"How?" + +The question came sternly, but Noel was sublimely unabashed. + +"The usual way. How does one generally overhear things? I hid behind a +shutter once when Aunt Phil and Murdoch, our man of business, were having +a talk. She pitched it pretty strong, I can tell you. I should have felt +quite sorry for the old girl if I hadn't known that her husband had left +her more than she could possibly know what to do with. As it was, I was +rather glad than otherwise, for she's disgustingly mean over trifles. And +people who can shell out and won't should be made to." + +Mordaunt received this axiom in silence. As a matter of fact he was +somewhat staggered by the information thus airily imparted. But he did +not question the truth of it. He only wondered that he had never +considered such a possibility before. + +Another shout of merriment from the boy at his side made him look round. +"Well? What's the joke?" + +"You!" yelled the youngster, between his paroxysms. "I'm awfully sorry. +You're such a good sort. But I can't help it. I say, Trevor--aren't you +glad just--that you're one of the family?" + +Mordaunt aimed a blow at him that he evaded with ease. "If you don't +behave yourself I shall use the privilege in a fashion you won't care +for," he said, "even if it is a waste of time." + +At which threat Noel confidingly hooked his arm once more through that of +his brother-in-law and begged him in a voice hoarse with laughter to stop +rotting. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISASTER + + +Chris and Noel set off in the motor that afternoon in excellent spirits +to pay the projected call upon Mrs. Pouncefort. + +They found the lady of the house at home, and spent an animated hour with +her; for although she never appeared to welcome her visitors or to exert +herself in any degree to entertain them, most of them seemed to find it +difficult to get away. + +When they departed at length they carried with them an invitation to a +garden _fete_ which had been arranged for the following week. It included +the whole party, to Chris's great satisfaction. + +"It will be the very thing for Bertie," she said. "It is just what he +needs." + +Noel, who entertained a sweeping prejudice against all foreigners, was +inclined to dispute this, and a lively argument ensued in consequence, +which lasted during the greater part of the run home. + +Chris was at the wheel, being a fairly experienced driver by that time, +though Mordaunt was very insistent that she should always have someone +responsible by her side. On this occasion, however, Holmes, who was +acting as chauffeur, had been imperiously relegated to the back seat by +Noel, who intended to have his turn before the end of the ride. He had +driven twice before under his brother-in-law's supervision, and he +considered himself an expert. + +As soon as they were through the lodge-gates, therefore, he began to +clamour to change places with Chris. The worried Holmes protested in +vain. Chris, though firmly refusing to sit behind, was quite willing to +give her place at the wheel to her brother; and the change was speedily +effected, remonstrance notwithstanding. + +"We can't come to any harm on our own drive," was the careless +consolation she threw to the perturbed man behind her, who then and there +solemnly swore to his inner soul that whatever the outcome of the venture +he would never again trust himself or the car to the tender mercies of +the Wyndham family. + +Finding himself thus ignored, he stood up and leaned over the boy's +shoulder to give directions in the face of any sudden emergency that +might arise, though Noel was obviously in no mood to pay any attention to +them. As he remarked later, when recounting the adventure, he knew in his +bones that there was going to be an accident; but the nature of it he +could hardly be expected to foresee. + +In fact, for a brief space all went well. The motor buzzed merrily along +the drive, and it almost seemed as if the escapade would end without +mishap, when, as they rounded the bend that led to the house, Noel +unexpectedly put on speed. They shot forward at a great pace under the +arching trees, and forthwith suddenly came disaster. Swift as a lightning +flash it came--too swift for realization, almost too swift for sight. It +was only a tiny, racing figure that darted for the fraction of a second +in front of the car, and then--with a squeal half-choked--was lost in the +rush of the wheels. It was only Cinders chasing a rabbit which he was +destined never to catch. + +Chris's shriek of agony rang as far as the house. In another moment she +would have thrown herself headlong from the car, but Holmes was too quick +for her. Not in vain had Holmes been through a three-years' war; not in +vain did he hold himself responsible for the young wife of the master +whom that war had taught him to love. Almost before she had sprung from +her seat he had caught her, forcing her down again, holding her by grim +strength from her mad purpose. She struggled with him fiercely, +hysterically; but Holmes's grip never relaxed. She bore the marks of it +upon her arms for weeks after. + +And while he held her, baffling her utmost efforts to free herself, he +was giving directions to Noel, whose nerve had departed completely with +the shock of the catastrophe, giving them over and over again--steadily, +insistently, and very distinctly, till they took effect at last, though +only just in time. + +They were dangerously near the house before, in response to the boy's +frantic efforts, the car slackened and finally, under Holmes's reiterated +directions, ran to a standstill. + +Chris, in a perfect frenzy by that time, wrenched herself free and sprang +down. Her husband, who had rushed from the house at her cry, was close to +her as she reached the ground, but she sped away without so much as +seeing him. + +Back up the drive she tore, back to the shadowing trees, back to the +piteous little blot in the shadow that was the only thing her world +contained in that hour of anguish. + +When they reached her she was sunk on the ground beside her favourite, +crying his name, while he, whimpering, strove to drag his mangled body +into her lap. She tried to lift him, but he yelped so terribly at her +touch that she was forced to let him lie. + +"Oh, Cinders, Cinders!" she cried, in an agony. "My little darling, what +shall I do?" + +Someone stooped over her; a quiet hand lay upon her shoulder. "Chris," it +was her husband's voice, very grave and tender, "come away, dear. You +can't do anything. The poor little chap is past our help." + +She lifted a dazed face, staring uncomprehendingly. + +"Come away," he repeated. + +But when he tried to raise her she resisted him. "And leave him like +this? No, never, never! Oh, Trevor, look--look! He is dying! Can't we do +something--anything? Oh, he never cried like that before!" + +"My dear, there is nothing that you can do." Very gently he made answer. +"He can't possibly live. There is only one thing to be done, and that is +to put him out of his pain as quickly as possible. But I can't do it +with you here. So come away, dear! It's the kindest--in fact, it's the +only--thing you can do." + +"Are you going to--kill him?" gasped Chris in horror. + +He nodded, with compressed lips. "There is no alternative. We can't let +him suffer like this." + +"Oh no, no, no!" Chris cried. + +She would have thrown her arms about her darling, but he stopped her. He +caught her wrists and held her back. + +"Chris, you must not! When animals are hurt they will bite without +knowing what they are doing. Chris, do you hear me? You must go." + +But she would not. "Do you think I would leave him now--when he wants me +most? And as if he would bite me--Cinders--Cinders--who never even +growled at me!" + +She bent over him again, beside herself with grief. Cinders, in the midst +of his pain, tried gently to wag his tail. His brown eyes, faithful, +appealing, full of love, gazed up at her. He had never seen his mistress +in such trouble before, and the instinct to comfort her urged him even +then, in the midst of his own. Again he made piteous efforts to crawl +into her arms, but again he failed, and fell back, whimpering. + +Chris covered her face. It was more than she could bear, and yet she +could not--could not--leave him. + +For a space that might have been minutes or only seconds she was left +alone, tortured but impotent. A dreadful darkness had fallen upon her, a +numbness in which Cinders, suffering and slowly dying, was the only +reality. + +Then again she became conscious of another presence. A quick hand touched +her. A soft voice spoke. + +"Ah, the poor Cinders! And he lives yet! _Cherie_, we will be +kind to him, yes? We cannot make him live, but we will let him die +quick--quick, so that he suffer no more. That is kind, that is merciful, +_n'est-ce-pas_?" + +She turned instinctively in answer to that voice. She held up her hands +to the speaker like a child. "Oh, Bertie," she cried piteously, "is there +nothing to be done? Nothing?" + +"Only that, _cherie_," he made answer, very gently. + +"Then"--she was sobbing terribly, but she suffered his hands to raise +her--"don't let them--send me away, Bertie. I can't go--while he lives. +It--it would hurt him more, if I went." + +"No, no, _cherie_," he answered her reassuringly. "You will be brave, +yes? See, I will hold your hand. We will go just across the road, but +not beyond his sight. He will see you. He will know that you are near. +There--there, _cherie_! Shut your eyes! It will be finished soon." + +He put his arm around her, for she stumbled blindly. They went across the +road as he had said, and halted under the trees on the farther side. + +There followed a pause--an interval that was terrible--during which only +the low crying of an animal in pain was audible. + +Bertrand stood like a rock, still holding her. "But you will not look, +_cherie_," he whispered to her softly. "It is deliverance--this death. +Soon--soon he will not cry any more." + +She pressed her face against his shoulder, wrapped in the close security +of his arms, and waited, drawing each breath with difficulty, saying no +word. + +She did not know what was happening, and she dared not look. She could +only wait in anguish for the whimpering that tore her heart to cease. + +"Now, _cherie_!" whispered Bertrand at last, and she stiffened in his +arms, preparing for she knew not what. + +His hold tightened. For that instant he pressed her hard against his +heart, so that she heard its quick beating. + +The next there came a loud report--a sound that violently rent her +stretched nerves, shattering them as glass is shattered by a stone. She +drooped without sound like a broken flower, and the young Frenchman +gathered her up, just as he had done on the occasion of their first +meeting at Valpre, and bore her away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +GOOD-BYE TO CHILDHOOD + + +Out of the dreadful darkness Chris groped her halting way, saw light, +and, shuddering, closed her eyes again. But at once a voice spoke to her, +soothingly, tenderly, calling her back. + +Reluctantly she responded, reluctantly she returned to full +consciousness, and knew that she was lying fully dressed upon a couch in +the drawing-room. But at sight of her husband's face bending above her +she shuddered again--a painful, convulsive shudder that shook her from +head to foot. + +He laid a quiet hand on her head, but she shrank away. "Please, +Trevor"--she faltered--"please, I want to be alone." + +"Yes, dear," he made gentle reply. "Just drink this first, and I will +leave you." + +But she withdrew herself almost violently; she buried her face deep in +the cushion. "I can't! I can't! Please don't ask me to. I am quite all +right. I only want--to be alone." + +She was shaking all over as one with an ague, and her words were hardly +articulate. He waited a little for her trembling to pass, but it only +increased till her whole body seemed to twitch uncontrollably. At last +with the utmost quietness he stooped and deliberately raised her. + +"Chris, my dear little girl, you mustn't let yourself go like this. I +want you to take this stuff to steady you. Afterwards you will have a +sleep and be better." + +She did not absolutely resist him, but he felt her nervous contraction at +his touch. The face she turned to his was ghastly in its pallor. + +"I--I don't think I can, Trevor," she said, speaking very rapidly. "My +throat won't swallow. It would only choke me. Please--please, if you +don't mind--go away. I shall be all right if--if you will only go." + +"I can't leave you like this," he said. + +"Yes, yes, you can," she answered feverishly. "Oh, what does it matter? +Trevor, I must be alone. I must! I must! Please go!" + +Her agitation was growing with every second, and he saw that he must +yield. He laid her back again without a word, smoothed the cushions, +touched her hair, and softly departed. + +She listened tensely for the closing of the door, relaxing instantly the +moment she heard it. A great darkness descended upon her soul. She lay +motionless, face downwards, too stunned for thought. + +A long time passed. It was growing late. Over the quiet garden the summer +dusk was falling. The swallows were swooping through it in their +multitudes--the swallows that Cinders loved to chase. To-night no cheery, +impudent bark pursued their flight. To-night all was still. + +Did they miss him? she began to wonder dully. Did they ask each other +where he had gone? And then, half-consciously, she began to listen for +him, the scamper of the light feet, the gay jingle of his collar, till in +a moment she almost fancied that she heard him scratching at the door. + +She was half off the sofa before realization stabbed her, and she sank +back numbly into her desolation. + +Again a long time passed--an interval not to be measured by hours or +minutes. The swallows ceased to circle and went to roost. It began to be +dark. And still Chris lay alone, a huddled, motionless figure, prostrate, +crushed, inanimate. Her hands and feet were like ice, but she did not +know it. She was past caring for such trifles. All her abounding vitality +seemed to be arrested, as if her very blood had ceased to circulate. + +It was growing late when the door opened at last. A figure stood a moment +upon the threshold, then entered, moving with a quick, light tread that +might have been the tread of a woman. In the darkness it reached her, +bent over her. + +"_Ah, pauvre petite_!" said a soft voice, a voice so full of compassion +that it thrilled straight to her silent heart and made it beat again. +"All alone with your grief! You permit me to intrude myself, no?" + +She turned and felt up towards him with an icy hand. "Bertie!" she said. +"You--might have come before!" + +He knelt swiftly down beside her, pressing the little trembling fingers +against his neck to give them warmth. "But you are so cold!" he said. +"You must not lie here any more." + +"Why not?" she said dully. "I don't think it matters, does it?" + +"But of course!" he made quick rejoinder. "When you suffer we suffer +also. Also"--he paused an instant--"Mr. Mordaunt awaits you, _petite_. +Will you not go to him?" + +She shivered. "Need I, Bertie? I don't want to." + +It was the cry of a child--a child in distress--plunged for the first +time in the bitter waters of grief, turning instinctively to the friend +of childhood for comfort. "I don't want anyone but you," she said +piteously. "You understand. You loved him--and Trevor didn't." + +"Oh, but, Christine--" Bertrand began. + +"No, he didn't!" she maintained, with sudden vehemence. "I always knew he +didn't. He put up with him for my sake; but he never loved him. He never +noticed his pretty little ways. Once--once"--she began to sob--"it was on +our wedding-day--he slapped him--for chasing a cat! My sweet wee +Cinders!" + +She broke down utterly upon the words, and there followed such a storm of +tears that Bertrand was forced to abandon all attempts to reason with +her, and could only kneel and whisper soft endearments in his own +language, soothing her, comforting her, as though she were indeed the +child she seemed. + +But it was long before she even heard him, not until the paroxysm had +spent itself and she lay passive and utterly exhausted, with her hands +fast clasped in his. + +"You are good to me," she murmured then, and in a moment, "Why, Bertie, +you're crying too!" + +"Ah, pardon me!" he whispered, under his breath. "But to see you in pain, +my little one, my bird of Paradise--" + +"No," she said, a strange note of conviction in her voice, "I shall never +be that any more now that Cinders is gone. I shan't be young like that +any more. I--I shall grow up now, Bertie. I daresay Trevor will like me +the better for it. But you won't, dear. You will be sorry, I know. We've +been playfellows always, haven't we, even though you grew up and I +didn't? Well"--there came a sharp catch in her voice--"we shall both be +grown-up now." + +And then, all in a moment, as if some panic urged her, she started up, +drawing his hands close. "But we'll be friends still, won't we, Bertie? +You won't talk of going away any more, will you? Promise me! Promise me, +Bertie!" + +He hesitated. "It might be better that I should go," he said slowly. "It +is possible that--" + +She interrupted him almost hysterically. "Oh no, no, no! I want you here. +I want you, Bertie, Don't you understand?" + +"But yes," he said. "Only, _petite_--" + +"You will promise, then?" she broke in, as though she had not heard the +last words. "Bertie, I'm so miserable. You--you--wouldn't add to it all!" + +"No, _cherie_, by Heaven, no!" he said, with vehemence. + +"Then you'll stay, Bertie? You will stay?" Very earnestly she besought +him. Her tears were dropping on his hands. "Say you will!" + +For a moment longer he hesitated; he tried to resist her, he tried to +take a sane and temperate view. But those tears were too much for him. +They were the one torture he could not endure. With a sharp gesture he +flung his hesitation from him. Yet even then he left himself a way of +escape lest the temptation should be more than he could bear. + +"I will stay," he made grave reply, "as long as it would make you happy +to have me with you--that is"--he checked himself--"if Mr. Mordaunt +desire it also." + +"But of course he does," said Chris. "He likes you. And I--I can't do +without you, Bertie--not now." + +He heard the desolate note in her voice, and he did not contradict her. +Had he not sworn that while she needed him he would be at hand? + +"_Eh bien_," he said soothingly. "I stay." + +That comforted her somewhat, and presently, at his persuasion, she sat up +and dried her eyes. It was too dark for them to see each other, but she +held his hand very tightly; and there was comfort also in that. + +"Now you will come away from here," he said. "Mr. Mordaunt is very +troubled about you. He would not come to you himself because he thought +that you did not desire him. But that was not true, no?" + +Again that hard shudder went through Chris. She was silent for a little, +them "Oh, Bertie," she whispered, "I wish--I wish--it hadn't been he +who--who--" she broke off--"you know what I mean. You--saw!" + +Yes, he knew. It was what Mordaunt himself had suspected, and loyally he +entered the breach on his friend's behalf. + +"_Cherie_--pardon me--that is not a good wish--not worthy of you. That +which he did was most merciful, most brave, and he did it himself because +he would not trust another. I wish it had been my hand--not his. Then you +would have understood." + +"I almost wish it had been!" whispered Chris; and then, her words +scarcely audible, "But--but do you think--he--knew?" + +"_Le pauvre Cinders_?" Very softly Bertrand spoke the dog's name. "No, +Christine. He did not know. His head was turned the other way. His eyes +regarded only you. And Mr. Mordaunt was so quiet, so steady. He aim his +revolver quite straight, and his hand tremble--no, not once. Oh, believe +me, _petite_, it was better to end it so." + +"Yes, I know, only--only"--convulsively her hands closed upon +his--"Bertie--Bertie--dogs do go to heaven, don't they?" + +"I believe it, Christine." + +"You do really--not just because I want you to?" + +He drew her gently to her feet. "_Cherie_, I believe it, because I know +that all love is eternal, and death is only an incident in eternity. +Where there is love there is no death. Nothing that loves can die. It is +the Divine Spark that nothing can ever quench." + +He spoke with absolute conviction, almost with exultation; and the words +went straight to Chris's heart and stayed there. + +"You do comfort me," she said. + +"I only tell you the truth," he made answer, "as I see it. We do not yet +know the power of Love. We only know that it is the greatest of all. It +is _le bon Dieu_ in the world. And we meet Him everywhere--even in the +heart of a dog." + +"I shall remember that," she said. + +Her hand still clung to his as they groped their way across the room. At +the door for a moment she stayed him. + +"I shall never forget your goodness to me, Bertie, never--never!" she +said, very earnestly. + +"Ah, bah!" he answered quickly. "But we are--pals!" + +And with that he opened the door, almost as if impatient, and made her +pass before him into the hall. + +The lamplight dazzled Chris, and she stood for a moment uncertain. Then, +as her eyes became accustomed to the change, she discovered her husband, +standing a few yards away, looking at her. + +He did not speak, merely held out his hand to her; and she went to him +with a vagrant feeling of reluctance. + +He put his arm about her, looking gravely into her wan face; but she +turned from his scrutiny and leaned her head against his shoulder with a +piteous little murmur of protest. + +"Do you mind if I go to bed, Trevor?" she said, after a moment. "I--I'm +very tired, and I don't want any dinner." + +"You must have something, dear," he made answer, "but have it in bed by +all means. I will bring it up to you in half an hour." + +She made a slight movement which might have meant dissent, but which +remained unexplained. For a little she stood passive, leaning against him +as though she lacked the energy to go, but at length she made a move. +Glancing round, she saw that Bertrand had departed. + +"Where is Noel?" she asked. + +"In his room." + +She looked up sharply, detecting a hint of grimness in his voice. +"Trevor"--she halted a little--"are you--vexed with anybody?" + +His face softened at her tone. "Never mind now, dear," he said. "You are +worn out. Get to bed." + +She put her hand to her head with a weary gesture. "But why--why is Noel +in his room?" + +"Because I sent him there." + +"You!" She stared at him, fully roused from her lethargy. "Trevor! Why?" + +"I will tell you tomorrow," he said, frowning slightly. "I can't have you +upset any more tonight." + +"But, Trevor--" + +"Chris, dear, go to bed," he said firmly. "If I don't find you there in +half an hour, I shall put you there myself." + +"Oh no!" she broke in. "Please don't come up. I shall get on better +alone. And I have to say goodnight to Noel first." + +"I am sorry, dear," he said, "but you can't. Noel is in disgrace, and I +would rather you did not see him to-night." + +"In disgrace! Trevor--why?" + +He put his arm deliberately round her again, and led her to the stairs. + +"Tell me why," she said. + +"I will tell you tomorrow," he repeated. + +But she would not be satisfied. She turned upon the first stair, +confronting him. "Tell me now, please, Trevor." + +He raised his brows at her insistence. + +"Yes," she said in answer, "but I want to know. You don't--you +can't--blame him for--for--" she faltered and bit her lip +desperately--"you know what," she ended under her breath. + +"I do blame him," he answered quietly. "I forbade him strictly to attempt +to drive without someone of experience beside him." + +"Oh!" A sharp note of misgiving sounded in Chris's voice. "You said that +to me too!" she said. + +He looked at her very gravely. "I did." + +"Then--then"--she stretched a hand to the bannisters--"you are angry with +me too?" + +"No, I am not angry with you," he said, and she was conscious of a subtle +softening in his tone. "I am never angry with you, Chris," he said +emphatically. + +"And yet you are angry with Noel," she said. + +"That is different." + +"How--different?" + +He took her hand into his. "Do you know he nearly killed you?" + +She started a little. "Me?" + +He nodded grimly. "Yes. If it had been only himself, it wouldn't have +mattered. But you--you!" + +His arms went out to her suddenly; he caught her to him, held her +passionately close for a moment, then lifted her and began to carry her +upstairs. + +She lay against his breast in quivering silence. It seemed that Cinders +did not matter either so long as she was safe; and though she knew beyond +all question that he was not angry with her, she was none the less +afraid. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LOOKER-ON + + +"I think that it should be remembered that he is young," said Bertrand, +"also that he has been punished enough severely already." + +He leaned back in an easy-chair with a cigarette which he had suffered to +go out between his fingers, and watched Mordaunt pacing up and down. + +Mordaunt made no pretence of smoking. He walked to and fro with his hands +behind him, his brows drawn in thought, his mouth very grim. + +"My good fellow, he will have forgotten all that by to-morrow," he said, +with a faint, hard smile. "I know these Wyndhams." + +"I also," said Bertrand quietly. + +Mordaunt glanced at him. "Well?" + +The Frenchman hesitated momentarily. "I think," he said, "that you will +find them more easy to lead than to drive." + +Mordaunt's frown deepened. "They are all so hopelessly lawless, so +utterly unprincipled. As for lying, this boy at least thinks nothing of +it." + +"Ah, that is detestable, that!" Bertrand said. "But he would not lie to +you unless you made him afraid, _hein_?" + +"He lies whenever it suits his purpose," Mordaunt said. "He would have +lied about the speed of the motor if I would have listened to him. But it +is his disobedience I am dealing with now. If I don't give that boy the +sound thrashing he deserves for defying my orders, he will never obey me +again." + +Bertrand's eyes, very bright and vigilant, opened a little. "But +Christine!" he said. + +"Yes, I know." Mordaunt came to a sudden halt. "Chris also must learn +that when I say a thing I mean it," he said. + +"Without doubt," the Frenchman conceded gravely. "But that is not all +that you want. And surely it would be better to be a little lenient to +her brother than to alienate her confidence from yourself." + +He spoke impressively, so impressively that Mordaunt turned and looked at +him with close attention. Several seconds passed before, very quietly, he +spoke. + +"What makes you say this to me, Bertrand?" + +"Because you are my friend," Bertrand answered. + +"And you think my wife is afraid of me?" + +Bertrand's eyes met his with the utmost directness. "I think that she +might very easily become afraid." + +Mordaunt looked at him for several seconds longer, then deliberately +pulled up a chair, and sat facing him. + +"In Heaven's name, Bertrand, why?" he said. + +Bertrand made a quick gesture, almost as if he would have checked the +question, but when it was uttered he sat in silence. + +"You can't tell me?" Mordaunt said at last. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "If you desire it, I will tell you what I +think." + +"Tell me, then." + +A faint flush rose in Bertrand's face. He contemplated the end of his +cigarette as if he were studying something of interest. "I think, +monsieur," he said at last, "that if you asked more of her, you would +obtain more. She is afraid of you because she does not know you. You +regard her as a child. You are never on a level with her. You are not +enough her friend. Therefore you do not understand her. Therefore she +does not know you. Therefore she is--afraid." + +His eyes darted up to Mordaunt's grave face for an instant, and returned +to the cigarette. + +There followed a silence of some duration. At last very quietly Mordaunt +rose, went to the mantelpiece, helped himself to a cigarette, and began +to search for matches. + +Bertrand sprang up to proffer one of his own. They stood close together +while the flame kindled between them. After a moment their eyes met +through a cloud of smoke. Bertrand's held a tinge of anxiety. + +"I have displeased you, no?" he asked abruptly. + +Mordaunt leaned a friendly hand upon his shoulder. "On the contrary, I am +grateful to you. I believe there is something in what you say. I never +gave you credit for so much perception." + +Bertrand's face cleared. He began to smile--the smile of the rider who +has just cleared a difficult obstacle. + +"You have a proverb in England," he said, "concerning those who watch the +game, that they see more than those who play. Shall we say that it is +thus with me? You and Christine are my very good friends, and I know you +both better than you know each other." + +"I believe you do," Mordaunt said, smiling faintly himself. "Well, I +suppose I must let the youngster off his thrashing for her sake. I wonder +if he has gone to bed." He glanced at the clock. "It's time you went, +anyhow. You are looking fagged to death. Go and sleep as long as you +can." + +He gripped the Frenchman's hand, looking at him with a kindly scrutiny +which Bertrand refused to meet. He never encouraged any reference to his +health. + +"I am all right," he said with emphasis, but he returned the hand-grip +with a warmth that left no doubt as to the cordiality of his feelings. He +was ever too polished a gentleman to be discourteous. + +Left alone, Mordaunt sat down at his writing-table to clear off some work +which he had taken out of his secretary's hands earlier in the day. It +was midnight before he finished, and even then he sat on for a long time +deep in thought. + +It was probably true, what Bertrand had said. Tenderly as he loved his +young wife, he had not succeeded in winning her confidence. There was no +friendship between them in the most intimate sense of the word, and so +she feared him. His love was to her a consuming flame from which she +shrank. Bitterly he admitted the fact, since there was no ignoring it. +She was frightened at the very existence of his passion, restrain it how +he would. She was his and yet not his. She eluded him, even when he held +her in his arms. + +His thoughts travelled backwards, recalling incident after incident, all +pointing to the same thing. And yet he knew that he had been patient with +her. He had held himself in check perpetually. And here again Bertrand's +words recurred to him. If he had asked more, might he not have obtained +more? Was it possible that he had failed to win her because he had not +let her feel the compulsion of his love? Was it perchance his very +restraint that frightened her? Had he indeed asked too little? + +Again his thoughts went back and dwelt upon their wedding-night. He had +kindled some answering flame within her then. She had not attempted to +withhold herself. The memory of her shy surrender swept over him, setting +the blood leaping in his veins anew. She had been his that night, and his +throughout the brief fortnight that followed. They had been very intent +upon the renovations, and no cloud had even shadowed their horizon. How +was it she had slipped away from him since? Was it the advent of that +tempestuous youngster that had caused the change? Undoubtedly Chris was +less a Wyndham when alone with him. Or was there some other cause, +arising possibly from some hidden fluctuation of mood, some restlessness +of the spirit, of which he had had no warning? Her aunt's declaration +that they were all lacking in stability recurred to him. Was it so with +her? Was she fickle, was she changeable, his little Chris? + +Her own words came back to him, uttered with tears upon her wedding-day: +"Don't you often think me silly and fickle? You'll find it more and more, +the more you see of me. You'll be horribly disappointed in me some day." + +He rose abruptly. No, that day had not dawned yet. If she had slipped +away from him, he, and he alone, was to blame. He had not won the +friendship which alone brings trust, and he knew now that he could not +hold her without it. As Bertrand had said, he had not been enough her +friend. Even now she was probably crying herself ill in solitude over the +loss of Cinders. + +The thought quickened him to action. He turned out the light, and went +swiftly from the room. + +Upstairs, outside her door, he stopped to listen, but he heard no sound. +She had cried herself to sleep, then, and he had not been there to +comfort her. His heart smote him. Had she deemed him unsympathetic? She +had seemed to wish to be alone, and for that reason he had left her as +soon as he had satisfied himself that she had all she needed in a +physical sense. She had not wanted him. She had shrunk from his touch. +She had probably seen him go with relief. But--he asked himself the +question with sudden misgiving--would it have been better if he had +ignored her evident desire and stayed? He had feared exhaustion for her +and had avoided any word or action that might have led to a renewal of +her grief. Had he seemed to think too lightly of her sorrow? Had she been +repelled by his very forbearance? + +He passed on softly to his own room. The door that led from this into +hers was ajar. He pushed it a little wider, and looked in. + +It was lighted only by the moon, which threw a flood of radiance through +the wide-flung windows. Every object in the room stood out in strong +relief. Standing motionless in the doorway, Trevor Mordaunt sought and +found his wife. + +She was lying with her face to the moonlight, her hair streaming loose, +the bedclothes pushed off her shoulders. + +And there beside her, curled up in a big easy-chair, his black head +lodged against her pillow, one hand clasped close in hers, lay Noel. Both +had been crying, both were asleep. + +For many seconds Mordaunt stood upon the threshold, gravely watching +them, but he made no movement to draw nearer. At last noiselessly he +withdrew, and closed the door. + +The grimness had all gone from his face. He even smiled a little as he +resigned himself to spending the night in his own room. The idea of +disturbing the brother and sister never crossed his mind. It was enough +for him that Chris had found comfort. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A BARGAIN + + +"Luck!" said Rupert gloomily. "There never is any where I am concerned." + +This in response to a question from his brother-in-law as to the general +progress of his affairs. He sat in Mordaunt's writing-room, with one of +Mordaunt's cigars between his lips, and a decidedly sullen expression on +his good-looking face. + +"I'm sick of everything," he declared. "I'm going to chuck the Army. It's +never done anything for me. There's no chance of active service, and I +loathe garrison work." + +"The only question being, what else are you fit for?" said Mordaunt. + +Rupert threw him a quick look. "I'll be your bailiff, if you like," he +said. "I could do that." + +Mordaunt raised his brows at the suggestion. "That is an idea that never +occurred to me," he remarked. + +"Why not? You want a bailiff, don't you?" + +"A reliable one," said Mordaunt. + +Rupert jumped in his chair as if he had been stung. "What the devil do +you mean?" + +"I mean"--Mordaunt regarded him steadily--"that I shouldn't care to trust +my affairs to a man who can't look after his own." + +Rupert's eyes flashed. "I am not to be trusted, then?" + +Mordaunt continued to regard him, quite unmoved. + +"You had better ask yourself that question, my dear fellow," he said. +"You are better qualified to answer it than I am." + +Rupert relaxed again, dropping back listlessly. "I suppose you are right. +I certainly don't make a great success of things. I believe I should get +on better with you than with anyone else. But if you feel like that about +it, there is no more to be said." + +"You really want to be taken seriously, do you?" Mordaunt said. + +"Of course I do!" Rupert turned towards him again with the lightning +change of mood characteristic of him. "You must forgive me for being a +bit touchy, old chap. It's this infernal thundery weather. May I have +another drink?" He helped himself without waiting for permission. "Of +course I want to be taken seriously. It's a billet that would suit me +down to the ground. I know the place, every inch of it, and, as you know, +I'm fond of it. I would look after your interests as though they were my +own." + +Mordaunt smiled. "But do you look after your own?" + +Rupert clinked some ice into his tumbler, and thoughtfully watched it +float. + +"You've been so jolly decent to me," he said at length, "that I haven't +the face to bother you with my affairs again." + +"I suppose that means you are in difficulties," his brother-in-law +remarked. + +He nodded without looking up. "I'm never out of 'em. It's not my fault. +It's my beastly bad luck." + +"Of course," said Mordaunt dryly. + +Rupert bobbed the ice against his glass and spilt some whisky-and-water +in so doing. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I was born in Queer Street, and I've lived +there all my life. You fellows who are simply rolling in wealth haven't +the smallest notion what it means." + +"What is the good of saying that?" Mordaunt sounded impatient for the +first time. "You know as well as I do that if you had twenty thousand a +year you would spend twice the amount." + +Rupert glanced at him sideways. "Hullo!" he said softly. "Beginning to +size us up, are you?" + +"I'm beginning to think"--Mordaunt spoke with force--"that your sense of +honour is as much a minus quantity as your wealth." + +"Honour!" Rupert looked up in genuine astonishment. + +"Yes, honour," Mordaunt repeated grimly. "Do you call it honourable to +run up debts that you have no possibility of paying?" + +Rupert turned crimson. "Look here! I'm not going to stay here to be +insulted," he said hotly. "I haven't asked for your help, and I'm damned +if I'd take it if you offered it--after that." + +He was on his feet with the words, but Mordaunt remained seated. "You can +do as you like," he said quietly. "If you choose to take offence, that is +your affair. I helped you before because I knew you were hard up and I +was sorry for you. But there is no occasion for you to be hard up now. +And I am not sorry for you this time. I think you deserve to be kicked." + +"You be damned!" said Rupert fiercely. + +Mordaunt's brows went up. He looked full into the boy's heated face, and +though he said no word Rupert turned slowly white under the look. In the +dead silence that followed he stood as tense as though he expected a +blow. Yet Mordaunt made no movement, spoke no word. + +It was Rupert who broke the silence finally, broke it hurriedly, +stammeringly, as though it had become unbearable. "All right, old chap. I +didn't mean quite that. But you--you shouldn't badger me. I'm not used to +it." + +"Sit down," Mordaunt said. + +He obeyed awkwardly, and to cover his discomfiture took up his glass to +drink. But before it reached his lips Mordaunt spoke again. + +"Rupert!" + +He started a little, and again the liquid splashed over. + +"Put that down!" Mordaunt said. + +Again dumbly he obeyed. + +Mordaunt leaned forward and drew the glass out of his reach. "It has +never been my intention to badger you," he said. "But I reserve to myself +the privilege of telling you the truth. That is the fourth drink I have +seen you mix this afternoon." + +"I'm perfectly sober," Rupert asserted quickly. + +"Yes, I know. But you are not as cool as you might be." Very keenly +Mordaunt's eyes surveyed him, but they were not without a hint of +kindness notwithstanding. "I mustn't call you a young fool, I suppose," +he said, "but really you are not overwise. Now, what about these affairs +of yours? Shall we go into them now or after tea?" + +Rupert shrugged his shoulders sullenly. "I don't know that I care to go +into them at all." + +The kindliness went out of Mordaunt's eyes and a certain steeliness took +its place. "As you like," he said. "Only let it be clearly understood +that I will have no borrowing from Chris. I have forbidden her to lend +money to any one of you. If you want it, you must come direct to me." + +Rupert shifted his position, and looked out of the window. Down in the +garden Chris was dispensing tea to three of his brother-subalterns, +assisted by Noel. Bertrand was seated by her side, alert and watchful, +ready at a moment's notice to come to her aid. It was his customary +attitude, and it had been so more than ever since the death of Cinders. +There was a protecting brotherliness about him that Chris found +infinitely comforting: He understood her so perfectly. + +She had not wanted to emerge from her seclusion to entertain her +brother's friends on that sunny Sunday afternoon, but he had gently +persuaded her. A change had come over Chris during the past four days. +The violence of her grief had spent itself on the night that she and Noel +had mingled their tears over the loss of their favourite, and she had not +alluded to it since. She accepted her husband's sympathy with gratitude, +but she shrank so visibly from the smallest allusion to her trouble that +he found no opportunity for expressing it. He would not intrude it upon +her. It was not his way, and she made him aware that for this also she +was grateful. + +But it was plainly from Bertrand that she drew her chief comfort. His +very presence seemed to soothe her. He was just the friend she needed to +help her through her dark hour. + +That she fretted secretly Mordaunt could not doubt, but she was so +zealous to hide all traces of it from him that he never detected them. He +only missed her gay wilfulness and the sunshine of her smile. She +responded to his tenderness even more readily than usual, but she did not +open her heart to him. There seemed to be a barrier intervening that she +could not bring herself to pass. + +In his own mind he set this fact down to a certain feminine +unreasonableness, imagining that she could not forget his share in the +tragedy that had affected her so deeply. He trusted to time to soften the +painful impression, and meanwhile, with his habitual patience, he set +himself to wait till the physical strain had passed and the very +sweetness of her nature should bring her back to him. He knew that all +Bertrand's influence would be exercised in this direction, and his faith +in his young secretary's discretion was considerable. Their brief +conversation on the night of the disaster had rooted it more firmly than +ever. Bertrand was so essentially a man of honour that he trusted him in +all things as he trusted himself. Their code was the same, and their +friendship of the kind that endures for life. If there were one thing on +earth before all others upon which Trevor Mordaunt would have staked his +all, it was this Frenchman's loyalty to himself. He was as staunch as +Chris's brothers were unstable. He believed him to be utterly incapable +of so much as an underhand impulse. And he was content that Chris should +have for friend this man who was so close a friend of his own, upon whose +nobility of character he had come to rely as a power for good that could +not fail to raise her ideals and deepen in her that sense of honour which +was still scarcely more than an undeveloped instinct in her soul. + +His eyes followed Rupert's to the open window. The sound of chaffing +voices rose clearly on the summer air, mingled with the chink of +tea-cups. + +"Shall we go?" Mordaunt said. + +Rupert looked round with a laugh. "Did you see that ass Murphy stand on +his head to drink his tea? It's his pet accomplishment. Yes, all right; +let's go." + +He got up, glanced at the whisky-and-soda on the table, then impulsively +linked his arm in that of his brother-in-law, all his sullenness gone +like a storm-cloud. + +"You're quite right, old fellow. I have had as much of that stuff as is +good for me. Forgive me for being such a bear. I didn't mean it." + +Mordaunt paused. He had never dealt with anyone quite so bewilderingly +changeable before. "I wish I knew how to treat you," he said, after a +moment. + +"Oh, pitch into me! It's the only way." Rupert's smile flashed suddenly +upon him. "I've been an ungrateful brute, and I'm ashamed of myself. +Seriously, Trevor, I'm sorry. I sometimes think to myself it's downright +disgusting the way we all sponge on you. It's deuced good of you to put +up with it." + +Mordaunt still regarded him with close attention. But there was no doubt +in his mind as to the boy's sincerity: he only wondered how long this +contrite mood would last. + +"I am always willing to help you to the best of my ability," he said. +"But I think you might play the game. I can't keep pouring water into a +sieve." + +"It's not to be expected," Rupert agreed. "And I hate asking you for more +money. I'm an absolute cur to do it. But--" he broke off, and pulled his +hand free--"for goodness' sake, man, if you can--just this once--" + +Mordaunt crossed the room to his writing-table, unlocked a drawer, took +out a cheque-book. + +"How much?" + +"I say, you are a good chap!" Rupert protested. "Can you make it a +hundred?" + +"Will that settle everything?" Mordaunt asked. + +"Oh, well--practically everything." + +Mordaunt wrote the cheque in silence. He handed it over his shoulder +finally to the boy behind him. + +"It's for a hundred and fifty. I hope that will see you through. And look +here, Rupert, do for Heaven's sake pull up and keep within bounds. I am +quite willing to help you to a reasonable extent, but you must do your +part, too. You are living at an insane rate. Do you keep an account of +your expenditure?" + +"Of course I don't!" Rupert seemed astonished at the question. "What on +earth would be the good of that? It wouldn't reduce my expenses." + +Mordaunt laid his cheque-book back in the drawer. "And you think you +would make a good bailiff?" he said. + +"Oh, that's different. Of course, you must have accounts for the +management of an estate. You would have no cause to complain of me there. +Are you going to think it over, I say?" + +Mordaunt turned in his chair. "You really wish me to do so?" + +"Rather!" Rupert spoke with enthusiasm. "If you knew how deadly sick I am +of the life I live now!" he added, with strong disgust. "It's beastly +hard work, too, in a sense, and nothing to show for it." + +"I should work you hard myself," Mordaunt observed. + +"I shouldn't mind that. I'd work like a horse here. It's what I've always +wanted to do." + +"And kick like a horse, too, if I ventured to find fault," said Mordaunt, +smiling a little. + +"No, I shouldn't. I'd take it like a lamb. Come, man, I've apologized." + +There was a note of reproach in Rupert's voice. Mordaunt left his +writing-table and faced him squarely. + +"I'll make a bargain with you," he said. "If you can manage to keep +straight between now and Christmas, and you are of the same mind then, I +will take you on. Is it done?" + +Rupert thrust out a hand with a beaming countenance. "Done, old fellow! +And a thousand thanks! I'll do my part somehow if it kills me. Hullo, I +say! There's Chris calling! Hadn't we better go?" + +He was plainly desirous to end the interview, and Mordaunt did not seek +to prolong it. "Come along, then!" he said. And they went out together +arm-in-arm to join the group upon the lawn. + +Two hours later, just before Rupert and his friends started upon their +return journey, Bertrand happened to enter Mordaunt's writing-room, and +was surprised to find the eldest Wyndham standing by the table with a +glass of whisky-and-soda to his lips. + +The surprise was mutual, and on Rupert's side so violent that he dropped +the glass, which shivered upon the floor. He uttered a fierce exclamation +as he recognized the intruder. + +Bertrand was profuse in his apologies. "But I had no idea that there was +anyone here! A thousand pardons, Mr. Wyndham! It was unfortunate--but +very unfortunate. I am come only for Mr. Mordaunt's keys, which he left +here by accident. I will ring for Holmes. He will remove this _debris_. +And you will have another drink, yes?" + +"I can't wait," Rupert said, almost inarticulately. + +He remained standing at the table trying to compose himself, but he was +white to the lips. + +Bertrand regarded him with quick concern. "Ah, but how I have alarmed +you!" he said. "My shoes are of canvas, and they make no sound. Will you, +then, sit down for a moment, while I pour out another glass of whisky?" + +He drew forward a chair with much solicitude, and took up a fresh glass. +But Rupert swung away, turning his back upon him. + +Prom the front of the house came the hoot of the waiting motor. Plainly +his comrades were waxing impatient. + +"But you will drink before you go?" urged the courteous Frenchman. "I am +desolated to have deprived you--" + +Rupert turned his face for an instant over his shoulder. It was no longer +white, but crimson and convulsed with anger. His hands were clenched. + +"Oh, go to the devil!" he cried violently, and with the words stamped +furiously from the room. + +Bertrand was left staring after him, petrified with amazement--too +astounded to be angry. + +At the end of a lengthy pause he turned and pocketed Mordaunt's keys, and +rang the bell for Holmes to clear up the mess on the floor. + +"_Mais ces anglais_!" he murmured to himself, with a whimsical shrug of +the shoulders. "_Comme ils sont droles_!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ENEMY + + +Mrs. Pouncefort's garden-party was an annual affair of some importance to +which everyone, from the County downwards, was bidden, and from which +very few absented themselves. + +The Pouncefort entertainments were generally upon a lavish scale, were +also largely attended by the military element of Sandacre society, and +were invariably described in the local journals as "very smart affairs." + +Had Chris been in her normal spirits she would have hailed the occasion +with delight. She knew a good many people in the neighbourhood, and she +was sure to meet all her friends there. It was, moreover, for this that +she had successfully angled for an invitation for Bertrand. But when the +day came she would have given a good deal for a legitimate excuse for +remaining at home. The weather was hot, and she felt weary and +disinclined for gaiety. + +She said no word of her reluctance, however, for Bertrand had accepted +his inclusion in the invitation with docility, and since she had decided +that a little social change would be good for him, she would not draw +back herself lest he should be tempted to do likewise. + +Bertrand was her chief thought just then. She knew that her husband was +dissatisfied with regard to his health, and undoubtedly he looked far +from well, though he himself invariably declared that it was only the +heat, and persistently refused to see a doctor. Not even Chris could +shake this resolution of his, and he was so distressed when Mordaunt +would not let him work that to keep him quiet Mordaunt was obliged to let +him do a little. He made it as little as he could, however, and Bertrand +spent a good deal of his time in the garden with Chris in consequence. + +It certainly cheered her to have him, and for that reason he was the less +inclined to rebel against the edict that sent him there. They had begun +to read French together, Chris having developed a sudden keenness for the +language which he was delighted to encourage. That the original idea had +been devised for his pleasure he shrewdly suspected, but the carrying out +of it contributed undoubtedly to her own. It occupied her thoughts and +energies, and that was what she needed just then. + +He knew perfectly well that she was as disinclined for social amusements +as he was himself, but the same motive that prompted her urged him also. +Each went with reluctance, but without protest. + +Noel, who had achieved the most saintlike behaviour during the past week, +went also. He made an ingratiating attempt at the last moment to persuade +Mordaunt to let him drive. But Mordaunt was as adamant upon that point. +He had issued a decree that Noel should drive no more during the summer +holidays, and he meant to keep to it. + +The prohibition did not extend to Chris, but she had shuddered at the +bare mention of the motor ever since the accident, and he knew that she +had not the faintest desire left to enlarge her experience in driving. + +She was the last to leave the house on that sultry August afternoon, and +Mordaunt saw at once that the ordeal of entering the car was a severe +one. She even turned so white at the sight of it that he feared a +breakdown. + +"Come and sit with me," he said kindly. + +She looked at him with a quick shake of the head. "No, I'll sit behind +with Bertie if I may. Noel can sit with you." + +Noel, who was already in the back seat, climbed over like a monkey, and +Bertrand handed her in. + +She sat very rigid until they were out of the avenue, and Bertrand was +silent also. But as they turned into the road he began to talk, gently +and persuasively, upon indifferent things, resolutely passing by her +silence until with a wan little smile she managed to respond. + +Long before they reached Sandacre she had quite recovered her +self-command, and the flash of the sea upon the horizon brought from her +a quick exclamation of pleasure. + +"Ah, yes, it is beautiful, that!" he agreed with enthusiasm. "And there +is the sand there, yes?" + +She nodded. "I used to think we'd go and picnic there. But I don't think +I want to now." + +"Next year," suggested Mordaunt, without turning his head. + +"Perhaps," she said, a little dubiously. + +Bertrand said nothing. He was looking out to the wide horizon with a far +look in his eyes, almost as though he saw beyond that sparkling sky-line, +even beyond the sea itself. + +The strains of the military band from Sandacre reached them as they +turned in at the wide-flung gates. Chris's eyes kindled almost in spite +of her. She loved all things military. + +As for Bertrand, he sat bolt upright, with his head back, like a horse +scenting battle. Glancing at him, Chris wondered at his attitude, till +suddenly she recognized the strains of the Marseillaise. + +She squeezed his hand in sympathy as he helped her to alight, and he +looked at her with his quick smile of understanding. He was ever swift to +catch her meaning. + +They crossed a lawn that was crowded with people to a great cedar-tree, +beneath which their hostess was receiving her guests. A large woman with +a lazy smile was Mrs. Pouncefort, and wonderful dark eyes that were +seldom wholly revealed--a woman who took no pains to please and yet whose +charm was undeniable. Her monarchy was absolute and her courtiers many, +but other women looked at her askance, half-conscious of a veiled +antagonism. They were a little afraid of her also, though not one could +have said why, since no bitter word was ever heard to pass her lips. + +She greeted Chris with a cold, limp hand. "So nice of you to come. I hope +you won't be bored. Ah, Mr. Mordaunt, how is Kellerton Old Park by this +time? I hardly recognized it the day I called. Rupert tells me you have +worked wonders inside as well as out." + +"May I introduce our friend Monsieur Bertrand?" said Chris. + +Bertrand brought his heels together and bowed low over the limp hand +transferred to his. Mrs. Pouncefort smiled. + +"There is a fellow-countryman of yours here. Where has he gone? Ah, there +you are! Captain Rodolphe, let me introduce you to Mrs. Mordaunt and her +French friend Monsieur Bertrand." + +She extended one finger to Noel while making the introduction, and at +once turned her attention elsewhere. + +Chris found herself face to face with a heavy-browed man with an +overbearing demeanour and a mouth and chin that sneered perpetually +behind a waxed moustache and imperial. She stared at him for an instant +with a bewildered feeling of having seen him somewhere before. Then, as +she returned his bow, a stab of recognition pierced her, and she +remembered where. + +It flashed into her mind like a picture thrown upon a screen--that scene +upon the sands of Valpre long, long ago, two men fighting with swords +that gleamed in the sunlight, a child drawing near with wondering eyes to +behold the conflict, and an unruly black terrier scampering to end it! + +"I am delighted to make your acquaintance," declared Captain Rodolphe, +"and that of your friend--M. Bertrand?" + +He uttered the name interrogatively. Bertrand bowed very slightly, very +stiffly, and was instantly erect again. "That is my name," he said, as he +looked the other straight in the eyes. + +Captain Rodolphe was smiling. "I think we have not met before? It is +always a pleasure to meet a fellow-countryman in a strange land. That is +well understood, is it not, Mrs. Mordaunt?" + +His smooth speech brought her back to a situation that was not without +serious difficulties, difficulties which he for one was apparently +determined to ignore. Had he recognized her, she wondered? It seemed +probable that he had not. But then there was nothing in his manner to +indicate that he had recognized Bertrand either; yet of that there could +be no doubt. + +She heard her husband speaking to an acquaintance behind her, and +instinctively she began to move away from him. She did not feel equal to +effecting an introduction. She murmured something conventional about the +gardens, and Captain Rodolphe at once accompanied her. + +Bertrand walked in silence on her other side till, with an obvious +effort, Chris included him in the conversation, when he responded +instantly, with that ready ease of manner which had first drawn her to +rely upon him. But though he showed himself quite willing, as ever, to +help her, he did not once on his own initiative address the man who had +been introduced for his benefit; and Chris, aware of an atmosphere that +was highly charged with electricity, notwithstanding its apparent calm, +began to cast about for a means of escape therefrom. + +To rid herself of Captain Rodolphe was her first idea, but this was +easier of thought than accomplishment. He was chatting serenely, in +perfect English, and seemed to have taken upon himself the congenial task +of entertaining her for some time to come. He also did not directly +address her companion, unless she brought them into contact, and her +efforts in this direction very speedily flagged. She could not expect two +men, however courteous, to forget all in a moment the bitter enmity of +years merely to oblige her. They were quite ready to ignore it in her +presence, but the consciousness of it was more than Chris could endure +with equanimity. It disconcerted her at every turn. She felt as if she +trod the edge of a volcano, and her nerves, which had been so severely +strained for the past week, could not face this fresh ordeal. + +She turned at last in desperation, almost appealingly, to Bertrand. She +knew he would understand. Had he ever failed her in this respect or in +any other? + +"Do you mind going to see if I have dropped my handkerchief in the car?" +she asked him, with a nervous smile. + +His smile answered hers. Yes, he understood. "I shall go with pleasure," +he said, and with a quick bow was gone. + +Chris breathed a little sigh of relief, and moved on with her escort into +the rose-garden. + +He seemed scarcely aware of Bertrand's departure. He was plainly +engrossed in the pleasant pastime of conversing with her. Chris began to +give him more of her attention. No, she certainly did not like the man. +His sneer and his self-assurance disturbed her. He made her uncomfortably +conscious of her own youth and inexperience. She almost felt as if he +were playing with her. + +He talked at some length upon roses, a subject upon which he seemed to be +well informed, listened tolerantly to any remarks she made, and finally +conducted her to a long shrubbery that led back to the lawn. + +As they entered this, he lightly wound up the thread of his discourse and +broke it off. "I have been wondering for long," he said, "where it was +that I had seen you before. Now I remember." + +She turned a startled face towards him. He was smiling with extreme +complacence, but there was to her something sinister, something even +threatening, about the bushy brows that shadowed his gleaming eyes. He +put her in mind of a carrion-crow searching for treasures on a heap of +refuse. + +The impulse to deny all knowledge of him seized her--a blind impulse, +blindly followed. "I think you must be mistaken," she said. + +"How?" he ejaculated. "You do not remember Valpre--and what happened +there?" + +She saw her mistake on the instant, and hastened to cover it. "Valpre!" +she said, frowning a little. "Yes, I remember Valpre, though it is years +since I was there. But you--did I meet you at Valpre, Captain Rodolphe?" + +He bowed with a gallantry that seemed to her exaggerated. "Only once, +madame, but that once was enough to stamp you ineffaceably upon my +memory. It was, in fact, a memorable occasion. And I forget--never!" +Again with _empressement_ he bowed. "And still you do not remember me?" +he said. + +There was a mocking glint in his eyes. It was as though with a smile he +weighed her resistance, displaying it to herself as a quantity wholly +negligible. + +"I think you begin to remember now," he suggested. + +And quite suddenly Chris saw what he had with subtlety set about teaching +her, that to attempt to fence with him was useless. + +"Yes, I remember," she said, and there was a hint of most unwonted malice +in her capitulation. "Didn't I see you wounded in a duel?" + +He smiled, and she saw his teeth. "If my memory be correct it was to +madame herself that I owed that wound." + +She felt the quick blood rush to her face. He had spoken with _double +entendre_, but she did not perceive it until too late. She only +remembered suddenly and overwhelmingly that the duel had been fought on +her account, because of some evil word which this man had spoken of her +in Bertrand's hearing. She could well believe it of him--the sneering +laugh, the light allusion, the hateful insinuation underlying it. She +was beginning to look upon the evil of the world with comprehending +eyes--she, Chris, the gay of heart, the happy bird of Bertrand's paradise +whom no evil had ever touched. And though she shrank from it as one +dreading pollution, she dared not turn her back. + +He went on with more daring mockery, still with lips that smiled. "Ah! I +see you remember. That duel was an affair of interest to you, _hein_? You +were--the woman in the case." + +He leered at her intolerably, twisting his moustache. + +But that was more than Chris could endure. He had taken her by surprise +indeed, but he should not see her routed thus easily. She lifted her +dainty head and confronted him with pride. + +"Whatever the cause of the duel," she said very distinctly, "it was no +concern of mine, and it was by the merest accident that I witnessed it. +But in any case it is not a matter of sufficient importance to discuss +now. Shall we go on?" + +She put the question abruptly, with a little inward tremor, for the path +was narrow and he had come to a stand immediately in front of her. He +made a slight movement as if deprecating the obligation to detain her. +His eyes were suddenly very evil and so intent that she could not avoid +them. Yet still he smiled as though the situation amused him. + +"But you joke!" he protested, with a snap of the fingers. "I did not +suggest that it could be a matter of importance. It was all a +_bagatelle_, a fairy-tale, that should not have had so serious an end. +And your husband--he has heard the fairy-tale also? Or was it not of +sufficient importance to recount to him?" + +She would have turned from him at that, even though it had meant +ignominious flight, but his eyes held her, and she dared not. She could +only stand motionless, feeling her very heart grow cold. + +Softly, jeeringly, he went on, still toying with the moustache that did +not hide his smiling lips. "You have not told him yet? Ah! but it would +amuse him. That night you passed with the fairies, a siren among the +sirens, has he never heard of that? But you should tell him that! Or was +it perhaps only a joke _a deux_, and not _a trois_? I have heard that the +English husband can be strict, and you have found it so to your cost, +_hein_?" + +Her eyes blazed at the insult. For the first time in her life Chris was +so possessed by fury as to be actually sublime. She drew herself to her +full height. She met his mockery fearlessly, and, with a royal disregard +of consequences, she trod it underfoot. + +"Captain Rodolphe, be good enough to let me pass!" + +He stood aside instantly. He was even momentarily abashed. He had not +expected his game to end thus. She had seemed such an easy prey, this +English girl. Her discomfiture had been almost too obvious. He certainly +had not deemed her capable of this display of spirit. + +Yet in a moment, even as, erect and disdainful, she passed him by, he was +smiling again, a secret, subtle smile which she felt rather than saw. +Emerging into the hot sunshine that beat upon the crowded lawn, she knew +herself to be cold from head to foot. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE THIN END + + +"Good-bye!" said Mrs. Pouncefort. "So glad you came. I hope you haven't +been bored." + +"Bored to extinction," murmured Noel. "Hi, Trevor! Let me drive, like a +good chap. Do!" + +"Certainly not," said Mordaunt, with decision. "You are going to sit +behind. We shall meet the wind now, and Chris must come in front; it is +more sheltered." + +Chris submitted to this arrangement in silence. She was looking very +tired. Her husband regarded her keenly as he tucked her in, but he said +nothing. + +"What do you think of Mrs. Pouncefort's latest?" grinned Noel, as they +spun along the high-road. "I never met such a facetious brute in my life. +How did you like him, Bertrand?" + +"Who?" said Bertrand somewhat curtly. + +"What did they call him--Rodolphe, wasn't it? That French chap with the +beastly little beard." + +"I did not like him," said Bertrand, with precision. + +"That's all right," said Noel approvingly. "But he's reigning favourite +with Mrs. Pouncefort, anyone can see with half an eye. Rum, isn't it? +And little Pouncefort puts up with it like a lamb. But they say he's +just as bad. Daresay he is, though he's quite a decent little beggar to +talk to. I can't stand Mrs. Pouncefort at any price, while as for that +Frenchman"--he made a hideous grimace--"I'm glad you are not all alike, +Bertrand!" + +Bertrand responded to the compliment without elation. He seemed +preoccupied, and Noel, finding him uninteresting, turned his cheerful +attention elsewhere. + +Letters awaited them upon their return. Chris took up hers with scarcely +a glance, and went up to her room. + +Her husband, following a little later, found her sitting on a couch by +the window, perusing them. She glanced up at his entrance. + +"I have a letter from Aunt Philippa. She thinks we must be quite settled +by this time, and she wants to spend a day or two here next week, before +she goes to Scotland." + +"I suppose we can put up with her for a day or two," said Mordaunt. + +Her smile was slightly strained as she returned to the letter. "I suppose +we shall have to." + +He came and stood beside her, looking down at her bent head. The +burnished hair shone warmly golden in the evening sunlight. He laid a +quiet hand upon it. She started at his touch, and then sat very still. + +"I have heard from Hilda too," she said, after a moment. "They are +staying at Graysdale. Percy fishes all day and she sketches, when they +are not motoring. It was very sweet of her to write by return." + +A tear fell suddenly upon the open page. She covered it hastily with her +hand. Her husband's pressed her head very tenderly. + +"Chris," he said gently, "I wonder if you would like to go away for a +little?" + +She glanced up quickly, eagerly, with wet lashes. "Oh, Trevor!" she +breathed. + +He sat down beside her on the couch. "We will go to-morrow if you like," +he said. + +She slipped her hand into his. "I should love it!" + +"Would you?" he said. "I have been thinking of it for some days, but I +wasn't sure you would care for the idea." + +"But your work?" she said. "Those articles you wanted to finish? And that +political book of yours? And the alterations in the north wing, will they +be able to get on with those with you away?" + +"The literary work must stand over for a week or two," he said. "I shall +leave Bertrand in charge of the rest." + +"Bertrand!" She opened her blue eyes wide. "But--but he would be away, +wouldn't he?" Then quickly: "He would go with us, of course? You didn't +mean to leave him behind?" + +He raised his brows ever so slightly. "I meant just us two, dear," he +said. "Wouldn't you care for that?" + +"Oh!" said Chris blankly. "But, Trevor, we couldn't possibly leave him. +He isn't well. I--I shouldn't be happy about him. Besides--besides--" Her +words faltered under his straight look; she made a little appealing +gesture towards him. "Please understand," she said. + +He took both her hands into his. "My dear, I do understand," he said, +with the utmost kindness. "But I think he can be trusted to take care of +himself for a little while. If you have any doubts upon the subject, ask +him." + +She shook her head. "No, it wouldn't do. I--I'd really rather not go away +if it means--that. Besides, there is Noel. And next week there will be +Aunt Philippa. I think we had better give up the idea, Trevor; I do +really, anyhow for the present." She leaned nearer to him; her eyes +looked pleadingly into his. "Say you don't mind," she begged him, a +little tremulously. + +"I am only thinking of you, dear," he answered. + +She smiled with lips that quivered. "Well, don't think of me--at least, +not too much. I only want you just to be kind to me, that's all. I--I +shall be myself presently. You're very good to be so patient." + +Her lips were lifted to his. He bent and kissed her. But as he went +gravely away she had a feeling that she had disappointed him, and her +heart grew a little heavier in consequence. + +The sound of the piano in the drawing-room brought her down earlier than +usual for dinner, and she found Bertrand playing softly to himself in the +twilight. He had a delicate touch, and she always loved to hear him. + +She had with difficulty trained him not to spring up at her entrance, but +to-day he turned sharply round. + +"Christine, what did that _scelerat_ say to you?" + +The abruptness of his speech did not disconcert her. She was never ill at +ease with Bertrand, however sudden his mood. She came to the piano, and +stood facing him in the dusk. + +"He recognized me," she said. + +"Ah!" Bertrand's exclamation was deep in his throat, like the growl of an +angry dog. "And he said--?" + +Chris hesitated. + +Instantly his manner changed. He stretched out a quick hand. "Pardon my +impatience! You will tell me what he said?" + +Yet still she hesitated. His impetuosity had warned her to go warily if +she would not have him embroiling himself in another quarrel for her +sake. + +"It doesn't matter much, does it?" she said, rather wearily. "I wasn't +with him very long--no longer than I could help. He was objectionable, of +course, but that sort of man couldn't be anything else, could he?" + +"Tell me what he said," insisted Bertrand inexorably. + +But still she hedged, trying to temper his wrath. "He didn't tell me +anything new. I have known--for some time now--why you fought that duel." + +"Ah! You know that? But how?" + +She smiled wanly. "You forget I'm growing up, Bertie." + +He winced at that suddenly and sharply, but he made no verbal protest. +Only in the silence that followed there was something passionate, +something which she never remembered to have encountered before in her +dealings with him. + +At the end of a long pause he spoke, with obvious constraint. "And you +will not tell me what he said?" + +"Is it worth while?" said Chris. "I daresay we shall never see him +again." + +"He insulted you, no?" said Bertrand. + +She yielded, half-involuntarily, to his persistence. "He made +some--rather horrid--insinuations. He spoke of the duel and of what +happened at Valpre. And he asked--he asked if--Trevor knew." + +A fierce oath burst headlong from Bertrand, the first she had ever heard +him utter. He apologized for it instantly, almost in the same breath, but +she was startled by the violence of it none the less, so startled that +she decided then and there that, if she would keep the peace between him +and his enemy, she must confide in him no further. + +"But that was really all," she hastened to assure him. "I left him then, +and--and I think we had better forget it, Bertie. Promise me you will." + +He took the persuasive hand she laid upon his arm, but for several +seconds he did not speak. It seemed as if he could not trust himself to +do so. + +At last, "Christine," he said, "I think that your husband ought to know." + +She started at the words, almost snatching her hand from him. "Bertie! +What do you mean? Know of what?" + +He answered her with great steadiness; his eyes met hers unwaveringly. +"Of that which happened at Valpre," he said. + +She gazed at him in growing consternation. "Bertie, how--are you +mad?--how could I tell him that?" + +"With your permission, I will tell him," he said resolutely. + +But she cried out at that, almost as if he had hurt her: "Oh no, no, +never! Why should he know now? Don't you see how impossible it is? If I +had ever meant to tell him, it ought to have been long ago." + +"Yes," said Bertrand. + +The quietness of his tone only agitated her still further. His evident +determination terrified her. In that moment all her fear of her husband +rose to towering proportions, a monster she dared not even contemplate. +She clasped Bertrand's arm between her hands in wild, unreasoning +supplication. + +"Oh, you must not--you shall not! Bertie, you won't, will you? Promise +me you won't--promise me! He wouldn't understand. He would want to know +why I had never told him before. He would--he would--" + +"Ah! but I would explain," Bertrand protested gently. + +"But you couldn't! He would ask questions--questions I couldn't possibly +answer. If he didn't say them he would look them. And his eyes are so +terribly keen. They frighten me. They see--everything." + +"But, _cherie_," he reasoned, "they could not see what is not there. You +have nothing to hide from him. You have no shame. Why, then, have you +fear?" + +"I don't know," gasped Chris. "Only I know that he would never +understand. He would think--he would think--" + +"He would think that we have been--pals--for as long as we have known +each other," said Bertrand soothingly. "He knows it already. It is true, +is it not?" + +But Chris's eyes had been opened too suddenly and tragically. Her sense +of proportion was still undeveloped. "Yes, but he would never see it. You +could never explain to him so that he would understand. He would think I +had been deceiving him. He would think--Bertie, he would think"--her eyes +dilated, and she drew in her breath sharply--"that--that you and I ought +not to be friends any longer. Oh, don't tell him--please don't tell him. +Indeed I am right. He trusts you, and--and he trusts me. But he wouldn't +trust either of us any longer if he knew." + +"Christine! Christine!" + +"It is true," she asserted feverishly. "You don't know him as I do. Oh +no, he has never been hard to me. But he could be hard. And he wouldn't +forgive me--if he thought I had been hiding anything. Bertie, Bertie, you +won't do it? Say you won't do it!" + +"I do nothing without your consent," Bertrand answered quietly. "But I +think that it is a mistake. I think--" + +"Oh, thank you!" she broke in earnestly. "I know I can rely upon you to +keep your word. I can, can't I?" + +He smiled at a question which he would have borne from no other. "Until +death, Christine," he said. + +Her hands fell away from his arm. She was shaking all over. "I know I'm +foolish," she said. "I can't help it. I was made so. And when Trevor +begins to ask questions--" She broke off nervously. "What is that?" + +A leisurely footfall sounded in the hall, a quiet hand pressed the +electric switch by the door, and the room was flooded with light. + +"Oh, don't!" Chris cried out sharply. "Don't!" + +She put her hands over her face as if dazzled, and so stood quivering. + +"What is it?" Mordaunt asked. "Did I startle you?" + +He came to her. He drew her hands gently down. But she almost cowered +before him, and he let her go. + +"I think that she is tired," Bertrand said, his voice very low. + +"Is that all?" Mordaunt asked, looking at him. + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders, and made no reply. But Chris turned +at the question, turned and confronted her husband with wide, scared +eyes. + +"Yes, I am tired," she said, speaking jerkily, breathlessly. "But--but I +was startled too. I--I thought I heard Cinders--barking." + +It was the first time she had ever deliberately lied to him, and her eyes +met his full as she did it in desperate self-defence. + +He looked at her very steadily for the space of several seconds after she +had spoken, and in the silence Bertrand's hands clenched hard. + +Quietly at length Mordaunt turned round to him. "Don't let me interrupt +you," he said. "You were playing, weren't you? Chris and I are good +listeners." + +He took his wife's cold hand, and drew her to the sofa; and Bertrand, +seeing there was nothing else to be done, turned back to the piano and +resumed his playing. + +Not another word was spoken by any of them until Noel came upon the +scene, and airily dispelled the silence before he was aware of it. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ENEMY MOVES + + +"And you mean to say that this French secretary of Trevor's actually +lives in the house?" said Aunt Philippa. + +"But of course he does," said Chris, opening her eyes wide. + +"And is Trevor never away?" demanded Aunt Philippa. + +"He hasn't been, but he talks of spending a night in town next week." + +"And you will go with him?" + +"No, I don't think so. It's too hot." + +"Then I presume M. Bertrand will?" + +Chris flushed a little. "I don't suppose so. He is feeling the heat too." +She stretched up her hands above her head. "How I wish it would rain!" + +Aunt Philippa continued her knitting severely in silence. They were +sitting on the terrace awaiting the luncheon-hour. Across the garden came +Noel's shrill whistle, and instinctively, before she remembered her +aunt's presence, Chris answered it. The boy appeared at the farther end +of the long lawn, and came racing towards them. + +"Just seen the postman, Chris. Here's a letter for you--such a horrible +fist, Sandacre post-mark, and sealed. Wonder who it's from?" + +He leaned against her chair to recover his breath and regarded the +envelope he held with frank interest. + +Chris stretched up her hand for it. "I expect it's from Mrs. Pouncefort." + +"Mrs. Pouncefort doesn't write like that!" protested Noel. "No woman +could." + +"May I have it?" said Chris. + +He put it into her hand, but he still leaned against her chair. "Be quick +and open it, I say! It looks important." + +"I don't suppose it is," said Chris; but she opened it notwithstanding +with some curiosity. + +Aunt Philippa had arrived only the night before, but she was already very +tired of her society, and any diversion was welcome. + +"You don't mind?" she murmured to her aunt. + +Her eyes were already upon the first page as she spoke. She frowned over +the unfamiliar handwriting. + +Noel studied it also over her shoulder. "What on earth--" he began. + +She looked up suddenly, and crumpled the paper in her hand. "Noel, go +away! How dare you!" + +He stared at her in amazement. A sharp word from Chris was most unusual. +Aunt Philippa looked up also. + +"My dear girl, it isn't private, is it?" said Noel. + +Chris was scarlet. She seemed to breathe with difficulty. "Of course it's +private! All my letters are private!" + +"But it comes from the Pounceforts," objected Noel. "I saw 'Sandacre +Court' at the top of the page." + +Chris sprang to her feet impetuously with blazing eyes. "And what if it +does? You had no right to look over me. It was a hateful thing to do. +What if it does come from Mrs. Pouncefort? Is it mine any the less for +that?" + +"Oh, don't get huffy!" remonstrated Noel. "Look at you! Anyone would +think you had got the palsy. But you needn't pretend it's from Mrs. +Pouncefort, because I know better." + +"It--it is from Mrs. Pouncefort!" declared Chris. + +"Which is a lie," rejoined Noel, with the utmost calmness. "I know you, +my dear girl, I know you. You've told 'em before." + +"Noel!" Aunt Philippa interposed her voice with extreme dignity. "You +forget yourself. If you cannot speak with ordinary courtesy, be good +enough to leave us." + +Noel heeded the remonstrance no more than if it had been the buzzing of a +fly. Chris's spark of temper had kindled his. + +"Oh, you can swear it's the truth till all's blue," he declared, raising +his voice recklessly. "But that doesn't make it so. In fact, it only +makes the contrary all the more likely. Besides, you know you do lie, +Chris, so you needn't deny it." + +"Noel!" + +It was not Aunt Philippa's voice this time, and it had in it so firm a +note of authority that instinctively Noel turned. + +Mordaunt, just returned from a ride, was standing in his shirt-sleeves at +an open window above them. All the colour went out of Chris's face at +sight of him, but he did not look at her. + +"Come up here," he said to Noel. "I want to speak to you." + +"Not coming," said Noel promptly. + +"Come up here," Mordaunt repeated. + +"What for?" Noel looked up at him, hands in pockets. "You'll be late for +lunch if you don't buck up," he remarked, with a smile of cheery +impudence. + +His brother-in-law's face did not reflect his smile. It was grimly +determined. "Come up here," he said again. + +"Do go, Noel," Chris murmured uneasily. + +"I won't," said Noel doggedly. "I'm not going to be pitched into for +nothing. It was you who told the lie, not me." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" exclaimed Chris, in a fever of impatience. "Surely +you're not afraid of him!" + +"Anyone can see you are," retorted Noel. "I'll bet you daren't go +yourself!" + +She turned from him sharply without another word, and entered the house. + +She met her husband on the threshold of his room, and pushed him +impulsively back, her hands against his breast. + +"Trevor, please don't be angry with him. He--we often go on like that. +There is nothing to be angry about--indeed." + +He took her hands and held them. She was panting a little; he waited +while she recovered herself. Then, "Chris," he said very gently, "don't +you think it is time you left off being afraid of me?" + +"But when you are angry--" murmured Chris. + +"You have never seen me angry yet." + +"You are not angry with Noel?" she asked quickly. + +He smiled a little. "My dear child, Noel is no more capable of making me +angry than that fly on the ceiling. But I am not going to have him +behaving badly for all that." + +"But he didn't," she urged, in distress. "It was all my fault. +Trevor--Trevor, please don't say any more! He was quite right. I--I +didn't tell the truth." + +She made the confession in a broken whisper, with her face hidden against +him. But a moment later she had sprung away in haste, for there came the +clatter of careless feet upon the stairs, and Noel dashed suddenly upon +the scene. + +"Oh, I say, do stop jawing and come down," he said as he presented +himself. "Poor Aunt Phil is ravenous for her lunch. What do you want me +for, Trevor?" + +But Mordaunt turned his back abruptly. "I don't want you now," he said. +"You can go." + +"Dash it!" Noel said. "What a rotter you are!" He flung himself full +length upon the window-seat with elaborate nonchalance. "Run along, +Chris," he said. "We're going to talk politics. Shut the door after you. +That's right. Now, my good brother-in-law, what can I do for you?" + +He sat up to slay a wasp on the window-pane, flicked the corpse in +Mordaunt's direction with airy adroitness, and lay down again. + +"Are you in a wax over anything?" he inquired, with a yawn. + +Mordaunt turned quietly round. "Get up!" he said. + +Noel laughed up at him engagingly. "You can't kick me so easily lying +down, can you? But what do you want to kick me for? I'm quite harmless." + +"I am not going to kick you," Mordaunt said. "It is not my way." + +"All right, then. Why didn't you say so before?" Noel sat up and regarded +him with interest. "Well?" he said at the end of an expectant pause. +"Let's have it, man, and have done!" + +"I have nothing to give you," Mordaunt returned. "I told you you could +go." + +Something in the tone rather than the words caught Noel's attention. He +bounced suddenly from his lounging attitude to Mordaunt's side, and +thrust an affectionate arm about his shoulders. + +"What's the matter, old chap? You look as if you had found sixpence and +lost half a crown." + +"Perhaps I have," Mordaunt returned grimly. + +He did not repulse the friendly overture; that also was not his way. But +neither did he respond to it. He stood passive, looking out over the park +with unobservant eyes. + +"Cheer up, I say," urged Noel. "You're such a rattling good chap, you +know. I'm getting awfully fond of you." + +"Much obliged," said Mordaunt; but he did not seem highly gratified. In +fact, his thoughts were plainly elsewhere. + +Noel, however, would not be satisfied with this. "What are you grizzling +about?" he said. "Tell a fellow!" + +Mordaunt's eyes came down to him. "I wish you Wyndhams had a little sense +of honour," he said. + +"Oh, is that it?" said Noel. "Well, we are not top-heavy in that respect, +I own. But, after all, it's not worth worrying about. We get on very +nicely without it. And we wouldn't any of us sell a friend." + +"I'm glad to know you draw the line somewhere," Mordaunt observed. + +"Oh, rather! I wouldn't chouse you for the world. Chris wouldn't either. +But we're both shy of you, you know, because you're so beastly moral." He +gave his brother-in-law a warm hug to soften the effect of his words. +"You may as well tell me what you wanted to say to me just now," he +remarked. + +"I was going to request you to behave like a gentleman," Mordaunt +returned. "But as you don't seem to know what that means--" He paused, +looking straight into the Irish eyes that met his with such sublime +assurance. "Do you know what it means, Noel?" he asked. + +Noel grinned. "You can take me in hand and teach me if it isn't too much +trouble. I suppose you didn't like me to tell Chris she was lying about +that letter. But she was, you know. There's no getting away from that +fact, even if she is your wife." + +"I'm not trying to get away from facts," Mordaunt said. "But I do +object--strongly--to discourtesy. You may be her brother, but that +doesn't entitle you to insult her. Plainly, I won't have it from you or +anyone." + +"I didn't insult her," declared Noel. "I only said I knew she was telling +a cram. She knew it too." + +"I know what you said," Mordaunt returned with brevity. "And you are not +to say it again. Also, I must ask you to bear in mind that when I say a +thing I mean it--invariably. I've had more than enough disobedience from +you lately." + +"Oh, I say," said Noel, winking gaily, "you don't want much, do you?" + +Mordaunt relaxed a little. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder for a +moment. "You can be quite a good chap if you try," he said. + +Noel responded like a dog to a caress. "The mischief is to keep it up," +he said. "But we won't quarrel anyhow. I'll make every allowance for you, +old boy, for you're in a beastly unhealthy position; and you'll have to +do the same--savvy? But for all that, that letter was no more written by +Mrs. Pouncefort than by the man in the moon." + +"That letter," Mordaunt said very deliberately, "is neither your affair +nor mine." + +Could he have seen Chris at that moment he might have changed his mind +upon that point, but her young brother's careless chatter kept him from +seeking her; nor would he very readily have found her had he done so. + +For Chris was securely locked in a little room at the top of the house +that had been her childhood's bedroom, and here with blanched face and +hands that shook she was reading and reading again the letter that had +given rise to so much discussion. + +The handwriting was cramped and erratic, wholly unfamiliar, barely +decipherable; but she had mastered the contents with tragic dexterity. +Her understanding had leaped to the words. + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR MRS. MORDAUNT," so went the letter, "You have probably forgotten +my existence by this time, and it is with the utmost humility that I +venture to recall it to your memory. For myself, it will always be a +lasting pleasure to have met you again, and the fact that I share with +you a secret of other days cannot but prove a bond between us. That +secret I am prepared to guard faithfully, since--apparently--it is of +value, if you on your part are ready to purchase my discretion with that +of which all have need, but of which I temporarily am unhappily +deficient. Briefly, madame, for the sum of five hundred pounds I will +undertake that the episode of Valpre shall be consigned to oblivion so +far as I am concerned. Otherwise, the strict husband may hear more than +you have considered it convenient to tell him. + +"Yours, with many compliments, +GUILLAUME RODOLPHE." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A WARNING VOICE + + +Five hundred pounds! Five hundred pounds! It represented her year's +income to Chris. + +All night long she lay wide-eyed and still, facing her problem with a +quaking heart. It was like a suffocating weight upon her, crushing her +down. Five hundred pounds! And the need thereof so urgent that it must be +dealt with at once! But how to obtain it? How? How? + +All through the dark hours she lay revolving the matter, questioning this +way and that, bound hand and foot, yet not daring to contemplate the only +sane means at her disposal of obtaining freedom. To tell her husband the +simple truth, to throw herself unreservedly upon his generosity, to beg +his forgiveness and his help--these were the things she could not do. As +a matter of fact the truth had been so magnified by her fevered fancy +that it had begun to appear monstrous even in her own eyes. Those far-off +happenings at Valpre had become a dream with a nightmare ending. Not even +Aunt Philippa could have distorted them to a more exaggerated semblance +of evil. And to go to her husband now with such a story was utterly +beyond Chris's powers of accomplishment. She lacked the courage to speak +with simplicity and candour, and she was painfully aware that to give a +halting account of the matter would be infinitely more dangerous than to +keep silence. Already her husband's faith in her veracity had been +shaken. Was it likely that he would accept unquestioning her assurance +that this matter, which she had rigorously suppressed for so long and +which she only imparted to him now under compulsion, was in reality one +of trivial importance? Would he believe her? Had she ever fostered his +belief in her? Could he in reason do so even if he desired? + +Moreover, there was another obstacle. There was Bertrand. Though he had +offered to speak for her, though he had desired to explain all, and +though she knew that Trevor's faith in him was absolute, yet the presence +of Bertrand in itself made candour impossible. Why this should be she did +not know. It was a problem which she had not attempted to solve. But the +fact remained. She dreaded unspeakably the possibility of having to +describe the intimacy that had existed between herself and Bertrand in +the old, free, Valpre days. She dreaded the keen searching of the grey +eyes that, if they sought long enough, were bound to find her soul, and +not only to find, but to enter it, to penetrate to its most hidden +corner, and to draw out into the full light of day one of her most sacred +possessions. She felt that she could not bear this probing. The very +thought of it was horrible to her, and in connection with it the steady +scrutiny of her husband's eyes became almost a thing abhorrent. Vaguely +she knew, without realizing, that she cherished deep in that inmost +shrine something which he must never see, something that it would be +agony to show him, something that even now gnawed secretly at her +quivering heart. She always shrank from his direct look, though she would +not have him know it. The calm, level gaze frightened her, she knew not +why. Perhaps the secret of all her fear of him lay hidden in this problem +that she dared not face. + +No, she could not endure a full revelation of the truth. Bertrand had +declared that Mordaunt could not discover what was non-existent, but it +was not this that Chris feared. It was something infinitely more +terrible, a floating suspicion that might harden into actual fact at any +moment. + +And so her whole being was concentrated upon avoiding the catastrophe +that instinct warned her to be impending. Everything hung upon the +keeping of that secret which once had seemed to her so small a thing. It +had grown to mighty proportions of late. She did not ask herself +wherefore; but once in the night she smiled a piteous little smile at the +recollection of Manon, the maid-of-all-work, and her story of the spell +that bound all who entered the Magic Cave. She remembered how she had +laughed over it; but Bertrand had not laughed. He had been quite grave; +she remembered that also. He had even spoken as if he believed in it. For +a little her thoughts dwelt upon that night, on the quick confidences he +had poured out, on her own consternation over the nature of his +enterprise, on the words he had uttered then to comfort her. She had +never given them much thought before. To-night, lying by her husband's +side, they returned to her, and for the first time she pondered them +seriously. He had dismissed ambition and success, even the strife of +nations, at a breath. He had been able to do so even then, when he was +nearing the summit of his aspirations. "What are they?" he had said. +"Only a procession that marches under the windows, only a dream in the +midst of a great Reality." + +What had he meant by that? she asked herself, and searched her memory +for more. It came with a curious vividness, a winged message, straight +and sure as an arrow. "We look out above them," he had said, "you and +I"--suddenly she heard the very thrill of his voice, and it pierced her +through and through--"to the great heaven and the sun; and we know that +that is life--the Spark Eternal that nothing can ever quench." Chris did +not ask herself the meaning of that. She hid it away in her heart, +quickly, quickly, lest seeing she should also understand. + +It was very early in the morning when she slipped out of bed, and crept +to the open window to watch the stars fade into the dawning. She would +have liked to pray, but no prayer occurred to her. And so she knelt quite +passive, gazing forth over the dim garden, too tired to think any longer, +yet too miserable to sleep. She did not know that her husband's eyes +gravely watched her throughout her vigil, and when presently she lay down +again she still believed him to be sleeping. + +In the morning inspiration came to Chris. She believed Rupert to be out +of debt, thanks to Trevor's generosity. She would get him to raise the +money for her. She knew he must have ways and means of so doing which +were quite beyond her reach. At least, it seemed her only resource, and +she would try it. + +"Are you quite well, Chris?" her husband asked her when he rose at an +early hour, as was his custom. + +"Quite," said Chris. "Why?" + +She looked at him nervously with heavy-lidded eyes. + +He bent to kiss her before leaving the room. "Don't get up yet," he said +kindly. "Stay in bed and have a sleep." + +"But I--I have slept," she stammered. + +He put the hair gently back from her forehead. "I know all about it," he +said. + +She started away from him in sheer panic. "About what?" she gasped, in a +whisper; then, seeing his brows go up, "Oh, Trevor, I--I'm sorry. No, I +haven't slept very well. But--" + +"I thought not," he interposed quietly. "Well, sleep now, dear." + +He turned to go, but impulsively she caught his hand, held it a moment, +then suddenly put it to her lips. But she would not look at him, would +not even raise her eyes again; and he, after the briefest pause, withdrew +his hand, touched her cheek with it lightly, and so left her. + +When they met again at the breakfast-table she was discussing with Aunt +Philippa the best means of spending the day. Bertrand was not present. He +usually took chocolate at that hour in Mordaunt's room, where he could +continue his secretarial work uninterrupted. Noel was not yet down. + +Chris turned at once to address her husband. "I have had a line +from Max. He is coming down for a few days I think he hasn't been +well--overworking, he says." + +"I can scarcely believe," said Aunt Philippa, with her acid smile, "that +a Wyndham could ever suffer from that complaint." + +"They don't over-rest, anyhow," said Mordaunt, with a glance at his +wife's tired face. "I shall be very pleased to see him, Chris. Write and +tell him so." + +"I don't think I need write," she said. "He will be here this +afternoon. Shall I ask Rupert to come over and dine, so that we can all +be together--that is, if Aunt Philippa doesn't mind?" + +"Pray do not consider me," said Aunt Philippa. + +"Do exactly as you like," said Mordaunt quietly. "Rupert is always +welcome so far as I am concerned." + +Chris rose from the table as he sat down. "I will send him a note at once +if I may, or I shall miss the post." + +"Have you had any breakfast?" he asked, detaining her as she passed his +chair. + +"None at all," said Aunt Philippa. + +"Oh, Aunt Philippa, I have, indeed!" protested Chris, colouring vividly. +"Besides, I'm not hungry." + +"Besides!" echoed Mordaunt, faintly smiling. "Drink a cup of hot milk +before you go." + +She made a wry face. "I can't. I hate it. Please don't keep me!" + +"Then do as you are told," he said. "I thought I ordered you to stay in +bed." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" said Chris; but she went back to her place and +poured out the milk as he desired. + +"Now drink it," he said, with his eyes upon her. + +She obeyed him without further protest, finally setting the cup down with +a sigh of relief. + +Mordaunt rose to open the door. "You are not to do anything energetic +to-day," he said. + +She threw him a smile, half-shy, half-wistful, and departed without +replying. + +He turned back into the room and sat down. "I am not quite satisfied +about Chris," he said. + +"Neither am I," said Aunt Philippa, with unexpected severity. + +He looked at her with awakened attention. "No?" he said courteously. + +"No." Very decidedly came Aunt Philippa's reply. "I intended to speak to +you upon the subject, my dear Trevor, and I am glad that an early +opportunity for so doing has presented itself." + +"You think she looks ill?" Mordaunt asked. + +"Not at all," said Aunt Philippa. "The intense heat we have had lately is +quite sufficient to account for her jaded looks. She has probably also +been fretting unreasonably over the death of her dog. I believe that +animal was the only thing in the world she ever really cared for." + +Mordaunt rested his chin on his hand, and looked at her thoughtfully. +"Indeed!" he said. + +Neither his voice nor his face expressed anything whatever beyond a +decorous gravity. Aunt Philippa began to feel slightly exasperated. + +"She will get over that," she said, with a confidence that held more of +contempt than tolerance. "None of the Wyndhams are fundamentally capable +of taking anything seriously for long. You must have discovered their +instability for yourself by this time." + +"Not with respect to Chris." Was there a hint of sternness underlying the +placidity of the rejoinder? There might have been, but Aunt Philippa was +too intent upon the matter she had taken in hand to notice it. + +"Oh, well," she said, "you haven't been married six weeks yet, have you? +You will see what I mean sooner or later. But you may take it from me +that all of them--Chris included--are without an atom of solidity in +their composition. I warn you, Trevor, very seriously; they are not to be +depended upon." + +Mordaunt heard her without changing his position. His eyes looked +straight at her from under lids that never stirred. "Is that what you +have to say to me?" he asked, after a moment. + +"It leads to what I have to say," returned Aunt Philippa with dignity. + +She was quite in her element now, and enjoying herself far too thoroughly +to be lightly disconcerted. + +"Pray finish!" he said. + +That gave her momentary pause. "I am speaking solely for your welfare," +she told him. + +"I do not question it," he returned. + +Yet even she was aware that his stillness was not all the outcome of +courteous attention. There was about it a restraint which made itself +felt, as it were, in spite of him, a dominance which she set down to his +forceful personality. + +"The subject upon which I chiefly desire to speak a word of warning," she +said, "is the presence in the house--the constant presence--of your young +French secretary." + +"Yes?" said Mordaunt. + +He betrayed no surprise, but the word fell curtly, as if he found himself +face to face with an unpleasant task and desired to be through with it as +quickly as possible. + +Aunt Philippa proceeded with just a hint of caution. "My dear Trevor, +surely you are aware of the danger!" + +"What danger?" + +A difficult question, which Aunt Philippa answered with diplomacy. "Chris +was always something of a flirt." + +"Indeed!" said Mordaunt again. + +His manner was so non-committal that Aunt Philippa began to lose her +patience. "I should have thought that fact was patent to everyone." + +"Never to me," said Chris's husband very deliberately. + +Aunt Philippa smiled. "Then you are remarkably blind, my dear Trevor. +Flightiness has been her chief characteristic all her life. If you have +not yet found that out, I fear she must be deceitful as well." + +"I am not discussing my wife's character," Mordaunt made answer very +steadily. + +"You prefer to shut your eyes to the obvious," said Aunt Philippa, +beginning to be aware of something formidable in her path but not quite +grasping its magnitude. + +"I prefer my own estimate of her to that of anyone else," he made quiet +reply. + +Aunt Philippa made a slight gesture of uneasiness. The steady gaze was +becoming a hard thing to meet. Had the man been less phlegmatic, she +could almost have imagined him to be in a white heat of anger. He was so +unnaturally quiet, his whole being concentrated, as it were, in a +composure that she could not but feel to be ominous. + +It was with an effort that the woman who sat facing him resumed her +self-appointed task. "That I can well understand," she said. "But even +so, I think you should bear in mind that Chris is young--and frail. You +are not justified in exposing her to temptation." + +"As how?" + +Aunt Philippa hesitated for the first time in actual perturbation. + +Mordaunt waited immovably. + +"I think," she said at length, "that you would be very ill-advised if you +went to town and left her here--thrown entirely upon her own resources." + +"May I ask if you are still referring to my secretary?" he said. + +She bent her head. "I have never approved of her being upon such intimate +terms with him. She treats him as if--as if--" + +"As if he were her brother," said Mordaunt quietly. "I do the same. I +have many friends, but he is the one man in the world who possesses my +entire confidence. For that reason I foster their friendship, for I know +it to be a good thing. For that reason, if I were dying, I would +confidently leave her in his care." + +"My dear Trevor, the man has bewitched you!" protested Aunt Philippa. + +His eyes fell away from her at last, and she was conscious of distinct +relief, mingled with a most unwonted tinge of humiliation. + +"I am obliged to you," he said formally, "for taking the trouble to warn +me. But you need never do so again. Believe me, I am not blind; and Chris +is safe in my care." + +He rose with the words, and went to the sideboard for his breakfast. Here +he remained for some time with his back turned, but when he finally came +back to the table there was no trace of even suppressed agitation about +him. + +He sat down and began to eat with a perfectly normal demeanour. The +silence, however, remained unbroken until Noel burst tempestuously into +the room. No silence ever outlasted his appearance. + +He flung his arms round his brother-in-law and embraced him warmly, with +a friendly, "Hullo, you greedy beggar! Hope you haven't gobbled up +everything! I'm confoundedly hungry. Morning, Aunt Philippa! I suppose +you fed long ago? It's a disgusting habit, isn't it? But one we can't +dispense with at present. Where's Chris?" + +"Chris," said Aunt Philippa icily, "has already breakfasted, and so have +I." + +She moved towards the door as she spoke. Noel sprang with alacrity to +open it, and bowed to the floor behind her retreating form. + +"She looks like a dying duck in a thunderstorm," he observed, as he +returned to the table. "What have you been doing to her? Has there been a +thunderstorm?" + +Mordaunt met his inquiring eyes without a smile. "Noel," he said, "if you +can't be courteous to your aunt and your sister, I won't have you at the +table at all--or in the house for that matter." + +Noel uttered a long whistle. "I thought I smelt the reek of battle in the +air! What's up? Anything exciting?" + +"Do you understand me?" Mordaunt said, sticking to his point. + +Noel broke into smiles. "Oh, perfectly, my dear chap! You're as simple as +the Book of Common Prayer. But it would be a pity to kick me out of the +house, you know. You'd miss me--horribly." + +Mordaunt leaned back in his chair. "Then I'll give you a sound caning +instead." + +Noel nodded vigorous approval. "Much more suitable. I like you better +every day. So does Chris. I believe she'll be in love with you before +long." + +"Really?" said Mordaunt. + +"Yes, really." Noel was munching complacently between his words. "I never +thought you'd do it. The odds were dead against you. She only married you +to get away from Aunt Philippa. Of course you know that?" + +"Really?" Mordaunt said again. He was not apparently paying much +attention to the boy's chatter. + +"Yes, really," Noel reiterated, with a grin. "It's solid, simple, sordid +fact. The only chap she ever seriously cared about was a little beast of +a Frenchman she chummed up with years ago at Valpre. I never met the +beggar myself, but I'm sure he was a beast. But I'll bet she'd have +married him if she'd had the chance. They were as thick as thieves." + +At this point Mordaunt opened the morning paper with a bored expression, +and straightway immersed himself in its contents. + +Noel turned his attention to his breakfast, which he dispatched with +astonishing rapidity, finally remarking, as he rose: "But you never can +tell what a woman will do when it comes to the point--unless she's a +suffragette, in which case she may be safely relied on to make a howling +donkey of herself for all time." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A BROKEN REED + + +"But, my good girl, five hundred pounds!" Rupert looked down at his +sister with an expression half-humorous, half-dismayed. "What do you +think I'm made of?" he inquired. + +She stood before him, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. "I +must have it! I must have it!" she said piteously. "I thought you might +be able to raise it on something." + +"But not on nothing," said Rupert. + +"I would pay it back," she urged. "I could begin to pay back almost at +once." + +"Why on earth don't you ask Trevor for it?" he said. "He's the proper +person to go to." + +"Oh, I know," she answered. "And so I would for anything else, but not +for this--not for this! He would ask questions, questions I couldn't +possibly answer. And--oh, I couldn't--I couldn't!" + +"What have you been up to?" said Rupert curiously. + +"Nothing--nothing whatever. I've done nothing wrong." Chris almost wrung +her hands in her agitation. "But I can't tell you or anyone what I want +it for. Oh, Rupert, you will help me! I know you will!" + +"Steady!" said Rupert. "Don't get hysterical, my child. That won't serve +anybody's turn. I suppose you've been extravagant, and daren't own up. +Trevor is a bit of a Tartar, I own. But five hundred pounds! It's utterly +beyond my reach." + +"Couldn't you borrow it from someone?" pleaded Chris. "Rupert, it's only +for a time. I'll pay back a little every month. And you have so many +friends." + +Rupert made a grimace. "All of whom know me far too well to lend me +money. No, that cock won't fight. I've a hundred debts of my own waiting +to be settled. Trevor wasn't disposed to be over-generous the last time I +approached him. At least, he was generous, but he wasn't particularly +encouraging. He's such a rum beggar, and I have my own reasons for not +wanting to go to him again at present." + +"Of course you couldn't go to him for this," said Chris. "But--Rupert, if +you could only help me in this matter, I would do all I could for you. I +would give you every farthing I could spare, indeed--indeed. I might even +ask him for a little later on--not yet, of course, but by and bye, if I +saw an opportunity. Oh, you don't know what it means to me--how much +depends upon it." + +"Why don't you tell me?" Rupert asked. + +"Because I can't--I daren't!" Chris laid imploring hands upon his +shoulders; her eyes besought him. "Dear Rupert, it isn't that I don't +trust you. Don't think that! But it wouldn't do any good if you knew, and +I simply can't talk about it. I've shown how much I trust you by asking +you to help me out of my trouble. There is no one else in the world that +I could ask--not even Max. He would make me tell him everything. But you +won't, dear; I know you won't, will you?" + +It was impossible not to be moved by her earnest pleading. Rupert slipped +an arm around her. "You needn't be afraid of me," he said. + +"I know I needn't," she answered, laying her cheek against him with a +quick gesture of confidence. "And I am of everyone else--even of Bertie. +It's absurd, isn't it? Fancy being afraid of Bertie!" She smiled through +tears. + +"He doesn't know, then?" said Rupert. + +"Bertie? No, no, of course not! I wouldn't have him know for the world. +He would go and do--something desperate." Chris's startled eyes testified +to her dread of this contingency. "No, I haven't dared to tell anyone, +except you. If you can't help me, there's no one left. I--I shall run +away and drown myself." + +"Oh, nonsense!" said Rupert. "There's a way out of every difficulty if +one has the wit to find it. Keep cool, my dear girl! If you let yourself +go, you will give your own show away." + +"I know! I know!" gasped Chris. "But what can I do? It would kill me if +Trevor knew!" + +Rupert's arm tightened protectingly about her. At least they stood by +each other, these Wyndhams. "Then Trevor mustn't know," he rejoined. +"I'll manage it somehow if it's humanly possible. You must let me think +it over. And in the meantime, for goodness' sake, keep cool. If Trevor +were to see you now, he would know there was something up directly." + +As a matter of fact, he himself had never seen his sister so agitated +before. She was like a terrified bird in a trap. What on earth had she +been doing? he wondered. What made her go in such abject fear of her +husband that the very mention of his name was enough to send every +vestige of colour from her face? + +He grasped her trembling fingers reassuringly. "There! Leave it to me," +he said. "I'll find a way out, never fear. I've been in a good many tight +corners in my time, but I've always wriggled out somehow. I suppose you +want the money soon?" + +"At once," said Chris. + +He made a grimace, as of one swallowing a nauseous draught. "All right, +you shall have it. Now, don't worry any more. It's going to be all +right." He patted her shoulder kindly. "Only, for Heaven's sake, don't do +it again!" + +She shivered, and turned away to hide her quivering lips. "If--if you can +get me the money this once," she said, "I--I'll never ask you again, and +I'll give you every farthing--every farthing--" + +"My dear child, I don't want your farthings," responded Rupert cheerily. +"If you can make it fifty pounds now, I shall be quite grateful. But I'll +get you yours first, never mind how. Now, hadn't we better go back to the +rest? Aunt Philippa will be wondering what we are conspiring about. By +the way, when does she depart?" + +"Soon, I hope," said Chris fervently. + +He grinned. "Had enough of her, eh? So, I should imagine, has Trevor. He +is keener on giving advice than taking it, if I know anything about him." + +"She wouldn't dare to give Trevor advice," protested Chris. + +"Ho! wouldn't she?" He laughed derisively, as they turned to leave the +little room in the roof that was her refuge, but paused at the door to +slip his arm through hers. "You're not to worry, young 'un," he said, +with a patronage that did not veil concern. "Do you know you're looking +downright ill?" + +She smiled up at him wistfully. "Things have been pretty horrid lately. +But I won't worry any more if--if you tell me I needn't." + +"You needn't," he said, and impulsively he stooped and kissed her. He had +always had a protecting tenderness for his little sister. + +They descended to the drawing-room to find Aunt Philippa writing letters +in solitary state. The rest of the company, with the exception of +Mordaunt, who was at work in his own room, were in the billiard-room just +beyond, and Chris and Rupert repaired thither, relieved to make their +escape so easily. + +They found Bertrand, who was an expert player, making a long break. He +was playing against Max, whose opinion of him was obviously rising with +this display of skill. + +He was engaged upon a most difficult stroke when Chris entered, and she +stopped behind him lest she should disturb his aim. But he turned round +at once to her, leaving the balls untouched. + +"_Mais non_!" he declared lightly. "I cannot play with my back to my +hostess. It is an affair _tres difficile_, and I must have everything in +my favour." + +"Oh, don't let me spoil your luck!" she said. + +She came and stood at the end of the table to watch him. + +"That would not be possible," he protested, as he applied himself again +to the ball. + +He achieved the stroke with that finish and dexterity that marked all he +did. + +"Oh, I say!" said Noel disgustedly. "You haven't a look-in, Max. He plays +like a machine." + +"You like not to be beaten by a Frenchman, no?" laughed Bertrand. "_Il +faut que les anglais soient toujours, toujours les premiers, hein_?" He +stopped suddenly, for Chris had made the faintest movement, as if his +words had touched some chord of memory. He flashed her a swift look, and +the smile died out of his face. He moved round the table, and again +stooped to his stroke. "But what is success after all," he said, "and +what is failure?" + +"You ought to know," Max observed dryly, as again he made his point. + +The Frenchman straightened himself. There was something of kinship +between these two, a tacit sympathy that had taken root on the night of +Chris's birthday, an understanding that called for no explanation. + +"Yes," he said, with a quick nod, "I know them both. They are worth +just--that." He snapped his fingers in the air. "They pass like"--he +hesitated a moment, then ended with deliberation--"like pictures in the +sand." + +"The same remark applies to most things," said Rupert. + +Bertrand glanced at him. "To all but one, monsieur," he said, in a queer +tone that was almost tinged with irony. + +Again he bent himself to a stroke with a quick, light grace, as though he +regarded success as a foregone conclusion. + +"Look at that!" said Noel in dejection, as the ball cannoned triumphantly +down the table. "The gods are all on his side." + +The stroke was a brilliant one, but Bertrand did not immediately +straighten himself as before. He remained leaning across the table, as if +he watched the effect of his skill. + +There was a brief pause before very carefully he laid his cue upon the +cloth and began to raise himself, slowly, with infinite caution, using +both hands. + +"No," he said, speaking jerkily, in a rapid undertone, as if to himself. +"The gods--are no more--on my side." + +A sharp gasp escaped him. He stood up, and they saw the sweat running +down his forehead. "Will you--excuse me for a moment?" he said. "I +have--forgotten _quelque chose_." + +He turned towards Chris with punctilious courtesy, clicked his heels +together, bowed, and walked stiffly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A MAN OF HONOUR + + +An amazed silence followed his exit; then, in a quick whisper, Chris +spoke. + +"He isn't well. I'm sure he isn't well. Did you see--his face--when he +stood up?" + +She turned with the words as if she would go after him, but Max checked +her sharply. "No, you stay here. I'm going." + +She paused irresolute. "Let me come too." + +"Don't be silly," said Max. He frowned at her scared face for a moment, +then smiled abruptly. "Don't be silly!" he said again. He passed down the +room with what seemed to her maddening deliberation, opened the door, and +went quietly out. + +Aunt Philippa was still busy with her correspondence in the drawing-room. +She glanced up as he went through. "Can you tell me what time the evening +post goes out? I have just asked M. Bertrand, but he did not see fit to +answer me." + +"Then he couldn't have heard you," said Max. "The post goes out at +nine-thirty." + +"Ah! Then perhaps you would wait a moment while I direct this envelope, +and you can then give it to a servant with orders to take it to the +post-office at once." + +Max drew his red brows together and waited. + +The scratching of Aunt Philippa's pen filled in the pause. She directed +her envelope, blotted it with care, stamped it with precision, finally +handed it to her nephew with the request, "Please remember that it is +important." + +Max received it with reverence. "I shall treat it with the utmost +veneration," he said. He knew that his aunt had a strong dislike for him, +and he fostered it with much enjoyment upon every possible occasion. + +He slipped the letter into his pocket as he left the room and promptly +dismissed it from his mind. + +He turned aside into the dining-room, rummaged for brandy and found it, +and went with noiseless speed upstairs. + +The door of Bertrand's room was unlatched, and he pushed it open without +ceremony. Blank darkness met him on the threshold, but a sound within +told him the room was tenanted. He switched on the light without delay, +entered, and shut the door. + +He found Bertrand seated huddled on the edge of his bed, gasping horribly +for breath. He did not apparently hear Max enter. His close-cropped head +was bowed upon his arms. His hands were opening and closing convulsively. +He rocked to and fro almost with violence, but no sound beyond his +spasmodic breathing escaped him. + +Max set down the brandy and took him by the shoulders. "Look here," he +said, "lie down. I'll help you." + +Bertrand started a little at his touch, and Max had a glimpse of his +tortured face as he glanced up. "_Fermez la porte_!" he said, in a choked +whisper. + +The door was already shut. Max wheeled and turned the key. "Now!" he +said. + +He stooped over the Frenchman, and with the utmost care lifted him back +on to the pillows, unfastened his collar, then turned to fling the +windows as wide as they would go. The night air, fragrant with rain, blew +in, rustling the curtains. Bertrand turned his face towards it +instinctively. His lips were blue; they worked painfully, as if, between +his gasping, he were still trying to speak. + +"Keep still!" Max said. + +He mixed some brandy and water, and returning, slipped his arm under the +pillow. "Don't exert yourself," he said. "I'll do it all." + +Very steadily he held the glass for Bertrand to drink. He could take but +very little at a time, so agonized was his struggle for breath. Max +waited through each pause, closely watching the drawn face, never missing +his opportunity. And gradually that little took effect. The anguish died +out of Bertrand's eyes, and he lay still. + +Max slipped his arm from beneath the pillow and stood up. "Don't move," +he said. "You're getting better." + +"You--will stay--with me?" whispered Bertrand. + +"Yes." + +He drew up a chair, and sat down, took the Frenchman's wrist between his +fingers, and so remained for a long time. + +Bertrand lay with closed eyes, his breathing still short and occasionally +difficult, but no longer agonized. + +There came the sound of flying feet along the corridor, and an impatient +hand hammered on the door. + +"Hullo, Bertrand! Are you all right? Chris wants to know," shouted a +boyish voice. + +Bertrand started violently, and a quiver of pain went through him. He +fixed his eyes imploringly on Max, who instantly rose to the occasion. + +"Of course he's all right. You clear out! We're busy." + +"What are you doing?" Keen curiosity sounded in Noel's voice. + +"Never mind! We don't want you," came the brotherly rejoinder. + +"But I say--" + +"Clear out!" ordered Max. "Go and tell Chris that Bertrand is writing a +letter to catch the post; which reminds me," he added grimly, "you can +also tell Holmes to come and fetch it in a quarter of an hour. Don't +forget now. It's important." + +He pulled the letter entrusted to his keeping from his pocket and tossed +it on to the table. + +Noel departed, and with an effort Bertrand spoke. + +"But that was not the truth." + +"Near enough," responded the second Wyndham complacently. "That is, if +you don't want everyone to know." + +Bertrand's brows contracted. "No--no! I would not that your sister should +know, or Mr. Mordaunt." + +"They will have to sooner or later," observed Max. + +"Then--let it be later," murmured Bertrand. + +Again there fell a silence, during which he seemed to be collecting his +strength, for when he spoke again it was with more firmness. + +"Mr. Wyndham!" + +"All right, you can call me Max. I'm listening," said Max. + +Bertrand faintly smiled. That touch of good-fellowship pleased him. Young +as he was, this boy somehow made him feel that he understood many things. + +"Then, Max," he said, "I think that you know already that which I am +going to say to you. However, it is better to say it. It is not possible +that I shall live very long." + +He paused, but Max said nothing. He sat, still holding Bertrand's wrist, +his gaze upon the opposite wall. + +"You knew it, no?" Bertrand questioned. + +"I suspected it," Max said. He turned slightly and looked at the man upon +the bed. "This isn't your first attack," he said. + +Bertrand shuddered irrepressibly. "Nor my second," he said. + +"I can give you something to ease the pain," Max said. "But if you're +wise you will consult a doctor." + +Again a faint smile flickered over Bertrand's face. "I am not enough +wise," he said, "to desire to prolong my life under these conditions." + +"I should say the same myself," observed Max somewhat curtly. + +He offered no further advice, but sat on, waiting apparently for further +developments. + +After a little Bertrand proceeded. "I have known now for some time that +this malady was incurable. I think that I would not have it otherwise, +for I am very tired. I am old too--much older than even you can +comprehend. I have undergone the suffering of a lifetime, and I am too +tired to suffer much more. But--look you, Max--I do not want to make +suffer those my friends whom I shall leave behind. That is why I pray +that the end may come quick--quick. And, till then--I will bear my pain +alone." + +"And if you can't?" said Max. "If it gets too much for you?" + +"The good God will give me strength," the Frenchman said steadfastly. + +Max shrugged his shoulders. "It's your affair, not mine. But I don't see +why you shouldn't tell Trevor. He will be hurt by and bye if you don't." + +But Bertrand instantly negatived the suggestion. "He is already +much--much too good to me. I cannot--I will not--be further indebted to +him. My services are almost nominal now. Also"--he paused--"if I tell +him, I cannot remain here longer, and--I have made a promise that for the +present I will remain." + +Max's shrewd eyes took another quick look at him. "For Chris's benefit, I +suppose?" he said, and though his tone was a question, it scarcely +sounded as if he expected an answer. + +Bertrand's eyes met his for an instant in a single lightning glance of +interrogation. They fell again immediately, and there followed a +considerable pause before he made reply: "I do not abandon my friends +when they are troubled and they have need of me." + +"Does Chris need you?" Max asked ruthlessly. + +Again that swift glance shooting upwards; again a lengthy pause. Then, +"_Vous avez la vue percante_," Bertrand remarked in a low tone. + +"I can't help seeing things," Max returned. "I suppose it's my +speciality. I knew you were in love with her from the first moment I saw +you." + +Bertrand made a slight movement, as if the crude statement hurt him; but +he answered quite quietly, "You have divined a secret which is known to +none other. I confide it to your honourable keeping." + +The corners of Max's mouth went down. He looked as if he were on the +verge of making some ironical rejoinder, but he restrained it, merely +asking, "Are you sure that no one else knows it?" + +"You mean--?" The words came sharply this time; Bertrand's eyes searched +his face with keen anxiety. + +"Chris herself," Max said. + +"_La petite Christine! Ma foi, no_! She has never known!" Bertrand's +reply was instant and held unshaken conviction. + +"You seem very sure of that," Max observed. + +"I am sure. Also"--a queer little smile of tenderness touched Bertrand's +drawn face--"she never will know now." + +"Meaning you will never tell her?" Max said. + +"Me, I will die first!" Bertrand answered simply. + +Max grunted. "Women have an awkward knack of finding things out without +being told," he observed. + +"She will never discover this while I live," Bertrand answered. "I am her +friend--the friend of her childhood--nothing more than that." + +"But if she did find out?" Max said. + +"She will not." + +"But--suppose it for a moment--if she did?" He stuck to his point +doggedly, plainly determined to get an answer. + +"In that case I should depart at once," Bertrand answered. + +"Yes, and where would you go to?" + +Bertrand was silent. + +"You would go back to London and starve?" Max persisted. + +"Perhaps." Bertrand spoke as though the matter were one of indifference +to him. "It would not be for long," he said rather dreamily. + +"Oh, rot!" Max's rejoinder was intentionally vehement. "Look here," he +said, as Bertrand looked at him in surprise, "you can't go on like that. +It's too damned foolish. If, for any reason, you do leave this place, you +must have some plan of action. You can't let yourself drift." + +"No?" Bertrand still looked surprised. + +"No," Max returned vigorously. "Now listen to me, Bertrand. If I am to +keep quiet about this illness of yours, you have got to make me a +promise." + +Bertrand raised his brows interrogatively. + +"Just this," Max said, "that if you find yourself at a loose end, you +will come to me." + +Bertrand looked quizzical. "A loose end?" he questioned. + +"You know what it means all right," Max returned sternly. "Is it a +promise?" + +"That I come to you if I need a friend?" amended Bertrand. "But--why +should I do that?" + +"Because I am a friend if you like," said Max bluntly. + +Bertrand's hand closed hard upon his. "I have--no words," he said, in a +voice from which all banter had departed. + +Max gripped the hand. "Then it's a promise?" + +Bertrand hesitated. + +"You have no choice," Max reminded him. "And if you will come to me I can +find a way to help you. It wouldn't even be difficult. And you would have +skilled nursing and attention. Come, it's either that or Trevor will have +to be told. He'll see that you don't go back to starve in the streets." + +"I will not have Mr. Mordaunt told," Bertrand said quickly and firmly. + +"Then you will give me this promise," Max returned immovably. + +With a gesture of helplessness the Frenchman yielded. "_Eh bien_, I +promise." + +"Good!" said Max. He laid Bertrand's hand down and rose. + +Yet a moment he stood above him, looking downwards. "You keep your +promises, eh?" he asked abruptly. + +Bertrand flushed. "I am a man of honour," he said proudly. + +"Yes, I know you are." Max touched his shoulder with a boyish, +propitiatory movement. "I beg your pardon, old chap. I'd be one myself if +I could." + +"But you--but you--" Bertrand protested in confusion. + +"I am a Wyndham," said Max, with a bitter smile. "It doesn't run in our +family, that. But I'll play the game with you, man, just because you're +straight." + +He patted Bertrand's shoulder lightly, and turned away. There were not +many who knew Max Wyndham intimately, and of those not one who would have +credited the fact that the innate honour of a French castaway had somehow +made him feel ashamed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WOMANHOOD + + +"A thousand thanks, _chere Madame_, for the generous favour which you +have bestowed upon me! I shall make it my business to see that no rumour +of your droll secret of Valpre ever reach the ear of the strict husband, +lest he should imagine that among the rocks of that paradise there lies +entombed something more precious to him than the gay romance of your +youth. + +"To this undertaking I subscribe my signature, with many compliments to +the good secretary; and to you, _chere Madame_, my ever constant +devotion. + +"_Toujours a vous_, +GUILLAUME RODOLPHE. + +"P.S.--It is with profound regret that I find myself unable to visit you, +but my duty recalls me to my regiment in Paris." + +A faint sigh escaped Chris, the first breath she had drawn for many +seconds. She stood by her dressing-table in the full glare of the +electric light, dressed in white, her wonderful hair shining like +burnished copper. She was to give her first dinner-party that night. It +was not to be a very large affair, yet it was something of an ordeal in +her estimation. She would probably have faced it more easily away from +Aunt Philippa's critical eyes. But this was a condition not obtainable. +Aunt Philippa had decided to remain some little time longer at Kellerton +Old Park in consequence of an engagement having fallen through, a state +of affairs that Noel regarded with a disgust too forcible to be expressed +in words, and which had driven Max away within three days of his arrival. + +Upon Chris had devolved the main burden of her aunt's society, and a +heavy burden she had begun to find it. Aunt Philippa had apparently +determined to spend her time in transforming her young niece into a +practical housewife--a gigantic task which she tackled with praiseworthy +zeal. She had already instituted several reforms in the household, and +her thrifty mind contemplated several more. Chris's attitude, which had +at first been one of indifference, had gradually developed into one of +passive resistance. She was, as a matter of fact, too preoccupied just +then to turn her attention to active opposition; but she did not pretend +to enjoy the tutelage thus ruthlessly pressed upon her. She had been +compelled to relinquish her readings with Bertrand, of whom she now saw +very little; for, though rigidly courteous at all times, he consistently +avoided Aunt Philippa whenever possible. She on her part treated him with +disdainful sufferance, much as she had treated Cinders in the old days. +She resented his presence, but endured it perforce. + +Under these circumstances it was not surprising that there should occur +moments of occasional friction between her niece and herself, especially +since, under the most favourable conditions, they had never yet managed +to discover a single point in common. + +This constant jarring in the background of the ceaseless anxiety that +consumed her night and day had worn Chris's nerves to a very thin edge, +and now that relief had come at last in the form of the letter she held +in her hand she was almost too spent to feel it. The tension had endured +for so long that it seemed impossible that it could have relaxed all in a +moment. She had received a roll of banknotes from her brother two days +before, but that had in a fashion but added to her fever of unrest. Now +that she knew them to be safe in the pocket of the blackguard for whom +they were intended, now surely was the time for peace to return. + +But had it? Standing there, still reading and re-reading those gibing +words, she asked herself dully if ever peace could return to her--the +thoughtless, happy peace of her childhood that she had valued so +lightly--the careless security of a mind at rest. Had it gone from her +for ever? Was that also buried among the rocks at Valpre? She +wondered--she wondered! + +There came a low knock at the door between her room and her husband's. +She started violently. He had been in town for a few hours. She had not +expected him back for another quarter of an hour at least. + +"Oh no," she called out quickly, "you can't come in!" + +Yet she stood as she was under the glaring light, the letter still +clutched stiffly in her hand, her eyes still staring widely at the +irregular, un-English writing. The letters seemed to writhe and squirm +into life before her distorted vision, to wriggle like a procession of +monstrous insects across the page. Were they insects or were they +reptiles? She asked herself the question dazedly. + +"Chris!" Her husband's voice came to her softly through the closed door. +"Let me come in for a moment. I have something to show you." + +"Wait!" she called back desperately. "Wait!" + +Yet it was as if iron chains were loaded upon her. She could speak, but +she could not move. Were they reptiles she was watching so intently? Or +stay! Were they crabs? They were certainly rather like the funny little +crabs that she and Cinders used to hunt for in the shallow pools of +Valpre. She gave a little laugh. Surely it was the sort of thing that +might have happened to Alice in Wonderland! + +And then quite suddenly her brain flashed back to understanding, to +vivid, appalling consciousness; and she knew that her husband was waiting +to enter, while she held in her hand the one thing which she would have +sacrificed her life sooner than let him see. The awfulness of the +realization spurred her back to action. Her limbs were free again, +though horribly--so horribly--unsteady. The letter seemed to burn her +fingers. She dropped it into the small drawer in which she kept her +trinkets, turned the key with feverish haste, and, withdrawing it, thrust +it down inside her dress. The cold steel sent a shiver to her very heart, +but it stilled the wild fever of her fear. When she turned from the +dressing-table she had nerved herself; she was calm. + +She crossed the room to the door at which Trevor stood waiting, and +quietly opened it. + +"How impatient you are!" she said, with a smile. + +For a woman who held her fate at bay it was admirably done; but for +Chris--little Chris of the sunny eyes and eager, impetuous actions--it +was so overwhelming a failure that Mordaunt, standing on the threshold, +made no movement to enter, but stood, and looked and looked, as though +he had never seen her before. + +She met the look as a duellist meets his opponent's blade, instantly but +warily, summoning all the craft of her newly awakened womanhood to her +aid. She was not conscious of agitation. Her heart felt as if it were +turned to stone; it did not seem to be beating at all. + +"Well," she said, as he did not speak, "have you got through your +business in town?" + +He did not answer her, but came straight forward into the room, took her +by the shoulders, and drew her round so that she faced the light. "What +have you been doing?" he said. + +She faced him unshrinking, undismayed. The Chris of a few hours before +would have drawn back in open fear from the piercing scrutiny of those +grey eyes, but this Chris was different. This Chris was a woman with pale +lips that smiled a baffling smile and eyes that barred the way to her +soul, a woman who had found in her womanhood a weapon of defence that no +man could thrust aside. + +"I haven't been doing anything," she said indifferently, "except run +round after Aunt Philippa--oh yes, and write up to town for some things I +wanted. Aunt Philippa is really going to leave us to-day week. I can't +think what we shall do without her, can you? Now tell me about your +doings." + +She lifted her face suddenly for his kiss, ignoring the fact that he was +still holding her as if for inquisition. + +He drew her sharply into his arms and held her fast. "You are very cold, +sweetheart," he said. + +She flushed a little at his action, though the lips he kissed were like +ice. "I am tired," she said. + +She expected him to set her free, but he did not. He held her closer +still. Not till afterwards did she realize that it was the first time he +had ever held her thus and she had not quivered like a frightened bird +against his breast. She was scarcely thinking of him now. She was as one +who stands before a scorching fire too rapt in reverie to feel the heat. + +Yet after a little he did succeed in infusing a certain degree of warmth +into her. Her arms went round his neck, though hardly of her own +volition, and her lips returned his kiss. But there was no spirit in her. +She leaned against him as if spent. + +"Are you quite well, dear?" he asked her tenderly. + +"Oh, quite! I am always well." She uttered a little tremulous laugh and +raised her head from his shoulder. "Trevor," she said, "I am afraid you +will think me very extravagant, but, do you know, I haven't any money to +go on with. I had a notice from the bank to-day to say my account was +overdrawn." + +Again it was not the Chris he knew who uttered the words. It was a woman +of the world to whom his passing displeasure had become a matter almost +of indifference. + +"Chris," he said abruptly, "what is the matter with you, child? Are you +bewitched?" + +That roused her. She suddenly realized that she was on dangerous ground, +that to blind him she must recall the child who had vanished so +inexplicably. And so for the first time she deliberately set herself to +deceive this man who till now had ever impelled her to a certain measure +of honesty. She did it with a sick heart--but she did it. + +She laid her hands on the front of his coat, grasping it nervously, +lifting pleading eyes to his. + +"No, I'm not bewitched. I'm only pretending not to be frightened. Trevor, +don't be vexed. I'm very sorry about it. Really I couldn't help it." + +"It's all right, dear," he said at once, and his hands closed instantly +and reassuringly upon hers. He smiled into her eyes. "It's very naughty, +of course, but I'm glad you have told me. How much do you want?" + +She hesitated momentarily. "I--I'm afraid rather a lot, Trevor." + +"How much?" he repeated; and then, as she still hesitated, his hold +tightened and his face grew grave. He looked straight down into her eyes. +"Chris," he said, "you haven't forgotten, have you, that it is against my +wish that you should let your brothers have money?" + +She met the look unflinching. "No, Trevor." + +He released her without further question. "Then you need not be afraid to +tell me how much." + +She made a little grimace. The part was getting easier to play. She was +beginning to feel almost natural. But the other woman--the woman of the +world who surely had never been Chris Wyndham--was still there in the +background watching the farce and smiling cynically. Chris was beginning +to be afraid of this new personality of hers. It was infinitely more +formidable than her husband had ever been. + +"How much, dear?" Mordaunt asked quietly. + +She started slightly. "Thirty pounds," she said. + +"Your account is overdrawn to that amount?" + +"Yes." She glanced at him nervously. "I am very sorry," she said again. + +He remained grave, but perfectly kind. "I will pay in fifty pounds +to-morrow," he said. "That will take you to the end of the month." + +"Oh, thank you, Trevor!" She threw him a quick smile of gratitude. "I +will pay you back as soon as ever I can." + +"No, it isn't a loan," he said. + +"Oh, don't give it me!" Impulsively she broke in upon his words. It was +growing strangely easy, this part she had to play. Or had she indeed been +bewitched for those few dreadful seconds? Was she in reality herself +again, the quick-hearted Chris he knew, and that other woman but a +phantom born of the horrible strain she had undergone? She told herself +that this was the true explanation, even while in her heart she knew +otherwise. + +"Don't give it me," she said again. "I would really rather you didn't." + +"Why?" he asked. + +She put out her hand to him with a little movement of entreaty. "I can't +explain. But--I would like to pay it back if you don't mind." + +He smiled at her persistence. "No, I don't mind, if you particularly wish +it. Now come into my room for a moment. I want to show you something." + +She went with him, her hand in his, not willingly but because she could +not do otherwise. + +He led her to the table, and pointed out a box upon it. "That is for you, +Chris." + +"For me!" She looked at him as if startled. "What is it, Trevor?" + +"Open it and see," he said. + +She hesitated. She seemed almost afraid. "I hope it isn't anything +very--very--" + +"Open it and see," he repeated. + +She obeyed him with hands that had begun to tremble, took out an +object wrapped in tissue-paper, unfolded the coverings, and disclosed a +jewel-case. + +Then again she hesitated, standing as one in doubt. "Trevor, I--I--" + +"Open it, dear," he said gently. + +And mutely she obeyed. + +Diamonds flashed before her dazzled eyes, a myriad sparkling colours shot +spinning through her brain. She stood gazing, gazing, as one beneath a +spell. For the passage of many seconds there was no sound in the room. + +Then with a sudden movement she closed the case. It shut with a sharp +snap, and she raised a haggard face. + +"Trevor, it's lovely--lovely! But I can't take it--anyhow, not yet--not +till I have paid you back." + +"My dear little wife, what nonsense!" he said. + +"No, no, it isn't! I am in earnest." Her voice quivered; she held out the +case to him beseechingly. "I can't take it--yet," she said. "I thank you +with all my heart. But I can't--I can't!" + +Her words ended upon a sudden sob; she laid the case down again among its +wrappings, and stood before him silent, with bent head. It was not easy +to refuse this gift of his, but for some reason to accept it was a +monstrous impossibility. He would not understand, of course, but +yet--whatever he thought--she could not take it. + +A long pause followed her last words. She shed no tears, but another sob +was struggling for utterance. She put her hand to her throat to strangle +it there. + +And then at last Mordaunt spoke. "Chris, have you been doing something +that you are afraid to tell me of?" + +She was silent. Silence was her only refuge now. + +He put his arm round her. "Because," he said very tenderly, "you needn't +be afraid, dear, Heaven knows." + +That pierced her unbearably. Woman though she was, she almost cried out +under the pain of it. + +She drew herself away from him. "Don't! please don't!" she said rather +breathlessly. "You--you must take things for granted sometimes. I can't +always be explaining my feelings. They won't stand it." + +She tried to laugh, but could not. Again desperately she pressed her hand +to her throat. How would he take it? She wondered. Would he regard it as +a mere childish whim? Or would he see that he was dealing with a woman, +and a desperate woman at that? + +She scarcely knew what she expected of him, but most assuredly she did +not anticipate his next move. + +Quite quietly he picked up the jewel-case, and re-entered her room. + +"It may as well go among your other treasures," he said. "You needn't +wear it--unless you wish--until you have paid me back." + +His tone was perfectly ordinary. She wondered what was in his mind, how +he regarded her behaviour, why he treated her thus; not guessing that he +had set himself resolutely, with infinite patience, to show her how small +was her cause for fear. + +He laid his hand upon the drawer that contained her trinkets, tried it, +turned round to her, faintly smiling. + +"May I have the key?" + +She had followed him in silence, and now she stood still, The key! The +key! It seemed to be searing her flesh, burning through to her very +heart. She suddenly felt as if all the Fates were arrayed against her. +Why--why--why had she chosen that drawer to guard her secret? Yet how +could she have foreseen this? A mist swam before her eyes. Her new-found +composure tottered. + +"I--have lost it," she murmured. + +"Lost it!" he echoed. + +"I mean--I mean--" She was stammering now in open confusion--"I must have +laid it down somewhere. I--I shall find it again, no doubt." + +He turned fully round and looked at her. She clasped her hands to still +her quivering nerves. This fresh ordeal was proving too much for her. + +"I can't help it," she said, with white lips. "I often mislay things. I +am careless, I know. But I always find them again sooner or later. I will +have a look for it while you are dressing." + +Her words ran on almost meaninglessly. She was speaking for the sake of +speaking, because silence would have been too terrible to be borne, +because if she had ceased to speak she must have screamed. Even as it +was, the fact that her husband said nothing whatever was driving her +almost to distraction. + +Suddenly she realized that he was waiting for her to stop, that her words +were making no impression, that he was not so much as listening to them, +his attention being focussed upon her and her alone. + +She broke off in desperation. She met his steady eyes. "Don't you--don't +you believe me, Trevor?" + +He did not instantly reply. For one dreadful moment she thought that he +was going to answer in the negative. And then very deliberately he +declined her direct challenge. + +"I think," he said quietly, "that you don't know what you are saying." + +And with that he went slowly back to his own room, taking the jewel-case +with him. The door closed softly and she was left alone. + +For many seconds thereafter Chris made no movement of any sort. It was as +if she were afraid to stir. Her eyes were wide, gazing straight before +her, as though fascinated by some scene of terror. + +She moved at last stiffly, went to the window, drew a long, deep breath. +She asked herself no questions of any sort. There was no need. For the +first time in her life she was face to face with her own soul, beyond all +possibility of self-deception. + +The child Chris was gone for ever, the woman Chris remained, a woman with +a tragic secret that must never be revealed. She knew now why she had +fought so desperately to keep that episode of Valpre from her husband's +knowledge. She only marvelled that the reason had never come home to her +before. She knew now why she had always shrunk inwardly from the +searching of his eyes. She had always dreaded that he might see too much, +even that same secret of which she herself must have been vaguely +conscious for years. + +It was all clear to her now, so clear that she could never shut her eyes +to it again. All her life long she must carry it in her heart, and no one +must ever know. Sleeping and waking, she must keep it safely hidden. She +must go on living a lie all her life, all her life. + +She flung out her arms with a sudden gesture of fierce rebellion. Oh, why +had she married? Why? Why? Why? Had she not always known in her heart +that she was making a terrible, an irrevocable, mistake? How was it she +had been so blind? Why had there been no one to warn her of the snare +into which she was walking? Why had no hand held her back? + +Trevor himself--but no, Trevor did not so much as know that she had left +her childhood behind her yet. He was still wondering what childish +peccadillo was troubling her, keeping her from accepting his gift. At +least, he was very far from suspecting her actual reason; nor must he +ever suspect. + +Never, as long as they lived, must he know that she had refused the first +thing of value that he had offered her since their wedding because in an +instant of overwhelming revelation she had just recognized the fact that +she loved--had loved for years--another man. + + + + +PART III + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WAR + + +Two days before that on which Aunt Philippa had decided to take her +departure Mordaunt went again to town. Noel, whose holidays were drawing +to a close, accompanied him to the station in a state of high jubilation, +albeit Holmes was in charge of the motor and there was not the faintest +chance of his being allowed to take the wheel. + +"I hope you're going to behave yourself," were Mordaunt's last words. + +And the youngster's cheery grin and impudent "You bet, old chap!" ought +to have warned him not to hope for behaviour too exemplary. + +Noel, in fact, had been anticipating his brother-in-law's departure with +considerable eagerness. Though he liked him thoroughly, he was an +undoubted check upon his enjoyment. He kept him within bounds after a +fashion which had at first amused but had of late begun somewhat to pall +upon him; and Noel was only awaiting a suitable opportunity to kick over +the traces and gallop free. On this occasion Mordaunt had decided to +spend the night in town, so circumstances were propitious. + +As for Mordaunt, he had dismissed Noel from his mind almost before the +train was out of the station. But for her aunt's presence, he would have +persuaded Chris to go with him, even though he knew that she had not the +smallest wish to do so. He was growing very anxious with regard to her, +and he was firmly determined that she should have a change of scene as +soon as Noel's holidays and Aunt Philippa's protracted stay came to an +end. It was not that she seemed ill, but she was very far from being +herself, and there were times when he even fancied that she simulated +gaiety for the deliberate purpose of deceiving him. He knew, too, that +her sleep was often broken and troubled, but he never commented upon +this; she was so plainly averse to any criticism from him or anyone. A +shrewd suspicion had begun to take root in Mordaunt's mind to account for +this unwonted reticence; and because of it he treated her with the utmost +patience and consideration, asking no question, giving no sign that he so +much as noticed the change in her. He invariably turned from any subject +she seemed to find distasteful. If she seemed unusually nervous or +unreasonable, he passed it over, bearing with her with a tenderness that +sometimes moved her in secret to passionate tears the while she asked +herself what she had ever done that he should love her so. + +For if she had ever doubted the quality of his love, she could not do so +now. It surrounded her whichever way she turned, asking nothing of her, +never intruding upon her, content simply to shelter her. And though the +very fact of it hurt her, it comforted her subtly as well, lulling her +fear of him, giving her a certain measure of confidence. + +Of Bertrand, in those days, she saw less and less. In the first shock of +realization she had instinctively avoided him, possessed by a haunting +dread that he might guess her secret. But upon this point she was very +soon reassured. The consistent and unwavering friendliness of his +attitude quieted her misgivings, and nerved her to treat him, if with +less intimacy, at least without visible awkwardness. Whether he noticed +her avoidance or not she did not know, but he certainly seemed to be +withdrawing himself more and more out of her life. His work with her +husband apparently occupied all his thoughts, and then there was Aunt +Philippa also to keep him at a distance. How it would be when her aunt +departed Chris had no notion, but she was looking forward to that event +with an eagerness almost feverish. All her natural sweetness +notwithstanding, there were occasions upon which she actively disliked +this domineering relative of hers. Aunt Philippa, on her part, who had +never taken so much trouble with her niece before, openly marvelled at +her intractability, which even the fact that Chris was one of those +headstrong Wyndhams did not, in her opinion, wholly justify. No open +rupture had occurred, but a very decided animosity had begun to smoulder +between them, which a very little provocation might at any moment fan +into open hostility. + +Chris was leaning against a pillar of the porch when her brother +returned. There was very decided dejection in her attitude. + +"Cheer up!" Noel exhorted her, as he sprang from the car. "I've got a +ripping plan." + +He came and twined his arm in hers, and Chris smiled with a hint of +wistfulness. She felt as if she had left Noel and his boyish pleasures +very far behind of late. + +"What do you want to do?" she said. + +"Come into the gun-room and I'll tell you." Noel was all eagerness. +"Coast clear?" he questioned. "Where's Aunt Phil?" + +"Waiting for me to go and help her find fault with the gardeners." Chris +was still smiling a little, but there was not much humour in her voice. + +"Oh, rats! Don't go!" said Noel. "Come along into the gun-room, and help +me make some fireworks. It will be much more fun." + +A spark of the old ardour kindled in Chris's eyes. "Oh, are you going to +make fireworks?" she said. "Have you got the ingredients?" + +He nodded. "Nearly all. Come and see. What we haven't got we must +manufacture. I know where there are plenty of cartridges." + +Chris yielded to the eager pulling of his arm. "I suppose Trevor wouldn't +mind for once," she said. She had grown unaccountably scrupulous in this +respect. + +But Noel jeered at the notion. "Who cares? It'll be all over long +before he comes home to-morrow. We will have a regular jollification +to-night. You and I will run the show, and Aunt Phil and Bertrand can +look on and admire. I say, Chris, I've got a ripping receipt for +Catherine wheels--not the big ones, those little things you hold and buzz +round. You know!" + +His enthusiasm was infectious. It drew her almost in spite of herself. +Besides, it meant a temporary respite from the continual burden that +weighed her down, and brief though it must be, she could not bring +herself to refuse it. She went with him, therefore, with the feeling of +one who has signed a truce with the enemy, and in a couple of minutes +they were securely closeted in the gun-room, with the door locked against +all intruders, and all thoughts of Aunt Philippa and any other troublous +problems as resolutely excluded from their minds. + +The hours of the morning literally flew. Luncheon-time found them +absorbed in a most critical process. + +"Bust lunch!" said Noel. "We can't possibly leave this now." + +But Chris's sense of duty proved too strong for her inclination at this +juncture, and she sallied forth from their retreat to rescue Bertrand +from a _tete-a-tete_ meal with her aunt. + +There was a sparkle of merriment in her eyes when she entered the +dining-room. The engrossing work of the morning had done her good. She +was fully five minutes late, and Bertrand, who had presented himself +sharp on the hour with military punctuality, was waiting by the window. + +He came swiftly to meet her. She had not seen him before that day. + +"You are looking well this morning," he said, in his quick, friendly way. +"You have been busy, yes?" + +His soft eyes interrogated her, as for an instant he held her hand. Never +once had she found those eyes impossible to meet. They held the fidelity +of unswerving friendship. + +"Oh yes," she said, "busy in a fashion--a very childish fashion, Bertie. +Noel and I are making fireworks!" + +"Fireworks!" he echoed. + +"Yes, we are going to have a grand display tonight. Will you come and +look on?" + +He smiled. "But yes," he said. "I think that I will come and take care of +you." + +She nodded. "Do! But they are not dangerous, not very. Where is Aunt +Philippa?" + +He spread out his hands whimsically. "She has not given me her +confidence." + +Chris laughed. Actually she was feeling almost lighthearted. Till that +moment she had had a morbid dread of being alone with him, and now behold +her dread vanishing in mirth! Surely she had been very foolish, like a +child frightened at shadows! + +"I wonder where she is," she said. "I am afraid I have been playing +truant this morning. I shall have to apologize, though it was all Noel's +fault. Do see if you can find Mrs. Forest," she added to a servant just +entering. "Ask her if she is ready for luncheon." + +"Mrs. Forest is out in the motor, and has not yet returned," was the +information this elicited. + +"How odd!" said Chris. "What had we better do?" + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders, still looking quizzical. "We must not +lunch without her, _bien sur_. Let us go into the garden." + +They went into the garden, and walked for a space in the September +sunshine. + +They talked at first upon commonplace topics, and Chris was wholly at her +ease. But presently Bertrand turned the conversation with an abrupt +question. + +"Christine, tell me, you have never seen that scoundrel Rodolphe again?" + +She started a little, and was conscious that she changed colour, but she +answered him instantly. "No, never. But--why do you ask?" + +Very gravely he made reply. "I have feared lately that there was +something that troubled you. I was wrong, yes?" + +He looked at her anxiously. + +She did not answer him, she could not. + +"_Eh bien_," he said gently, after a moment. "It was not that. You have +heard that he has been recalled to France--that there is a rumour that +there have been revelations that may lead to a court-martial?" + +"No!" said Chris in amazement. "Do you mean--" + +He bent his head. "It is possible." + +"That you may be vindicated?" she questioned eagerly. "Oh, Bertie!" + +"It is possible," he repeated. "Yet I will not permit myself to hope. It +is no more than a rumour. It is also possible that it may not even touch +the old _affaire_, since he made no appearance at my trial." + +"But if it did!" said Chris. + +He gave her an odd look. "If it did, Christine?" he questioned. + +"You would go back with flying colours," she said. "You would be +reinstated surely!" + +He shook his head. "I do not think it." + +"You mean you wouldn't go?" she asked. + +He turned his face up to the sun with a peculiar gesture. "Who can say?" +he said, with closed eyes. "Me, I think that the good God has other plans +for me. I may be justified--I do not know. But I shall wear the uniform +of the French Army--never again." + +He spoke perfectly calmly, with absolute conviction; but there was that +in his face that startled her, something she had never seen before. + +She put out a hesitating hand, and touched his sleeve. "Bertie!" + +Instantly he looked at her, saw the scared expression in her eyes, and, +smiling, pressed her hand. + +"_Mais_, Christine, these things--what are they? Ambition, success, +honour--loss, failure, shame; they seem so great in this little life of +mortality. But, after all, they are no more than the tools with which the +good God shapes us to His destiny. He uses them, and when His work is +done He throws them aside. We leave them behind us; we pass on to that +which is greater." He paused a moment, and his eyes kindled as though he +were on the verge of something further; then suddenly they went beyond +her, and he relinquished her hand. "Madame has returned," he said. "Let +us go!" + +Looking up, Chris saw Aunt Philippa upon the terrace above them. + +The expression on her relative's face was one of severe and undisguised +disapproval, as her gaze rested upon the two in the garden. Chris, as she +moved to meet her, felt a sudden flame of indignation at her heart. How +dared Aunt Philippa look at them so? + +"We have been waiting for you," she said, speaking in some haste to +conceal her resentment. "Has anything happened?" + +Aunt Philippa replied in the measured accents habitual to her. "Nothing +has happened. I have been to Sandacre Court, at Mrs. Pouncefort's +invitation, to see the gardens. I waited for you, Chris, for nearly an +hour this morning, but you did not see fit either to come to me or to +send any word of explanation to account for your absence. Therefore I +started late. Hence my late return." + +Chris coloured. "I am sorry, Aunt Philippa. Noel wanted me. I am afraid I +forgot you were waiting." + +"It seems to me," said Aunt Philippa, with cutting emphasis, "that you +are apt to forget every obligation when in Mr. Bertrand's society." + +"Aunt Philippa!" + +Furious indignation rang in Chris's voice. In a second--in less--it would +have been open war, but swift as an arrow Bertrand intervened. + +"Ah! but pardon me," he said, in his soft voice. "I am not responsible +for Mrs. Mordaunt's negligence. She has been occupied with her affairs, +and I with mine. Had she been in my society"--he smiled with a flash of +the teeth--"she would not have forgotten her duties so easily. I am an +excellent monitor, madame. Acquit me, I beg, of being accessory to the +crime, and accept my sympathies the most sincere." + +Aunt Philippa ignored them in icy silence, but he had accomplished his +end. The evil moment was averted. Whatever Chris might have to endure +later, at least she would be spared the added mortification of his +presence during the infliction. Airily he turned the subject. He could +overlook a snub more adroitly than Aunt Philippa could administer one. + +They went into the house, and during the meal that followed Bertrand made +himself gracefully agreeable to both ladies. So delicate were his +attentions that Chris found herself more than once on the verge of +hysterical laughter. + +But when he left them at length, with many apologies, to resume his +interrupted labours, her sense of humour ceased to vibrate. Never before +had she desired her husband's presence as she desired it then. + +Her hope that Aunt Philippa might retire to her room to rest was a very +slender one, and destined almost from the outset to disappointment. Aunt +Philippa was on the war trail, and she would not rest until she had +tracked down her quarry. + +She began at once to speak of her morning's visit to Mrs. Pouncefort, +whom she knew as a London hostess. Personally, she disapproved of her, +but she could not afford to pass her over, since her status in society +was by no means inconsiderable, being, in fact, almost capable of +rivalling her own. + +"I should have remained to luncheon," she said, "but for the fact that +you were here quite unchaperoned. Had you accompanied me, as I had hoped +you would, I should not have had to hasten back in the heat." + +"But I wasn't invited," said Chris, "and I know every inch of those +gardens. I knew them long ago, before the Pounceforts came." + +"The invitation," said Aunt Philippa, not to be diverted from her +purpose, "was quite casual. You could quite well have accompanied me. In +fact, I think Mrs. Pouncefort was surprised not to see you. However, we +need not discuss that further. Doubtless you had your own reasons for +desiring to remain at home, and I shall not ask you what those reasons +were. What I do ask, and what I think I have a right to know, is whether +you have had the proper feeling to tell your husband that the Captain +Rodolphe you met at Pouncefort Court a little while ago is the man with +whom you were so deplorably intimate at Valpre in your girlhood, or +whether you have had the audacity to pretend that he was a total stranger +to you." + +Chris almost gasped at this unexpected attack, but its directness +compelled an instant reply without pausing to consider the position. + +"I was never intimate with Captain Rodolphe," she said quickly. "I never +spoke to him before the other day." + +And there she stopped suddenly short, arrested by the look of open +incredulity with which her aunt received her hasty statement. + +There was a moment's silence. Then, "Really!" said Aunt Philippa. "He +gave Mrs. Pouncefort to understand otherwise." + +Chris felt the blood rush to her face. This was intolerable. "What did he +give Mrs. Pouncefort to understand?" she demanded. + +"Merely that you were old friends," said Aunt Philippa, with the calm +superiority of one not to be shaken in her belief. + +"Then he lied!" said Chris fiercely. + +Aunt Philippa said "Indeed!" with raised eyebrows. + +Chris's hands clenched unconsciously. "He lied!" she repeated. "We are +not friends! We never could be! I--I hate the man!" + +"Then you know him well enough for that?" said Aunt Philippa. + +Chris sprang to her feet with hot cheeks and blazing eyes. "Aunt +Philippa, you have no right--you and Mrs. Pouncefort--to--to talk me over +and discuss my acquaintances!" + +"My dear child," said Aunt Philippa, "all that passed between us was a +remark made by Mrs. Pouncefort to the effect that one of her guests, +Captain Rodolphe--an old friend of yours whom she believed you had +originally met at Valpre--had just returned to Paris. What led to the +remark I do not remember. But naturally the name recalled certain +regrettable circumstances to my mind, and I felt it my duty to ask if you +had been quite candid with Trevor upon the subject. I am sincerely +grieved to know that my suspicion in this respect was but too well +founded." + +"He was not the man I knew at Valpre" burst forth Chris, with passionate +vehemence. "You may believe it or not; it is the truth!" + +"Then, my dear," said Aunt Philippa, with the calmness of unalterable +conviction, "there must have been two men who enjoyed that privilege." + +Chris broke into a wild laugh--a laugh that had been struggling for +utterance for the past hour. + +"Two! Why, there were a dozen at least, some soldiers, some fishermen! +Ask Trevor! He can tell you all about them--if he thinks it worth while!" + +"And yet you have not mentioned Captain Rodolphe to him?" said Aunt +Philippa. Her eyes were fixed unsparingly upon the girl's face, and she +saw the colour dying away as swiftly as it had risen. "That is strange," +she remarked, with emphasis. + +"It is not strange!" flashed back Chris. The laugh had gone from her +lips, leaving them white, but she faced her adversary unflinchingly. It +was open war now--a fierce and bitter struggle for the mastery, for which +she knew herself to be ill-equipped, but in which she must fight to the +last. She knew that Aunt Philippa had always regarded her with cold +dislike, and it dawned upon her in that moment that now--now that her +position was assured, now that she was rich and popular and the wife of a +man who was universally honoured in that great world of society in which +her aunt had always striven for a leading place--the dislike had turned +to a cruel jealousy that demanded her downfall. And she was horribly at +her mercy; deep in her heart she knew that also, but she would not own +it, even to herself. Aunt Philippa had not yet unmasked the truth. Until +she succeeded in doing so, all was not lost. + +"It is not strange," she repeated, and this time she spoke quietly, +summoning all her strength to the unequal contest. "Captain Rodolphe was +not of sufficient importance to mention to Trevor. Besides--" + +"Although you hate him so bitterly!" Aunt Philippa reminded her. + +Chris pressed on, ignoring the thrust. "Besides, Trevor does not need, +does not so much as wish to be told of every little incident that ever +happened in my life. He prefers to trust me." + +"And have you never abused his confidence?" asked Aunt Philippa. + +It was inevitable. She flinched ever so slightly, but she covered it with +instant defiance. "What do you mean, Aunt Philippa?" + +Aunt Philippa made no direct reply. She knew the value of insinuation in +such a battle as this. "Ask yourself that question," she said +impressively. + +It might have provided a way of escape, at least temporarily, but Chris +was too far goaded to see it. "Tell me what you mean," she said. + +Aunt Philippa's thin lips smiled ironically. "My dear, are you really so +blind, or is deceit the very air you breathe? Can you look me in the face +and assure me that nothing has ever passed between you and your husband's +secretary of which you would not wish him to know?" + +That went home, straight to her quivering heart. For a moment the pain of +it held her dumb. Then, with a gasp, she turned from the pitiless eyes +that watched her. + +"Oh, how dare you, Aunt Philippa! How dare you!" she cried in impotence. + +"I trust that I am not afraid to do my duty," said Aunt Philippa, very +gravely. + +But Chris had already turned, completely routed, and fled from the scene +of her defeat; nor did she pause until she had reached her haven at the +top of the house, where, like a wounded bird, she crouched down in +solitude and so remained for a long, long time. + +Not till the afternoon was far advanced did any measure of comfort come +to her stricken soul, and then at last she remembered that, after all, +she was comparatively safe. Her husband's trust was still hers, implicit +and unwavering, and she knew that he would not so much as notice a single +hint from Aunt Philippa, however adroitly offered. That was her one and +only safeguard, and as she realized it the bitterness of her heart gave +place to a sudden burst of anguished shame. What had she ever done to +deserve the generous, unquestioning trust he thus reposed in her? +Nothing--less than nothing! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FIREWORKS + + +When Chris emerged from her seclusion, she found that her aunt had +decided to suspend hostilities, and to treat her with the majestic +condescension of the conqueror. It was something of a relief, for Chris +was not fashioned upon fighting lines, and long-sustained animosity was +beyond her. She was thankful for Noel's plans for the evening's +entertainment as a topic of conversation, even though Aunt Philippa +openly disapproved of the enterprise. She had begun feverishly to count +the hours to her aunt's departure. She would not feel really safe, +reassure herself how she might, until she was finally gone. + +It was not until after dinner that Noel emerged from his lair in the +gun-room and announced everything to be in readiness. He called Chris out +on to the terrace to assist him, and Aunt Philippa and Bertrand were +left--an ill-assorted couple--to watch and admire the result of his +efforts. Aunt Philippa invariably maintained a demeanour of haughty +reserve if she found herself alone with her host's French secretary, an +attitude in which he as invariably acquiesced with an impenetrable +silence which she resented without knowing why. He was always courteous, +but he never tried to be agreeable to her, and this also Aunt Philippa +resented, though she would have mercilessly snubbed any efforts in that +direction had he exerted himself to make them. + +The night was dark and still, an ideal night for fireworks. Noel began +with the failures which he had not the heart to waste. He was keeping the +choicest of his collection till the last. Consequently there were a good +many crackling explosions on the ground with nothing but a few sparks to +compensate for the noise, and Aunt Philippa very speedily tired of the +din. + +"This is childish as well as dangerous," she said. "I shall go to the +library. There will at least be peace and quietness there." + +"Without doubt," said Bertrand. + +He accompanied her thither with a polite regard for her comfort for which +he received no gratitude, and then returned to smoke his cigarette in +comfort by the open French window that overlooked the terrace. + +A ruddy glare lit up the scene as he took up his stand. The failures were +apparently exhausted, and Noel had begun upon the masterpieces. Chris's +quick laugh came to him, as he stood there watching. Yet he frowned a +little to himself as he heard it, missing the gay, spontaneous, childish +ring that he had been wont to hear. What had come to her of late? Was it +true that she had told him on the night of Cinders' death? Was she indeed +grown-up? If so--he changed his position slightly, trying to catch a +glimpse of her in the fitful glare of one of Noel's Roman candles--had +the time come for him to go? He had always faced the fact that she would +not need him when her childhood was left behind. And certainly of late +she had not seemed to need him. She had even--he fancied--avoided him at +times. He wondered wherefore. Could it have been at her aunt's +instigation? Surely not. She was too staunch for that. + +There remained another possibility, and, after a little, reluctantly, +with clenched teeth, he faced it. Had she by some means discovered that +which he had so studiously hidden from her all this time? He cast his +mind back. Had he ever inadvertently betrayed himself? He knew he had +not. Never since her marriage had he given the faintest sign; no, not +even on that fateful afternoon when she had clung to him in anguish of +soul and he had held her fast pressed against his heart. He had been +strictly honourable, resolutely loyal, all through. He had always held +himself in check. He had never forgotten, never relaxed his vigilance, +never once been other than faithful, even in thought, to the friend who +trusted him. Yet--Max's words recurred to him, piercing him as with a +stab of physical pain--without doubt women had a genius _incroyable_ for +discovering secrets. And if Chris were indeed a woman--was it not +possible-- + +Again her laugh broke in upon his thoughts, and he turned swiftly in the +direction whence it came. She was standing not more than a dozen yards +from him, a red whirl of fire all about her, in her hand a whizzing, +spitting-aureole of flame. The light flared upwards on her face and +gleaming hair. She looked like some fire-goddess, exulting over the +radiant element she had created. And, like a sword-thrust to his heart, +there went through him the memory of her standing poised like a bird on +the prow of a boat. Just so had she stood then; just so, goddess-like, +had she exulted in the morning sunshine and the sparkling water; just so +had her bare arms shone on the day that first he had consciously +worshipped her, on the day that she had told him of her desire to find +out all the secrets that there were. Ah! how much had she found out since +then--his bird of Paradise with the restless, ever-fluttering wings? How +much? How much? + +A sudden cry banished his speculations--a cry uttered by her voice, sharp +with dismay. "Oh, Noel! My sleeve!" + +Before the words were past her lips Bertrand had leaped forth to the +rescue. He traversed the distance between them as a meteor hurling +through space. But even so, ere he reached her, the filmy lace that hung +down from her elbow had blazed into flame. She had dropped the firework, +and it lay hissing on the ground like a glittering snake. He sprang over +it and caught her in his arms. + +She cried out again as he crushed her to him, cried out, and tried to +push him from her; but he held her fast, gripping the flaming material +with his naked hands, rending it, and gripping afresh. Something white +which neither noticed fluttered upon the ground between them. It must +have actually passed through that frantic grip. It lay unheeded, while +Bertrand beat out the last spark and ripped the last charred rag away +from the soft arm. + +"You are hurt, no?" he queried rather breathlessly. + +"You, Bertie! What of you?" she cried hysterically, clinging to him. +"Your hands--let me see them!" + +"By Jove, that was a near thing!" ejaculated Noel, who had followed close +upon Bertrand's heels. "I thought you were done for that time, Chris. How +on earth did you manage it? You must have been jolly careless." + +Chris did not attempt to answer. Now that the emergency had passed, she +was hanging upon Bertrand almost in a state of collapse. + +"Let us go in," the latter said gently. + +"Yes, run along," said Noel, who had a wholesome dread of hysterics. +"Don't be silly, Chris; there's no harm done. But if it hadn't been for +this chap here you'd have been in flames in another second. I +congratulate you, Bertrand, on your presence of mind. Not hurt yourself, +I suppose?" + +"I am not hurt," the Frenchman answered; but his words sounded as if +speech were an effort to him, almost as if he spoke them through clenched +teeth. + +Chris straightened herself swiftly. "Yes, let us go in," she said. + +She leaned upon Bertrand no longer, but she still held his arm. As they +entered the drawing-room alone together, she turned and looked at him. + +"Ah! I knew you were hurt," she said quickly. "Sit down, Bertie. Here is +a chair." + +He sank down blindly, his face like death; he had begun to gasp for +breath. His hand groped desperately towards an inner pocket, but fell +powerless before reaching it. + +"Let me!" whispered Chris. + +She bent over him, and slipped her own trembling hand inside his coat. +Her fingers touched something hard, and she drew out a small bottle. + +"Is it this?" she said. + +His lips moved in the affirmative. She removed the stopper and shook out +some capsules. + +"_Deux_!" whispered Bertrand. + +She put them into his mouth and waited. Great drops had started on his +forehead, and now began to roll slowly down his drawn face. She took his +handkerchief after a little to wipe them away, but almost immediately he +reached up with a quivering smile and took it from her. + +"I am better," he said, and though his voice was husky he had it under +control. "You will pardon me for giving you this trouble. It was only--a +passing weakness." + +He mopped his forehead, and leaned slowly forward, moving with caution. + +"But you are ill! You are in pain!" Chris exclaimed. + +"No," he said. "No, I have no pain. I am better. I am quite well." + +Again he looked up at her, smiling. "But how I have alarmed you!" he said +regretfully. "And your arm, _petite_? It is not burnt--not at all?" + +He took her hand gently, and put back the tattered sleeve to satisfy +himself on this point. + +Chris said nothing. Her lips had begun to tremble. But she winced a +little when he touched a place inside her arm where the flame had +scorched her. + +He glanced up sharply. "Ah! that hurts you, that?" + +"No," she said, "no. It is nothing." And then, with sudden passion: +"Bertie, what does a little scorch like that matter when you--when +you--" She broke off, fighting with herself, and pointed a shaking finger +at his wrist. + +It had been blistered by the flame, and his shirt-cuff was charred; but +the injury was slight, remarkably so in consideration of the utter +recklessness he had displayed. + +He snapped his fingers with easy indifference. "Ah, bah! It is a +_bagatelle_, that. In one week it will be gone. And now--why, _cherie_--" + +He stopped abruptly. She had dropped upon her knees beside him, her hands +upon his shoulders, her face, tragic in its pain, upturned to his. + +"Bertie, why do you try to hide things from me? Do you think I am quite +blind? You are ill. I know you are ill. What is it, dear? Won't you tell +me?" + +He made a quick gesture as if he would check either her words or her +touch, and then suddenly he stiffened. For in that instant there ran +between them once again, vital, electric, unquenchable, that Flame that +had kindled long ago on a morning of perfect summer, that Flame which +once kindled burns on for ever. + +It happened all in a moment, so swiftly that they were caught unawares in +the spell of it, so overwhelmingly that neither for the space of several +throbbing seconds possessed the volition to draw back. And in the deep +silence the man's eyes held the woman's irresistibly, yet by no conscious +effort, while each entered the other's soul and gazed upon the one +supreme secret which each had mutely sheltered there. + +It was to the man that full realization first came--a realization more +overwhelming than anything that had gone before, striking him with a +stunning force that shattered every other emotion like a bursting shell +spreading destruction. + +He came out of that trance-like stillness with a gesture of horror, as if +freeing himself from some evil thing that had wound itself about him +unawares. + +Her hands fell away from his shoulders instantly. She was white to +the lips. She even for one incredible moment--the only moment in her +life--shrank from him. But that impulse vanished as swiftly as it came, +vanished in a rush of passionate understanding. For with a groan Bertrand +sank forward and bowed his head in his hands. + +"_Mon Dieu_!" he said. "What have I done?" + +She responded as it were instinctively, not pausing to choose her words, +speaking in a quick, vehement whisper, because his distress was more than +she could bear. + +"It is none of your doing, Bertie. You are not to say it--not to think it +even. It happened long, long ago. You know it did. It happened--it +happened--that day at Valpre--the day you--took me into your boat." + +He groaned again, his head dropping lower. She knew that also! Then was +she woman indeed! + +There followed a silence during which Chris remained kneeling beside him, +but she was no longer agitated. She was strangely calm. A new strength +seemed to have been given her to cope with this pressing need. When at +last she moved, it was to lay a hand that was quite steady upon his knee. + +"Bertie," she said, "listen! You have done nothing wrong. You have +nothing to reproach yourself with. It wasn't your fault that I took so +long to grow up." A piteous little smile touched her lips, and was gone. +"You have been very good to me," she said. "I won't have you blame +yourself. No woman ever had a truer friend." + +He laid his hand upon hers, but he kept his eyes covered. She could only +see the painful twitching of his mouth under the slight moustache. + +"Ah, Christine," he said at last, with an effort, "I have tried--I have +tried--to be faithful." + +"And you have never been anything else," she said very earnestly. "You +were my _preux chevalier_ from the very beginning, and you have done more +for me than you will ever know. Bertie, Bertie"--her voice thrilled +suddenly--"though it's all so hopeless, do you think it isn't easier for +me now that I know? Do you think I would have it otherwise if I could?" + +His hand closed tightly upon hers with a quick, restraining pressure. He +could not answer her. + +For some seconds he did not speak at all. At length, "Then--you trust me +still, Christine?" he said, his voice very low. + +Her reply was instant and unfaltering. "I shall trust you as long as I +live." + +He was silent again for a space. Then suddenly he uncovered his face and +looked at her. Again their eyes met, with the perfect intimacy of a +perfect understanding. + +"_Eh bien_," Bertrand said, speaking slowly and heavily, as one labouring +under an immense burden, "I will be worthy of your confidence. You are +right, little comrade. We have travelled too far together--you and I--to +fear to strike upon the rocks now." + +He paused a moment, then quietly rose, drawing her to her feet. So for a +while he stood, her hands clasped in his, seeming still upon the verge of +speech, but finding no words. His eyes smiled sadly upon her, as the eyes +of a friend saying good-bye. At last he stooped, and reverently as though +he sealed an oath thereby, he pressed his lips upon the hands he held. + +An instant later he straightened himself, and in unbroken silence turned +and left her. + +It was one of the simplest tragedies ever played on the world's stage. +They had found each other--too late, and there was nothing more to be +said. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE TURN OF THE TIDE + + +It was evening when Mordaunt returned on the following day. He was met at +the station by Noel. Holmes was in charge of the motor, and greeted his +master with obvious relief. The care of the youngest Wyndham was plainly +a responsibility he did not care to shoulder for long. + +"All well?" Mordaunt asked, as he emerged from the station with his young +brother-in-law hooked effusively on his arm. + +"All well, sir," said Holmes, with the air of a sentry relaxing after +long and arduous duty. + +"Flourishing," said Noel, "though it's the greatest wonder you haven't +come back to find Chris a heap of ashes. She would have been if Bertrand +hadn't--at great personal risk--put her out." + +"What has happened?" demanded Mordaunt sharply. + +"All's well, sir," said Holmes reassuringly. + +"Fireworks!" explained Noel. "My word, I made some beauties! I wish you +could have seen 'em. I got singed a bit myself. But, then, that's only +what one would expect playing with fire, eh, Trevor?" He rubbed his cheek +ingratiatingly against Mordaunt's shoulder. "You needn't be anxious. +Chris was really none the worse. But the Frenchman had a bad attack of +blue funk when the danger was over, and nearly fainted. He's feeling +ashamed of himself apparently, for I haven't seen him since. By the way, +Aunt Phil and Chris had a mill yesterday, and the old lady is suffering +from a very stiff neck in consequence. I asked Chris what she did to it, +but she wouldn't tell me. Thank the gods, she goes to-morrow! You'll let +me drive her to the station, won't you? I should like to go to heaven in +Aunt Phil's company. She would be sure to get into the smartest set at +once." + +He rattled on in the same cheery strain without intermission throughout +the return journey, having imparted enough to make Mordaunt thoroughly +uneasy, notwithstanding Holmes's assurance. + +The first person he met upon entering the house was Aunt Philippa. She +accorded him a glacial reception, and explained that Chris had retired to +bed with a severe headache. + +"It's come on very suddenly," remarked Noel, with frank incredulity. +"Where's Bertrand? Has he got a headache too?" + +Aunt Philippa had no information to offer with regard to the French +secretary! She merely observed that she had given orders for dinner +to be served in a quarter of an hour, and therewith swept away to the +drawing-room. + +Mordaunt shook off his young brother-in-law without ceremony, and went +straight up to his wife's room. + +His low knock elicited no reply, and he opened the door softly and +entered. + +The room was in semi-darkness, but Chris's voice accosted him instantly. + +"Is that you, Trevor? I'm here, lying down. I had rather a headache, or I +would have come to meet you." + +Her words were rapid and sounded feverish, as though she were braced for +some ordeal. She was lying with her back to the curtained windows and her +face in shadow. + +Mordaunt went forward with light tread to the bed. "Poor child!" he said +gently. + +He stooped and kissed her, and found that she was trembling. Quietly he +took her hand into his, and began to feel her pulse. + +She made a nervous movement to frustrate him, but he gently insisted and +she became passive. + +"There is nothing serious the matter," she said uneasily. "I--I didn't +sleep very well last night, that's all. I thought you wouldn't mind if I +didn't come to meet you." + +Mordaunt, with the tell-tale, fluttering pulse under his fingers, made +gentle reply. "Of course not, dear. I think you are quite right to take +care of yourself. Is your head very bad?" + +"No, not now. I think I'm just tired. I shall be all right after a +night's rest." + +Again she tried to slip her hand out of his grasp, and after a moment he +let it go. + +"Please don't worry about me," she said. "You won't, will you?" + +"Not if there is really no reason for it," he said. + +She stirred restlessly. "There isn't--indeed. Aunt Philippa will tell you +that. I was letting off fireworks with Noel only last night." + +"And set fire to yourself," said Mordaunt. + +She started a little. "Who told you that?" + +"Noel." + +"Oh! Well, nothing happened, thanks to--to Bertie. He put it out for me." + +"I think there had better not be any more fireworks unless I am there," +Mordaunt said. "I don't like to think of my wife running risks of that +sort." + +"Very well, Trevor," she said meekly. + +"Where did the fireworks come from?" he pursued. + +"We made them--Noel and I. We used some of your cartridges for gunpowder. +He got saltpetre and one or two other things from the chemist. They were +quite a success," said Chris, with a touch of her old light gaiety. + +"And you are paying for it to-day," he said. "It will be a good thing +when Noel goes back to school." + +"Oh no," she answered quickly. "It wasn't the fireworks. I often have +wakeful nights." + +It was the first time she had ever alluded to the fact. He wondered if +she would summon the courage to tell him something further. He earnestly +hoped she would; but he hoped in vain. Chris said no more. + +He paused for a full minute to give her time, but, save that she became +tensely still, she made no sign. Very quietly he let the matter pass. He +would not force her confidence, but he realized at that moment more +clearly than ever before that she had only really belonged to him during +the brief fortnight that they had been alone together. The two months of +their married life had but served to teach him this somewhat bitter +lesson, and he determined then and there to win her back as he had won +her at the outset, to make her his once more and to keep her so for ever. + +"I am going to take you away, Chris," he said. "You are wanting a change. +Noel's holidays will be over next week. We will start then." + +"Where shall we go?" said Chris, and he detected the relief with which +she hailed the change of subject. + +"We will go to Valpre," he said, with quiet decision. + +"Valpre!" The word leaped out as if of its own volition. Chris suddenly +sprang upright from her pillows, and gazed at him wide-eyed. In the dim +light he could not see her face distinctly, but there was something +almost suggestive of fear in her attitude. "Why Valpre?" she said, in a +queer, breathless undertone as if she could not control her voice. + +He looked down at her in surprise. "You would like to go to Valpre again, +wouldn't you?" + +She gasped. "I--I really don't know. But what made you choose it? You +have never been there." + +"No," he said. "You will be able to introduce me to all your old haunts." + +She gasped again. "You chose it because of that?" + +He put a steadying hand upon her shoulder. "Chris, what makes you so +nervous, child? No, I didn't choose it because of that. As a matter of +fact, I didn't choose it at all. I am due there on business in three +weeks' time, but I thought we might put in a fortnight together there +beforehand. Wouldn't you like that?" + +She shivered under his hand, and made no reply. She only said, "What +business?" + +He hesitated a moment, then deliberately sat down upon the bed and drew +her close to him. "You remember that blackguard Frenchman Rodolphe who +was staying with the Pounceforts two or three weeks ago?" + +"Yes," whispered Chris. + +"He is to be court-martialled at Valpre, and I have accepted an offer to +go as correspondent to the _Morning Despatch_ and report upon his trial. +As you know, I represented them at Bertrand's _affaire,_ and this is a +sequel to that. In fact, Bertrand himself is very nearly concerned in it. +Certain transactions have recently come to light tending to show that the +crime of which he was accused was not only committed by this same +Rodolphe, but that he also deliberately manufactured evidence to shield +himself at the expense of Bertrand, the author of the betrayed invention, +against whom it seems he had a personal grudge. By the way, he managed +skilfully to keep in the background at Bertrand's trial. I fancy he was +away on some special mission at the time, and he did not appear. I never +saw him before that day at Sandacre Court, and I did not so much as know +then that he and Bertrand were acquainted. Did you know that?" + +She started at the question, but answered it more naturally than she had +before spoken. "Yes. I knew that Bertie had belonged to the same +regiment. They did not speak to each other that afternoon. You see, I was +there." + +"Ah! And you never met him in the old Valpre days?" + +Again she answered without apparent agitation; but her hands were fast +gripped together in the gloom. "I may have seen him. I never spoke to +him. Bertie was the only one I ever knew." + +"Ah!" Mordaunt said again. He was plainly thinking of Bertrand's affairs. +"Well, he is to stand his trial now, and I couldn't resist the chance of +being present at it. He was recalled to Paris a week ago, and summarily +arrested; but as popular feeling is running very high, the trial is to be +held at Valpre, which is a fairly important military station. That means +that the court-martial will take place probably in the fortress in which +the crime was committed--a pleasing consummation of justice." + +"And--Bertie will be vindicated?" breathed Chris. + +"If Rodolphe is convicted," Mordaunt answered, "Bertrand will be in a +position to return to France and demand a second trial, the outcome of +which would be practically a foregone conclusion, and at which I hope I +shall be present." + +Chris drew a sharp breath. "Then--then he will go to Valpre too?" + +"Not yet. He would be arrested and imprisoned if he did, and might +possibly ruin his cause as well. No, he will have to play a waiting game +for the present. I think myself it is the turn of the tide, but things +may yet go against him. There is no knowing. He is better off where he is +till we can see which way the matter will go. He doesn't want to spend +the rest of his life in a fortress." + +Chris shuddered uncontrollably at the bare thought. "Oh no--no! Trevor, +you won't let him run any risk of that?" + +"I shall certainly counsel prudence," Mordaunt answered. "If he runs any +risks, it will be with his eyes open." + +He paused a moment, then turned her face tenderly up to his own, and +kissed it. "And you don't like the Valpre plan?" he said, with great +gentleness. + +She hesitated. + +"We can go elsewhere if you prefer it," he said. "The court-martial will +probably only take a few days. We can stay somewhere near while it is in +progress. But I must have you with me wherever it is." + +He spoke the last words with his arms closely enfolding her. She turned +with sudden impulse and clasped him round the neck. + +"Oh, Trevor," she murmured brokenly, "you are good to me--you are good!" + +"My darling," he whispered back, "your happiness is mine--always." + +She made a choked sound of dissent. "I'm horribly selfish," she said, +with a sob. + +"No, dear, no. I understand. I ought to have thought of it before." + +She knew that he was thinking of Cinders, and that a return to the old +haunts could but serve to reopen a wound that was scarcely closed. She +was thankful that he interpreted her reluctance thus, even while she +marvelled to herself as she realized how far she had travelled since the +bitter day on which she had parted with her favourite. Looking back, she +saw now clearly what that tragedy had meant to her. It had been indeed +the commencement of a new stage in her life's journey. It was on that day +that she had finally stepped forth from the summer fields of her +childhood, and she knew that she would wander in them no more for ever. + +The thought went through her with a dart of pain. They had been very +green, those fields, and the great thoroughfare which now she trod seemed +cruelly hard to her unaccustomed feet. + +A sharp sigh escaped her as she gently withdrew herself from her +husband's arms. "Shall we talk about it to-morrow?" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" + + +Sitting in his writing-room with Bertrand that night Mordaunt imparted +the news that concerned him so nearly. + +The young Frenchman listened in almost unbroken silence, betraying +neither surprise nor even a very great measure of interest. He sat and +smoked, with eyes downcast, sometimes fidgeting a little with the fingers +of one hand on the arm of his chair, but otherwise displaying no sign of +agitation. + +Only at the end of the narration did he glance up, and that was but +momentarily, when Mordaunt said, "It transpires that this Rodolphe had an +old score to pay off. You were enemies?" + +Bertrand removed his cigarette to reply, "That is true." + +"You once fought a duel with him?" Mordaunt proceeded. + +Bertrand's eyelids quivered, but he did not raise them. He merely +answered, "Yes." + +"That fact will probably figure in the evidence," Mordaunt said. "The +cause of the duel is at present unknown." + +"It is--immaterial," Bertrand said, in a very low voice. He paused a +moment, then said, "And you, you will be at the trial to report?" + +"Yes. I am going. Chris will go with me." + +"Ah!" The exclamation seemed involuntary. Bertrand's hand suddenly +clenched hard upon the chair-arm. "You will take her--to Valpre?" he +questioned. + +"Probably not to the place itself," Mordaunt made answer. "I think she is +not very anxious to go there. It has associations that she would rather +not renew. We shall stay somewhere within easy reach of Valpre. Perhaps +you can tell me of a suitable resting-place not too far away. You know +that part of the world." + +"I know it well," Bertrand said, and fell silent, as though pondering the +matter. At the end of a lengthy pause he spoke, abruptly, with just a +tinge of nervousness. "But why do you take her if she does not desire to +go?" + +Mordaunt raised his brows a little. + +"You will pardon me," Bertrand added quickly, "but it occurs to me that +possibly she may prefer to remain at home. And if that were the case you +would not, I hope, consider my presence here as an obstacle, for"--again +he flashed a swift look across--"it is not my intention to remain." + +"What are your intentions?" Mordaunt asked. + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know yet. Circumstances will +decide. But it is certain that I can trespass no more upon your kindness. +I have already accepted too much from you--more than I can ever hope to +repay. Moreover"--he paused--"I do not wish to inconvenience you, and +since I cannot accompany you to France--" he paused again, and finally +decided to say no more. + +"Chris will go with me in any case," said Mordaunt quietly. "We have +already arranged that. You would cause no inconvenience to anyone by +staying here. In fact, it would be to my advantage." + +"To your advantage!" Bertrand echoed the words sharply, as if in some +fashion they hurt him; and then, "But no," he said with decision. "It has +never been to your advantage to employ me. You have done it from the +kindness of your heart, but it would have been better for you if you had +entrusted your affairs to a man more capable. And for that reason I am +going to ask you to find another secretary as soon as possible, one who +will perform his duties faithfully and merit his pay." + +"Is that the only reason?" Mordaunt asked unexpectedly. + +There fell a sudden silence. Bertrand, with bent head, appeared to be +closely examining the leather on which his fingers still drummed an +uneasy tattoo. At last, "It is the only reason which I have to give you," +he said, his voice very low. + +"It is not a very sound one," Mordaunt remarked. + +Again that quick shrug of the shoulders, and silence. Several moments +passed. Then with an abrupt movement Bertrand rose, laid aside his +cigarette, which had gone out, and seated himself at the writing-table. + +A pile of letters lay upon it that had arrived by the evening post. He +began to turn them over, and presently took up a paper-cutter and deftly +slit them open one by one. + +Mordaunt sat and smoked as one lost in thought. Finally, after a long +silence, he looked up and spoke. + +"Why this sudden hurry to dissolve partnership, Bertrand?" he asked, with +his kindly smile. "Is it this Rodolphe affair that has unsettled you? +Because surely it would be wiser to wait and see what is going to happen +before you take any decided step of this sort." + +"Ah! It is not that!" Bertrand spoke with a vehemence that sounded almost +passionate. "It is nothing to me--this affair. It interests me--not +that!" He snapped his fingers contemptuously. "No, no! The time for that +is past. What is honour, or dishonour, to me now--me who have been down +to the lowest abyss and who have learned the true value of what the world +calls great? Once--I admit it--I was young; I suffered. Now I am old, +and--I laugh!" + +Yet there was a note that was more suggestive of heartbreak than of mirth +in his voice. He applied himself feverishly to extracting a letter from +an envelope, while Mordaunt sat and gravely watched him. + +Suddenly, but very quietly, Mordaunt rose, strolled across, and took the +fluttering paper out of his hands. "Bertrand!" he said. + +The Frenchman looked up sharply, almost as if he would resent the action, +but something in the steady eyes that met his own altered the course of +his emotions. He leaned back in his chair with the gesture of a man +confronting the inevitable. + +Mordaunt sat down on the edge of the writing-table, face to face with +him. "Tell me why you want to leave me," he said. + +There was determination in his attitude, determination in the very +coolness of his speech. It was quite obvious that he meant to have an +answer. + +Bertrand contemplated him with a faint, rueful smile. "But what shall I +say?" he protested. "You English are so persistent. You will not be +content with the simple truth. You demand always--something more." + +"There you are mistaken," Mordaunt made grave reply. "It is the simple +truth that I want--nothing more." + +"_Ciel_!" Bertrand jumped in his chair as if he had been stabbed in the +back. "You insult me!" + +Mordaunt's hand came out to him instantly and reassuringly. "My dear +fellow, I never insult anyone. It is not my way." + +"But you do not believe me!" Bertrand protested. "And that is an +insult--that." + +"I believe you absolutely." Very quietly Mordaunt made answer. The hand +he would not take was laid with great kindness on his shoulder. "I happen +to know you too well to do otherwise. Why, man," he began to smile a +little, "if all the world turned false, I should still believe in you." + +"_Tiens_!" The word was almost a cry. Bertrand shook the friendly hand +from his shoulder as if it had been some evil thing, and almost with the +same movement pushed his chair back sharply out of reach. "You should not +say these things to me!" he stammered forth incoherently. "I do not +deserve them. I am not--I am not what you imagine. You do not know me. I +do not know myself. I--I--" He broke off in agitation and sprang +impetuously to his feet. + +With a gesture half-hopeless, half-appealing, he turned and walked to the +window, as if he could no longer bear to meet the level, grey eyes that +watched him with so kindly a confidence. + +There fell a silence in the room while Mordaunt, still sitting on the +writing-table, deliberately finished his cigarette. That done, he spoke. + +"Don't you think you had better tell me what is the matter?" + +Bertrand jerked his shoulders convulsively; it was the only response he +made. + +Mordaunt waited a few moments more. Then, "Very well," he said, without +change of tone or countenance. "We will dismiss the subject. If you +really mean to leave me, I will accept your resignation in the morning, +but not to-night. If--as I hope--you have thought better of it by then +and decide to remain, nothing further need be said. Will that satisfy +you?" + +Bertrand wheeled abruptly, and stood facing him, the length of the room +intervening. His mouth worked as if he were trying to speak, but he said +nothing whatever. + +Mordaunt turned without further words to the letter in his hand, and +studied it in silence. After a pause Bertrand came slowly back to the +writing-table. He had mastered his agitation, but he looked unutterably +tired. + +Mordaunt moved to one side at his approach. "Sit down!" he said, without +raising his eyes. + +Bertrand sat down, and began to turn his attention to sorting the letters +he had opened. Mordaunt stood motionless, reading with bent brows. + +Suddenly he spoke. "There is something here I can't understand." + +Bertrand glanced up. "Can I assist?" + +"I don't know. Read that!" Mordaunt laid the letter before him. "I can't +account for it. I think it must be a mistake." + +Bertrand took the letter and read it. It was an intimation from the bank +that in consequence of the bearer cheque for five hundred pounds +presented and cashed the week before, Mordaunt's account was overdrawn. + +"What cheque can it be?" Mordaunt said. "Have you any idea?" + +Bertrand shook his head. "But no! It is perhaps some charity--a gift that +you have forgotten?" + +"My good fellow, I may be careless, but I'm not so damned careless as +that." Mordaunt pulled out a bunch of keys with the words. "Let me have a +look at my cheque-book. You know where it is." + +Yes, Bertrand knew. He was as cognizant of the whereabouts of Mordaunt's +possessions as if they had been his own, and he had as free an access to +them. Such was the confidence reposed in him. + +He took the keys, selected the right one, stooped to fit it into the +lock. And then suddenly something happened. A violent tremor went through +him. He clutched at the table-edge, and the keys clattered to the ground. + +"Hullo!" Mordaunt said. + +Bertrand was staring downwards with eyes that saw not. At the sound of +Mordaunt's voice he started, and began to grope on the floor for the keys +as if stricken blind. + +"There they are, man, by your feet." Mordaunt stooped and recovered them +himself. "What's the matter? Aren't you well?" + +Bertrand lifted a ghastly face. "I am quite well," he said. "But--but +surely the bank would not cash a cheque so large without reference to +you!" + +Mordaunt looked at him a moment. "I have been in the habit of drawing +large sums," he said. "But I usually write a note to the bank to +accompany a cheque of this sort." + +He turned to the drawer and unlocked it. His cheque-book lay in its +accustomed place within. He took it out and commenced a careful +examination of the counterfoils of cheques already drawn. + +Bertrand sat quite motionless, with bowed head. He seemed to be numbly +waiting for something. + +Mordaunt was very deliberate in his search. He came to the end of the +counterfoils only, but went quietly on through the sheaf of blank cheques +that remained, gravely scrutinizing each. + +Minutes passed. Bertrand was sunk in his chair as one bent beneath some +overpowering weight, the pile of letters untouched before him. + +Suddenly Mordaunt paused, became tense for an instant, then slowly +relaxed. His eyes travelled from the open cheque-book to the man in the +chair. He contemplated him silently. + +After the lapse of several seconds, he laid the open book upon the table +before him. "A cheque has been abstracted here," he said. + +His voice was perfectly quiet. He made the statement as if there were +nothing extraordinary in it, as if he felt assured that there must be +some perfectly simple explanation to account for it, as if, in fact, he +scarcely recognized the existence of any mystery. + +But Bertrand uttered not a word. He was as one turned to stone. His eyes +became fixed upon the cheque in front of him, but his stare was wide and +vacant. He seemed to be thinking of something else. + +There fell a dead silence in the room, a stillness in which the quiet +ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece became maddeningly obtrusive. For +seconds that dragged out interminably neither of the two men stirred. It +was as if they were mutely listening to that eternal ticking, as one +listens to the tramp of a watchman in the dead of night. + +Then, at last, with a movement curiously impulsive, Trevor Mordaunt freed +himself from the spell. He laid his hand once more upon his secretary's +shoulder. + +"Bertrand!" he said, and in his voice interrogation, incredulity, even +entreaty, were oddly mingled. "You!" + +The Frenchman shivered, and came out of his lethargy. He threw a single +glance upwards, then suddenly bowed his head on his hands. But still he +spoke no word. + +Mordaunt's hand fell from him. He stood a moment, then turned and walked +away. "So that was the reason!" he said. + +He came to a stand a few feet away from the bent figure at the +writing-table, took out his cigarette-case, and deliberately lighted a +cigarette. His face as he did it was grimly composed, but there were +lines in it that very few had ever seen there. His eyes were keen and +cold as steel. They held neither anger nor contempt, only a tinge of +humour inexpressibly bitter. + +Finally, through a cloud of smoke, he spoke again. "Have you nothing to +say?" + +Bertrand stirred, but he did not lift his head. "Nothing," he muttered, +almost inarticulately. + +"Then"--very evenly came the words--"that ends the case. I have nothing +to say, either. You can go as soon as you wish." + +He spoke with the utmost distinctness. His head was tilted back, and his +eyes, still with that icy glint of amusement in them, watched the smoke +ascending from his cigarette. + +There was a brief pause. Then Bertrand stumbled stiffly to his feet. He +seemed to move with difficulty. He turned heavily towards the Englishman. + +"Monsieur," he said with ceremony, "you have--I believe--the right to +prosecute me." + +Mordaunt did not even look at him. "I believe I have," he said. + +"_Alors--_" the Frenchman paused. + +"I shall not exercise it," Mordaunt said curtly. + +"You are too generous," Bertrand answered. + +He spoke without emotion, yet there was something in his tone--something +remotely suggestive of irony--that brought Mordaunt's eyes down to him. +He looked at him hard and straight. + +But Bertrand did not meet the look. With a mournful gesture he turned +away. "I shall never cease to regret," he said, "the unhappy fate that +sent me into your life. I blame myself bitterly--bitterly. I should have +drawn back at the commencement, but I had not the strength. Only +monsieur, believe this"--his voice suddenly trembled--"it was never my +intention to rob you. Moreover, that which I have taken--I will restore." + +He spoke very earnestly, with a baffling touch of dignity that seemed in +some fashion to place him out of reach of contempt. + +Mordaunt heard him without impatience, and replied without scorn. "What +you have taken can never be restored. The utmost you can do is to let me +forget, as soon as possible, that I ever imagined you to be--what you +are not." + +The simplicity of the words effected in an instant that which neither +taunt nor sneer could ever have accomplished. It pierced straight to +Bertrand's heart. He turned back impulsively, with outstretched hands. + +"But, my friend--my friend--" he cried brokenly. + +Mordaunt checked him on the instant with a single imperious gesture of +dismissal, so final that it could not be ignored. + +The words died on Bertrand's lips. He wheeled sharply, as if at a word of +command, and went to the door. + +But as he opened it, Mordaunt spoke. "I will see you again in the +morning." + +"Is it necessary?" Bertrand said. + +"I desire it." Mordaunt spoke with authority. + +Bertrand turned and made him a brief, punctilious bow. "That is enough," +he said, and left the room martially, his head in the air. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DESPERATE REMEDY + + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck two, and Mordaunt rose from his chair +to close the window. The night was very still and dark. He stood for a +few moments breathing the moist air. From somewhere away in the distance +there came the weird cry of an owl--the only sound in a waste of silence. +He leaned his head against the window-sash with a sensation of physical +sickness. His heart was heavy as lead. + +"Trevor!" + +It was no more than a whisper, but he heard it. He turned. "Chris!" + +She stood before him, her white draperies caught together with one hand, +her hair flowing in wide ripples all about her, her eyes anxiously raised +to his. + +"Trevor," she said, "what is the matter?" + +There was a species of desperate courage in the low question. The fingers +that grasped her wrapper were tightly clenched. + +He closed the window. "Have you been lying awake for me?" he said. "I am +sorry." + +"Something is the matter," she said with conviction. "Won't you tell me +what it is? I--I would rather know." + +"I will tell you in the morning, dear," he said gently. "You must go back +to bed. I am coming myself now." + +But Chris stood still. "I want to know now, please, Trevor," she said. "I +shall not sleep at all unless I know." + +He put his arm about her, looking down at her with great tenderness. +"Must I tell you now?" he said, a hint of weariness in his voice. + +She did not resist his touch, but neither did she yield herself to him. +She stood within the encircling arm, looking straight up at him with +wide, resolute eyes. + +"It is something to do with Bertie," she said, in the same tone of +unquestioning conviction. + +He raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think so?" + +She frowned a little. "It doesn't matter, does it? Won't you tell me what +has happened?" + +He hesitated momentarily; then; "Yes, I will tell you," he said. +"Bertrand is leaving to-morrow--for good." + +He felt her stiffen against his arm, and for the first time he noticed +her pallor and the unusual steadfastness of her eyes. He realized that +she was putting strong restraint upon herself, and the fact made her +strangely unfamiliar to him. He was accustomed to vivid speech and +impetuous action. He scarcely knew her in this mood, although he +recognized that he had seen it at least once before. + +"Why?" Her lips scarcely moved as they asked the question. Her eyes never +left his face. + +He drew her to the writing-table on which his cheque-book still lay open +at the place whence a cheque had been abstracted with its counterfoil. + +"Sit down," he said, "and I will tell you." + +She sat down in silence. + +He knelt beside her as he had knelt on their wedding-night, and took her +cold hands into his own. + +"I think you know," he said quietly, "that I have always trusted Bertrand +implicitly." + +"You trust everyone," she said, with a small, aloof smile, as if she were +trying to appear courteous while her thoughts were elsewhere. + +"Yes, to my undoing," he told her grimly. "I trusted him to the utmost, +and--and he has betrayed my trust." + +She started at that, but instantly controlled herself. "In what way?" she +asked him, her voice scarcely above a whisper. + +He drew the cheque-book to him. "If you look at this cheque and the +next," he said, "you will see that there is one missing. There has been a +cheque taken out." + +"Yes?" said Chris. + +Her eyes rested for a moment upon the cheque-book, and returned to his +face. They held a curious expression as of relief and doubt mingled. + +"That is how he betrayed my trust," he told her quietly. "He used that +cheque to forge my signature and withdraw a sum of money from my account +which under ordinary circumstances I should probably never have missed. +As he is aware, I keep a large account, and I am in the habit of drawing +large cheques. As it chanced, the account was not quite so large as +usual, and it did not quite cover the amount withdrawn. Consequently my +attention was called to it, and I looked into the matter and +discovered--this." + +"Yes?" said Chris. "Yes?" + +She was breathing very fast. It was evident that her agitation was +getting beyond her control. + +He clasped her hands closer, with a warm and comforting pressure. He +knew--or he thought he knew--what this revelation would mean to her. Had +not Bertrand been even more her friend, her trusted counsellor, than his +own? + +"That is all the story, dear," he said gently. "We have got to face it as +bravely as we can. He will leave in the morning, so you need not see him +again." + +She made a quick, involuntary movement, and her hands slipped from his. + +"Not see him again!" she repeated, staring at him with wide eyes. "Not +see him again!" + +"I think it would be wiser not," he said, very kindly. "It would only +cause you unnecessary pain." + +She uttered a sudden breathless little laugh. "Trevor--am I dreaming? +Or--are you mad? You don't--actually--believe he did this thing?" + +His face hardened a little. "He had the sense not to attempt to deny it. +There was no question as to his guilt. He was the only person besides +myself who had access to my cheque-book." + +"But--" Chris said, and paused, as if to collect her thoughts. "How much +was taken?" she asked after a moment. + +"That," Mordaunt observed, "is the least important part of the whole +miserable business." + +"Still, tell me," she persisted. + +"He took five hundred pounds." + +"Trevor!" She gasped for breath, and turned so white that he thought for +a moment she would faint. + +He put his arm round her quickly. "Chris, we won't discuss it any further +to-night. You must go back to bed. You will catch cold if you stay here +any longer." + +But for the first time in her life she resisted him. She drew away from +him. She almost pushed him from her. + +"Five hundred pounds!" she said, speaking through white lips. She was +shivering violently from head to foot. "But--but--what should Bertie want +with five hundred pounds?" + +"I didn't inquire what he did with it." Mordaunt's answer came with +implacable sternness. "I haven't the least curiosity on that point. It is +enough for me that he took it." + +"Oh, Trevor, how hard you are!" The words rushed out like the cry of a +hurt creature, and suddenly Chris's hands were on his shoulders, and +her face, pinched and desperate, looked closely into his. "You have so +much--so much!" she wailed. "You don't know what temptation is!" + +He rose to his feet instantly and lifted her to hers. She was sobbing +terribly, but without tears. He held her to him, supporting her. + +"Chris, Chris!" he said. "Don't, child, don't! I know what this means to +you. It means a good deal to me too, more than you realize. But for +Heaven's sake let us stand together over it. Let us be reasonable." + +There was strong appeal in his voice; for in that moment, though he held +her to his heart, he knew that the gulf between them had suddenly begun +to widen. He saw the danger in a flash of intuition, but he was powerless +to avert it. They viewed the matter from opposite standpoints. Did they +not view all matters moral thus? She could condone what he could only +condemn, and because of this she deemed him hard and feared him. + +He bent his face to hers as he held her. His lips moved against her +forehead. "Chris," he said softly, "don't cry, dear! Listen to me. I'm +not going to punish him. He will have to go of course. As a matter of +fact, he meant to do so in any case. But it will go no further than that. +There will be no prosecution." + +She turned her face up quickly, and he saw that her eyes were dry, though +her breathing was spasmodic. "You couldn't prosecute an innocent man," +she said. "And he is innocent. I know he is innocent. You say he didn't +deny it. It was because he wouldn't stoop to deny it. He knew you would +never believe him if he did." + +The words came fast and passionate. She drew back from him to utter them, +and for the first time he read a challenge in her desperate eyes. + +He let her go out of his arms. He had tried to bridge the gulf, but the +distance was too great. His tenderness only gave her courage to defy him. + +With a stifled sigh he abandoned the conflict. "As I said before, there +is no question of his guilt," he said, with quiet emphasis. "Far from +denying it, he even announced his intention of restoring what he had +taken. That, of course, is also out of the question. He will probably +never be in a position to do so. But in any case it is beside the point. +It is useless to discuss it further." + +She broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Trevor, won't you believe me when +I say that I know--I know--he is innocent?" + +He looked at her. "How do you know it?" + +She wrung her hands together. "Oh, I have no proof! Can't you believe me +without proof?" + +He was watching her intently. "I believe in your sincerity, of course," +he said. "But I am afraid I don't share your conviction." + +"But you must--you must!" she cried. "I know him better than you do. I +know him to be incapable of the tiniest speck of dishonour. I swear that +he is innocent! I swear it! I swear it!" + +He put out a restraining hand. "Chris, don't say any more! You are +only upsetting yourself to no purpose. Come, child, it is useless to go +on--quite useless." + +She flung out her arms with a gesture of utter despair. "You won't +believe me?" + +He turned to lock up his cheque-book. "I have answered that question +already," he said, without impatience. + +She drew near to him. Her blue eyes burned with a feverish light. Her +face was haggard. "Trevor, what would you say if--if--I told you he were +shielding someone--if I told you he were shielding--me?" Her voice sank +upon the word. + +He turned sharply round, so sharply that she shrank. But he made no +movement towards her. He only looked full and piercingly into her face. +At the end of ten seconds he spoke, so calmly that his voice sounded +cold. + +"I am afraid I shouldn't believe you." + +His eyes fell away from her with the words. He dropped his keys into his +pocket and switched off the light from his writing-table. + +Chris was shivering again, shivering from head to foot. She could barely +keep her teeth from chattering. He came to her and put his arm round her. + +She glanced up at him nervously, but his quiet face told her nothing. +Almost involuntarily she suffered him to lead her from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WHEN LOVE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE + + +When Chris awoke, the morning sunshine was streaming in through the open +windows, and she was alone. She came back to full remembrance slowly, as +one toiling along a difficult road. Her brain felt very tired. She lay +vaguely listening to the gay trill of a robin on the terrace below, +dreading the moment when the dull ache at her heart should turn to active +pain. + +A cheery whistle on the gravel under her windows roused her at last. She +took up her burden again with a great sigh. + +"O God!" she whispered, as she turned her heavy head upon the pillow, "do +let me die soon--do let me die soon!" + +But there was no voice nor any that answered. + +Wearily at length she raised herself. It was curious how ill she felt. +She looked longingly back at her pillow. + +At the same instant the gay whistle in the garden gave place to a cracked +shout. "Hullo, Chris! Aren't you going to get up to-day? Do you know what +time it is?" + +She started, and looked at her watch. Ten o'clock! In amazement and +consternation she sprang from the bed. Bertrand was to leave in the +morning; so Trevor had told her. She must--she must--see him before he +left! Doubtless Trevor had hoped that she would sleep on till the +afternoon, and so miss him. How little he knew! How little he understood! + +With a bound she reached the window, there a sudden dizziness attacked +her. She clutched at the curtain with both hands. What if he had gone +already? What if she were never to see him again? + +Desperately she steadied herself. She must not give way thus. She looked +out and saw Noel, walking along the edge of the balustrade that bounded +the terrace. His arms were outstretched, and he balanced himself with +extreme difficulty. It looked perilous, but she knew him well enough to +feel no anxiety, notwithstanding the fact that there was a fall of twelve +feet on one side of him. + +After a few moments she commanded herself sufficiently to call down to +him, "Noel, where is everybody?" + +He looked up, lost his balance, and sprang down upon the terrace. "By +Jove! Aren't you dressed yet? What are we coming to? Trevor is gone to +ride round the estate, wouldn't have me for some reason. Bertrand is in +his room with the door locked, says he is busy--all bally rot, of course. +And Aunt Phil, thank the gods! is packing her trunk to leave by the five +o'clock train. By the way, Trevor said I was to see you had some +breakfast. What would you like? I'll bring it up to you myself in two +shakes." + +Chris felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat. Somehow the tenderness +of her husband's love hurt her more than it comforted just then. She knew +that he had absented himself and deputed Noel to wait upon her because he +had divined that she would prefer it. His intuition frightened her also. +Was he beginning to divine other things as well? Recalling his intent +look of the night before, the wonder struck chill to her heart. Yes, she +was thankful that he had gone; but it would be horribly hard to meet him +again after she and Bertrand had said good-bye. Aunt Philippa's +departure, eagerly though she had anticipated it, would make it harder. +Very soon Noel also would be gone, and they would be alone together. How +would she keep her secret then? How hide her soul from those grave, keen +eyes that probed so deeply? + +Ah! but he trusted her; he trusted her! Back to the old sheet-anchor flew +her whirling thoughts. His faith in her was invincible, unassailable. It +kept her safe. It sheltered her from every danger. It was her single +safeguard in temptation; without it she would be lost. + +She swallowed the lump in her throat, and leaned from the window to give +her brother the instructions he awaited. + +Turning back into the room, she found a note in her husband's handwriting +lying on her table. She took it up. + +"I do not forbid you to see Bertrand," it ran, "though I think you would +be wiser not to do so. I have already taken leave of him. He refuses to +be open with me, so there is no more to be said. It is by his own wish +that he is leaving to-day. As I said to you last night, I shall take no +legal steps against him, but that does not alter the fact that he is a +criminal, and for that reason your friendship with him must cease. I am +sorry, but it is inevitable. I think you will see it for yourself by and +bye, but till then my prohibition must be enough. I cannot be disobeyed +in this matter. Bear it in mind, dear, and believe that, even though I +may seem hard, I am acting for your welfare, which is more to me than +anything else on earth. + +"Yours, +TREVOR." + +Her face was white and strained as she read the note through. She seemed +to hear her husband's quiet voice in every sentence. Never till that +moment had she fully realized the fact that he had the right thus to +guide and restrain her actions. Never till that moment had she found her +will in direct opposition to his. A sudden passion of rebellion swept +upon her, possessed her. It was intolerable, impossible; she could not +submit to the mandate. + +To give up her friend--the dear knight of her girlhood's dreams--to see +him never again, to close her heart to him, to shut out the very memory +of him, to take up her life without him--no, never, never, never! Her +throbbing heart cried out against it. It was not to be borne. A fury akin +to hatred surged up within her. There was no man living who could make +her do this thing. + +Fiercely she tore the paper across and across, and flung the fragments +from her. Never would she consent to this! She would defy him sooner! + +Defy him! It was as if a voice spoke suddenly in her soul, asking a quiet +question. Could she defy him and still hide her secret? Would not the +steady eyes read her through and through the instant that her will +resisted his? Would he not know in a moment? Was it not even possible +that he had begun already to suspect? + +Again she recalled his intent look of the night before, and her heart +misgave her. Had she betrayed herself? Had he seen behind the veil? She +shivered at the thought, and for a few moments she was overwhelmingly +afraid. How would she ever meet those eyes again? + +But when presently Noel presented himself she had recovered her +self-command. She even compelled herself to eat some breakfast, while he +balanced himself on the window-sill and made careless conversation. It +was evident that he knew nothing of Bertrand's impending departure, and +she was relieved that this was so. She could not have borne his curiosity +or his comments. + +"What are you going to do to-day?" she presently inquired. + +"When you've had a decent meal, I'm going for a ride," he answered +promptly. "Can't waste the whole day hanging about and Fiddle's spoiling +for a gallop. You won't come, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. "No. I couldn't, anyhow. I must stay with Aunt +Philippa to-day. I've had quite a lot to eat. Don't wait." + +He sprang to his feet at once. "You haven't done badly, have you, +considering you've been lazing in bed instead of working up an appetite +in the open air? I say, Chris, there's nothing the matter, is there?" + +"Of course not," she returned briskly. "Why?" + +"You're not looking exactly chirpy," he said, regarding her critically. +"And Trevor was positively bearish this morning. He hasn't been bullying +you, has he?" + +"Of course not," she said again. "How absurd you are!" + +He looked incredulous. "Don't you stick it!" he warned her. "If he tries +it on, you come to me. I'll settle him." + +She laughed and turned the subject. "Hadn't you better start? It's +getting late." + +"P'raps I had. Good-bye, then!" He bent unexpectedly and kissed her +cheek. "We'll go for a picnic to-morrow," he said, "to celebrate Aunt +Phil's departure. Keep your pecker up! She'll soon be gone." + +He marched away, whistling, and Chris was alone. + +She rose and finished her dressing with feverish haste. Now was her time. + +Noel had said Bertrand was in his room. She must see him alone. But how +should she let him know? If she went in search of him she might encounter +Aunt Philippa and be detained. She went down to her husband's room, and +rang the bell there. + +Holmes answered it in some surprise, knowing his master to be out; but +she gave him no time for speculation. + +"Holmes," she said, "I believe Mr. Bertrand is somewhere in the house. I +wish you would find him, and say I am waiting to speak to him on a matter +of importance. I am going into the garden. He will find me under the +yew-tree." + +Holmes departed with his customary dispatch. There was something +indefinable about his young mistress that made him wish his master were +at hand. He made his way to Bertrand's room and knocked. + +There was no immediate reply; then, "I am busy," said Bertrand from +within. + +"If you please, sir!" said Holmes. + +There was a movement in the room at once, and the door opened. "Ah! It is +the good Holmes!" said Bertrand. "I thought that it was Monsieur Noel. +What is it, then? You bring me a message?" + +He looked at the man with sleepless eyes that shone curiously bright. In +the room behind him a portmanteau, half-filled, lay upon the floor. + +For a single instant Holmes hesitated before delivering his message. Then +he gave it punctiliously, word for word. + +"I am obliged to you," said Bertrand courteously. "I shall go to Mrs. +Mordaunt at once." + +He crossed the threshold therewith, but paused a moment outside the room. + +"Holmes," he said, "I go to London by the 11.50. Will you arrange for my +luggage to be taken to the station?" + +Holmes's well-ordered countenance expressed no surprise. "Very good, sir. +And you yourself, sir?" he said. + +"I shall walk," said Bertrand. + +"You would like me to finish packing for you, sir?" suggested Holmes. + +"Ah! That would be very good." Bertrand's voice expressed relief. He +stepped back into the room to slip a sovereign into the man's hand. + +But Holmes drew back. "Thank you, sir. I'd rather not, sir." + +Bertrand's brows went up. "How? But we are friends, no?" he questioned. + +"I don't know, sir," said Holmes, respectful but firm. "Anyhow, I'd +rather not, sir." + +"_Eh bien_!" The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and turned. "_Adieu_, +Holmes!" he said. + +"Good-day, sir!" said Holmes. + +He stood in the middle of the room till Bertrand had gone, then with an +expressionless face he betook himself to the door of Aunt Philippa's +room. + +Here he knocked again, and, receiving Mrs. Forest's permission to enter, +presented himself on the threshold. "I have come to say, madam, that Mrs. +Mordaunt is in the garden under the old yew," he announced deferentially. +"Will you be good enough to join her there?" + +Aunt Philippa, in the midst of her own preparations for departure, +received the news with considerable surprise. It was not Chris's custom +to send her messages of any description. The summons fired her curiosity; +but her dignity would not allow her to hasten overmuch to answer it. + +"I will be with Mrs. Mordaunt in a few minutes," she said. + +And Holmes departed, impassive still but with a mind uneasy. He wished +with all his soul that the master had not chosen to absent himself that +morning. Perhaps he was unreasonably nervous, but there seemed to be +tragedy in the very air. + +Bertrand, traversing the lawn bareheaded, was keenly aware of tragedy; +but it did not delay his steps. He went down the shady path that led to +Chris's retreat at a speed that left him breathless. He paused with his +hand to his heart as he reached the yew-tree before plunging into the +gloom beneath its great, drooping branches. He was living too fast, and +he knew it, could almost feel his life running out like the sand in an +hour-glass. But a great recklessness possessed him. If his strength could +only be made to last for a couple of hours more, he did not care what +happened to him, how soon the sand ran out. + +He had suffered more during the past night than he had ever thought to +suffer again. He had fought a desperate fight, and it had cost him nearly +all his strength. He knew instinctively that he must make the most of +what was left. Afterwards--afterwards--when the ordeal was over, he would +sink down and rest, it mattered not where. If he lived long enough, he +would keep his promise to Max Wyndham. If not,--well, he would not be +needing human help. The gods had nearly done with him, and he was too +weary to care. If he could only be faithful a little longer--a little +longer! Nothing would matter afterwards, and the pain would be over then. + +"Bertie, I am here!" + +He started, and for a moment that which he had been fighting down all +night showed in his eyes. He thrust it away out of sight. He answered her +with his usual courteous confidence. + +"Ah! You are there, Christine! You will pardon me for keeping you +waiting. I came as soon as your message reached me." + +He lifted one of the great yew-branches and stepped beneath as if +entering a tent. It fell behind him, and in the green gloom they were +face to face. + +"Were you going without saying good-bye?" said Chris. + +She stood before him, very pale and quiet. Her eyes did not meet his +quite fully. + +He spread out his hands. "I knew not if you would wish to see me." + +"Don't you know me better than that?" she said. He did not answer her. +Evidently she did not expect an answer, for she went on almost at once. +"Bertie, why did you let Trevor think you had robbed him?" + +He made a sharp gesture of protest, but remained silent. + +She laid her hand on his arm. "Come and sit down, Bertie! And please +answer me, because I want to know." + +He went with her to the rustic seat against the tree-trunk. He was +gripping his self-control with all his strength. + +"Mr. Mordaunt must think what he will," he said at length, with an +effort. "He can never judge me too severely." + +"Why do you say that?" Chris asked the question quickly, nervously, as if +she had to ask it, yet dreaded the answer. + +"I think you know, Christine," he answered, his voice very low. + +She shrank a little. "But that money, Bertie? You knew nothing of that?" + +He was silent for a moment; then, "We will not speak of that," he said +firmly. "I could not stay here in any case, so--it makes no difference." + +"No difference that he should think you a thief!" exclaimed Chris. + +He turned his eyes downwards, staring heavily at the ground between his +feet. "I ask myself," he said, "if I am any better than a thief." + +"Bertie!" There was quick distress in her voice this time. "But you have +done nothing wrong," she declared vehemently, "nothing whatever!" + +He shook his head in silence, not looking at her. + +"And you are ill," she went on, passing the matter by as if not trusting +herself. "What will you do? Where will you go?" + +He sat up slowly and faced her. "I go to London," he said, "and I must +start now. Do not be anxious for me, Christine. I have money enough. Mr. +Mordaunt offered me more this morning. But I had no need of it, and I +refused." + +He spoke quite steadily. He was braced for the ordeal. He would be strong +until the need for strength was past. + +But with Chris it was otherwise. For her there was no prospect of +relaxation. She was but at the beginning of her trial, and her whole soul +shrank from the contemplation of what lay before her. The dear dreams of +her childhood had flickered out like pictures on a screen. And she had +awakened to find herself in a prison-house from which all her life long +she could never hope to escape. Did some memory of the arms that had +enfolded her so often and so tenderly come to her as she realized it? If +so, it was only to stab her afresh with the bitter irony of Fate that had +lavished upon her the love of a man who had filled her life with all that +woman's heart could desire, and yet had failed to give her happiness. + +And so, when Bertrand spoke of going, the newly awakened heart of her +rose up in sudden, hot revolt. His departure was inevitable, and she knew +it, but her endurance was not equal to the strain. She had deemed herself +stronger than she was. + +She threw out her hands with a passionate gesture. "Bertie! What shall I +do without you? I can't go on by myself. I can't--I can't!" + +It was like the cry of a child, but in it there throbbed all the deep +longing of her womanhood. Ah! why had her eyes been opened? Surely she +had been happier blind! + +He took the outflung hands and held them. He looked into her eyes. "But, +_cherie_," he said, "you have your husband." + +"I know--I know!" Piteously the words came from her. "He is very good to +me. But, Bertie, he--has never been--first. I know it now. I didn't know +before, or I wouldn't have married him. I swear I would never have +married him--if I had known!" + +"_Cherie_, hush!" Almost sternly he checked her, though his eyes +were unfailingly kind. "You must not say it, Christine. Words always +make a bad thing worse. Think instead how great is his love for you. +Remember--oh, remember that you are his wife! The sin was mine that you +could ever forget it. But you have not forgotten it, _mignonne!_ Tell me +that you have not! Tell me that when you think of me it will be as a +friend who gives you no regrets, the friend of your childhood, little +Christine--the comrade with whom you played in the sunshine; no more +than that--no more than that!" + +Very earnestly he besought her, holding her hands lightly clasped between +his own, ready at her slightest movement to let them go. But she made no +effort to withdraw them. She only bent her head and wept as though her +heart were breaking. + +"_Cherie, cherie_!" he said, and that was all; for he had no words +wherewith to comfort her. He had wrought the mischief, but the remedy did +not lie with him. + +His own lips quivered above her bowed head; he bit them desperately. + +After a little she commanded herself sufficiently to speak through her +tears. "Bertie, you once said--that there was no goodness without Love. +Then why--why is Love--wrong?" + +"Love is not wrong, _cherie_." Instant and reassuring came his answer. +"Let us be true to Love, and we are true to God. For Love is God, and in +every heart He is to be found; sometimes in much, sometimes in very, very +little, but He is always there." + +"I don't understand," said Chris. "If that were so--why mustn't we love +each other? Why is it wrong?" + +"It is not wrong." Again with absolute assurance Bertrand spoke. "So long +as it is pure, it is also holy. There is no sin in Love. We shall love +each other always, dear, always. With me it will be more--and ever more. +Though I shall not be with you, though I shall not see your face or touch +your hand, you will know that I am loving you still. It will be as an +Altar Flame that burns for ever. But I will be faithful. My love shall +never hurt you again. That is where I sinned. I was selfish enough to +show you the earthly part of my love--the part that dies, just as our +bodies die, setting our spirits free. For see, _cherie_, it is not the +material part that endures. All things material must pass, but the +spiritual lives on for ever. That is why Love is immortal. That is why +Love can never die." + +She listened to him in silence, scarcely comprehending at the moment +words that later were to become the only light to guide her stumbling +feet. + +"Would you say that you love the dead no more because you see them not?" +he questioned gently. "The sight--the touch--what is it? Only the earthly +medium of Love; Love Itself is a higher thing, capable of the last +sacrifice, greater than evil, stronger than death. Oh, believe me, +Christine, Death is a very small thing compared with Love. If our love +were of the spirit only, Death would be less than nothing; for it is only +the body that can ever die." + +"But why can't we be happy before we die?" whispered Chris. "Other people +are." + +He shook his head. "I doubt it, _cherie_. With death in the world there +can be no perfection. All passes--all passes--except only the Love that +is our Life." + +He paused a moment, seeming to hesitate upon the verge of telling her +something more; but in that instant she raised her head and he refrained. + +"Ah, Christine," he said sadly, "I never thought that I should make you +weep like this." + +"Oh, it's not your fault, Bertie." She smiled at him, with quivering +lips. "It's just life. But--dearest--I want you to know all the +same--that I'm glad--I'm glad I love you so. And--whether it's right or +wrong, I can't help it--I shall always love you--best of all." + +His eyes shone at the words. A passionate answer sprang to his lips, but +he stopped it unuttered. "We are not responsible for that which we cannot +help," he said instead. "Only--my darling"--for the first time the +English word of endearment passed his lips, spoken almost under his +breath--"never permit the thought of me to come between you and your +husband. Be faithful, Christine--be faithful!" + +She made no answer of any sort; but her eyes were hopeless. + +He waited a while, still holding her hands while tenderly he watched her. +At last, "I must go, _cherie_," he whispered. + +Her face quivered. Suddenly and impetuously as of old she spoke. "Bertie, +once--long ago--you meant to marry me, didn't you?" + +His own face contracted. "Do not let us torture ourselves in vain," he +urged her gently. + +"But it is true!" she persisted. + +He hesitated an instant. "Yes, it is true," he said. + +She leaned her head back, looking him straight in the eyes. There was a +light in hers that he had never seen before. They gleamed like stars, +seeing him only. "Bertie," she said, and her voice thrilled upon the +words, "I was yours then, and I am yours now. I have always belonged +to you, and you to me. Bertie, I--am coming with you." + +His violent start testified to the utter unexpectedness of her +announcement. Such a possibility had not, it was obvious, suggested +itself to him. He turned white to the lips. + +"Christine!" he stammered incredulously. + +Feverishly she broke in upon his astonishment. "Oh, don't be shocked! It +is absolutely the only way. I cannot stay here without you. Trevor will +keep us apart. He will not let me even write to you. He says that our +friendship must cease. And it cannot--it cannot! Bertie, don't you see? +Don't you understand? Don't you--want me?" + +A note of despair rang in her voice. Her hands suddenly gripped each +other in agonized misgiving. But on the instant his gripped closer, +holding them crushed against his breast in fierce reassurance. His eyes +shone full into hers, and for one moment of fiery rapture which both were +to remember all their lives their souls mingled, became fused in one, +forgetful of all beside. + +Out of the silence the man's voice came, low and passionate. "_Le +bon Dieu_ knows how I want you, my bird of Paradise! But yet--but +yet--" Something seemed to choke his utterance. He gave a sudden gasp, +and bowed his head forward upon her shoulder. + +Her arms were round him in an instant. "What is it, dearest? You are +ill!" + +"No," he said. "No." But still he gasped for breath, and she fancied that +he repressed a shudder. + +He raised his head after a moment. "Pardon me, _cherie_. I am only--weak. +Christine, all my life--all my life--I shall remember--how you were +ready--to give up all--all--for me. But, _mignonne_, I cannot take +such a sacrifice. I dare not. Go back to your husband, _cherie_. It is +your duty. You are his, not mine. We will not stain our love thus. +Christine"--his voice broke--"_ma mignonne_, I love you too well--too +well--to do this thing. You shall not be ruined--for my sake." + +"Oh, but, Bertie!" she pleaded. She was clinging to him now; her +eyes implored him. "Think of me here without you! Never to see you +again--never to have a single word from you any more! Bertie, I can't +bear it--I can't bear it! It will be no sacrifice to me to come with +you. I don't mind hardship. I'm used to poverty, But here--but here--" + +Her voice broke also, she could say no more. His arms went round her, +straining her to him. His face was close to hers. But his eyes were the +eyes of a man in torture. + +"I know--I know all," he whispered. "Yet--my darling--you must stay--and +I must go. When Love demands a sacrifice--" + +"I will sacrifice anything--everything--all I have!" she cried out +wildly. + +"We must sacrifice each other," he said. "That is the test of our love, +_cherie_. That is the sacrifice that Love demands." + +He spoke quite quietly, with the calmness of one who knew and faced the +worst. The torture in his eyes had turned to dumb endurance. "Only thus," +he said--"only thus can we be true to our love. We sacrifice the little +for the much. _Mignonne_, believe me, it is worth it. You are mine, and I +am yours. So be it, then. Let us be--faithful." + +He spoke with the utmost tenderness; yet was she awed. Her sudden +rebellion died. It was as though a quiet hand had been laid upon her +heart, stilling her pain. For one moment she looked with him across the +long, dark furrows of mortal life into the great Beyond, and knew that he +had spoken the truth. Their love was worth the sacrifice. + +"Oh, Bertie," she said, in a whisper, "you are right, dear, you are +right." + +His eyes flashed swift understanding into hers; yet for a moment his arms +tightened about her, as if her submission made it harder for him to let +her go. + +She waited till they relaxed, and then she laid her hands upon his +shoulders. "Bertie," she said very earnestly, "forget I ever asked it of +you!" + +He shook his head instantly, with a sudden, transforming smile that +revealed in him the young, quick spirit that had caught hers so long ago. +"Oh no--no!" he said. "It will be to me the most precious memory of my +life. By it I shall always remember--the so great generosity--of +your love." + +The smile went out of his face. He leaned nearer to her. She read +irresolution in his eyes, and a quiver that was half of hope and half of +apprehension went through her. Was he going to fail, after all, in the +moment of victory? If so--if so-- + +But he restrained himself. She saw him fight down the impulse that urged +him inch by inch until he had it in subjection. Under her watching eyes +he conquered. He showed her the Omnipotence of Love. + +Quietly, with no exaggeration of reverence, he knelt before her. He took +her hands into his own, turned them upwards, pressed his lips to each +palm, let them go. + +The silence between them was like a sacrament. She never knew how long it +lasted. It was a farewell more final than any words. + +At last, "God keep you, my Christine!" he said. "God bless you!" + +He rose to his feet, but he did not look at her again. + +She could not speak in answer; there was no need of speech. He knew her +heart as he knew his own. + +And so in silence, with bent head, he left her. And the sun went out of +her sky. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WAY OF THE WYNDHAMS + + +When Mordaunt returned from his ride, it was close upon the +luncheon-hour. He went straight upstairs to prepare for the meal. + +Chris's room was empty. He wondered where she was, but Noel bounded in +and enlightened him before he descended. + +"She's doing the pretty to Aunt Philippa," he reported. "Only three more +hours now! Hip, hip, hooray!" + +His yell caused Mordaunt to fling the towel he was using at his head, a +compliment which seemed to please him immensely. He draped it round his +neck and proceeded to deliver himself of that which he had come to say. + +"Look here, Trevor, you've been bullying Chris, haven't you? You needn't +say you haven't, because I know you have." + +"Did she tell you so?" Mordaunt sounded grim. + +Noel turned to look at him. "No. She said you hadn't. But she always +tells a cram when it suits her purpose. I knew you had all the same." + +Mordaunt was silent. + +"She's horribly down in the mouth," Noel proceeded. "She never used to be +before she married you. It's a pretty beastly thing to have to say, but +someone ought to say it, and if I don't no one else will." + +"Go on," said Mordaunt. "Your sense of duty does you credit." + +"Don't be a beast! It isn't duty at all. I'm simply pointing out the +obvious. I should think you could see it for yourself, can't you?" + +Mordaunt brushed his hair in silence. + +"It's got to stop anyhow," Noel went on with determination. "She's not to +be bullied. It's worse than shabby,--it--it's damned mean to--to treat +her as if--as if--" He became suddenly agitated and lost the thread of +his discourse. + +Mordaunt had laid down his brushes to listen. His eyes were gravely +attentive. They held no indignation. "Go on," he said again. "You are +quite right to use strong language if you consider the occasion requires +it." + +But Noel's flow of language had failed him. He sprang suddenly at his +brother-in-law, and caught him by the shoulders. "Oh, do stop it, old +chap!" he urged, with husky vehemence. "We all of us rely on you. And if +you fail us--can't you see we're done for?" + +Mordaunt looked down at him with a faint smile. "Perhaps I had better +tell you what has happened," he said. "The trouble at the present moment +is that Bertrand has robbed me, and has left in consequence." + +"Great Scotland!" ejaculated Noel. "How much did he take?" + +"Five hundred pounds. That's a detail of small consequence." Mordaunt +spoke with grim precision. "It has upset Chris--quite naturally. But even +you can hardly hold me responsible for that." + +"I should think not! I say, I'm sorry I spoke." Impetuously Noel hugged +him to obliterate the effect of his words. "I'm a silly ass. You mustn't +mind me. Do you know, I always thought he would somehow, though Chris was +so keen on him." + +"I was keen on him too," Mordaunt observed, without much humour. + +"I'm awfully sorry, old chap. It's a bit of a facer for you. But, you +know, you can't trust foreigners. It doesn't do. There was that chap at +Valpre. He simply bewitched Chris. She never would hear a word against +him, but I'm sure he was a bounder. I've often thought since that he +probably manoeuvred that cave business. They're such a wily lot, these +Frenchies." + +"What cave business?" There was a hint of sharpness in Mordaunt's voice; +his brows were drawn. + +Noel looked surprised. "Why, the time they got hung up by the tide all +night. Mean to say you never heard of it? Oh, my eye!" he broke off +blankly. "Then I've let the cat out of the bag!" + +"Don't distress yourself. It is of no importance." Mordaunt's tone was +suddenly very deliberate. He turned away and began to put on his coat. +"Are you ready for luncheon? I'm going down now." + +Noel surveyed him doubtfully. "You won't let on I told you, will you?" he +said uneasily. "Chris may have asked me to keep it dark." + +"I don't suppose she did." Very quietly Mordaunt made reply. "She has +more probably forgotten all about it. But I won't give you away in any +case. You are ready? Then suppose we go!" + +They descended together to find Aunt Philippa and Chris awaiting them in +the hall. Chris scarcely looked at her husband. She was very pale. + +He followed her to her end of the table to pour her out a glass of wine. + +"Please don't!" she said nervously. "I don't like it. I can't drink it." + +"I think you can," he answered. "Try!" + +He went to his own place, and proceeded to engage Aunt Philippa in +conversation. But Aunt Philippa was looking even more severe than usual, +and responded so indifferently to his efforts that he presently suffered +them to flag. There fell a dead silence. Then Noel struck in with furious +zest, and Mordaunt turned to him with relief. But Chris scarcely opened +her lips. + +At the end of the meal he addressed her with quiet authority. "Chris, you +must rest this afternoon. Your aunt will excuse you." + +"Certainly," said Aunt Philippa stiffly. + +Chris rose from the table in unbroken silence. She came slowly down the +long room. Mordaunt got up to open the door, and followed her out. + +"Don't worry about me, please!" Chris besought him as he closed the door +behind them. "I shall be all right to-morrow." + +He ignored the protest, and accompanied her upstairs. She glanced at him +uneasily as they went. "I can't help being--unhappy just for to-day," she +murmured. "You--you couldn't expect me--not to care?" + +He did not speak till they reached her room. Then: "You saw Bertrand," he +said, in a tone that was hardly a question. + +"Yes." She began to tremble a little. "I am sorry," she said. "But--I had +to." She stood before him, not meeting his eyes, waiting for him to +speak. "I couldn't let him go--for good--without saying good-bye," she +said, as he remained silent. + +He took her gently by the shoulders. "Chris, look at me!" + +She drew back, yet in a moment with a desperate effort she raised her +eyes to his. He laid his hand upon her forehead, and looked at her long +and searchingly. + +She endured the look in quivering silence, but she turned so deathly pale +under it that he thought she would faint. Quietly he let her go. + +"You will lie down now?" he said. + +"Yes," she answered, under her breath. + +"Don't be in a hurry to get up," he said. "I will explain to your aunt +that I do not wish you to be disturbed, and I shall see her off myself." + +He went to the windows and drew the curtains. She watched him silently. +As he turned back into the room, she spoke. + +"Trevor, are you angry with me?" + +He paused, as if the question were unexpected. "No," he said, after a +moment. + +Her eyes shone unnaturally bright in the twilight. "You understand +that--that I couldn't obey your wishes about not seeing--Bertrand--before +he left?" + +"I did not forbid you to see him," he said. + +"But--you are vexed because I did," she persisted. + +He came quietly back to her. "I believe you did the only thing possible +to you," he said, in a tone she could not fathom. "Therefore there is no +more to be said. Won't you lie down?" + +She complied without further words. He covered her with a rug, but she +shivered under it as one with an ague. He brought a quilt, and laid that +also over her. + +She reached out then, and caught his hand. "Trevor, forgive me!" + +He bent over her. "My dear, I am not angry with you." + +"Ah, but--but--" She broke off helplessly; there was something about him +that unnerved her. Suddenly and inexplicably the longing surged over her +to be caught to his breast and held there safe from all the tumult, the +misery, the vain regrets, that tortured her quivering soul. But she could +not tell him so, could not bring herself to pour out all the truth. For +the first time she saw how wide was the gulf that had opened between +them--that gulf which he had tried in vain to span the night before--and +her heart died within her. She knew that she was powerless, that now in +the hour of her adversity, now when she felt her need of a protector and +comforter as never before, she dared not confide in him, dared not throw +herself upon his mercy, and trust to his generosity to understand and to +forgive. + +And so she could only hold his hand very tightly, too agitated to utter +any plea, afraid to keep him, yet even more afraid to let him go, lest, +apart from her, that dread gulf should widen into an abyss too terrible +for contemplation. + +He waited for a little beside her, to give her agitation time to subside. +But it only increased till it became so painfully obvious that he could +ignore it no longer. + +"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked her gently. "I am +quite ready to listen to you. Only don't be so distressed. Really there +is no need." + +His tone was perfectly kind, but the caressing note she was wont to hear +in it was absent. She shivered afresh, conscious of a chill. She could +not answer him; her throat seemed incapable of producing sound. + +A while longer, with absolute patience, he waited. Then; "I think you +must let me go, dear," he said. "I am doing you more harm than good just +now. By and bye, when you are calmer, we will have a talk." + +And so by his very forbearance he committed the greatest mistake of his +life. If he had stayed then, she might have been persuaded to tell him +all that was in her heart. But--the bitter irony of it!--though she was +possessed by a passionate longing to do so, in face of his quiet +restraint she could not. In fear of the physical effect upon her, he held +her back. And she was powerless to pass the barrier. Without his +supporting tenderness, she could not lay bare to him the misery and the +pain which in no other way could be relieved. + +She loosened her hold upon his hand, and as he gently withdrew it she +felt as if her last chance of peace were taken away. She turned her face +into the pillow and lay still, and a moment later the soft closing of the +door told her he had gone. + +She listened to his quiet tread along the passage, and an overwhelming +sense of desolation swept over her. He had left her alone to cope with +her trouble, and the burden of it was greater than she could bear. + +She did not know that he returned a little later and listened for many +seconds at the door, fearing that she might be spending her solitude in +tears. She never heard him there, or even then her tragedy might have +been lifted from her. She was lying quite still, with clenched hands, +staring dry-eyed into space; for she had no tears to shed. + +And he, deeming her sleeping, went softly away again, to sit on the +terrace and await Aunt Philippa, who had retired to make her final +preparations. + +A long time passed before she made her appearance, and he was beginning +to wonder with some uneasiness if she had decided to postpone her +departure after all, when at length she joined him, ready dressed for the +journey. She sat down beside him, looking very handsome and dignified. + +"I am glad of this opportunity of seeing you alone, my dear Trevor," she +began, "as, after long deliberation, I have at last decided to take you +into my confidence upon a matter that has been greatly troubling me." + +Mordaunt laid aside the proof of an article with which he had been +occupying himself, and replied with his customary courtesy, "I am always +glad if I can be of use to you." + +"Thank you," said Aunt Philippa. + +She carried a bag upon her wrist, and she proceeded to open and search +within it. Finally she extracted, a piece of folded notepaper, and handed +it to him. + +"Will you read that first?" she said. "It will make a difficult task +easier." + +Mordaunt took the paper, saw that it was a letter, and proceeded to read +it under her watching eyes. + +There followed a long, quiet pause before he said, "I presume that this +is not addressed to you." + +"There," said Aunt Philippa, "you are quite correct." + +"Then--" He folded it sharply, and made as if he would hand it back to +her, but altered his purpose and closed his fingers upon it instead. +"Will you explain?" he said. + +Aunt Philippa proceeded to do so in her most judicial manner. "That +letter I found on the terrace yesterday morning and, believing it to be +one of my own that had blown out of my window, I picked it up and later +placed it in my letter-case. In the evening I took it out with the +intention of answering my correspondent, but upon perusing it, I +discovered it to be the communication which you hold in your hand. As you +perceive, it was written from Sandacre Court about a week ago, and I now +realize that it is not the first letter which the writer has sent to this +house. You may remember a discussion arising one morning on the subject +of a letter from Sandacre Court. That letter, I am now convinced, was +written by the same hand, and these facts point to the very unpleasant +conclusion that the man who wrote them--Guillaume Rodolphe--has been +levying blackmail. He is apparently aware of a most unfortunate episode +which occurred at Valpre in Chris's early girlhood--" + +Mordaunt held up his hand abruptly; his face was set in iron lines. "I +have already heard of the episode to which you refer," he said. + +"Indeed!" said Aunt Philippa. "And may I ask how long you have been aware +of it?" + +He hesitated momentarily. "Is that material?" + +"I think it is," she rejoined. "If Chris has brought herself even at the +eleventh hour to be open with you, none will rejoice more sincerely than +I. It has always been my principle that wives should have no secrets from +their husbands. But, knowing her as I do, I question very much if this +can be the case. I have remonstrated with her myself upon the subject, +but she refused so stubbornly to listen to me that I cannot but feel that +the time has come for me to take my own measures. I should not be doing +my duty otherwise. Painful as it is to me, I feel it incumbent upon me to +tell you the truth. Now, my dear Trevor, are you aware that there has +to-day been a scene between your wife and your secretary which I can only +describe as--a love passage? Has she confessed this to you? Because, if +not, you must no longer remain in ignorance of the true state of affairs. +Chris has deceived me throughout in the most flagrant manner. Had I +known--as I now know--that the man who caused the Valpre scandal and your +secretary, Bertrand de Montville, a criminal exile living upon your +charity, were one and the same person, I would never have permitted you +to marry my niece and expose her afresh to a temptation which she had +already shown herself unable to resist." + +Her last words were somewhat hurried, for Mordaunt had risen to his feet, +and there was that in his eyes that warned her that if she paused for a +single instant they would never be uttered at all. And Aunt Philippa +never liked to leave a task unfinished. That which she undertook she +invariably carried through undeviatingly, whatever the cost, and +notwithstanding any adverse circumstances which might arise during its +accomplishment. + +She finished her sentence therefore, and then resigned herself to the +martyrdom of being grossly misunderstood. + +For that he utterly misread her motives was apparent from his very +expression, even before he said with extreme deliberation: "Mrs. Forest, +you will oblige me very greatly by not pursuing this subject any further. +As I said to you before, Chris is in my keeping now, and it will be my +first care to see that no harm comes to her. As to my secretary, he has +left me for good, and I doubt if I ever see him again." + +"I see," said Aunt Philippa. "You have quarrelled with him then?" + +"I have." Sternly he made reply. He still held the note she had given him +crumpled in his hand. + +Aunt Philippa stiffened her neck severely. "And you left them alone to +say good-bye! My dear Trevor, are you mad, or only criminally indifferent +to your own interests?" + +"I am neither," he said. + +"And do you know what happened?" + +"I do not wish to know." + +She contemplated him for a moment in silence, then: "Your own servant has +more common sense," she said. + +"Do you mean Holmes?" He spoke with absolute composure, not as one +vitally interested; but his eyes made her nervous, they were so still and +intent. + +"I do mean Holmes," she said. "He came to me in the course of the morning +and informed me that his mistress was under the yew-tree and wanted me. I +thought his message unusual at the time. When I went out to the yew-tree +about ten minutes later, I understood the meaning of it. They were +together there, in each other's arms. I did not interrupt them, for I +felt it my duty to ascertain, if possible, how far the mischief had gone. +But I was not successful. The interview came to an end almost at once. He +knelt down upon the ground and kissed her hands, after which he got up +and went away. I did not hear what he said to her, but it was certainly +no word of farewell. Personally I am convinced that his leave-taking was +not final. As for Chris herself, she seemed dazed, and I left her to +recover." + +Aunt Philippa paused. He had not interrupted her, but she did not feel +his silence to be reassuring. She found it impossible to meet his look +any longer, though she made a valiant effort to do so. + +"I hope you will believe," she said, after a moment, "that nothing but a +most urgent sense of duty has impelled me to tell you this." + +He did not answer, and she began to flounder a little, finding his +silence hard to fathom. + +"I felt that you ought to be upon your guard. As I have told you before, +not one of the Wyndhams is to be trusted. I think you have been too +generous in this respect, and have laid yourself open to deception. +However--now that I have warned you once more, you will perhaps be more +careful in the future. I can only hope that my warning has come in time." + +Again she paused, but still he remained silent, looking straight at her +with a steely regard that never altered. + +She mustered her forces at length to ask a direct question. "What do you +propose to do with regard to that letter you hold in your hand?" + +With a quiet movement he transferred it to his pocket. "I have not had +time to consider the matter," he said. + +She was momentarily surprised, and showed it. "I thought you would know +what to do at once," she said. "It was, in fact, my reason for telling +you of it. I felt that something ought to be done--and quickly." + +"Something will be done," Mordaunt answered quietly. "You have placed the +matter in my hands, and I shall deal with it. I think I need not ask you +to refrain from mentioning it to anyone else?" + +"You need not," said Aunt Philippa with dignity. + +"Thank you. And that is all you wish to say to me?" + +She met his steady eyes for an instant and at once looked away again. +"All," she replied, "except that I think it was a great pity that you +refused so persistently to profit by my former warning. It might have +averted much trouble both for yourself and for Chris." + +He made her a slight bow. "I fear I am not unique," he said, "in +preferring to conduct my own affairs in my own way." + +When Aunt Philippa took her departure that afternoon it was in a most +unwonted state of doubt, not unmingled with apprehension. Despite his +moderation, she had an uneasy feeling that her communication to Trevor +Mordaunt had set in motion a devastating force which nothing could arrest +or divert until it had spread destruction over all that lay in its path. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE TRUTH + + +In answer to her husband's low knock, Chris turned from her +dressing-table. She had switched on the electric light, and had taken +down her hair, preparatory to dressing for dinner. It hung all about her +in magnificent ripples of ruddy light and shade. Her face, in the midst +of it, looked very small and tired. She was clad in a plain white +wrapper, that fell away from her neck and arms, giving her a very +childish appearance. + +"Yes, I'm getting up," she said, with the flicker of a smile. "I couldn't +sleep." + +He entered and closed the door behind him in silence. + +"Has Aunt Philippa gone?" she asked. + +He responded briefly, "Three hours ago." + +"Ah!" She stretched out her arms with the gesture of one freed from an +irksome burden, but they fell again immediately, almost as if a fresh +burden had taken its place. + +She stood for a few seconds motionless, looking straight before her. +Finally, with a hint of nervousness, she turned her eyes upon her +husband; they shone intensely blue in the strong light. + +"We shall soon be quite alone," she said. + +His eyes did not answer hers. They looked remote and cold. "Come and sit +down," he said. + +He seated himself on the couch from which she had just risen. Chris +caught up a slide from the dressing-table, and fastened back her hair +with fingers that trembled inexplicably. + +Then she went to him. "Trevor," she said, and there was pleading in her +voice, "do you know, I don't want to talk about anything. I think one +gets over some troubles best that way. Do you mind?" + +He took her wrists very quietly, and drew her down beside him. "What were +you trying to tell me this afternoon?" he said. + +She shivered and turned her face away. "Nothing, really nothing. I was +foolish and upset. Please let me forget it." + +She would have withdrawn from his hold, but his hands tightened upon her. +"Won't you reconsider the matter?" he asked. "It would be better for us +both if you told me of your own accord." + +"Trevor!" She turned to him swiftly, flashing into his face a look of +such wild alarm that he was touched, in spite of himself. + +"My dear," he said, "I have no wish to frighten you. But you must see for +yourself that it is utterly impossible for us to go on like this. You are +keeping something from me. I want you to tell me quite quietly and +without prevarication what it is." + +She turned white to the lips. "There is nothing, Trevor. Indeed, there is +nothing," she said. + +His face changed, grew stern, grew implacable. He bent towards her, still +holding her firmly by the wrists. He looked closely into her eyes, and in +his own was neither accusation nor condemnation, only a deep and awful +questioning that seemed to probe her through and through. + +"For Heaven's sake," he said, "don't lie to me!" + +And Chris shrank, shrank from that dread scrutiny as she would have +shrunk from naked steel. She did not attempt to speak another word. + +For seconds that seemed to her agonized senses like hours, he held her +so, waiting, waiting for she knew not what. Her heart thumped within her +like the heart of a terrified creature fleeing for its life. She began to +pant audibly through the silence. The strain was more than she could +bear. + +"Chris!" he said. + +She started violently; every pulse leaped, every nerve jarred. But she +did not lift her eyes to his; she could not. + +"Don't tremble," he said, his voice very cold and even. "Just tell me the +truth. Begin with what happened at Valpre." + +Her white lips quivered. "What--how much--do you know?" + +"I will tell you that," he said, "when you have answered me quite fully +and unreservedly." + +She cast an imploring look at him that did not reach his eyes. "But, +Trevor, nothing happened," she told him piteously. "That is to say, +nothing beyond--" She broke off short. "I was only a child. I didn't +know," she ended, in a confused murmur. + +"What didn't you know?" Stern and pitiless came the question. His hands +were holding her wrists tightly locked. There was compulsion in their +grasp. + +She answered him because she could not help it, but her words were +wild and incoherent. "I didn't know what it meant. I didn't see the harm +of it. I was too young. It all happened before I realized. And even +then--even then--I didn't understand--that it was serious--until--until-- +the duel. Trevor--Trevor, you are hurting me!" + +His hold relaxed, but he did not set her free. "Was that duel fought on +your account?" he asked. + +"Yes," she whispered. + +"In what way?" + +She was silent. + +"Answer me," he said. + +She clenched her hands in sudden, strenuous rebellion. "I don't know. I +never heard." + +"Was it because you had compromised yourself with Bertrand de Montville?" + +Very deliberately he asked the question, so deliberately that she could +not evade it. + +"It is not fair to--to put it like that," she said. + +"I am waiting to hear your own version," he told her grimly. + +"You have only heard Aunt Philippa's, so far?" she hazarded. + +"I have heard nothing whatever about what happened at Valpre from your +aunt," he answered. "But that is beside the point. Are you quite +incapable of telling me the truth?" + +She winced sharply. "Trevor! Why are you so cruel? I have done nothing +wrong." + +"Then look at me!" he said. + +But she would not, for his eyes terrified her. Nor could she bring +herself to speak of Valpre under their piercing scrutiny. Only +close-locked in his arms could she have poured out the poor little secret +that she had sacrificed so much to keep. Not the nature of the adventure +itself, but the fact that she had given her love to the man who had +shared it with her, held her silent. She could not spread her love before +those pitiless eyes, and to disclose the one without the other had become +impossible to her. + +And so she remained silent, counting the seconds as she felt his +forbearance ebb away. + +When at last he moved and released her, she cowered almost as if she +expected a blow. Yet when he spoke, though there was in his tone a subtle +difference, his words came with absolute composure. She could almost have +imagined that he was smiling. + +"Since you refuse to be open with me," he said, "you compel me to draw my +own conclusions. Now, with regard to this letter which you received a +week ago from Captain Rodolphe--you have another letter from him +somewhere in your possession?" + +He took the missive from his pocket and opened it as if he would read it +again. But the sight was too much for Chris. It tortured her beyond +endurance, galvanizing her into sudden, unconsidered action. She snatched +it from him and tore it passionately into fragments. + +"You shall not!" she cried. "You shall not!" + +With the words she sprang to her feet, and stood before him, goaded to +frenzy, challenging his calm. + +"Where did you find it?" she demanded. + +"It was found on the terrace," he said. + +She flung out a trembling hand. "Ah! Then I dropped it that night that my +dress caught fire. I thought it was burnt. And you found it--you dared to +read it!" + +He did not attempt to explain his action. Perhaps he realized he +was more likely to obtain the truth from her thus than by endless +cross-questioning. "Yes, I have read it," he said. + +She made a desperate gesture. "And because of this--because of +this--you--you accuse me of--" + +"I have accused you of nothing," he said sternly. "I have only asked you +to tell me the truth. I hoped you would do so of your own free will, but +since you will not--" + +"Yes?" she cried back. "Since I will not--?" + +"I shall find another means," he answered. + +He rose abruptly. They stood face to face. There was no shrinking about +Chris now. She was braced to defiance. + +"Where is that other letter?" he said. + +"I have destroyed it." + +She uttered the words with quivering triumph, strung to a fever-pitch of +excitement in which fear had no part. + +His eyes went to her jewel-drawer. + +"It is not there," she said. "The letter I hid there was the one you have +just read." + +She spoke rapidly, but she was no longer incoherent. Her words came +without effort, and he knew that she was telling the truth as the victim +in a torture-chamber might tell it, because she was goaded thereto and +incapable at the moment of doing otherwise. He also knew that, +notwithstanding this, she was scarcely aware of what she said. Out of the +agony of her soul, because the pain was unbearable, she had yielded +without knowing it. + +"I only kept this letter," she said, "in case he ever asked for more. But +it doesn't matter now--nothing will ever matter any more. You know the +worst, and"--fiercely--"you are welcome to know it. I--I'm even glad! +I've nothing left to be afraid of." + +She drew in her breath hysterically. She was on the verge of dreadful +laughter, but she caught it back, instinctively aware that she must keep +her strength--this unwonted strength of desperation that had come +to her--as long as possible. + +He heard her without emotion. His face was grim and mask-like, frozen +into hard, unyielding lines. + +"It is certainly best that I should know it," he said. "But I have not +yet heard all. How much did this Rodolphe charge for his silence?" + +She had almost answered him before she remembered, and checked the words +upon her lips. "No, I don't think I need tell you that," she said. + +"That is better than telling me a lie," he rejoined. "As a matter of +fact, there is no need, as you say, for you to tell me. I know what sum +he asked for, and I know how he obtained it." + +He spoke with steady conviction, his eyes unwaveringly upon her. For +seconds now she had endured his look without flinching. As she had said, +there was nothing left for her to fear. But at his words her face +changed, and unmistakable apprehension took the place of despair. + +"No, no!" she said quickly. "He did not obtain it in that way. At +least--at least--Trevor, I swear to you that Bertrand knew nothing of +that." + +"You need not take that trouble," he said coldly. + +She gripped her hands together. "You don't believe me--but it is the +truth. Bertrand never knew that I had heard from Captain Rodolphe." + +"You deceived him too, then?" Pitilessly he asked the question. He also +had begun to feel that nothing could ever matter any more. + +She wrung her hands in anguish. Her face was still raised to his, white +and strained and desperate--the face of a woman who would never dissemble +with him again. "Yes," she said, "I deceived him too." + +"Then"--slowly he uttered the words--"it was you who forged my name upon +that cheque? It actually was you whom he was shielding? And you tell me +that he did not know what it was for?" + +"He did not know," she said. She would not have given such an explanation +of her own volition at that moment, but--since upon this point she could +not tell him the truth--it was simpler to let it pass. What did it +matter, after all? Let him think her a thief also if he would! She was +past caring what he thought. + +"And when do you expect to meet again?" Mordaunt asked, with great +distinctness. + +She flinched as if he had struck her. "Oh, haven't you tortured me +enough?" she said. + +His jaw hardened. He stepped suddenly to her and took her by the +shoulders. His eyes appalled her. It was as if a devil looked out of +them. She shrank away from him in sheer physical terror. + +"Oh, you needn't be afraid," he said. "I shan't hurt you. Why should I? +You are nothing to me. But--for the last time--let me hear you speak the +truth. You love this man?" + +The words, curt and cold, might have fallen from the lips of a stranger, +so impersonal were they, so utterly devoid of any emotion. + +Wide-eyed, she faced him, for she could not look away with his hands upon +her, compelling her. + +"You love this man?" he repeated, his speech still cold but incisive--a +sharp weapon probing for the truth. + +She caught her quivering nerves together, and valiantly answered him. "I +do!" she said. "I do!" And as she spoke, the power within her surged +upwards, defying constraint, dominating her with a mastery irresistible. +She suddenly stripped her heart bare of all reserve and showed him the +love that agonized there. "I have always loved him!" she said. "I shall +love him till I die!" + +It was a woman's confession, in which triumph and anguish were strangely +mingled. In a calmer moment she would never have made it, but that moment +was supreme, and she had no choice. Regardless of all consequences, she +told the burning truth. She would have told it with his hands upon her +throat. + +In the silence that followed the avowal she even waited for violence. But +she was unafraid. The greatness of the power that possessed her had +lifted her above all fear. She trod the heights where fear is not. And +all-unconsciously, in that moment she won a battle which she had deemed +irrevocably lost. + +Mordaunt's hands fell from her, setting her free. "In Heaven's name," he +said, "why didn't you go with him?" + +She did not understand his tone. It held neither anger nor contempt, and +so quiet was it that she could still have fancied it almost indifferent. +Yet, inexplicably, it cut her to the heart. + +"I'll tell you the truth!" she said, a little wildly. "I--I would have +gone with him. I offered--I begged--to go. But he--he sent me back." + +"Why?" Again that deadly quietness of utterance, as though, indeed, a +dead man spoke. + +Her throat began to work spasmodically, though she had no desire to weep. +She felt as if her heart were bleeding from a mortal wound. + +With an effort that nearly choked her, she made reply. + +"He said--it was--my duty." + +"Your duty!" He repeated the word deliberately. Though the devil had gone +out of his eyes, she could not meet them any longer. Not that she feared +to do so; but the pain at her heart was intolerable, and it was his look, +his voice, that made it so. + +Almost as if he divined this, he turned quietly from her. He walked to +the window and opened it wide, as if he felt suffocated. The wind was +moaning desolately through the trees. There was the scent of coming rain +in the air. + +He spoke with his back to her, without apparent effort. "I release you +from your duty," he said. "Go to him! Go to him--now!" + +She gazed at him, dumbfounded, not breathing. But he remained motionless, +his hands clenched, his face to the night. + +"Go to him!" he repeated. "I shall set you free--at once. Go--and tell +him so!" + +Then, as still she neither moved nor spoke, he slowly turned and looked +at her. + +From head to foot she felt his eyes comprehend her, and from head to +foot, under his look, she shuddered. She spoke no word; she was as one +paralysed. + +Very quietly he pulled the window to behind him, still with his eyes upon +her. In that moment he was complete master of himself. He stood aloof, +shrouded, as it were, in an icy calm. She had no clue to his thoughts. +She only knew that by some means, inexplicable and irresistible, he bound +her even as he set her free. + +"You understand me?" he said, his voice cold, level, pitilessly distinct. +"It is my last word upon the subject. You and I have done with each +other. Go!" + +It was literally his last word. As he uttered it, his eyes fell away from +her. He crossed the room with even, unhurried tread, opened the +intervening door that led into his own, passed through with no backward +glance, and shut it steadily behind him. + +As for Chris, she stood numbly gazing after him till only the panels of +the door met her look. And then, her strength leaving her, without sound +she sank downwards and lay crumpled, inanimate, broken, upon the floor. + + + + +PART IV + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE REFUGEE + + +Autumn on a Yorkshire moor. + +Hilda Davenant leaned back and looked from her sketch to the moor with +slight dissatisfaction in her calm eyes. + +"What's the matter with it?" said Lord Percy. + +He was lying in the faded heather beside her, sucking grass-stems with +bovine enjoyment. He surveyed the faint pucker on his wife's forehead +with lazy amusement. + +She looked down at him. "It isn't nearly good enough." + +He laughed comfortably. "Put it away! It'll do for my birthday. I shan't +look at it from an artist's point of view." + +She smiled a little. "Oh, any daub would do for you. You simply don't +know what art is." + +"Exactly," he rejoined tranquilly. "Any daub will do, provided your hand +lays on the colours. But nothing less than that would satisfy me. Come! +Isn't that a pretty speech? And you didn't angle for it either!" He +caught her hand and rubbed it against his cheek. "You are civilizing me +wonderfully," he declared. "I never knew how to make pretty speeches +before I met you." + +"Surely I never taught you that!" she protested. "I am never guilty of +empty compliments myself." + +"Nor I," smiled her husband. "I say what I think to you always. Now what +do you say to coming for a stretch? There's an hour left before I need +buzz down to the station and meet Jack. You will admit I have been very +good and patient all this time. Pack up your painting things, and I'll +trek back to the house with them." + +"No. We will go together," Hilda said. "Why not?" + +"I thought you would prefer to sit and admire the landscape," he said. + +She smiled and made no response. + +"A case in point!" laughed Lord Percy. "But here the compliment would not +have been empty since you obviously prefer my company to the solitude of +a Yorkshire moor." + +She looked at him with the smile still in her eyes, but she did not put +the compliment into words. Only, as she rose to leave the scene of her +labours, she slipped her hand within his arm. + +"I have been thinking a great deal of Chris lately," she said. "I wish +she would write to me again." + +"I thought your mother was there," said Lord Percy. + +"She has been. I believe she left them yesterday. But then, she does not +give me any detailed news of Chris. I have a feeling that I can't get rid +of that the child is unhappy." + +"She has no right to be," rejoined her husband. "She's married about the +best fellow going." + +"Who understands her about as thoroughly as you understand art." + +"Oh, come!" he remonstrated. "Mordaunt is not quite such a fool as that! +The little monkey ought to be happy enough--unless she tries to play fast +and loose with him. Then, I grant you, there would be the devil to pay." + +Hilda smiled. "I can't help feeling anxious about her. It has always been +my fear that, when the glamour of first love is past, Trevor might +misjudge her. She is so gay and bright that many people think her empty. +I know my mother does for one." + +"Your mother might," he conceded. "Trevor wouldn't--being a man of +considerable insight. Tell you what, though, if you want to satisfy +yourself on the score of Chris's happiness, we will get them to put us up +for a night when we leave here for town three weeks hence. How will that +suit you?" + +"I should love it, of course," she said. "But wouldn't it be rather far +out of our way?" + +"I daresay the car won't mind," said Lord Percy. + +They walked back to the house that a friend had lent for their +three-months' honeymoon. It nestled in a hollow amongst trees, the long +line of moors stretching above it. They were well out of the beaten +track. Few tourists penetrated to their paradise. Near the house was a +glade with a miniature waterfall that filled the place with music. + +"That waterfall makes for laziness," Lord Percy was wont to declare, and +many were the happy hours they had spent beside it. + +They passed it by without lingering to-day, however, for both were +feeling energetic. Briskly they crossed the little lawn before the house, +and entered by a French window. + +"Better secure some refreshments before we go on the tramp," suggested +Lord Percy. "I've got a thirst already. Hullo! What on earth--" + +He broke off in amazement. A slight figure had risen up suddenly from a +settee in a dark corner; and a woman's face, wild-eyed and tragic, +confronted them. + +"Great Scott! Who is it?" said Lord Percy Davenant. + +And "Chris!" exclaimed Hilda, at the same moment. + +As for Chris, she stood a second, staring at them; then: "Trevor has +turned me out, so I've come to you," she said her white lips moving +stiffly. "I've nowhere else to go." + +With the words she stumbled forward, feeling vaguely out before her as +though she saw not. Hilda started towards her on the instant, caught her, +folded warm arms about her, held her fast. + +"My darling!" she said, and again, "My darling!" + +But Chris heard not, nor saw, nor felt. She had reached the end of her +strength, and black darkness had closed down upon her agony, blotting out +all things. She sank senseless in her cousin's embrace.... + +It was long before they brought her back, so long that Hilda became +frightened and dispatched her husband in the motor for a doctor, wholly +forgetting her brother's expected visit in her anxiety. + +Lord Percy ultimately returned with the local practitioner, whom he had +dragged almost by force from the bedside of a patient ten miles away. He, +too, had forgotten Jack, but remembered him as he set down the doctor, +and whirled away again in a cloud of dust, leaving him to announce +himself. + +Chris had by that time recovered consciousness, in response to Hilda's +strenuous efforts, but she had scarcely spoken a word. She lay on the +sofa in the drawing-room, cold from head to foot, and shivering +spasmodically at intervals. She drank the wine that Hilda brought her +with shuddering docility; but it seemed to have no effect upon her. It +was as if the blood had frozen at her very heart. + +"Get her to bed," were the doctor's orders, and he himself carried Chris +up to Hilda's room. + +She was perfectly passive in their hands, but quite incapable of the +smallest effort, and so painfully apathetic that Hilda grew more and more +uneasy. She had never imagined that her gay, light-hearted Chris could be +thus. It wrung her heart to see her. She was like a dainty flower crushed +into the dust of the highway. + +"Nervous prostration consequent upon severe mental strain," was the +doctor's verdict later. "You will have to take great care of her, and +keep her absolutely quiet, or I can't be answerable for the consequences. +She is in a very critical state, and"--he paused a moment--"I think her +husband ought to be with her." + +"Ah!" Hilda said, and no more. + +He passed the matter over. "Don't let her talk at all if you can prevent +it, and reassure her in every way possible. I will send a composing +draught, or she will be in a high fever before the morning." + +"You fear for the brain?" Hilda hazarded. + +"I fear--many things," he answered uncompromisingly. + +He took his departure just as Lord Percy and his guest arrived, and Hilda +paused upon the step to greet her brother. + +He sprang from the car before it came to a standstill, and she saw on the +instant that he was in a towering fury. Jack Forest, the kindly, the +easy-going, the careless, was actually white with anger. + +He scarcely stopped to greet her. "Where is Chris?" he demanded. + +"She is in bed," Hilda answered, seeing he had heard the whole story. +"No," as he turned inwards, "you can't see her. Indeed you mustn't, Jack. +The doctor says--" + +"Damn the doctor!" said Jack. "I'm going to see her, in bed or not. Where +is she?" + +He was half-way upstairs with the words, and Hilda's protest fell upon +empty air. She could only follow and look on. + +Jack opened the first door he came to, and found himself in Chris's +presence. He strode straight across the room, as one who had a perfect +right, stooped over her as she lay, and gathered her up into his arms. + +"My little sweetheart!" he said, and kissed her fiercely over and over +again. + +That woke her from her lethargy, as no more tender ministrations could +have done. She wound her arms about his neck, and clung to him like a +lost child. + +"Oh, Jack!" she said. "Oh, Jack!" and burst into an agony of tears. + +Hilda closed the door softly, and went away. Jack's treatment seemed the +best, after all. + +When she saw him again he was quite calm, but there was about him a +grimness of purpose with which she was not familiar. He drew her aside. + +"Look here! I can't sleep on this. I'm going to see Trevor--at once. If I +don't bring him to reason, I shall probably shoot him; but I haven't told +her that. All she wants is to be left in peace, and peace she shall have, +whatever the cost." + +"But, my dear boy, quarrelling with Trevor on her behalf won't make for +peace," Hilda ventured to point out. + +He acknowledged the truth of this with a brief nod. "All the same, I'm +damned if I'll stand by and see him wreck her life. Let me know how she +goes on. Send a wire to the club to-morrow. No, don't! I'll wire to you +first, and let you know where I am. I'm going straight back to the +station now. With any luck I ought to catch the afternoon express. +Where's Percy?" + +"You must have something to eat," urged Hilda. "You've had nothing +whatever." + +He frowned impatiently. "Oh, rats! I can feed on board. I shan't starve." + +But she knew, with sure intuition, that the moment he was out of her +presence all thought of refreshment would leave his mind. + +She saw him go, and then returned to Chris. + +She found her sitting up in bed, rocking herself to and fro, and crying, +crying, crying, the tears of utter despair. But this distress, despite +its violence, was better--Hilda knew it instinctively--than her former +cold inertia. She gathered her to her breast, and held her close pressed +till her anguish had somewhat spent itself. + +By degrees and haltingly the story of Chris's tragedy was unfolded. + +"I've told Jack everything," she said at last. "And now I've told you, +but we won't ever talk about it any more. Jack is going to see Trevor, +and--and try to make him understand. I didn't want him to, but he would +do it. But he has promised me that Trevor shan't follow me here. Do you +think he will be able to prevent him? Do you? Do you?" + +She shuddered afresh uncontrollably at the bare thought, and Hilda had +some difficulty in calming her. + +"Dearest, I am sure he will never come to you against your will," she +said, with conviction. "I am sure you needn't be afraid. But oh, Chris, +my darling, he is your husband. Always remember that!" + +"I know! I know!" Feverishly Chris made answer, and Hilda knew that +she must not pursue this subject. "But I can never see him again, +never--never--never! I think it would kill me. Besides--besides--" She +broke off inarticulately, and Hilda did not press her to finish. + +She found that she must not speak much of Bertrand either, though she did +venture to ask why the Valpre escapade had ever been kept from Trevor in +the first place. + +"I really can't quite explain," Chris answered wearily. "When it dawned +on me that vile things had been said and actually a duel fought because +of it I felt as if I would rather die than let him know. Besides, at the +back of my mind, I think I somehow always knew--though I did not +realize--that--Bertie--came first with me, and I--I was terrified lest +Trevor should suspect it. Of course it doesn't matter now," she ended. +"He knows it all, and--as he says--we have done with each other." She +uttered a long, quivering sigh, and turned her face into the pillow. + +"My darling, so long as you both live, that can never be," Hilda said +very earnestly. "Whatever mistakes you have made, you are still his and +he is yours. Nothing can alter that." + +"He doesn't think so," said Chris. "In fact, he--he told me to go to +Bertie, so that--so that"--she shivered again--"he could set me free." + +"Oh, Chris, he did--that?" + +"Yes, I think he meant it for my sake as much as for his own. But I +couldn't do it. You see, I don't know where Bertie has gone for one +thing. And then--I know Bertie would have thought it wrong. You see"--the +tears were running down her face again--"we love each other so much, +and--and love like ours is holy. He said so." + +"I wonder how he learned that," Hilda said. "It is not a creed that most +men hold." + +"But Bertie is not like most men." Very softly came Chris's answer, and +through her tears her eyes shone with the light that is kindled by +nothing earthly. "Bertie has come through a great deal of suffering," she +said. "It has taught him to know the good from the bad. And--he said I +shouldn't be ruined for his sake. As if I cared for that!" she ended, +smiling wanly. + +"Thank God he did for you!" Hilda said. + +"Oh, do you think it matters?" said Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A MIDNIGHT VISITOR + + +It was a dark, wet night. The rain streamed from the gutters and pattered +desolately on the pavement below. It had rained for hours. + +Trevor Mordaunt sat alone, with a pipe between his teeth, his windows +flung wide to the empty street, and listened to the downpour. He had +arrived in town that afternoon to make a few necessary arrangements +before leaving England. These arrangements completed, there was nothing +left to do but to await the next morning for departure. + +It was not easy, that waiting. He faced it with grim fortitude, realizing +the futility of going to bed. It was possible that he might presently +doze in his chair, but ordinary sleep was out of the question, and he +would not trouble himself to court it. Tossing all night sleepless on his +pillow was a refinement of torture that he did not feel called upon to +bear. + +He had spent the previous night tramping the country-side, but he could +not tramp in London, and though he was not aware of fatigue, he knew the +necessity for bodily rest existed, and he compelled himself to take it. + +So he sat motionless, listening to the rain, while the hours crawled by. + +The roar of London traffic rose from afar, for the night was still. Now +and then a taxi whirred through the sloppy street, but there were few +wayfarers. Once a boy passed whistling, and the man at the window above +stiffened a little, as if in some fashion the careless melody stirred +him, but as the whistler turned the corner he relaxed again with his head +back, and resumed his attitude of waiting. + +It was nearly midnight when a taxi hummed up to the flaring lamp-post +before the house, and stopped to discharge its occupant. Mordaunt heard +the vehicle, but his eyes were closed and he did not trouble to open +them. He had laid aside his pipe, and actually seemed to be on the verge +of dozing at last. The window-curtain screened him from the view of any +in the street, and it did not occur to him that the new arrival could be +in any way connected with himself. + +It was, therefore, with a hint of surprise that he turned his head at the +opening of the door. + +"Mr. Wyndham to see you, sir," said Holmes. "Says it's very particular, +sir." + +"Who? Oh, all right. Show him in." A bored note sounded in Mordaunt's +voice. "And you needn't sit up, Holmes. I'll let him out," he added. + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes, without enthusiasm. He never liked to +retire before his master. + +Mordaunt rose with a faint touch of impatience. He expected to see Max, +and wondered that the news of his arrival in town had reached him so +quickly. But it was Rupert who entered, and turned to satisfy himself +that the door was shut before he advanced to greet his brother-in-law. + +Mordaunt stood by the window and watched the precaution with a certain +grim curiosity. He fancied he could guess the reason of this midnight +visitation, but as the boy came towards him and halted in the full light +he saw that he was mistaken. There was no indignant questioning visible +on Rupert's face. It looked only grey and haggard and desperate. + +"Look here," he said, speaking jerkily, as if it were only by a series of +tense efforts that he spoke at all. "I've come to tell you something. I +don't know how you'll take it. And I may as well admit--that I'm horribly +afraid. Do you mind if I have a drink--just to help me through?" + +Mordaunt closed the window, and came quietly forward. Just for a moment +he fancied that Rupert had already fortified himself in the manner +indicated for the ordeal of meeting him, and then again he realized that +he was mistaken. The eyes that looked into his were perfectly sane, but +they held an almost childlike appeal that made his heart contract +suddenly. He bit his lip savagely. Why on earth couldn't the fellow have +left him alone for this one night at least? + +He forced himself to be temperate, but there was no warmth in his tone as +he said, "I've no objection to your having a drink if you want it. I +suppose you've got into a scrape again, and want me to help you out?" + +"No, it's not that--at least, not in the sense you mean." + +Hurriedly Rupert made answer. He looked for a moment at the glasses on +the table, but he did not attempt to help himself. Suddenly he shivered. + +"Ye gods! What an infernal night! I had to walk ever so far before I +found a taxi. I came up by the evening train--couldn't get off duty +sooner. I thought you would be off to Dover before I got here. And I--and +I--" He broke off blankly and became silent, as if he had forgotten what +he had meant to say. + +Mordaunt leaned over the table, and mixed a drink with the utmost +steadiness. "Sit down," he said. "And now drink this, and pull yourself +together. There's nothing to be in a funk about, so take your time." + +He spoke with authority, but his manner had the aloofness of one not +greatly interested in the matter in hand. He resented the boy's +intrusion, that was all. + +Rupert accepted his hospitality in silence. This obvious lack of interest +increased his difficulties tenfold. + +Mordaunt went back to his chair by the window, and relighted his pipe. He +knew he was being cold-blooded, but he felt absolutely incapable of +kindling any warmth. There seemed to be no warmth left in him. + +Rupert gulped down his drink, and buried his face in his hands. He felt +that the thing he had come to do was beyond his power to accomplish. He +could not make his confession to a stone image. And yet he could not go, +leaving it unmade. + +In the long pause that followed it almost seemed as if Mordaunt had +forgotten his presence in the room. The minutes ticked away, and he made +no sign. + +At last, desperately, Rupert lifted his head. "Trevor!" + +Mordaunt looked at him. Then, struck possibly by the misery of the boy's +attitude, he laid down his pipe and turned towards him. + +"Well, what is it?" + +Vehemently Rupert made answer. "For pity's sake, don't freeze me up like +this, man! I--I--oh, can't you give me a lead?" he broke off desperately. + +"You see, I don't know in the least what you have come to say," Mordaunt +pointed out. "If it has anything to do with--recent events"--he spoke +with great distinctness--"I can only advise you to leave it alone, since +no remonstrance from you will make the smallest difference." + +"But it hasn't," groaned Rupert. "At least, of course, it's in connection +with that. But I've come to try and tell you the truth--something you +don't know and never will know if I don't tell you. And--Heaven help +me!--I'm such a cur--I don't know how to get through with it." + +That reached Mordaunt, stirring him to activity almost against his will. +He found himself unable to look on unmoved at his young brother-in-law's +distress. He left his chair and moved back to the table. + +"I don't know what you've got to be afraid of," he said, with a touch of +kindliness in his tone that deprived it of its remoteness. "I'm not +feeling particularly formidable. What have you been doing?" + +Rupert groaned again and covered his face. "You'll be furious enough +directly. But it's not that exactly that I mind. It's--it's the +disgusting shabbiness of it. We Wyndhams are such a rotten lot, we don't +see that part of the business till afterwards." + +"Hadn't you better come to the point?" suggested Mordaunt. "We can talk +about that later." + +"No, we can't," said Rupert, with conviction. "You'll either throw me out +of the window or kick me downstairs directly you know the truth." + +"I'm not in the habit of doing these things," Mordaunt remarked, with the +ghost of a smile. + +"But this is an exceptional case." Rupert straightened himself abruptly, +and turned in his chair, meeting the quiet eyes. "Damn it, I'll tell +you!" he said, springing to his feet with sudden resolution. "Trevor, +I--I'm an infernal blackguard! I forged that cheque!" + +"You!" Sternly Mordaunt uttered the word. He moved a step forward and +looked Rupert closely in the face. "Are you telling me the truth?" he +said. + +"I am." Rupert faced him squarely, though his eyelids quivered a little. +"I'm not likely to lie to you in this matter. I've nothing to gain and +all to lose. And I shouldn't have told you--anyway now--if Noel hadn't +come over this morning with the news that you had kicked out your +secretary for the offence I had committed. Even I couldn't stick that, so +I've come to own up--and take the consequences." + +He braced himself, almost as if he expected a blow. But Mordaunt remained +motionless, studying him keenly, and for many seconds he did not utter a +word. + +At last, "Bertrand knew of this," he said, in a tone that held more of +conviction than interrogation. + +"No, he didn't. He knew nothing, or, if he did, it was sheer guess-work. +I never suspected that he knew." Rupert's hands were clenched. He was +face to face with the hardest task he had ever undertaken. + +"He knew, for all that." Mordaunt's brows contracted; he seemed to be +following out a difficult problem. + +Finally, to Rupert's relief, he turned aside. "Go on," he said. "I'll +hear the whole of it now. What did you do with the money?" + +Rupert's teeth closed upon his lower lip. "That's the only question I +can't answer." + +"Why not?" The question was curt, and held no compromise. + +"Private reasons," Rupert muttered. + +"Family reasons would be more accurate," Mordaunt rejoined, in the same +curt tone. "You gave it to--Chris." + +The momentary hesitation before the name did not soften its utterance. It +came with a precision almost brutal. + +Rupert made a slight movement, and stood silent. + +"You are not going to deny it?" Mordaunt observed, glancing at him. + +He turned his face away. "What's the good?" + +"Just so. You had better tell me the whole truth. It will save trouble." + +"But I don't see that there is anything more to tell." Rupert spoke +with an effort. "I stole the cheque in the first place--that Sunday +afternoon--you remember? I was a bit top-heavy at the time. That's no +excuse," he threw in. "I daresay I should have done it in any case. +But--well, you know the state of mind I was in that day. You had just +been beastly generous, too. And that reminds me; you left your keys +behind, do you remember? I came in for another drink and saw them. The +temptation came then, and I never stopped to think till the thing was +done. Bertrand nearly caught me in the act. He didn't suspect anything at +the time, but he may have remembered afterwards." + +"Probably," said Mordaunt. "You weren't frank with me that day, then? +There were debts you didn't mention." + +Rupert nodded. "You were a bit high-handed with me. That choked me off. +Still, though in an evil moment I took the cheque out of your book, I +loathed myself for it afterwards. I hadn't the strength of mind to +destroy it, or the courage to send it back. But"--he turned back again +and met Mordaunt's eyes--"I wasn't going to use it, though I was cur +enough to keep it, and to like to feel it was there in case of emergency. +I didn't mean to use it--on my oath, I didn't. I don't expect you to +believe me, but it's true." + +"I believe you," Mordaunt said quietly. "And--the emergency arose?" + +Rupert nodded again. "Chris came to me--in great distress. Couldn't tell +me what she wanted it for. You weren't to know, neither was Bertrand. She +couldn't use her own without your finding out. And so--as it seemed +urgent--in fact, desperate--and as it was for her--" He broke off. "No, I +won't shelter myself in that way. I did it on my own. She didn't know. No +one knew. If Bertrand suspected, he must have thought I took it for my +own purposes. Heaven knows what she wanted it for, but she was most +emphatic that it shouldn't get round to him." + +"And you tell me she did not know how you obtained the money? Are you +certain of that?" Mordaunt's tone was deliberate; he spoke as one who +meant to have the truth. + +"Why, man, of course I am! What do you take her for? Chris--my +sister--your wife--" + +"Stop!" The word was brief, and very final. "We need not go into that. +She may not have known at the time, but she suspected afterwards. In +fact, she knew." + +"Is that what you quarrelled about?" Eagerly Rupert broke in. "Noel tried +to get it out of her, but she wouldn't tell him. You'll find out where +she's gone, and set it right? She can't be very far away." + +"That," Mordaunt said, in a tone from which the faintest hint of feeling +was excluded, "is beside the point. We will not discuss it." + +"But--" Rupert began. + +"We will not discuss it." Mordaunt repeated the words in the same utterly +emotionless voice, and Rupert found it impossible to continue. "In fact, +there seems to be nothing further to discuss of any sort. Can I put you +up for the night?" + +Rupert stared at him. + +"Well?" Mordaunt's brows went up a little. + +"Are you in earnest?" the boy burst out awkwardly. "I mean--I mean--don't +you want to--to--give me a sound kicking?" + +"Not in the least." A steely glint shone for a moment in the grey eyes. +"I don't think that sort of treatment does much good, as a rule. And I +have not the smallest desire to administer it. If you think you deserve +it, I should imagine that is punishment enough." + +Rupert swung round sharply on his heel. "All right. I'm going. If you +want me, you know where to find me. I shan't run away. And I shan't try +to back out. What I've said I shall stick to--if it means perdition." + +"And what about the Regiment?" Quietly Mordaunt's voice arrested him +before he reached the door. "Or doesn't the Regiment count?" + +Rupert stopped dead, but he did not turn. "The Regiment"--he said--"the +Regiment"--he choked suddenly--"they'll be damned well rid of me," he +ended, somewhat incoherently. + +"Come back!" Mordaunt said. + +He made an irresolute movement, but did not comply. + +"Rupert!" There was authority in the quiet voice. + +Unwillingly Rupert turned. He came back unsteadily, with features that +had begun to twitch. + +Mordaunt moved to meet him. The coldness had gone out of his eyes. He +took Rupert's arm, and brought him back to the table. + +"I think you had better let me put you up," he said. "You can sleep in my +room; I'm not wanting it for to-night. There, sit down. You mustn't be a +fool, you know. You are played out, and want a rest." + +"I--I'm all right," Rupert said. + +He made as if he would withdraw his arm, but changed his intention, and +stood tense, battling with himself. + +"Oh, man!" he burst out at last, hoarsely, "you--you don't know what +a--what a--cur I feel! I--I--I--" Words failed him abruptly; he flung +round and sank down again at the table with his head on his arms, too +humbled to remember his manhood any longer. + +"My dear fellow, don't!" Mordaunt said. He put his hand on the boy's +heaving shoulders and kept it there. "There's no sense in letting +yourself go. The thing is done, and there is no more to be said, since +neither you nor I can undo it. Come, boy! Pull yourself together. I am +going to forget it, and you can do the same. I think you had better go to +bed now. We shall have time for a talk in the morning. What?" He stooped +to catch a half-audible sentence. + +"You'll never forget it," gasped Rupert. + +"Yes, I shall--if you will let me. It rests with you. I never wish to +speak or think of it again. I have plenty of other things to think about, +and so have you. That's settled, then. I am going to see if I can find +you something to eat." + +He stood up. His face had softened to kindness. He patted Rupert's +shoulder before he turned away. + +"Buck up, old chap!" he said gently, and went with quiet tread from the +room. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A FRUITLESS ERRAND + + +"Hullo, Jack!" Noel sprang to meet his cousin with the bound of a young +panther. "Where on earth have you come from? My good chap, you're +positively drenched! You've never walked up from the station!" + +"And missed the way twice," said Jack grimly. He shook Noel off without +ceremony. "Where is Trevor? I have come to see him." + +"Oh, he's cleared out; went to town this afternoon, says he's going to +Paris to-morrow. There's been no end of a shine, you know. Chris bolted +last night. Heaven only knows where she's gone. I think she might have +told me first." + +"I can tell you," said Jack. "She is with Hilda at Graysdale. I have just +come from there. Trevor is in town, you say?" + +Noel nodded. "Bertrand's gone too, you know. That was the beginning of +it. Trevor kicked him out for robbing him. Beastly little thief! I told +Trevor he would long ago. I say, you are not going again!" + +Jack, still standing on the mat, was consulting his watch. "If there is +another up train to-night I must catch it. There's a motor here, isn't +there? Send round word that it is wanted." + +"But there isn't a train!" Noel protested. "I know the last one goes at +nine-fifty, and it's past ten now. Have you all gone raving mad? I always +thought you, anyhow, had a little sense." + +Jack uttered a grim laugh. "Well, find a time-table. I must go by the +first train in the morning, whatever the hour. I've got to see Trevor +before he leaves England." + +"You won't get any sense out of him," Noel remarked. "I told him he was a +beastly cad myself before he went, and he didn't even punch my head. Oh, +I say, Jack, this place is pretty ghastly with no one in it. I can't +stick it much longer." + +"Just get me a drink," Jack said, "and we will discuss your affairs at +length." + +Noel departed with his customary expedition. He returned with drinks for +two, which he proceeded to mix with a lavish hand. + +"I'm not going to let you have that," Jack observed. "You have dined, and +I haven't. Get me some food like a good chap, and then we will have a +talk." + +Noel submitted meekly. He was fond of Jack. Returning with sufficient to +satisfy his cousin's immediate needs, he seated himself on the table +while he ate, and embarked upon a more detailed account of the happenings +of the past two days. + +"I only saw Chris for a few minutes," he said in conclusion. "She looked +pretty desperate, and seemed horribly scared. But she wouldn't tell me +why. I knew there was something up, of course. Trevor had told me she was +upset about Bertrand. But I had no idea she was going to cut and run. I +don't know if Trevor had, but I couldn't get anything out of him. It's my +belief the silly ass was jealous." + +Jack grunted. + +"I didn't know what to do," Noel ended. "So I thought I'd stick on here +till someone turned up." + +"You ought to be going back to school," Jack remarked. + +Noel leaned carelessly down upon his elbow and looked him straight in the +eyes. "I'm not going," he said. + +"Why not?" + +"I've other things to think about. I'm going to Graysdale. Can you lend +me a couple of quid for the journey? I'll pay you back when I come of +age." + +Jack surveyed him with one brow uplifted. "Suppose I can't?" + +"I shall tramp, that's all." Noel made unconcerned response. He was +accustomed to fend for himself, and the prospect of such an adventure was +rather alluring than otherwise. + +Jack smiled a little. He liked the boy's independence. "What do you want +to go to Graysdale for?" he asked. + +"To look after Chris, of course." + +"Hilda can do that." + +"Not in the same way. You needn't try to put me off. I'm going." Noel got +off the table with his hands in his pockets and broke into a whistle. + +Jack went on with his meal in silence. + +Finally Noel came round and stood beside him. "That's understood, is it?" +he said. "One of us ought to be with her, and as you and Rupert are +chasing after Trevor, and Max is in town, it looks like my job. Anyhow, +I'm going to take it on." + +"All right," Jack said. "Go and prosper. I'm not sure that you will be +wanted. But that's a detail. I daresay Chris may like to have you." + +Noel grinned boyishly. "You're a white man, Jack! I'm jolly glad you +turned up. Between ourselves, I don't mind telling you that I've been in +a fairly stiff paste all day. It's a beastly feeling, isn't it? I'd have +looked after her better if I'd known." + +"You're a white man too," said Jack kindly. "Mind you behave like one." + +They parted for the night soon after, to meet again very early in the +morning, and finally separate upon their various errands. + +Noel departed upon his in obviously high spirits; but he maintained his +air of responsibility notwithstanding, and Jack took leave of him with a +smile of approval. + +He himself telegraphed to Hilda as soon as he arrived in town, and +acquainted her with the fact of the boy's advent. He directed her to send +her answering message to him at Mordaunt's rooms, and then proceeded +thither with the firm determination to see the owner thereof without +further delay. + +Holmes admitted him, and imparted the information that his master was at +breakfast with the eldest Mr. Wyndham, who had arrived overnight. + +Jack's jaw hardened at the news. He had not expected to find Rupert +accepting his brother-in-law's hospitality. He shrugged his shoulders +over the volatility of the Wyndhams, and announced curtly that he desired +to see Mr. Mordaunt in private. + +"Will you come into the smoking-room, sir?" asked Holmes. + +"Certainly. But tell him I can't wait," said Jack. + +He marched into the smoking-room therewith, and Holmes softly closed the +door upon him. The window by which Mordaunt had sat all night long was +open, and the sounds of the street below came cheerily in. Jack crossed +over and quietly shut it. + +Turning from this, his eyes fell upon a photograph on the mantelpiece. He +went up to it and took it between his hands. Gaily the pictured face +laughed up at him--Chris in her happiest, wildest mood, with Cinders +clasped in her arms; Chris, the child of the sunny eyes that no shadow +had ever darkened! + +Something rose suddenly in Jack's throat. He gulped hard, and put the +portrait back. Was it indeed Chris--the broken-hearted woman he had held +in his arms but yesterday? Then was the Chris of the old days gone for +ever. + +Someone entered the room behind him and he wheeled round. + +"Good morning," said Mordaunt. + +He offered his hand, but Jack ignored it and his greeting alike. + +He stood for a couple of seconds in silence, looking at him, while +Mordaunt waited with absolute composure. Then, "I daresay you are +wondering what I have come for," he said. "Or perhaps you can guess." + +"Why should I?" Mordaunt said. + +Jack frowned abruptly. He had met this impenetrable mood before. But he +would not be baffled by it. It was no moment for subtleties. He went +straight to the point. + +"I have come to tell you that Chris is at Graysdale with Hilda," he said. + +Mordaunt's brows went up. He said nothing. + +But Jack was insistent. "Did you know that?" + +"I did not." Very deliberately came Mordaunt's answer; it held no emotion +of any sort. The subject might have been one of utter indifference to +him. + +"Then where did you think she was?" + +There was an undernote of ferocity in Jack's question, almost a hint of +menace; but Mordaunt seemed unaware of it. + +"Forgive me for saying so, Jack," he said. "But that is more my affair +than yours. I have nothing whatever to discuss with you, nor do I hold +myself answerable to you in any way for my actions." + +"But I do," Jack said curtly. "I have always held myself responsible for +Chris's welfare. And I do so still." + +Mordaunt listened unmoved. "You can hardly expect me to acknowledge your +authority," he said, "since my responsibility in that respect is greater +than yours." + +"I have no desire to dictate to you," Jack answered quickly. "But I do +claim the right to speak my mind on this matter. Remember, it was I who +first brought you into her life." + +Mordaunt shrugged his shoulders slightly. "As to that, I am fatalist +enough to believe that we should have met in any case. But isn't that +beside the point? I have declined to discuss the matter with anyone, and +I am not going to make an exception of you." + +"You must," Jack said. He threw back his shoulders as if bracing himself +for a physical conflict. He was plainly in earnest. + +Mordaunt turned to the table and sat down. "You are wasting your time," +he said. "Argument is quite useless. I have already decided upon my plan +of action, and quarrelling with you is no part of it." + +"What is your plan of action?" Jack demanded. + +Mordaunt took out his cigarette-case. "I shall start for Paris in a +couple of hours. Meantime"--he glanced up--"I suppose you won't smoke? +Have you had any breakfast?" + +"Then you mean to desert her?" Jack said. + +Mordaunt's face remained immovable. He began to smoke in dead silence. + +Jack's teeth clenched. "I am going to have an answer," he said. + +"Very well." Coldly the words fell; there was something merciless in +their very utterance. "Then I will answer you; but it is my last word +upon the subject. My wife followed her own choice in leaving me, and it +is my intention to abide by her decision. If you call that desertion--" + +"I do," Jack broke in passionately. "It is desertion, nothing less. She +left you--oh, I know all about it--she left you because you literally +scared her away. You terrified her into going; there was nothing else for +her to do. She had done nothing wrong. But you--you dared to suspect her +of Heaven knows what. You dared to think that Chris--my Chris--was +capable of playing you false, you who were the only man on earth I +thought good enough for her. And do you know what you have done? You have +broken her heart!" He took the portrait from the mantelpiece and thrust +it in front of the man at the table. "That," he said, and suddenly his +voice was quivering, "that was the child you married. I gave her into +your care willingly, though, God knows, I worshipped her. No, you didn't +cut me out. I was never in the running. I never so much as made love to +her. I always knew she was not for me. When she accepted you, I thought +it was the best thing that could possibly happen. I felt she would be +safe with you. You were the one fellow I would have chosen to guard her. +And she needed guarding. She was as innocent and as inexperienced as a +baby. She didn't know the world and its beastly ways. I thought you were +to be trusted to keep her out of the mud; I could have sworn you were. +But you withdrew your protection just when she needed it most. You +practically turned her out, cut her adrift. She might have gone straight +to the bad for all you cared. And now, like the damned blackguard that +you are, you are going to clear out and leave her to break her heart!" + +Fiercely the words rushed out. Jack, the placid, the kindly, the +careless, was for the moment electrified by a tornado of feeling that +swept him far beyond the bounds of his customary easy _bonhomie_. He +towered over the man in the chair as if at the first movement he would +fell him to the ground. + +But Mordaunt remained quite motionless. He had removed his cigarette, and +sat looking straight up at him with steely eyes that never changed. When +Jack ceased to speak, there fell a silence that was in a sense more +fraught with conflict than any war of words. + +Through it at length came Mordaunt's voice, measured and distinct and +cold. "It is not particularly wise of you to take that tone, but that is +your affair. I have already warned you that you are wasting your time. +Your championship is quite superfluous, and will do no good to anyone. +I think you will see this for yourself when you have taken time to think +it over. Wouldn't it be as well to do so before you go any further--for +your own sake, not for mine?" + +"I am not thinking of myself at the present moment," Jack responded +sternly, "or of you. I'm thinking of Chris--and Chris only. Man, do you +want to kill her? For you're going the right way to do it." + +The cigarette between Mordaunt's fingers slowly doubled and crumpled into +shapelessness, but the steely eyes never altered. They barred the way +inflexibly to the man's inmost soul. He uttered neither question nor +answer. + +But Jack was not to be silenced. "I tell you, she is ill," he said. "I +saw her myself yesterday. She was simply broken down. I never saw such a +change in anyone. I couldn't have credited it. Hilda is horribly anxious +about her. She is going to wire to me here as to her condition." + +"Why here?" Very calmly came the question. + +Jack explained. Almost in spite of himself his own heat had died down, +cooled by that icy deliberation. "I went to Kellerton yesterday in search +of you, found only Noel there, but had to spend the night as it was late. +I came on by the first train, and wired to Hilda to send her message here +in case you may be wanted. It ought to come through in about an hour." + +"And you propose to wait for it?" + +"Yes, I do." Jack paused an instant; then, "You must wait too," he said +doggedly. "She isn't very likely to want you, and I've sworn you shan't +frighten her any more; but you shan't abandon her either while there is +the faintest chance that she may want you." + +"There is not the faintest." Mordaunt glanced down at the thing that had +once been a cigarette which he still held between his fingers, +contemplated it for a moment, then rose and went to the mantelpiece for +an ash-tray. "You have taken a good deal upon yourself, Jack," he said. +"But I have borne with you because I know that your position is a +difficult one. You say you know everything. That may be so, and again +it may not. In either case, our points of view do not coincide. I will +wait until that telegram comes; but it is not my intention to go to my +wife--whatever it may contain." + +Jack bit his lip savagely. "In short, you don't care what happens to +her!" he said. "You want to be rid of her--one way or another. And you +don't care how!" + +He spoke recklessly, uttering the thought that had come uppermost in his +mind without an instant's consideration. Perhaps instinctively he sought +to rouse the devil that till then had been held in such rigid control. +But the effect of his words was such as he had scarcely looked for. + +Mordaunt turned with the movement of a goaded creature and gripped him by +the shoulder. "You believe that?" he said. + +They stood face to face. Mordaunt was as white as death. His eyes in that +moment were terrible. But it seemed to Jack that they expressed more of +anguish than of anger, and he felt as if he had seen a soul in torment. +He averted his own instinctively. It was a sight upon which he could not +look. + +"Do you believe it?" Mordaunt said, his voice very low. + +"No!" Impulsively Jack made answer. That instant's revelation had +quenched his own fire very effectually. "Forgive me!" he said. "I--didn't +understand." + +The hand on his shoulder relaxed slowly. There fell a silence. Then, "All +right, Jack," Mordaunt said very quietly. + +And Jack knew that he had dropped the veil again that shrouded his soul's +agony. + +"You will wait here for that telegram?" Mordaunt asked, after a moment. + +"Yes, please." + +"Will you come into the other room? Rupert is with me." + +"No. I'll wait here, thanks." + +"Very well. I shall see you again." Mordaunt crossed to the door, then +paused, and after a moment came slowly back to the table. + +He stood before it in silence, looking down upon the portrait that Jack +had laid there as one looks upon the face of the dead. + +His face showed no sign of softening, yet Jack made a last effort to move +him. "You're not going to let her fret her heart out for you? You'll go +back to her if she is wanting you? Damn it, Trevor! You can't know what +she is suffering! And after all--she is your wife!" + +Mordaunt's mouth hardened. He made no response. + +"Surely you don't--you can't--think evil of her?" Jack said. + +Mordaunt raised his eyes slowly. "You have said enough," he said, with +quiet emphasis. "As for this portrait, take it if you value it. I never +cared for it myself." + +"Never cared for it!" Jack ejaculated. + +"No. It never conveyed very much to me. I did not regard her in that +light." + +"Then you never knew her," Jack said with conviction. + +"Possibly not." Mordaunt turned away once more. "Most of us are blind," +he said, "until our eyes are opened. I am going to send you in some +breakfast if you are sure you prefer to stay here." + +He went out quietly, leaving Jack marvelling at his own docility. The +last thing he would have expected of himself was that at the end of the +interview he also would be accepting the hospitality of the man he had +come almost prepared to shoot. The turn of events forced him into a +species of unwilling admiration. There was no denying the fact that, +mismanage his own private affairs as he might, this was a born leader of +men. + +Mordaunt himself brought him his sister's telegram some time later. + +He remained in the room while Jack opened it, but he betrayed no +impatience to hear its contents. As for Jack, he stood for several +seconds with the message in his hand before he looked up. + +"I suppose you will have to see it," he said then reluctantly. + +"That is as you like." + +But though the words were emotionless, Mordaunt's eyes searched his face, +and in answer to them Jack held out the paper. + +"I am sorry," he said. + +"In no danger. Keep Trevor away," was the message it contained. + +"As I thought," Mordaunt observed, and handed it back without further +comment. + +"She will be wanting you presently," Jack said uneasily, "You know how +women change." + +And Mordaunt smiled, a grim, set smile. "Yes, I know," he answered. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART + + +The night was very hot, even hotter than the day had been. Only the +whirring electric fan kept the air moving. It might have been midsummer +instead of the end of September. + +Bertrand de Montville, seated in an easy-chair and propped by cushions, +raised his head from time to time and gasped for breath. He held a +newspaper in his hand, for sleep was out of the question. He had been +suffering severely during the day, but the pain had passed and only +weariness remained. His face was yet drawn with the memory of it, and his +eyes were heavily shadowed. But the inherent pluck of the man was still +apparent. His pride of bearing had not waned. + +He was reading with close attention a report upon the chief event of the +hour--the trial of Guillaume Rodolphe at Valpre. It had been in progress +for four days, and was likely to last for several more. The report he +read was from the pen of Trevor Mordaunt, an account clear and direct as +the man himself. So far the evidence had seemed to turn in Bertrand's +favour, and, his protestations notwithstanding, it was impossible not to +feel a quickening of the pulses as he realized this fact. Would they ever +send for him? He asked himself. Would they ever desire to do justice to +the man they had degraded? + +It was evident that the writer of the account before him thought so. +However Mordaunt's opinion of the man himself had altered, his conviction +on the subject of his innocence of that primary crime had plainly +remained unshaken. He had not allowed himself to be biased by +subsequent events. + +"And that is strange--that!" the Frenchman murmured, with his eyes +upon the article. "Perhaps _la petite Christine_ has convinced him. +But no--that is not probable." + +He broke off as the door opened, and a quick smile of welcome flashed +across his face. He stretched out both hands to the new-comer. + +"All right. Sit still," said Max. + +He sauntered across the room, his coat hanging open and displaying +evening dress, and gave his hand into Bertrand's eager clasp. It was a +very cool hand, and strong with a vitality that seemed capable of +imparting itself. + +He looked down at Bertrand with a queer glint of tenderness in his eyes. +"I shouldn't have come up at this hour," he said, "but I guessed you +would be awake. How goes it, old chap? Pretty bad, eh?" + +"No, I am better," Bertrand said. "I am glad that you came up." + +Max drew up a chair, and sat down beside his _protege_. For nearly three +weeks now Bertrand had been with him. A post-card written from a squalid +back-street lodging had been his first intimation that the Frenchman was +in London, and within two hours of receiving it Max had removed him to +the private nursing-home in which he himself was at that time domiciled. +For, notwithstanding his youth, Max Wyndham was a privileged person, and +owned as his greatest friend one of the most distinguished physicians in +London. + +His natural brilliance had brought him in the first place to the great +man's notice; and though he was but a medical student, his foot was +already firmly planted upon the ladder of success. There was little doubt +that one day--and that probably not many years distant--Max Wyndham would +be a great man too. Even as it was, his grip upon all things that +concerned the profession he had chosen was so prodigious that his patron +would upon occasion consult with him as an equal, detecting in him that +flare of genius which in itself is of more value than years of +accumulated knowledge. He had the gift of magnetism to an extraordinary +degree, and he coupled with it an unerring instinct upon which he was not +afraid to rely. Equipped thus, he was bound to come to the front, though +whether the Wyndham blood in him would suffer him to stay there was a +proposition that time alone could solve. + +His effect upon Bertrand was little short of magical. Sitting there +beside him with the wasted wrist between his fingers, and his green eyes +gazing at nothing in particular, there was little about him to indicate a +remarkable personality. Yet the drawn look passed wholly away from the +sick man's face, and he leaned back among his pillows with a restfulness +that he had been very far from feeling a few seconds earlier. + +"So you are reading all about the Rodolphe _affaire_," Max said +presently. + +"It is Mr. Mordaunt's own report," Bertrand explained. "It interests +me--that. I feel as if I heard him speak." + +Max grunted. He had asked no question as to the circumstances that had +led to Bertrand's departure, and Bertrand had volunteered no information. +It had been a closed subject between them by mutual consent. But to-night +for some reason Max approached it, warily, as one not sure of his ground. + +"When do you hope to see him again?" + +A slight flush rose in Bertrand's face. "Never--it is probable," he said +sadly. + +"Ah! Then you had a disagreement?" + +Bertrand looked at him questioningly. + +Max smiled a little. "No, it isn't vulgar curiosity. Fact is, I came +across my cousin Jack Forest to-day. You remember Jack Forest? I've been +dining with him at his club. We hadn't met for ages, and naturally we had +a good deal to say to one another." + +He paused, gently relinquishing his hold upon Bertrand's wrist, and +got up to pour something out of a bottle on the mantelpiece into a +medicine-glass. + +"Drink this, old chap," he said, "or I shall tire you out before I've +done." + +"You have something to say to me?" Bertrand said quickly. + +Max nodded. "I have. Drink first, and then I will tell you. That's the +way. You needn't be in a hurry. You were going to tell me about that +disagreement, weren't you? At least, I think you were. You have been rash +enough to trust me before." + +"But naturally," Bertrand said. He handed the glass back with a courteous +gesture of thanks. "And I have not had cause to regret it. I will tell +you why I disagreed with Mr. Mordaunt if you desire to know. It was +because he found that he had been robbed, and that I"--he spread out +his hands--"was the robber." + +Max stared. "Found that you had robbed him! You!" + +Bertrand nodded several times, but said no more. + +"I don't believe it," Max said with conviction. + +Bertrand smiled rather ruefully. "No? But yet the evidence was against +me. And me, I did not contradict the evidence." + +"I see. You were shielding someone. Who was it? Rupert?" + +At Bertrand's quick start Max also smiled with grim humour. "You see, I +know my own people rather well. I'm glad it wasn't Chris, anyway. Then +she had nothing at all to do with your quarrel with Trevor?" + +"Nothing," Bertrand said--"nothing." He paused a moment, then added, with +something of an effort, "But I had decided that I would go before that. +Mr. Mordaunt did not know why." + +"Because of Chris?" There was a touch of sharpness in Max's voice. + +Bertrand bent his head. "You were right that night. A man cannot hope to +hide his heart for ever from the woman whom he loves." + +"You told her, then?" + +"It arrived without telling," Bertrand answered with simplicity. + +"That means she cares for you?" Max said shrewdly. + +Bertrand looked up. "_Mais c'est passe_," he said, his voice very low. +"You have guessed the truth, but you only know it. Her husband--" + +"My dear fellow, that's just the mischief. He knows it too," Max said. + +"He!" Bertrand started upright. + +Instantly Max's hand was upon him, checking him. "Keep still, Bertrand! +You can't afford to waste your strength. Yes, Trevor knows. He knew on +the very day you left. He found out that that blackguard Rodolphe had +been blackmailing her. He had a scene with Chris, and she left him." + +"Rodolphe! _Le canaille! Est-ce possible? Alors_, she is not--not with +him--at Valpre--as I thought?" gasped Bertrand. + +"No. She has not been near him since. I knew nothing of this till to-day. +She hardly ever writes. I thought--as you did--that she had gone to +France with Trevor. Instead of that, Jack tells me, she has been with his +sister in Yorkshire all this time. She has been ill, is so still, I +believe. They are coming to town to-morrow, to Percy Davenant's flat. +Jack is very worried about it. He saw Trevor before he left England, but +couldn't get him to listen to reason. He seems to have made up his mind +to have no more to do with her, while she is fretting herself to a +skeleton over it, but daren't make the first move towards a +reconciliation. It probably wouldn't do any good if she did. He is as +hard as iron. And if his mind is once made up--" Max left the sentence +unfinished, and continued: "I think I shall go to Valpre and see what I +can do. This has gone on long enough, and we can't have Chris making +herself ill. I should think even he would see the force of that. This +trial business will be over in a few days, and if I don't catch him he +may go wandering, Heaven knows where. But it won't do. He must come back +to her. I shall tell him so." + +But at that Bertrand laid a nervous hand upon his arm. "My friend," he +said, "you will not persuade him." + +Max looked at him, and was confronted by eyes of gleaming resolution. "I +believe I shall," he said. "I can persuade most people." + +"You will not persuade him," Bertrand repeated. "That _scelerat_ has +poisoned his mind. Moreover, you do not even know what passed between +us." + +"I don't need to know," Max said curtly. + +Bertrand began to smile. "And you think you can plead your sister's cause +without knowing, _hein_? No, no! the affair is too much advanced. There +is only one man who can help the little Christine now. He would not +listen to you, _mon cher_, if you went. But--to me, he will listen, even +though he believes me to be a thief; for he is very just. I know that I +can make him understand. And for that I shall go to him to-morrow. As you +say, we cannot let _la petite_ fret." + +He spoke quite quietly, but his eyes were shining with a fire that had +not lit them for many a day. + +"My dear chap, you can't go. You're not fit for it." Max spoke with quick +decision. "I won't let you go, so there's an end of it." + +But Bertrand laughed. "So? But I am more fit than you think, _mon ami_. +Also it is my affair, this, and none but I can accomplish it. See, I +start in the morning, and by this hour to-morrow I shall be with him." + +"Folly! Madness!" Max said. + +But indomitable resolution still shone in the Frenchman's eyes. "Listen +to me, Max," he said. "If I spend my last breath thus, why not? I have +not the least desire to cling to life. And is that madness? I love _la +petite_ more than all. And is that folly? Why should I not give the +strength that is still in me to accomplish the desire of my heart? Is +mortal life so precious to those who have nothing for which to live?" + +"Rot!" Max said fiercely. "You have plenty to live for. When this +scoundrel Rodolphe is disposed of they will be reinstating you. You've +got to live to have your honour vindicated. Does that mean nothing to +you?" + +Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. "It would interest me exactly as the +procession under the windows interests those who watch. The procession +passes, and the street is empty again. What is that to me?" He snapped +his fingers carelessly. But the animation of his face had transformed it +completely, giving him a look of youth with which Max was wholly +unfamiliar. "See!" he said. "_Le bon Dieu_ has given me this thing to do, +and He will give me the strength to do it. That is His way, _mon ami_. He +does not command us to make bricks without straw." + +Max grunted. "Whatever you do, you will have to pay for," he observed +dryly. "And how are you going to get to Valpre without being arrested?" + +"But I will disguise myself. That should be easy." Bertrand laughed +again, and suddenly stretched out his arms and rose. "I am well," he +declared. "I have been given the strength, and I will use it. Have no +fear, Max. It will not fail me." + +"I shall go too, then," Max said abruptly. "Sit down, man, and be +rational. You don't suppose I shall let you tear all over France in your +present condition by yourself, do you? If you excite yourself in this +fashion, you will be having that infernal pain again. Sit down, I tell +you!" + +Bertrand sat down, but as if he moved on wires. "No," he said with +confidence, "I shall not suffer any more to-night. You say that you will +go with me? But indeed it is not necessary. And you have your work to do. +I would not have you leave it on my account." + +"I am coming," Max said, with finality, "And look here, Bertrand, I shall +be in command of this expedition, and we are not going to travel at +break-neck speed. You will not reach Valpre till the day after to-morrow. +That is understood, is it?" + +Bertrand hesitated and looked dubious. + +"Come, man, it's for your own good. You don't want to die before you get +there." Max's tone was severely practical. + +"Ah no! Not that! I must not fail, Max. I must not fail." Bertrand spoke +with great earnestness. He laid an impressive hand on his companion's +arm. For a moment his face betrayed emotion. "I cannot--I will not--die +before her happiness is assured. It is that for which I now live, for +which I am ready to give my life. Max--_mon ami_--you will not let me die +before--my work--is done!" + +He spoke pantingly, as though speech had become an effort. The strain was +beginning to tell upon him. But his eyes pleaded for him with a dumb +intensity hard to meet. + +Max took his wrist once more into his steady grasp. "If you will do as I +tell you," he said, "I will see that you don't. Is that a bargain?" + +A faint smile shone in the dark eyes at the peremptoriness of his speech. +"But how you are despotic--you English!" protested the soft voice. + +"Do you agree to that?" insisted Max. + +"_Mais oui_. I submit myself--always--to you English. How can one--do +other?" + +"Then don't talk any more," said Max, with authority. "There's no time +for drivel, so save your breath. You will want it when you get to +Valpre." + +"Ah, Valpre!" whispered Bertrand very softly as one utters a beloved +name; and again more softly, "Valpre!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STRANGER + + +A long wave broke with a splash and spread up the sand in a broad band of +silver foam. The tide was at its lowest, and the black rocks of Valpre +stood up stark and grotesque in the evening light. The Gothic archway of +the Magic Cave yawned mysteriously in the face of the cliff, and over it, +with shrill wailings, flew countless seagulls, flashing their wings in +the sunset. + +The man who walked alone along the shore was too deeply engrossed in +thought to take much note of his surroundings, although more than once he +turned his eyes towards the darkness of the cave. A belt of rocks +stretched between, covered with slimy, green seaweed. It was evident that +he had no intention of crossing this to explore the mysteries beyond. +Just out of reach of the sea he moved, his hands behind him and his head +bent. + +All through the day he had been pent in a stuffy courtroom, closely +following the evidence that, like a net of strong weaving, was gradually +closing around the prisoner Guillaume Rodolphe. All France was seething +over the trial. All Europe watched with vivid interest. + +Another man's name had begun to be uttered on all sides, in court and out +of it, coupled continuously with the name of the man who was standing his +trial. Bertrand de Montville, where was he? All France would soon be +waiting to do him justice, to pay him high honour, to compensate him for +the indignities he had wrongfully suffered. He would have to face another +court-martial, it was true; but the outcome of that would be a foregone +conclusion, and his acquittal would raise him to a pinnacle of popularity +to which he had surely never aspired, even in the days when ambition had +been the ruling passion of his life. + +Undoubtedly he would be the hero of the hour, if he could be found. But +where was he? Everyone was asking the question. None knew the answer. +Some said he was in England, awaiting the turn of events, abiding his +opportunity; others that he was already in France, lying hidden in Paris, +or even risking arrest at Valpre itself. The police were uniformly +reticent upon the subject, but it was generally believed that there would +be small difficulty in finding him when the moment arrived. Some went so +far as to assert that he had actually been arrested, and was being kept a +close prisoner by the authorities, who were plainly in fear of serious +rioting. Whatever the truth of the matter, the fact remained that the +tide of public opinion had set very strongly in his favour, and was +likely to wax to a tumultuous enthusiasm exceedingly difficult to cope +with when the object thereof should present himself. + +With all of this Trevor Mordaunt was well acquainted; but he, on his +part, was firmly convinced that Bertrand would keep away until he himself +had left France. To come to Valpre now would be to court a meeting with +him, and this, he was convinced, Bertrand would do his utmost to avoid. +The break between them had been quite final. Moreover, he probably +believed that Chris was at Valpre also, and he had apparently determined +not to see her again. But here an evil thought forced its way. Might they +not, quite possibly, be in communication with one another? It had +presented itself many times before, that thought, and he had sought to +put it from him. But to-night it would not be denied. It conquered and +possessed him. Was it at all likely that the parting between them had +been final? + +Only that afternoon evidence had been given of the episode that had led +to the duel on the Valpre sands more than four years before. He had +listened with a set face to the account of the insult and the subsequent +challenge, and though no name had been mentioned, he had known and faced +the fact that the woman in the case had been his wife. Even then, +Bertrand had regarded her as his peculiar charge, as under his exclusive +protection. And she--had she not told him with burning unrestraint that +she had always loved this man, would love him till she died? + +With the gesture of one who relinquishes his hold upon something he has +discovered to be valueless, Trevor Mordaunt turned in his tracks and +began to walk back over the long stretch of sand. He looked no longer in +the direction of the Magic Cave, but rather quickened his steps as though +he desired to leave it far behind. But there was no escaping that +all-mastering suspicion. It went with him, closely locked with his own +spirit, and he could not shake it off. + +Back to his hotel he walked, with no glance at sea or shining +sunset, and went straight to his own room. There was a private +sitting-room adjoining, which he was wont to share with some of his +fellow-journalists. They used it as a club writing-room when the +proceedings of the court-martial were over for the day. He had his notes +in his pocket; his report was not yet written. He remembered that he must +catch the midnight mail, and decided that he would not stop to dress. +That day's sitting had been longer than usual, and his walk along the +shore had made him late. + +He passed straight through his bedroom, therefore, and into the +sitting-room that overlooked the sea. A small, round-backed man, with a +shag of black hair upon his face, was sitting by the window. There were +three other men in the room, all writing busily. All, save the man by the +window, glanced up at Mordaunt's entrance and nodded to him. They were +all English, with the exception of the stranger, who was obviously +French. + +Mordaunt looked at him questioningly, but no one volunteered an +explanation. He had evidently been sitting there for some time. His gaze +was fixed upon the darkening sea. It was plain that he had no desire to +court attention. + +Quietly Mordaunt crossed the room to him. He was crouched like a monkey, +his chin on his hand, and made no movement at his approach. + +Mordaunt reached him, and bent a little. "_Est-ce que vous attendez +quelqu'un, monsieur_?" + +Dark eyes flashed up at him, and sharply Mordaunt straightened himself. + +"I await Mr. Mordaunt," a soft voice said. + +There was an instant's pause before, "That is my name," Mordaunt said +very quietly. + +"_Eh bien, monsieur_! May I speak with you--in private?" + +The stranger rose shufflingly. He had the look of an old man. + +"Come this way," Mordaunt said. + +He re-crossed the room, his visitor hobbling in his wake. No one spoke, +but all surveyed the latter curiously, and as the door of Mordaunt's +bedroom closed upon him there was an interchange of glances and a raising +of brows. + +But nothing passed behind the closed door that would have enlightened any +of them. For Mordaunt scarcely waited to be alone with the man before he +said, "I must ask you to wait some time longer if you wish to speak to +me. I am not at liberty at present." + +"If I may wait here--" the stranger suggested meekly. + +"Yes. You can do that. Have you dined?" + +"But no, monsieur." + +Mordaunt rang the bell. His face was quite immovable. He stood and waited +in silence for an answer to his summons. + +Holmes came at length. He betrayed no surprise at sight of the stranger +in the room, but stood stiffly at attention, as though prepared to remove +him at his master's bidding. + +"Holmes," Mordaunt said very distinctly, "this--gentleman has private +business with me, and he will wait in this room until I am able to attend +to him. Will you get him some dinner, and see that no one but yourself +comes into the room while he is here?" + +"Very good, sir," said Holmes. + +He looked his charge over with something of the air of a sentry taking +stock of a prisoner, and turned about. + +"See that he has all that he wants," Mordaunt added. + +"Very good, sir," Holmes said again, and withdrew. + +Mordaunt turned at once towards the other door. "I may be a couple of +hours," he said, and passed through gravely into his sitting-room. + +The trio assembled there glanced up again at his entrance with +professional curiosity, but Mordaunt's face was quite inscrutable. +Without speaking, he went to the table, took out his notebook, and began +to write. The evidence had that evening been completed, and the trial +adjourned for two days. It was his intention to write a short _resume_ of +the whole, and this he proceeded to do with characteristic clearness of +outline. His pen moved rapidly, with unwavering decision, and for upwards +of an hour he was immersed in his task, to the exclusion of all other +considerations. + +The three other men in the room completed their own reports, and went out +one by one. The hotel was full of journalists from all parts, and the +dinner-hour was always a crowded time. It was considered advisable by the +English _coterie_ to secure the meal as early as possible, but to-night +Mordaunt neglected this precaution. He did not look up when the others +left, or stir from his place until the article upon which he was engaged +was finished. + +He threw down his pen at last, and leaned back to run his eye over what +he had written. It was a very brief inspection, and he made no +corrections. + +Finally he shook the loose sheets together, added two or three sketches +from his notebook, thrust them into a directed envelope, and went to the +door. + +Holmes came to him at once along the passage. + +"Get this sealed and dispatched without delay," Mordaunt said. "The +gentleman is still waiting, I suppose?" + +"Still waiting, sir," said Holmes. + +"He has dined?" + +"If you can call it dining, sir." + +"Very well. You can go, Holmes." + +But Holmes lingered a moment. "Won't you dine yourself, sir?" + +"Later on. I am engaged just now. All right. Don't wait." + +Holmes shook his head disapprovingly without further words, and turned to +obey. + +Mordaunt closed the door and turned the key, then walked slowly across +the room to the window by which the Frenchman had sat that afternoon, and +opened it wide. The night was very dark, and through it the sea moaned +desolately. The wind was rising with the tide and blew in salt and cold, +infinitely refreshing after the stuffy heat of the day. He leaned his +head for a while against the window-frame. There was intense weariness in +his attitude. + +He uttered a great sigh at last and stood up, paused a moment, as though +to pull himself together, then, with his customary precision of movement, +he turned from the open window and walked across to the door that led +into the next room. His face was somewhat paler than usual, but perfectly +composed. + +Without hesitation he opened the door and spoke. "Now, Bertrand!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MAN TO MAN + + +There was a quick movement in answer to the summons, and in a moment the +visitor presented himself. He had taken the false hair from his face, and +his gait was no longer halting. He looked up at Mordaunt with sharp +anxiety as he came through. + +"No one else has recognized me?" he asked. + +"I believe not." + +He drew a quick breath of relief. "_Bien_! It has been an affair _tres +difficile_. I have feared detection _mille fois_. Yet I did not expect +you to recognize me so soon." + +"You see, I happen to know you rather well," Mordaunt said. + +The Frenchman spread out his hands protestingly. The excitement of the +adventure had flushed his face and kindled his eyes. He looked younger +and more ardent than Mordaunt had ever seen him. The weariness that had +so grown upon him during his exile had fallen from him like a cloak. "But +you do not know me at all!" he said. + +Mordaunt passed over the remark as if he had not heard it. "What have you +come for?" he asked. + +"To see you, monsieur." The reply was as direct as the question. A +momentary challenge shone in Bertrand's eyes as he made it. + +But Mordaunt remained coldly unimpressed. "It was not a very wise move on +your part," he remarked. "You will be arrested if you are discovered. The +authorities are not ready for you yet. They are quite capable of +suppressing you for good and all if it suits their purpose." + +"I know it. But that is of no importance after to-night." Bertrand stood +and faced him squarely. "After to-night," he said, "they may do what they +will. I shall have accomplished that which I came to do." + +"And that?" said Mordaunt. He looked back into the eager eyes with the +aloofness of a stranger. His manner was too impersonal to express either +enmity or contempt. + +The keenness began to die out of Bertrand's face, and a certain dignity +took its place. "That," he made answer, "is to tell you the truth in such +a fashion that, although you think that I am a thief, you will believe +it." + +"I do not think that you are in a position to tell me anything that I do +not know already," Mordaunt answered quietly. "By the way, it may +interest you to hear that the affair of the cheque has been cleared up. I +wronged you there, but I do not think that I was responsible for the +wrong." + +"I was responsible," Bertrand said, his voice very low. "I deceived you. +And for that you will not pardon me, no?" + +But the level grey eyes looked through and beyond him. "That," Mordaunt +said, "is a matter of small importance now. Deceptions of that kind are +never excusable in my opinion; but as I do not expect you to share my +point of view, it seems scarcely worth while to discuss it." + +Bertrand bowed stiffly. "It is not of that that I desire to speak. +Of myself you will think--what you will. I have merited--and I will +endure--your displeasure. But of _la petite_"--he paused--"of +Christine"--he faltered a little, and finally amended--"of _madame votre +femme_, you will think only that which is good. For that is her nature, +that. And for me," his voice throbbed with sudden passion, "I would +rather bear any insult than that you should think otherwise of her. For +she is pure and innocent as a child. Do you not see that I would sooner +die than harm her? And it has always, always been so. You believe me, +no?" + +Mordaunt's face was as stone. "I shouldn't go on if I were you," he said. +"You have nothing whatever to gain. As I have told you, I know already +all that you can tell me upon this subject, and what I think of it is my +affair alone. It is a pity that you took the trouble to come here. If you +take my advice, you will leave me on the earliest opportunity." + +"But you are mistaken. You do not know all." Impulsively Bertrand threw +back the words. "You cannot refuse to listen to me," he said. "I appeal +to your honour, to your sense of justice. If you knew all, as you say, +you would not leave her thus. If you believed her to be blameless--as +she is--you would not abandon her in her hour of trouble. I tell you, +monsieur"--his breath quickened suddenly and he caught his hand to his +side--"if you know the truth, you are committing a crime for which no +penalty is enough severe." + +He broke off, panting, and turned towards the open window. + +Mordaunt said nothing whatever. His face was set like a mask. The only +sign of feeling he gave was in the slow clenching of one hand. + +After a few moments Bertrand wheeled round. "See!" he said. "I have +followed you here to tell you the truth face to face, as I shall tell +it--_bientot_--to the good God. You shall bind me by any oath that you +will, though it should be enough for you that I have nothing at all to +gain, as you have said. I shall hide nothing from you. I shall extenuate +nothing. I shall tell you only the truth, man to man, as my heart knows +it. For her sake, you will listen, yes?" + +His voice slipped into sudden pleading. He stretched out his hands +persuasively to the impassive Englishman, who still seemed to be looking +through him rather than at him. He waited for an answer, but none came. + +"_Eh bien_!" he said, with a quick sigh of disappointment. "Then I shall +speak in spite of you. I begin with our meeting four years ago among the +rocks of Valpre. It was an accident by which we met. I was working to +complete my invention, and for the greater privacy I had taken it to the +old cave of the contrabandists upon the shore--a place haunted by the +spirits of the dead--so that I was safe from interruption. Or so I +thought, till one afternoon she came to me like a goddess from the sea. +She had cut her foot among the stones, and I bound it for her and carried +her back to Valpre. She was only a child then, with eyes clear as the +sunshine. She trusted herself to me as if I had been her brother. That is +easy to comprehend, is it not?" + +Again he paused for an answer, but Mordaunt said no word; his lips were +firmly closed. + +With a characteristic lift of the shoulders Bertrand continued. +"_Apres cela_ we met again and then again. _La petite_ was lonely, +and I, I played with her. I drew for her the pictures in the sand. We +became--pals." He smiled with a touch of wistfulness over the word that +his English friend had taught him. "We shared our secrets. Once--she +was bathing"--his voice softened imperceptibly--"and I took her into my +boat and rowed her back. It was then that I knew first that I loved her. +Yet we remained comrades. I spoke to her no word of love. She was too +young, and I had nothing to offer. I said to myself that I would win her +when I had won my reputation, and in the meantime I would be patient. It +was not very difficult, for she did not understand. And then one day we +went to explore my cavern--she called it the Magic Cave, of which she was +the princess and I her _preux chevalier_. We were as children in those +days," he put in half-apologetically, "and it was her _fete_. _Bien_, we +started. _Le petit_ Cinders went with us, and almost before we had +entered he ran away. We followed him, for Christine was very anxious. I +had never been beyond the second cavern myself, and we had only one +lantern. We came to a place where the passage divided, and here we agreed +that she should wait while I went forward. I took the lantern. We could +hear him yelp in the distance, and she feared that he was hurt. So I left +her alone, and presently, hearing him, as I thought, in front of me, I +ran, and stumbled and fell. The lantern was broken and I was stunned. It +was long before I recovered, and then it was with great difficulty that I +returned. I found her awaiting me still, and Cinders with her. It was +dark and horrible, but she was too brave to run away. I heard her +singing, and so I found her. But by that time the sea had reached the +mouth of the cave, and there was no retreat. We had no choice. We were +prisoners for the night. It might have happened to anyone, monsieur. It +might have happened to you. You blame me--not yet?" + +Again the note of pleading was in his voice, but Mordaunt maintained his +silence. Only his eyes were no longer sphinx-like. They were fixed +intently upon the Frenchman's face. + +Bertrand went on as though he had been answered. "I kept watch all +through the night, while she slept like an infant in my arms. You would +have done the same. In the morning when the tide permitted, we laughed +over the adventure and returned to Valpre. She went to her governess and +I to the fortress. By then everybody in Valpre knew what had happened. +They had believed that we were drowned, and when we reappeared all were +astonished. Later they began to whisper, and that evening the villain +Rodolphe, being intoxicated, proposed in my presence an infamous toast. I +struck him in the mouth and knocked him down. He challenged me to a duel, +and we fought early in the morning down on the sand. But that day the +gods were not on my side. Christine and Cinders were gone to the sea to +bathe, and, as they returned, they found us fighting. _Le bon_ Cinders, +he precipitate himself between us. _La petite_ rush to stop him--too +late. Rodolphe is startled; he plunge, and my sword pierce his arm. +_C'etait la un moment tres difficile. La petite_ try to explain, to +apologize, and me--I lead her away. _Apres cela_ she go back to England, +and I see her not again. But Rodolphe, he forgive me--never. That, +monsieur--and only that--is the true story of that which happened at +Valpre. The little Christine left--as she arrived--a pure and innocent +child." + +He stopped. Mordaunt's eyes were still studying him closely. He met them +with absolute freedom. + +"I will finish," he said, "and you shall then judge for yourself. As +you know, I had scarcely attained my ambition when I was ruined. It was +then that you first saw me. You believed me innocent, and later, when +Destiny threw me in your path, you befriended me. I have no need to tell +you what your friendship was to me. No words can express it or my +desolation now that I have lost it. I fear that I was never worthy of +your--so great--confidence." His voice shook a little, and he paused to +steady it. "It was my intention--always--to be worthy. The fault lay in +that I did not realize my weakness. I ought to have left you when I knew +that _la petite_ was become your fiancee." + +For the first time Mordaunt broke his silence. "Why not have told me the +truth?" + +Bertrand raised his shoulders. "I did not feel myself at liberty to tell +you. Afterwards, I found that her eyes had been opened, and she was +afraid for you to know. It did not seem an affair of great importance, +and I let it pass. We were pals again. She gave me her confidence, and I +would sooner have died," he spoke passionately, "than have betrayed it. I +thought that I could hide my heart from her, and that only myself would +suffer. And this I can say with truth: by no word, no look, no action, of +mine were her eyes opened. I was always _le bon frere_ to her, neither +less nor more, until the awakening came. I was always faithful to you, +monsieur. I never forgot that she belonged to you--that she was--the wife +of--my friend." + +Something seemed to rise in his throat, and he stopped sharply. A moment +later very slowly he sat down. + +"You permit me?" he said. "I am--a little--tired. As you know, I began to +see at last that I could not remain with you. I resolved to go. But the +death of Cinders prevented me. She was in trouble, and she desired me to +stay. I should have grieved her if I had refused. I was wrong, I admit +it. I should have gone then. I should have left her to you. I do not +defend myself. I only beg you to believe that I did not see the danger, +that if I had seen it I would not have remained for a single moment more. +Then came the day at Sandacre, the encounter with Rodolphe. I knew that +evening that something had passed between them; what it was she would not +tell me. I tried to persuade her then to let me tell you the whole truth. +But she was terrified--_la pauvre petite_. She thought that you would be +angry with her. She feared that you would ask questions that she could +not answer. She had kept the secret so long that she dared not reveal +it." + +"In short," Mordaunt said, "she was afraid that I should suspect her of +caring for you." + +His words were too quiet to sound brutal, but they were wholly without +mercy. Bertrand's hands gripped the arms of his chair, and he winced +visibly. + +Yet he answered with absolute candour. "Yes, monsieur. I believe she was. +I believe that it was the beginning of all this trouble. But had I known +that Rodolphe would use his knowledge to extort money from her, I would +not have yielded--no, not one inch--to her importunity. I did not know +it. Christine was afraid of me also. I had fought one duel for her; +perhaps she dreaded another. And so the mischief was done." + +"And who told you that she had been blackmailed?" Mordaunt demanded +curtly. + +Bertrand made answer without hesitation. "I heard that two days ago from +Max." + +"Max?" + +"Her brother, Max Wyndham." + +"And who told him?" + +Bertrand's black brows went up. "I believe it was his cousin Captain +Forest." + +"Ah! So he sent you, did he? I might have known he would." For the first +time Mordaunt spoke with bitterness. + +"Monsieur, no one sent me." There was dignity in Bertrand's rejoinder, a +dignity that compelled belief. "I came as soon as I knew what had +happened. I came to redress a great wrong. I came to restore to you that +which is your own property--of which, in truth, you have never been +deprived. With your permission, I will finish. On the night of the +fireworks, the night you were in London, I--betrayed myself. I cannot +tell you how it happened. I know only that my love became suddenly a +flame that I could not hide. She had been in danger, and me--I lost my +self-control. The veil was withdrawn, I could hide my love no more. I +showed her my heart just as it was, and--she showed me hers." + +Bertrand rose with none of his customary impetuosity and stood in front +of Mordaunt, meeting the steady eyes with equal steadiness. + +"I tell you the truth," he said. "We understand each other, and we love +each other. But you--you are even now more to her than I have ever been. +She has need of you as she has never had of me. You are the reality in +her life. I"--he spread out his hands--"I am the romance." + +He paused as if to gather his strength, then went rapidly on. But his +face was grey. He looked like a man who had travelled fast and far. +"Monsieur," he said very earnestly, "believe me, I do not stand between +you. I love her--I love you both--too much for that. My one desire, my +one prayer, is for her happiness--and yours. Do not, I beseech you, make +me an obstacle. You are her protector. Do not leave her unprotected!" + +Again for an instant he paused, seeming to strive after self-control. +Then suddenly he relinquished the attempt. He flung his dignity from +him; he threw himself on his knees at the impassive Englishman's feet. +"Mr. Mordaunt," he cried out brokenly, "I have told you the truth. As +a dying man, I swear to you--by God--that I have hidden nothing. +Monsieur--monsieur--go back to her--make her happy--before I die!" + +His voice dropped. He sank forward, murmuring incoherently. + +Mordaunt stooped sharply over him. "Bertrand, for Heaven's sake--" he +began, and broke off short; for the face that still tried to look into +his was so convulsed with agony that he knew him to be for the moment +beyond the reach of words. + +He lifted the huddled Frenchman to a chair with great gentleness; but the +paroxysm did not pass. It was terrible to witness. It seemed to rack him +from head to foot, and through it he still strove to plead, though his +speech was no more than broken sound, inexpressibly painful to hear, +impossible to understand. + +Mordaunt bent over him at last, all his hardness merged into pity. "My +dear fellow, don't!" he said. "Give yourself time. Haven't you anything +with you that will relieve this pain?" + +Bertrand could not answer him. He made a feeble gesture with his right +hand; his left was clenched and rigid. + +Mordaunt began to feel in his pockets; his touch was as gentle as a +woman's. But his search was unavailing. He only found an empty bottle. +Bertrand had evidently taken the remedy it had contained earlier in the +evening. + +He turned to get some brandy, but Bertrand clutched at his sleeve and +detained him. "Max is here," he gasped. "Find Max! He--knows!" + +His hand fell away, and Mordaunt went to the door. Holmes had returned to +his post in the passage. He came forward as the door opened. + +"Mr. Max Wyndham is somewhere here," Mordaunt said. "Go and find him, and +bring him back with you--at once." + +Holmes nodded comprehension and went. + +Mordaunt turned back into the room. Bertrand had slipped to the floor +again, and was lying face downwards. His breathing was anguished, but he +made no other sound. + +Mordaunt poured out some brandy and went to him. He knelt down by his +side and tried to administer it. But Bertrand could not drink. He could +only gasp. Yet after a moment his hand came out gropingly and touched +the man beside him. + +Mordaunt took it and held it. + +"You--believe me?" Bertrand jerked out. + +"I believe you," Mordaunt answered very gravely. + +"You--you forgive?" + +Painfully the question came. It went into silence. But the hand that had +taken Bertrand's closed slowly and very firmly. + +"_Et la petite--la petite--_" faltered Bertrand. + +The silence endured for seconds. It seemed as if no answer would come. +And through it the man's anguished breathing came and went with a +dreadful pumping sound as of some broken machinery. + +At last, slowly, as though he weighed each word before he uttered it, +Mordaunt spoke. + +"You may trust her to me," he said. + +And the hand in his stirred and gripped in gratitude, Bertrand de +Montville had not spent himself in vain. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MESSENGER + + +"Roses!" said Chris. "How nice!" + +She held the white blossoms that Jack had sent her against her face, and +smiled. + +It was a very pathetic smile, a wan ghost of gaiety, possessing more of +bravery than mirth. She lay on a couch by the window, looking out under +the sun-blinds at the dusty green of the park. Though October had begun, +the summer was not yet over, and the heat was considerable. It seemed +oppressive after the fresh air of the moors, and Hilda watched her +cousin's languor with some anxiety. For her face had scarcely more colour +than the flowers she held. + +"Is the paper here?" asked Chris. + +She also was closely following the progress of the Valpre trial. Though +she never discussed it, Hilda was aware that it was the only thing in +life in which she took any interest just then. + +She gave her the paper containing the last account that Mordaunt had +written, and for nearly an hour Chris was absorbed in it. At last, with a +sigh, she laid it down, and drew the roses to her again. + +"It's very dear of Jack to send them. Hilda, don't you want to go out? +You mustn't stay in always for me." + +"I want you to come out too, dear," Hilda said. + +"I? Oh, please, dear, I'd rather not." Chris spoke quickly, almost +beseechingly. She laid a very thin hand upon Hilda's. "You don't mind?" +she said persuasively. + +Hilda took the little hand and stroked it. "Chris darling," she said, "do +you know what is the matter with you?" + +The quick blood rushed up over the pale face, spread to the temples, and +then faded utterly away. "Yes," whispered Chris. + +Hilda leaned down, and very tenderly kissed her. "I felt sure you did. +And that's why you will make an effort to get strong, isn't it, dear? It +isn't as if it were just for your own sake any more. You will try, my own +Chris?" + +But Chris turned her face away with quivering lips. "I think--and I +hope--that I shall die," she said. + +"Chris, my darling--" + +"Yes," Chris insisted. "If it shocks you I can't help it. I don't want to +live, and I don't want my child to live, either. Life is too hard. If--if +I had had any choice in the matter, I would never have been born. And so +if I die before the baby comes, it is the best thing that could possibly +happen for either of us. And I think--I think"--she hesitated momentarily +before a name she had not uttered for weeks--"Trevor would say the same." + +"My dear child, I am quite sure he wouldn't!" Hilda spoke with most +unaccustomed vigour. "I am quite sure that if he knew of this, he would +be with you to-day." + +"Oh no, indeed!" Chris said. She spoke quite quietly, with absolute +conviction. "You don't know him, Hilda. You only judge him from outside. +If he knew--well, yes, he might possibly think it his duty to be near me. +But not because he cared. You see--he doesn't. His love is quite dead. +And"--she began to shiver--"I don't like dead things; they frighten me. +So you won't let anyone tell him; promise me!" + +"But, my dear, he would love the child--his child," urged Hilda softly. + +"Oh, that would be worse!" Chris turned sharply from her. "If he loved +the child--and--and--hated the mother!" + +"Chris! Chris! You are torturing yourself with morbid ideas! Such a thing +would be impossible." + +"Not with him," said Chris, shuddering. "He is not like Percy, you know. +You think him gentle and kind, but he is quite different, really. He is +as hard--and as cold--as iron. Ah, here is Noel!" She broke off with +obvious relief. "Come in, dear old boy. I've been wondering where you +were." + +Noel came in. He usually haunted Chris's room during the day. The +Davenants had done their utmost to persuade him to go to school, but Noel +had taken the conduct of his affairs into his own hands, and firmly +refused. + +"I shan't go while Chris is ill," he declared flatly. "We'll see what +she's like at the mid-term." + +Jack's authority was invoked in vain, for Jack was on the youngster's +side. + +"I've squared him," said Noel, with satisfaction. "Of course, I'm sorry +to be a burden to you, Hilda, but I'll pay up when I come of age." + +Which promise invariably silenced Hilda's protests, and made Lord Percy +chuckle. + +Aunt Philippa was still absent upon her autumn round of visits, a +circumstance for which Noel was openly and devoutly thankful. Not that +her influence was by any means paramount with him, but her presence might +of itself have been sufficient to drive him away. The only person who +could really manage him was his brother-in-law, but as he had apparently +forgotten Noel's very existence, it seemed unlikely that his authority +would be brought to bear upon him. Meanwhile, Noel swaggered in and out +of his sister's presence, penniless but content, and Chris plainly liked +to have him. + +On the present occasion he interrupted their conversation without +apology, pushed Chris's feet to one side, and seated himself on the end +of the sofa. + +"Do you mind if I smoke?" he said to Hilda. + +"Yes, I do," said Hilda. + +"All right, then. You'd better go." He pulled a clay pipe out of his +pocket, and an envelope that contained tobacco. "I know Chris doesn't +mind," he said, with a twinkling glance in her direction. "Also, my +cousin, someone wants you in the next room." + +"Who is it?" said Hilda. + +"Don't ask me," said Noel. + +She hesitated momentarily. "Well, I suppose I must go. But mind, Noel, +you are not to smoke in here." + +"Say please!" said Noel imperturbably. + +"Please!" said Hilda obediently. + +He rose and accompanied her to the door. "Madam, your wishes shall be +respected." + +He opened the door with a flourish, bowed her out, closed it, and softly +turned the key. + +Then he wheeled round to his sister with gleaming eyes. "That's done the +trick, I bet. Trevor has just turned up with Jack. But you needn't be +afraid. I shan't let him in." + +"What!" said Chris. + +She started up, uttering the word like a cry. + +Noel left the door swiftly, and came to her. "It's all right, old girl. +Don't you worry yourself. We'll hold the fort, never fear. He shan't come +in here, unless you say the word." + +Chris's hands clutched him with feverish strength. Her face was deathly. +"Oh, Noel!" she breathed. "Oh, Noel!" + +He hugged her reassuringly. "It's all right, I tell you. Don't get in a +blue funk for nothing. He's not coming in here to bully you." + +But Chris only clung faster to him, not breathing. The sudden shock had +sent all the blood to her heart. She felt choked and powerless. + +"There! Lie down again," said Noel. "I'm here. I'll take care of you. I +knew he would turn up again; it's what I've been waiting for. But I swear +he shan't come near you against your will. That's enough, isn't it? You +know you are safe with me." + +She could not answer him, but she crouched back upon the sofa in response +to his persuasion. She was shaking from head to foot. + +Noel sat solidly down beside her. "Don't be frightened," he said. "We're +going to have some fun." + +"What--what can he have come for?" whispered Chris. + +"Goodness knows! But he isn't going to get it, anyway. Good old Hilda! +She went like a bird, didn't she? I call this rather amusing." + +Noel began to whistle under his breath, obviously enjoying the situation +to the utmost. + +But Chris restrained him. "I want to listen," she murmured piteously. + +He became silent at once, and several seconds crawled away, accompanied +by no sound save the interminable buzzing of a fly on the window-pane. + +Noel arose at length and with a single swoop of the hand captured and +killed it. Then he went back to Chris. + +"I say, don't look so scared! No one is going to hurt you." + +The words were hardly uttered before Hilda's light step sounded outside, +and her hand tried the door. + +Chris started violently, and cowered among her cushions. Noel chuckled +softly. + +"Chris dear, what is the matter? Let me in!" Anxiety and persuasion were +mingled in Hilda's voice. + +Noel's chuckle became audible. "She isn't going to. She doesn't want +anyone but me. Do you, Chris?" + +Chris made no reply. She was staring at the door with starting eyes. + +Noel went leisurely across and set his back against it. His eyes still +gleamed roguishly, but his mouth had ceased to smile. + +"I say, Hilda," he said, over his shoulder, "if you want to do Chris a +good turn, tell that beastly cad behind you to go. I shan't let him in, +anyhow, not if he stays till doomsday. So he may as well clear out at +once." + +"My dear Noel, how can you be so absurd?" Hilda's placid tones held real +annoyance for once. + +But the cause of it was quite unimpressed. + +"Your dear Noel is acting up to his lights," he returned, "and he has no +intention of doing anything else, absurd or otherwise. Chris is nearly +scared out of her wits, so you had better take my advice sharp." + +This last information took instant effect upon Hilda. She turned her +attention to Chris forthwith. + +"My dear, do let me in! There is nothing whatever to frighten you. I +promise you shall not be frightened. Chris, tell that absurd boy to open +the door--please, dearest!" + +"I--can't!" gasped Chris. + +"She isn't going to," said Noel. "You run along, Hilda. And you can tell +Trevor with my love that if he'll clear out now I'll meet him at any time +and place he likes to mention and have a damned old row." + +"Very good of you!" Another voice spoke on the other side of the door, +and Noel jumped in spite of himself. "But at the present moment you don't +count. Is Chris there? I want to speak to her." + +The leisurely tones came, measured and distinct, through the closed door, +and Chris covered her face and shivered. "Oh, you'll have to let him in!" +she said. "Only--don't go away! Don't leave me alone with him!" + +"Chris!" Mordaunt's voice, calm and unhurried, addressed her directly. +"Jack is here with me. Will you let us in?" + +Chris lifted a haggard face. "Open the door, Noel!" she said. + +"Why?" demanded Noel, with sudden ferocity. "We are not going to knock +under to him. Why should we?" + +"It's no use," she said. "We can't help it. Besides--besides--" She broke +off with something like a sob, and rose from the sofa. + +Noel looked at her under drawn brows. "You really mean it?" + +"Yes." She pushed the hair from her forehead, and made a great effort to +still her agitation. "I do mean it, Noel. I--wish it." + +"All right." The boy whizzed round and turned the key. + +He met Mordaunt face to face on the threshold with clenched hands, his +face dark with passion. "If you hurt her--I'll kill you!" he said. + +Had Mordaunt laughed at him, he would probably have attempted to carry +out his threat then and there, for his mood was tempestuous. But the +quiet eyes that met his blazing ones held no derision. They went beyond +him instantly, seeking the girlish figure that leaned against the +sofa-head for support; but a hand grasped his shoulder at the same moment +and turned him back into the room. + +"I shan't quarrel with you on that account," Mordaunt said. "You can stay +if you like, and satisfy yourself." + +Jack entered behind him, and went straight to Chris. He took her +quivering hands into his, and held them fast. + +"That boy deserves to be horsewhipped for startling you like this," he +said. + +She smiled at him wanly, but not as if she heard his words. "You will +stay with me, Jack?" she said beseechingly. + +"If you wish it, dear. But Trevor wants to say something rather private. +Really, you have nothing to be afraid of." + +His kindly eyes looked down reassuringly into hers. They seemed to reason +with her, to persuade and soothe at the same time. + +But Chris's hands clung to his. "Don't--don't go!" she said. "I want +you--I want you, Jack." + +"Suppose we sit down," said Jack practically. "Trevor, I wish you'd kick +that boy downstairs. It would do him good and me too. This isn't a family +conclave." + +"Noel can stay," Mordaunt answered quietly. He was still looking towards +his wife, but he did not seem to be regarding her very intently. "You are +mistaken in thinking that I have anything to say to Chris in private. I +have only come to tell her what I have already told you, that Bertrand is +at Valpre, ill and wanting her. I will take her to him--if she will +come." + +"Trevor!" She turned to him with eyes of sudden horror--horror so +definite that it swamped all her personal shrinking. "How is he ill? +You--you have hurt him!" + +"I have done nothing to him," Mordaunt answered. "He is suffering from +heart-disease, and cannot be moved. I must start from Charing Cross in an +hour. Will you come with me?" + +"To go to him?" Her eyes were still dilated, but they did not waver from +his. + +"To go to him." He repeated the words with precision, and waited for her +answer. + +But Chris sat in silence, her hands in Jack's. + +"Look here," Noel broke in abruptly, "if Chris goes, I go." + +"Very well," Mordaunt said. "If Chris desires it, you may." + +Chris came out of her silence with a little shudder, and turned to the +man beside her. "Jack, tell me what to do!" + +"I think you had better go, dear," Jack said. + +"But if--but if--oh, is he very ill?" She looked again at her husband. + +"He is very ill indeed," Mordaunt said. + +"You think I ought to go?" She asked the question with an obvious effort. + +"I have come to fetch you," he said. + +"Then--he is dying!" she said, with sudden conviction. + +Mordaunt was silent. + +Abruptly she left Jack and went up to him. "Trevor," she said, "would you +want to take me to him if--if--" + +"If--?" he repeated quietly. + +"If you thought I was doing wrong to go?" + +He made a slight movement, as if the question were unexpected. "I should +have explained to you," he said, "that your brother Max is in charge of +him, so that when I am not with you--and, as you know, I am attending the +Rodolphe trial--you will not be alone." + +"Oh, Max is there!" she said, with relief. "But what is he doing at +Valpre?" + +"He went there with Bertrand." + +"But I thought Bertrand could not go to France," she hazarded. + +"He went in disguise." + +"Why?" Her lips trembled upon the word. + +"Because he had something to say to me." With the utmost calmness his +answer came. + +"Ah!" She started and turned so white that he put out a hand to steady +her. + +She laid her own within it, as it were instinctively, because she needed +support. + +"What was it?" she whispered. + +He looked at her gravely. "Are you afraid to be alone with me?" he said. + +"No." + +"Then--quick march!" said Jack, with his hand through Noel's arm. + +They went out together, Noel glancing back for the smallest sign from his +sister to remain. + +But she made none. She stood quite still, with her hand in her husband's, +waiting. + +As the door closed Mordaunt spoke. "Have you been ill?" + +"No," she said faintly. "Not--not really ill." + +She was aware of his close scrutiny for a moment, but she made not the +slightest attempt to meet it. + +"You want to know what Bertrand said to me," he said. "And you have a +right to know. He told me the whole history of your friendship from the +beginning to the end." + +"He told you about--about Valpre?" Her eyelids quivered, as if she wished +to raise them but dared not. + +"Yes." + +"Then you know--" Her hand fluttered in his. + +"I know everything," he said. + +Her white face quivered piteously. "And you--you are still angry?" + +"No, I am not angry." He led her back to the sofa. "Sit down a minute," +he said. "I don't think you are quite fit for this, and if you are going +back with me to Valpre, you will need to reserve your strength." + +He sat down beside her, both her hands firmly clasped in his, as if +thereby he would impart to her the strength she lacked. + +"You mean me to go, then?" murmured Chris. + +"Don't you want to go?" he asked. + +"If he really wants me--" she faltered. "And if you--you wish it, too." + +"My dear," he said, "do my wishes make any real difference?" + +She caught her breath sharply, and bent her head that he might not see +her face. "Yes," she whispered, under her breath. + +"Very well," he said, "I wish it, too." + +She was silent, but suddenly her tears began to fall upon the strong +hands that held hers. She would have given anything to have repressed +them at that moment. With her whole soul she shrank from showing him her +weakness, but it overpowered her. She bowed her head lower still, and +wept. + +He sat quite motionless for seconds, so that even in the depth of her +distress she marvelled at his patience. But at last, very gently, he +moved, let her hands go, and rose. + +He stood awhile turned from her, his face to the window, though the +sun-blind was all that could have met his view; finally, with grave +kindness, he spoke. + +"I think I had better leave you to prepare for the journey. There is not +much time at your disposal, and you will probably need it all. It is +settled that Noel is to go with us?" + +"You won't mind?" she whispered. + +"I think it a very good plan," he answered. + +He turned round and came back to her. She had commanded herself to a +certain extent, but still she could not raise her face. She waited +tensely as he approached, possessed by a sudden, almost delirious longing +to feel the touch of his lips. + +Her desire surged into leaping hope as he stopped beside her. Would +he--could he? But he did not stoop. He only laid his hand for a moment +upon her head. + +"Chris," he said, "try to think of me as a friend--and don't be afraid." + +She thrilled at the low-spoken words. In another moment she would have +conquered all hesitation and sprung up to feel his arms about her, to +hide her face against him, to open to him all her quivering heart. But +for that moment he did not wait. + +With the utterance of the words his hand fell, and he moved away. + +The opening and the closing of the door told her he had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ARREST + + +"Ah, but what a night for dreams!" + +The cool salt air came in from the sea like a benediction, blowing softly +about the sick man by the window, sending a gleam of life into eyes grown +weary with long suffering. He leaned back upon his pillows for the first +time in many hours. + +"It is as if the door of heaven had opened," he said. + +"You're not going yet, old chap!" Max answered, a curious blending of +grimness and tenderness in his voice. + +"But no--not yet--not yet." Softly Bertrand made answer, but resolution +throbbed in his words also. "I must not fail her--my little pal--my bird +of Paradise. But the night is very long, Max, _mon ami_. And the +darkness--the darkness--" + +Max's hand came quietly down and closed upon his wrist. "I'll see you +through," he said. + +"Yes--yes. You will help me. You are one of those created to help. That +is why you will be great. The great men are always--those who help." + +The words came slowly, sometimes with difficulty, but the young medical +student made no attempt to check them. He only sat with shrewd eyes upon +the sick man's face and alert finger on his wrist, marking the waning +strength while he listened. For he knew that the night was long. + +Years afterwards it came to be said of him that his patients never died +until his back was turned. It was not strictly true, but it conveyed +something of the magnetism with which he wrought upon them. He knew the +crucial moment by instinct, when to grapple and when to slacken his hold, +and he never went by rule. + +And so on that his second night of vigil by the side of a dying man, +though he recognized speech as a danger, he made no effort to silence +him. He knew that weariness of the spirit that finds no vent was a +greater danger still. + +"So you think I have a future before me?" he said. + +"I am sure of it." Bertrand spoke with conviction. "It will not be an +easy future, _mon ami_. Perhaps it will not be happy. Those who climb +have no time to gather the flowers by the way. But--it will be great. You +desire that, yes?" + +"In a fashion," Max said. "I don't know that I consider greatness in +itself as specially valuable. Do you?" + +"I?" said Bertrand. "But I have passed all that. There was a time when +ambition was to me as the breath of life. I thought of nothing else. And +then"--his voice dropped a little--"there came a greater thing--the +greatest of all. And I knew that I had climbed above ambition. I knew +success and fame as a procession that passes--that passes--the mirage in +the desert--the dream in the midst of our great Reality. I knew all this +before my ruin came. It was as if a light had suddenly been held up, and +I saw the work of my life as pictures in the sand. Then the great tide +rushed up, and all was washed away. But yet"--his voice vibrated, he +looked at Max and smiled--"the light remained. For a time, indeed, I was +blind, but the light came back to me. And I know now that it was always +there." + +He paused, and turned his head sharply. + +"What is it?" said Max. + +"I heard a sound." + +"There are plenty of sounds in this place," Max pointed out. + +"Ah! but this was different. It sounded like--" He stopped with a gasp +that made Max frown. + +Undoubtedly there was a sound outside, the tread of feet, the jingle of a +sword. Max got up, still frowning, and went to the door. + +He had barely reached it before there came a loud knock upon the panels, +and a voice cried: "_Ouvrez_!" + +Max's knowledge of French was exceedingly limited, but that fact by no +means dismayed him. He turned round to Bertrand for a moment. + +"I'm going to have a talk with this johnny. Don't agitate yourself. You +are not to move till I come back." + +"_Ouvrez_!" cried the voice again. + +"All right?" questioned Max. + +Bertrand was leaning forward. His eyes were very bright, his breathing +very short. "They have come--to take me," he said. + +"I'll see them damned first," said Max. "You keep still, and leave it to +me." + +His hand was on the door with the words. A moment more he stood, +thick-set and British, looking back. Then with a curt nod, he opened the +door, and passed instantly out, pulling it after him. + +Half a dozen soldiers filled the passage. The one who had knocked--an +officer--stood face to face with him. + +"Now what do you want?" asked Max. + +He stood, holding the door-handle, his red brows drawn, a glint of battle +in the green eyes beneath them. And so, during a brief silence, they +measured each other. + +Then quite courteously the Frenchman spoke. "Monsieur, my duty brings me +here. Will you have the goodness to open that door?" + +"It's a good thing you can speak English," Max remarked, with his +one-sided smile. "What do you want to go in there for? The room is mine." + +"And you are entertaining a friend there, monsieur." The Frenchman still +spoke suavely; he even smiled an answering smile. + +"That is so," Max said. "Do you know his name?" + +"It is Bertrand de Montville." There was no hesitation in the reply. He +looked as if he expected the Englishman to move aside, as he made it. But +Max stood his ground. + +"And what is your business with him?" he asked. + +The officer's brows went up. "Monsieur?" + +"You have come to arrest him?" Max questioned. + +The Frenchman hesitated for a moment, then: "I must do my duty," he said. + +The green eyes contemplated him thoughtfully for a space. Then, "I +suppose you know he is dying?" Max said slowly. + +"Dying, monsieur!" The tone was sharp, the speaker plainly incredulous. + +Max explained without emotion. "He is suffering from an incurable disease +of the heart, caused by hardship and starvation. If you go in and agitate +him now, I won't give that for his chances of lasting through the night." + +He snapped his fingers without taking his eyes from the other's face. + +"Is it true?" the Frenchman said. + +"It is absolutely true." Max spoke quietly, but there was force behind +his words. "You can do what you like to safeguard him, though he is quite +incapable of getting away. You can surround the house and post sentries +at the door. But unless you want to kill him outright, you won't take him +away from here. You can send one of your own doctors to certify what I +say. You don't want to kill him, I presume?" + +The Frenchman was listening attentively. It was evident that Max Wyndham +was making an impression. + +"My orders are to arrest him and to take him to the fortress," he said. + +"Dead or alive?" asked Max. + +"But certainly not dead, monsieur. All France will be calling for him +to-morrow." + +"That's the funny part of it," said Max. "France should have thought of +that before. Well, sir, if you want him to live, all you can do is to +wait. I will keep him going through the night, and you can send a doctor +round in the morning." + +"You are a doctor?" asked the Frenchman keenly. + +"No. I am a medical student." + +"And you are friends, _hein_?" + +"Yes, we are friends. It was I who brought him here." + +"But what a pity, monsieur!" There was a touch of kindly feeling in the +words. + +"Yes," Max acknowledged grimly. "It was a pity. But his reason for coming +was urgent. And, after all, it made little difference. It has only +hastened by a few weeks the end that was bound to come." + +"You think that he will die?" + +"Yes." Max spoke briefly. His tone was one of indifference. + +The Frenchman looked at him curiously. "And what was his reason for +coming?" + +"It was a strictly private one," Max said. "This trial had nothing to do +with it. It will certainly never be made public, so I am not at liberty +to speak of it." + +"And has he done--that which he left England to do?" + +"Not yet, sir, but he may do it--if he lives long enough." Again Max's +tone was devoid of all feeling. He still stood planted squarely against +the closed door. + +"And you think he will not do that?" + +"On the contrary," said Max, "I think he will--if I am with him to keep +him going." + +He spoke with true British doggedness, and a gleam of humour crossed the +Frenchman's face. He made a brief bow. + +"M. de Montville is fortunate to possess such a friend," he said. + +The corner of Max's mouth went down. "As to that," he said dryly, "he +might do a good deal better, and a very little worse. Now, sir, what are +you going to do?" + +The Frenchman looked quizzical. "It seems that I must take your advice, +monsieur, or risk very serious consequences. I shall leave a guard here +during the night, and I must ask you to give me the key of this door. +_Apres cela_"--he shrugged his shoulders--"_nous verrons_." + +Max turned without protest, opened the door, and withdrew the key. He +stood a moment listening before he turned back and laid it in the +officer's hand. His face was grave. + +"I think I must go to him," he said. "You will see to it that he is not +disturbed?" + +"No one will enter without your permission," the Frenchman answered. "And +you, monsieur, will remain with him until I return." + +"I see," said Max. Again, for an instant, the fighting gleam was in his +eyes, then carelessly he laughed. "Well, I shan't try to run away. He and +I are down in the same lot. You would find it harder to turn me out than +to keep me here." + +"I believe it, monsieur." There was no irony in the words or in the bow +that accompanied them. "And I repeat, he is a happy man who possesses +your friendship." + +"Oh, rats!" said Max, and suddenly turned scarlet. "You are talking +through your hat, sir. If you've quite done, I'll go." + +It was the most boyish utterance he had permitted himself, and as he gave +vent to it he was so obviously ill at ease that the Frenchman smiled. + +"But you are younger than I thought," he said. "Will you shake hands?" + +Max gave his customary hard grip. They looked into each other's eyes for +a moment, and separated with mutual respect. + +Five seconds later Max had returned to his self-appointed task of helping +a dying man to live through the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +VALPRE AGAIN + + +"How dark it is!" said Chris. "And how we are crawling!" + +She turned her white face from the carriage-window with the words. They +were the first she had uttered since leaving Paris. + +Neither of her two companions responded at once. Noel was curled up in +the farther corner asleep, and her husband sitting opposite was writing +rapidly in a notebook. He stopped to finish his sentence before he looked +up. She was conscious of a little sense of chill because he did so. + +"Why don't you try to get a sleep?" he said then. "We shall not reach +Valpre for another two hours." + +"I can't sleep," she said. + +Her eyes avoided his instinctively. They were more nearly alone together +at this moment than they had been since their brief interview that +morning at the Davenants' flat. It seemed weeks ago to Chris already. + +"Have you tried?" he asked. + +"No." + +He did not make the obvious rejoinder, but glanced again at his writing, +added something, and put it away. Then, with his usual deliberation of +movement, he left his seat and came over to her side. + +She had a moment of desperate shyness as he sat down. "Don't let me +interrupt you," she said nervously. + +He ignored the words, as if he considered them foolish "I should like you +to get a little sleep," he said. "You have had a long day. Look at that +fellow over there, setting the good example." + +"He hasn't so much to think about," said Chris, with a smile that +quivered in spite of her. + +"Are you thinking very hard?" he asked. + +"Yes." She brought out the word with an effort, for suddenly she wanted +to cry again, and she was determined to keep back her tears this time. + +He made no comment, but sat and looked at the blank darkness of the +window. + +After a time she mastered herself, and stole a glance at his grave face. + +"You--I suppose you will be busy at the court again to-morrow?" she said. + +"Yes." He turned to her in his quiet way. "It will be the last day in all +probability." + +"You think the verdict will be made known?" + +"Yes." + +She shivered a little. "And the sentence?" + +"The sentence will probably not be disclosed till later." + +She shivered again, and he reached forward and drew the window a little +higher. + +"I'm not cold," she said quickly. "Trevor, aren't you--just +a little--sorry for him?" + +"For whom?" + +"For the prisoner--for--for Captain Rodolphe." She stammered the name +with downcast eyes. + +"No." Very calmly and very decidedly came his answer. "I have no pity for +a man of that sort. I think he should be shot." + +"Oh, do you?" she said with a gasp. + +"Yes, I do. A treacherous scoundrel like that is worse than a murderer in +my opinion. So is anyone who is fundamentally untrustworthy." + +"Oh, but--but--Trevor--," she said, and suddenly there was a note of +pleading in her halting words, "that includes the weak people with the +wicked. Don't you think--that is rather hard?" + +"Quite possibly." He made the admission in a tone she did not understand, +and relapsed into silence. + +She felt as if the subject were closed, and did not venture to pursue it. + +But after a moment he surprised her by a quiet question: "Why don't you +try to convince me that I am wrong?" + +She looked up at him quickly, as if compelled. His eyes were waiting for +hers, met them, held them. + +"I am not suggesting that you should defend Rodolphe," he said. "You were +not thinking of him. He is not one of the weak." + +"I was thinking of myself," she said. "And--and--and--" She wavered and +stopped. + +"Rupert?" he suggested. + +She caught her breath. "What made you think of him?" + +"You were thinking of him, were you not?" + +She made a gesture of helplessness. "Yes." + +"I see," he said. "But you needn't be anxious about Rupert. He came to me +long ago and told me the truth." + +She opened her eyes wide. "What made him do that?" + +"He heard that Bertrand was bearing the blame for his misdeeds, and he +had the decency to be ashamed of himself." + +"Oh!" said Chris. She was silent for a moment, still meeting his steady +gaze. Suddenly her mouth quivered and she turned from them. "Trevor, I--I +am ashamed too." + +"Hush!" he said. + +The word was brief, it sounded stern; but in the same instant his hand +found hers and held it very tightly. + +She mastered herself with a great effort in response to his insistence. +"Were you very angry with him?" she whispered. + +"No." + +"You didn't--punish him in any way?" + +"No. I told him to forget it and said I should do the same. As a matter +of fact, I had forgotten it until this moment." Mordaunt's tone was +unemotional; he released her hand as he was speaking, and again she was +conscious of that small sense of chill. + +"You forgave him, then?" she said. + +"Yes, I did." He paused a moment; then: "By and bye," he said, "Rupert +will take on the management of the Kellerton estate, and I think he will +probably be a great help to me." + +Chris's eyes shot upwards in amazement. "Trevor! Not really?" + +He smiled a little. "Yes, really. It is the sort of life that suits him +best; and he will be pretty busy, so it ought to keep him out of +mischief." + +"Oh, but, Trevor--" she said, and stopped short. + +"Well?" he said gently. + +"I didn't think you would do that," she murmured in confusion. "I didn't +think you would ever trust any of us again." + +"You think I may regret it?" he said. + +She turned her face to the window and made no answer. + +He sat beside her for a little longer in silence, then rose, bundled up a +travelling-rug to form a cushion, and arranged it in her corner. "Lean +against that," he said kindly. "I know you can sleep if you don't try not +to." + +She thanked him with trembling lips, and as he turned away she caught his +hand for a moment and held it to her cheek. + +He withdrew it at once though with absolute gentleness. He did not speak +a word. + +Thereafter she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but the drumming of +the train was in her ears perpetually, and she could not forget it. +Present also was the consciousness of her husband's quiet watchfulness. +Though he held aloof from her, his care surrounded her unceasingly. Not +once had she felt it relax since she had placed herself in his charge. +Did he guess? she asked herself, and trembled inwardly. He was being very +kind to her in a distant, measured fashion. Was that the reason for it? +Could it be? + +Her thoughts went back to her talk with her cousin, to the bitter words +she had uttered. Would he really care if she were to die? Would he? Would +he? She longed to know. + +But of course he would not, or he could not be so cold. For Bertrand's +sake he had come to fetch her. He had evidently forgiven Bertrand just as +he had forgiven Rupert. He forgave everybody but her, she thought to +herself forlornly. For his wife alone he could not make allowances. + +Again the hot tears welled up, and her closed lids could not keep them +back. The dumb anxiety that had gnawed at her heart all through the day +returned upon her overwhelmingly, became a burden too heavy to be borne. +She covered her face and sobbed. + +"Chris!" Her husband's voice came down to her in the depths of her +distress. His hand pressed her head. "Leave off crying," he said. "You +mustn't cry." + +She turned her face upwards, all blinded with tears. "Trevor, I know--I +know we shan't be in time!" + +They were not the words she wanted to say to him, but they came uppermost +and were uttered almost before she knew. She wondered if they would make +him angry, but it was too late to recall them. She reached out her hands +to him imploringly. + +"Oh, forgive me for caring so much!" + +"Hush!" he said again very gently. "I understand." + +He put the hair back from her forehead, and dried her eyes. There was +something almost maternal in his touch. + +"You mustn't cry," he said again. "I think you will be in time, and if +you are, you will need all your strength; so you mustn't waste it now. +Come, you are going to be brave?" + +"I'll try," she said faintly. + +"See if you can get to sleep," he said. + +"But I know I can't," whispered Chris. + +"I think you can." He spoke with grave conviction. + +"Will you--will you hold my hand?" faltered Chris. + +He took it at once. She felt his fingers close steadily upon it, and a +sense of comfort stole over her. She clasped them very tightly, and +closed her eyes. + +The train drummed on through the night, bearing her back to Valpre, back +to the old enchantments, to the sands, the caves, and the rocks. She +began to hear again the long, low wash of the sea. Or was it the sound of +wheels that raced over the metals? Before her inner vision came the +spreading line of foam that had rushed how often to catch her dancing +feet. And the quiet pools crystal-clear among the rocks, with the +sunshine that turned their pebbly floors to gold, so that they became +palaces of delight, draped with exquisite curtains of rose and palest +green, peopled with scuttling crabs that were not really crabs at all, +but the spellbound retinue of the knight who dwelt in the Magic Cave. + +She looked towards the Gothic archway, expectant, with quickening +breath. Surely he would be coming soon! Ah, now she saw him--a radiant, +white-clad figure, with the splendour of eternal youth upon him and the +Deathless Magic in his eyes. + +And suddenly her own eyes were opened, so that she knew beyond all +doubting that the spell that bound him--that bound them both--was the +spell of Immortality, the Divine Passport--Love the Indestructible. + +Thereafter came a wondrous peace, solacing her, calming her, wrapping her +round. Once she stirred, and was conscious of a quiet hand holding hers, +lulling her to a more assured restfulness. And so at last she slipped +into the quiet of a deep slumber, and the throbbing anxiety sank utterly +away. + +When she opened her eyes again it was in answer to her husband's voice. +She awoke quite naturally to find him bending over her. + +"We are at Valpre," he said. + +She sat up quickly. "Why, I have been asleep!" + +"Yes," he said. "And you will be the better for it. Noel has gone to +secure a conveyance. The place is crammed, as you know. You are feeling +all right?" + +Again for a moment she felt his scrutiny, and her heart quickened under +it. But she mustered a smile. + +"Yes, quite. You will let me come with you, Trevor? You won't go on +first?" + +"I shall not leave you," he said. + +He gave her his hand to descend from the train, and she clung to it while +they threaded their way through the noisy, gesticulating crowd that +thronged the platform. + +She breathed a sigh of relief when she found herself at last in the +ramshackle _fiacre_ which Noel by strenuous effort had managed to +commandeer. The din bewildered her. But for her husband's protecting +presence she would have felt like a lost child. + +As they rumbled away over the stones of Valpre he spoke. "We are in time, +Chris." + +Her heart gave a great throb. "Are we? But how do you know?" + +"Everyone is talking of him," he said quietly. "And I gather that he has +been arrested." + +"Oh, Trevor!" she breathed in dismay. + +"Max is with him," he reminded her. "I don't think they would get rid of +him very easily. We shall know more when we get there." + +They clattered on to the _plage_, and the cold sea wind blew in upon +them. + +Noel snuffed it appreciatively. "Smells decent, anyway. Wonder if they're +still running the same old show. I say, Chris, do you remember the Goat?" + +Chris did. With her face to the dark sea and the sound of its waves in +her ears, she recalled the old light-hearted days and the shrill +admonitions of Mademoiselle Gautier. How often had she prophesied +disaster for her charge among the rocks of Valpre! Chris smiled a little +piteous smile. Ah, well! + +The _fiacre_ jerked and jolted over the stones. They left the _plage_ +behind and came to a standstill with a violent swerve. + +"Now what?" said Noel. + +They seemed to have come suddenly upon a crowd of people. Late though it +was, all Valpre apparently was awake and abroad. + +They staggered on again at a snail's pace, hearing voices all about +them, now and then catching glimpses of faces in the light of the +carriage-lamps. + +"Feels like a funeral procession!" observed Noel jocularly. + +"Shut up!" said Mordaunt curtly. + +Chris squeezed his hand very hard and said nothing. + +Slowly, slowly they drew near to the hotel. A glare of lights shone upon +them. The whole place was a buzz of excitement. + +They turned into the courtyard, passing two soldiers on guard at the +gate. No one spoke to them, or attempted to delay their progress. They +stopped before the swing-doors. + +An obsequious official came forward to greet them as they descended, and +Mordaunt entered into conversation with him. Two soldiers were on guard +here also, standing like images on each side of the entrance. Noel +studied them with frank interest. Chris stood and waited as one in a +dream. + +At last her husband turned to her. He introduced the obsequious one, who +bowed very low and declared himself enchanted. And then she found herself +moving through the vestibule, where a great many men of all nationalities +looked at her curiously and a great babble of voices hummed like some +immense machinery. + +She turned to the man beside her with a touch of nervousness, and at once +his hand closed upon her arm. + +"Bertrand is still living," he said. + +She looked up at him imploringly. "Can't we go to him?" + +"Yes, we are going now. He is upstairs. They wanted to take him to the +fortress, but he is too ill to be moved." + +They went on together. He led her into a lift, and they passed out of +reach of the staring crowd. + +A familiar figure was awaiting them above, and greeted Chris +deferentially as she stepped into the corridor. + +"Why, Holmes!" she said, and held out her hand to him. + +He took it with reverence. For the first time in her memory she detected +a hint of emotion on his impassive face. + +"He--hasn't gone, Holmes?" she whispered breathlessly. + +"No, madam. He is waiting for you," Holmes made answer, very gently. + +Waiting for her! She smiled piteously in her relief. Bertrand de +Montville would be her perfect knight to the last. + +As they went on down the long corridor she missed the grasp of her +husband's fingers, and stopped like a child to slip her hand back into +his. + +He looked down at her gravely, saying nothing. And so they came at last +to the door of Bertrand's room. + +Two soldiers were on guard here also. The door was closed. + +Holmes went quietly forward and showed a paper to one of the sentries. + +Chris waited with a beating heart. Suddenly, with a sob, she turned and +clung to her husband's arm. "Trevor, I--I am afraid!" + +"There is no need," he said. + +"I have never seen death," she whispered. "Will he seem--different?" + +He looked at her for a second in such a way that her eyes fell from his. + +"Would you like me to go in first?" he asked. + +"No--no. Only, Trevor, hold my hand! You won't let go? Promise!" + +He did not promise, but somehow without words he reassured her. The door +opened before them, and they entered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE INDESTRUCTIBLE + + +Within the room all was dim. + +An arm-chair piled with many pillows stood facing the open window, and as +her eyes became accustomed to the twilight Chris discerned the outline of +a figure that reclined in it. At the same moment there came to her the +sound of a voice, husky and difficult, yet how strangely familiar. + +"Ah, but the tide--the tide!" it said. "Can we not hold it back my dear +Max--a little longer? It rushes up so fast--so fast. Soon all will be +gone. Only a picture in the sand, you say? But no, it is more than that. +See, it is greater than all the things in the world--greater than +the Sphinx, _ma petite_--greater than your Cleopatra's Needle. Ah, you +laugh, because you have no need of it. But yet it is your own, and so +will it always be. Do you hear the tide among the rocks, _mignonne_? It +is there that my heart is buried. Come with me, and I will show you the +place--if the tide permit." + +There came a gasp, and silence. + +Some one guided Chris gently forward till she stood behind the great +chair at the window, looking down upon the black head that rested +against the pillow. Her fear had passed, but yet she drew no nearer. +Instinctively she stood and waited. + +Suddenly, and more clearly, the voice spoke again. + +"We must climb, _cherie_, we must climb. We dare not stay upon these +rocks. It is steep for your little feet, but to remain here is to die. +_Alors_, we will say our prayers and go. _Le bon Dieu_ will keep us safe. +And we have been--pals--since so long." + +A softer note in the last sentence made her aware that he was smiling. +She bent a little above him. But still she waited. + +"_Comment_?" he said. "You are afraid? But why, my bird of Paradise? Is +it life that you fear--this little life of shadows? Or Death--which is +the gateway to our great Reality? Listen, _mignonne_! I am a prisoner +while I live, but the gate opens to me. Soon I shall be free. No, no! +I cannot take you with me. I would not, _cherie_, if I could. Your place +is here. But remember--always--that I love you still. And my love is +stronger than death. It stretches into eternity." + +He paused, and made a slight gesture of refusal. "Ah, no!" he said. "I do +not want a priest. My sins are all known--and pardoned. I only want--one +thing now." + +"What is it, old chap?" It was Max Wyndham's voice, but pitched so low +that Chris scarcely recognized it. + +The head on the pillow moved, turning towards the speaker. "So, _mon +ami_, you are still there?" + +"What is it you are wanting?" Max said. + +Bertrand drew a breath that was cut short and ended in a gasp. "_Mon +ami_, I only want--to hold her little hand in mine--and to hear her +say--that she is--happy." + +And then it was that Chris moved forward, as if impelled by a volition +not her own, and knelt down by Bertrand's side. + +"Do you want me, Bertie?" she said. "I've come, dear! I've come!" + +He put out his hand to her at once, but slowly, as though feeling his +way. "Christine!" he said. + +She took the groping hand, and held it fast pressed between her own. +"Yes, dear?" she murmured. + +"You are really here?" he said. "It is not--a dream?" + +"No, Bertie, no! It is I myself, here with you at Valpre." + +She felt his hand close within her own. "You are come--to say good-bye to +me?" he said. "And Mr. Mordaunt--is he here also?" + +"He brought me," whispered Chris. + +"Ah!" She heard the relief in his voice. "Then--Christine, all is right +between you?" + +But she was silent, for she could not answer him. + +He stirred. He leaned slowly forward. "Tell me," he said, very earnestly, +"tell me that all is well between you." + +But Chris said no word. She only bowed her head over the hand she held. + +There was a brief silence. Bertrand was bending over her. He seemed to be +trying to see her face. He moved at last, passed his free arm around her, +and spoke. "Mr. Mordaunt--is he here?" + +"Yes, I am here." Very steadily came Mordaunt's answer. Mordaunt himself +took Max's place beside him. + +Bertrand looked up at him. "Monsieur--" he said, and hesitated. + +"Ask him what he wants," muttered Max, gripping his brother-in-law's +elbow with tense insistence. + +"Do you want anything?" He uttered the question at once, quite clearly, +without emotion. + +"Monsieur," Bertrand said again, and there was entreaty in his voice, +"out of your great goodness of heart you have brought _la petite_ to +say adieu to me. Will you not--extend that goodness--a little farther? +Will you not--now that you understand--now that you understand"--he +repeated the phrase insistently--"remove the estrangement of which I have +been--the so unhappy cause?" + +"Bertie, no--no!" There was sharp pain in Chris's voice. She raised +herself quickly. "You don't understand, dear, and I--can't explain. But +you are not to ask that of him. I can't bear it." + +There was a quiver of passion in the last words. It was as though they +were uttered in spite of her. + +Mordaunt stood motionless, in utter silence. His face was in shadow. + +Bertrand turned to the kneeling girl. "Will you, then, plead for +yourself, _cherie_?" he said. "He will not refuse you. He knows all." + +"No, no; he doesn't," said Chris. + +"But you will tell him," urged Bertrand gently. "See, I cannot leave +you--my two good friends--thus. Since I have caused so much trouble +between you, I must do my possible to redress the evil. _Cherie_, promise +me--that you will go back to him. Not otherwise shall I die happy." + +"I can't!" whispered Chris. "I can't!" + +"But why not?" he said. "You love him, yes?" + +But Chris was silent. She was trembling from head to foot. + +"I know that you love him," Bertrand said, with confidence. "And for +that--you will go back to him. You cannot live your life apart from him. +You belong to him, Christine, and he--he belongs to you. Mr. Mordaunt--my +dear friend--is it not so?" + +But before he could answer, feverishly Chris again broke in. "Bertie, +hush--hush! It isn't right! It isn't fair! Oh, forgive me for saying it! +But can't you see that it isn't? He has forgiven me, and we are friends. +But you mustn't ask any more than that, because--because it's no use." A +sudden sob rose in her throat. She swallowed it with an immense effort. +"He has been kind to me--for your sake," she said, "not my own. I have +done nothing to deserve his kindness. I have never been worthy of him, +and he knows it. I married him, loving you. Oh no, I didn't know it, but +I ought to have known. And when I did know, I would have left him and +gone with you. Nothing can ever alter that. And do you suppose he will +ever forget it? Because I know--I know--that he never can!" + +She ceased abruptly, and turned aside to battle with her agitation. +Bertrand's hand stroked hers very tenderly, but his eyes were raised to +the man who stood like a statue by his side. + +He spoke after a moment very softly, almost as if to himself. +"Neither will he forget," he said, "that our love was a summer +idyll that came to us unawares in the days when we were young, and +that though the idyll will come to an end, our love is a gift +immortal--imperishable--indestructible--a flame that burns upwards and +always upwards--reaching the Divine. And because he remembers this, +he will understand, and think no evil. Christine," he turned to her again +very persuasively, "you love him. You have need of him. I know it well. +You are sad. You are lonely. Your heart cries out for him. Little +Christine, will you not listen to it? Will you not go back to him?" + +The man's whole soul was in the words. They quivered with the intensity +of his appeal. Yet they went into silence. Chris was turned away from +him. Only by the convulsive holding of her hand did he know that they had +reached her heart. + +The silence lengthened, became oppressive, became a burden too heavy to +be borne. + +"Christine!" He was becoming exhausted. His voice was no more than a +whisper, but it throbbed with earnest entreaty. + +Yet Chris remained silent still, for she could not speak in answer. + +Several seconds passed. It seemed that the appeal would go unanswered. +But at length the man who stood on Bertrand's other side made a quiet +movement, bending down a little. + +"You need not distress yourself, Bertrand," he said, very steadily, and +as he spoke his hand was on the Frenchman's shoulder. "Chris will never +leave me again." + +"Ah!" Eagerly Bertrand looked up at him. He had begun to gasp again, +and his words were hurried and difficult of utterance. "And you, +monsieur--you will not--leave her?" + +Mordaunt made no verbal answer, but their eyes must have met in the +dimness and some message have passed between them, for there was a tremor +of sheer relief in his voice when Bertrand spoke again. + +"Oh, my friend!" he said. "My dear friend!" And, yielding to the hand +that gently pressed him back, he reclined upon his pillows and became +passive. + +Mordaunt remained beside him for several seconds longer, but he did not +speak again. When he straightened himself at length, he glanced round for +Max, and motioned him away. + +They went together into the adjoining room and softly closed the door. + +And so Chris and her _preux chevalier_ were left alone by the open window +to end their summer idyll to the music of the rising tide that crooned +and murmured among the rocks of Valpre that had seen its beginning. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE END OF THE VOYAGE + + +How the sun was shining on the water! What a glorious morning for a +bathe! Chris laughed to herself--a happy little, inconsequent laugh. + +But she must be quick or Mademoiselle Gautier would catch her and forbid +her to go! Poor old Mademoiselle, who had been brought up in a convent +and thought all nice things were improper! + +Would Bertie be there with his boat, a white-clad, supple figure, with +his handsome olive face, and his dark eyes with their friendly laugh? +Surely it was the flash of his oars in the sunlight that dazzled her so! +She would swim to him through the crystal water, and he would stretch out +his hands to her, and she would go up to him like a bird from the sea, +and perch upon the stern. He would scold her a little for swimming out so +far, but what of that? She liked being scolded by Bertie! + +How warmly the sun shone down upon them! And how she loved to watch the +slim activity of him as he bent to his work! She wished they did not move +quite so fast, even though the speed was so delicious, for they were +nearing the rocks. Oh no, she was not afraid! Who could be afraid with +Bertie in the boat? But when they reached the rocks, it would be the end +of the voyage, and she did not want it to end. + +Ah! now she could catch the sparkle of the sand, and there away in the +distance a powdery whirl which was all she could see of Cinders. He was +evidently digging for dear life, and again Chris laughed. + +And now she stood with her back to the glittering sea, and her face to +the mysterious granite of the ages. Where had he gone--her _preux +chevalier_? Was he hidden in the dark recesses of the Magic Cave? She +would go in search of him. He would not hide long from her, for she +possessed the secret of the spell that would draw him forth. + +But the rocks were slippery under her feet, and more than once she +stumbled. She found herself confronted by obstacles such as had never +before obstructed her path. A little tremor of distress went through her. +Why had she quitted that sunny sea? Why had she ever suffered herself to +be beguiled into the boat? + +It became increasingly difficult, wellnigh impossible, to go forward. She +turned aside. Ah! there was Bertie, after all, out on the sand, waiting +for her. He held a naked sword in his hand. Evidently he was drawing +pictures. She knew what they would be before she reached him: St. George +and the Dragon, that "beast enormous with eyes of fire"; the Sphinx, and +Cleopatra's Needle. She saw them all; and soon the great tide would race +up with a mighty roaring and wash them all away. Was it not the destiny +of all things--save one? + +Stay! Was it the sand on which he was expending his skill thus? Why, +then, did his sword move so swiftly, like lightning-flashes, where the +sun caught it? Ah, now she saw more clearly. It was a duel. He was +fighting with every inch of him, steadfast, unflinching, in her cause. +How splendidly he controlled himself! The clear grace of his every +movement held her spellbound. + +For a while she watched him, not heeding his adversary, watched the glint +of the crossed swords, the pass, the thrust, and the return. And then, by +some mysterious influence, her eyes were drawn upward to the face of his +opponent, and it was as if one of those flashing blades had found her +heart. For Bertrand de Montville was fighting the grey-eyed, level-browed +Englishman who was her husband! + +With a cry she sprang forward to intervene. She flung herself between +them in an agony. One of them--Trevor--caught her in his arms. The other +staggered backwards and fell upon the sand. She saw his dead face as he +lay.... + +"Oh, Trevor!" she cried in anguish. "Trevor! Trevor!" + +He held her closely to him. She felt his hand laid in soothing on her +head. Gasping, she opened her eyes upon his face. + +"That's better," he said gently. "You've had a bad dream." + +"Was it a dream?" she asked him wildly. "Was it a dream?" + +And then she remembered that Bertrand had fallen asleep in the very early +hours of the morning, and that they had led her away to another room to +rest. Worn out in mind and body, she had yielded. She marvelled now that +she had been so easily persuaded. + +She turned within the circle of her husband's arm. "Trevor, you promised +you would call me if he waked." + +His hand was still upon her head; its touch was sustaining, subtly +comforting. "He did not wake, dear," he said. + +The words were few, but in a flash she knew the truth. Her eyes grew wide +and dark. Her clinging hands tightened upon his arm. She made no sound of +any sort. She even ceased to breathe. + +He drew her head down upon his shoulder, and held her fast pressed +against his breast. "Don't be afraid," he said. + +But she remained tense in his arms, till her rigidity and silence alarmed +him. He began to rub her cold cheek. + +"Chris, speak to me!" + +She turned her face into his breast, and with relief he heard her begin +to breathe again. But she did not speak. She only lay there dumbly in +crushed stillness. + +For a while he waited, but at last, as she made no movement, he spoke +again. "Chris, would you like me to leave you?" + +That reached her. She turned her face quickly upwards. "No, Trevor." + +The wide, strained look was still in her eyes, but they did not flinch +from his. + +"I knew he was dead," she said, speaking very quickly, "when I woke up +just now. I thought--I thought--" She broke off, as if she could not +continue. "And afterwards--directly I saw you by my side--I knew it was +true. Trevor"--the piteous note sounded again in her voice--"why are you +not afraid of death?" + +"Because I don't believe in it," he said. + +"But yet--but yet--" Her words faltered away into silence. + +He laid his hand again upon her head. "My dear, death is purely physical. +You know it in your heart as well as I do. Death is the passing of the +spirit--no more than that." + +She uttered a deep sigh. "Oh, Trevor, I wish I wasn't so wicked." + +His hand began to caress her hair. "I don't think you know what +wickedness is, dear," he said. + +"But I do--I do!" she protested. "I--I am almost terrified sometimes when +I realize it. And I feel as if--as if--Bertie wouldn't have been taken +away--if I hadn't loved him so." Her voice sank, she hid her face a +little lower. + +"But you make a mistake," he said gently. "There is no sin in love--so +long as it is love and nothing else. A good many sins masquerade in the +form of love, but love itself--what you and I call love--is sinless. And +it is that--and that alone--that can never die." He paused a moment, and +his hand ceased to stroke her bright hair and became still. "It is bad +enough," he said, his voice sunk very low, "that I could ever +misunderstand you; but, my dear, don't make things harder by +misunderstanding yourself." + +She moved at that as though it touched her very nearly, and suddenly she +slipped from his arms, and knelt beside him. "Trevor," she said, with +quivering lips, "don't be too kind to me! I can't bear it." + +He looked down at her very sadly. "It would be a new experience for you, +my Chris, if I were," he said. + +"No--no." She bent her face quickly, and laid it against his hand. "I've +deceived you a hundred times--yes, and lied to you. You bore with me over +and over again, even when you knew I wasn't being straight. You did your +very utmost to keep me true. You trusted me even when you knew I was +cheating. Oh, I don't wonder that I killed your love at last. The wonder +was that it lived so long." + +She stopped, for his hand had clenched upon itself at her words. But he +said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue. She went on +quickly-- + +"I know you feel you must be kind to me now because"--she caught her +breath--"Bertie is gone, and he wished it so. But--but--I shan't +expect--a great deal. I--I shall be quite grateful--if I may have--a +little friendship. I don't want you to think that--that--" + +"That you want my love?" he said. + +"Oh, I didn't mean that!" She looked up at him in distress, but she could +not see his face with any distinctness. + +His elbow was on the arm of his chair, and his hand shaded it. + +"I know I forfeited all that," she said. "And I want you to feel that +I--understand, and shall never expect to have it again. That is what I +mean when I say, don't be too kind to me. You have been that, and much +more than that, already. But I won't trade on your generosity. I am not a +child any longer to need support and protection. I am old enough to stand +alone." + +"And what of my promise to Bertrand?" + +He asked the question quite quietly, as though it were of no special +moment to him, but she flinched before it, and turned her face aside. + +"Oh, I don't think he would want you to be kind to me for his sake--if he +knew how much it hurt?" + +Mordaunt was silent for a moment, then: "And you have no use for my +love?" he said. + +She made a movement almost convulsive. "Trevor, don't--torture me!" + +"My child," he said, "I only ask because I need to know." + +She laid a trembling hand on his. "If I thought--you loved me--" She +stopped, battling desperately for self-control, and after a few seconds +began again. "If I thought--you wanted me--" + +"I do want you, Chris," he said. + +She cast a startled look into his face. "Oh, but you only say that +because--because--" + +"Because it is the truth," he said. + +"But is it the truth?" she asked, a little wildly. "Is it? Is it? Oh, +Trevor, if you knew--if you knew--" Her voice failed. She began to sob. +"I can't bear it," she whispered. "I can't! I can't!" And with that she +broke down utterly, bowing her head upon his knee in a passion of weeping +more violent than he had ever before witnessed. + +"Chris! Chris!" he said. + +He would have lifted her, but she sank lower, as one crushed to the earth +by a burden too heavy to be borne. + +For a while her weeping was the only sound in the room, but at length he +spoke again over her bowed head. + +"Chris--my darling--do you know--I can't bear it either if you cry like +this?" + +His voice was low and not very steady. It appealed to her even in the +depth of her distress. She stretched up a trembling hand, and clasped +his. + +Gradually her sobbing grew less violent, and at length it ceased; but she +remained crouched against his knee with her face hidden for many minutes. + +Trevor said no more. Only at last he bent and laid his lips upon her +hair. + +She moved then sharply, and for a single instant she saw his face. It was +enough, more than enough for her quick heart. In a moment the barrier +between them was down. She raised herself and threw her arms around his +neck. + +"My dear! My dear!" she said. + +"It's all right," he whispered back. + +Her arms tightened. She clung to him passionately. "Trevor--darling, I +didn't know! I didn't understand!" + +"It's all right," he said again. + +She pressed her face to his. "Trevor, don't fret, dear! I'm not worth it. +And I--I'm coming back to you--if you will have me." + +"I want you," he answered simply. + +"Not just for his sake?" she pleaded. "Or even for mine?" + +"For my own," he said. + +She was silent for a little. Then impulsively, with something of her old, +quick charm of movement, she turned her lips to his. "Trevor, I believe I +should die without you." + +"Poor child!" he said gently. + +"No--no! Don't pity me! Love me--love me!" + +He pressed her closer. "My Chris, no one ever loved you more." + +"Yes," she whispered. "I know that now. And I shall never forget it. +Trevor, I love you, too. You believe that?" + +"I know it, dear," he said. + +"And because I love you," she said, "I'm not afraid of you any more. +Trevor, let us promise each other that nothing shall ever come between us +again." + +"Nothing ever shall," he said steadily. + +"Nothing ever shall," she repeated softly. "And--and--Trevor--" She +suddenly hid her face against his shoulder and became silent again. + +"But you are not afraid of me?" he said. + +"No, dear, no; not afraid." Her voice quivered notwithstanding. "Only +foolish, you know, and--and--a little doubtful lest--lest--when I've told +you--something--you shouldn't be quite--pleased." + +"I am--quite pleased, dear," he said. + +She raised her head. "Trevor! You know?" + +He took her face between his hands. "My darling, yes." + +She opened her eyes wide, searching his face. "But that--that wasn't your +reason for--wanting me back?" + +He looked straight down into her eyes, still holding her. "I wonder if I +need answer that question," he said slowly. + +She was silent for a moment, then stretched her hands to him with a +gesture of complete confidence. "No, dear, you needn't. Just forgive me +for asking--that's all." + +He stooped at once without speaking, and the kiss that passed between +them was the seal of a perfect understanding. + +Not till some time later did the request he was expecting her to make +find utterance. He had been giving her a few details of Bertrand's +illness and death. + +"He simply went in his sleep," he said, "scarcely an hour after you left +him. Max and I were both with him, but he went so easily that we neither +of us knew when it was. There was no suffering or distress of any sort. +He just passed." + +He spoke with great gentleness. He was keenly anxious to remove her fear +of death. But he knew by the way her arm tightened about his neck that +something of the awe of it was upon her even while he spoke. + +"Trevor," she said, in a very low voice, "I almost think I would like to +see him." + +"Yes, dear." + +"But--I can't go alone," she said. "Will you come too?" + +"Of course," he said. + +She rose to her feet. "Let's go now." + +He rose also with her hand in his. "There is some stuff here Max gave me +for you," he said. "Drink that first." + +"Where is Max?" she asked. + +"I sent him to bed, and Noel too." + +"And you have been sitting up with me ever since?" + +"It was only three hours," he said. + +He gave her Max's draught with the words, as if to check all comment on +his action, and Chris submissively said no more. But she held his hand +very tightly as they went out together. + +The dawn was just spreading golden over the sea when they entered the +room where Bertrand lay asleep. The light of it poured in at the open +window like a benediction. Outside, the two sentries still stood on +guard. But within was no earthly presence, only the scent and sound of +the sea, only the growing splendour of the day, only the quiet dead +waiting for the Resurrection.... + +Chris's hand trembled within her husband's as she drew near. But later, +when she looked upon the dear, familiar face, the awe went out of her +own. + +For Bertrand's sleep was very easy, serenely natural. It seemed to Chris +that the man's vanished youth had come back to beautify his rest. For all +the weariness she had grown accustomed to see had passed away. She even +thought he smiled. + +Back on a rush of memory came his words: "I know that all Love is +eternal, and Death is only an incident in eternity." + +Till that moment they had never recurred to her. From that moment she +carried them perpetually in her heart. + +She drew a little nearer. She bent above him. And it was to her as if the +dead lips spoke: "Though I shall not be with you, you will know that I am +loving you still. It will be as an Altar Flame that burns for ever. +Believe me, Christine, Death is a very small thing compared with Love." + +"I know it, I know it," whispered Chris. + +When she stood up again, though her eyes were shining through tears, she +was smiling also. + +"Your friend and mine, Trevor," she murmured. "May I--may I kiss him just +once? I never have before." + +"Of course you may," he said. + +She bent again, bent till her lips just touched the dead man's brow. + +"I won't disturb you, _preux chevalier_," she whispered. "Only +good-night, dear! Good-night!" + +For a little while she stood looking down upon the dead man's rest; but +at length she turned away, drawing her husband with her, and went to the +open window. + +Hand in hand they looked out upon a world in which "all things were made +new." They spoke no word. They thought the same thoughts together, and no +words were needed. + +Only when they turned at length from the shimmering sunlight back into +the quiet room, their eyes met. And in the silence Trevor Mordaunt bent +with reverence and kissed the living, as she had kissed the dead. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE PROCESSION UNDER THE WINDOWS + + +Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! The procession was passing under the windows. + +Bertrand de Montville, the vindicated hero, was being borne to his +soldier's grave on the hill by the fortress. Soldiers preceded him. +Soldiers followed him. A mixed crowd of journalists--men from all parts +of Europe--came after. And from the window above, his little pal looked +down. + +Max Wyndham stood beside her, the corners of his mouth drawn down and a +very peculiar expression in his green eyes. He had amazed his French +friend by refusing to follow the _cortege_. Even Chris did not know why, +for he had clothed himself in an impenetrable cloak of reserve since +Bertrand's death, and he was not apparently minded to lift it even for +her benefit. + +Yet she was glad to have him with her, for Noel had elected to go with +Mordaunt; and though she was quite willing to be left alone, she found +Max's presence a help. She had seen but little of him until the moment +that they stood together looking down upon the passing procession. + +It was a grey day. Down on the shore the long waves rolled in to break in +wide lines of surf up the rock-strewn beach. The thunder of their +breaking mingled with the roll of muffled drums. The full honours of a +soldier's funeral were to be accorded to the man who had died before +France could make amends. + +Slowly the procession wound along the _plage_, and back upon Chris's +memory flashed the day when she and Cinders had waited at the garden gate +to see the soldiers pass. She saw again the handsome face of the young +officer marching behind his men, the sudden animation leaping into it at +sight of her, the eagerness with which he turned to greet her, his +momentary hesitation at her request, his smiling surrender. What would +have happened, she asked herself, if he had managed to resist her that +day? Had that been the beginning of his downfall? Might he otherwise +have passed on unscathed? + +A sudden sense of coldness assailed her. The street below was empty. She +stood alone. She leaned her head against the window-frame. How grey it +was! + +"Sit down!" said Max practically. + +She started. "Oh, Max!" she said weakly. + +"Here you are," he said, and guided her down into a chair. "That's the +way. Now lean back and shut your eyes." + +She obeyed him, without question, as she always did. A vague sense of +consolation began to steal through her. His hand, holding hers, dispelled +the loneliness. + +After a while she opened her eyes and found him watching her. "Oh, Max," +she said, "I'm so glad you are here." + +"It seems as well," he rejoined, rather grimly. "Don't you think it's +time you began to behave rationally?" + +"Have I been very silly?" she asked. + +"Very, I should say." He sat down on the arm of her chair, and drew her +head to lean against him, a very rare demonstration with him. + +She relaxed with a sigh. "I can't help it," she said wistfully. "I used +to think life was just splendid--it was good to be alive. And now--I +sometimes wish I'd never been born." + +"Which is a mistake," said Max. "There's no time for that sort of thing. +Besides, it's futile. Now, don't cry! That's futile, too, when there is +anything else to be done. I don't suppose Trevor will be feeling +particularly jolly when he gets back from this show--though there's +something rather funny about it to my mind--and you'll have to cheer him +up. I suppose you won't be upset if I smoke?" + +"What can you see funny in it?" questioned Chris. + +He lighted his cigarette before replying. "My dear girl," he said then, +"I can't endow you with a sense of humour if you don't possess one. But +all this pomp and circumstance has got its funny side, I assure you. +Bertrand saw that; he was a philosopher. If he were here now, he would +snap his fingers and laugh." + +"He might," Chris admitted. "At least, he called it a dream in the midst +of a great Reality." + +"Which it is," said Max. "Get outside it all. Get above it if you can. +And you will see. Come, you mustn't grizzle. You don't seriously suppose +you've lost anything, do you?" He looked down at her suddenly, with a +smile in his shrewd eyes. "I say, you must get rid of that idea," he +said. "Even I know better than that. I believe in my own way I was almost +as fond of him as you were. But I knew he was going long ago, and that +nothing on earth could stop him. He knew it too. Between ourselves, I +don't think he much wanted to stop. But there was nothing unwholesome +about him. He wasn't a shirker. He played the game. And now you're going +to play it, eh? You're going to buck up. You're going to give Trevor a +sample of what the Wyndhams can do. I know we're a rotten tribe, but +we've got our points. In Heaven's name, let's make the most of 'em!" + +He bent abruptly and kissed her. + +"Life's all right," he said. "And so's the world. But you've got to get +used to the idea that it's not a place to stay in. It's no good sitting +down by the wayside to cry. You've got to look on ahead and keep moving. +It's the only possible way. If you don't, you get buried in every +sand-storm." + +Chris reached up her arms and clasped him very tightly. "Max, tell me +Love doesn't die!" + +"It doesn't," said Max stoutly. + +"You are sure? You are sure?" + +"Yes, I am sure." + +"How do you know? Tell me--tell me!" + +Chris's voice was piteous. Yet for a moment he was silent. Then, "I +know," he said, "by the way that chap faced death." + +"Because he wasn't afraid?" she whispered. "Because he died so easily?" + +"Because he didn't die," said Max. + + * * * * * + +Late that night the clouds passed, and a new moon rose behind the +fortress and threw a golden shimmer over the sea. The waves were washing +over the rocks with a deep, mysterious murmuring. To Chris, kneeling at +her window, it was as if they were trying to tell her a secret. She had +knelt down to pray, but her thoughts had wandered, and somehow she could +not call them back. Almost in spite of herself, she went in spirit over +the rocks till she came to the Magic Cave. And here she would have +entered, but could not, for the tide was rising and barred her out. + +"Not there, _mignonne_," said a soft voice at her side. + +She turned her head. Surely he had spoken in the stillness! Surely it was +no dream! + +But the action brought her back, back to the shadowy room, and the +moonlit sea, and the prayer that was still little more than a vague +longing in her heart. + +She uttered a brief sigh, and rose. And in that moment she found herself +face to face with her husband. + +"Trevor!" she said, startled. + +He was standing close to her, and suddenly she knew that he had been +there for some time, waiting for her to rise. + +Her first impulse was one of nervous irresolution, but it possessed her +for a moment only. With scarcely a pause she went straight into his arms. + +"I'm so glad you've come," she whispered. "Isn't the sea lovely? Have +you--have you seen the new moon?" + +He held her in silence, and she heard the beating of his heart, strong +and steady, where she had pillowed her head. She turned her face upwards +after a little. + +"Trevor, do you remember, long ago, how we saw the new moon together--and +you wished? Have you wished this time?" + +"It is always the same wish with me," he said. + +"What! Hasn't it come true yet?" She leaned her head back to see his face +the better. "Trevor," she said, "are you sure it hasn't come true?" + +She saw his faint smile in the moonlight. "I think I should know if it +had, dear." + +"I'm not so sure," said Chris. "Men are very silly. They never see +anything that isn't absolutely in black and white, and not always then. +Tell me what it was you wished for." + +But he shook his head. "That isn't fair, is it? If the gods hear, it will +be struck off the list at once." + +"Never mind the gods," said Chris despotically. "I'll get it for you +somehow--even if they do. Now tell me! Whisper!" She drew down his head +and waited expectantly. + +"What a ghastly predicament!" he said. + +"Trevor! Don't laugh! I'm not laughing." + +"I'm sorry," he said. "But really I can't afford to run any risks of that +sort." + +"Then you still think you may get it?" questioned Chris. + +"I think it possible--if the gods are kind." + +"My dear," she said suddenly, "let's leave off joking. If it's something +you're wanting very badly, why don't you--pray for it?" + +"I am praying for it, sweetheart," he said. + +"Oh, Trevor, tell me! And I'll pray, too." + +She wound her arms persuasively about his neck. Her face was very sweet +in the moonlight. The deep-sea eyes were very tender. + +He looked into them and yielded. "Chris, I am praying for the love of the +woman I love." + +"Oh, but, Trevor--Trevor--" + +"Yes," he said, and his voice vibrated upon a deeper note--a note that +was passionate. "I want more than a little, my Chris. But I will be +patient. I will wait all my life long if I must. Only--O God, let me win +it at last!" + +He stopped. She was looking at him strangely, and there was something +about her that he had never seen before--something that compelled. + +"But, Trevor dearest," she said, "it was yours long--long ago. Oh, don't +you understand? How shall I make you understand?" + +She clasped him closer. The moonlight was shining in her eyes--the eyes +of a woman who had come through suffering into peace. + +"My darling," she said, "before God, I am telling you the truth. If you +hadn't come back to me, I should have broken my heart." + +He took her head between his hands. He bent his face to hers, looking +deep into those shining, unswerving eyes. + +"Won't you believe me?" she pleaded. "Dear, I couldn't lie to you if I +tried. Must I put it more plainly still? Then listen! You are more to me +now than Bertie ever was. I do not say more than he might have been. But +we can't put back the clock. I wouldn't if I could. No--no, not even to +live again those old happy days. Trevor, do you understand now, dear? For +if you don't, not even Aunt Philippa could be harder to convince. I am +yours. I am yours. The other was a dream that can only come true in +Paradise. But this is our Reality--yours and mine. And I can't live +without you. I want you so. I love you so. Trevor--my husband!" + +Her lips quivered suddenly, but in that moment his found them and +possessed them. She gave herself to him in complete surrender, as she had +given herself on their wedding-night. Yet with a difference. For she +throbbed in his arms; she thrilled to his touch. She opened to him the +doors of her soul, and drew him within... + +"And now you understand?" she whispered to him later. + +"Yes--I understand," he said. + +She laid her head again upon his breast. "To understand all is to forgive +all," she said. + +To which he answered softly, "But there is nothing to forgive." + + +THE END + + +By Ethel M. Dell + +The Way of an Eagle +The Hundredth Chance +The Knave of Diamonds +The Safety Curtain +The Rocks of Valpre +Greatheart +The Swindler +The Lamp in the Desert +The Keeper of the Door +The Tidal Wave +Bars of Iron +The Top of the World +Rosa Mundi +The Odds and Other Stories +The Obstacle Race +Charles Rex + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROCKS OF VALPRE*** + + +******* This file should be named 13547.txt or 13547.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/5/4/13547 + + + +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. 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