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diff --git a/33490.txt b/33490.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad6e90a --- /dev/null +++ b/33490.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17873 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gambler, by Katherine Cecil Thurston + +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 Gambler + A Novel + +Author: Katherine Cecil Thurston + +Release Date: August 22, 2010 [EBook #33490] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GAMBLER *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +[Illustration: He lowered the candles and drew back.] + + +THE GAMBLER + +_A NOVEL_ + + +By + +KATHERINE CECIL THURSTON + +Author of "The Circle," "The Masquerader," etc. + + +With Illustrations by JOHN CAMERON + + +TORONTO +FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY +1905 + +Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one +thousand nine hundred and five, by FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY, Toronto, +Ontario, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. + + + +TO + +THE MEMORY + +OF + +MY MOTHER + + + + +Transcriber's Note: Only the Frontispiece and illustration on page 61 +are included in this ebook. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +He lowered the candles and drew back _Frontispiece_ + + FACING PAGE + +With a fierce gesture he took another step forward 61 + +The little crowd of curious idlers 123 + +The younger ... stared at her 141 + +"The End!" she said to Serracauld 210 + +Night after night she had sat in the stifling atmosphere 241 + +The two dogs looked swiftly from her face to their master's 287 + +She slipped to the door--opened it 337 + + + + +THE GAMBLER + + + + +_PART I_ + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +An eight-mile drive over rain-washed Irish roads in the quick-falling +dusk of autumn is an experience trying to the patience, even to the +temper, of the average Saxon. Yet James Milbanke made neither comment +nor objection as mile after mile of roadway spun away like a ribbon +behind him, as the mud rose in showers from the wheels of the +old-fashioned trap in which he sat, and the half-trained mare between +the shafts swerved now to the right, now to the left--her nervous +glance caught by the spectral shapes of the blackthorn hedges or the +motionless forms of the wayside donkeys, lying asleep in the ditches. +Perhaps this stoicism was the outcome of an innate power to endure; +perhaps it was a merely negative quality, illustrating the lack of that +doubtful blessing, imagination. But whatever its origin, it stood him +in good stead as he covered the long stretch of flat country that links +the south-eastern seaport of Muskeere with the remote fishing village +of Carrigmore and its outlying district of Orristown. + +His outlook upon Ireland, like his outlook upon life, was untinged by +humour. He had seen no ground for amusement in the fact that he had +been the only passenger to alight from the train at the Muskeere +terminus, and consequently no ground for loneliness in the sight of the +solitary vehicle, dimly silhouetted against the murky sky, that had +awaited his coming. The ludicrous points of the scene: the primitive +railway station with its insufficient flickering lights, its little +knot of inquisitive idlers, its one porter--slovenly, amiable, +incorrigibly lazy--all contributing the unconscious background to his +own neat, conventional, totally alien personality, had left him +untouched. + +The only individual to whom the picture had made its appeal had been +the solitary porter. As he relieved Milbanke of his valise and rug on +the step of the first-class carriage, an undeniable twinkle had gleamed +in his eyes. + +"Fine, soft night, sir," he had volunteered. "Tim Burke is outside for +you." + +For a second Milbanke had stared at him in a mixture of doubt and +displeasure. A month's pilgrimage to the ancient Celtic landmarks had +left him, as it has left many a Saxon before him, unlearned in that +most interesting and most inscrutable of all survivals--the Celt +himself. He had surveyed the face of the porter cautiously and half +distrustfully; then he had made a guarded reply. + +"I am certainly expecting a--a conveyance," he had admitted. "But I +have never heard of Tim Burke." + +"Why, thin Tim has heard of _you_!" the other had replied with unruffled +suavity. "Isn't it the English gintlemen that's goin' to stop wid Mr. +Asshlin over at Orristown that you are? Sure, Tim told me all about you; +an' I knew you the minute I sat eyes on you--let alone there was no wan +else in the train." + +Without more ado he had hoisted Milbanke's belongings to his shoulder, +and lounged out of the station. + +"Here you are, Tim, man!" he had exclaimed as he deposited the articles +one after another under the seat of the trap with a lofty disregard of +their owner. "'Tis a soft night an' a long road you have before you! Is +it cold the mare is?" He had paused to eye the impatient young animal +before him, with the Irishman's unfailing appreciation of horse-flesh. + +Here Milbanke, feeling that some veiled reproof had been suggested, had +broken in upon the monologue. + +"I hope I haven't injured the horse by the delay," he had said hastily. +"The train was exactly twenty-two minutes behind its time." + +Then for the first time the old coachman had bent down from his lofty +position. + +"An', sure, what harm if it was, sir?" he had exclaimed, voicing the +hospitality due to his master's guest. "What hurry is there at all--so +long as it brought you safe?" + +"True for you, Tim!" the porter had interjected softly; and seizing +Milbanke's arm, he had swung him into the trap, precisely as he had +swung the luggage a few seconds previously. + +"Thank you, sir!" he had murmured a moment later. "Good-night to you! +Good-night, Tim! Safe road!" And, drawing back, he had looked on with +admiration while Burke had gathered up the reins and the mare had +plunged forward into the misty, sea-scented night. + +That had been Milbanke's first introduction into the district where he +proposed to spend a week with a man he had not seen for nearly thirty +years. + +As the trap moved forward, leaving the straggling town with its +scattered lights far behind, his thoughts--temporarily distracted by +the incidents of his arrival--reverted to the channel in which they had +run during the greater part of the day. Again his mind returned to the +period of his college career when, as a quiet student, he had been +drawn by the subtle attraction of contrast into a friendship with Denis +Asshlin--the young Irishman whose spirit, whose enthusiasms, whose +exuberant joy in life had shone in such vivid colours beside his own +neutral-tinted personality. His thoughts passed methodically from those +eager, early days to the more sober ones that had followed Asshlin's +recall to Ireland, and thence onward over the succeeding tale of years. +He reviewed his own calm, if somewhat lonely, manhood; his aimless +delving first into one branch of learning, then into another; his +gradually dawning interest in the study of archaeology--an interest +that, fostered by ample leisure and ample means, had become the +temperate and well-ordered passion of his life. The retrospect was +pleasant. There is always an agreeable sensation to a man of Milbanke's +temperament in looking back upon unruffled times. He became oblivious +of the ruts in the road and of the mare's erratic movements as he +traced the course of events to the point where, two months before, the +discovery of a dozen gold platters and as many drinking vessels, +embedded in a bog in the County Tyrone, had turned the eyes of the +archaeological world upon Ireland; and he, with other students of +antiquity, had been bitten with the desire to see the unique and +priceless objects for himself. + +The journey to Tyrone had been a pleasant experience; and it was there, +under the mild exaltation of the genuine find, that it had suddenly +been suggested to his mind that certain ancient ruins, including a +remarkable specimen of the Irish round tower, were to be found on the +south-east coast not three miles from the property of his old college +friend. + +Whether it was the archaeological instinct to resurrect the past, or +the merely human wish to re-live his own small portion of it, that had +prompted him to write to Asshlin must remain an open question. It is +sufficient that the letter was written and dispatched and that the +answer came in hot haste. + +It had reached him in the form of a telegram running as follows: "Come +at once, and stay for a year. Stagnating to death in this isolation. +Asshlin." An hour later another, and a more voluminous message, had +followed, in which--as if by an after-thought--he had been given the +necessary directions as to the means of reaching Orristown. + +It was at the point where his musings reached Asshlin's telegrams that +he awakened from his reverie and looked about him. For the first time a +personal interest in the country through which he was passing stirred +him. He realised that the salt sting of the sea had again begun to +mingle with the night mist, and judged thereby that the road had again +emerged upon the coast. He noticed that the hedges had become sparser; +that wherever a tree loomed out of the dusk it bore the mark of the sea +gales in a certain grotesqueness of shape. + +This was the isolation of which Asshlin had spoken! + +With an impulse extremely uncommon to him, he turned in his seat and +addressed the silent old coachman beside him. + +"Has your master altered much in thirty years?" he asked. + +There was silence for a while. Old Burke, with the deliberation of his +class, liked to weigh his words before giving them utterance. + +"Is it Mister Dinis changed?" he repeated at last. Then almost +immediately he corrected himself. "Sure, 'tis Mister Asshlin I ought to +be sayin', sir. But the ould name slips out. Though the poor master is +gone these twenty-nine year--the Lord have mercy on him!--I can niver +git it into me head that 'tis to Mister Dinis we ought to be lookin'." + +More than once during his brief stay in Ireland, Milbanke had been +confronted with this annihilation of time in the Irish mind, and +Burke's statement aroused no surprise. + +"Has he changed?" he asked again in his dry, precise voice. + +Burke was silent while the mare pulled hard on the reins. And having +regained his mastery over her, he looked down on his companion. + +"Is it changed?" he said. "Sure, why wouldn't he be changed? With the +father gone--an' the wife gone--an' the children growin' up. Sure 'tis +changed we all are, an' goin' down the hill fast--God help us!" + +Milbanke glanced up sharply. + +"Children?" he said. "Children?" + +Burke turned in his seat. + +"Sure 'tisn't to have the ould stock die out you'd be wantin'?" he +said. "You'd travel the round of the county before you'd see the like +of Mister Dinis's children--though 'tis girls they are." + +"Girls?" Milbanke's mind was disturbed by the thought of children. +Denis Asshlin with children! The idea was incongruous. + +"Two of 'em!" said Burke laconically. + +"Dear me!--dear me! And yet I suppose it's only natural. How old are +they?" + +Burke flicked the mare lightly, and the trap lurched forward. + +"Miss Clodagh is turned fifteen," he said, "and the youngster is goin' +on ten. 'Twas ten year back, come next December, that she was born. +Sure I remimber it well. An' six weeks after, Mister Dinis was +followin' her poor mother to the churchyard beyant in Carrigmore. The +Lord keep us all! 'Twas she was the nice, quiet creature, and Miss +Nance is the livin' stamp of her. But God bless us, 'tis Miss Clodagh +that's her father's child." He added this last remark with a force that +at the time conveyed nothing, though it was destined to recur later to +Milbanke's mind. + +"But your master?" the stranger repeated. The momentary diversion of +the children had ceased to hold him. Again the vision of +Asshlin--Asshlin the impetuous hero of past days--had risen intangible, +mirage-like and yet compelling from his native stretch of rugged +country. + +But Burke made no reply. All his energies were directed to the guiding +of the mare down a steep incline. For a space Milbanke was conscious of +a dangerously accelerated pace; then the white piers of a large gate +sped past them, and he was aware of the black shadow of overhanging +trees. + +Something unusual, something faintly prophetic and only vaguely +comprehended, touched his prosaic nature at that moment. He was +entering on a new phase of life. Without conscious preparation he was +to see the world from a new point of view. With a fresh spur of anxious +curiosity, he turned again to Burke. + +"But your master?" he asked. "Has he changed much? Will I see a great +alteration?" + +For an added space the old man remained mute, while he piloted the trap +up the sweep of avenue, with that irresistible desire for a fine finish +that animates every Irish driver. Then, as they spun round the final +curve, as the great square house loomed out of the mist, he replied +without slackening his vigilance. + +"Is it changed?" he repeated half to himself. "Sure, if the Almighty +doesn't change a man in thirty year, it stands to rason that the divil +must." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +To English ears the reply was curious. Yet with all its vagueness, all +its racial inclination towards high colour, it held the germ of truth +that frequently lies in such utterances. With native acuteness it threw +out a suggestion, without betraying a confidence. + +An instant after it was spoken, there was a final flourish of the whip, +a scrape of wheels on the wet gravel, a straining and creaking of damp +leather, and the trap drew up before the big white house. Milbanke +caught a fleeting suggestion of a shabby door with pillars on which +rested a square balcony of rusty iron, a number of unlighted windows, a +general air of grandeur and decay curiously blended. Then the hall door +opened, and a voice, whose first note roused a hundred memories, rolled +out across the darkness. + +"Is that you, James? Come in!--come in! Keep the mare in hand, Burke. +Steady, now, James! Let me hold the rug and give you a hand down. She's +a little rogue, and might be making a bolt for her stable. Well, you're +as welcome as the flowers in May! Come in!--come in!" + +It was over in a flash--the arrival, the tempestuous greeting, the hard +grip of Asshlin's hand; and the two men were facing each other in the +candle-lit hall. + +"Well, you're welcome, James!" Asshlin repeated. "You're welcome! Let +me have a look at you. I declare it's younger you are!" + +He laid his hand heavily on the other's shoulder, and uttered this +obvious untruth with all the warmth and conviction that Irish +imagination and Irish hospitality could suggest. + +"But you're perished after the long drive! Burke!" he called through +the open door. "Burke, when you're done with the mare come round and +carry up Mr. Milbanke's baggage. Now, James!" He wheeled round again, +catching up a silver candlestick from the hall table. "Now, if you come +upstairs, I'll show you where we're going to billet you." + +With long, hasty steps he crossed the hall, his tall figure casting +gaunt shadows on the bare and lofty wall. + +"We're a trifle unsophisticated here," he went on with a loud, hard +laugh. "But at least we'll give you enough to eat and a bed to lie on. +After all, a decent dinner and a warm welcome are the bone and sinew of +hospitality the world over. Unless they include a drop of something to +put life into a man----" + +He paused, turning round upon his guest. + +"By Jupiter, that reminds me! Have a small drink before we go another +step, just to take the cold out of you?" + +Milbanke, who was close behind him, glanced up. He saw his host's face +more clearly than he had seen it in the hall. His answer when it came +was hurried and a little confused. + +"No, Denis. No," he said. "Nothing; nothing, I assure you." + +Asshlin laughed again. + +"Still the same stickler?" he said. "How virtues cling to a man!" + +He turned and began to mount the stairs. Then, reaching the first door +on the wide corridor, he paused. + +"Here's your habitation," he said. "Burke will bring up your belongings +and get you whatever you want. We dine in a quarter of an hour." + +He nodded; and was turning away, when a fresh thought struck him. + +"You may as well take this candle," he said; "we haven't arrived at the +civilisation of gas. You might stumble over something, looking for the +matches. This is practically a bachelor establishment, you +know--without any bachelor comforts." + +Once more he laughed; and, thrusting the candle into his guest's hand, +hurried away across the landing. + +In silence Milbanke took the candle and, holding it uncertainly, waited +until his host had disappeared. Then slowly he turned and entered the +large, bare bedroom. For a moment he hesitated, his eyes wandering from +the faded window-hangings to the stiff, old-fashioned furniture. +Finally, laying aside the candlestick, he sat down upon the side of the +forbidding-looking four-post bedstead. + +What motive prompted him to the action he could scarcely have defined. +He was strangely moved by the scene just gone through--stirred in a +manner he could never have anticipated. For the moment the precise, +matter-of-fact archaeologist was submerged; and the man--dry, narrow, +pedantic perhaps, but nevertheless capable of human sentiments--was +uppermost. The sight of Asshlin, the sound of his voice, and the touch +of his hand had possessed an alchemy all their own. The past, that +years of separation had dimmed and tarnished, had gleamed out from the +shadows and taken shape before his eyes. The influence, the fascination +that Asshlin had once exercised, had touched him again at the first +contact of personalities. But it was an altered fascination. The alloy +of doubt and apprehension had tainted the old feeling. The question he +had been prompted to ask Burke had answered itself at the first glimpse +of his host's face. Indisputably, unmistakably, Asshlin had changed. + +And in what lay that change? That was the question he put to himself as +he sat on the bed, unconsciously noting the long, wavering flicker of +the candle-flame against the faded wall-paper. He had aged; but the +change did not lie with age alone. Something more relentless and more +corroding than time had drawn the worn, discontented lines about the +mouth, kindled the unnatural, restless glitter in the eyes, and changed +the note of the voice from spontaneous vitality to recklessness. The +change lay deeper; it lay in the heart and the soul of the man himself. + +With a sensation of doubt--of puzzled doubt and inexplicable +disappointment--he rose, crossed the room, and, drawing the curtains +over the windows, shut out the dark, damp night. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was nearly three-quarters of an hour later that a tremendous bell, +clanging through the house, announced that dinner had been served. + +A wash, a change of clothes, and a half-hour of solitude had done much +for Milbanke. He felt more normal, less alienated by unfamiliar +surroundings than he had done in the first confused moments that had +followed his arrival. The vague sense of disappointment and +apprehension, the vague suspicion that Asshlin had undergone an immense +alteration still tormented him--as half-apprehended evils ever torment +the minds of those who see and study life as a thing apart from human +nature; but the immediate effect of the feeling was less poignant. He +unconsciously found himself anticipating the next glimpse of his old +friend with a touch of curiosity; and when the announcement of dinner +broke in upon his meditations, he was surprised at the readiness with +which he obeyed the summons. + +His first sight of the dining-room came pleasantly to his senses, +numbed by the long drive and the bare coldness of his bedroom. It was +large and lofty: three long curtained windows occupied one of its +walls, while from the others numerous pictures of the dead-and-gone +Asshlins looked out of their canvases from tarnished gold frames; the +mahogany furniture, though of an ugly and ungainly type, was massive; +and over the whole room, softening its severity and hiding the ravages +of time, lay the warm red glow of a huge peat fire and the radiance of +a dozen candles set in heavy silver sconces. + +He stood for a moment in the doorway, agreeably conscious of the +mingled shadow and light; then his attention was attracted to two +figures already occupying the room. + +Asshlin himself was standing by the hearth, his back to the fire, his +feet apart, while by his side, in evident nervous embarrassment; stood +a little girl of nine or ten. Instantly he saw his guest, Asshlin put +his hand on the child's shoulder and pushed her forward. + +"Here's the youngest shoot on the old tree, James!" he cried with a +laugh. "Shake hands with him, Nance!" + +Somewhat uncertainly and very shyly the child looked up and smiled. She +was extremely pretty, with a gipsy-like prettiness new to Milbanke. The +only attribute she had inherited from her father's family was the clear +olive skin--that distinguished all the Asshlins. Her dark brown hair, +her deep blue eyes, her peculiarly winning smile, had all come to her +from her dead mother. + +With an embarrassment almost equal to her own, Milbanke extended his +hand. The average modern child he ignored with comfortable superiority, +but this small girl, with her warm smile and her overwhelming shyness, +was something infinitely more different to deal with. He shifted his +position uneasily. + +"How d'you do?" he hazarded. "How d'you do--Nance?" + +The little brown fingers stirred nervously in his clasp, and the child, +still smiling, made some totally unintelligible reply. + +With a boisterous laugh, Asshlin ended the situation. + +"Easily known you're not a father, James!" he cried. "Why, you'd have +given her a kiss and clinched the business fifty seconds ago. But +you're starving. Where's that scamp Clo?" + +He turned again to the little girl who had drawn nearer to him for +protection. + +She replied, but in so low a tone that Milbanke heard nothing. A moment +later he was enlightened by Asshlin's loud voice. + +"Did you ever hear of a thing like that, James?" he exclaimed. "What +would you say to a daughter who rides races on the strand in the dark +of an October evening, with the mist enough to give your horses their +death? 'Pon my word----" His face reddened; then suddenly he paused and +laughed. "After all, what's bred in the bone--eh, James?" he said. "I +believe I'd have done the same myself at fifteen--maybe worse." + +He checked himself, laughed again; then sighed. But catching Milbanke's +eye, he threw off the momentary depression, and turned once more to +Nance. + +"Tell Hannah we won't wait any longer, like a good child!" he said. +"There's no counting on that scallywag." + +As the child went quickly to the door he motioned Milbanke to the +table, and took his own place at its head. + +"No ceremony here," he said. "This is Liberty Hall." + +Taking up a decanter, he poured some sherry into his friend's glass; +then, filling his own, drank the wine with evident satisfaction. + +"Gradual decay is what we're suffering from here, James," he went on. +"Everything in this country is too damned old. The only things in this +house that have stood it are the wine and the silver. The rest--the +woodwork, myself, and the linen--are unsound, as you see." + +He laughed again with a shade of sarcasm, and pointed to where a large +hole in the damask table-cloth was only partially concealed by a +splendid salt-cellar of Irish silver. + +"Accumulated time is the disease we're suffering from. 'Tisn't the man +who uses his time in this country, but the man who kills it who's +mastered the art of living. Oh, we're a wonderful people, James!" + +He slowly drained and slowly refilled his glass. + +As he laid down the decanter, the door opened and Nance appeared and +quietly took her place at table. Almost immediately she was followed by +Burke in a black coat and wearing a clean collar. + +For a second Milbanke marvelled at the domestic arrangements that could +compress a valet, a butler, and a coachman into one easy-going +personality; the next, his attention was directed to two enormous +dishes which were placed respectively before his host and himself. + +"Just hermit's fare, James--the product of the land!" Asshlin +exclaimed, as Burke uncovered the first dish, revealing a gigantic +turkey. "Will you cut yourself a shaving of ham?" + +With a passing sense of impotence Milbanke gazed at the great, +glistening ham; then the healthy appetite that exposure to the sea air +had aroused, lent him courage, and he picked up a carving knife. + +But the execution of the ham was destined to postponement. Scarcely had +he straightened himself to the task, than a quick bang of the outer +door was followed by hasty steps across the hall, and the last member +of the household appeared upon the scene. + +Almost before he saw her, Milbanke was conscious of her voice--high and +clear with youthful vitality, softened and rendered piquant by native +intonation. + +"Oh, father, such a gallop! Such fun! And I won. The bay cob was +nowhere beside Polly. Larry was mad!" + +The string of words was poured forth in irresistible excitement before +she had reached the door. Once inside, she paused abruptly--her whole +animated face flushing. + +"Oh, I forgot!" she said in sudden naive dismay. + +She made a quaint picture as she stood there in the light of the +candles and the fire--her slight, immature figure arrayed in a worn and +old-fashioned riding habit, her hair covered by a boy's cloth cap, her +fingers clasping one of her father's heavy hunting crops. But it was +neither dress nor attitude that drew Milbanke's eyes from the task +before him--that incontinently sent his mind back thirty years to the +days when Denis Asshlin had seemed to stand on the threshold of life +and look forth, as by Right Divine, upon the pageant of the future. +There was little physical likeness between the girl brimming with youth +and vitality and the hard, prematurely-aged man sitting at the head of +the table; but the blood that glowed in the warm olive skin, the spirit +that danced and gleamed in the hazel eyes, was the same blood and the +same spirit that had captivated Milbanke more than a quarter of a +century before. + +The unlooked-for sensation held him spell-bound. But almost rudely the +spell was broken. Scarcely had Clodagh's exclamation of dismay escaped +her, than Asshlin broke into one of his boisterous laughs. + +"Forgot, did you?" he cried. "Well, 'twas like you. Come here!" + +He put out his hand, and as he did so, a sudden expression of pride and +affection softened his hard face. + +"Here's the wildest scapegrace of an Asshlin you've met yet, James," he +said. + +"Shake hands with him, Clo!" he added in a different voice. "He's a +symbol, if you only knew it. He stands for the great glory we must all +leave behind us. The glory of youth!" His voice sank suddenly to a +lower key, and he raised his glass. "Go on, child!" he added more +quickly. "Shake hands with him; tell him he's welcome." + +But Clodagh's flow of speech had been silenced. With a suggestion of +the shyness that marked her sister, she came round the table as +Milbanke rose. + +She made no remark as she proffered her hand, and she did not smile as +Nance had done. Instead, her bright eyes scanned his face with a quick, +questioning interest. + +In return, he looked at her clear skin, her level eyebrows and proudly +held head; and his awkwardness vanished as he took the slight muscular +hand still cold from the night mist. + +"How d'you do?" he said. "I've been hearing of you." + +Again Clodagh coloured, and glanced at her father. + +"What were you telling him, father?" she asked with native curiosity. + +Once more Asshlin laughed loudly. + +"Listen to her, James," he said banteringly. "Her conscience is +troubling her. She knows that it's hard to speak well of her. Isn't +that it, scamp? Confess now!" + +Clodagh had again passed round the table; and, having thrown her whip +and cap into a chair, had seated herself without ceremony in the vacant +place that awaited her. + +"Indeed it isn't!" she replied with immense unconcern. But an instant +later she repeated her question. + +"What was it, father? Can't you tell me?" + +Asshlin lifted his glass and studied the light through his sherry. + +"Ah now, listen to her, James!" he exclaimed again delightedly. "And +women will tell you they aren't inquisitive." + +Clodagh flushed. + +The little sister, seeing the flush, was suddenly moved to assert +herself. + +"'Twasn't anything, Clo," she said quickly. "He only said you were a +scallywag." + +Then, as all eyes turned in her direction, she subsided abruptly into +confused silence. + +"There you are again, James! Look at the way they stick together. A +poor man hasn't the ghost of a chance when two of them join forces. One +of them ought to have been a boy--if only for the sake of equality." + +He shook his head and laughed afresh, while Burke deposited the last +plate upon the table, and dinner began in earnest. + +That dinner, like his drive from Muskeere, was an experience to +Milbanke. More than once his eyes travelled involuntarily from the +candle-lit table, with its suggestion of another and an earlier era, to +the high walls where the fire cast long shafts of ruddy light and long +tongues of shadow upon Asshlin's ancestors, painted in garments of silk +and lace that had once found a setting in this same sombre room. There +was something strangely analogous in these dead men and women and their +living representatives. The thought recurred to him again and again, as +he yielded to the pleasant influences of good wine and wholesome food +pressed upon him with unceasing hospitality. It was not the first time +he had pandered to his taste for past things by comparing a man with +his forefathers, but the result had never proved quite so profitable. +In their uncommon setting, Asshlin and his children would have appealed +to the most unobservant as uncommon types; viewed by the eyes of a +student, they became something more; they became types of an uncommon +race--of an uncommon class. + +With the spur of the old fascination and the goad of the new-born +misgiving, he glanced again and yet again from his host's hard, +handsome features to the pictures, from the pictures to the +warm-coloured faces of the children. The study was absorbing. It +supplied him with an agreeable undercurrent of interest while the ham +and turkey were removed, and Asshlin, with much dexterity, distributed +portions of an immense apple-pie, deluged in cream; it still occupied +his mind when--cheese having been placed upon the table and partaken +of--Burke proceeded to remove the cloth. + +At the moment that the polished surface of the table was laid bare, his +glance, temporarily distracted from its study of the nearer pictures, +was attracted and arrested by one portrait, that hung in partial shadow +above the carved chimneypiece. It was the picture of a tall, slight boy +of sixteen or seventeen years, dressed in the black satin knee +breeches, the diamond shoe buckles, and powdered queue of a past +generation. + +Something in the pose of this painted figure, something in the youthful +face, caught and held his attention. In unconscious scrutiny, he leant +forward to study the shadowed features; then Asshlin, suddenly aware of +his interest, leant across the table. + +"That was what I meant, James, by saying one of them should have been a +boy," he said sharply. "Haven't I justification?" + +He nodded half earnestly, half in malicious humour towards the picture +above the fire. + +For a moment Milbanke was at a loss; then all at once he comprehended +his host's meaning. His gaze dropped from the picture to Clodagh, +sitting below it. Above the dark riding habit and above the satin coat, +it seemed that the same olive skin, the same level eyebrows and clear +hazel eyes confronted him. + +"I see!" he said quietly. "I see! A very peculiar case of family +likeness." + +He spoke affably, casually, in all innocence; but scarcely had the +words left his lips than he precipitately wished them back. With a loud +laugh, Asshlin struck the table with his hand. + +"Ah, good!" he exclaimed. "Good! Now, Clo, what have you got to say?" + +But with a gesture quite as vehement as his own, the girl raised her +head. + +"I say that it's not true," she said. "It isn't true. I'm not like +him." + +She glanced from her father to Milbanke with suddenly kindling eyes. + +"I'm not like him!" she repeated. "I won't be like him!" + +Asshlin leant back quickly in his chair. He was still laughing, but a +shade of temper was audible in the laugh. + +"Do you hear that, James?" he said. "We of the present generation are +altogether too good for the past. A slip of a girl nowadays thinks +herself vastly superior to a great-great-grandfather who was the finest +horseman and the most open-handed man in Munster. That's the attitude +of to-day." + +He moved aside, as Burke re-entered the room and laid a decanter of +port and two glasses on the shining mahogany table. + +"My great-grandfather, Anthony Asshlin," he went on deliberately, "was +as fine a specimen of the Irish gentleman as ever lived--I don't care +who denies it. Have a glass of port, James? An appreciation of good +wine was the one thing he left his descendants." + +There was an awkward silence while he filled the two glasses and pushed +one towards his guest. + +But Milbanke's ease of mind had already been upset. He held no key to +the disconcerting situation; and it puzzled and perplexed him, as his +first impression of his old friend had done. Both possessed elements +that he vaguely knew to be hidden from his sight--out of focus from his +present point of view. For a space he sat warily fingering his glass, +but making no attempt to drink. Without openly seeming to observe it, +he was conscious of Asshlin's half-humorous, half-aggressive mood; of +the nervous attitude of the younger girl, and of Clodagh's flushed +face. + +To a newly arrived guest, the position was strained. With growing +embarrassment he glanced from the rich, dark wine in his glass to its +reflection in the polished surface of the table. Finally the +awkwardness of the prolonged silence moved him to speech. + +"A great-grandfather who was a judge of wine is always worthy of +consideration," he murmured amiably, as he lifted the glass to his +lips. "I'm afraid mine was a teetotaller." + +But his feeble attempt at humour was not destined to be successful. It +drew a laugh from his host, but it was a laugh that found no echo. + +"You're right, James!" Asshlin cried. "By Jupiter, you're right! +Anthony Asshlin was the finest man in the county--and I'm proud of +him." + +"He was the worst man in the county--and the greatest fool!" + +The words, so sudden and unexpected, came from Clodagh. For several +seconds she had been sitting absolutely still; but now she lifted her +head again, her flushed face glowing, her bright eyes alight with the +quick enthusiasm, the hot temper that she had inherited from her race. +With a swift movement she turned from her father to Milbanke. + +"Do you think it great to be a fool--and a gambler?" she demanded. + +Asshlin set down his glass noisily. + +"Anthony Asshlin was no gambler," he said. "He was a sportsman." + +Clodagh's lip curled. + +"A sportsman!" she exclaimed. "Is it sport to keep game-cocks, to play +cards, and throw dice? To squander money that belongs to other people? +To mortgage your property and to--to--to kill your brother?" + +The last words burst from her impetuously, impulsively; then suddenly +she paused, shocked by her own daring. + +The silence that followed was short. With an equal impetuosity, Asshlin +pushed back his chair and rose. + +"By Gad, Clo, that's going too far!" he cried. "I'll not hear my +great-grandfather called a murderer." + +"All the same, he killed his brother." + +"In a duel. Gentlemen had to fight in those days." + +"Because of cards! Because they quarrelled over cards!" + +Then, with a fresh change of expression, she appealed again to +Milbanke. + +"Do you think that's sport?" she asked. "To get no good out of ordinary +things? To get no pleasure out of dogs or horses except the pleasure of +making them fight or race so that you can bet on the one you think +best?" + +She stopped breathlessly; and Milbanke, desperately at a loss, gazed +from one angry, excited face to the other. But he was saved the trouble +of finding an answer; for immediately Clodagh ceased to speak, +Asshlin's loud laugh broke in again. + +"Bravo!" he cried boisterously. "All the eloquence and all the lack of +logic of your sex! But don't put those propositions to Milbanke; put +them to yourself when you've reached his age. If you can't tell at +fifty-five why poor human creatures play and kill and make fools of +themselves, you'll have been a very lucky woman." + +For an instant his voice dropped, the despondency, the restless ennui +that Milbanke had previously noticed falling like a brief shadow over +his anger. But the lapse was brief. With another laugh and a shrug of +the shoulders, he turned suddenly, and, crossing the room, opened the +door. + +"Burke!" he called loudly across the hall. "Burke, bring more candles +and another bottle of port--and the cards!" + +At the words Clodagh rose. + +"Father!" she exclaimed below her breath. Then her voice faltered. The +involuntary note of protest and appeal was checked by some other +emotion. With a swift movement she crossed the hearth, picked up her +whip and cap, and, without another glance or word, walked out of the +room, followed noiselessly by Nance. + +Asshlin continued to stand by the door until the figures of his +children had disappeared; then he turned back into the room. + +"James," he said suddenly, "perhaps you don't think it, but one hair of +that child's head is more precious to me than life. She's an Asshlin to +the tips of her fingers. She's the whole race of us in one. The very +way she repudiates us is proof enough for any man. I tell you the whole +lot of us--lock, stock, and barrel--are looking at you out of her +eyes." + +Again he paused; then again he shook off his passing seriousness with +nervous excitability, reseating himself at the table, as Burke entered. + +"Ah, here we are!" he cried. "Here we are! Come along, Burke, and show +the light of heaven to us. Now, James, for any stakes you like--and at +any game! What shall it be? Piquet? Or will we say Euchre, for the sake +of the days that are dead and gone? Very well. Euchre let it be--for +any stakes you like. It's the land of beggars, but, by Gad, you'll +find us game? Pass me your glass for another taste of port." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The unpleasant sensation of moving in the dark remained with Milbanke +while Asshlin, still noisily excited, arranged the stakes, cut for the +deal, and, having won the cut, distributed the cards. By nature he was +lethargic and placid; by habit he was precise, methodical, and +commonplace. The advent into this new atmosphere, with its inexplicable +suggestions and volcanic outbursts, left him distressed and ill at +ease. He was the type of man who, in every relation of life, likes to +know exactly where he stands. Having once satisfied himself upon that +point, he was usually content to follow the routine of existence +without trouble to those around him; but until it was fully defined, he +was a prey to a vague uneasiness. + +So absorbed was he by the trend of his own speculations, that for the +first five games he gave but small consideration to the play. Then, +however, his host jogged his attention with no uncertain hand. + +Pausing in the shuffling of the cards, he glanced across the table. + +"You're playing like an old woman, James. Are your wits wool-gathering, +that you've let me win every blessed game?" + +Milbanke looked up. "Forgive me," he said hastily--"forgive me. I was +thinking----" + +"--Thinking that a broken-down devil of an Irishman isn't high enough +game to fly at?" Asshlin laughed. "Well, I'll put some life into you. +I'll double the stakes. What do you say to that?" + +He leant back in his chair, balancing the pack of cards in his hands. + +Milbanke, with suddenly awakened observation, saw that his eyes +glittered with excitement and that his lips were set. + +"Double the stakes?" he echoed doubtfully. "Oh, certainly if you think +it will improve the game. For myself I rarely play for money! I always +think that the cards----" + +"--Are sufficient in themselves, I suppose?" Asshlin laughed. "Don't +you believe it, James? Or if you do, I'll teach you better. Come along! +In for a penny, in for a pound! Are you agreeable?" + +For a moment Milbanke was thoughtful; then he became conscious of the +other's impatient glance. + +"Why--why certainly," he said. "Anything you like!" + +"Spoken like a man!" Asshlin impulsively threw down the cards, and then +gathered them up again. "I see the embalming process isn't completed +yet. The antiquarians have left a shred or two of frail humanity in +you. Well, we'll have it out. We'll put an edge on it. Come along!" He +leant forward, the reckless brightness deepening in his eyes. + +But Milbanke hesitated. + +"Hadn't we better settle up the first score and start afresh?" he said. +"How do we stand?" + +He put his hand into his pocket. But the other waived the point. + +"Is it paying at this hour of the night?" he cried. "Give me a pencil, +and I'll jot down our difference, if you're conscientious. But the +balance will be on the other side before the candles are burned out. +The devil forgot to bring luck to the Asshlins since poor Anthony went +below. But come along, man!--come along! Here's to the youth of us!" + +He drained his glass; and turned again to the business of the cards. + +During the next half-dozen games neither spoke. With deep absorption, +Asshlin followed the run of the cards. Once or twice an exclamation +escaped him; once or twice he paused to replenish Milbanke's glass or +his own; but in every other respect he had eyes and thoughts for +nothing but the business in hand. Milbanke, on the contrary--gambler +neither by instinct nor training--was infinitely more interested in his +opponent than in the play. + +As he watched Asshlin, a score of recollections rose to his +mind--recollections that time and advancing age had all but effaced. He +recalled the numberless occasions upon which the Irishman, in the +exuberance of youth, had sat over a gaming-table until the daylight had +streamed in across the scattered cards, the heaped-up cigar-ashes and +the emptied glasses; he reviewed the rare occasions on which his +cajoleries had drawn him from his own mild pursuits to be a sharer in +these prolonged revels; and with the memory came the thought of the +headache, the sick sense of weariness that had invariably lain in wait +for him the following morning. A wondering admiration for Asshlin had +always held a place in these jaded after-sensations--a species of +hero-worship for one who could turn into bed at four in the morning and +emerge at nine with all the vigour and vitality of the most virtuous +sleeper. He had never fully realised that to men of Asshlin's stamp +dissipation, excitement, and action are potent stimulants, calling +forth all the superfluous nervous energy that by nature they possess. +While the tide of life runs high about such men, they are borne +forward, buoyed up by their own capacity for living and enjoying. To +them, existence at high pressure is a glorious, exalted state, exempt +from satiety or fatigue; it is the quieter phases of existence--the +phases that to ordinary men mean rest, peace, domestic tranquillity and +domestic interests--that these exuberant, ardent human beings have +cause to dread. + +An hour went by, and still the idea of a past, curiously reflected and +curiously contradicted, absorbed Milbanke's perceptions. Then gradually +but decisively it was borne in upon his mind that his absorption was +blunting his common sense. He was playing execrably. + +It has been said that he was no gambler; but neither was he a fool. +With something of a shock he realised that he stood a loser to the +extent of seven or eight pounds. With the realisation he sat +straighter in his chair. It was not that he grudged the money. He +was generous--and could afford generosity. It was rather that that +admirable quality which urges the Englishman to play a losing game +was stirred within him. + +"By Jove, Denis!" he said. "I must look to my laurels! I used to play a +better game than this." + +Asshlin's only answer was a laugh--a laugh from which all the +bitterness had dropped away, leaving a buoyant ring of absorption and +delight. Under the stimulus of excitement, he had altered. He was +exalted, lifted above the petty discontent, the pessimism, the +despondency that tainted his empty days. + +And so for nearly two hours they played steadily; then Milbanke paused +and drew out his watch. + +"I don't know what sort of hours you keep in Ireland," he hazarded; +"but it's nearly twelve o'clock." + +Asshlin had paused to snuff one of the candles that had begun to +gutter. At the other's words, he glanced up in undisguised surprise. + +"Hours?" he repeated. "Why, any--or none at all. You don't know the +glory of having something to sit up for." He paused for a second in a +sort of ecstasy. "You don't know it; you can't know it! You have never +felt the abomination of desolation." + +He laughed feverishly and gathered up the cards afresh. + +"Come, James! Your deal!" + +And in this manner the night wore on. In the early stages of their play +Asshlin's luck stuck to him determinately; but by degrees his +opponent's more cautious and level play began to tell, and their +positions were gradually reversed. By one o'clock Milbanke had made +good his losses and even stood with some trifling amount to his +advantage. Here again he had mildly suggested a cessation; but Asshlin, +more intoxicated by bad than he had been by good fortune, had demanded +his revenge, and called loudly through the quiet house for more candles +and more wine. + +But with the fresh round of play, the luck remained unaltered. Milbanke +continued to win. + +With a sleepy face, but no expression of surprise, Burke responded to +his master's call, replenishing the light and setting the port upon the +table. But the players scarcely noticed his entrance or departure. +Asshlin was playing with desperate recklessness; and Milbanke, without +intent or consciousness, was slowly falling under the influence of his +companion's excitement. As minute succeeded minute and Asshlin sat +rigid in his seat--cutting, dealing, marking the result of each game +upon a strip of paper--the elder man became more and more the satellite +of thirty years ago, less and less the placid archaeologist for whom +the follies of the present lie overshadowed by the past. + +He forgot the long journey of the afternoon, the peculiar incidents of +his arrival. A slight flush rose to his usually bloodless cheeks; he +found himself watching the run of the cards with a species of reflected +eagerness, roused to an unaccustomed elation when the advantage fell to +him. + +At three o'clock they played the last round. And it was only then--when +the last card had been thrown on the table, and he had risen stiff from +long sitting, the winner of something like twenty pounds--that he +realised how completely he had been dominated by this resurrected +influence; dominated to the exclusion of personal prejudice and even +personal comfort. So strong was this impression of past influences that +he was roused to no surprise when, glancing at his companion, he saw +him temporarily rejuvenated--his expression alert, his whole face +vivified by the night's excitement. + +Again a touch of the old sympathy arose within him. The reckless, +cynical man before him was momentarily effaced; the bright personality +of long ago seemed to fill the room. + +"Good-night, Denis!" he said gently, holding out his hand. + +Asshlin caught it enthusiastically. + +"Good-night, James!--good-night! And once more a thousand welcomes and +a thousand thanks. You have been a drop of water in the desert to a +parching man. Good-night, and pleasant dreams to you! I'll reckon up my +losses in the morning and write you a cheque. Good-night!" + +Milbanke responded to the pressure of his fingers. + +"Don't trouble about the money," he said. "Any time will do--any time. +But you're turning in yourself? We'll be upstairs together?" + +But Asshlin shook his head. + +"Not yet," he said. "Not after this. I'll take a turn across the fields +and have a look at the night on the water. I feel too much awake to be +smothered by sheets and blankets. It isn't often we feel life here--and +the sensation is glorious." + +He drew up his tall, powerful figure and stretched out his arms. Then +almost at once he let them fall to his sides. + +"But what moonshine this is to you, you prosaic Saxon!" he exclaimed. +"Let me light you to bed." + +He laughed quickly; and, picking up one of the massive candlesticks, +moved towards the door. + +For an instant Milbanke lingered in the dining-room, grown dimmer with +the departing lights; then, hearing his name in his host's voice, he +hurried after him into the hall. + +Asshlin was standing at the foot of the stairs, the glowing candles +held aloft. Above him, the high ceiling loomed shadowy and indistinct; +behind him, the dark wainscoted wall threw his figure into bold relief. + +It would have demanded but a slight stretch of fancy to picture him as +his satin-coated great-grandfather grown to a dissipated maturity, as +he stood there, the master spirit in this house of fallen greatness. As +Milbanke reached his side, he laughed once more, precisely as Anthony +Asshlin might have laughed, standing at the foot of the same staircase +nearly a hundred years ago. The taint of heredity seemed to wrap him +round--to gleam in his unnaturally bright eyes, to reverberate in his +voice. + +"Up with you, James!" he cried. "I needn't put your hand on the +banister, like I have to do with some of my guests. You never yet drank +a swerve into your steps. Well, I don't blame you for it. It's men like +you that keep heaven a going concern, while poor devils like me are +paving the lower regions. Good-night to you!" + +With a fresh laugh he thrust the great candlestick into the other's +hand and turned on his heel. + +Milbanke remained motionless, while Asshlin passed across the hall and +opened the door, letting in a breath of fresh, damp air that set the +candle-flames dancing; then, as the door closed again, he turned and +put his hand on the banister. + +It was with a feeling of unreality, mingled with the borrowed +excitement still at work within him, that he began his ascent of the +stairs. The natural fatigue consequent on the day's journey had been +temporarily dispelled, and sleep seemed something distant and almost +unattractive. As he mounted the creaking steps, moving cautiously out +of consideration for the sleeping household, he found himself wishing +incontinently that he had offered his company to his host in his stroll +towards the sea. + +As the desire came to him, he paused. He could still overtake Asshlin! +He hesitated, glancing from the closed door of his bedroom to the hall +lying below him in a well of shadow. Then suddenly he raised his head, +attracted by a sound, subdued and yet distinct, that came to him +through the silence of the house--the sound of light, hasty steps on an +uncarpeted corridor. + +In the wave of surprise that swept over him he forgot his recent +excitement, his recent wish for action and fresh air. Lifting the +candlestick above his head, he peered along the passage that stretched +away beyond his own door. But the scrutiny was momentary. Almost at +once he lowered the candles and drew back, as he recognised the figure +of Clodagh coming towards him out of the gloom. She was wearing a +flowing, old-fashioned dressing-gown of some flowered material; one +strand of her brown hair had been loosened, and fell across her +forehead, shadowing her eyes into something of the beauty they were yet +to wear. And as Milbanke looked at her, he realised with a stirring of +something like embarrassment, that a touch of promise, very gracious +and infinitely feminine, had replaced the first, half-boyish impression +that he had received of her. + +But if he felt embarrassment, it was evident that she was conscious of +none. As she came within a few yards of him she halted for an instant +to assure herself of his identity; then, her mind satisfied, she +stepped straight onward into the light of the six candles. + +"Oh, I'm so glad!" she said quickly. "I was afraid for a minute that it +was father. I've been waiting up for you," she added hastily. "I +couldn't go to sleep till I'd seen you." + +Milbanke was confused. Moved by an undefined impulse, he extinguished +three of the six candles. + +"Indeed!" he said. "But it's very late. You must--you must be tired." + +He glanced uncertainly round the landing, as if seeking a chair to +offer her. Then an idea struck him. + +"Will you come downstairs?" he suggested. "The fire is still alight in +the dining-room. You--you must be cold as well as tired." + +He looked hesitatingly at her light gown. + +But Clodagh shook her head. + +"We mustn't go down," she said. "He might come in and find us--and then +we'd have a row. He and I of course, I mean," she added politely. + +Then, as if impatient of the preamble, she plunged into the subject she +had at heart. + +"Mr. Milbanke," she said, "will you promise me not to--not to, after +to-night----?" + +Milbanke's face looked blank. + +"Not to what?" he asked. + +"Oh, not to encourage him--not to play with him. He's ruining himself +and ruining us all. Couldn't you guess it from dinner--from the quarrel +we had? Oh, he's so terribly foolish!" + +Her voice suddenly trembled. + +But he was labouring under the shock her revelation had given him. + +"Good heavens!" he stammered. "I had no idea--no idea of such a thing." + +"No; I know you hadn't--I was sure you hadn't." Her voice thrilled with +quick relief. + +"No, no. Certainly not. But tell me about it. Dear me!--dear me! I had +no idea of such a thing." + +"Oh, it began ages ago--before mother died. Burke says 'twas the +life--the quiet life after England. He came home, you know, when his +father died, and he found the place in a bad way. He has never been +rich enough to live out of the country, and he has never stopped +fretting for the things that aren't here. But while mother lived he +kept pretty good; 'twas after she died that he seemed not to care. +First he got gloomy and sad, then he got reckless and terrible. People +were frightened of him. His friends began to drop away." + +She paused for a moment, glancing down into the hall to assure herself +that all was quiet. + +"It's been the same ever since. Sometimes he's gloomy and depressed, +other times he's wild, like to-night. And when he's wild, he's mad for +cards. Oh, you don't know what it's like! It's like being a +drunkard--only different--and worse. When he's like that, he'd play +with any one--for anything. Last week he had a dreadful man--a +horse-dealer from Muskeere--staying here with him for three days. They +played cards every night--played till three or four in the morning. +Father lost all the ready money in the house, and nearly emptied the +stables." + +Milbanke stood before her horrified and absorbed. An understanding of +many things, before obscure, had come to him while she was speaking; +and with the knowledge, a sudden deep pity for this child of his old +friend--a sudden sense of guilt at his own blindness, his own weakness. + +"Miss Clodagh," he said quickly, in his stiff, formal voice. Then he +paused, as she raised her hand with a sharp gesture of attention. + +A heavy step sounded on the gravel outside the house. There was an +instant's hesitation; then Clodagh leant forward with swift presence of +mind and blew out the three remaining candles. + +"You understand now?" she whispered. + +"Yes," he murmured, below his breath. "Yes; I understand." + +A moment later he heard her flit down the corridor, and heard Asshlin +open the heavy outer door. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Thus it was that James Milbanke entered on his first night at +Orristown. The surprise, the excitement, and the culminating incident +of the evening would have been disturbing to a man of even more placid +temperament; and rebel as he might against the weakness, he lay awake +considerably longer than was his wont in the uncomfortable, canopied +bed, listening to the numberless infinitesimal sounds that break the +silence of a sleeping house--from the faint, occasional cracking of the +furniture to the scurrying of a mouse behind the plaster of the walls. +Then gradually, as his ears became accustomed to these minor noises, +another sound, unnoticed in the activity of the earlier hours, obtruded +itself softly but persistently upon his consciousness--the subdued and +regular breaking of the sea on the rocks below the house. + +A slight sense of annoyance was his first feeling, for it was many +years since he had slept by the sea; then quietly, lingeringly, +soothingly the rhythmical persistence of the sound began to tell. +Imperceptibly the confusing ideas of the evening became pleasantly +indistinct--the numberless contradictory feelings blurred into one +delightful sensation of indifference and repose. With the salt, moist +air, borne to him through the open window, and the great untiring +lullaby of the ocean rising and falling upon his senses, like the +purring of a gigantic cat, he fell asleep. + +His first sensation upon waking the next morning was one of +pleasure--the placid, unquestioning satisfaction that comes to the +untroubled mind with the advent of a fine day. To his simple taste, the +sights and sounds that met his waking consciousness were possessed of +an unaccustomed charm. With daylight, the room that last night had held +grim and even ghostly suggestions, took on a more human and more +friendly air. The ancient mahogany furniture seemed anxious to reflect +the morning sunshine; the massive posts of the bed with their drapery +of faded repp no longer glowered upon the intruder. Each object was +bathed in, and rejuvenated by, the golden warmth, the incomparable +mellow radiance of sea and sky that flowed in at the open window. + +For a while he lay in contemplative enjoyment of this early, untainted +atmosphere, while the sounds of the awakening day gradually rose above +the soft beating of the outgoing tide--falling upon his ears in a +pleasant, primitive medley of clacking fowls, joyous, yelping dogs, and +stamping horses. For a space he lay still; then the inevitable wish to +take active part in this world created from the darkness and the +silence of the night aroused him; and, slipping out of bed, he drew on +a dressing-gown and walked to the window. + +The sight that met his eyes was one of infinite beauty. The +delicacy--the poetry--the subtle, unnameable charm that lie in the +hollow of Nature's hand were over land and sky and sea; the warmth and +wealth of summer stretched before him, but summer mellowed and softened +by a golden autumnal haze. + +There are more inspiring countries than Ireland--countries more richly +dowered in vegetation; countries more radiant in atmosphere and +brilliant in colouring: but there is no land where the Hand of the +Maker is more poignantly felt; where the mystic spirit of creation--the +wonderful, tender, pathetic sense of the Beginning--has been so +strangely preserved. As Milbanke stood at the open window, his eyes +travelled without interruption over the wide green fields--neither lawn +nor meadow--that spread from the house to the shore, owning no boundary +wall beyond the low, shelving rocks of red sandstone that rose a +natural barrier against the encroachments of the tide. And from the +fields his gaze wandered onward, drawn irresistibly and inevitably to +the sea itself--the watchful, tyrannical guardian of the silent land. + +It lay before him like a tremendous glassy lake, stretching in one +untroubled sweep from Orristown to the point, three miles away, where +the purple headland of Carrigmore completed the semicircle of the bay. +The silence, the majesty of that sweep of water was indescribable. From +the rim of yellow sand, which the indolent waves were lapping, to the +misted horizon, not one sign of human life marred the smoothness of its +surface. Across the bay at Carrigmore a few spirals of smoke rose from +the cluster of pink and white cottages lying under the shadow of the +Round Tower; on the long, sandy strand a couple of bare-legged boys +were leisurely raking up the sea-weed that the waves had left, and +slowly piling it on a waiting donkey butt; but the sea itself was +undisturbed. It lay as it might have lain on the first day of completed +creation--mystical, sublime, untouched. + +Milbanke was no poet, yet the scene impressed him. The extraordinary +sense of an inimitable and impenetrable peace before which man and +man's mere transitory concerns are dwarfed, if not entirely eliminated, +touched him vaguely. It was with a tinge of something bordering upon +reluctance that he at last drew his eyes from the picture and began to +dress. + +But once freed from the spell of the ocean, his mind reverted to the +other interests that lay closer at hand. He found himself wondering how +his entertainers would appear on a second inspection; whether, like his +room, they would take on a more commonplace semblance with the advent +of daylight. The touch of irrepressible and human curiosity that the +speculation aroused gave a spur to the business of dressing; and it was +well under the twenty minutes usually devoted to his neat and careful +toilet when he found himself crossing the corridor and descending the +stairs. + +He encountered no one as he passed through the hall; and catching a +fresh suggestion of sunshine through the door that stood hospitably +open, he paused for an instant to take a cursory glance at the +gravelled sweep that terminated the drive, and the grassy slope +surmounted by a fringe of beeches that formed the outlook from the +front of the house. Then he turned quickly, and, recrossing the hall, +passed into the dining-room. + +None of the household had yet appeared, but here also the daylight had +worked changes. + +The curtains were drawn back, permitting the view of fields and sea, +that he had already studied from his bedroom, to break uninterruptedly +through the three lofty windows. The effect was one of extreme airiness +and light; and it was quite a minute before his gaze turned to the +darker side of the room, where the portrait of the famous Anthony +Asshlin hung above the fire. + +Realising that he was alone in the big room, he crossed to the table +where breakfast was already laid--the remains of the enormous ham +rising from an untidy paper frill to defy the attacks of the largest +appetite. In the brilliance of the light, the fineness of the table +linen and its state of dilapidation were both accentuated, as was the +genuine beauty and intrinsic value of the badly kept silver. + +But Milbanke had no time to absorb these details, for instantly he +reached the table his eye was caught by a folded slip of paper lying by +his place. With a touch of surprise he stooped forward and picked it +up; then a wave of annoyance, almost of guilt, succeeded the surprise +as he realised that it was a cheque made out in Asshlin's straggling +handwriting for his losses of the night before. + +As he fingered it uncomfortably a vivid remembrance of his interview +with Clodagh rose to his mind. He thought of the poverty, suggested +rather than expressed by the girl's words; he thought of the Muskeere +horse-dealer who had all but emptied the stables. With a puckered brow +he studied his own name scrawled across the cheque; then, with a sense +of something like duplicity, he hurriedly pushed it under his plate as +he heard the hall door close, and footsteps sound across the hall. A +moment later Asshlin, followed by his two daughters, entered the room. + +All three greeted him in turn; then Asshlin crossed to the fire and +proceeded to stir it to a blaze, while Nance and Clodagh passed to +their appointed places. + +Both girls looked pleasantly in keeping with the fresh morning--their +rich, youthful colouring having nothing to fear from the searching +light. Nance was dressed in a very clean blue cotton frock that +accentuated the colour of her eyes; but Clodagh was again attired in +the old-fashioned riding-habit, though this time the boy's cap was +absent, and the sunshine caught reflections in her light brown hair. + +"I hope you don't mind my being dressed like this," she said, as she +took her seat. "I always have a ride in the mornings, and I generally +tidy up for breakfast; but I'm riding a race at ten with Larry--my +cousin, you know--so 'twouldn't be worth while to change to-day." + +She spoke quite naturally, encountering Milbanke's eyes with no +suggestion of embarrassment for last night's adventure. + +He met her glance for an instant; then his own wandered guiltily to the +corner of the cheque protruding from under his plate. + +"Not at all!" he said hurriedly--"not at all! I hope I may be permitted +to see the race." + +Clodagh smiled. + +"Of course--if you like," she said. "But it won't be much to look at." +She added this with a quick glance that ineffectually attempted to +gauge the guest's tastes and powers of appreciation. + +"'Twill be grand!" murmured Nance softly. "And I know who's going to +win." + +"Nonsense!" said Clodagh. "I won in the practice last night, but the +strand was wet, and the cob is only sure on hard ground." + +But nevertheless she flushed and threw a quick look of appreciation and +affection at her loyal little partisan. + +"What are you two chattering about?" said Asshlin, standing up from the +fire and straightening his shoulders. + +"Is that your notion of hospitality? To keep a stranger waiting for his +breakfast? Faith, we knew better in the old days--eh, James?" + +He laughed, and passed round the table. + +Clodagh presided at the old-fashioned silver urn; and either her +confidences of the night before or the prospect of her coming contest +affected her, for she forgot the diffidence that had marked her at the +dinner of the preceding evening, and talked brightly and with interest +on a variety of subjects. Finally, as she handed Milbanke his second +cup of tea, she touched upon the object of his visit. + +"'Twas to see the ruins at Carrigmore, not us, that you came, wasn't +it?" she said with a shade of humour. + +He returned her glance seriously. + +"Oh no," he said. "At least----" + +"Ah, now you've let it out!" she cried, with a laugh. "I knew it. I +said so. Didn't I, Nance? I knew no one would come here just to see +us." + +Asshlin laughed. + +"'Pon my soul!" he cried, "you haven't learned your market value yet, +Clo! If I were a girl, I'm hanged if I'd rate myself lower than a +fourth-century ruin." + +He laughed afresh. + +But Clodagh displayed no embarrassment. She was too unversed in the +ways of coquetry to see or resent the point of the remark. + +"I?" she said naively. "What have I to do with it?" + +After this there was a trifling silence, at the end of which, Asshlin +looked quickly at his guest. + +"By the way, James," he exclaimed, "we were too well amused last night +to look ahead. I never thought of asking you about to-day. Have you any +pet plans or schemes? Is it to be a pilgrimage to St. Galen? Or what do +you say to a day in the saddle? There's a meet not five miles away; and +if a good gallop pleases you, I have as neat a little horse for you as +ever carried a saddle. What do you say? Of course if you think the +Round Tower is likely to collapse or be demolished by a tidal wave, I +won't raise a finger; but----" + +Milbanke laughed. + +"My dear Denis," he said quickly, "don't you trouble on my account." He +glanced deprecatingly over Asshlin's sporting attire. "Don't you +trouble about me. I never was a sportsman, as you know. I'll go to my +own hunting, and you go to yours. Don't let me interfere with any plans +you may have formed. I enjoy a solitary excursion." + +But Asshlin's face darkened. + +"Oh no," he objected after a short pause--"oh no. If you're not game +for it, then the meet is off so far as I'm concerned. I can't have you +roaming about the country by yourself. Oh no; I hope I remember my +obligations." + +Milbanke looked distressed. With a genuine feeling of embarrassment he +turned from one face to the other. + +"My dear Denis," he objected feebly, "I must really beg of you----" + +"Not another word!--not another word!" Asshlin ostentatiously helped +himself to some ham, "I hope, James, that whatever our environments, we +still understand the traditions of hospitality. If you don't feel on +for it, there's no hunting for me to-day." + +After this there was another unpleasant pause. Asshlin attempted to +hide his chagrin, but his face was unmistakably dark with +disappointment. + +For a space Milbanke toyed with his breakfast, then he spoke again. + +"But, my dear Denis, if you will only allow me----" he ventured. + +But before Asshlin could reply, Clodagh's voice broke in. + +"Oh! you needn't bother so much, father," she said easily. "You go to +the meet, and I'll take Mr. Milbanke to Carrigmore. I'll drive him over +in the pony-trap, or we'll walk--whichever he likes best." + +She spoke fluently and gaily, and it was difficult for Milbanke to +reconcile the high, buoyant tones of her voice with the serious note +struck by her the night before. Filled with relief, however, at her +timely interruption, he was satisfied to let the discrepancy go +unregarded. + +"Excellent!" he cried--"an excellent idea, Miss Clodagh! Here's your +difficulty solved, Denis. Your Irish sense of chivalry won't allow you +to deprive me of so charming a guide." + +Clodagh laughed frankly at the stilted compliment, and Asshlin's face +brightened perceptibly. + +"Oh, well, as you're so amiable," he said magnanimously. "I don't mind +admitting that 'twould have been a bit of a sacrifice to give up the +hunt. Though if I hadn't been overruled by the majority, I'd have +swallowed the ruins without a grimace." + +He laughed with restored good-humour, and turned to his daughters. + +"When you've done breakfast, Clo," he said, "run round to the stables +and tell Burke he need only saddle the bay." + +With the decision that he was, after all, to enjoy his day's sport, his +spirits had risen; and despite the fact that the daylight revealed many +evidences of last night's dissipation that would have been invisible +thirty years ago, Milbanke was pleased and reassured by his appearance. +His movements were energetic, his expression alert. He suggested one +who is interested and attracted by life; and the elder man was too +unimaginative--too single of purpose in his own concerns--to suspect +that the energy, the suggestion of anticipation were due to his own +presence in the house, to the promise of excitement and diversion that +that presence offered. + +With the definite arrangement of the day's plans, a fresh energy had +descended on the party, and but a few minutes passed before Clodagh and +Nance rose from table and left the room. Then, as the two men were left +alone, Milbanke put into action the resolution that had been gradually +maturing in his mind. + +Not without a certain trepidation--not without an embarrassed distaste +for the task--he bent forward in his precise manner, and drawing the +cheque from beneath his plate, began to smooth it out. + +"Denis," he said, "I found this on my plate when I came downstairs----" + +Asshlin looked up hastily and laughed. He had all the Irishman's +distaste to money as a topic of conversation. He was as sensitive in +the offering of it to another, as in the accepting of it for himself. + +"Oh, that's all right!" he said quickly. "Not another word about that, +James--not another syllable." + +But Milbanke continued to finger the cheque. + +"Denis," he began again, a shade of nervousness audible in his voice, +"I am uncertain how to say what I want to say. I am extremely anxious +not to offend you, and yet I feel--I fear that you may take offence." + +Before replying, Asshlin drained the cup of strong tea that stood +beside his plate; then he glanced again at his companion. + +"What in thunder are you driving at?" he asked good-humouredly. + +Milbanke looked down. + +"That's what I want to explain," he answered without raising his head. +"And you must not allow it to offend you. I want you, for the sake of +old friendship, to let me tear this cheque up. I was excited last +night; I infringed on one of my set rules--that of never playing cards +for high stakes. It is for my own sake that I ask permission to do +this. It--it will put me right with myself." + +He laughed deprecatingly. + +For a second there was no indication that his laboured explanation had +been even heard; then, with alarming suddenness, Asshlin brought his +hand down upon the table, ripping out an oath. + +"And where the devil do I come in?" he demanded. "Is it because you see +the place going to rack and ruin that you think you can insult me in my +own house? I'd have you to know that when an Asshlin needs charity, he +will ask for it." In the spasm of rage that had attacked him, his eyes +blazed and the veins in his forehead swelled. Then, suddenly catching a +glimpse of the consternation on his guest's face, he controlled himself +by an effort, and with a loud laugh pushed back his chair and rose. +"Forgive me, James!" he said roughly. "You don't understand--you never +did understand. It's the cursed pride of a cursed country. The less we +have to be proud of, the more damned proud we are. We have a sense of +humour for everything in creation except ourselves." Again he laughed +harshly; then again his mood changed. "James," he said seriously, "put +that cheque in your pocket, and if you value my friendship, never +mention it again. We may be a bad lot; we may be all Clo says of +us--fools, rakes, spendthrifts; but no Asshlin ever shirked his debts +of honour." The words were bombastic, the sentiment false, but the +natural dignity and distinction of the man--dissipated failure though +he might be--were unmistakable, as he stood with high head and erect +figure. + +By the ironic injustice of such circumstances Milbanke--honest, +prosaic, incapable of a dishonourable action--felt suddenly humiliated. +With shame-faced haste he muttered an apology, and thrust the cheque +into his pocket. + +At the moment that he did so, Clodagh re-entered the room. + +"It's all right, father!" she exclaimed. "The bay will be round in a +second. And Larry has come. Are you ready, Mr. Milbanke?" + +He responded with instant alacrity. It was the second time that morning +that she had unconsciously come to his relief. + +"Oh! quite," he said--"quite ready. Shall we start?" + +"This minute, if you like. Good-bye, father! I hope 'twill be a good +run." She crossed the room quickly, then paused at the door. "Remember, +the race will be nothing at all worth seeing," she added, glancing back +over her shoulder at the guest. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Without ceremony or apology Clodagh led Milbanke to the stables by the +shortest route, which entailed the traversing of several long and windy +passages and the crossing of the great, draughty kitchen where Hannah, +the housekeeper, cook, and general mainstay of the establishment, held +undisputed sway. + +As they entered her domain, she was standing by an open window engaged +in the cleaning of a saucepan--an operation to which she brought an +astonishing amount of noisy energy. At sight of the stranger, she +dropped the knife she was holding, and made a furtive attempt to +straighten her ample and somewhat dirty apron. + +"Ah, wisha, Miss Clodagh," she began in a voice that trembled between +chagrin and an inherent sense of hospitality, "isn't that a quare thing +for you to be doin' now? To be bringin' the gintleman down here--an' me +in the middle of me pots? Not but what you're welcome, sir--though 'tis +no fit place for you," she added, with a glance that summed the +intruder up from head to heel. + +Milbanke laughed a little awkwardly. + +"So long as you make no objection," he said with amiable haste, "I see +nothing to find fault with." + +But Hannah gave an incredulous shake of her head. + +"Ah! you do be sayin' that," she replied sagely. "But 'tis a quare +place you'll be findin' Orristown after England." She added this in a +persuasive tone, making a tentative cast for the stranger's sentiments. + +But before the fish could rise to her bait, her attention was claimed +in another direction. A pellet of mud, aimed with extreme accuracy, +came flying through the open window and hit her on the cheek. + +Milbanke glanced round quickly; Clodagh laughed; and the victim of the +assault gave a gasp, pushed her saucepans aside, and thrust her head +through the window. + +"Wait till I catch you, Masther Larry!" she cried across the yard. "How +can I be doin' the work of six women and three men with the likes of +you trapesin' about? 'Pon my word, I'll tell on you--I'll tell your +uncle on you. Long threatenin' comes at last!" + +But the only response that greeted her was a smothered laugh from the +stables opposite--a laugh which Clodagh involuntarily echoed. + +Instantly Hannah wheeled round from the window. + +"Ah! Miss Clodagh, isn't it a shame for you?" she exclaimed +tremulously. "Isn't it a shame for you now to be encouragin' that brat +of a boy? Sure, 'tis the third time he thrun his marbles of mud at me +this mornin'. So signs, I'll spake to the masther. I will so." + +She gave her apron a defiant tug. + +Milbanke stood uncertain and embarrassed, nervously curious as to +Clodagh's next move. With a certain misgiving he saw her face brim over +with delight; then with a sense of complete amazement he saw her step +suddenly to the side of the indignant Hannah, throw one arm impulsively +round her neck, and give her a hasty kiss. + +"Indeed you won't speak to him, Hannah--and you know you won't," she +said in her most beguiling tones. "And you'll make a griddle cake for +lunch--just to show you aren't angry. Come on, Mr. Milbanke! Larry is +waiting." + +As they crossed the kitchen, Hannah defiantly passed the corner of her +apron across her eyes and ostentatiously resumed her interrupted work. + +At the door Clodagh looked back. + +"Hannah!" she said persuasively. + +Hannah began to scrape her saucepan. + +"Go on wid you now, Miss Clodagh!" she cried. "Sure 'tis a pair of ye +that's there. I'm out wid ye." + +"But the griddle cake, Hannah?" + +"Let Betsy over at Mrs. Asshlin's make griddle cake for ye. Maybe she +wouldn't put up wid Masther Larry as aisy as me." + +"Of course Betsy would make a griddle cake at any time," said Clodagh +promptly; "only we couldn't eat it--after yours." + +For a moment Hannah made no response; then she gave another disdainful +whisk to her apron and attacked the saucepan with renewed force. + +Clodagh said nothing, but took a step forward. Her cheeks were bright +and her eyes danced with mischief and amusement. As her foot touched +the paving stones of the yard, Hannah raised her head. + +"I suppose 'twill be at wan ye'll be wantin' the lunch?" she said in a +suddenly lowered and mollified voice; and Clodagh responded with a +laugh of triumph and delight. + +Outside in the sunshine of the yard, she laughed again. + +"Hannah is an old duck!" she said. "She is always getting as cross as +two sticks, and then forgetting all about it. Nobody could help teasing +her. But where's Larry gone to? Larry! Larry!" + +There was a pause, a stamping of horse's hoofs, and the sound of a +voice whispering affectionate injunctions to an unseen animal; then +young Laurence Asshlin emerged from the stables, leading his chestnut +cob. + +He was a well-made, long-limbed boy of fourteen, with skin as smooth +and eyes as clear as Clodagh's own. + +"Hullo, Clo!" he exclaimed. "That was a straight shot, wasn't it? Was +she mad?" + +"Pretty mad," responded Clodagh. "This is Mr. Milbanke. He came last +night." + +Young Asshlin eyed the stranger frankly and without embarrassment. + +"You're not at the meet?" he said with involuntary surprise. "I'd be +there, only mother doesn't let me hunt yet. She thinks I'd break my +neck or something," he laughed. "But I'll go to every meet within +twenty miles when I'm a man," he added. "There's nothing as good as +hunting--except sailing. Are you much of a sailor?" + +Milbanke looked back into the bright, fearless eyes and healthy, +spirited face, and again a touch of aloofness, of age, damped him. +There was a buoyancy in this boy and girl, a zest, an enthusiasm +outside which he stood the undeniable alien. + +"Yes, I am fond of the sea," he responded; "but probably not as you are +fond of it." + +Try as he might to be natural and pleasant, his speech sounded stilted, +his words staid. + +The boy looked at him doubtfully. + +"Didn't know there were two ways of doing it," he said, rubbing his +face against the cob's sleek neck. + +But Clodagh came to her guest's rescue. + +"Larry doesn't deserve any credit for liking the sea," she said. "His +father was a sailor. You go on to the fields, Larry," she added; +"you'll find Nance waiting there. I'll saddle Polly in a second, and be +after you with Mr. Milbanke. Run now! you're only wasting time." + +Larry hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. + +"All right!" he acquiesced. "Only don't be long." + +Instantly he was gone, Clodagh handed her whip to Milbanke and darted +into the coach-house, reappearing with a saddle over her arm and a +bridle swinging from her shoulder. + +"You are not going to saddle the horse yourself?" he exclaimed in +consternation. "Let me call one of the men. Please let me call one of +the men." + +Clodagh laughed. + +"There's no one to call," she said. "Burke is the only proper +man-servant we keep, and he drove into Muskeere for provisions as soon +as he brought the bay round for father. You don't think I'd let any of +the labourers touch the horses!" As she said this she laughed again +and, nodding gaily, passed into one of the stalls. + +After she had disappeared Milbanke stood silent, listening with an +uncomfortable embarrassment to the soft whinnying of the horse, the +soft murmuring of Clodagh's voice, the straining and creaking of +leather that reached his ears. At last, yielding to his instincts, he +stepped forward and spoke again. + +"Miss Clodagh, let me help you," he said. "I'm afraid I'm rather +useless, but you might let me try." + +Again Clodagh's soft, humorous laugh answered him. + +"It's done now," she said; "and anyway I've known how to saddle a horse +since I was twelve. Stand back a little, please!" + +He drew back hastily, and she led out a small grey mare. + +"She isn't much to look at," she explained, "but she's grand to go--and +I know she's going to win. She must win." + +She kissed the animal impulsively on the soft, quivering nostril. + +Together they threaded their way between the scurrying fowls and +innumerable dogs that filled the yard--Clodagh leading the mare, +Milbanke keeping close to her side. + +"What is this race for?" he asked, as they passed through the arched +gateway. "A mere trial of strength?" + +Clodagh's eyes widened. + +"Oh no," she said; "that would be silly. There are stakes of +course--Larry's telescope against my Irish terrier. The telescope +belonged to Uncle Laurence, and is a beauty; but it's nothing at all to +Mick--Mick is a pedigree dog, six months old, with the finest coat and +the loveliest head you ever saw. If I lost him----" But here she +stopped. "It's unlucky to say that, isn't it?" she added quickly. "Of +course I'm not going to lose him." + +Again she turned and fondled the mare; and a moment later they came +into view of the long, level fields that lay between the house and the +sea, and saw the erect figure of Larry clearly silhouetted against the +sky, as he sat his cob with the ease of the born horseman. + +It took Milbanke but a few minutes to place himself in a safe and +advantageous position on a ditch that, dividing two of the fields, was +to form the last jump of the race. And once ensconced in this pleasant +and not uncomfortable seat, he watched the cousins move across the +fields to the point where little Nance was waiting to arrange the +preliminaries. He saw Clodagh mount the grey mare, observed the one or +two inevitable false starts, then became conscious with a quickening of +interest that the race had begun. + +Had he been possessed of the humorous quality he would undoubtedly have +been drawn into a smile at his own position; as it was, he saw nothing +ludicrous in the idea of an elderly student seated on an Irish ditch, +playing umpire to a couple of children. As the horses started, he +merely settled himself more securely in his seat, and drew out his +handkerchief in obedience to the instinct that some expression of +enthusiasm would be demanded by the winner. He could not picture +himself raising a cheer as the conqueror sailed past him; but his +dignity affably bent to the idea of a friendly wave of a handkerchief. + +A slight breeze was blowing in from the sea, and the intense freshness +of the atmosphere again obtruded itself upon him as he watched the +horses swing towards him across the fields, the thud of their hoofs +upon the grass gaining in volume with every stride. + +For a space they galloped neck to neck; then slowly, almost +imperceptibly, Clodagh drew away. For a couple of seconds the distance +between the animals became noticeable; then young Asshlin, urging the +chestnut, regained his lost position, and to Milbanke's eyes the two +were again abreast as they crossed the last field. + +Once more he settled himself in his place of vantage. Something in the +freshness of the morning, something in the youth and vitality of the +competitors gave the race an interest and attraction it would otherwise +have lacked. With a reluctant sensation--half curiosity, half the +alien's unaccountable attraction towards conditions of life other than +his own--he found himself straining his eyes towards the two slight +figures moving towards him across the short grass. Nearer and nearer +they came, maintaining their level positions; then, as the last ditch +came clearly into view, the grey mare seemed to gather herself together +for the short final gallop and the jump. Leaning forward, he saw +Clodagh straighten herself in the saddle as each stride increased the +advantage she had gained. + +Unconsciously--with the nearer pounding of the hoofs--the excitement +of the moment touched him. But it touched him with disastrous results. +As the mare neared the ditch, he suddenly leant forward, losing the +balance he had so carefully preserved. + +The action was instantaneous, and it was but the work of another +instant to grasp the sturdy weeds that topped the ditch, and regain his +position; but unwittingly the harmless incident had changed the result +of the race. As he involuntarily steadied himself, the handkerchief, +held in readiness for the victor, slipped from his hand and fluttered +down upon the grass. + +It fell at the feet of the grey mare. She paused in sudden alarm, then +hunched herself together, and shied away from it as from a ghost. + +No harm was done. Clodagh kept her seat without a tremor; but in that +second of lost time the cob drew level with his rival, then sailed +triumphantly over the ditch. + +For Milbanke there was a moment of horrible suspense, and a succeeding +relief that drove all thought of the race and its result far from his +mind. Immediately the field was clear he scrambled from his position +and hurried to where Clodagh was soothing the still frightened Polly. + +"Miss Clodagh," he began, "I am so sorry. I assure you it--it was not +my fault." + +Clodagh was bending low over the mare's neck, her flushed face +partially hidden. She made no reply to his confused and stammering +speech. + +"Miss Clodagh," he began afresh, "you are not angry? You don't think it +was my fault?" + +Clodagh laughed a little tremulously. + +"Of course not," she said. "How can you be so silly? I hadn't her +properly in hand, that was all." + +As she finished young Asshlin cantered back, halting on the further +side of the ditch. His face was also flushed and his eyes looked dark. + +"Look here," he said, eyeing Milbanke, "what did you mean by balking +her like that? What were you doing with your beastly handkerchief? +'Twas no race, Clo!" + +But Clodagh looked up. + +"Oh yes, it was," she said. "It was all my own fault; I hadn't Polly in +hand. I should have pulled her together and sent her over with a touch +of the whip. Apologise, Larry! 'Twas a fair race." + +But Larry still hesitated, his glance straying doubtfully from one face +to the other. + +"Honour bright, Clo?" he asked at last. + +Clodagh nodded. + +"Then I'm sorry, sir," he said frankly, "for saying what I said." + +Milbanke made a murmur of forgiveness; and a moment later Nance +appeared upon the scene, breathless and full of curiosity. As Larry +entered upon a voluble account of the finish in reply to her eager +questions, Clodagh wheeled the mare round and trotted quickly across +the fields in the direction of the house. + +For a moment or two Milbanke stood irresolute; then a sudden impulse to +follow the mare and her rider seized him, and ignoring Nance and +Larry--still absorbed in heated explanation--he took his way slowly +across the green and springy turf. + +His crossing of the field was measured and methodical, and he had +barely come within sight of the arched gateway of the yard when Clodagh +reappeared--this time on foot. The tail of her habit was tucked under +one arm, the struggling form of an Irish terrier was held firmly under +the other. + +She came straight forward in his direction; and, reaching him, would +have passed on without speaking. But he halted in front of her. + +"Miss Clodagh," he said, "you are hurt and disappointed." + +Clodagh averted her eyes. + +"I'm not," she said shortly. + +"But I see that you are." + +"No, I'm not." + +"Miss Clodagh, you are. Can't I do something?" + +Then at last she looked at him. Her cheeks were burning, and her eyes +were brimming with tears that only pride held back. + +"It isn't the old race," she said defiantly. "It's--it's Mick." + +Two tears suddenly welled over and dropped on the red head of the dog, +who responded with an adoring look and a wild attempt to lick her face. + +"Oh, I've had him since he was six weeks old!" she cried impulsively. +"I reared him and trained him myself! He knows every word I say." + +Milbanke suddenly looked relieved. + +"Is that all?" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Is that all? We'll soon put +that right. Keep your dog. I'll settle matters with your cousin." + +He glanced back across the fields to where Larry was walking the cob to +and fro. + +But Clodagh's face expressed intense surprise. + +"But you don't understand," she said. "Mick was the stake. 'Twas a fair +race, and Larry won. Mick is--is Larry's now." + +He laughed a little. + +"Oh, nonsense! You raced for fun." + +"Yes, for the best fun we could get," she said seriously. "That's why +we staked what we cared most about. Don't you understand?" + +For the moment her grief was merged in her unaffected surprise at his +lack of comprehension. + +But Milbanke was staring at her interestedly. The scene at the +breakfast-table, and with it Asshlin's offended pride and ridiculous +dignity, had risen before him with her soft, surprised tone, her wide, +incredulous gaze. With total unconsciousness she was voicing the +sentiments of her race. An Asshlin might neglect everything else in the +world, but his debts of honour were sacred things. + +He looked more closely at the pretty, distressed face, at the brimming +eyes, and the resolutely set lips. + +"And simply because you staked him," he said, "you intend to lose the +dog?" + +Clodagh caught her breath, and a fresh tear fell on Mick's head; then +with a defiant lifting of the chin she started forward across the +field. + +"'Twas a fair race," she said in an unsteady voice. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Whatever Clodagh may have felt upon the subject, she made no further +allusion to the loss of her dog. + +An hour after the race, Milbanke, standing at his bedroom window, +caught a glimpse of Larry riding slowly across the fields towards the +avenue with the evidently unwilling Mick held securely under his arm; +and a few minutes afterwards, a noisy bell, clanging through the house, +informed him that luncheon had been served. + +The two girls were already in the dining-room when he entered. Clodagh +had changed her riding habit for a neat holland dress; her hair was +smoothly plaited, and only a lingering trace of the morning's +excitement burned in her cheeks. + +As the guest entered, she came forward at once and pointed to his chair +with a pretty touch of gracious hospitality. + +"Where is your cousin?" he said, as he responded to her gesture. + +She flushed momentarily. + +"Gone!" she answered laconically. Then, conscious that the reply was +curt, she made haste to amend it. "He's gone home to lunch," she added. +"Aunt Fan wanted him back. She's a great invalid and always worrying +about him. I suppose invalids are never like other people. Will you +please help yourself?" + +She smiled and indicated a steaming stew--sufficient to feed ten hungry +people--that Hannah, acting in Burke's absence, had planted heavily +upon the table. + +"We always begin lunch with meat," Clodagh explained; "but we always +finish with tea and whatever Hannah will make for us to eat. If you +stay long enough you'll be able to tell all Hannah's tempers by what we +get at lunch. When she's terribly cross we have bread and jam; when +she's middling we get soda bread; but when she's really and truly nice +we have currant loaf or griddle cake!" + +She glanced round mischievously at the red face of the factotum. + +Hannah, who had been wavering between offence and amusement, suddenly +succumbed to the look. + +"Sure, 'tis a quare notion you'll be givin' him of the place," she +said, amicably joining in the conversation without a shade of +embarrassment. "If I was you, I wouldn't be tellin' a gintleman that I +laves the whole work of the house to wan poor ould woman, an' goes +galavantin' over the country mornin', noon, an' night, instead of +learnin' meself to be a good housekeeper! So signs, 'tis Miss Nance +that'll find the husband first!" With a knowing glance at Milbanke and +a shake of the head she left the room, banging the door behind her. + +Clodagh laughed. The insinuation in Hannah's words and look passed +unnoticed by her. She swept them aside unconcernedly, and proceeded +with an inborn tact--an inborn sense of the responsibilities of her +position--to fill her _role_ of hostess and entertain her guest. + +So successful was she in this new aspect, that Milbanke found himself +thawing--even growing communicative under her influence as the meal +progressed. Long before the appetising griddle cake and the heavy +silver teapot had been laid upon the table he had begun to feel at +home; to meet Nance's shy, friendly smiles without embarrassment; to +talk with freedom and naturalness of his small, personal ambitions, his +own unimportant, individual researches in his pet study of antiquity. + +A reticent man--when once his reticence has been broken down--makes as +egotistical a confidant as any other. Before they rose from the table, +he had been beguiled into forgetting that the Celtic zeal for the +entertainment of a guest may sometimes be mistaken for something more; +that Irish children--with their natural kinship to sun and rain, dogs +and horses, men and women--may assume, but cannot possibly feel, an +interest in monuments of wood or stone, no matter how historic or how +unique. + +This erroneous impression remained with him until the time arrived for +Clodagh to pilot him to Carrigmore; and filled with the knowledge of +having a sympathetic listener, he harked back to his earliest +experiences while he covered the two miles of firm yellow sand with his +young hostess walking sedately beside him and half a dozen +dogs--setters, retrievers, and sharp-nosed terriers--careering about +him in a joyous band. He entered upon minute and technical details of +every archaeological discovery of the past decade; he recounted his +personal opinion of each; he even unbent to the extent of relating a +dry anecdote or two during that delightful walk in the mellow warmth of +the afternoon. It was only when the long curve of the strand had at +last been traversed and the rocks of Orristown left far behind, that +discoveries, opinions, and stories alike faded from his mind in the +nearer interest of the Carrigmore ruins. + +Even to the pleasure-seeker there is something symbolic and imposing in +the tall, grey, symmetrical tower that tops the hill above Carrigmore +and faces the great sweep of the Atlantic Ocean; something infinitely +ancient and impressive in the crumbling ruins of the church from whose +walls the rudely carved figures look down to-day as they looked down in +primitive Christian times, when Carrigmore was a centre of learning, +and its tower a beacon to the world of Faith. To Milbanke--a student of +such things--they were a revelation. + +He scarcely spoke as he climbed the steep hill and entered the +grass-grown churchyard; and once within the precincts of the ruin all +considerations save the consideration of the moment faded from his +thoughts. With the mild enthusiasm that his hobby always awoke in him, +he set about a minute examination of the place, hurriedly unstrapping +the satchel in which he carried his antiquarian's paraphernalia. + +During the first half-hour Clodagh sat dutifully on one of the graves, +alternately plaiting grasses and admonishing or petting her dogs; then +her long-tried patience gave out. With a sudden imperative need of +action she rose, shook the grasses from her skirt, and, picking her way +between the half-buried headstones, reached Milbanke's side. + +"Mr. Milbanke," she said frankly, "would you mind very much if I went +away and came back for you in an hour? You see, the ruins aren't quite +so new to me as they are to you--people say they've been here since the +fourth century." + +She laughed, and called to the dogs. + +But Milbanke scarcely heard the laugh. There was a flush of delight on +his thin cheeks as he peered through his magnifying-glass into one of +the carved stones. He waited a moment before replying; then he answered +with bent head. + +"Certainly, Miss Clodagh," he said abstractedly--"certainly! But make +it two hours, I beg of you, instead of one." + +And with another amused laugh Clodagh took advantage of her dismissal. + + +Milbanke's absorption was so unfeigned that when Clodagh came running +back nearly three hours later, full of remorse for her long desertion, +he greeted her with something amounting to regret. + +Twice she had to remind him that the afternoon was all but spent and +the long walk to Orristown still to be reckoned with, before he could +desist from the fascinating task of completing the notes he had made. +At last, with a little sigh of amiable regret, he shut up his book, +returned the magnifying-glass to his satchel, and slowly followed her +out of the churchyard. + +They had covered half a mile of the smooth strand, across which the +first long shadows of evening had begun to fall, before the glamour of +the past centuries had faded from his consideration, permitting the +more material present to obtrude itself. + +Then at last, with a little start of compunction, he realised how +silent and uninteresting a companion he must seem to the girl walking +so staidly beside him; and with something of guilt in the movement, he +withdrew his eyes from the long, wet line of sand where the incoming +tide was stealthily encroaching. + +"Miss Clodagh," he said abruptly, "what are you thinking of?" + +With frank spontaneity, she turned and met his gaze. + +"I was wondering," she said candidly, "when you'd forget the Round +Tower and remember about father." + +He started, roused to a fresh sense of guilt. + +"You--you mustn't think----" he began stammeringly. + +But Clodagh laughed. + +"Oh, don't bother about it!" she said easily. "I wasn't really +thinking." + +For a while he remained silent, watching the noisy dogs as they +ineffectually chased the seagulls that wheeled above the unruffled +waves; then, at last, urged by his awakened conscience, he half paused +and looked again at the girl's bright face. + +"Miss Clodagh," he began, "I feel very guilty--I _am_ very guilty." + +Clodagh glanced back at him. + +"How?" she said simply. + +"Because last night I unconsciously did what you disapprove of. I +played with your father for high stakes, and I am ashamed to say that I +won a large sum of money." + +For an instant the brightness left her glance; she looked at him with +the serious eyes of the night before. + +"Much?" she asked impulsively. + +"Twenty pounds." Milbanke felt himself colour. Then he rallied his +courage. "But that isn't all," he added quickly. "I have something +worse to confess. When I came down to breakfast this morning I found a +cheque lying on my plate. I felt intensely remorseful, as you can +imagine; and determined to make reparation. After breakfast I broached +the subject to Denis; I begged him to allow me to cancel our play by +tearing up the cheque. He was furiously angry; and I, instead of +showing the courage of my opinion, was actually weak enough to succumb. +Now, what punishment do you think I deserve?" He paused, looking at her +anxiously. + +For a while she looked steadily ahead, absorbed in her own thoughts; +then slowly she looked back at him with interested, incredulous eyes. + +"Don't English people pay when they lose?" she asked after a long +pause. + +Again he coloured. + +"Why, yes," he said hurriedly. "Yes, of course, only----" + +"Only what?" + +"Nothing--nothing. It was only that I thought you wanted----" + +"I wanted you not to encourage him. I never wanted you to think that he +isn't a gentleman." + +She made the statement with perfect naturalness, as though the subject +was one of common, everyday discussion. According to her code of +honour, she was justified in putting every possible bar to her father's +weakness; but where the bar had proved useless, where the weakness had +conquered and the deed she disapproved of had been accomplished, then +the matter, to her thinking, had passed out of her hands. Her judgment +ceased to be individual and became the judgment of her race. + +As she looked at Milbanke's perplexed, concerned face, her expression +changed, and she smiled. The smile was gracious and reassuring, but +below the graciousness lay a tinge of tolerant indulgence. + +"We won't talk about it any more," she said. "I don't suppose you can +be expected to understand." And suddenly raising her head, she whistled +to the dogs. + +During the remainder of the walk Milbanke was very silent. Perplexed +and yet fascinated by the problem, his mind dwelt unceasingly upon this +strange position into which the chances of a day or two had thrown him. +The bonds that drew him to his entertainers, and the gulf that +separated him from them, were so tangible and yet so illusive. In every +outward respect they were his fellow beings; they spoke the same +language, wore the same dress, ate the same food, and yet +unquestionably they were creatures of different fibre. He felt +curiously daunted and curiously attracted by the peculiar fact. + +To appreciate the difference between the Englishman and the Irishman +one must see the latter in his native atmosphere. It is there that his +faults and his virtues take on their proper values; there that his +innate poetry, his reckless generosity, his prodigal hospitality have +fullest scope; there that his primitive narrowness of outlook, his +antiquated sense of honour and his absurdly sensitive self-esteem are +most vividly backgrounded. Outside his own country, he is merely a +subject of a great Empire, possessing, perhaps, a sharper wit and a +more ingratiating manner than his fellow-subjects of colder +temperament; but in his natural environment he stands out pre-eminently +as a peculiar development--the product of a warm-blooded, intelligent, +imaginative race that by some oversight of Nature has been pushed aside +in the march of the nations. + +Milbanke made no attempt to formulate this idea or any portion of it, +as he paced steadily forward across the darkening sands; but +incontinently it did flash across his mind that the girl beside him +claimed more attention in this unsophisticated atmosphere than he might +have given her in conventional surroundings. She was so much part of +the picture--so undeniably a child of the sweeping cliffs, the +magnificent sea, and the hundred traditions that encircled the +primitive land. In her buoyant, youthful figure he seemed, by a curious +retrograde process of the mind, to find the solution to his own early +worship of Asshlin. Asshlin had attracted him, ruled him, domineered +over him by right of superiority--the hereditary, half-barbaric +superiority of the natural aristocrat; the man of ancient lineage in a +country where yesterday--and the glories of yesterday--stand for +everything, where to-day is unreckoned with, and to-morrow does not +exist. Reaching the end of the strand, he turned to her quickly with a +strange sensation of sympathy--almost of apprehension. + +"Miss Clodagh," he said gently, as she began to ascend the heaped-up +boulders that separated the road from the beach, "Miss Clodagh, I grant +that I don't quite understand, as you put it; but I knew your father +many years before you were born, and I think that gives me some +privilege. On one point I have quite made up my mind. I shall not play +cards again while I am in your house." + +As he spoke, Clodagh paused in her ascent of the boulders and looked at +him. In the softly deepening twilight her eyes again held the +mysterious promise of great beauty; and in their depths a shade of +respect, of surprised admiration had suddenly become visible. As she +gazed at him, her lips parted involuntarily. + +"I didn't think you were so plucky," she said; then abruptly she +stopped, glancing over her shoulder. + +From the road behind them came the clicking thud of a horse's hoofs, +and a moment later the voice of Asshlin hailed them out of the dusk. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It would be futile to deny that the unexpected sound of Asshlin's voice +brought a tremor to the mind of his guest. It is disconcerting to the +most valiant to be confronted with his antagonist in the very moment +that he has laid down his challenge; and at best Milbanke was no hero. +Nevertheless he recovered his equanimity with creditable speed, and +exchanging a quick glance with Clodagh, scrambled hastily over the +remaining stones and reached the road. + +As he gained it, Asshlin pulled up sharply and dismounted from his big, +bony horse with all the dexterity of a young man. With a loud laugh of +greeting, he slipped the bridle over one hand and linked the other in +Milbanke's arm. + +"Hullo!" he cried. "Now who'd have dreamt that I'd meet you like this? +I'm ashamed of you, James. 'Pon my word I am. Philandering across the +strand in the fall of the evening as if you were still in the twenties. +It's with me you should have been. We had the deuce of a fine run!" + +He paused to push his hat from his hot forehead and to rearrange the +bridle. + +Clodagh, who had followed Milbanke slowly, stepped eagerly forward as +she caught the last words. + +"Oh, father," she cried, "tell us about it! Who was there? Was the +sport good? Did the bay carry you well?" + +In her suddenly awakened interest it was clear to Milbanke that the +vital question she had been discussing with him--the opinions he had +expressed upon it--his very existence even, were obliterated from her +mind, her natural, youthful exuberance responding to the idea of any +physical action as unfailingly as the needle answers to the magnet. And +again the faintly poignant sense of aloofness and age fell upon him as +he listened uncomprehendingly to Asshlin's excited flow of words, and +watched the bright, ardent face of the girl glowing out of the shadows. + +They made a curious trio as they covered the stretch of road that led +to Orristown and passed between the heavy moss-grown piers of the big +gate, entering the deep shade of the avenue. With an instinctive care +for his horse, Asshlin went first, cautiously guiding the animal over +the ruts that time and the heavy rains had ploughed in the soft ground. +Behind him came Clodagh, Milbanke, and their following of dogs. + +Once again the thought of what the evening held came unpleasantly to +Milbanke's mind as the shadow of the gaunt beech trees and the outline +of the great square house brought the position home to him afresh. Lack +imagination as he might, he realised that it was no light task to +thwart a man whose faults had been cultivated and whose +peculiarities--racial and personal--had been accentuated by a quarter +of a century of comparative isolation. But instinctively as the thought +came to him, he turned to the girl, whose erect figure had grown +indistinct in the gathering gloom. + +"Miss Clodagh," he whispered, "though I may not understand, are you +satisfied to trust me?" + +There was a pause; then, with one of the sudden impulses that formed so +large a part of her individuality, Clodagh put out her hand; and for an +instant her fingers and Milbanke's touched. + + +To every one but Asshlin, the dinner that evening was a strain. But the +silence or the uneasiness of the others was powerless to damp his +enthusiasm. His appetite was tremendous; and as he ate plentifully and +swallowed glass after glass of sherry, his excitement and his spirits +rose. With the ardour of the born sportsman, he recounted again and +again the details of the day's hunt--dwelling lovingly on the behaviour +of the dogs and horses, and the prowess of his own mount in particular. +Finally, he rose from the table with a flushed face, though a perfectly +steady gait, and, crossing the room, pulled the long bell-rope that +hung beside the fireplace. + +"Now for our night, James!" he cried. "Now for my revenge! + +"Clear the table, Burke," he added, as the old man appeared in answer +to the summons. "Get out the cards, and bring enough candles to light +us all to glory!" He gave a boisterous laugh; and, turning with a touch +of bravado, stood facing the picture of his great-grandfather. + +Instinctively, as he turned his back upon the party, little Nance drew +nearer to her sister, and Clodagh glanced at Milbanke. + +As their eyes met, he involuntarily stiffened his small, spare figure, +and with a quick, nervous manner nodded towards the door. + +For a moment Clodagh hesitated, her fear for her father's self-control +dominated by her native interest in an encounter; then Nance decided +the matter by plucking hurriedly at her sleeve. + +"Don't stop, Clo!" she whispered almost inaudibly, her small, +expressive face puckered with anxiety--"don't stop! I'm frightened." + +The appeal was instantly effective. Clodagh rose at once, and with one +arm passed reassuringly round the child's shoulder, slipped silently +from the room. + +For some moments after the two had departed, Asshlin retained his +position: and Milbanke, intently watchful of his tall figure, held +himself nervously in hand for the coming encounter. At last, when the +cloth had been removed, the candles renewed, and the cards placed upon +the table, Asshlin turned--his face flushed with anticipation. + +"That's good!" he exclaimed. "That's good! With a bottle of port and a +pack of cards a man could be happy in Hades! Not that I'm forgetting +the good comrade that gives a flavour to the combination, James. Not +that I'm forgetting that." + +His smile had much of the charm, his voice much of the warmth that had +marked them long ago, as he drew his chair to the table and picked up +the cards. + +Milbanke straightened himself in his seat. + +"Come along, man! Draw up!--draw up to the table! What shall it be? +Euchre again? Are you agreeable to the same stakes?" Asshlin talked on, +heedless of the strangely unresponsive demeanour of his guest. + +As he ceased to speak, however, Milbanke took the plunge he had been +contemplating all day. In the silence of the room, broken only by the +faint, comfortable hissing of the peat in the fireplace and the +rustling of the cards as Asshlin mechanically shuffled them, he pulled +his chair forward and laid his clasped hands on the table. + +"Denis," he said in his thin, quiet voice, "I am sorry--very sorry to +disappoint you, but I cannot play." + +Asshlin paused in the act of shuffling and laid the cards down. + +"What in the name of fortune are you talking about?" he asked. His tone +was indulgent and amused; it was evident that the meaning in the +other's words had not definitely reached him. + +"It is not a joke," Milbanke interposed quickly. "I cannot--I do not +intend to play." + +Then for the first time a shadow of comprehension crossed Asshlin's +face--but it was only a shadow. With a boisterous laugh, he leant +forward and filled the empty glasses that stood upon the table, pushing +one across to Milbanke. + +"Have a drop of port, man!" he cried. "Twill give you courage to cut." + +He lifted and drained his own glass, and setting it back upon the +table, refilled it. + +But Milbanke remained immovable. His thin hands were still clasped, his +pale face looked anxious. + +"Go on, James! You're not afraid of a drop of wine?" Again Asshlin +laughed, but this time there was an unpleasant ring audible in his +voice. + +Mechanically Milbanke lifted his glass to his lips. + +"No," he said with embarrassed deprecation, "no, I'm more afraid of +your displeasure. I--I'm exceedingly sorry to disappoint you." + +But once more his host laughed. + +"Nonsense, man! I know your little scruples and your little conscience, +and I'm not scared of either. Never meet the devil half way! He covers +the ground too quickly as it is." He caught up the cards again, and +forming them into a pack, held them out. "Cut!" he said laconically. + +Milbanke drew back, and his lips came together, in a thin line. + +"Come on! Cut!" + +The colour of Asshlin's face became a shade deeper. + +Still the other sat rigidly still. + +For a moment their eyes held each other; then suddenly the blood surged +into Asshlin's neck and face. + +"Do you mean to say that you refuse to play?" he asked slowly. "That +you refuse to give me my revenge?" + +Milbanke met the attack unsteadily. + +"My dear Denis----" + +But before the words had left his lips, Asshlin flung the cards upon +the table with a force that sent a score of them flying across the +room. + +"And may I ask you for your reasons?" he demanded with alarming calm. + +Milbanke fenced. + +"I do not wish to play." + +"And I don't wish to be treated as a fool." + +The other altered his attitude. + +"My dear Denis, you surely acknowledge the right of free will? I do not +wish to play cards, and therefore beg to be excused. What could be +simpler?" + +His manner was slightly perturbed, his speech hasty. There was the +suggestion of a sleeping volcano in his host's unnatural calm. + +In the silence that followed, Asshlin lifted his glass and emptied it +slowly. + +"I don't know about that," he said as he set it down. "There are +unwritten codes that all the free will in the world won't dispose of. +One of them is that a gentleman who wins at cards cannot refuse his +opponent the satisfaction of his revenge. But perhaps the etiquette has +changed since my time." + +His manner was still controlled, but his eyes glittered. + +Milbanke cleared his throat. + +"My dear Asshlin," he said, "we are surely friends of too long standing +to split hairs in this fashion. What is this revenge that you talk of? +Nothing--a myth--an imaginary justification of honour." + +A quick sound of contempt escaped Asshlin. + +"And what is every code and every sentiment in the world but an outcome +of imagination?" he cried. "What is it but imagination that herds us +off from the beasts? I'm satisfied to call it imagination. It tells me +that I was worsted last night, and that I'm capable of better things if +I try my luck again. I'm satisfied to follow its promptings--and demand +my revenge!" + +For a while Milbanke sat miserable and undecided; then under the goad +of the other's eyes, he did an ill-judged thing. Fumbling nervously for +his letter-case, he rose from his seat and walked across to the +fireplace. + +"There is nothing for you to revenge," he said agitatedly. "There was +no play last night. It's cancelled. I cancel it." + +With tremulous haste, he pulled out the letter-case, extricated +Asshlin's cheque, and dropped it into the fire. + +There was a pause--a pause of tremendous moment--in which he stood +aghast at his own deed. Then Asshlin turned on him, his face purple and +convulsed with rage. + +"You dare to insult me? You dare to insult me in my own house? You dare +to imply that it was the money--the damned money, that I wanted to win +back?" + +Milbanke looked up sharply. + +"Good God, no!" he exclaimed with unwonted vehemence. "Such a thought +never entered my mind." + +"Then what's the meaning of all this? What is it all driving at?" + +Asshlin's hard, handsome face was contorted by passion and his hands +shook. + +"Nothing. It's driving at nothing. It is simply that I do not wish to +play." + +"And why not?" He suddenly rose, his great body towering above the +other's. "Why not? By God, I'll have an answer!" + +"There is no answer." + +"No answer? We'll see about that. Who's been lying to you about me? +Who's been carrying scandals about me? Out with it!--out with it!" + +Then unexpectedly Milbanke's trepidation forsook him. He suddenly +straightened himself. + +"No one," he answered. + +"No one? Are you quite sure?" + +"No-one!" + +"Then what do you mean by this? What do you mean by meddling in my +affairs?" + +He took a menacing step forward. + +[Illustration: With a fierce gesture he took another step forward.] + +Milbanke stood firm. + +"I have my reasons," he said quietly. + +"Your reasons, have you?" Asshlin laughed harshly. "Then I'll have my +answer. What do you mean by it?" + +For a second the older man remained silent and unmoved; then a light +gleamed in his colourless eyes. + +"All right!" he said. "You shall have it. Perhaps it is as well. I came +here expecting to see the boy I had known grown into a genial, +hospitable, honourable gentleman; instead, I find him an undisciplined, +tyrannical egotist." + +He said it quickly in a rush of unusual vehemence. All his +anticipations, all his suspicions, and their subsequent +justification--coupled with the new sense of protection towards the +children of his early friend--found voice in these words. + +"You are an egotist, Denis," he repeated distinctly. "A weak, worthless +egotist--not fit to have children--not fit to have a friend----" + +Asshlin stared at him for a moment in speechless surprise; then +indignation surmounted every other feeling. With a fierce gesture he +took another step forward, his eyes blazing, his hand menacingly +clenched. + +"How--how dare you?" he stammered. "How dare you? By God, if you were a +bigger man I'd--I'd----" + +He paused, choked by his fury. + +"I know--I know. But I'm not afraid of you. I'm not to be bullied into +subjection." + +Milbanke's temper, difficult to rouse, was stirred at last. He gave his +host glance for glance. + +"You realise what you have said?" Asshlin's dark face was distorted, +his voice came unsteadily. + +"Yes. I regret that I have to say it, but I do not regret saying it. It +is wholesome for a man to hear the truth." + +"Oh, it's wholesome to hear the truth, is it?" + +"Yes; and I won't see you go to pieces for want of a word. You are a +man with obligations, and you are neglecting your obligations. There +are other things in life besides cards and horses----" + +Asshlin suddenly threw back his head. + +"By God, you're right!" he cried. "And the other things are a damn +sight worse. I'd put a good horse before a self-righteous preacher any +day." + +Milbanke's usually pallid face flushed. + +"You mean that for me?" he asked quietly. + +Asshlin shrugged his shoulders. + +"If you like," he said. "If the cap fits----" For a moment Milbanke +said nothing; then once again he straightened his small, thin figure. + +"Very well, Denis," he said, "I quite understand. With your permission +I will say good-bye to you now, and to-morrow morning I will catch the +earliest train from Muskeere." + +He looked at his host steadily. Then, through the temper that still +mastered him, a twinge of regret, a sense of parting and loss obtruded +themselves. With all his intolerable faults, Asshlin still stood within +the halo and glamour of the past. + +"Denis!" he exclaimed suddenly. + +But the appeal was made too late. Uncontrollable fury--the one power +which could efface his sense of hospitality--possessed Asshlin. His +pulses pounded; his senses were blurred. With a seething consciousness +of insult and injury, he turned again upon his guest. + +"You can go to hell for all I care!" he cried savagely. + +For a second Milbanke continued to look at him; then without a word he +turned, crossed the room, and passed into the hall. + + + + +_PART II_ + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was on a windy March morning three years after his summarily ended +visit to Ireland, that James Milbanke stood in the bedroom of his +London flat. A perturbed frown puckered his forehead and he held an +open letter in his hand. + +Outside, the dark sky and cold searching breeze proclaimed the raw +English spring; inside, the partly dismantled walls of the room, the +emptied drawers and wardrobe, the trunks, bags, and rugs standing ready +strapped, all suggested another and more inviting climate. Milbanke was +bound for the south. + +Three months earlier he had come to the momentous conclusion that a +solitary life in London--spent no matter how comfortably--becomes a +colourless and somewhat empty thing after a thirty-three years' +experience. He had his club and his friends, but he was not a clubman +born, and friends must be very intimate to be all-sufficing. The +restlessness that sometimes unexpectedly attacks the middle-aged +bachelor had fallen upon him. The suggestion that he craved new +surroundings and new fields of interest had been slow in coming, and +his acceptance of it had been slow. But steadily and inevitably it had +grown into his consciousness, maturing almost against his will, until +at last the day had dawned on which he had admitted to himself that a +change was indispensable. The subsequent events had followed in natural +order. His hobby had urged him to leave his own country for one richer +in association; the damp cold of the English winter, coupled with the +chilled blood of advancing age, had inclined him to the idea of +Southern Europe. The result of his triple suggestion was that he stood +in his room on that spring morning in the last stages of preparation +for a journey to Italy. + +He stood there, with the discomfort of packing pleasantly accomplished, +and his belongings neatly surrounding him; yet his attitude and +expression were those of a man who is faced by an unlooked-for +difficulty. With a nervous gesture, he shook out the letter that he +held, and began to read it hastily for the fourth time. It was a long +letter, written in a careless, almost boyish hand on thin paper, and +bore the address of "Orristown, Ireland." It was dated two days +earlier, and began: + + "DEAR MR. MILBANKE,-- + + "You will be very much surprised to get this, but I write for + father, not for myself. He had a bad accident yesterday while out + riding, and is terribly hurt and ill. The doctor from Carrigmore is + with him all the time, and my aunt--as well as Nance and I; so he + is well cared for. But he seems to get worse instead of better, and + we are dreadfully frightened about him. + + "There is one thing he constantly craves for--and that is to see + you. Ever since that night, three years ago, when you and he + quarrelled and you went away, I think he has been fretting about + you. Of course, he has never spoken of it, but I don't think he has + ever forgotten that he treated you badly. + + "This morning he talked a great deal about the time when you and he + were young together; so much so, that I asked him if he would like + to see you. The moment I spoke his face lighted up, but then at + once it clouded over again, and he muttered something about never + giving any man the chance of refusing him a favour. + + "Dear Mr. Milbanke asking you to come here, but I feel differently. + I would risk anything a hundred times over on the chance of bringing + you to him. And if you are in London, please do come, if only for + one night. Don't refuse, for he is very, very bad. Any time you send + me a telegram, the trap can meet you either at Muskeere or Dunhaven. + + "This is a dreadful letter, but I have been up all night, and + scarcely know what I am writing. + + "Answer as soon as possible, + + "Yours, + + "CLODAGH ASSHLIN." + +Milbanke scanned the letter to the last line; then, as he reached the +signature, the inertia that had pervaded his mind was suddenly +dispersed. His own shock of sorrow and dismay, his own interrupted +plans faded from his consideration; and in their place rose the picture +of a great white house on the lonely Irish coast; of a sick--perhaps a +dying--man; of two frightened children and a couple of faithful, +inefficient servants. With an energy he had not evinced for years he +crossed the room, stumbling over straps and parcels, and rang the bell +with imperative haste. + +When a surprised maid appeared at the door he turned to her with +unwonted excitement. + +"I have a telegram to send," he said; "one that must go at once." + + +The rest of that day, with its suddenly altered plans, its long railway +journey from Paddington to New Milford, and its stormy night crossing +from the latter point to the town of Waterford, was too beset with +haste and confusion to contain any definite recollections for Milbanke. +It was not until he had taken his seat at eight o'clock next morning in +the small and leisurely train that transports passengers from Waterford +to the seaport of Dunhaven that he found time to realise the +significance of his journey; and not until he descended from his +carriage at this latter station and was greeted by old Burke, the +Orristown retainer, that he fully appreciated the gravity of the +incident that had occasioned it. + +There was no change apparent in Burke's familiar face save the gloom +that overhung his expression. But this was obvious to Milbanke at a +first glance. + +"You're welcome, sir!" were his opening words; then the underlying bent +of his thoughts found vent. "'Tis a sorrowful house you'll be findin'," +he added in a subdued voice. + +Milbanke glanced up sharply from the rug he was unstrapping. + +"How is he?" he asked. "Not worse?" + +Burke shook his head. + +"'Twouldn't be wishin' for me to give you the bad word----" he began +deprecatingly. + +"Then he is bad?" + +The old man pursed up his lips. + +"Ah, I'm in dread 'tis for his long home he's bound," he said +reluctantly. "Glory be to God an' His Holy Ways! But 'tis of thim two +poor children that I do be thinkin'." + +But Milbanke's mind was occupied with his first words. + +"But how is he?" he demanded. "What is the injury? Has he an efficient +doctor?" + +Again Burke shook his head. + +"Docthors?" he said dubiously. "Wisha, I don't put much pass on +docthors! not but what they say Docthor Gallagher from Carrigmore is a +fine hand wid the knife. But, sure, when the Almighty takes the notion +to break every bone in a man's body, 'tisn't for the like of docthors +to be settin' up to mend them." + +With this piece of pessimistic philosophy, he picked up Milbanke's bags +and rug, and guided him through the small station into the open, where +the Orristown trap stood waiting in a downpour of rain. + +He imparted little more information during the long drive, and Milbanke +had to sit under his dripping umbrella with as much patience as he +could muster while they ploughed forward over an execrable road. + +The gateway of Orristown, when at last it was reached, looked mouldy +and forlorn in the chilly damp of the atmosphere; and as they plunged +up the avenue at the usual reckless pace, a perfect torrent of +rain-drops deluged them from the intersecting branches of the trees. +Yet despite the gloom and the discomfort, a thrill of something like +pleasure filled Milbanke as a whiff of pure, cold air brought the scent +of the sea to his nostrils, and the turn of the avenue showed the +square house, white and massive against the grey sky. + +But he was given little time to indulge in the pleasure of +reminiscence, for instantly the trap drew up, the hall door was thrown +open, showing a face and figure that sent everything but the moment and +the business in hand far from his mind. + +It was Clodagh who stood there waiting to greet him--Clodagh, curiously +changed and grown in the three years that had passed since their last +meeting. In place of the spirited, unformed child that he remembered, +Milbanke saw a very young girl, whose boyishness of figure had +disappeared in slight feminine curves, whose bright, fearless eyes had +softened into uncommon beauty. + +With a glow of relief lighting up her face, she stepped forward as the +horse halted, and, heedless of the rain that fell on her uncovered +head, laid one hand on the shaft of the trap. + +"Oh, it's good of you!--it's good of you!" she exclaimed. "We can never +forget it." + +Then the colour flooded her cheeks, and her eyes filled. + +"Oh, he's so bad!" she added. "It's so terrible to see him--so +terrible." + +She looked up with alarm and impotence into Milbanke's face. + +But it was not the guest, but old Burke who found words to calm her +fear and grief. Leaning down from his seat, he laid a rough hand on her +shoulder. + +"Whist now, Miss Clodagh!" he said softly--"whist now! Sure God is +good. While there's life there's hope. Don't be believin' anythin' +else. Sure, what is he but a young man yet?" + +"That's true, Burke--that's true!" Clodagh exclaimed quickly. "Won't +you come in, Mr. Milbanke?" she added. "You know how welcome you are." + +Once inside the hall, she turned to him quickly and confidingly. + +"I can never forget that you've done this," she said. "It's a really, +really generous thing. But all my mind is full of father. You can +understand, can't you?" + +Her agitation, her alarm, her evident helplessness in presence of a +contingency never previously faced, all touched him deeply. His tone +was low and gentle as he responded. + +"I understand perfectly--perfectly," he said. "Poor Denis! Poor Denis! +How did the thing occur?" + +"Oh, just an accident--just an accident. About six months ago he took a +fancy for riding late at night. He used to ride for miles along the +most dangerous paths of the cliff. I knew it wasn't safe; I said so +over and over again. But you know father!" She gave a little hopeless +shake of her head. "On Monday night he saddled one of the young horses +at about ten o'clock, and went out by himself. It came to twelve and he +hadn't returned. Then we began to get uneasy, and at one o'clock we +started to look for him. After a search all along the cliff, we found +him wedged between two of the upper ledges of the rocks, +terribly--terribly hurt." She shuddered palpably at the recollection. +"We didn't know--we don't know even now--quite how it happened. But we +think the horse must have lost his footing and fallen over the cliff, +throwing father; for the poor thing was found dead on the shingle next +morning. 'Twas a miracle that father escaped with his life, but he's +terribly injured." + +She paused again, as though the subject was too painful to be pursued. + +Milbanke looked at her compassionately. + +"Has he had proper medical advice?" he asked. + +"Oh yes! Doctor Gallagher from Carrigmore has done everything, and we +have a trained nurse from Waterford." + +"That's right. I must have a talk with the doctor. But how is Denis +now? Will he know me, do you think?" + +"Oh yes! Ever since the first night he has been quite conscious. He +expects you. He's longing to see you." + +"Then may I go to him?" + +Clodagh nodded; and, turning, led the way silently up the remembered +staircase. On the landing, the recollection of their curious interview +on his first night at Orristown recurred forcibly to Milbanke. He +glanced at his guide to see if it had any place in her mind; but her +thoughts were evidently full of other things. With a quick gesture that +enjoined silence, she led him down the corridor, upon which rough fibre +mats had been strewn to deaden sound. + +With that peculiar sensation of awe that serious illness always +engenders, he tip-toed after her, a sense of apprehensive depression +growing upon him with every step. As they neared the end of the +passage, a door opened noiselessly, and two figures emerged from a +darkened room. The taller of the two--a pale, emaciated woman, dressed +in mourning--was unknown to him; but a glance told him that the latter +was little Nance, grown to pretty, immature girlhood. + +On catching sight of him, she drew back with a passing touch of the old +shyness; but, conquering it almost directly, she came forward and shook +hands in silence. In the momentary greeting, he saw that her vivacious +little face was red and marred by tears; but before he had time for +further observation Clodagh touched his arm. + +"My aunt, Mrs. Asshlin!" she whispered. + +Milbanke bowed, and Mrs. Asshlin extended her hand. + +"We meet on a sad occasion, Mr. Milbanke," she murmured in a low, +querulous voice. "My poor brother-in-law was always such a rash man. +But with some people, you know, there is no such thing as +remonstrating. Even this morning when Mr. Curry, our rector from +Carrigmore, came to have a little talk with him, he was barely polite; +and it was only yesterday that we dared to tell him that Doctor +Gallagher insisted on having a nurse. Now, what can you do with a +patient like that?" + +Milbanke murmured something vaguely unintelligible; and Clodagh stirred +impatiently. + +"Did you give him the medicine, Aunt Fan?" she asked. + +"I did; but with great difficulty. My brother-in-law has always been +averse to medical aid," she explained to Milbanke. + +"He's never had any need of it," Clodagh whispered sharply. "Will you +come, Mr. Milbanke? He's quite alone. The nurse is resting." + +With great dignity Mrs. Asshlin moved away. + +"I shall ask Hannah to get me a cup of tea, Clodagh," she murmured. "I +get such a headache from a sick-room." + +Without replying, Clodagh turned again to Milbanke. + +"He's not to get excited," she whispered. "And mind--mind--don't say +that you think him looking badly." + +She paused and laid her fingers lightly on his arm; then with a swift +movement, she stepped forward, drawing him with her into the big, +darkened room with its sense of preternatural quiet, and its pungent, +suggestive smell of drugs and antiseptic dressings. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +With a strange blending of curiosity and shrinking, Milbanke obeyed the +pressure of Clodagh's hand, and moved forward into the room. The cold +March daylight was partly excluded by drawn blinds, but a glow from the +fire played upon the walls and the high four-post bedstead. + +With the same mingling of curiosity and dread, his eyes fell at once +upon this prominent article of furniture and remained fixed there in +doubt and incredulity. For the moment his senses refused to acknowledge +that the feverish, haggard face that stared at him from the pillows was +the face of Asshlin--Asshlin, tyrannical, passionate, greedy of life. + +In the hours of agony that he had passed through, the sick man's +features had become shrunken, causing his eyes to stare forth +preternaturally large and restless; his hair had been cropped close, to +allow of the dressing of a wound over the temple, and the tight white +bandages lent a strange and unfamiliar appearance to his finely shaped +head. With a sick sensation, Milbanke went slowly forward. + +The patient made no attempt to move as he drew near the bed, but his +feverishly bright glance seemed to devour his face. + +"Here he is, father!" Clodagh exclaimed softly and eagerly. "Here's Mr. +Milbanke! Now, aren't you happy? He's not able to move," she explained, +turning to the guest. "It gives him terrible agony to stir." + +Milbanke had reached the bed; and with a sensation of awkwardness and +impotence impossible to describe, he stood looking down upon Asshlin. + +"My poor Denis!" he said. "My poor, poor friend! This is a bad +business; I had no idea----" + +Then he paused confusedly, remembering Clodagh's warning. + +"But we'll see you laughing at it all before we're much older," he +added, in awkward haste to make amends. + +A gleam of something like irony crossed Asshlin's watchful eyes. + +"I'm done for this time, James!" he said feebly. "I suppose I've had my +day, and, like every other dog, must answer to the whistle. I don't +complain! I'm getting more than my deserts in seeing you again. You're +as welcome as the flowers in----" + +His voice failed. + +"I know--I know! Don't trouble! Don't try to speak!" Milbanke bent over +him anxiously. + +But Asshlin glanced back. + +"Ah, but that's what I must do, James!" he said sharply. "That's what I +want you for. I have something that must be said." + +Milbanke turned to Clodagh. + +"Is it right of him to excite himself?" he asked in distress. "If it's +anything that you reproach yourself with, Denis----" + +But Asshlin interrupted with a weak echo of his old intolerance. + +"Send Clo away!" he said. "There's something I want to say." + +Again Milbanke looked helplessly at Clodagh, but her eyes were fixed +passionately on her father's face. + +"He'll excite himself more if we cross him," she said hesitatingly. "I +think I'd better go." + +Still Milbanke hesitated. + +"But the doctor?" he hazarded. "If the doctor insists on quiet----" + +She glanced at him quickly, her clear eyes brimming. + +"Oh, I don't know!" she exclaimed; "I can't cross him--I can't cross +him! He's wanted you so badly." + +She turned quickly towards the bed. + +"Father," she said tenderly, "won't you promise not to talk much? Won't +you promise to take care?" + +For answer, Asshlin looked up, meeting her glance. + +"I'll promise, child--I'll promise. Run away now--and God bless you!" +He added the expressive native phrase in a suddenly lowered voice. + +Clodagh bent quickly and kissed his hot, drawn face with passionate +affection; then, as if fearing to trust herself, she turned hastily and +passed out of the room. + +Instantly the two men were alone, Asshlin turned to his guest. + +"James," he said agitatedly, "I haven't thought much about the Almighty +in these last years; but I give you my word, I have prayed that I might +see you before I die." + +"My dear Denis, don't! I beg you not to excite yourself. I implore +you----" + +Asshlin made a harsh sound of impatience. + +"Don't waste breath over a dying man," he said roughly. Then, seeing +the distress in the other's face, he altered his tone. "Don't take it +to heart, James! It's the road we must all travel. They think there's +life in me yet, but I know better. You may blindfold a sheep as much as +you like, but 'twill know that you're dragging it to the slaughter. I +tell you I'm done for--as done for as if the undertaker had measured me +for the coffin." + +He moved his head slightly and painfully, his feverish glance +brightening. + +"James," he exclaimed suddenly, "I'm in a terrible position! But +'tisn't death that's troubling me." + +"Denis!" + +"'Tis true! I'm not frightened of death--I hope I'm man enough to face +a natural law. 'Twould have been better if I'd had to face it thirty +years ago." + +"Denis, don't! I beg you to keep quiet----" + +"Quiet? I tell you there's not much quiet for a man like me. 'Tisn't +what I'm going to that's troubling me, but what I'm leaving behind. +I'll be paying me own score on the other side; but here 'tis others +will be paying it for me." + +His burning eyes fixed themselves on Milbanke's. + +"But, my dear old friend----" + +"Don't talk to me, James! Don't waste words on me. I'm broke inside and +out. I'm smashed. I'm done for." A spasm of pain, mental and physical, +twisted his features. "The weak, worthless egotist has come to the end +of his rope!" He tried to laugh. + +Milbanke, in deep apprehension, laid his hand lightly on his shoulder. + +"Denis," he pleaded, "don't talk like this! Don't torture yourself like +this!" + +Asshlin groaned. + +"'Tis involuntary!" he cried. "'Tis wrung from me. Every time they come +into the room--every time I see the tears in their eyes--every time +they kiss me, I tell you I taste hell." + +"Who?" + +"The children. My children." Another spasm crossed his face. "You once +told me I was not fit to have children, James--and you were right. By +God, you were right!" + +"Denis, I refuse to listen. I insist--I----" + +"Don't bother yourself! 'Tisn't of my damned health I'm thinking." + +"Then what is it? What is troubling you?" + +"The children--the children. I've been a blackguard, James--a +blackguard." He moved his head sharply, regardless of the agony the +movement caused. "I tell you I don't care what's before myself. I've +always been a reckless fool. But 'tis the children--the children." + +"What of the children?" + +A sound of mockery and despair escaped Asshlin. + +"Ah, you may well ask!" he said--"you may well ask! 'Tis the question +I've been putting to myself every hour since they laid me here. You +know the world, James. You know what the world will be to two pretty, +penniless girls. And they're so unconscious of it all! That's the sting +of it. They're so unconscious of it all! They care for me; they cling +to me as if I were a good man, and in five years' time they may be +cursing the hour they were born." A fresh groan was wrung from him. + +A look of apprehension crossed Milbanke's face. + +"Oh no, Denis!" he exclaimed quickly. "No. Things can't be as bad as +that. Your suffering has told upon your nerves. Things can't be as bad +as that." + +"They are worse. I tell you these two children will face life without a +penny." + +"No, no! You exaggerate. Why, even if you were to die they would still +have the place. The place must be worth something." + +"Ah, if I could only drug my conscience with that thought! But I +can't--I can't! Before I'm cold in my grave my creditors will be down +on the property like a swarm of rats." + +"No, no!" + +"Yes! I tell you yes! The children will be homeless as well as +penniless." + +Milbanke glanced about him in deep perplexity. + +"There's your sister-in-law," he hazarded at length. + +"Fan?" Asshlin made a contemptuous grimace. "Fan is as poor as a church +mouse already. Laurence had nothing to leave her: the Navy beggared +him. No, Fan could do nothing for them. And, anyway, she and Clodagh +couldn't stand each other for a twelvemonth. You might as well try to +blend fire and water. No, there's no way out of it. I'm reaping the +whirlwind, James. I'm reaping it with a vengeance." + +The fever of his suffering and the excitement of his remorse were +burning in his eyes. In the three days of his illness his natural +exuberance of mind had been directed towards one point--the tardily +aroused knowledge of the future that awaited his children. And the +consequence had been a piteous intermingling of realisation and partial +delirium. His agony and helplessness were pitiable as he turned to his +friend. + +"What am I to do, James?" he asked--"what am I to do?" + +Milbanke bent over him. + +"Denis! Denis!" he pleaded. + +"But what am I to do? Advise me while there's time. 'Tis for that I've +wanted you. You've always been a good man. What must I do?" + +Milbanke tightened his lips. + +"You have friends," he said. + +"Ah! but how many? And where?" + +There was no response for a moment, as Milbanke slowly straightened +himself and glanced across the room towards the fire. Then very quietly +he turned towards the bed. + +"You have one--here," he said in a low voice. + +For an instant Asshlin answered nothing; then an odd sound--something +between a laugh and a sob--shook him. + +"James!" he cried. "James!" + +But Milbanke leant forward hastily. + +"Not a word!" he said. "Not one word! If thanks are due, it is from me +to you. It is not every day that human responsibilities fall to an old +bachelor of my age." + +Asshlin remained silent. Dissipated, blunted, degenerate though he +might be, his native intuition was unimpaired; and in a flash of +illumination he saw the grade of nobility, the high point of honour to +which this prosaic, unimaginative man had attained in that moment of +need. With a pang of acute pain, he freed his uninjured arm and +shakingly held out his hand. + +"There are no friends like the old friends, James!" he said in a broken +voice. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Asshlin scarcely spoke again during the early portion of that day. The +immense effort of his explanation to Milbanke left him correspondingly +weak; though through all his exhaustion, a look of peace and +satisfaction was visible in his eyes. + +During the whole morning Milbanke remained at his bedside, only leaving +the room to partake--at Clodagh's urgent request--of a hurried meal in +the deserted dining-room. At twelve o'clock the nurse resumed her +duties, and soon afterwards the dispensary doctor from Carrigmore drove +over to see his patient. Before he came into the sick-room Milbanke +left it; but when--his examination over--he departed with a whispered +injunction to the nurse, he found the stranger waiting for him in the +corridor. + +Milbanke stepped forward as he appeared, and silently motioned him down +the passage to his own room, inviting him to enter with a punctilious +gesture. + +"Doctor Gallagher, I believe?" he said. "Allow me to introduce myself. +My name is Milbanke. I am a very old friend of your patient." + +With a slow but friendly gesture, the young man held out his hand. + +"Oh, I know all about you!" he said. "I'm glad to make your +acquaintance." + +His voice, with its marked Irish accent, was soft and pleasant, and his +glance was good-natured; but his tanned skin and rough shooting-suit +suggested the sportsman rather than the medical practitioner. + +Milbanke eyed him quickly. + +"Then you won't misunderstand anything I may say?" + +Gallagher smiled. + +"Not a bit of it!" he answered nonchalantly. "And what's more, I think +I know what it's going to be." + +A shade of confusion passed over the Englishman's face. His +understanding was still unattuned to the half-shrewd, half-inquisitive +tendencies of the Irish mind. With a shadowy suspicion that he was +being unobtrusively ridiculed, he became a degree colder. + +"I am grieved beyond measure at Mr. Asshlin's condition, Doctor +Gallagher," he said, "and it has struck me--it has been suggested to my +mind that possibly----" He stopped uncertainly. "That possibly----" + +"That perhaps there ought to be another opinion?" Gallagher looked at +him complacently. "Well, maybe you're right. 'Tisn't because _I_ +condemn him that he shouldn't appeal to a higher court." + +Milbanke started. + +"Then you think poorly of his chances?" + +Gallagher shook his head expressively. + +"You despair of him?" + +A pang of unexpected grief touched Milbanke. He realised suddenly how +distant, vague, and yet how real a part the ideal of his youth had +played in his life and thoughts; how deep a niche, unknown to them +both, Asshlin had carved for himself. With a sense of loss altogether +disproportionate to circumstances, he turned again to the doctor. + +"Yes, I should like another opinion," he said quickly. "The best we can +get--the best in Ireland. We can't get a man from town sooner than +to-morrow, and time is everything. I suppose Dublin is the place to +wire to? Not that I am disparaging you," he added. "I feel confident +you have done everything." + +Gallagher smiled. + +"Oh, I'm not taking offence. It's only human nature to think what you +do. I'll meet any one you like to name. But he'll say the same as me." + +"And that is?" + +"That he's done for." Gallagher lowered his voice. "He hasn't the +stamina to pull through, even if we could patch him up. He's been +undermining that big frame of his for the last ten years. No man +nowadays can sit up half the night drinking port without paying heavily +for it. Many a time, driving home from a late call, I've seen the light +in these windows at three in the morning." + +Milbanke pulled out his watch. + +"But these Dublin doctors," he said. "Tell me their names." + +Gallagher pondered a moment. + +"Well, there's Dowden-Gregg and Merrick," he said. "And of course +there's Molyneaux. Molyneaux is a magnificent surgeon. If any man in +Ireland can make a suggestion, he will. But of course his fee----" + +Milbanke interrupted sharply. + +"Molyneaux let it be," he said decisively. "Wire for him when you get +back to Carrigmore. Wire urgently. The expenses will be my affair. What +they may amount to is of no consideration." + +A look of involuntary respect crossed Gallagher's face. + +"I understand," he said. "I'll wire at once. And you can comfort +yourself that you'll have the best opinion in the country." + +He nodded genially, the new considerations for Milbanke tinging his +usually careless manner; and with an inaudible word of farewell, turned +on his heel. + +Once alone, Milbanke went in search of Clodagh. He suffered no small +trepidation at the thought of communicating his action to her, and he +bestowed much silent consideration upon the manner in which he should +couch his information. Failing to find her in the house, he wandered +out into the grounds. The rain had ceased, and a watery gleam of +sunshine was falling on the wet gravel of the drive. Picking his way +carefully, he turned in the direction of the yard; but he had scarcely +reached it, when Clodagh's clear voice reached him, directing Burke as +to some provisions required from Muskeere. + +On seeing her guest, she came forward at once. Her face looked brighter +and happier than he had seen it since his arrival. Her mercurial nature +had responded instantly to the apparent change in Asshlin. + +"Oh, isn't it lovely that he's so much better?" she cried. "You must +have the gift of healing; it's like as if you had set a charm." + +Milbanke made no response. + +"Why don't you say something?" she asked quickly. "Don't you think he's +better? Doesn't the doctor think he's better?" + +Her quick mind sprang like lightning from one conclusion to another. + +"Mr. Milbanke," she added, "you're keeping something back! There's +something you don't like to say!" + +Then at last Milbanke found voice. + +"Indeed no, Miss Clodagh. You are wrong--quite wrong, believe me. There +is nothing to be alarmed at--nothing. It is only----" + +"Only what?" + +"Now don't be alarmed! I beg you not to be alarmed!" The sudden +whiteness that had overspread her face unnerved him. "It is only that +I, as a Londoner, am a little doubtful of your village doctor. A mere +prejudice, I know. But Gallagher is broadminded and willing to humour +me. And he--I--that is, we both think that another opinion will do no +harm. It's nothing to be alarmed at. Nothing, believe me! A mere +formality." + +But Clodagh's lips had paled. She stood looking at him silently, her +large, questioning eyes reminding him disconcertingly of Asshlin's. + +"Miss Clodagh," he said again, "don't be alarmed!--don't be alarmed! +It's only to satisfy an old sceptic----" + +"Oh no, it isn't!" she said suddenly. "Oh no, it isn't! I know--I know +quite well. It means that he's going to die." + +Her voice caught; and, with a swift movement, she turned and fled out +of the yard, leaving Milbanke pained, bewildered, and alarmed. + + +The afternoon passed in weary, monotonous waiting. Half an hour after +the conversation in the yard, Clodagh appeared in her father's room. +She was pale and subdued, and her eyelids looked suspiciously red, but +she took her place quietly at the foot of the bed. She sat very still, +her eyes fixed on Asshlin's face, apparently heedless of both the +nurse's deft movements and Milbanke's silent, unobtrusive presence. At +three o'clock the acute pains that had tormented the patient at +intervals ever since the accident had occurred, returned with a +violence that seemed accentuated by the respite he had obtained during +the morning. For an hour or more he writhed and groaned in unspeakable +agony, while those about him suffered a reflected torment, and chafed +impotently at the distance that cut off Carrigmore and the possibility +of any fresh medical relief. The nurse was unceasingly vigilant; but +the mild and cautious remedies ordered by Gallagher were powerless to +soothe the violent pain. At last Nature mercifully intervened, and the +exhausted sufferer fell into a sleep that lasted for several hours. + +At seven o'clock there was a stir of excitement through the house, as +the whisper passed from one to another that the Dublin surgeon had +arrived. When the news reached the sick-room, Milbanke drew a breath of +intense relief; but Clodagh's pale face went a shade whiter. + +The great man arrived attended by Gallagher, and was shown directly to +the patient's room. There was a confused moment of introduction; then +Milbanke and Clodagh slipped quietly into the passage, leaving the +doctors and nurse to their work. + +During a long interval of indescribable suspense Molyneaux made his +examination. Then, without a word, he and Gallagher emerged from the +room and descended solemnly into the dining-room. + +While this final conference lasted Clodagh--who had returned to her +vigil immediately the doctors had left the sick-room--sat silent and +motionless beside the bed; outside in the corridor, Mrs. Asshlin +wandered to and fro, weakly tearful and agitated, while Nance stood +beside her father's door, afraid to enter and yet reluctant to remain +outside. Downstairs in the hall, Milbanke paced up and down in nervous +perturbation, awaiting his summons to the conclave. + +At last the door opened, and Gallagher looked out. + +"Mr. Milbanke," he said, "Doctor Molyneaux would like to see you." + +With a little start of agitation Milbanke went forward. + +In the dining-room a great peat fire was burning as usual, lighting up +the faces of Asshlin's ancestors; but the candles in the silver sconces +were unlighted and the window curtains had not been drawn. In the dull +light from the three long windows the large, placid face of Molyneaux +looked preternaturally long and solemn. Milbanke felt his heart sink. + +In formal silence the great man rose and motioned him forward, and the +three sat down at the centre table. + +"Mr. Milbanke," he began in slow and unctuous tones, "I suppose you +would like me to come to the point with as little delay as possible? +Professional details will not interest you." + +Milbanke nodded mechanically. + +Molyneaux hesitated, studying his well-kept hands; then he looked up +with the decorous reserve proper to the occasion. + +"I regret to inform you, Mr. Milbanke," he said softly, "that my visit +is of little--I might say of no--avail. Doctor--er--Gallagher's +diagnosis of the case is satisfactory--perfectly satisfactory. Beyond +mitigating his sufferings, I fear we can do nothing for our poor +friend." + +"Nothing!" Milbanke felt a sudden dryness in his throat. + +Molyneaux shook his head with becoming gravity. + +"Nothing, Mr. Milbanke. The injuries to the ribs and hip we might have +coped with, but the seat of the trouble lies deeper. The internal----" + +But Milbanke held up his hand. + +"I beg you to give me no details," he said weakly. "This--this is a +great shock to me." + +He covered his face with his hands and sat silent for a few seconds. + +Molyneaux tapped lightly upon the table with his finger-tips. + +"It was merely that your mind might be fully satisfied, Mr. +Milbanke----" he said a trifle pompously. + +Milbanke started. + +"Forgive me! I understand--I fully understand. It is only the thought +of what lies before us--the thought of his children's grief----" + +Molyneaux made a gracious gesture of comprehension. + +"Ah, yes," he murmured. "Very distressing! Most distressing!" + +He looked vaguely round the room; and Gallagher, as if anticipating his +thought, pulled out his watch. + +Milbanke rose quickly. + +"I thank you very much, Doctor Molyneaux," he said, "for your--your +valuable opinion. I think Miss Asshlin wishes to know if your train +will permit you to partake of some dinner before you leave us?" + +Molyneaux smiled with the air of a man who has put an unpleasant duty +aside. + +"Ah, thank you!" he said suavely. "Thank you! If Doctor--Gallagher +gives me permission I shall be charmed. He understands your local +time-tables, and has promised that I shall catch the night mail to +Dublin." + +He smiled again and glanced genially round the firelit room. + +"What interesting family portraits our poor friend possesses!" he added +with pleasant affability. + +But Milbanke did not seem to hear. + +"If you will excuse me for a moment," he said hastily, "I will see that +you are caused no unnecessary delay. You can understand that we--that +we are a somewhat demoralised household." + +His voice was agitated, his step uneven as he crossed the room and +passed into the hall. + +Molyneaux followed him with a conventional glance of sympathy; then his +eyes turned again to the pictures with the gratified glance of a +dilettante. + +"Do you happen to know if this is a Reynolds?" he said to Gallagher, +rising and crossing the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +To the last day of his life, that evening, with its horde of harassing +and unfamiliar sensations, remained stamped upon Milbanke's mind; and +not least among the unpleasant recollections was the visit of +Molyneaux, and the dinner at which he himself unwillingly played host. + +It may have been that his usually placid susceptibilities had undergone +a strain that rendered him over sensitive; but whatever the cause, the +atmosphere diffused by the great man jarred upon him. In his eyes, it +seemed little short of callous that one who had just passed sentence of +death upon his patient could so far remain unmoved as to partake with +relish of the dinner set before him, and comment with affable +appreciation upon the quality of the patient's wines. + +Milbanke spoke little during the course of that meal. Try as he might +to enact the part entrusted to him, his thoughts persistently wandered +to the room upstairs, with its doomed sufferer and its anxious +watchers, as yet mercifully ignorant of the verdict that had been +pronounced. But if the host was silent, the guests made conversation. +Gallagher was assiduous in his attentions to the man who, in his eyes, +stood for the attainment of all ambition; and Molyneaux--under the +unlooked-for stimulus of good, if homely food and wines that even as an +epicure he admitted to be remarkable--was graciously pleased to accept +the homage of his humble colleague, and to display a suave glimpse of +the polished wit for which he was noted in society. + +His expressions of regret were perfectly genuine when at last the sound +of wheels on the gravel of the drive broke in upon his discourse, and +Gallagher deprecatingly drew out his watch. + +"The way of the world, Mr. Milbanke!" he murmured as he rose. "Our +pleasantest acquaintances end the soonest. I must wish you +good-bye--with many thanks for your delightful hospitality. So far as +our poor friend is concerned," he added, in a correctly altered tone, +"Doctor Gallagher may be relied upon to do everything. In a case like +this, where physical pain is recurrent and violent, we can only have +recourse to narcotics. We have already allayed the suffering consequent +on my examination and you may rely upon some hours of calm; for any +subsequent contingency Doctor Gallagher has my instructions. Of course, +if you wish me to have one more glimpse at him before I go----" + +But Milbanke, who had also risen, held out his hand mechanically. + +"Oh no," he said quietly. "No, thank you! I don't think we will trouble +you any further. It has been a great satisfaction to have obtained +your--your opinion." + +Molyneaux waved his hand magnanimously. + +"Do not mention it!" he murmured. "My regret is deep that I have been +of so little avail. Good-bye again, Mr. Milbanke! It has been an honour +as well as a pleasure to meet you." + +He smiled blandly, and added the last remark as Gallagher solicitously +helped him into his furlined travelling coat. Then, still suavely +genial, he passed out of the dining-room towards the hall door. + +Gallagher hurried after him, but, in passing Milbanke, he paused. + +"I'll be back in an hour, Mr. Milbanke," he said. "I'm just going as +far as Carrigmore with Doctor Molyneaux to get an additional supply of +morphia." + +Milbanke nodded silently, and in his turn stepped into the hall. + +When the two men had entered the waiting vehicle, when Molyneaux had +waved a courtly farewell and the coachman had gathered up the reins, he +turned and slowly began to mount the stairs. + +Instantly his foot touched the landing, Mrs. Asshlin darted from the +shadowy corridor. + +"What news?" she asked agitatedly. "Oh, Mr. Milbanke, what news? The +suspense has been dreadful." + +Her voice trembled. Tears came very easily to Mrs. Asshlin, and her +habitual attitude of mourning had heretofore irritated Milbanke. But +now her thin face and faded black garments came as a curiously welcome +contrast to the bland affluence, the genial, complacent superiority of +Molyneaux. He turned to her with a feeling of warmth. + +"Forgive my delay, Mrs. Asshlin!" he said gently. "One is never in a +hurry to impart bad news. Doctor Molyneaux holds out no hope--not a +shadow of hope." + +There was a pause; then Mrs. Asshlin made a tragic gesture. + +"Oh, the children!" she murmured. "The poor, poor children! What will +become of them?" + +"The children will be provided for," Milbanke said hastily. Then, +without giving her time for question or astonishment, he went on again: + +"Don't say anything of this to Clodagh," he enjoined. "She must have +these last hours in peace." + +"Certainly--certainly! Poor Denis! Poor Denis! I always said he would +have an unfortunate end. But go in and see him, Mr. Milbanke. Clodagh +is in the room." + +Milbanke silently acquiesced, and moved slowly down the corridor. + +At the door of her father's room, he found Nance still patiently +watchful. He paused, arrested by his new sense of obligation, and +looked down into the upturned, wistful little face. + +"What are you doing here, Nance?" he asked kindly. + +She made a valiant attempt to conjure up her pretty, winning smile, but +her lips began to tremble. + +"I don't know!" she said shyly and softly; then in a sudden burst of +confidence she stepped close to him. "Clo doesn't like me to go in," +she murmured. "She thinks it makes me sad to see father; and I don't +know where to go. I'd be in Hannah's way in the kitchen, and I don't +like being with Aunt Fan, and--and I'm frightened to be by myself. +There's a horrid sort of feel in the house." + +Her dark blue eyes searched Milbanke's face appealingly; and with a +sensation of pity and protection, he stooped and took one of her cold, +limp hands. + +"You may come in," he said gently. "It is very lonely out here. I think +we can make Clodagh understand." + +Without hesitation her fingers closed round his in a movement of +confidence and gratitude, and together they passed into the room where +Asshlin lay peacefully under the influence of the narcotic administered +by Molyneaux. By Gallagher's orders the nurse--who had been deprived of +her necessary rest in the morning--had retired to her room again in +preparation for the night, and only Clodagh was in attendance. Having +quietly closed the door, Milbanke halted hesitatingly, expecting a +flood of questions. But to his intense surprise she did not even glance +in his direction. She sat motionless and pale, her eyes on her father's +face, her attitude stiff and almost defiant. He wondered for a moment +whether, by the power of instinct, she had divined Molyneaux's verdict, +or whether, through some source unknown to him, the news of it had +already reached her. With a sense of trepidation, he tightened his +fingers round Nance's small hand, and drew her silently into a corner +of the room. + +For more than an hour the three watchers sat regarding their patient. +No one attempted to speak--no one appeared to have anything to say. +Once or twice Mrs. Asshlin flitted agitatedly in and out of the room, +but none of them took heed of her presence. Occasionally a clock struck +in the silent house or a cinder fell from the fire, causing them all to +start nervously. But, except for these interruptions, the quiet was +preternatural. + +It was with a throb of relief at his heart that Milbanke at last caught +the sound of Gallagher's horse trotting up the avenue, and knew by the +shutting of the hall door that the doctor had entered the house. + +He walked into the sick-room a few minutes later, and with a casual nod +to all present, moved at once to the bed. + +Bending over Asshlin, he felt his pulse, then glanced significantly at +Milbanke, who had risen on his entrance. + +"I think we must inject a stimulant," he said. "The pulse is a little +weak." + +With a faint sound of consternation Clodagh stood up. + +"Oh, he's not worse?" she said. "Doctor Gallagher, he's not worse?" + +Gallagher looked at her, and his expression changed. The distress of a +pretty girl is always difficult to resist. + +"No, Miss Asshlin," he said kindly. "No. You see, he has gone through a +lot. We must expect him to be weak." + +Clodagh looked relieved, though the alarm still lingered in her eyes. + +"Of course," she said. "Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do?" + +Gallagher glanced at her again. + +"Well," he said quietly, "perhaps you will call the nurse for me? +There's no real need for her, but it is just as well we should have her +on the spot." + +Again Clodagh's eyes darkened with apprehension, but she made no +remark. Signalling to Nance to follow her, she left the room. + +As the two girls disappeared, Gallagher bent again over Asshlin, making +another rapid examination; then once more he glanced up at Milbanke. + +"He may not last the night," he said below his breath. "Molyneaux +expected that it wouldn't be a long business, but we didn't look for +the change so soon as this." + +Milbanke did not alter his position. + +"You'll stay on, of course?" he said mechanically. + +"Yes. Oh yes, I'll stay on!" + +As he said the last word Clodagh reappeared. + +"The nurse will be here in a minute," she said in a steady voice. + + +The unrelaxed, monotonous vigil lasted until two o'clock; then, as +Asshlin showed a disposition to rally, the doctor asserted his +authority, and dismissed Mrs. Asshlin, Nance, and Milbanke for a +much-needed rest--Clodagh alone refusing to leave the room. + +Though he would not have admitted it, the command came as a boon to +Milbanke. His long and arduous journey, coupled with the strain and +excitement of the day and evening, had culminated in intense weariness; +and when Gallagher's order came, it would have been a superhuman effort +to offer any protest. + +Reaching his room, he took off his boots, and, partially undressing, +threw himself upon his bed. + +How many hours he slept the deep sleep of utter exhaustion he did not +know. His first effort at awaking consciousness was a thrill of nervous +fright that made him sit up in bed, aware with a sudden shock that some +one was knocking imperatively on his door and calling him by name in +low, agitated tones. + +"Mr. Milbanke! Mr. Milbanke! Wake, please! Quick! Mr. Milbanke!" + +He stared into the darkness for an instant in dazed apprehension; then +he slid out of bed, fumbling blindly for his dressing-gown. + +"Coming!" he called. "Coming!" + +Having found the garment, he crossed the room stumblingly, thrusting +his arms into the sleeves as he went. + +Opening the door, he realised the situation with a sick sinking of the +heart. Clodagh stood in the corridor with a blanched face, holding a +candle in her shaking hand. + +"Oh, come, please!" she exclaimed. "Come quick!" + +Without a word he stepped forward, and the two hurried down the +passage. + +In the sick-room the fire was glowing and additional candles had been +lighted. For a second Milbanke paused at the door; then, as his eyes +grew accustomed to the access of light, the scene became clear to him. +On the bed lay Asshlin, his head partly propped up by pillows, his eyes +wide, his breath coming in slow, difficult gasps; Gallagher was moving +about the room with more quickness and deftness than the Englishman +could have believed possible; Mrs. Asshlin, unnerved, and yet +fascinated, leaned upon the end of the bed; while Nance--crying +silently--followed the nurse to and fro in dazed, half-comprehending +fear; and Hannah, the household factotum, crouched behind the door, +weeping and murmuring inarticulate prayers. + +The picture turned Milbanke cold. With an instinctive gesture he +paused, with the intention of shielding it from Clodagh's sight. But at +the very moment that he turned towards her, a convulsion shook the +dying man. He half-lifted himself in bed, his eyes staring wildly; as +Gallagher rushed forward, a faint sound escaped him, his head fell +forward, and his body collapsed in the doctor's arms. + +There was a breathless, appalled silence--a silence that seemed to +extend over years. At last Gallagher looked up. + +"It's all over," he said in a hushed voice. + +For a minute no one spoke, no one moved. It seemed as if the whole room +was petrified. Then Gallagher quietly laid the body back upon the +pillows, and as though the action broke the spell, Clodagh gave a +sudden sharp cry and ran forward to the bed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The three days that followed Asshlin's death resolved themselves into +so many hours of gloom and confusion, that found their culmination in +the funeral ceremony. + +To Irishmen of every class, a funeral is invested with an almost +symbolic importance, and a solemn consideration is bestowed upon its +most minute details. And Milbanke, deeply imbued with the horror and +suddenness of the whole disaster, was filled with a growing +astonishment at the numberless preliminaries--the amount of precedence +and prestige requiring consideration--before one poor human body could +be hidden away. But he rose dutifully to the occasion and proved +himself unfailingly patient and conscientious in every emergency, from +the first repugnant interview with the undertaker to the woeful +breakfast, partaken of in the early hours of the funeral morning, with +the curtains drawn across the dining-room windows and the candles in +the massive silver sconces shedding an unnatural light upon the table +laden with eatables. + +The guests who partook of this meal were men of varied and interesting +types; but whatever their characteristic differences, it was remarkable +that the same air of responsibility and solemnity inspired them all. It +did not matter that many of them had been personal enemies of the dead +man; that many, with that jealous distrust of unconventionality that +reigns in Ireland, had markedly drawn away from him in the last ten +years of his life; death had obliterated everything. Asshlin's +eccentricities, his lawlessness, his contempt for the little world in +which he lived were all forgotten. He was one of themselves--deserving, +in death at least, the same consideration that the county had bestowed +upon his father, his grandfather, and those who had gone before them. + +The faces of these men were unfamiliar to Milbanke, though each on +entering the dining-room shook him cordially and sympathetically by the +hand. The meal was partaken of almost in silence; and it was with +obvious relief that, one after another, the members of the party rose +from table and passed into the darkened hall, and from thence to the +sweep of gravelled drive that fronted the house, where the less +privileged of those who had come to do Asshlin honour lounged singly or +in groups. + +The funeral was timed to start at nine; but the concourse of +mourners--well accustomed to the delays inevitable on such an +occasion--evinced no sigh of impatience when half-past nine, and then +ten arrived, and no move had yet been made. + +But all things come to those who understand the art of patience. At a +quarter past ten a thrill galvanised the lethargic crowd; and with the +recognition of the great moment for which they waited, the men began to +jostle each other and push forward towards the house, while all hats +were respectively removed. + +A faint murmur of admiration and awe went up from the gathering as the +great brass-bound coffin was borne solemnly through the door and laid +upon the open bier. In silence Milbanke and young Laurence Asshlin took +their places as chief mourners, and with the inevitable confusion and +uncertainty of such a moment, the crowd of men and vehicles formed up +behind them, the horses under the bier moved slowly forward, and the +body of Denis Asshlin passed for the last time down the avenue and +through the gates of Orristown. + + +The funeral over, Milbanke walked back from Carrigmore alone. The +servants, who had followed their master to his resting-place in the old +graveyard, had remained in the village to enjoy the importance that the +occasion lent them; young Asshlin had disappeared at the conclusion of +the burial service; while the daughters and sister-in-law of the dead +man--in accordance with the custom of the country--had remained +secluded in their own rooms at Orristown, appearing neither at the +breakfast nor the funeral. + +In a house of death, the hours that succeed the burial are, if +possible, even more melancholy than those that precede it. The +sensations of awe and responsibility have been dispersed, but as yet it +is impossible to resume the commonplace routine of life. As Milbanke +passed through the gateway and walked up the drive, ploughed into new +furrows by the long procession of cars that had followed the coffin, he +was deeply sensitive to this impression; and it fell upon him afresh +with a chill of desolation as he entered the door, still standing open, +and moved slowly across the deserted hall. + +In the dining-room the curtains had been drawn back and the candles +extinguished; but the daylight seemed to fall tardily and unnaturally +upon the room after its three days' exclusion. He stood for a moment +looking at the debris of the breakfast that had not yet been removed, +at the disarray of the chairs that had been hurriedly vacated; then, +with a fresh and poignant sense of loss and loneliness, he turned +hastily and walked out of the room. + +In the hall he attempted to pause afresh; but the sound of muffled +sobbing from the upper portion of the house sent him incontinently +forth into the open. With an overwhelming desire for human +fellowship--for any companionship in this abode of desolation, he +passed without consideration of his dignity round the corner of the +house in the direction of the stable-yard. + +He walked calmly, but there was a pucker of anxiety on his usually +placid brow--an expression of concern, apart from actual sorrow, in his +tightly set lips. To the most casual observer it would have been +obvious that something weighed upon his mind. + +Still moving with his habitual precision, he entered the yard by the +arched gateway, picking his way between the scattered array of rubbish, +food, and implements that encumbered the ground. + +When he appeared, a dozen rough or glossy heads were thrust out of +kennels or outhouses, as the dogs accorded him a noisy welcome; but +paying only partial heed to their demonstrations, he passed on to the +vast coach-house, with the vague hope that some labourer connected with +the farm or stables might possibly have been left behind in the general +exodus. But here again he was doomed to disappointment. The +coach-house, with its walls festooned with rotting harness, its ghostly +row of cumbersome antiquated vehicles, was as empty of human presence +as the yard itself. + +Conscious of the isolation that hung over the place--disproportionately +aware of his own aimlessness, he stood uncertain in what direction to +turn. For the moment, the household had no need of him; there were no +legal formalities to succeed the funeral, Asshlin having left no will; +and of personal duties he had none to claim his attention. + +He stood by the coach-house door woefully undecided as to his next +move, when all at once relief came to him from the most unexpected +quarter of the outbuildings. One of the dairy windows was opened +sharply, and a head was thrust through the aperture. + +"Wisha, what is it you're doin' there, sir?" a voice demanded kindly. +"Sure that ould yard is no fit place for you!" + +Turning hastily, Milbanke saw the broad, plain face of Hannah; her +small eyes red, her rough cheeks stained with weeping. + +"Why, Hannah!" he exclaimed, "what are you doing here? I thought you +were at the funeral." + +Hannah passed the back of her hand across her eyes. + +"Wisha, what would I be doin' at it?" she demanded huskily. "Sure I +don't know what they do be seein' in funerals at all." + +Milbanke glanced up with interest, recognising the originality of the +remark. + +"Why, you and I are of the same opinion," he said. "The Celtic delight +in the obsequies of a friend has been puzzling me for the last three +days----" Then he paused suddenly, conscious of Hannah's fixed regard. +"That is," he substituted quickly--"that is, I have been wondering, +like you, what they see in it." + +Hannah's small, observant eyes did not waver in their scrutiny. + +"You've been wonderin' about somethin', sure enough!" she said. "I seen +it meself every time I'd be carryin' in the dinner or doin' a turn for +the poor corpse. God be good to him this holy and blessed day!" Again +she wiped her eyes. "But 'tisn't wonderin' alone that's at you," she +added more briskly. "'Tis some other thing that's lyin' heavy on your +mind. I seen it meself at every hand's turn." + +Milbanke started. This sympathetic onslaught was as disconcerting as it +was unexpected. + +"I--I won't contradict you, Hannah," he said waveringly. "No doubt you +are right." + +For the space of a minute Hannah was profoundly silent; then she +broached the subject that had been filling her mind for a day and a +half. + +"Wisha, now, is it thrue what they do be tellin' me?" she asked softly +and warily--"that you're goin' to be father and mother an' all to thim +two poor children?" + +Again Milbanke started almost guiltily; then the personal anxiety that +mingled with and almost dominated his grief for Asshlin rose +irrepressibly in response to the persuasive tones, the kindly human +interest and curiosity. + +"Yes, Hannah," he said quickly. "Yes, it is my intention to try and +fill my poor friend's place." + +The tears welled suddenly into Hannah's eyes, and with an awkward +movement she wiped her rough hand in her apron and held it out. + +"God Almighty will give it back to you, sir!" she exclaimed, with +impulsive fervour. + +Strangely touched by the expression of understanding and appreciation, +he responded to the gesture and took her hand. + +But instantly she withdrew it. + +"Don't be mindin' an ould woman like me, sir," she said deprecatingly. +"'Twas the thought of the children that come over me. I couldn't help +it. I had the both of thim in me arms before they could cry. Small +wonder me heart would be in thim! Many's the sad day I put over me, +thinkin' what would become of them, wid the poor masther goin' to the +bad. God forgive me for sayin' it! And sure now 'tis all settled and +done for--and the heavth of it off of our minds. Praise be to God!" + +She paused to dry her tears. + +"And what would you be thinkin' to do wid thim?" she asked presently in +a new and more personal tone. + +Milbanke did not answer at once. His eyes strayed uneasily from one +object in the yard to another, while the frown of perplexity that had +puckered his brow since Asshlin's death reappeared more prominently +than before. At last, with a certain expression of puzzled resolution, +he looked up and met Hannah's attentive gaze. + +"To tell you the truth, Hannah," he said, "that is the precise question +I have been asking myself ever since your poor master died." + +There was a wait of some seconds while his listener digested the +information; then she nodded her head with slow impressiveness. + +"I seen it meself," she said again. "Sure, I seen it as plain as +daylight. 'There's somethin' on his mind,' I says to meself. An' if it +isn't the poor masther's death,' I says, 'thin it's nothin' more nor +less than the natural feelin's of a single gentleman that finds himself +wid two grown daughters.'" + +It was characteristic of Milbanke that he did not smile. He recognised +only one fact in the old servant's words--the fact that the state of +affairs over which he had been worrying in lonely perplexity had +suddenly been accurately, if roughly, voiced by some one else. He +glanced up with quick relief into the round, red face framed in the +dairy window. + +"Hannah," he said honestly, "your surmise was perfectly correct." + +For the first time a smile broke over her tear-stained face. + +"I was right thin? 'Tis the children was troublin' you?" + +A sharp gleam of inquiry shot from her eyes. + +"Yes," he answered simply. + +"An' why, now?" Again her tone changed, the irrepressible undercurrent +of native humour, native inquisitiveness and familiarity welling out +unconsciously. "Sure, they're good children." + +"I do not doubt it. I do not doubt it for one moment." + +"But they're troublin' you all the same?" + +"Well, yes. Yes, I confess they are troubling me." + +"Both of thim?" she asked innocently. + +He hesitated. + +"Well, no," he replied artlessly. "No, not both of them." + +"Ah, I thought that same!" Hannah gave a nod of understanding. "Sure, +'twas to be tormentin' men she was brought into the world for. I said +so meself the first day I took her into me arms." + +"But--but I haven't said anything. How do you know that it is----?" + +"How do I know that it's Miss Clodagh that's botherin' you? Sure, how +do I know that you're standin' before me? Faith, by the use of me +eyesight! Haven't I seen you lookin' at her and ponderin'--and lookin' +at her agin?" + +Milbanke's lips tightened, and he drew himself up. + +"I should be sorry if any thought I have bestowed on your young +mistress----" he began coldly; then suddenly the intense need of help +and sympathetic counsel over-balanced dignity. "Hannah," he said +abruptly, "I'm in a terribly awkward position, and that is the simple +truth. My mind is quite at rest about the younger girl. She is a +child--and will be a child for years. A good school is all she needs. +But with the other it's different--with Clodagh it's different. Clodagh +is no longer a child." + +Hannah remained discreetly silent. + +"If I had a sister," he went on, "or any friend to whom I could entrust +her. But I have none." + +Again Hannah shook her head. + +"Why, thin, that's a pity!" she murmured. "Sure, 'tis lonesome for a +gintleman to be by himself." + +"It is a pity--a great pity. You do not know how it is weighing upon +me. Of course, there is her aunt----" + +Hannah made an exclamation of horror. + +"Is it Mrs. Laurence?" she cried. "Is it tie her to Mrs. Laurence you +would? Sure, you may as well put her in the grave and be done wid it." + +Milbanke's harassed face grew more perplexed. + +"No," he said hurriedly--"no; I understand that that arrangement is +impossible. I was merely wondering whether there is any other--any more +distant relative with whom she might be happy----" + +He looked anxiously into her broad, shrewd face. + +For a moment the small eyes met his seriously, then involuntarily they +twinkled. + +"Faith, when I was a young woman, sir," she said slowly, "men wasn't so +sat on findin' relations for a girl like Miss Clodagh--unless maybe +'twas a relation of their own makin'!" + +Milbanke suddenly looked away. + +"What--what do you mean?" he asked confusedly. + +"Why, that 'tisn't aunts and cousins that a girl like Miss Clodagh +wants, but a good husband." + +"A--a husband?" + +"Why, thin, what else? Instid of throublin' yourself and frettin' +yourself till your heart is scalded out of you, why don't you marry her? +That's what _I've_ been askin' meself ever since the poor masther died. +It's out now, if I'm to be killed for it!" + +She eyed him almost defiantly. + +But Milbanke stood stammering and confused, his gaze fixed nervously on +the ground, an unaccustomed flush on his worn cheeks. + +"But--but, Hannah, I--I am an old man!" + +His tone was deprecating and meant to be ironic; but unconsciously it +had an undernote of question; unconsciously, as he raised his eyes to +his mentor's face, he straightened the shoulders that age and study had +combined to bend. + +"I am an old man!" he said again. "Why--why, I am five years older than +her father----" + +Hannah continued to search his face. + +"An' sure what harm is that?" she said. "Wasn't me own poor man as ould +as me grandfather?--an' no woman ever buried a finer husband--God rest +him!" + +Milbanke's lack of humorous imagination stood him in good stead. + +"But she's a child," he stammered--"a child----" + +For answer, Hannah leant out of the window until her face was close to +his. + +"Listen here to me!" she said softly. "Child or no child, you thought +about marryin' her before ever I said it. But you'd never riz the +courage to do it. You're not like the Asshlins, that would tear down +the walls of hell if they wanted to be gettin' at the divil; you'd like +somebody to take him be the hand and draw him out nice and aisy for +you---- + +"There she is up in that lonesome house, frettin' her heart an' cryin' +her eyes out. Why can't you go up an' take her, before somebody else +does?" + +As she came to the last words her rough voice dropped. Her loyalty to +her dead master, her anxiety to see his child in a place of safety +poured from her in crude eloquence. To her primitive mind Milbanke +appeared as the ideal husband--a man of dependable years, of wealth, of +good social position; and all her affections, all her energies yearned +to make the marriage. She could not have framed the fear that possessed +her; but her instinct, her acute native intuition warned her +unanswerably that the daughter of Denis Asshlin would need protection, +and would need it before long. With an impulsive gesture she stretched +out her hand, and, touching Milbanke's shoulder, pushed him gently +forward into the yard. + +"Go on, sir!" she urged softly. "Go on up an' take her, before somebody +else does!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It may be surmised without fear of misconception that never during the +smooth course of his uneventful existence had Milbanke been so rudely +shaken into self-comprehension as by Hannah's unlooked-for onslaught. +Left to the placid guidance of unaided instinct, it is almost certain +that he would have left Orristown whenever the hour of departure +arrived, innocently unconscious that any parting pangs could be +attributed to a personal cause. It is possible that, with the passage +of time, he might have acknowledged that somewhere in the inner +recesses of his mind there was a shrine where one face, more changeful +and alluring than any other he had known, reigned in solitary state; +but beyond that tardy acknowledgment he would not have dared to +venture. Later still, perhaps, if circumstances had compelled him to +resign his guardianship over Clodagh in favour of some possible +husband, it is within the bounds of reason to conjecture that +understanding of his feelings might have come to him when, having said +good-bye to the young girl just crossing the threshold of life, he +returned to his home, newly and bitterly alive to his age and +loneliness. But now, in the light of present events, all such +suppositions had become valueless. As if by some powerful outside +pressure, his eyes had been opened, and he stood dazed and elated +before the new road that opened upon his vision. + +His brain felt light and unsteady, his limbs were imbued with a +sensation of unaccustomed buoyancy as he turned, impelled by Hannah's +words, and moved across the yard towards the arched gateway. A +half-admitted, intoxicating sense of imminent action possessed him; and +as he walked forward it seemed that he scarcely felt the ground beneath +his feet. + +Almost without volition, he passed from the stone-paved courtyard into +the sweep of gravelled pathway that fronted the house. For the first +time in his existence he was conscious of being borne forward on the +tide of his emotions; and the knowledge had an exhilarating, unbalanced +daring that suggested youth. + +As though he feared the evaporation of his mood, he made no pause on +gaining the pathway, but went straight forward towards the house with a +haste and impetuosity very foreign to his formal nature. On his second +entry into the hall, he paid no heed to the chill desolation of the +place, but crossing the intervening space, began immediately to mount +the stairs. + +Scarcely had he reached the highest step, however, than he halted +incontinently. For, as though in direct response to the thoughts that +were filling his mind, a door on the corridor opened, and Clodagh +appeared. + +Seeing him, she too paused; and in the moment of mutual hesitation he +had opportunity to study her. + +In her new black dress, she looked slighter and more immature than he +had expected; and the pathetic effect of her appearance was enhanced by +the paleness of her face and the heavy, purple shadows that +sleeplessness and tears had traced below her eyes. As the impression +obtruded itself upon him, his own nervous excitement dropped from him +suddenly. + +"My poor child!" he said involuntarily. + +At the words and the tone, she turned to him impulsively. + +"Oh! Mr. Milbanke----" she began. + +Then her loneliness, her sense of bereavement and desolation, inundated +her mind. With a short sob, she moved abruptly away, and turning her +face to the wall, broke into a passion of tears. + +The action was the action of a child; and without hesitation Milbanke +responded to it. Stepping across the corridor, he put his arm about her +shoulder and drew her gently towards the stairs. + +"Come!" he said soothingly--"come! The house is quite quiet, and you +are badly in want of a little daylight and fresh air. Come! Let me take +you out." + +Clodagh sobbed on; but she suffered herself to be led down the stairs +and across the hall towards the open door. There, however, she paused, +newly arrested by her grief. + +"Oh, Mr. Milbanke," she cried, "I can't believe it! I can't believe +that we'll never see him again. Poor father! Oh, poor father!" + +But Milbanke was equal to the situation. + +"You must be brave," he said kindly. "You must remember that he would +like you to be brave." + +The words were an inspiration; with marvellous efficacy they checked +the torrent of Clodagh's tears. For a moment she stood looking at him +in a dazed, uncertain way; then she lifted her head in a pathetic +attempt at decisive action. + +"You are right," she said unevenly. "He _would_ like to know that I was +brave." + +The declaration seemed to cost her an immense effort; for instantly it +was made, she turned away from Milbanke, freeing herself from his +detaining arm. And as though fearing to trust herself to any further +onrush of emotion, she stepped through the open door and walked quickly +forward to where the gravelled drive merged into the long and narrow +glen in which the Orristown woods met the sea. + +Down the wide track leading to this glen she walked, with head rigidly +erect and with resolutely set lips, while Milbanke followed. Now that +the immediate need for his protection had been removed, his mind +involuntarily reverted to his earlier and more tumultuous thoughts. +With a strange, half-timid excitement, he acknowledged the personal +element in his surroundings, and exulted with a certain tremulous joy +in the keen air that blew inland from the sea; in the pleasant earthy +smell of the moss that clothed the rough stones of the boundary wall +skirting the path; in the promise of spring, suggested by the hardy +green of the wild violet plants clustering at the roots of the beech +trees. And with his eyes fixed upon Clodagh's slim black figure, he +walked forward in a vaguely intoxicating dream. + +For the full course of the path she went on steadily; but reaching the +glen, she paused; and there, as if by a pre-arrangement of destiny, +Milbanke overtook her. + +With a quiet, unostentatious movement he stepped to her side, and stood +looking upon the scene that spread before them. + +The view was not imposing, but it was beautiful with the brooding, +solemn beauty that emanates from Ireland. Upon one hand, the sea +stretched away green, invincible, and cold as it so often looks in +early spring; upon the other, the woods lay a mass of leafless, +interlacing boughs that formed a clean, brown silhouette against the +grey sky; while directly in front, the first undulation of the rugged +Orristown cliffs stood up, an impregnable rampart against the outer +world. + +For a long silent moment Clodagh surveyed the picture; then with one of +the impulsive, unstudied gestures that were so characteristic of her, +she looked round; and for the first time since they had left the house, +her eyes rested on Milbanke's face. + +"You are very kind to me," she said suddenly. "Why are you so kind?" + +The words, spoken with complete ingenuousness, came at a singularly +appropriate moment. To Milbanke, nervously conscious of his own +emotions, they seemed inspired. With a quick, unsteady gesture he +wheeled round, and putting out his hand, caught hers. + +"It--it is easy to be kind to some people," he said, almost +inarticulately. + +Clodagh looked at him in some surprise; but it did not occur to her to +withdraw her hand. She stood perfectly calm and unembarrassed; and +presently, as he made no attempt at further speech, her glance wandered +back to the cool stretch of green water. + +"Yes," she said slowly, "I suppose it is easy to be nice to some +people; but not to selfish people like me." + +At her words, Milbanke's hand tightened abruptly. + +"You must not say that," he murmured. "I have never seen any faults +in your character. And even--even if I had"--his voice quickened +confusedly--"even if I had seen them, you would still be the--the child +of my oldest friend." + +He spoke disjointedly and agitatedly; but at his words, Clodagh turned +to him afresh with a grateful, impulsive movement. + +"Ah, then I understand!" she said warmly. "You are very kind--you are +very good----" + +At her movement and her tone, a mental giddiness seized upon Milbanke. +A flush rose to his temples. + +"Clodagh," he said suddenly, "let me be kind to you always! Let--let me +marry you--and be kind to you always!" + +The appeal came forth with volcanic suddenness. He had not meant to be +precipitate; it was entirely alien to his slow, methodical nature to +plunge headlong into any situation. But the occasion was unprecedented; +circumstances overwhelmed him. For a long space he stood as if +transfixed, his eyes straining to catch the expression on Clodagh's +face, his pale, ascetic features puckered with anxiety. + +The pause was long--preternaturally long. Clodagh stood as motionless +as he, her hand still resting passive in his clasp, her clear eyes +staring into his in stupefied amazement. It was plainly evident that no +realisation of the declaration just made had penetrated her +understanding. To her mind--unattuned, even vaguely, to the idea of +love, and temporarily numbed by her grief--the thought that her +father's friend could consider her in any light but that of a child was +too preposterous, too unreal to come spontaneously. The belief that +Milbanke's extraordinary words but needed some explanatory addition +held her attentive and expectant. And under this conviction, she stood +unconscious of his close regard and unembarrassed by the pressure of +his hand. + +At last, as some shadowy perception of her thoughts obtruded itself +upon him, he stirred nervously, and the flush upon his face deepened. + +"Clodagh," he said, "have I made myself plain? Do you understand that +I--that I wish to marry you? That I want you for my--my wife?" + +The final word with its intense incongruity cut suddenly through the +mist of her bewilderment. In a flash of comprehension the meaning of +his declaration sprang to her mind. Her face turned red, then pale; +with a sharp movement she drew away her hand. + +"You want to marry me?" she said in a slow, amazed voice. + +Before the note of blank, undisguised incredulity, Milbanke shrank into +himself. + +"Yes," he said hurriedly--"yes; that is my desire. I know that perhaps +it may--may seem incongruous. You are very young; and I----" + +He hesitated with a painful touch of embarrassment. At the hesitation, +Clodagh's voice broke forth. + +"But I don't want to marry," she cried; "I don't want to marry--any +one." + +There was a sharp, half-frightened note audible in her voice. For the +moment, her whole attitude was that of the inexperienced being who +clings instinctively to the rock of present things, and obstinately +refuses to be cast into the sea of future possibilities. For the +moment, she was blind to the instrument that was forcing her towards +those possibilities. To her immature mind it was the choice between the +known and the unknown. Then suddenly and accidentally her eyes came +back to Milbanke's face, and the personal element in the choice +assailed her abruptly. + +"Oh, I couldn't!" she cried involuntarily--"I couldn't!--I couldn't!" + +She did not intend to hurt him; but cruelty is the prerogative of the +young, and she failed to see that he winced before the decisive honesty +of her words. + +"Am I so--so very distasteful?" he asked in a low, unsteady voice. + +She looked at him in silence. It was the inevitable clash of youth and +age. She was warm-hearted, she was capable of generous action; but +before all else, she was young--the triumphant inheritor of the ages. +Life stretched before her, while it lay behind him. She looked at him; +and as she looked a wave of revolt--a strong, sudden sense of her +individual right to happiness--surged through her. + +"Oh, I couldn't!" she cried again--"I couldn't!" + +And before Milbanke could reply--before he had time to comprehend the +purport of her words--she had turned and fled in the direction of the +house, leaving him standing as he was, dazed and petrified. + + +Upward along the path, Clodagh ran. Her impulse towards flight had been +childish, and her thoughts as she sped forward were as unreasonable and +confused as a child's. She was vaguely, blindly filled with a desire to +escape--from she knew not what; to evade--she knew not what. Her one +clear thought was that the prop upon which she had leaned in these days +of sorrow and despair had unaccountably and suddenly been withdrawn; +and that she stood woefully alone and unprotected. + +On she ran, until the archway of the courtyard broke into view; then, +without a moment's hesitation, she swerved to the left, sped across the +yard, and burst unceremoniously into the kitchen. + +In the kitchen Hannah was busying herself over the fire that, in the +confusion of the morning's event, had been suffered to die down. At the +tempestuous opening of the door she turned sharply round, and for a +second stood staring at the disturbed face of her young mistress; then, +with the intuitive tact of her race, she suddenly opened her ample +arms, and with a sob Clodagh rushed towards her. + +For a long moment Hannah held her as if she had been a baby, patting +her shoulder and smoothing her ruffled hair, while she cried out her +grief and bewilderment. At last, with a slow sobbing breath, she raised +her head. + +"Oh, Hannah, I want father!" she said--"I want father!" + +Hannah drew her closer to her broad shoulder. + +"Whisht, now!" she murmured tenderly--"whisht, now! Sure, he's betther +off--sure, he's betther off." + +But Clodagh's mind was too agitated to take comfort. With a change of +mental attitude, she altered her physical position--freeing herself +abruptly from Hannah's embrace. + +"Hannah," she cried suddenly, "Mr. Milbanke wants me to marry him. And +I won't! I can't! I won't!" + +Hannah's eyes narrowed sharply. But whatever her emotion, she checked +it, and bent over her charge with another caress. + +"Sure you won't, of course, my lamb. Who'd be askin' you?" + +"No one." + +"Thin why would you be frettin' yourself?" + +"I'm not fretting myself. Only----" + +"Only what?" + +"Only---- Oh! nothing, nothing." With a distressed movement Clodagh +pushed back her hair from her forehead. Then she turned to the old +servant afresh. "Hannah," she demanded, "why does he want to marry me? +Why does he want to?" + +Hannah was silent for a space; then her shrewd, ugly face puckered into +an expression of profound wisdom. + +"Men are quare," she said oracularly. "The oulder, the quarer. Maybe +he's thinkin' of himself in the matther; but maybe"--her voice dropped +impressively--"maybe, Miss Clodagh, 'tis the way he's thinkin' of +you----" + +She paused with deep significance. + +The effort after effect was not wasted. Clodagh looked up sharply. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"Mane?" Hannah turned away, and, picking up a poker, began softly to +rake the ashes from the fire. "Sure, what would I be manin'?" + +"But you do mean something. What is it?" + +Hannah went on with her task. + +Clodagh stamped her foot. + +"Hannah, what is it?" + +"Nothin'. Sure, nothin' at all. I'm only sayin' what quare notions men +takes." + +"But you mean something else. What is it?" + +Hannah stolidly continued to rake out the remnants of the fire. + +"I know nothin'," she said obstinately. "Ask Mrs. Laurence." + +"But you do. I know by your voice. What is it?" + +An alert, unconscious note of apprehension had crept into Clodagh's +tone. Her lips suddenly tightened, her eyes became wide. + +"What is it, Hannah?" she exclaimed. "What's the reason he wants to +marry me?" + +"Sure no rason at all." + +"Oh!" + +Clodagh made a gesture of anger and disgust. Then she made a fresh +appeal. + +"Hannah, please----" + +But Hannah went on with her work. Years of shrewd observation had +taught her the power of silence. + +"Then you won't tell me?" + +There was no response. + +"Hannah!" + +At last the old servant turned, as though pressed beyond endurance. + +"Well," she said, with seeming reluctance, "maybe he'd be thinkin' +'twould be aisier for wan of the Asshlins to be drawin' out of her +husband's pocket than to be----" + +But Clodagh interrupted. She turned suddenly, her cheeks burning, her +eyes ablaze. + +"Hannah!" she cried in sharp, pained alarm. + +But Hannah had said her say. With her old, imperturbable gesture she +turned once more to her task. + +"I know nothin'," she murmured obstinately. "If you're wantin' more, +ask Mrs. Laurence." + +For a while Clodagh stood, transfixed by the idea presented to her +mind. Then, action and certainty becoming suddenly indispensable, she +turned on her heel. "Very well!" she said tersely--"very well! I will +ask Aunt Fan." + +And with as scant ceremony as she had entered it, she swept out of the +kitchen. + +As the door banged, Hannah glanced over her shoulder, her red face +brimming with tenderness. + +"Wisha, 'tis all for the best!" she murmured aloud--"'tis all for the +best. But God forgive me for hurtin' a hair of her head!" + +With feet that scarcely felt the ground beneath them, Clodagh sped +along the stone passages that led to the hall, and from thence ascended +to the bedrooms. Her senses were acutely alive, her mind alert with an +unbearable apprehension. A new dread that, by the power of intuition, +had almost become a certainty impelled her forward without the +conscious action of her will. Without any hesitancy or indecision, she +traversed the long corridor, and, pausing before the room occupied by +her aunt, knocked peremptorily upon the door. + +After a moment's wait Mrs. Asshlin's querulous voice was raised in +response. + +"Well?" she asked. "What is it? Who's there?" + +"Clodagh." + +There was an audible sigh. And the usual "Come in!" followed somewhat +tardily. + +Clodagh instantly turned the handle and opened the door. + +In this room the blinds had not yet been drawn up, and only a yellowish +light filtered in from outside; in the grate a fire burned unevenly; +and close beside sat Mrs. Asshlin, a cup of tea in her hand, a black +woollen shawl wrapped about her shoulders. As her niece entered, she +glanced round irritably, drawing the wrap more closely round her. + +"Shut the door, Clodagh!" she said. "I hate these big, draughty +houses." + +Clodagh obeyed in silence; then walking deliberately across the room, +paused by her aunt's chair. Her face was still burning, her heart was +beating unpleasantly fast. + +"Aunt Fan," she said, "I want to ask you something. Why should Mr. +Milbanke bother about me--about us?" + +Mrs. Asshlin, startled by the suddenness of the unlooked-for attack, +turned in her seat and peered through the yellow twilight into her +niece's excited face. + +"What on earth is the matter with you, child?" she demanded. + +"Nothing. But I want to know." + +Mrs. Asshlin made a gesture tantamount to shrugging her shoulders. + +"It is quite natural that Mr. Milbanke should be interested in you. He +was your father's oldest friend." + +"Yes, yes." Clodagh bent forward uncontrollably. "And, Aunt Fan, has +father died poor? Has--has he left debts? That's what I want to know." + +Mrs. Asshlin moved nervously in her chair. + +"My dear child----" she began weakly. + +"Has he? Oh! Aunt Fan, has he left debts?" + +Mrs. Asshlin was taken at a disadvantage. + +"Well," she stammered--"well----" + +"He has left debts?" + +"Well, yes. If you must know--he has." + +Clodagh caught her breath. + +"Of course, as I often said," Mrs. Asshlin continued, "poor Denis was a +terribly improvident man----" + +But Clodagh checked her. + +"Don't!" she said faintly. "I couldn't bear it--just to-day. Are the +debts big?" + +"Immense." + +Mrs. Asshlin made the reply sharply. She was not an ill-natured woman, +but her sense of dignity had been hurt. + +As the word was spoken, Clodagh swayed a little. The black cloud of +vague liabilities that hangs over so many Irish houses had suddenly +descended upon her. And in the consequent shock, it seemed that the +ground rocked under her feet. After a moment she steadied herself. + +"Must the place go?" she asked in an intensely quiet voice. + +"Yes. At least----" + +"What?" + +"It would have had to go, only----" + +"Only for what?" In her keen anxiety Clodagh stooped forward and laid +her hand on her aunt's shoulder. "Only for what, Aunt Fan?" + +Shaken and unnerved at the interrogation, Mrs. Asshlin sat up with a +start. + +"Why do you do that, Clodagh?" she cried--"why do you do that? You gave +me a palpitation of the heart." + +But Clodagh's eyes still burned with inquiry. + +"Why won't the place have to go?" she demanded. "How will the debts be +paid?" + +Mrs. Asshlin freed herself nervously from her niece's hand. + +"Mr. Milbanke will pay them," she said impulsively; then instantly she +checked herself. "Oh! what have I said?" she exclaimed. "Don't pretend +that I told you, Clodagh. He is so particular that you shouldn't know." + +But Clodagh scarcely heard. Her hand had dropped to her side, and she +stood staring blankly at her aunt. + +"You mean to say that he's going to pay father's debts--our debts?" + +"Yes. He even wants to put the place into good repair. Poor Denis seems +to have cast a perfect spell over him." + +"Then we'll owe him something we can never possibly repay!" + +Mrs. Asshlin drew herself up. + +"Not exactly owe," she corrected. "It is an--an act of friendship. The +Asshlins have never been indebted to any one for a favour. Of course +Mr. Milbanke is a wealthy man; and it's easy to be generous when you +have money----" + +She heaved a sigh. + +But Clodagh stood staring vacantly at the opposite wall. + +"It's a debt all the same," she said, after a long pause. "I suppose it +is what father used to call a debt of honour." + +She spoke in a slow, mechanical voice; then, as if moved to action by +her train of thought, she turned without waiting for her aunt's +comment, and walked out of the room. + +Traversing the corridor, she descended the stairs and passed straight +to the hall door. Once in the open, she wheeled to the right with a +steady deliberate movement and began slowly to retrace the steps she +had taken nearly half an hour earlier. + +Steadily and unemotionally she went forward, skirting the courtyard, +until, at the dip of the path, the glen came into view, and with it +Milbanke's precise, black figure, standing exactly as she had seen it +last. + +The fact caused her no surprise. That he should still be there seemed +the natural--the anticipated thing; and without any pause--any moment +of hesitation or delay--she moved directly towards him. + +As she reached his side, her cheeks were hot, her heart was still +beating unevenly; and, absorbed by her own emotion, she failed to see +the dejected droop of his shoulders, the slight, pathetic suggestion of +age in his bent back. + +Her footsteps were scarcely audible on the damp earth, and she was +close beside him before he became conscious of her presence; as he did +so, however, he started violently, and the blood rushed incontinently +over his forehead and cheeks. + +"Clodagh!" he stammered. + +But Clodagh checked him, laying her hand quickly on his arm. + +"Mr. Milbanke," she said hurriedly, "will you forgive me for what I +said? I want to take it back. I want to say that, if you still like, +I--I will marry you." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +And thus it came about that Clodagh Asshlin entered upon a new phase of +that precarious condition that we call life. The impulse that had +induced her to accept Milbanke's proposal was in no way complex. The +knowledge had suddenly been conveyed to her that, through no act of her +own, she had been placed under a deep obligation; and her primary--her +inherited--instinct had been to pay her debt as speedily and as fully +as lay within her power, ignoring, in her lack of worldly wisdom, the +fact that such a bargain must of necessity possess obligations other +than personal, which would demand subsequent settlement. + +However unversed she may be in the world's ways, it is scarcely to be +supposed that any young girl, under normal conditions, can look upon +her own marriage as an abstract thing. But the circumstances of +Clodagh's case were essentially abnormal. Milbanke's proposal--and the +facts that brought her to accept it--came at a time when her mind and +her emotions were numbed by her first poignant encounter with death and +grief; and for the time being her outlook upon existence was clouded. +The present seemed something sombre, desolate, and impalpable; the +future something absolutely void. + +For two days after the scene in the glen, she and Milbanke avoided all +allusion to what had taken place between them. He appeared possessed by +an insurmountable nervous reticence; while she, immersed in her +trouble, seemed almost to have forgotten what had occurred. + +On the evening of the third day, however, the subject was again +broached. + +Milbanke was sitting by one of the long, dining-room windows, reading +by the faint twilight that filtered in from the fast-darkening sky. The +light in the room was fitful; for though the table was already laid for +dinner, the candles had not yet been lighted. + +With his book held close to his eyes, he had been reading studiously +for close upon an hour, when the quick opening of the door behind him +caused him to look round. As he did so, he closed his book somewhat +hastily and rose with a slight gesture of embarrassment, for the +disturber of his peace was Clodagh. But it was not so much the fact of +her entry that had startled him, as the fact that, for the first time +since her father's death, she was arrayed in her riding-habit. + +Shaken out of his calm, he turned to her at once. + +"Are you--are you going for a ride?" he asked in unconcealed surprise. + +Clodagh nodded. She was drawing on her thick chamois gloves, and her +riding-crop was held under her arm. Had the light in the room been +stronger, he would have seen that her lips were firmly set and her eyes +bright with resolution. But his mind was absorbed by his surprise. + +"But is it not rather--late?" he hazarded anxiously, with a glance +towards the window. + +She looked up astonished. + +"Late?" she repeated incredulously. + +Then the look of faintly contemptuous tolerance that sometimes touched +her with regard to him passed over her face. + +"Oh no; not at all!" she explained. "I'm used to riding in the evening. +You see, Polly must be exercised; and I'd rather it was dark, the first +time I rode after----" + +Her voice faltered. + +Milbanke heard the tremor, and, as once before, his sense of personal +timidity fled before his spontaneous pity. + +"Clodagh," he said suddenly, "allow me to ride with you. I was a fairly +good horseman in--in my day." + +There was pathos in the deprecating justification; but Clodagh's +attention was caught by the words alone. + +"You!" she said in blank amazement. + +Then something in the crudeness of her tone struck upon her, and she +made haste to amend her exclamation. + +"Of course it's very, very kind of you," she added awkwardly. + +At her lowered tone, Milbanke coloured, and took a step forward. + +"Clodagh," he began, with a flash of courage, "I think you might allow +me to be more kind to you than you do. I think I might give you more +protection. And it has occurred to me that perhaps we ought to announce +our--our engagement----" + +He halted nervously. + +As soon as he had begun to speak, Clodagh had walked away from him +across the room; and now she stood by the mantelpiece looking down +steadily into the fire. + +"Do you agree with me?" he asked, moving nervously towards her. + +There was an embarrassed silence. And in his perturbation he glanced +from her bent head to the picture above the chimneypiece from which +Anthony Asshlin's ardent face showed out a vague patch of colour +against its black background. + +"Clodagh," he said suddenly, "allow me to tell Mrs. Asshlin that you +have promised to marry me." + +But still Clodagh did not answer; still she stood gazing enigmatically +into the burning logs, her slight figure and warm youthful face +fitfully lighted by the capricious, spurting flames. + +"Clodagh!" he exclaimed. And there was a note of uneasiness in his low, +deprecating voice. + +Then at last she turned, and their eyes met. + +"Very well!" she said quietly. "You may tell Aunt Fan. But, if you +don't mind, I'll ride by myself." + + +That night, at the conclusion of dinner, the engagement was announced. +All the members of the Asshlin family were seated round the table when +Milbanke, who had practically eaten nothing during the meal, summoned +his wavering courage and leaned across the table towards Mrs. Asshlin, +who was sitting at his right hand. + +"Mrs. Asshlin," he began almost inaudibly, "I--that is, Clodagh and +I"--he glanced timidly to where Clodagh sat erect and immovable, at the +head of the table--"Clodagh and I have--have an announcement to make. +We, that is I----" He stammered hopelessly. "Mrs. Asshlin, Clodagh has +made me very--very proud and very happy. She has consented to--to be my +wife." + +He took a deep, agitated breath of wordless relief that the confession +was made. + +There was a long pause. Then suddenly Mrs. Asshlin extended both hands +towards him in an hysterical outburst of feeling. + +"My dear--dear Mr. Milbanke," she said. "What a shock! What a surprise, +I should say! What would my poor brother-in-law have thought! But +Providence ordains everything. I'm sure I congratulate you--congratulate +you both." She turned to Clodagh. "Though of course it is not the time +for congratulations----" She hastily drew out her handkerchief. + +As she did so, little Nance rose softly from table and slipped +unobserved from the room. At Milbanke's words, the child's face had +turned terribly white, and she had cast an appealing, incredulous look +at Clodagh. But Clodagh, in her self-imposed stolidity, had seen +nothing of the expressions round her; and now, as her sister left her +place and crossed the room, the significance of the action went +unnoticed. + +For a moment the only sound audible in the room was the cracking of the +fire and Mrs. Asshlin's muffled weeping; but at last, Milbanke, +agonised into action, put out his hand and touched her arm. + +"Please do not give way to your feelings, Mrs. Asshlin!" he urged. +"Think--think of Clodagh!" + +Thus appealed to, Mrs. Asshlin wiped away the half-dozen tears that had +trickled down her cheek. + +"You must forgive me," she murmured. "We Irish take things too much to +heart. It--it brought my own engagement back to me--and of course my +poor Laurence's death. I hope indeed that it will be a very long time +before Clodagh----" + +But the words were broken by a clatter from the other side of the +table, as young Laurence Asshlin opportunely knocked one wine-glass +against another. And in the moment of interruption, Clodagh pushed back +her chair and stood up. + +"If you don't mind, Aunt Fan," she said, "I think I'll go to bed. +The--the ride has tired me. Good-night!" And without a glance at any +one, she walked out of the room. + +But she had scarcely crossed the hall, when a step behind her caused +her to pause; and, looking back, she saw the figure of her cousin, a +pace or two in the rear. + +In the half light of the place, the two confronted each other; and +Clodagh lifted her head in a movement that was common to them both. + +"What do you want?" she asked. + +Asshlin stepped forward. + +"'Tisn't true, Clo?" he asked breathlessly. + +Clodagh looked at him defiantly and nodded. + +"Yes," she said. "'Tis true." + +For a moment he stared at her incredulously, then his incredulity drove +him to speech. + +"But, Clo," he cried, "he's sixty, if he's a day! And you----" + +Clodagh flushed. + +"Stop, Larry!" she said unevenly. "Father was nearly sixty." + +But Asshlin's sense of the fitness of things had been aroused. + +"That's all very well!" he cried. "Uncle Denis was all right for a +father or an uncle. But to marry! Clo, you're mad!" + +Clodagh turned upon him. + +"How dare you, Larry?" she cried. "You are horrible! I hate you!" + +Her voice caught, and with a sudden passionate gesture she wheeled away +from him and began to mount the stairs. + +The action sobered him. With impetuous remorse, he thrust out his hand +to detain her. + +"Clo!" he said. "I say, Clo!" + +But she swept his hand aside. + +"No!--no!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you!--I don't want you! I never +want to speak to you again. You are hateful--detestable----" + +With a swift movement, she pushed past his outstretched arm and flew up +the stairs. + +In her bedroom Hannah was hovering about between the washstand and +dressing-table, a lighted candle in one hand, a carafe of water in the +other. At the sight of her mistress she laid both her burdens down with +a cry of delight. + +"My darlin'!" she exclaimed. "An' is it thrue? Tim heard the word of it +an' he carryin' the cheese out of the dinin'-room; but sure I wouldn't +belave him----" + +But Clodagh checked her. + +"Don't be a fool, Hannah!" she cried, almost fiercely; and turning her +face from the old servant's scrutinising eyes, she walked across the +room towards the bed. + +For a moment Hannah stood like an ungainly statue; then she nodded to +herself--a nod of profound and silent wisdom--and tip-toeing out of the +room, closed the door behind her. + +Instantly she was alone, Clodagh began to undress. With hysterical +impetuosity she tore off each garment and threw it untidily upon the +floor; then slipping into bed, she buried her hot face in the pillows +and burst into a violent, unreasoning torrent of tears. + +For ten minutes she cried unceasingly; then the storm of her misery was +checked. The door handle was very softly turned, and little Nance stole +into the room. + +She entered eagerly, then paused, frightened by the scene before her; +but her hesitation was very brief. With a sudden movement of resolution +she sped across the space that divided her from the bed, and laid a +cold, tremulous hand on Clodagh's shoulder. + +"Clo," she said, "is it true? Are you going to marry him? Are you going +away from here?" Her voice sounded thin and far away. + +Clodagh raised herself on one elbow, and looked at her sister. Her face +was flushed, her eyes were preternaturally bright. + +"Why do you want to know?" she demanded angrily. "Why is everybody +bothering me like this? Can't I do what I like? Can't I marry if I +like?" + +Her voice rose excitedly. Then suddenly she caught sight of Nance's +quivering, wistful little face; and her anger melted. With a warm, +quick movement, she held out her arms. + +"Nance!" she cried wildly--"little Nance!--the only person in the world +that I really love!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +That night Clodagh fell asleep with her wet cheek pressed against her +sister's, and her arms clasped closely round her. + +Next morning she woke calmed and soothed by her outburst of the night +before; and after breakfast she was able to enter into the primary +discussion concerning her marriage without any show of emotion. The +conclave, at which she, her aunt, and Milbanke alone were present, took +place in the drawing-room and was of a weighty and solemn character. +The first suggestion was put forward by Mrs. Asshlin, who, with the +native distaste for all hurried and definite action, pleaded that an +engagement of six months at least would be demanded by the +conventionalities before a marriage could take place; but here, to the +surprise of his listeners, Milbanke displayed a fresh gleam of the +determination and firmness that had inspired him during the days of +sickness and death. With a reasonableness that could not be gainsaid, +he refuted and disposed of Mrs. Asshlin's arguments; and, with a daring +born of his new position, made the startling proposal that the wedding +ceremony should be performed within the shortest possible time; and +that, to obviate all difficulties, Clodagh and he should leave Ireland +immediately, journeying to Italy to take up their residence in the +villa that he had already rented at Florence for his own use. + +Immediately the suggestion was made, Mrs. Asshlin broke forth in +irresistible objection. + +"Oh, but what would people say?" she cried. "Think of what people would +say, with the funeral scarcely over." + +Milbanke looked at her gravely. His matter-of-fact mind was as far as +ever from comprehending the ramifications of the Irish character. + +"But, my dear Mrs. Asshlin," he urged, "do you think we need really +consider whether people talk or not? Surely we who knew and loved poor +Denis----" + +"Oh, it isn't that! No one knows better than I do what a friend you +have been----" + +Milbanke stirred uncomfortably. + +"Please do not speak of it. I--I did no more than any Christian would +have done. What I mean to suggest----" + +But again she interrupted. + +"Yes, yes; I know. But we must consider the county--we must consider +the county." + +But here Clodagh, who was standing by the window, turned swiftly round. + +"Why must we?" she asked. "The county never remembered father till he +was dead. If I'm going to be married, it's all the same to me whether +it's in three weeks or three months or three years." + +Milbanke coloured--not quite sure whether the declaration was +propitious or the reverse. + +"Certainly!--certainly!" he broke in nervously. "I think your view is +a--a very sensible one." + +Mrs. Asshlin shook her head in speechless disapproval. + +"And what is to become of Nance?" she asked, after a moment's pause. + +Again Milbanke glanced uncertainly at Clodagh. + +"My idea," he began deprecatingly, "was to place the child at a good +English school. But for the first year or two I think that perhaps +Clodagh might be allowed to veto any arrangement I may make." + +Clodagh stepped forward suddenly and impulsively. + +"Do you mean that?" she asked. + +He bent his head gravely. + +"Then--then let us take her with us to Florence. 'Twould make me +happier than anything under the sun." + +The words were followed by a slightly dismayed pause. Although he +strove bravely to conceal the fact, Milbanke's face fell. And Mrs. +Asshlin became newly and markedly shocked. + +"My dear Clodagh----" she began sternly. + +But Milbanke put up his hand. + +"Pray say nothing, Mrs. Asshlin!" he broke in gently. "Clodagh's wishes +are mine." + +The blood surged into Clodagh's face in a wake of spontaneous relief. + +"You mean that?" she said again. + +Once more he bent his head. + +"Then I'll marry you any time you like," she said with a sudden, +impulsive warmth. + + +And in due time the day of the marriage dawned. After careful +consideration, every detail had been arranged and all difficulties +smoothed away. The ceremony was to take place in the small, +unpretentious Protestant church at Carrigmore, where, Sunday after +Sunday, since the days of her early childhood, Clodagh had listened to +the Word of God, and had sent up her own immature supplications to +heaven. The marriage--which of necessity was to be of the most private +nature--was fixed for the forenoon; and it had been arranged that +immediately upon its conclusion, Clodagh, Nance, and Milbanke should +repair to Mrs. Asshlin's cottage, from which--having partaken of +lunch--they were to start upon their journey without returning to +Orristown. + +The wedding morning broke grey and mild, presaging a typical Irish day. +After a night of broken and restless sleep, Clodagh woke at six; and +slipped out of bed without disturbing Nance. + +For the first moment or two she sat on the side of her bed, her hands +locked behind her head, her bare feet resting upon the uncarpeted +floor. Then suddenly the sight of the long cardboard box that had +arrived from Dublin the day before, containing the new grey dress in +which she was to be married, roused her to the significance of the +hour. With a swift movement she rose, and crossed the room to the +window. + +The view across the bay was neutral and calm. Over the sea to the east +a pale and silvery sun was emerging from a film of mist; while on the +water itself a white, almost spiritual radiance lay like a mystic veil. +Clodagh took one long, comprehensive glance at the familiar scene; +then, as if afraid to trust herself too far, she turned away quickly +and began to dress with noiseless haste. + +Twenty minutes later, she crept downstairs arrayed in her old black +riding-habit. + +Where she rode on that morning of her marriage; what strange and +speculative thoughts burned in her brain; and what secrets--regretful +or anticipatory--she whispered into Polly's sensitive ears, no one ever +knew! At half-past eight she re-entered the stable-yard, slipped from +the saddle unaided, and threw the mare's bridle to Burke. + +For a full minute she stood with her gloved hand upon the neck of the +animal that had carried her so often and so well; then, with a sudden, +almost furtive movement, she bent forward and pressed her face against +the cropped mane. + +"Take care of her, Tim!" she said unsteadily--"take care of her! I'll +come back some day, you know." + +And without looking at the old man, she turned and walked out of the +yard. + +She met no one on her way to the house; but as she passed across the +hall, she was suddenly arrested by the sight of Milbanke descending the +stairs, already arrayed in a conventional frock-coat. + +Unconsciously she paused. From the first she had vaguely understood +that he would discard his usual serge suit on the day of the wedding; +but the actual sight of these unfamiliar clothes came as a shock, +bringing home to her the imminence of the great event as nothing else +could possibly have done. He looked unusually old, thin, and precise in +the stiff, well-cut garments--a circumstance that was unkindly enhanced +by the fact that he was palpably and uncontrollably nervous. + +There was a moment of embarrassed silence. Then, mastering her +emotions, Clodagh advanced to the foot of the stairs, holding out her +hand. + +He responded to the gesture with something like gratitude. + +"You have been out early," he said hurriedly. "Have you been taking a +last look round?" + +Clodagh nodded and turned aside. The pain of her recent farewell still +burned in her eyes and throat. + +He saw and interpreted the action. + +"Don't take it to heart, my dear!" he said quickly. "You shall return +whenever you like. And--and it will be my proud privilege to know that +you will always find everything in readiness for you." + +Clodagh's head drooped. + +"You are very good," she said in a low, mechanical voice. + +For a space Milbanke made no response; then suddenly his fingers +tightened nervously over the hand he was still holding. + +"Clodagh," he said anxiously, "you do not regret anything? You know it +is not too late--even now." + +Clodagh glanced up, and for one instant a sudden light leapt into her +eyes; the next, her lashes had drooped again. + +"No," she said, "I regret nothing." + +Milbanke's fingers tightened spasmodically. + +"God bless you!" he said tremulously. And leaning forward suddenly, he +pressed his thin lips to her forehead. + +The hours that followed breakfast and saw the departure from Orristown +were too filled with haste and confusion to make any deep impression +upon Clodagh's mind. The last frenzied packing of things that had been +overlooked, the innumerable farewells, all more or less harassing, the +scramble to be dressed, and the entering of the musty old barouche, +that had done duty upon great occasions in the Asshlin family for close +upon half a century, were all hopelessly--and mercifully--confused. +Even the drive to Carrigmore with her aunt and sister filled her with a +sense of dazed unreality. She sat very straight and stiff in the new +grey dress, one hand clasped tenaciously round Nance's warm fingers, +the other holding the cold and unfamiliar ivory prayer-book that had +been one of Milbanke's gifts. It was only when at last the carriage +drew up before the little church, and she passed to the open gateway +between two knots of gaping and whispering villagers, that she realised +with any vividness the inevitable nature of the moment. As she walked +up the narrow path to the church door, she turned suddenly to her +little sister. + +"Nance----" she said breathlessly. + +But the time for speech was passed. As Nance raised a questioning, +excited face to hers, Mrs. Asshlin hurried after them across the grass; +and together the three entered the church. A moment later Clodagh saw +with a faint sense of perturbation that the building was not empty. In +a shadowy corner close to the altar rails Milbanke was talking in +nervous whispers to the rector, who was to perform the ceremony. + +A few minutes later, the little party was conducted up the aisle with +the usual murmur of voices and rustle of garments; and, in what seemed +an incredibly--a preposterously--short space of time, the service had +begun. + +During the first portion of it Clodagh's eyes never left the brown, +clean-shaven, benevolent face of the rector. Try as she might, she +could not realise that the serious words, pouring forth in the voice +that a lifetime had rendered familiar, could be meant for her who, +until the day of her father's accident, had never personally understood +that life held any serious responsibilities. It was only when the first +solemn question was put to her; and, startled out of her dream, she +responded almost inaudibly, that her eyes turned upon Milbanke standing +opposite to her--earnest, agitated, precise. For one second a sense of +panic seized her; the next, she had blindly extended her left hand in +obedience to the rector's injunction, and felt the chill of the new +gold ring as it was slipped over her third finger. + +After that all-important incident, it seemed but a moment before the +ceremony was over, and the whole party gathered together in the vestry. +With a steady hand she signed her name in the register; then, instantly +the act was accomplished, she turned instinctively towards the spot +where Nance was standing. + +But before she could reach her sister's side, she was intercepted by +Mrs. Asshlin, who stepped forward, half tearful, half exultant, and +embraced her effusively. + +"My dear child!--my dear, dear child!" she murmured disjointedly. "May +your future be very happy!" + +Clodagh submitted silently to the embrace; then, as her aunt +reluctantly withdrew into the background, she became conscious of the +old rector's kindly presence. Looking closely into her face, he took +her hand in both his own. + +"God bless you, my child!" he said simply. "I did not preach you a +sermon just now, because I do not think you require one. You are a +dutiful child; and I believe that you have found a very worthy +husband." + +At the word husband, Clodagh looked up quickly; then her eyes dropped +to her wedding ring. + +"Thank you!" she said almost inaudibly. And an instant later Milbanke +stepped forward deferentially and offered her his arm. + +In silence they passed down the aisle of the church, in the centre of +which stood the old stone font at which Clodagh had been christened, +and on which she had been wont to fix her eyes during the Sunday +service while the rector preached. All at once this inanimate friendly +object seemed to take a new and unfamiliar air--seemed to whisper that +Clodagh Asshlin existed no more, and that the stranger who filled her +place was an alien. Her fingers tightened nervously on her husband's +arm and her steps involuntarily quickened. + +Outside, in the calm, grey, misty atmosphere, they lingered for a +moment by the church door, in order to give Nance and Mrs. Asshlin the +opportunity of gaining the cottage before them; but both were ill at +ease, self-conscious, and acutely anxious to curtail the enforced +solitude. And it was with a sigh of relief, that Clodagh saw Milbanke +draw out his watch as an indication that they might start. + +About the gate, the little group of curious idlers had been augmented. +And as Clodagh stepped to the carriage an irrepressible murmur of +admiration passed from lip to lip, succeeded by a cold and critical +silence as the bridegroom--well bred, well dressed, but obviously and +incongruously old--followed in her wake. + +Clodagh comprehended and construed this chilling silence by the light +of her own warm appreciation of things young, strong, and beautiful. +And as she stepped hastily into the waiting carriage a flush of +something like shame rose hotly to her face. + +The drive to the cottage scarcely occupied five minutes; and even had +they desired it, there was no time for conversation. Milbanke sat +upright and embarrassed; Clodagh lay back in her corner of the roomy +barouche, her eyes fixed resolutely upon the window, her fingers +tightly clasping the ivory prayer-book. One fact was occupying her mind +with a sense of anger and loneliness--the fact that her cousin Larry +had not been present in the church. Since the night on which her +engagement had been announced, the feud between the cousins had +continued. During the weeks of preparation for the wedding Larry had +avoided Orristown; but though no overtures had been made, Clodagh had +never doubted that he would be present at the ceremony itself. And now +that the excitement was passed, she realised with a shock of surprise +that she had been openly and unmistakably deserted. + +The thought was uppermost in her mind as the carriage stopped; and when +her aunt came forward to greet them, her first question concerned the +absent member of the family. + +"Where's Larry, Aunt Fan?" she asked. + +"My dear child, that's just what I have been asking myself. But come +in!--come into the house!" + +Mrs. Asshlin was fluttered by the responsibilities of the moment. + +"Why wasn't he in church?" Clodagh asked, as she followed her into the +narrow hall. + +Mrs. Asshlin threw out her hands in a gesture of perplexity. + +"How can I tell?" she said. "Boys are incomprehensible things. I'm +sure--er--James is not old enough to have forgotten that?" + +She glanced archly over her shoulder. + +Milbanke looked intensely embarrassed, and Clodagh coloured. + +"Well, we'd better not wait for Larry," she interposed hastily. "You +know what a time it takes to get round to Muskeere with that big +barouche." + +Mrs. Asshlin became all assiduity. + +"Certainly!--certainly, my dear child! Mr. Curry and his brother are +already waiting. Won't you come in?" + +With hospitable excitement she marshalled them into the dining-room. + +The room into which they were ushered, though small, was bright and +cheerful; and, notwithstanding the season, there were flowers upon the +table and mantelpiece. But even under these favourable conditions, the +lunch was scarcely a success. Mrs. Asshlin was genuine enough in her +efforts at entertainment; but the guests were not in a condition to be +entertained. Milbanke was intensely nervous; Clodagh sat straight and +rigid in her chair, uncomfortably conscious of insubordinate emotions +that crowded up at every added suggestion of departure. Even the +rector's brother--a bluff and hearty personage, who, out of old +friendship for the Asshlin family, had consented to act as best man at +the hurriedly arranged wedding--felt his spirits damped; while little +Nance, who sat close to her sister, made no pretence whatever at hiding +the tears that kept welling into her eyes. + +It was with universal relief that at length they rose from the table +and filed out into the hall. There, however, a new interruption awaited +them. In the shadow of a doorway they caught sight of Hannah, arrayed +in her Sunday bonnet and shawl, and still breathless from the walk from +Orristown. + +At sight of the little party she came forward with a certain ungainly +shyness; but catching a glimpse of Clodagh, love conquered every lesser +feeling. + +"Let me have wan last look at her!" she exclaimed softly. "That's all +I'm wantin'." + +And as Clodagh turned impulsively towards her, she held out her arms. + +"Sure, I knew her before any wan of ye ever sat eyes on her!" she +explained, the tears running down her cheeks. "Go on now, miss--ma'am," +she added brokenly, pushing Clodagh forward towards the door, and +turning to Milbanke with an outstretched hand. "Good-bye, sir! And God +bless you!" Her sing-song voice fell, and her hard hand tightened over +his. "Take care of her!" she added. "An' don't be forgettin' that she's +nothin' but a child still, for all her fine height and her good looks." + +She spoke with crude, rough earnestness; but at the last words her +feelings overcame her. With another spasmodic pressure, she released +his fingers and, turning incontinently, disappeared into the back +regions of the cottage. + +For a moment Milbanke remained where she had left him, moved and +perplexed by her hurried words; then, suddenly remembering his duties, +he crossed the hall and punctiliously offered his arm to Clodagh. "The +carriage is waiting," he said gently. But Clodagh shook her head. + +"Please take Nance first," she murmured in a low, constrained voice. + +He acquiesced silently, and as he moved away from her, she turned to +Mrs. Asshlin. + +"Good-bye, Aunt Fan!" she said. "And tell Larry that I'm--that I'm +sorry. He'll know what it means." + +Her carefully controlled voice shook suddenly, as pride struggled with +affection and association. Suddenly putting her arms round Mrs. +Asshlin's neck she kissed her thin cheek; and, turning quickly, walked +forward to the waiting carriage. + +There was a moment of excitement; a spasmodic waving of handkerchiefs, +the sound of a stifled sob and the tardy throwing of a slipper; then, +with a swish of the long driving whip, the horses bounded forward, and +the great lumbering carriage swung down the hill that led to the +Muskeere road. + +As they bowled through the village street, Clodagh shrank back into her +corner, refusing to look her last on the scene that for nearly eighteen +years had formed a portion of her life's horizon. The instinctive +clinging to familiar things that forms so integral a part of the Celtic +nature, was swelling in her throat and tightening about her heart. She +resolutely refused to be conquered by her emotion; but the +emotion--stronger for her obstinate suppression of it--threatened to +dominate her. For the moment she was unconscious of Milbanke, sitting +opposite to her, anxious and deprecating; and she dared not permit +herself to press the small, warm fingers that Nance had insinuated into +her own. + +With a lurch, the carriage swept round the curve of the street, and +emerged upon the Muskeere road. But scarcely had Burke gathered the +reins securely into his hands, scarcely had the horses settled into a +swinging trot, than the little party became suddenly aware that a check +had been placed upon their progress. There was an exclamation--from +Burke; a clatter of hoofs, as the horses were hastily pulled up; and +the barouche came to a halt. + +With a movement of surprise, Clodagh turned to the open window. But on +the instant there was a scuffle of paws, the sharp, eager yap of a dog, +and something rough and warm thrust itself against her face. + +"Mick!" she cried in breathless, incredulous rapture. Then she glanced +quickly over the dog's red head to the hands that had lifted him to the +carriage window. + +"Larry!" she said below her breath. + +Young Asshlin was standing in the middle of the road--red, shy, and +excited. + +"I want you to take him, Clo," he said awkwardly, "for a--for a wedding +present." + +For one instant Clodagh sat overwhelmed by the suggestion; and next her +eyes unconsciously sought Milbanke's. + +"May I?" she said hesitatingly. It was her first faltering +acknowledgment that her actions were no longer quite her own. + +Milbanke started. + +"Oh, assuredly!" he said--"assuredly!" + +And Clodagh opened the carriage door, and took Mick into her arms. + +For one moment the joy of reunion submerged every other feeling; then +she raised a glowing, grateful face to her cousin. + +"Larry----" she began softly. + +But old Burke leant down from his seat. + +"We'll be late for the thrain," he announced imperturbably. + +Again Milbanke started nervously. + +"Perhaps, Clodagh----" he began. + +Clodagh bent her head. + +"Shut the door, Larry," she said. "And--and you were a darling to think +of it." + +Asshlin closed the door. + +"Good-bye, Nance! Good-bye, sir! Good-bye, Clo!" + +He looked bravely into the carriage; but his face was still +preternaturally red. + +Clodagh turned to him impulsively. + +"Larry----" she began again. + +But the horses started forward; and the boy, lifting his cap, stepped +back into the roadway. + +Clodagh stooped forward, waved her hand unevenly, then dropped back +into her seat. + +While the horses covered a quarter of a mile, she sat without movement +or speech. But at last, lifting his adoring eyes to her face, Mick +ventured to touch her hand with a warm, reminding tongue. + +The gentle appeal of the action--the hundred memories it evoked--was +instantaneous and supreme. In a sudden irrepressible tide, her grief, +her uncertainty of the future, her home-sickness inundated her soul. +With a quick gesture she flung away both pride and restraint; and, +hiding her face against the dog's rough coat, cried as if she had been +a child. + + + + +PART III + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +It was nine o'clock on a morning four years after the wedding at +Carrigmore; the season was late spring; the scene was Italy; and +Florence--the city of tranquillity made manifest--lay at rest under its +coverlet of sun and roses. In the soft, early light, the massed +buildings of the town seemed to blend together until, to the dazzled +eyes, the Arno looked a mere ribbon of silver as it wound under its +bridges; and the splendid proportions of the Duomo became lost in the +blue haze that presaged the hot day to come. + +The scene was vaguely beautiful, viewed from any of the hills that +guard the city; but from no point was its soft picturesqueness more +remarkable than from the terraces and windows of a villa that nestled +in a curve of the narrow, winding road between San Domenico and +Fiesole. This villa, unlike its neighbours, was long and low in +structure; and in addition to the stone urns, luxurious flowering +plants, and wide, painted jalousies common to Italian houses, it +boasted other and more individual attractions--to be found in a flight +of singularly old marble steps that led from one level of its garden to +another; and in the unusual magnificence of the cypresses that grew in +an imposing semi-circle upon the upper terrace. + +It was under the shade of these sombre trees that a breakfast table +stood, awaiting occupation, on this particular morning at the hour of +nine. The table in itself formed a picture, for in the warm shafts of +sun that slipped between the cypress trees, silver and glass gleamed +invitingly, while in their midst an immense Venetian bowl filled with +roses made a patch of burning colour. Everything was attractive, +refined, appetising; and yet, for some undiscernible reason, the +inmates of the villa appeared in no haste to enjoy the meal that +awaited them. + +For fully ten minutes after the coffee had been laid upon the table, +the Italian man-servant stood immovably attentive, his back stiff, his +glance resting expectantly upon the verandah; then his natural interest +in the meal caused him to alter his position and cast a sympathetic eye +upon the coffee in imminent danger of growing cold. + +Five more minutes passed. He looked again at the villa; sighed, and +gracefully flicked a fly from the basket of crisp rolls. Then suddenly +he stood newly erect and attentive, as his quick ear caught the swish +of a skirt and the sound of a light step. A moment later Clodagh +emerged upon the sunny terrace, followed by her dog Mick. + +At any period of existence, four years is a span of time to be reckoned +with. But when four years serves to bridge the gulf between childhood +and womanhood, its power is well-nigh limitless. As Clodagh stepped +through the long window of her room and came slowly out into the +morning light, it would have been a close observer who would, at a +first glance, have recognised the unformed girl of four years ago in +the graceful, well-dressed woman moving forward through the Italian +sunshine. On a second glance, or a third, one would undoubtedly have +seen traces of the long, undeveloped limbs in the tall, supple figure; +caught a suggestion of the rough luxurious plait in the golden-brown +hair coiled about the well-shaped head; and have been fascinated by +numerous undeniable and haunting suggestions in contour and colouring. +But there memory would have hesitated. The Clodagh who had scoured the +woods, scrambled over the rocks, and galloped across the lands of +Orristown was no longer visible. Another being, infinitely more +distinguished, infinitely more attractive--and yet vaguely deprived of +some essential quality--had taken her place. In the four years that had +passed since she left Ireland she had, from being a child, become a +woman; and below the new beauty that nature had painted upon her face +lay an intangible, a poignantly suggested regret for the girlhood that +had been denied her. + +As she stepped out upon the terrace, she paused for a moment and her +eyes travelled mechanically over Florence--warm, beautiful, inert. +Then, with the same uninterested calm, she turned slowly towards the +breakfast table; but there her glance brightened. + +"Oh, letters!" she said aloud; and with an impulsive movement, she +hurried forward, letting her elaborate muslin dress trail unheeded +behind her. + +Scarcely seeing the profound bow with which the man-servant greeted +her, she picked up the letters, and scanned them one by one. Then as +she disappointedly threw the last back upon the table, she half turned, +in acknowledgment of a measured step that came across the terrace from +the direction of the house. At the same moment Mick pricked up his ears +and slowly wagged his tail, while the Italian servant bent his body in +a fresh salutation. + +Milbanke--for his was the second step that had disturbed the +silence--came forward without haste. Reaching the table, he took +Clodagh's left hand and pressed it; then he stooped methodically and +patted the dog's head. + +"Good-morning!" he said gravely. "Are there any letters?" + +"Yes, four; and all for you--as usual." + +He smiled, unobservant of the slightly tired irritability of Clodagh's +tone. + +"Ah, indeed!" he said. "That is pleasant. Is there one from Sicily? +Scarpio promised to let me have the latest details of the great work." + +He took up the four letters and carefully studied the envelopes. As he +came to the last, his thin face became animated. + +"Ah, this is satisfactory!" he exclaimed. "I knew he would not fail me. +What wonderful--what fascinating work it must be!" + +He tore the envelope open and began to peruse the letter. + +While he scanned the opening lines, Clodagh watched him absently; but +as the first page fluttered between his fingers, she gave a slight, +involuntary shrug of the shoulders and, moving round the table, sank +into the seat that the servant drew forward for her. Then, with an +uninterested gesture, she poured out two cups of coffee. + +For a while there was silence save for the turning of the letter in its +recipient's hand; the occasional snap of Mick's teeth as he attempted +to catch a fly; and the thousand, impersonal sounds of lazy, outdoor +life that rose about them. At last Milbanke looked up, his face tinged +with mild excitement. + +"This discovery is very remarkable," he said. "Sicily will obtain a new +importance." + +Clodagh smiled faintly. + +"In the antiquarian's eyes," she said with unconscious irony. There was +no bitterness and no impatience in her voice. She spoke as if stating a +fact that long familiarity had rendered absolutely barren. + +Looking back over the four years of her marriage, it seemed to her that +her life had been one round of archaeological discoveries--all timed to +take place at the wrong season. She vividly remembered the first of +these events; the discovery of some subterranean passages in the +neighbourhood of Carrara, which had taken place two months after her +arrival in Italy, while life yet retained something of the dark, vague +semblance usually associated with a nightmare. Still desperately +home-sick and unreasonably miserable in her new position, she had +eagerly grasped at Milbanke's suggestion that they should visit the +scene of these excavations. But with this first essay, her interest in +discoveries had taken permanent flight. + +The heat had been tremendous; the country parched and unsympathetic; +the associations terribly uncongenial. She remembered the first +morning, when she and Nance, stifling in their black dresses, had by +tacit consent stolen away from the party of fellow enthusiasts to which +Milbanke had attached himself; and climbing to the summit of a low, +olive-crowned hill, had sat tired, silent, and unutterably wretched, +looking out upon the arid land. + +But that excursion had been the prelude to a new era. Visits to various +antiquities had succeeded each other with dull regularity, broken by +long, uneventful sojourns in the green seclusion of the villa at +Florence. Then the first break had occurred in the companionship of the +trio. Nance had been sent home to an English school. + +Clodagh's acceptance of this fiat had been curiously interesting--as +had been her whole attitude towards Milbanke and his wishes. From the +day on which she recognised that the state of matrimony was something +irrevocably serious, she had taken upon herself an attitude of reserved +surrender that was difficult to analyse--difficult even to +superficially understand. By a strangely immature process of deduction, +she had satisfied herself that marriage was a state of bondage, more or +less distasteful as chance decreed--a state in which, by a fundamental +law of nature, submission and self-repression were the chief factors +necessary upon the woman's side. + +As sometimes happens when there is a great disparity in years, the +wedded state had widened instead of lessening the gulf between Milbanke +and herself. It had cast a sudden, awkward restraint upon the affection +and respect that his actions had kindled in her mind, while inspiring +no new or ardent feelings to take its place. Ridiculously--and yet +naturally--her husband had become an infinitely more distant and +unapproachable being than her father's friend had been. And to this new +key she had, perforce, attuned her existence. + +With a greater number of years--even with a little more worldly +experience--she might have made a vastly different business of her +life; for, at the time of his marriage, Milbanke had been hovering upon +the borderland of that fatuous love in which an old man can lose +himself so completely. If, in those first months, she had permitted any +of the ardour, any of the fascination of her nature to shine upon him, +she might have led him by a silken thread in whatever direction she +pleased. But three factors had precluded this--her youth, her +inexperience, her entire ignorance of artifice. In her primary +encounter with the realities of life, she had lost her strongest +weapon--her frank, unswerving fearlessness; and in lieu of this she +had, in the moment of first panic, seized upon the nearest substitute, +and had wrapped herself in an armour of reserve. + +And on this armour, the weapons of Milbanke's love had been turned +aside. There had been no scenes, no harassing disillusionment; but +gradually, inevitably his original attitude with regard to her--his shy +reticence, his uncertainty, as in the presence of some incomprehensible +quality--had returned. He had slowly but surely withdrawn into himself, +turning with a pathetic eagerness to the interests that had previously +usurped his thoughts. With the nervous sensitiveness that warred +continuously with his matter-of-fact precision, he became uncomfortably +conscious of occupying a false position, of having made an +indisputable--almost a ridiculous--mistake; and he had taken a blind +leap towards the quarter in which he believed compensation to lie. +While Clodagh, vaguely divining this--vaguely remorseful, of what she +scarcely knew--had held her own enthusiasms more rigidly in check, +schooling herself into acquiescence with every impersonal suggestion +that he chose to make. + +From this had arisen the pursuit of the antique in whatever corner of +Europe--and at whatever season of the year--circumstances might decree. +To Clodagh, the pilgrimages had seemed unutterably wearisome and +unutterably foolish; but there is a great capacity for silent endurance +in the Irish nature. Quick-blooded though it may be, it possesses that +strong fatalistic instinct that accepts without question the decree of +the gods. The spirit of revolt is not lacking in it; but it requires a +given atmosphere--a given sequence of events--to bring it into +activity. At two-and-twenty Clodagh was weary of her husband, of +herself, of her life. But precisely as her father had fretted out his +existence in the quiet monotony of Orristown, she had accepted her fate +without thought of question. + +In the second year, when they had travelled to England with Nance, +Milbanke had suggested a visit to Ireland, but this proposal she had +declined. The days when every fibre of her being had yearned for her +own country were passed; and the idea of return had lost its savour. + +As she sat now, sipping her coffee and gazing abstractedly down to +where the hot sun glinted on the Arno, it seemed to her that her +life--the glorious, exuberant state that she had been accustomed to +call her life--had drifted incredibly far away; that it lay asleep, if +not already dead, in some intangible realm widely beyond her reach. She +thought of Nance away at her English school, and unconsciously she +envied her. To be fifteen, and to be surrounded by young people! +Involuntarily she sighed; and Mick, ever acutely sensitive to her +change of mood, turned and pressed his cold nose against her knee. + +Mechanically she put down her hand and pulled one of his soft ears; +then suddenly she raised her head, attracted by an exclamation of +impatience in Milbanke's usually placid voice. Looking up, she saw that +he had opened a second letter. + +"What is it?" she asked, her momentary curiosity dropping back to +indifference. "Was that last intaglio unauthentic after all?" + +Milbanke glanced up with an annoyed expression. "This does not concern +the intaglio," he said. "This is from Barnard--David Barnard, who acts +as my broker, and looks after my business affairs. You have heard me +speak of him." + +"Of course. Often." An expression of interest awakened in Clodagh's +face. + +"Well, this letter is from him--written from Milan. Most tiresome and +annoying its coming at this juncture!" He scanned the letter for the +second time. "I particularly want to run down into Sicily before +Scarpio leaves." + +"And does the letter prevent you?" There was interest and a slight +hopefulness in the tone of Clodagh's voice. + +"I am very much afraid that it does." + +"But why?" + +He folded the letter carefully and returned it to its envelope. + +"Because Barnard is coming to Venice in two days, and suggests that I +should meet him there." + +"Venice!" Clodagh said the word softly. + +"Yes. Most tiresome!--most annoying! But he thinks it an opportunity +that should not be lost. I have not had an interview with him since we +left Nance at school. He came then to our hotel in London; I do not +think you met him." + +"No. But I remember his coming to see you. I remember Nance and I +thought he had such a jolly laugh; we heard it from her bedroom--the +one that opened off our sitting-room." + +With the mention of this new subject, trivial though it was, Clodagh's +manner had changed. + +"But what about Venice?" she asked, after a moment's pause. "Will you +go?" + +Milbanke looked thoughtful. + +"Well, I--I scarcely know what to say. Of course I could refuse on the +ground of this business in Sicily. But it is a question of expediency. +A few days with Barnard now may save me a journey to London next year. +Still it is very provoking!" + +"But Venice!" Clodagh suggested, and again her tone was soft. More than +any other in Italy, the beautiful city of the Adriatic had appealed to +her curiosity and her imagination. With a quick glance her eyes +travelled over the sheltered, drowsy garden, sloping downward, terrace +below terrace. + +"I should love to see Venice," she said suddenly. "I always picture it +so wide and silent and mysterious." + +Milbanke looked up from the opening of his third letter. + +"Venice is unhealthy," he said prosaically. + +For one moment her lip curled. + +"Perhaps that is why it appeals to me," she said with a flash of the +old, insubordinate spirit. Then suddenly her eyes met her husband's +quiet, puzzled gaze and the passing light died out of her face. With a +hasty gesture she lifted her coffee cup to her lips and set it down +empty. + +"Come along, Mick!" she said, pushing back her chair and speaking with +unconscious sarcasm. "Come and let us see whether we can find any roses +in the garden!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Clodagh's manner was careless and her gait nonchalant as she rose from +table and crossed the terrace followed by her dog; but inwardly she +burned with a newly kindled sense of anticipation. There was no +particular reason why the idea of a journey to Venice, for the purpose +of seeing a stock-broker--even though that stock-broker was a personal +friend of Milbanke's--should be instinct with any promise; yet the idea +excited her. With the exception of the journey to England with Nance, +it was the first time in four years that her husband had seriously +contemplated any move not ostensibly connected with his hobby. And the +thought of Venice; the suggestion of encountering any one whose +interests lay outside antiquities, had power to elate her. As she left +the breakfast table, her steps unconsciously quickened; and Mick, +attentively sensitive to her altered gait, wagged his short tail, gave +one sharp, incisive bark of question, and looked up at her with ears +inquisitively pricked. + +She paused and looked down at him. + +"Mick, darling," she whispered, "imagine Venice at night--the music and +the water and the romance! And just think--" her voice dropped still +lower--"just think what it would be to meet some one--any one at +all--who might happen to notice that one's clothes were new, and that +one's hair was properly done up!" + +She bent down in a sudden impulse of excitement and kissed his upraised +head; then with a quick laugh at her own impetuosity, she turned and +ran down the first flight of time-worn marble steps. + +That was her private and personal reception of the news. Later, +returning with her arms full of the roses that ran riot in the garden, +she was able to meet Milbanke with a demeanour of dignified calm; and +to answer his questions as to whether her boxes could be packed in two +days, in a voice that was dutifully submissive and unmoved. + +But the two days of preparation were imbued with a secret joy. There +was a new and unending delight in selecting the most beautiful of the +dresses in her elaborate wardrobe, and in feeling that at last they +were to be seen by eyes that would understand their value. For +Milbanke, while never restraining her craving for costly clothes, had, +since the day of their marriage, been totally unobservant and +indifferent as to whether she wore silk or home-spun; and on the +occasions when outside opinions might have been brought to bear upon +the matter--namely, the moments when the archaeological excursions were +undertaken--necessities of season or expediency had invariably limited +her supply of garments to the clothes that would not show the dust or +the clothes that would keep out the rain. But now the prospect was +different. It was still the season in Venice; she would be justified in +bringing the best and most attractive clothes she possessed. The +thought was exhilarating; life became a thing of bustle and interest. +Two and three times a day she drove into Florence to make totally +unnecessary purchases; she wrote more than one long letter to Nance; +and indulged in many a protracted and confidential talk with Mick as +they sat together on the edge of the old marble fountain that dripped +and dozed in the sun. + +By a hundred actions, obvious or obscure, she made it plain in those +days of preparation that, despite the fact that her childhood lay +behind her, and that she had known none of the intermediate pleasures +of ordinary girlhood, she was a being whose heart, whose capacity for +enjoyment, whose comprehension of life was extraordinarily--even +dangerously--young. + +At last the day dawned upon which they left the villa on the sunny +hill--said good-bye to the wide, slow river, the riotous roses and the +slow-tolling bells of Florence--and took train for the north. + +Through the hours of that railway journey Clodagh sat almost silent. To +her eager mind, already springing forward towards the enchanted city, +there was no need for speech; and the quiet, prim husband seated +opposite to her, made no call upon her imagination. He was essential to +the journey--as the padded cushion behind her head, or the English +books and magazines by her side were essential to it--and for this +reason he occupied that most fatal of all positions, the position of an +accepted, familiar accessory. The early days of their marriage, when in +her eyes, he had taken in a new and dreaded aspect, were entirely past. +With his super-sensitiveness and constitutional self-distrust, he had +withdrawn somewhat hastily from the position of lover, to shelter +behind the cloak of his former guardianship. And Clodagh had hailed the +change of attitude with obvious relief. + +Now, as she sat eagerly alert to gain her first glimpse of Venice, she +had almost forgotten that those early days had ever existed. For the +moment Milbanke was a cipher; and she an ardent appreciative individual +undergoing a new sensation. + +Such was her precise mental position when at last the scene for which +she waited broke upon her view. Rising straight out of the water, +Venice seemed to her ardent eyes even more the product of a visionary +world than her dreams had made it. The hour was seven; and from the +many spires and domes of the city warm gleams of bronze or gold shot +forth at the touch of the setting sun. But the prevailing note of +colour that gleamed through the mauve twilight was white--the +wonderful, semi-transparent white of ancient marble back-grounded by +sea and sky. + +The effect made upon Clodagh's mind by this white city wrapped in its +evening veil was instantaneous and deep. With the exception of +Florence, her knowledge of the beauties of Italy was very limited; and +her first glimpse of Florence had been gained under such unpropitious +circumstances that its sheltered loveliness had never appealed to her +as it might otherwise have done. Now, however, her condition of mind +was tranquil, if not happy; and as the train sped forward, she gazed +spell-bound at this beauty at once so tangible and so unreal. + +To every traveller it must come with the sense of desecration, that +this most magical of cities is approached by nothing less prosaic than +an ordinary railway terminus. And Clodagh gave a little involuntary +gasp of disappointment as the train swerved suddenly, exchanging the +glamour of the outer world for a noisy station that might have belonged +to any town; and as she rose from her seat, arranged her hat, and +collected her books, she wondered for one moment whether the vision +just hidden from her view was in reality the handiwork of man and not +some mirage conjured up by her own imagination. So strong was the +feeling, that she remained silent as she descended from the train, and +waited while Milbanke saw to the collecting of the luggage; then, still +without speaking, she followed him down the flight of steps that lead +to the water. But there, as the station vanished from consideration, +and the picturesque crowd of waiting gondolas met her gaze, her +pleasure and excitement woke again; and with a quick gesture, she laid +her hand on her husband's arm. + +"Oh, isn't it wonderful?" she said in a hushed voice. + +Milbanke turned to her uncertainly. + +"Yes, my dear," he said absently--"yes. But----" He sniffed +critically--"but do you not detect a distinctly unhealthy odour?" + +Clodagh's hand dropped suddenly and expressively to her side, and she +wheeled round with unnecessary haste towards the gondola into which the +luggage was being piled. + +But even this jarring incident could not mar the first journey in the +stately black boat. Every portion of the way was instinct with its own +especial charm. From the wide dignity of the Grand Canal with its +ancient palaces, its mysterious stream of silent traffic, its +occasional note of modern life, to the fascinating glimpses of narrower +waterways where the women of the people, with uncovered heads, leaned +out of their windows to exchange the day's gossip with a neighbour +across the water--all was a delight, something engrossing and unique. +Clodagh had no desire to speak as they glided forward; and when the +hotel steps were reached, she suffered herself to be assisted from the +gondola scarcely certain whether she was dreaming or awake. + +Outside the hotel, half a dozen visitors were seated upon the small +stone terrace, indolently watching the arrival of new guests; but so +absorbed was Clodagh in the scene before her, that she scarcely +observed their presence. And when Milbanke, murmuring an excuse, +departed to see after their rooms, she turned again towards the canal +that she had just left; and, leaning over the balustrade of the +terrace, paused for a moment to study the picture afresh. + +But as she stood there, unconscious of everything but the wonderful, +noiseless pageant passing ceaselessly through the purple twilight, more +than one glance strayed in her own direction. And two at least among +the hotel visitors changed their lounging attitudes for the purpose of +observing her more closely. + +The two--both men--were simultaneously and noticeably attracted. The +elder, who, by his extremely fastidious and studied appearance, might +almost have belonged to another and earlier era than our own, was a man +of nearly seventy; the younger was his junior by forty-five years. +But--so levelling a thing is spontaneous admiration--the expression +upon the two faces, as they leant suddenly forward, was strikingly +similar. + +The old man held a gold-rimmed eyeglass close to his eye; the younger +meditatively removed his cigarette from his mouth. But at this critical +moment of their close observation, Milbanke reappeared, and, moving +stiffly across the terrace, touched Clodagh's arm. + +"My dear," he said, "our rooms are ready. If you will go upstairs, I +will find Barnard. I will not dress for dinner to-night. It is after +seven o'clock." + +Clodagh turned, her face glowing with the enthusiasm that filled her +mind. + +"All right!" she said. "But I think I'll just change into something +cool. It won't take ten minutes." + +Without waiting for his assent, she turned quickly and Walked across +the terrace to the vestibule of the hotel. + +As she passed the two men in the lounge chairs, the elder again lifted +his eyeglass; while the younger, leaning forward, stared at her with +that superb lack of embarrassment or reserve that the young Englishman +can at times assume. + +"By Jove!" he said very softly, as the two new arrivals disappeared +into the hotel. + +His companion turned to him with a thin laugh that belied his carefully +preserved appearance. + +"Attractive--eh?" he said. + +The other replaced his cigarette in his mouth. + +"What nationality is she?" he asked after a moment's pause. "I'd feel +inclined to say Italian myself, but the old father's so +uncompromisingly Saxon." + +Again the older man laughed--a laugh that expressed unfathomable +worldly wisdom. + +"Father!" he said satirically. "Fathers don't shuffle round their +womenfolk like that. They are husband and wife." + +"Husband and wife!" The other smiled. But the older man pursed up his +lips. + +"You'll find I'm right," he said. "She walked three steps ahead of him, +to avoid seeing him--and she did it unconsciously. Proof conclusive!" + +The young man laughed. + +"Doesn't carry conviction, uncle!" he said. "I'll bet you a fiver +you're wrong. Will you take me on?" + +His companion smiled languidly. + +"As you like," he responded. + +The young man nodded; then he looked down lazily at his flannel suit. + +"I suppose it's time to change," he said reluctantly. "Awful bore being +conventional abroad." + +With another careless nod, he lounged off in the direction of the hall. + +Exactly a quarter of an hour later, Clodagh emerged from her bedroom, +looking fresh and cool in a dress of rose-coloured gauze that, cut high +in the neck and possessing sleeves that reached the wrist, was yet +light and diaphanous in effect. She opened her door and, mindful of the +lateness of the hour, moved quickly out into the corridor. But scarcely +had she taken a step in the direction of the stairs, than a door +exactly opposite to her own was opened with equal haste; and the young +Englishman of the terrace appeared before her. Seeing her, he halted +involuntarily, and for a second their eyes met. + +The glance was momentary; there was not a word spoken; but irresistibly +the colour rushed into Clodagh's face. It took her but an instant to +regain her composure, and to pass down the empty corridor with a touch +of hauteur; but long after she had gained the stairs, her heart was +beating with a new excitement. The glance that the stranger had given +her had been almost ill-bred in its absolute directness; but ill or +well bred, there had been no mistaking the unqualified admiration it +conveyed. The personality of the man had escaped her attention; the +fact that his hair was dark, his face attractive, and his figure tall, +slight, and graceful had made no impression upon her. All she was +conscious of--all that set her pulses throbbing, was the suddenly +awakened knowledge that, within herself, she possessed some subtle, and +previously unrealised power that could compel a man's regard. + +She descended the stairs with a new sensation of elasticity and +elation; and at its foot found Milbanke awaiting her in conversation +with a suave, elderly man. + +As she came within speaking distance, the two turned towards her. + +"My dear!" Milbanke said quickly, "allow me to introduce Mr. David +Barnard! David, this is my--my wife!" + +Clodagh looked up curiously, and met the florid face, bland smile, and +observant eyes of Barnard--a man who for nearly a quarter of a century +had managed to prosper in his profession, and at the same time to +retain a prominent place in fashionable society. As their glances met, +she held out her hand. + +"How d'you do!" she said. "I believe I've been wanting to know you ever +since I heard you laugh one day two years ago." + +She spoke warmly--impulsively--almost as Denis Asshlin might have +spoken. Involuntarily Milbanke glanced at her with a species of +surprise. In that moment she was neither the frank, fearless child he +had first known, nor the self-contained, unfathomable girl who had +since become his daily companion. In the crowded, cosmopolitan +atmosphere of the hotel, she seemed suddenly to display a new +individuality. + +Barnard took her outstretched hand, and bowed over it impressively. + +"It is very charming of you to say that, Mrs. Milbanke," he murmured. +"But I'm afraid James has told me that you come from Ireland!" + +Clodagh laughed. + +"He'll also tell you that I lived quite forty miles from the Blarney +stone!" + +She looked up, her face brimming with animation. Then suddenly and +involuntarily she coloured. The young Englishman of the terrace was +coming slowly down the stairs. + +He descended nonchalantly, and as he reached the hall, he deliberately +paused in front of the little group. + +"Hallo, Barney!" he said easily. "Been playing much bridge this +afternoon?" + +Barnard looked round with his tactfully affable smile. + +"Haven't had one rubber," he said. + +"No?" + +"No." + +There was a pause--a seemingly unnecessary and pointless pause--in +which Barnard looked suavely at the newcomer; the newcomer looked at +Clodagh; and Clodagh looked fixedly out across the hall. Then at last +the older man seemed to realise that something was expected of him. +With a gay gesture, he metaphorically swept the silence aside. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said affably, "will you permit me to present my +friend Mr. Valentine Serracauld?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Clodagh looked up, colouring afresh; and the young man bowed quickly +and eagerly. He belonged to a type new to her, but familiar to every +social Londoner: the type of young Englishman who, gifted with unusual +height and fine possibilities of muscular development, saunters through +life--physically and morally--exerting his energy and his strength in +one direction only--the eternal, aimless, enervating search after +personal pleasure. + +To be explicit, the Honourable Valentine Serracauld was suffering from +that most modern of complaints--the lack of surmountable obstacles. The +nephew of one of the richest peers in England, he had started life +heavily handicapped. A sufficiency of money had rendered work +unnecessary; good looks and a naturally ingratiating manner had +precluded the need for mental equipment; while his social position had +unfairly protected him from any share in the rough and tumble existence +that moulds and hardens a man's character. At fifteen, he had been an +average healthy public schoolboy; at five-and-twenty, he was a +fashionable young aristocrat, whose only business in life was the +aiding and abetting of his uncle in the absorbing pursuit of killing +time. + +He bowed now to Clodagh with the extreme impressiveness that men of his +type bestow upon a new and promising introduction. + +"Charmed to meet you, Mrs. Milbanke!" he said. "Are you a resident +here--or a bird of passage like ourselves?" He indicated Barnard. + +Clodagh met his intent gaze with a renewed thrill of speculative +pleasure. + +"My husband and I live at Florence," she explained. "We are only here +on business--which sounds a desecration." + +Serracauld continued to watch her. + +"Not if you have any share in it," he said in a low voice. + +She laughed and blushed. + +"I'm afraid you speak from inexperience," she said. "To the people who +know me, I am a very prosaic person." + +She looked involuntarily at Milbanke. + +But Milbanke's eyes were on the groups of hotel guests, already moving +towards the dining-room. + +"Don't you think we might--might make a move----?" he hazarded vaguely. + +There was a very slight pause; then Serracauld responded to the +suggestion. + +"You are quite right!" he said easily. "I expect my uncle is looking +for me; he usually gets fidgety about feeding time. Will you excuse me, +Mrs. Milbanke? Perhaps later on I shall have the chance of correcting +that inexperience you accuse me of." + +He laughed pleasantly; and with a courteous gesture, disappeared into +the crowd that was fast filing out of the hall. + +As he disappeared, Clodagh turned towards the dining-room, leaving +Milbanke and Barnard to follow; but she had scarcely crossed the hall, +when the latter overtook her. + +"Well, Mrs. Milbanke," he said genially, "what do you think of our +young friend? I believe he usually finds favour in ladies' eyes." + +She glanced up. + +"I think him very charming," she said candidly. "Who is he? Do you know +him well?" + +Barnard smiled. + +"I have known him since he was a boy at Eton. He is nephew of the +famous Earl of Deerehurst who, according to rumour, spends three +hundred a year on silk socks, and bathes every morning in scented +milk." + +Clodagh made an exclamation of disgust. + +"What an abominable person!" + +Again Barnard smiled. + +"Well, I don't quite know," he said tolerantly. "Rumour is generally +a yard or two in front of reality. Perhaps Deerehurst is rather a +mummified old _roue_; but then, you know, embalming is a clean process, +Mrs. Milbanke, before, as well as after, death. I sometimes wonder +whether Valentine won't put the family money to even less harmless use +if he ever succeeds to the title. He is next in the succession, but for +one feeble life." + +Clodagh's eyes opened. + +"Really!" she said. "I should never have connected him with so much +responsibility." + +Barnard looked down at her. + +"Responsibility!" he said. "I don't think I should call it +responsibility! But what has become of James?" + +He paused, and glanced round the fast emptying hall. + +As he did so, Milbanke hurried up, his manner newly interested, his +thin face flushed. + +"Who do you think I have just seen, Clodagh?" he asked excitedly. "Mr. +Angelo Tombs--that interesting scientist who joined our party at Pisa +last year!" + +Clodagh looked round. + +"What?" she said in surprise. "The big, untidy-looking man, who had +written a book on something terribly unpronounceable?" + +Milbanke nodded gravely. + +"Yes," he said. "A most interesting and exhaustive work. I shall make a +point of congratulating him upon it directly we have finished dinner." + +"And what about me?" Barnard eyed him quizzically. + +"You! Oh, you must wait, David! You will understand that a man like Mr. +Tombs is not to be met with every day." + +They were entering the dining-room as Milbanke spoke; and involuntarily +Barnard glanced from the precise, formal figure of his friend, to the +youthful, attractive form of his friend's wife. + +"And you, Mrs. Milbanke?" he asked in a undertone. "Are you an equally +great enthusiast? Does the antique appeal very forcibly to you?" + +As he put the question, he was conscious of its irony; but an +irrepressible curiosity forced him to utter it. He was still labouring +under an intense surprise at Milbanke's choice of a wife; and the +desire to probe the nature of the relationship was strong within him. + +"Are you like the man in the Eastern story?" he added. "Would you +barter new lamps for old?" + +Clodagh was walking in front of him as he put the question, and +Milbanke was left momentarily behind. For a second she made no reply; +then suddenly she turned and cast a bright glance over her shoulder. + +"If you had asked me that question this morning, Mr. Barnard," she +said, "I don't believe I could have answered it. But now I can. I would +not part with one new, bright lamp for a hundred old ones--no matter +how rare. Am I a great vandal?" + +Her eyes were shining with the excitement of the moment, and her face +looked beautifully and eagerly alive. + +"Am I a great vandal?" she repeated softly. + +There was an instant's pause; then Barnard stepped closer to her side. + +"No, Mrs. Milbanke," he said. "But you are a very unmistakable child of +Eve." + +The dinner that night was a feast to Clodagh. She sat between Milbanke +and Barnard; and though the former was silently engrossed in the +thought of his coming interview; and, for the time being, the latter +confined his talk to impersonal subjects, she felt as she had never +felt before in the span of her twenty-two years. For the first time she +was conscious of being a woman--privileged to receive the homage and +the consideration of men. It was a wonderful, a thrilling discovery; +all the more thrilling and all the more wonderful because shrouded as +yet in a veil of mystery. + +Dinner was half way through before Barnard returned to his task of +studying her individually; then he turned to her with his most suavely +confidential manner. + +"Have you been very gay in Florence this season?" he asked. + +She looked up quickly. + +"Gay?" she repeated. "Oh no! I don't think we are ever exactly gay." + +He raised his eyebrows. + +"Indeed!" he said. "You surprise me. There used to be quite an amusing +English crowd at Florence." + +Clodagh coloured, feeling vaguely conscious of some want in her social +equipment. + +"Oh, I didn't mean the other English residents," she corrected hastily. +"I meant ourselves--James and I." + +Barnard's face became profoundly interested. + +"But don't you care for society?" he said, his eyes travelling +expressively over her pretty dress. + +Again she coloured. + +"It isn't that," she said in a low, quick voice. "James doesn't care +about parties--or people----" + +Barnard's lips parted to express surprise or sympathy; but she finished +her sentence hastily. + +"--And of course I like what he likes." + +Barnard bent his head. + +"Of course," he said enigmatically, and dropped back into silence. + +For a time he remained apparently absorbed in his dinner. Then, as +Clodagh began to wonder uncomfortably whether she had unwittingly +offended him, he turned to her again. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said softly, "would you think me very presumptuous +if I were to make a little proposal?" + +Clodagh brightened. + +"Of course not! Say anything you like." + +"You will be here for a week?" + +"I--I hope so." She glanced covertly at Milbanke. + +"Oh yes, you will! I shall arrange it." + +She looked at him quickly. + +"You?" she said. "How?" + +"Never mind how!" He smiled reassuringly. "You will be here for a week; +and my proposal is that, while Milbanke is settling his business, I +should be allowed to introduce you to some English friends of mine who +are in Venice just now. It may be presumptuous, but I seem to feel"--he +hesitated for a moment--"I seem to feel that you want to make some new +friends--that you want to have a good time. Forgive my being so very +blunt!" + +Clodagh sat silent. She felt no resentment at his words, but they +vaguely embarrassed her. The new possibility thrilled her; yet +insensibly she hesitated before it. + +"But ought I to want new friends?" she asked at last in a very low and +undecided voice. + +Barnard laid down the glass that he was lifting to his lips, and looked +at her quickly. Her freshness charmed, while her _naivete_ puzzled +him. + +"Well, Mrs. Milbanke," he said suddenly, "suppose we find that out?" + +And, leaning forward, he addressed Milbanke. + +"James," he said, "I have just been making a little suggestion. While +you and I are putting our ancient heads together, don't you think Mrs. +Milbanke ought to study her Venice--local colour--atmosphere--all that +sort of thing?" + +Milbanke turned in his seat. + +"Eh, David?" he exclaimed. "What's that you say?" + +"I was suggesting that Mrs. Milbanke should see a little of Venice now +that she is here." + +He indicated the long windows of the dining-room through which the +sound of voices and music was already being borne on the purple +twilight. + +Milbanke's face became slightly disturbed. + +"Of course!--of course!" he said vaguely. "But--but neither of us care +much for conventional sight-seeing; and then, you know, my time here is +limited." + +"Exactly!--exactly what I was saying. Your time is valuable. All the +more danger of Mrs. Milbanke's hanging heavy on her hands. Now, there +are some charming people staying here at present, who would only be too +delighted to make her visit pleasant." + +Milbanke's expression cleared. + +"Oh, well----" he began in a relieved voice. + +"Exactly! Lady Frances Hope is here. You remember Lady Frances who +married my cousin Sammy Hope--the red-headed little beggar who went +into the Navy? She would be intensely interested in Mrs. Milbanke. I +wish you would let me make them known to each other." + +He smiled suavely, thoroughly in his element at the prospect of working +a little social scheme. + +Milbanke looked at Clodagh. + +"What do you think, my dear?" he asked vaguely. + +Clodagh looked down at her plate. + +"I don't quite know," she murmured. + +Barnard leant close to her in a confiding manner. + +"Quite right, Mrs. Milbanke!" he said. "Never trouble to analyse your +feelings. Just give them a free rein. Lady Frances Hope is a most +charming woman. Always bright, always good-natured, always in the +swim--if you understand that very expressive phrase." + +Clodagh smiled as she helped herself to an ice. During their +conversation, the dinner had drawn to its close; and here and there +people were already rising from table and moving towards the hall or +the long windows that opened on to the canal. Unconsciously her eyes +turned in the direction of these open windows, through which a flood of +light streamed out upon the water, bringing into prominence the dark +gondolas that flitted perpetually to and fro like great black bats. + +Seeing her glance, Barnard turned to her again. + +"Shall we charter a gondola?" he asked. "It's the thing to do here?" + +Her eyes sparkled. + +"Oh, how lovely!" she said; then involuntarily her face fell and she +looked at her husband. + +"But perhaps----" she began deprecatingly. + +As the word escaped her, Milbanke--who had been oblivious of the +conversation--pushed back his chair and rose from table with a faint +exclamation of excitement. + +"Ah, there he is!" he said, his eyes fixed upon a distant corner of the +room. "There he is! I must not run the risk of missing him!" + +Clodagh turned to him eagerly. + +"James," she began, "Mr. Barnard says----" + +But Milbanke's mind was elsewhere. + +"My dear," he said hurriedly, "you must really excuse me. A man like +Mr. Angelo Tombs is a personage of importance." + +"Yes; but, James----" + +She paused, disconcerted. Milbanke had left the table. + +For quite a minute she sat silent, her cheeks burning with a sudden +sense of mortification and neglect. To a reasoning and experienced +mind, the incident would have carried no weight; at most it would have +offered grounds for a passing amusement. But with Clodagh the case was +different. Circumstances had never demanded the cultivation of her +reason, and experience was an asset she was not possessed of. To her +sensitive, youthful susceptibilities, the incident could only wear one +complexion. Her husband had obviously and wittingly humiliated her in +presence of his friend. + +She sat with tightened lips, staring unseeingly at the table. + +Then suddenly and softly some one crossed the room behind her, and +paused beside her chair. Turning with a little start, she saw the pale, +clean-cut features and searching dark eyes of Valentine Serracauld. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said at once in his easy, ingratiating voice. "If +you are not doing anything else this evening, may I place my uncle's +gondola at your disposal? Both he and I would be considerably honoured +if you and your husband----" + +Clodagh looked up into his face with a quick glance of pleasure and +relief. + +"Oh, thank you!" she said. "Thank you so very much! I should love to +come, only my husband is--is busy to-night." + +She paused; and in the pause Barnard leaned close to her again, with +his most friendly and reassuring manner. + +"After all, Mrs. Milbanke," he said, "do you think that need preclude +you from the enjoyment? James is perfectly happy; Lord Deerehurst's +gondola is quite the most comfortable in Venice; and I'm sure _I'm_ +staid enough to play propriety! Suppose we make a party of four?" + +Serracauld laughed delightedly. + +"How splendid!" he said. "Mrs. Milbanke, may I find my uncle and bring +him to be introduced?" + +He bent forward quickly, leaning across Milbanke's empty chair. + +For one second Clodagh sat irresolute; then she glanced swiftly from +one interested, admiring face to the other, and again the blood rushed +into her face in a wave of self-conscious pleasure. + +"Yes," she said softly--"yes. Bring your uncle to be introduced." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Serracauld smiled his acknowledgment of the granted permission, and +departed in search of his uncle; while Barnard looked at Clodagh with +amused interest. + +"If you can waive your prejudices against the milk baths, Mrs. +Milbanke," he said, "you'll find old Deerehurst quite a delightful +person. But, of course, when one is very young, prejudices are adhesive +things." + +He finished his coffee meditatively, stealing a glance at her from the +corner of his eye. + +She remained silent for a moment, tentatively fingering her cup. + +"Do I seem so very young?" she asked at last, without raising her eyes. + +At the words, he turned and looked at her fully. + +"Do you know, Mrs. Milbanke," he said seriously, "I am literally +devoured by a desire to ask you your age? When I saw you come +downstairs to-night, I felt--pardon the rudeness!--like laughing in +James's face when he introduced you as his wife. You scarcely looked +eighteen. But a little while ago, when you spoke of your life at +Florence, I suddenly felt out in my calculations. Your face, of course, +seemed just as fascinatingly young; but from your expression I could +have believed you to be twenty-four. And now again--Please _do_ be +lenient to my impertinence!--now again, as you spoke to Serracauld, you +looked like a child turning the first page in the book of life. Are you +an enigma?" + +During the first portion of his speech, Clodagh had looked grave; but +at his last words she laughed with a touch of constraint. + +"No," she answered. "I am nothing half so interesting--and it's four +years since I was eighteen. But hadn't I better get my cloak before Mr. +Serracauld comes back?" + +With another slightly embarrassed laugh, she rose; and without waiting +for Barnard's escort, walked out of the room. + +Ten minutes later, she descended the stairs, wrapped in a light evening +cloak. Her cheeks were still flushed with excitement, and her hazel +eyes were dark with anticipation. Yesterday--only yesterday--she had +been a mere item in the secluded, unimportant life of the villa at +Florence; now, to-night, three men--each one of whom must, in his time, +have known superlatively interesting and beautiful women--awaited her +pleasure! + +As she stepped across the hall, Serracauld darted forward to meet her. + +"This is very gracious of you!" he murmured. "I hear it is your first +evening in Venice." + +She glanced up at him, as they moved slowly forward across the hall. + +"My very first evening," she said softly. "And I so want to enjoy it." + +He paused deliberately, and looked at her. + +"May I take that as permission to make it enjoyable--if I can?" + +Her lashes drooped in instinctive, native coquetry. + +"Aren't you going to introduce your uncle to me?" she said in a lowered +voice. + +He looked at her, mystified and attracted. + +"If I knew you better, Mrs. Milbanke----" he began. + +But without replying, Clodagh moved away from him across the hall and +out on to the terrace. There, transfixed by a new impression, she +paused involuntarily. + +Venice is beautiful in the morning and exquisite in the twilight, but +it is at night that the mystery of Venice--that most subtle of its many +charms--enwraps and envelops it like a magic web. There is nothing in +Europe to rival the literal, tangible romance of Venice at night: the +faint, idle, infinitely suggestive lap of water against a thousand +unseen steps; the secret darkness, revealed rather than dispersed by +the furtive, uneven lights shed forth from windows or open doors; the +throb of music that seems woven into the picture--an inseparable, +integral part of the enchanted life. All is a wonder and a joy. + +To Clodagh, with her inherent love of things mystic and beautiful, the +scene was curiously impressive. In an ecstasy of appreciation, she +stood drinking it in; then, suddenly touched with the warm desire of +sharing her sensations, she turned to her companion. + +"Isn't it--wonderful?" she said below her breath. + +Serracauld looked at her for a moment in puzzled doubt; then he smiled +indulgently. + +"Yes!" he said vaguely. "Yes! It is rather great--the water and the +gondolas and--and all that sort of thing----" + +Her large, clear eyes rested on his face, then slowly returned to their +scrutiny of the canal. A momentary sense of disappointment had assailed +her--she was conscious of a momentary jar. But as she stood, silent and +uncertain, a burst of low, throbbing music broke across the darkness, +and at the same moment she became conscious of a large gondola gliding +up to the hotel steps. + +With the excitement of anticipation, the cloud passed from her face. + +"Come!" she cried--"come! I see Mr. Barnard." + +It was at the head of the flight of stone steps leading to the water, +that Lord Deerehurst was introduced to her; and in the semi-darkness, +it struck her that he made a distinctly interesting figure, with his +black hair worn a shade lower on the forehead than modern fashion +permits; his pale, aristocratic, unemotional face; his cold, +penetrating eyes; and the somewhat unusual evening clothes that fitted +his tall figure closely and, by a clever touch of the tailor's art, +conveyed the suggestion of a period more picturesque than our own. She +studied him with deep attention; and bent her head in gratified +acknowledgment of the profound bow with which he marked the +introduction. A moment later, he offered her his hand, and himself +assisted her to the waiting gondola. + +With a pleasant, excited sense of dignity and importance, she passed +down the steps and entered the boat, noting, as she took her seat, its +costly and elaborate fittings and the sombre livery of the two +gondoliers; then, as she leant back against the cushions, her eyes +passed back interestedly to the three men to whom she owed the night's +adventure. + +Lord Deerehurst came first, moving with a certain stiff dignity, and +appropriated the seat by her side; Barnard and Serracauld followed, +placing themselves on the two smaller seats that flank the stern; and a +moment later, she saw the gondoliers swing lithely round into their +allotted positions, and felt the gondola shoot out swiftly and silently +into the dark waters. + +Following the custom of the place, they headed for the point where the +idle and the pleasure-seeking of Venice gather nightly to listen to the +music, and lazily watch the swaying paper lanterns of the musician's +gondolas. + +Clodagh sat silent as they skimmed onward. She was bending slightly +forward, her whole attitude an unconscious typifying of expectancy; her +hands were lightly clasped in her lap, and again the hazel of her eyes +was darkened by their dilated pupils. + +As the gondola slackened speed and the music became nearer, more +distinct, Lord Deerehurst, who had been covertly studying her, leant +suddenly close to her. + +"You are a great appreciator of the beautiful, Mrs. Milbanke!" he said +in his thin, high-bred voice. + +Clodagh started; and, glancing from one to the other of the three men, +laughed shyly. + +"Why do you say that?" she asked. + +"Because I have presumed to watch your face." + +She blushed; and Barnard, feeling rather than seeing her embarrassment, +made haste to reassure her. + +"Mrs. Milbanke is an adept in the appreciation of beauty," he said with +a laugh. "She was brought up on the study of it." + +Again Clodagh coloured, and again she gave a shy laugh. + +"If you say that, Mr. Barnard," she said, "I shall accuse you of being +a fellow-countryman. I am Irish, you know." She turned and looked up at +Deerehurst. + +The old peer again bent forward interestedly. + +"Indeed!" he exclaimed. "Then we have a bond of sympathy. Some of my +best friends come from Ireland." + +His voice was high and possessed no fulness, but he had the same +courteously ingratiating manner that belonged to his nephew; while a +larger acquaintance with the world had taught him an adaptability to +circumstances--and persons--that Serracauld had not troubled to +acquire. As he spoke now, he brought a tone of deference and +friendliness into his words that touched Clodagh to a feeling of +companionship. + +"Then you know Ireland?" she said quickly. + +"Very well indeed." + +Her expression softened. + +"When were you there last?" she asked in a low voice. + +"Last autumn. I was staying at Arranmore with----" + +"--With Lord Muskeere. I know--I know. Why, you were in our county. My +father often and often stayed at Arranmore before----" She checked +herself hastily. "Oh, long ago, before--before I was born," she added a +little awkwardly. "It was from a stream that runs near there that he +took my name--Clodagh." + +"Indeed! What a charming idea!" + +Deerehurst raised his gold-rimmed eyeglass, and peered at her through +the dusk. + +At the same moment, Serracauld leaned forward in his seat. + +"Clodagh!" he repeated--"Clodagh! What a pretty name!" + +Once more, and without apparent reason, Clodagh felt her heart beat +unevenly. With a short laugh, she turned to Barnard. + +"And you, Mr. Barnard," she said hastily, "do you like the name?" + +Barnard made a suave gesture. + +"I say that it fits its owner." + +Once more she laughed with a tinge of nervous excitement. + +"A very guarded statement!" she said brightly. "I think we had better +talk about something else. Who are the people I am to meet here? Mr. +Barnard kindly wants to provide me with new friends." + +She turned again to Deerehurst. + +"Indeed!" Once more he lifted the gold-rimmed glass, this time to study +Barnard. + +"Yes," broke in Barnard genially. "Mrs. Milbanke's husband and I have +met here to talk shop; and I have a shrewd presentiment that, unless we +provide her with a diverting channel or two, Mrs. Milbanke may find +Venice a bore." + +"I could never do that." + +Clodagh turned an animated face towards the dark flotilla, on the +outskirts of which their own gondola was hovering. + +"But, my dear lady, even Venice can become uninteresting and +dry--paradoxical as it may sound," Barnard returned airily. "My +proposal," he explained, "is that I should make Frances Hope and Mrs. +Milbanke known to each other. Don't you think the idea brilliant?" + +"Quite!--quite!" Serracauld looked up interestedly. "You are a man of +ideas, Barny!" + +Lord Deerehurst said nothing, but again his eyeglass gleamed in the +uncertain light. + +"What is Lady Frances Hope like?" Clodagh asked, suddenly withdrawing +her gaze from the massed gondolas that swayed in the musicians' lantern +light. + +"Like?" Serracauld repeated vaguely. "How would you describe her, +uncle? The sort of woman who does everything twice as well as anybody +else--and at half the cost--eh?" + +Lord Deerehurst gave one of his thin, metallic laughs. + +"I always think," he said slowly, "that if Frances Hope had been the +child of a milkman instead of a marquis, she would have made a +singularly successful adventuress. No reflections cast upon the late +Sammy, my dear Barnard!" + +He waved his white hand, and the dim, uncertain light gleamed on a +magnificent diamond ring. + +Barnard laughed with a tolerant air. + +"Rather an apt deduction!" he admitted. "I am inclined to agree with +you. Frances is just one of those shrewd, plain-looking, attractive +women who enjoy climbing steep ladders. It is rather a pity she was +born on the top rung. But I believe we have frightened Mrs. Milbanke!" + +He turned suddenly and caught Clodagh's expression, as she sat forward, +listening intently. + +At the mention of her name, she laughed quickly, and leant back against +the cushions of her seat. + +"What do you mean?" she asked with a touch of constraint. "Am I as +childish as all that?" + +They all looked at her; and Barnard gave an amused laugh. + +"Come!" he cried banteringly. "There's no use telling me you weren't +just a little shocked." + +"Shocked?" + +"Yes, shocked." He nodded his head once or twice in genial gaiety. +"There's no denying that the word 'adventuress' has a daunting sound. +There was a danger signal in the very thought of a lady who +might--under any conditions--have been notorious. Come now, confess!" + +Clodagh looked from his amused, quizzical eyes to Serracauld's +satirical, laughing ones, and a shadow of uncertainty--of +doubt--crossed her own bright face. There was an element in this social +atmosphere that she did not quite understand. + +"Indeed----" she began hotly. + +But Serracauld, whose glance had never left her own, bent forward +quickly, looking up into her face. + +"I say, Mrs. Milbanke," he cried, "let's refute the insinuation of this +old inquisitor! Let's waive ceremony, and storm Lady Frances Hope in +her citadel! She is always at home at this hour of night." + +Clodagh looked up. + +"To-night?" she said. "Oh, but how could I? I don't know her!" + +Serracauld laughed. + +"Oh, as for that, we're abroad, not in England! The greatest stickler +for etiquette allows that there's a difference in the two conditions." + +"But I couldn't. How could I?" Her eyes sought Barnard's. + +"Oh yes!" he cried. "I knew it!--I knew it! We have frightened you +off!" + +She flushed uncomfortably. + +"It isn't that!" she cried in distress. "You know it isn't that!" +Involuntarily she turned to Lord Deerehurst; but in the dim light she +detected a smile on his pale, cold face. + +With a sudden change of emotion, self-reliance came to her. + +"Where does Lady Frances Hope live?" she asked in a careless voice. + +Barnard was studying her intently. + +"She has apartments in the Palazzo Ugochini," he said. "Quite close at +hand." + +For a moment Clodagh looked fixedly in front of her; then her lips +closed suddenly, and she raised her head. + +"Very well!" she said shortly. "Take me to the Palazzo Ugochini--just +to prove that you were wrong." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The decision was no sooner made, than it was carried into execution. +The order was given to the gondoliers, and instantly the long dark +gondola swung round, disengaging itself from the tangle of surrounding +craft, and headed for the quieter spaces of the middle stream. + +The Palazzo Ugochini was on the Grand Canal; and as they glided +westward, past the beautiful church of Santa Maria della Salute, +Barnard leant forward and directed her attention to their destination. + +"There is the Palace of the Ugochini," he said. "It contains some of +the finest frescoes in Italy. It was bought up some years ago by an +enterprising Frenchman who lets it out in sections. Just now Lady +Frances Hope is the proud occupier of the first floor." + +With a movement of interest, she followed his glance looking silently +at the long line of irregular, imposing buildings that stretched away +before her. + +"What a beautiful old place!" she said. "Are those your friend's +windows?" + +She indicated the first floor of the palace, from the open windows of +which a warm stream of light poured downwards upon the water. + +"Yes. I expect they're playing bridge up there. Frances is an +enthusiast. By the way, do you gamble, Mrs. Milbanke?" + +Involuntarily Clodagh started and looked round; then, as she met +Barnard's bland, amiable face, she blushed at her own emotions. + +"Oh no!" she said in a low voice. "I--I never play cards." + +Serracauld looked up quickly. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "You don't play bridge?" + +"I have never played any game of cards since I was a child." + +The three men looked at her in unfeigned surprise. + +"Not really, Mrs. Milbanke?" + +Serracauld's eyes were wide with astonishment. + +"Really !--quite really!" + +"Why you are ethereal, Mrs. Milbanke," Barnard said laughingly, as the +gondola glided up to the palace steps. "The passport to humanity +nowadays is an inordinate love of risk." + +Clodagh laughed nervously. + +"Then I must be inhuman," she said. + +The gondola stopped, and Lord Deerehurst rose. As he offered her his +hand, he looked searchingly into her face. + +"Only time can prove the truth of that statement, Mrs. Milbanke!" he +said in his thin voice. + +In the mystery of her surroundings, the words seemed to Clodagh to +possess a curious, almost a prophetic ring; and their echo lingered in +her ears as she stepped from the gondola and entered the palace. But +she was young; and to the young, action must ever outweigh suggestion. +She had scarcely mounted the old marble staircase before the excitement +of her impending ordeal sent all other ideas spinning into oblivion. +There was adventure and experience in every succeeding moment. + +At the head of the stairs they were met by an English man-servant. He +stepped forward gravely, as if accustomed to the arrival of late +callers; and, relieving Clodagh of her cloak, ushered her down a long +corridor and through an arched doorway hidden by a velvet curtain. + +The salon into which they were shown was large and high ceiled. The +walls displayed some allegorical studies in the fresco work of which +Barnard had spoken; the floor was bare of carpet and highly polished, +reflecting the elaborately designed but scanty furniture and the +wonderful glass chandeliers that hung from the ceiling; and in the +three long windows that opened on the canal, stood groups of statuary. + +During the moment that followed their entrance, Clodagh almost believed +that the room was unoccupied, so wide and formal did it look; but a +second glance convinced her of her mistake. At its further end four +persons were playing cards at a small table, partly sheltered from the +rest of the room by a massive leather screen. + +When their names were announced, no one at the table moved or even +looked round; but immediately afterwards there was a stir amongst the +players, and the light sound of cards thrown hastily down, followed by +a quick laugh in a woman's voice. + +"Game--and rubber! Well done, partner! How does the score stand, Tory?" + +The owner of the laugh rose from her seat, and almost instantly turned +to the door, revealing to Clodagh's curious eyes a strong, energetic +face, redeemed from ugliness by a pair of intensely intelligent eyes +and a mouth that displayed strong white teeth. It was the somewhat +disconcerting face of a clever woman to whom life represents an +undeniable--if an invigorating--struggle. Seeing the little group by +the doorway, she hurried forward with an almost masculine assurance. + +"You poor, dear people!" she exclaimed in her strong voice. "A thousand +apologies! We were on the point of finishing a most exciting +rubber----" Her voice broke off short, as her eyes rested on Clodagh. + +"Who is this, Barny?" she asked interestedly. + +Barnard stepped forward, laying his hand smilingly on Clodagh's arm. + +"This, my dear Frances," he said, "is a new friend that I want you to +make! The wife of an old friend of mine. You may have met her +husband--Mr. Milbanke--one of the Somerset Milbankes. Poor Sammy knew +him well." + +Lady Frances Hope puckered her strong, assertive eyebrows. + +"I believe I do remember meeting a Mr. Milbanke, but I scarcely +think----" She looked scrutinisingly at Clodagh. + +"Oh yes, it's the same!--it's the same!" Barnard's interruption was +somewhat hasty. "Mr. Milbanke is a great archaeologist. He and Mrs. +Milbanke are only in Venice for a week. I had intended bringing you to +call formally at their hotel; but circumstances----" + +Here Clodagh broke in. + +"You must please, please forgive my doing such a very extraordinary +thing as this," she said. "It was all Mr. Barnard's fault----" + +But Lady Frances Hope cut the explanation short by holding out her +hand. + +"You are extremely welcome!" she said cordially. "And if the truth must +be told, I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving me an afternoon call. +It's a hundred times pleasanter to meet like this. Now, let me see! You +play bridge, of course. We can make up another four." + +She glanced over her guests with an organising eye. + +Clodagh stepped forward deprecatingly and cast a beseeching look at +Barnard. But in the slight pause that followed, it was Lord Deerehurst +who came to her rescue. + +"Mrs. Milbanke has just been confessing to us that she never plays +cards," he said smoothly. "If you will go on with your game, Lady +Frances, I shall do my best to amuse her." + +He turned his unemotional glance from one to the other. + +The surprise that his announcement had brought to their hostess's face, +changed instantly to an expression of hospitality. + +"No!--no, indeed!" she cried. "I would infinitely prefer to talk to +Mrs. Milbanke. Come!" she added, smiling at Clodagh. "Come and let me +introduce you to these bridge-playing people. Perhaps they will convert +you." + +She laughed, and followed by the four, moved across the salon. + +At their approach, the three at the card-table--two women and a +man--turned to look at them, and the latter, a square-built, thick-set +youth, wearing a pince-nez and possessing a quick, inquisitive manner, +rose to his feet. + +"Mrs. Milbanke!" said Lady Frances, "this is Mr. Victor Luard! Miss +Luard! Mrs. Bathurst!" + +Luard bowed; and the two women looked at Clodagh, each acknowledging +the introduction after her own fashion. Miss Luard gave a quick, +friendly nod, Mrs. Bathurst a slow and graceful inclination of the +head, accompanied by a faint, insincere smile. + +"Are you a bridge player?" she asked, raising a pair of pretty, languid +brown eyes to Clodagh's. "I wish so much you would take my place. I've +been having the most appalling luck." + +Her glance wandered on to Serracauld, Barnard, and Deerehurst. + +"Ah, here is Lord Deerehurst!" she cried in a suddenly animated voice. +"Lord Deerehurst, do come and tell me what you would have done with a +hand like this!" + +She picked up her scattered cards, and began to sort them; then, with a +graceful movement, she drew her skirts aside, and indicated a vacant +chair that stood beside her own. + +Lord Deerehurst hesitated, lifted his eyeglass, and scrutinised her +pretty pink and white face, then languidly dropped into the empty +chair. At the same moment Clodagh, Serracauld, Luard, and his sister +fell into conversation; and Lady Frances and Barnard moved away +together towards one of the open windows. + +For a quarter of an hour the formation of the party remained unchanged; +then a slight incident caused a distraction in the assembly. +Clodagh--who had shaken off her first shyness, and was beginning to +enjoy the conversation of her new acquaintance--heard the curtain at +the arched entrance drawn back; and, looking round, was surprised to +see two servants enter, solemnly carrying a table and a painted board, +which they proceeded to set up in the middle of the room. + +Her wonder and curiosity were depicted on her face, for Luard looked at +her quickly and interestedly. + +"Don't you know what that is, Mrs. Milbanke?" he asked. "Hasn't Barny +told you of Lady Frances' famous roulette? Lady Frances!" he called, +"come and initiate Mrs. Milbanke!" + +At the words, every one turned and looked at Clodagh. And Lord +Deerehurst, with a murmured word to Mrs. Bathurst, rose and came round +the card-table. + +"Are you going to tempt the gods?" he asked in his peculiar voice. + +Clodagh looked round, a little embarrassed by the general interest. + +"Well, I--I suppose I should like to see roulette played," she admitted +guardedly. + +He bent his head, and looked at her with his cold, penetrating smile. + +"Ah, I see!" he said softly. "Judicious reservations!" + +But at that moment Lady Frances crossed the room, and pausing by the +roulette-table, set the ball spinning. + +"Come along, people!" she cried gaily. "Fortune smiles!" + +They all laughed and strolled across the room. + +"Come along!" Lady Frances urged again--"come, Rose!" She smiled at +Mrs. Bathurst. "Unlucky at bridge, lucky at roulette! Come, +Tory!--come, Val!" + +She glanced from Luard to Serracauld. + +There was another amused laugh, and all the party with the exception of +Clodagh stepped forward and placed one or many coins upon the table. + +Lady Frances' eyes were quick to detect the exception. With her fingers +poised above the board, she waited smilingly. + +"Won't you stake, Mrs. Milbanke?" she asked. + +Clodagh blushed, and stepped back shyly. At the same instant, +Serracauld moved forward to her side. + +"Oh, Mrs. Milbanke, but you must!" he cried. + +Again confusion covered Clodagh, as all eyes were turned upon her. + +"No, please!" she said. "I--I think I'd rather not." + +Barnard laughed suavely. + +"Mrs. Milbanke is wise!" he said. "She wants to see which way the gods +are pointing." + +"Then Mrs. Milbanke is unwise! The gods are jealous beings; we must not +treat them with suspicion. I'll stake for her!" + +It was Lord Deerehurst who spoke. And regardless of Clodagh's quick, +half-frightened expostulation, he stepped forward out of the little +circle, and placed a gold coin on the number thirteen. A moment later +Lady Frances gave a short amused laugh, and with a dexterous movement +of the fingers set the ball whizzing. + +To Clodagh it was a supreme--an extraordinary--moment. Until Lord +Deerehurst had made the stake--until the first click of the spinning +ball had struck upon her ear--she had been conscious of only one +feeling: a prejudiced, innate dread of every game--whether of chance or +skill--upon which money could be staked; but the simple placing of the +coin, the simple turning of the pivot had marked for her a +psychological moment. With a quick catching of the breath, she stepped +involuntarily forward, aware of but one fact--the keen, exhilarating +knowledge that the stopping of the ball must mean loss or +gain--individual loss or gain. + +During the dozen seconds that it spun round the circle, she stood +silent; then a faint sound of uncontrollable excitement slipped from +between her lips. Hers was the winning number! + +As in a dream, she extended her hand, and took the little heap of money +from the fingers of Luard, who had come to Lady Frances' assistance; +then, on the instant that the coins touched her palm, her excitement +evaporated; her sense of elation fell away, to be succeeded by the +first instinctive shrinking that had swayed her imagination. + +Acting purely upon impulse, she turned to Lord Deerehurst; and before +he could remonstrate, pressed the money into his hand. + +"Please take it!" she said urgently--"please take it! It isn't mine. It +oughtn't to be mine. I--I don't wish to play." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The little incident, trivial in itself, damped the general ardour for +roulette. After a dozen turns of the wheel, Lady Frances declared +herself satisfied. + +"Mrs. Milbanke has regenerated us--for the moment!" she cried. "I can't +play roulette to-night. But our turn will come; Mrs. Milbanke. We will +be revenged on you!" + +Her shrewd, smiling glance passed rapidly over Clodagh's face. + +Again the whole company laughed. + +"Mrs. Milbanke is a feminine Sir Galahad!" said Luard. "By the way, +Lady Frances, when is our irreproachable knight to honour Venice with +his presence?" + +He turned and looked banteringly at his hostess. + +Lady Frances smiled. + +"Oh, any day now," she returned. "But aren't you rather incorrigible?" + +"So Sir Galahad thinks!" he retorted, unabashed. "Is he an acquaintance +of yours, Mrs. Milbanke?" + +Clodagh smiled uncertainly; and Lady Frances laughed. + +"How ridiculous of you to expect Mrs. Milbanke to read your riddles!" +she said sharply. "The person this very disrespectful young man is +speaking of, Mrs. Milbanke, is Sir Walter Gore----" + +"The most admirable Sir Walter Gore!" interjected Luard. + +Lady Frances' sallow face flushed very slightly. + +"--Sir Walter Gore," she went on, ignoring the interruption, "who is +only twenty-nine--has been ten times round the world--and is imbued +with the deepest contempt for all modern social things." + +She laughed again, as she finished; but a fleeting change of expression +had passed over her face. + +Clodagh looked up smilingly. + +"And where is the likeness to me?" she asked. + +"Oh, you are both above mere human temptations, Mrs. Milbanke!" Luard +broke in irrepressibly. + +Lord Deerehurst, who had been listening to the conversation, lifted his +eyeglass. + +"But then Sir Walter Gore has been ten times round the world," he +remarked in his thin, dry voice. "And this is Mrs. Milbanke's first +visit to Venice." + +Again they all laughed, and Clodagh coloured. + +"You think my stoicism would not wear well?" she asked. + +Deerehurst looked at her searchingly. + +"Stoicism may be born of many characteristics," he said. "I am not in a +position to say from what yours springs. But"--he lowered his +voice.--"I do not think you are a natural stoic." + +She laughed and glanced uneasily round the little company, already +beginning to break up into groups of two and three. + +Observing the look, Lady Frances turned to her tactfully. "Come, Lord +Deerehurst!" she cried. "We are getting too serious. If you _must_ +philosophise, take Mrs. Milbanke on to the balcony, where she will have +something to distract her thoughts. For myself, I want to hear +Valentine sing. Val!" she called. "Come to the piano and make some +music! I'm surfeited with stringed instruments and Italian voices." + +She moved across the salon; and Lord Deerehurst turned to Clodagh. + +"May I follow our hostess's suggestion? May I talk philosophy on the +balcony?" + +She smiled. The slight strain, of which she had been conscious ever +since the incident of the roulette, lifted suddenly, and her earlier +sensation of elated excitement returned. + +"Yes, if you like," she responded brightly. "The balcony sounds very +tempting. And as for the philosophy, I can promise to listen--if I +can't promise to understand." + +She smiled afresh, and crossed the wide room, Deerehurst following +closely. + +As she passed the group of statuary and stepped through the open +window, Serracauld struck a chord or two on the piano, and an instant +later, his voice--a full strong voice, intensely passionate and +youthful--drifted across the salon and out into the night. + +At the first note Clodagh halted, surprised and enchanted by the sound; +and sinking silently into one of the balcony chairs, rested one arm on +the iron railing. + +The music Serracauld sang was French, and possessed much of the +distinction that marks that nation's art. The song was a hymn to +life--and its indispensable coadjutors, youth and love; and it went +with a peculiar lilt that stirred the blood and stimulated the fancy. +He sang it as it should be sung--easily and arrogantly; for, as +frequently happens with those who possess voices, he could express in +music thoughts, ideas, and emotions that never crossed his own selfish, +somewhat narrow soul. + +Clodagh, staring down into the dark waters in an attitude of wrapt +attention, drank in the song to its last note; and as the final +vibration died away, she looked round at Deerehurst with an expression +infinitely softened and enhanced. + +"How beautiful!" she said. "Oh, how beautiful!" + +Deerehurst, who had seated himself beside her, leant forward and rested +his own arm upon the balcony railing. + +"It is not the song that is beautiful, Mrs. Milbanke," he said, "but +the thoughts it has wakened in you." + +Clodagh looked at him in silent question. She was still under the spell +of the music, and saw nothing to resent in his cold gaze. + +"You were the instrument," he went on in the same lowered voice. "The +notes were not played upon the piano, but upon your brain. Your brain +is a network of sensitive strings, waiting to be played on by every +factor in life--music, colour, sunshine, emotion----" His tone sank. + +Clodagh glanced quickly at his tall, thin figure, seated so close to +her own, and at the wax-like, inscrutable face showing through the +dusk. + +"You seem to know me better than I know myself," she said uncertainly. + +He watched her intently for a moment; then he leant forward, his long, +pale fingers toying with the ribbon of his eyeglass. + +"I do know you better than you know yourself." + +She gave a little embarrassed laugh. + +"Then explain me to myself!" + +Again he seemed to study her; then he leant back in his chair with a +decisive movement. + +"No!" he said--"no! Not now! In a year--or two--or even three, perhaps. +But not now." + +She laughed again; and unconsciously a note of relief underran her +laugh--a relief that, by a natural sequence of emotion, brought a fresh +reaction to the coquetry of an hour ago. + +With a quick turn of the head, she looked up at him. "But how shall I +find you in a year--or two--or three?" + +She was distinctly conscious that the words held a challenge; but the +thought was fraught with the new intoxication that the evening had +created. + +With a swift movement, he bent closer to her. + +"The world is very small, Mrs. Milbanke--when one desires to make it +so." + +In the half light of the balcony, his pale eyes seemed to search hers. + +Involuntarily she blushed, but her glance met his steadily enough. + +"Not until one has been ten times round it!" she reminded him. + +He laughed his thin, amused laugh; then suddenly he became grave again. + +"Don't you feel," he said, "that when we desire a thing very greatly, +our own will power may bend circumstances?" + +Her eyes faltered, and her gaze moved to the gondolas flitting silently +below them. + +"I think I have given up desiring things greatly," she said in a low, +uneven voice. + +Deerehurst's eyelids narrowed. + +"Would it be presumptuous to ask why?" + +"No. Oh no!" + +"But you will not throw light upon my darkness?" + +She turned her head, and once more her gaze rested on his face. + +"No," she said softly, "it isn't that. It is that I don't believe I +could enlighten you--even if I would. I am a puzzle to myself." + +"The deeper a riddle, the more tempting its solution." + +Very quietly he drew still nearer, until his foot touched the hem of +her skirt. + +The action, more than the words, startled her. With a little laugh, she +drew back into her seat. + +"Perhaps it is no riddle after all!" she said quickly. "Perhaps it is +the lack of human nature--the likeness to Mr. Luard's 'Sir Galahad.'" + +She laughed again nervously. Then suddenly her own words suggested to +her a new and less dangerous channel of talk. + +"When is this wonderful person to be in Venice?" she asked. "I should +like to see him." + +But Lord Deerehurst had no intention of allowing another man's name to +interfere with his pleasure. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said earnestly, "may I ask you another question---a +serious one?" + +"Not till you've answered mine." + +"But this is personal--personal to you and me. The other is not." + +He bent over her chair; and, seemingly by accident, his hand brushed +her sleeve. + +"Mrs. Milbanke----" + +But even as his thin voice articulated her name, a shadow fell across +the lighted window behind them; and Serracauld, characteristically easy +and nonchalant in his movements, stepped on to the balcony. + +Clodagh turned with a short, faint laugh. The beating of her heart was +uneven, and her face felt hot. + +"Mr. Serracauld," she said impulsively, "when is Sir Walter Gore coming +to Venice? I have been asking Lord Deerehurst, but he cannot--or will +not tell me." + +Deerehurst, who at his nephew's approach had drawn quietly back into +his seat, looked up with perfect composure. + +"Yes, Valentine," he said smoothly, "I believe Gore has been making an +impression by proxy." + +Serracauld laughed. + +"Really!" he said. "How interesting! I shall look forward to the +meeting in the flesh." + +Again he laughed, as at something intensely amusing. And as Clodagh +turned towards him doubtfully, she saw him shoot a swift, satirical +glance at his uncle. + +"Why?" she asked quickly--"why should our meeting be interesting?" + +Once more a vague sense of antagonism assailed her--a vague distrust of +this new atmosphere. + +Serracauld answered at once in his light, ingratiating tone. + +"For no reason, Mrs. Milbanke, that you can possibly cavil at!" + +"But for what reason?" Her glance rested inquiringly on his face. "Do +tell me. I hate things that I cannot understand." + +Deerehurst smiled a little cynically. + +"A very youthful sentiment!" he murmured. "The older one grows, the +more one seeks the incomprehensible." + +His eyes rested upon her with a fixed regard. + +For a space she sat very still, attempting no rejoinder. Then, as if +suddenly moved to decisive action, she rose and turned towards the +lighted salon. + +"It's very late," she said quickly. "I must think about getting home." + +Serracauld stepped aside, and Deerehurst, who had risen with her, moved +forward. + +But with a swift gesture that ignored them both, she crossed the +balcony and stepped through the open window. + +After she had left them, the two men stood for a moment looking at each +other; then, with an elaborately careless gesture, Lord Deerehurst +raised his eyeglass and peered out across the dark canal. + +"Rather a pleasant little gathering to-night!" he said casually. "Rose +Bathurst looks particularly well." + +Serracauld's lips parted; then pursed themselves together, while he +cast one comprehensive glance at his uncle's stiff back. + +"Oh yes!--yes! Quite!" he rejoined vaguely; then, very swiftly, he +turned and hurried across the salon after Clodagh. + +She was bidding her hostess good-night as he reached her side; and his +attentive glance noted her heightened colour and her nervously alert +manner. + +"To-morrow night, then!" Lady Frances was saying; and he saw Clodagh +nod and smile. + +"To-morrow night!" she repeated. "Mr. Barnard, are you ready?" + +As she looked round for her cavalier, Serracauld stepped softly to her +side. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said, "you will not discard my uncle's gondola? He +is waiting to know if we may convey you home." + +She looked up at him with a faint suggestion of coldness and distrust. +Then, across the silence of her indecision, the low notes of the +Venetian night music broke forth again, as the musicians' gondola +passed the Palazzo Ugochini on its way homeward. For one moment it +seemed to sweep across the salon through the open windows; then it +faded into the distance, as the boat passed on up the canal. At the +sound, Clodagh's face involuntarily softened, her lips parted, and she +smiled. + +"Very well!" she acquiesced below her breath. "Tell Lord Deerehurst +that he may take me home." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +During the night that followed, Clodagh's excited thoughts scarcely +permitted her to sleep; but with that extraordinary reserve of strength +that springs from the combination of youth and health, she rose next +morning as fresh and untired as though she had enjoyed unbroken rest. + +Coming downstairs at half-past eight, the first person she encountered +was Milbanke, entering the hotel from the terrace. And spurred by her +own exuberant spirits, roused to a sense of general good-will by her +own rosy outlook upon life, she went quickly forward to greet him. + +"Good-morning, James!" she said. "I hope you haven't been tiring +yourself." + +It struck her as an after impression that he looked slightly worn and +fatigued. + +As he took her hand, he smiled, gratified by her concern. + +"Not at all, my dear!" he responded--"not at all! I have had an hour's +excursion with Mr. Tomes. I assure you I had no idea that the bye-ways +of Venice were so interesting." + +"All Venice is heavenly." + +Clodagh's glance wandered across the terrace to the canal, radiant in +the early light. + +Milbanke raised his head, arrested by the fervour of her tone. + +"Then you--you enjoyed yourself last night?" he ventured with unusual +penetration. + +"Oh, so much!" She turned to him with a glowing smile that betrayed a +warm desire for universal confidence and sympathy. "So much! Mr. +Barnard and the tall, dark-haired boy that you met last evening took me +round the canals in the most beautiful gondola belonging to Lord +Deerehurst. We saw all the interesting people from the hotels, and +heard the music; and afterwards Mr. Barnard brought me to the Palazzo +Ugochini and introduced me to Lady Frances Hope. She was charmingly +kind and hospitable; and made me promise to go again to-night--and to +bring you." + +Milbanke's face fell. + +"But, my dear----" he began deprecatingly. + +"Oh, you must come!--you must! Lady Frances Hope feels sure she has met +you before. You must come!" + +Milbanke looked distressed. + +"But, my dear----" + +"Yes, I know you hate society. But just this once--I--I _wish_ you to +come----" + +She made the appeal with a sudden anxious gesture, born of a very +subtle, a very instinctive motive--a motive that had for its basis an +obscure and quite unacknowledged sense of self-protection. + +Milbanke--materialist born--heard only the words, noting nothing of the +undermeaning. + +"But, my dear," he expostulated, "the thing is--is impossible. Mr. +Angelo Tomes has promised to expound his theories to me after dinner +to-night----" + +He looked at her nervously. + +She was silent for a minute or two--suddenly and profoundly conscious +that, in all the radiant glory of her surroundings, she stood alone. At +the painful consciousness, she felt her throat swell, but with a +defiant refusal to be conquered by her feelings, she gave a quick, high +laugh. + +"Oh, very well!" she cried--"very well! As you like!" + +And without looking at him again, she turned and entered the +coffee-room of the hotel. + +Having partaken very hastily of her morning meal, she returned to the +terrace, where--among the other early loungers--she found Barnard, +reading his English newspapers. Seeing her, he threw the papers down, +jumped to his feet, and came forward with evident pleasure. + +"Good-morning!" he said cordially--"good-morning. You look as fresh as +a flower, after last night's dissipation." + +She took his hand and met his suave smile with a sense of relief. + +"Good-morning!" she returned softly. "Have you seen James? He +breakfasted hours ago." + +"Yes," he said--"oh yes! I was talking to him just now. He has gone to +write letters." + +"To write letters!" + +There was no curiosity and very little interest audible in Clodagh's +tone. + +"So he said. And you? What are you going to do?" + +She looked up and smiled again. + +"To idle," she said. "I have an inherited gift for idling." + +Barnard smiled, then glanced along the terrace with an air of pretended +secrecy. + +"Take me into partnership!" he said in a whisper. "My clients don't +know it, but I'm constitutionally the laziest beggar alive. Do let me +idle in your company for half an hour? The canals are delightful in the +early morning----" + +He indicated the flight of stone steps, round which one or two gondolas +were hovering in expectation of a fare. + +Clodagh's glance followed his; and her face insensibly brightened. + +"I should love it," she said. + +"Truly?" + +She nodded. + +"Right! Then the thing is done." + +He hurried forward. And with a little thrill of pleasureable +anticipation, she saw one of the loitering gondolas glide up to the +steps. + +For the first few moments after they had entered the boat, she was +silent; for in the iridescent morning light, Venice made a new appeal; +then gradually--insidiously--as the charm of her surroundings began to +soothe her senses, the encounter with Milbanke melted from her mind; +and the subtle environment bred of last night's adulation rose again, +turning the world golden. + +As they passed the Palazzo Ugochini, she looked up at the closed +windows of the first floor; then almost immediately she turned to her +companion. + +"Mr. Barnard," she said suddenly, "I want to ask you a question. I want +you to explain something." + +And Barnard, closely studious of her demeanour, felt insensibly that +her mood had changed--that, by a fine connection of suggestions, she +was not the same being who had stepped into the gondola from the hotel +steps. With a genial movement, he bent his head. + +"Command me!" he said. + +Before replying, she took another swift glance at the closed windows; +then she turned again and met his eyes. + +"Tell me why this friend of Lady Frances Hope's is called 'Sir +Galahad'?" + +He smiled. + +"Gore?" he said with slightly amused surprise. "I didn't know you were +interested in Gore." + +"I am not. But please tell me. I want to know!" + +His smile broadened. + +"The nick-name surely explains itself." + +"Somebody with an ideal? Somebody above temptation?" + +"Precisely." + +She pondered over this reply for a moment; then she opened a fresh +attack. + +"Then why should Lord Deerehurst and Mr. Serracauld have smiled when +they spoke of his meeting me?" + +Barnard looked up in unfeigned astonishment; then he laughed. + +"Upon my word, Mrs. Milbanke," he cried, "you are absolutely unique!" + +Clodagh flushed. For one second she wavered on the borderland of +offence; then her mood--her sense of the ridiculous and the sunny +atmosphere of the morning--conquered. She responded with a laugh. + +"I suppose I'm not like other people," she said. + +"--For which you should say grace every hour of your life!" Barnard +turned and looked into her glowing face. "But I'll satisfy your +curiosity. Gore is known in his own set as a man who obstinately--and +against all reason--refuses to believe in--well, for instance, in the +interesting young married woman." + +Clodagh's lips parted. + +"But what----" she began impetuously; then she stopped. + +Barnard continued to look at her. + +"Isn't the inference of the smile somewhat obvious?" + +Her glance fell. + +"Oh!" she said--"oh! I suppose--I suppose I see." + +"Precisely." + +"But surely----" she began afresh; then again intuition interfered, +though this time to a different end. It was not the moment--it was not +the atmosphere--in which to parade one's sentiments! With the too ready +facility of her nation for adapting itself to environment, she laughed +suddenly and gaily at her own passing prudery, and raised a bright face +to Barnard's. + +"And when he meets these interesting young married women?" she asked +amusedly. + +"Ah, there he dubs himself 'Sir Galahad'! Some people call him a saint, +for keeping his eyes on the ground; others call him a sinner, for not +picking up what he sees there. In reality, he is neither sinner nor +saint; but just that enviable creation--a man who is self-sufficing." + +While he spoke, and for some time after he had ceased to speak, Clodagh +sat silent. She was leaning over the side of the gondola and looking +down into the calm water, her warm face touched by a mischievous +expression, her hazel eyes half closed. At last she spoke, but without +raising her head. + +"And you are all waiting for the person who will make him see the need +for some one else?" + +She waited for Barnard's answer, but it did not come. Sensitive to the +silence, she raised her head. Then her self-consciousness left her, +superseded by curiosity. As she looked up, she saw her companion lean +forward and wave a cheerful greeting to the occupant of a gondola +approaching them from the direction of the railway station. +Involuntarily she changed her position and her glance followed his. + +The passing of the two gondolas occupied no more than a minute. But the +incidents comprised in some minutes remain with us all our lives. The +approaching boat was a large one, rowed by two gondoliers; for, though +it had only one passenger, it carried a pile of luggage, much +travel-worn. Clodagh's eyes noted this, but they did so very briefly; +for instantly the gondola drew level with her own, her glance lifted +itself to the owner of the luggage--the man to whom Barnard had waved +his greeting. + +She saw him with great distinctness, for the early light in Italy is +peculiarly penetrating; and her first thought--a purely instinctive +one--was that he possessed a sailor's face. His strong, clean-cut +features suggested a keen and intimate relationship with natural +elements; his healthily clear skin was tanned by sun and wind; and his +eyes looked out upon the world with the quiet reliance that seems a +reflexion of the steadfast ocean. The first impression of the man was +vaguely daunting. There was something self-contained, even cold, in the +erect pose of his tall, muscular figure, in the manner in which he held +his head. Then, quite unexpectedly, his critic gained a new impression +of him. As the gondolas passed each other, he leant forward in his seat +and his lips parted in a very pleasant smile. + +"Ubiquitous as usual, Barnard!" he called in a strong, fresh voice. "I +might have known you would be the first man I should run across!" + +He raised his cap, and Clodagh saw that his hair was crisp, close-cut, +and very fair, giving an agreeable touch of youthfulness to his +sunburnt face. + +Barnard laughed, and responded with some words of welcome. + +The stranger smiled and nodded. + +"Come round and see me this afternoon!" he cried, as the gondolas drew +apart. "I'm staying at the Danieli!" + +"Who was that?" Clodagh asked involuntarily, as the stranger's boat +glided out of sight. Then she blushed suddenly. "Why are you laughing?" +she demanded. + +Barnard smiled. + +"I am not laughing, Mrs. Milbanke," he murmured. "I assure you I am not +laughing. It is the merest smile at nature's little bit of stage +management. That interestingly bronzed young Englishman is Sir Walter +Gore!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +This little incident--this small and yet significant interlude--in +Clodagh's day of new-born freedom, possessed a weight and an importance +all its own. It is quite possible that, taken as a mere note in the +tuneful, inconsequent symphony of her social life in Venice, Barnard's +expression of his sentiments might have glanced across her mind, +leaving no definite impression. But the web of fate is wonderfully +woven. Barnard had propounded those sentiments through the medium of a +name--a name which was to be indelibly printed upon Clodagh's memory by +the strangely opportune appearance of its owner. + +At the moment when the gondolas passed, at the moment when Barnard +laughingly explained the stranger's identity, the name of Walter Gore +took on a new significance, became a personal element in touch with her +own existence. + +In studying the effect of this incident upon her actions, it must be +borne in mind that Clodagh's moral position was strangely +incongruous--a position to which not one amongst her new acquaintances +possessed a key. She was a married woman with the vitality, the +curiosity, the sense of adventure of a girl in her first season. She +was like a plant that, having been shut for long in dark places, is +suddenly exposed to the influences of warmth and light. She glowed, she +blossomed, she expanded under every passing touch. + +As she leant back against the cushions of the gondola and met the +amused and quizzical glance that accompanied Barnard's explanation, her +thoughts sprang forward under a certain stimulus of excitement; her +blood--the blood of a reckless, adventurous race--leaped suddenly in +response to a new idea. She looked up at her companion, her face +glowing, her hands clasped lightly in her lap. + +"Mr. Barnard," she said, "will Sir Walter Gore be at the Palazzo +Ugochini to-night?" + +Barnard met her glance. For a moment he studied her whimsically, then +he responded by putting a question of his own. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he asked, "is it true that when you dare an Irishwoman +to do a certain thing, that thing is as good as done?" + +Clodagh's lashes fluttered, and she coloured hotly; then with the naive +defiance, the intoxication of youthful assurance, she lifted her eyes +again and gave another bright, clear laugh. + +"Two unanswered questions should be as good as one reply!" she said, +looking straight into his face. + + +All that day Clodagh went about her concerns with a delightful, furtive +sense of things to come. In the evening she came down to dinner arrayed +in a dress of lace and embroidery that had come from Vienna only three +weeks before. The dress possessed sweeping lines that defined her +slight figure; and above the jewelled lace of the bodice her graceful +shoulders, smooth as ivory, and as warm in tone, showed bare of any +ornament. The faint olive of her skin was enriched by the neutral +colour of her dress, and in the bright light of the hotel rooms, the +underlying gleam of gold was distinctly visible in her brown hair. Her +whole appearance as she entered the dining-room was subtly attractive; +and in every detail of her expression pleasure and anticipation gleamed +like tangible things. From the colour that wavered in her cheeks to the +dilated pupils that turned her eyes from hazel to black, she was the +embodiment of eager expectation. + +Neither Deerehurst, Serracauld, nor Barnard dined at the hotel that +night, but from the eyes of more than one stranger she read the +assurance that she had not arrayed herself in vain; and youthfully +conscious of a subtle, impersonal success, her eager spirits rose high. + +Regardless of Milbanke's monosyllabic answers, she kept up a stream of +conversation; and at last, when she rose with the general company, she +did not leave the room, but paused with her hand on the back of his +chair. + +"I am going for my cloak, James," she said. "Mr. Barnard is to call for +me. Shall we say good-night now?" Her face, as she bent forward, +leaning over his shoulder, was filled with a bright preoccupation. + +The scene was no new one--nor was its lesson new. It merely expounded +the eternal disparity between the present generation and the past. On +the one hand, was the patient surrender of the being who has known life +with its poor compensations and its tardy requitals; on the other, the +impatience, the ardour, the egotism of the being who longs to +understand, to tear the bandage from his blind, curious eyes, to shake +the fetters from his eager, groping hands. It was a scene that is +enacted every day of every year by fathers and daughters, mothers and +sons. A scene in which, daily and yearly, a merciful nature mitigates +the tragic truth by means of a blessed sanity--an instinctive +renunciation. But this was no case for natural healing balm; this was +no case of father and daughter, but of husband and wife. + +"Shall we say good-night?" Clodagh asked again. + +Milbanke started and looked up; and something in her warm +beauty--something in her gracious youth affected him. + +"Clodagh," he said timidly. "Clodagh, are you--are you very anxious? +Will you enjoy this party very much?" + +Clodagh looked down on him in frank surprise. + +"Why, of course!" she said. "Why do you ask?" + +His gaze wavered before her level glance. He looked round at the fast +emptying room. + +"No reason, my dear!" he murmured--"no reason, I assure you! Go to your +party. Enjoy yourself!" + +At his words she bent quickly and brushed his forehead with her lips, +but so lightly, so unthinkingly that the act was valueless. + +"Good-night!" she said--"good-night, James! And thank you!" + +She straightened herself quickly; and with a mind already speeding +feverishly forward towards the night's amusement, she turned and walked +out of the room. + +It was nine o'clock when she and Barnard arrived at the Palazzo +Ugochini, and already the deep purple of the Venetian night was +wrapping the waterways in mysterious shade. But to-night she was less +absorbed in outward things. An engrossing idea occupied her mind. She +felt at once surer--and less sure--of herself than she had felt the +night before. + +The time occupied in reaching the palace and mounting the marble steps +seemed to her very brief; and almost before she realised that the +moment had come, she heard her own and Barnard's names announced by +Lady Frances Hope's English servant. + +Her first sensation upon entering the salon, was an almost childish +satisfaction in the thought that she had dressed so carefully; for it +needed but a glance to show her that the evening's gathering was of a +very much more important nature than that of the previous night. Quite +fifty people were grouped about the lofty room, whose centre and pivot +was again the gaudy, modern roulette-table; and towards this table, +with its surrounding group of gay and noisy votaries, she and Barnard +turned as if by instinct. + +Nearing the circle of players, she saw that Luard--her acquaintance of +last evening--was officiating at the game to the delight and amusement +of his clients; while at a little distance from the table, she caught +sight of her hostess in conversation with a tall man whose remarkably +fair and close-cropped hair gave her a sudden thrill of recognition. + +As in duty bound, she walked straight forward to where Lady Frances was +standing. And as she murmured her greeting, her hostess turned quickly, +appraising in a single rapid glance her dress, her hair, her +complexion, while she extended her hand with a cordial gesture. It may +be possible that the cordiality cost Lady Frances an effort--that the +smile with which she greeted her radiant guest covered a suggestion of +feminine chagrin; but if so, no one detected it. Her welcome sounded +genuine and even warm. + +"My dear Mrs. Milbanke!" she exclaimed. "How charming of you to +remember! And how charming you look!" she added in a whisper meant for +Clodagh's ear alone. + +Then with a movement of seemingly spontaneous hospitality, she turned +to the fair-haired stranger, who had fallen into conversation with +Barnard. + +"Walter!" she said, "I should like you to know Mrs. Milbanke! Mrs. +Milbanke, allow me to introduce Sir Walter Gore!" + +It was the affair of a moment. The stranger made a gesture of excuse to +Barnard; turned quickly, and bowed with well-bred deference. Then he +raised his head, and for the first time Clodagh met his glance--the +clear, fearless glance, slightly reserved, slightly aloof, that carried +with it the suggestion of the sea. His look was quiet, steady, and +absolutely impersonal. + +And Clodagh, instantly conscious of this polite reserve, felt her face +redden. She was aware of a distinct sensation of being smaller--less +important to the scheme of things--than she had been five minutes +earlier. Her vanity was inexplicably--yet palpably--hurt. Her first +feeling was a distressed humility, her second an angry pride. Then a +new expression leaped into her eyes. Smartingly conscious of Barnard's +interested, quizzical glance fixed expectantly upon her, she challenged +the stranger's regard. + +"How d'you do?" she said. "I think I have seen you before." + +He smiled politely. + +"Indeed!" he said. "In England?" His tone was courteous and attentive, +but neither curious nor interested. + +Her colour deepened. + +"No. Here in Venice--this morning. I was in Mr. Barnard's gondola when +you were coming from the station to your hotel." + +He looked at her, then at Barnard--a perfectly honest, unaffected +glance. + +"Indeed!" he said again. "I certainly remember seeing that Barnard was +not alone, but I was remiss enough not to notice who the lady was." + +For one second a feeling of resentment--almost of dislike--stung +Clodagh. The next, her old daring mood of years ago sprang up within +her. + +"Where I come from," she said, "no man would have the courage to say +that." + +Barnard laughed. + +"Assume a virtue, if you have it not! Is that the Irish code?" + +Gore smiled. + +"If that _is_ the Irish code," he said gravely. "I'm afraid Ireland only +echoes the rest of Europe. Assumption is the art of the twentieth +century. The man who can assume most, climbs highest! Isn't that so, +Lady Frances?" + +He turned to their hostess. + +Clodagh stood silent. She was filled with a humiliating, childish +sensation of having been rebuked--rebuked by some one whose natural +superiority placed him beyond reach of childish temper or childish +violence. The sensation that many a time in old and distant days had +sent her flying to the shelter of Hannah's arms, rose intolerably keen. +With a defiant sense of futility and loneliness, she turned away from +the little group--only to encounter the pallid face and stiff, +distinguished figure of Lord Deerehurst, as he came slowly towards her +across the room. + +Extending his hand, he took her fingers and bowed over them. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said, "I have just been mentally accusing Lady +Frances of surrounding me by so many acquaintances that I could not +find one friend. Now I desire to retract!" + +In the sudden relief--the sudden touch of unexpected +flattery--Clodagh's mobile face underwent a change. + +"Then you have found a friend?" she said. + +At sound of the words, Sir Walter Gore involuntarily turned; and, +seeing the old peer, made a slight movement of surprise and extended +his hand. + +"Lord Deerehurst!" he said. "I did not know you were in Venice!" + +They shook hands without cordiality; and having murmured some +conventional remark, the older man turned again to Clodagh. + +"Yes," he said, "I have found a friend!" + +His cold eyes gave point to the words. + +She laughed and coloured. Again she was conscious of Barnard's amused, +speculative gaze; but also she was conscious of the quiet, slightly +critical eyes of her new acquaintance. Goaded by the double spur, she +glanced up into Deerehurst's face. + +"Well?" she said. "And now?" + +"Now I am in my friend's hands." + +He made a profound and eloquent bow. + +Again she coloured, but again vanity and mortification stirred her +blood. With a winning movement, she took a step forward. + +"Your friend would like to listen to philosophy on the balcony," she +said in a recklessly low voice. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +To the superficial student of Clodagh's character, this development of +a phase in her mental growth may present itself as something +distasteful--even unworthy; but to the serious student of human nature, +with its manifold and wonderful complexities, it must perforce come +clothed in a different guise. + +Placed by circumstances in a singularly isolated position--springing +from a race in whom love of power, love of admiration, love of love +itself are inherent qualities--it is not to be wondered at that, in the +first flush of her realised sovereignty over men, she should view the +world from a slightly giddy altitude. + +No one grudges her triumphs and her innocent intrigues to the girl in +her first season. Humanity looks on indulgently while she breaks her +first lance with the candid joy, the pardonable egotism that is bred of +youth. And, incongruous as it may sound, Clodagh's was the position of +the debutante. She was comprehending for the first time--and +comprehending with accumulated emotion--the fact that she possessed an +individual path in life. And with the arrogance of inexperience, she +sprang to the conclusion that every foot crossing that path, should +yield her a toll of homage. + +And now one foot had crossed it without pause, without even a desire to +linger! Her cheeks burned under the smart of her hurt vanity, as she +turned from the little group that surrounded Lady Frances Hope, and +allowed Deerehurst to lead her across the salon. Her emotions were many +and confused, but one personality occupied her thoughts against the +angry expostulations of her reason. By an illogical, but very human +sequence of impressions, Sir Walter Gore had, in one moment, become the +most objectionable--and the most interesting--person of her +acquaintance. + +As she stepped out upon the balcony, Deerehurst drew forward the low +chair that she had occupied the night before; and she sank into it with +a little sigh. For the first time in the glamour of her new-found +excitement, she felt glad to escape from the crowd and the lights of +the salon. + +For a while her companion made no effort to break the silence that she +seemed anxious to preserve, then at last he changed his position, +stepped softly forward, and laid his hand on the back of her chair. + +"Is what Barnard tells me true?" he asked. "Are you really leaving +Venice in a week?" + +She bent her head without looking up. + +"But surely we can persuade you----" + +His voice quickened, then broke off, as Clodagh turned to him. + +"Does it matter to any one whether I go or stay?" she asked in a +slightly tremulous voice. + +The only surprise that Deerehurst betrayed, was shown in the narrowing +of his cold eyes. He studied her penetratingly for a moment; then he +spoke again very quietly. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said, "can you ask that question in good faith?" + +A faint touch of last night's embarrassment wavered across her mind, +but this time she swept it defiantly aside. + +"Yes; I mean it." + +She turned, and again looked up into his face. + +"And am I to answer in good faith?" + +She bent her head, still looking at him. + +"Then judging by the one case of which I can confidently speak, +yes!--distinctly yes!" + +There was a pause; and Clodagh gave a faint laugh. + +"And whose is the one case?" + +Her voice sounded cool, high, even slightly indifferent. It piqued +Deerehurst to a further step. He answered her question with another. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said, "have you ever heard of Circe?" + +Again she laughed. + +"My education was extensive, if very intermittent," she said. "Yes, I +have heard of Circe--and her wild beasts." + +He echoed the laugh in his thin, expressive voice. + +"I see the implication! But I would willingly play even wild beast--to +your Circe!" + +He bent over her chair. + +She drew away with a slight, sharp movement; but he did not alter his +position. + +"Do you know that a man would follow you--anywhere?" + +"Anywhere?" + +"Anywhere." + +He let his hand glide softly from the back of the chair to her +shoulder. + +At the touch of his fingers, she slipped away from him with a noiseless +movement, and rose to her feet. + +"Then follow me back to the salon!" she said in a voice that still +sounded high and light. + +There was a constrained pause, but it was one of short duration. +Deerehurst was not the man to be easily taken at a disadvantage. For +one instant a glimmering of chagrin showed on his composed face; the +next it was gone. He straightened his dignified figure, and felt +mechanically for his eyeglass. + +"'Pon my word!" he said. "I believe you _are_ Circe. Use your +prerogative!" + +He turned, laughed a little, and indicated the salon with a courtly +gesture. + +Clodagh looked at him. He puzzled and disconcerted her. To one whose +innate instinct was a yielding to impulse, his absolute impassivity in +face of disconcerting situations was something incomprehensible. And +now, as he stepped aside to give her passage, she gave a quick laugh, +expressive of both embarrassment and relief; and crossed the balcony +with a certain instinctive haste. + +During their absence, the crowd in the salon had increased; the press +about the roulette-table had become denser; while at half a dozen +card-tables, sheltered from the general gathering by large screens of +old Italian leather-work, parties of four were playing bridge. + +Ignoring these latter groups, Clodagh crossed the room towards the +roulette-table, and paused upon the outskirts of the crowd that +surrounded it. + +Deerehurst, following her closely, narrowed his eyes with a touch of +interest as he saw that, either by intention or accident, she had +halted beside Sir Walter Gore. + +"Well," he said in his thin, satirical voice, as he gained her +side--"well, shall we combine forces as we did last night? I brought +you luck, remember!" + +She turned upon him almost sharply. + +"No!" she said--"no! I don't play roulette." + +At the vehemence of her denial, he raised his eyebrows; and Sir Walter +Gore looked round. Seeing the speaker, an involuntary gleam of surprise +crossed his face. + +"Surely you are not so unfashionable as to disapprove of gambling, Mrs. +Milbanke?" he asked. + +Clodagh raised her eyes; and this time her glance was free from +coquetry. + +"I have not been fashionably brought up," she said. + +"Indeed!" + +The surprise--and, with it, a reluctant interest--deepened in Gore's +glance. But his eyes wandered doubtfully over her dress. + +Invariably quick to follow a train of thought, she gave a short, +comprehending laugh. + +"Oh, I know what you are thinking of!" she cried. "I don't look as if I +belong to the wilds. People never understand that dressing is a knack +that comes to women, and does not really mean anything." + +He smiled, amused against his will. + +Again she laughed, like a child who has been praised. + +"Oh, it's quite true!" she added. "I could tell you of dozens of +cases----" + +But her flow of confidence was suddenly terminated. Valentine +Serracauld, catching sight of her through the throng of people, had +made a hasty way towards her. His finely cut colourless face was +animated and his dark grey eyes looked excited. + +"How d'you do?--how d'you do, Mrs. Milbanke?" he exclaimed. "Please +congratulate me! I've had a run of luck! Netted seventy pounds!" + +Clodagh's lips parted. + +"Seventy pounds!" she said breathlessly, and instinctively she turned +to Gore. But Gore's place was empty. At Serracauld's approach, he had +moved unostentatiously away. + +At the knowledge that he was gone, a sense of disappointment fell upon +her. She glanced uncertainly at Deerehurst. + +The old peer, who had been a cynical observer of the little scene, gave +a thin laugh. + +"Our friend Gore is fearful of contamination," he said, glancing at his +nephew. + +Serracauld laughed. + +"Gore!" he said contemptuously. "Oh, Gore and I never did chum up! But +where have you been hiding yourself all day?" He turned again to +Clodagh. "We have had dark suspicions that old Barny has been buying up +your society with Stock Exchange tips. Come, now, confess!" He paused +and laughed, looking with intent admiration into her expressive face. + +And Clodagh--sailing upon the tide of present things, elated by the +eager interest of two men, and excited by the grudging interest of a +third--forgot that, for every frail craft such as hers, there is an +ultimate harbour to be gained, a future to be reckoned with. She lifted +her head, met Serracauld's searching glance, and echoed his +inconsequent laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The next day Clodagh made one of a party to the Lido, and the same +night accompanied Lady Frances Hope, Deerehurst, and Serracauld to a +theatre; but on neither occasion did she meet, or even see, Sir Walter +Gore. + +On the afternoon of the second day, however, he again appeared upon the +scene of her interests, and in an unexpected manner. + +The hour was six; and she, with Barnard and Milbanke, was seated on the +hotel terrace, chatting desultorily in the warmth of the early evening. + +While they talked, a gondola glided up to the hotel steps; and in the +glow of the waning sun, they saw Gore step from the boat, pause to give +some order to the gondolier, and then mount the stone steps. + +They all three saw him simultaneously. Clodagh, to her own annoyance, +coloured; and Barnard smiled in his observant, quizzical fashion. + +"I didn't tell you that Gore was coming to see me this afternoon, Mrs. +Milbanke," he said in an undertone. "I had a fancy that you might run +away." + +The flush on Clodagh's face deepened. + +"Run away?" she exclaimed in angry haste. + +But Barnard rose without replying, and went forward to meet his +visitor. + +Having greeted his host, Gore turned to Clodagh. + +"How d'you do, Mrs. Milbanke?" he said, raising his hat. Then he looked +interrogatively at Milbanke. + +Barnard made a sweeping gesture. + +"My old friend Mr. James Milbanke!" he said. "James, Sir Walter Gore!" + +Milbanke looked up quickly; and the younger man held out his hand with +a pleasant touch of cordiality. + +"How d'you do, sir?" he said. "Are you making a long stay in Venice?" + +With a friendly movement, he pulled forward one of the wicker chairs +and seated himself beside Milbanke. + +Clodagh, leaning far back in her own long, low seat, looked at him +curiously. Unconsciously the remembrance of Serracauld's careless +manner upon a similar occasion of first introduction recurred to her +mind, coupled with the knowledge of Barnard's contemptuous idea of her +husband--his fads and his peculiarities. What could this man see to +attract him in a dry archaeologist of twice his age? She found herself +waiting intently for his next remark--his next action. + +"Are you making a long stay?" he repeated, settling himself in his +chair. + +Milbanke, surprised and pleased at the unexpected attention, sat up +stiffly in his seat. + +"Oh no!" he said--"no! We are leaving in three or four days. I--I am +interested in antiquity, and should, properly speaking, be in Sicily at +the present moment. Perhaps you have heard of the very remarkable +researches that are being carried on there?" + +Gore smiled. + +"No, I'm afraid I must confess ignorance. I know disgracefully little +about the past." + +Barnard, fearing a dissertation from Milbanke, interrupted with a +laugh. + +"I'm afraid most of us find the present more alluring!" + +He cast a swift glance at Clodagh. + +But Clodagh, still annoyed with him, and with herself--still puzzled by +Gore's attitude--lifted her head sharply. + +"At least," she said, "we can be sure that the present is genuine." + +Gore turned and looked at her. + +"Are you quite sure of that, Mrs. Milbanke?" he asked quietly. "Don't +you think there is trickery and deception in the manufacture of many +things besides the antique?" + +Her glance faltered. + +"I have seen a lot of unauthentic relics," she said with a touch of +obstinacy. + +"And I, a lot of unauthentic life." + +He looked at her with a slight smile. The smile stung her unreasonably. + +"Some people can never become connoisseurs," she retorted quickly. + +Gore laughed, but without offence. + +"Not of treasures, perhaps, but with experience and observation, surely +any one can become a judge of men--and women." + +Clodagh forced herself to smile. + +"You disapprove of women?" + +"Disapprove! Indeed, no!" + +But here Barnard interposed with one of his suave gestures. + +"He only disapproves of the modern woman, Mrs. Milbanke!" + +Gore turned to him good-humouredly. + +"Wrong, Barnard!" he said. "I admire the modern woman--the truly modern +woman. It is the society woman--of any period--that I lose patience +with." + +Barnard smiled. + +"The present-day woman is very proud of her complex life," he said +smoothly, "her big card debts and her little intrigues." + +Gore's healthy face turned a shade redder. + +"I know!" he said tersely. "But to me, a woman with no higher ambition +than the playing of cards winter and summer, afternoon after afternoon, +is--is pitiable." + +Clodagh leant forward. + +"Perhaps they play cards because they have no real interests." + +He looked at her quickly. + +"And why have they no real interests, Mrs. Milbanke? Isn't it because +they reject all simple, natural, wholesome things? Such women do not +know the meaning of the word home. They do not want a home--or home +life, as the women of the last generation understood it." + +"Ah, there you touch bottom, my dear Gore! There you are in your +depth!" Again Barnard gave one of his smooth, tactful laughs. "This +young man has a great pull over us, Mrs. Milbanke, when he compares the +present generation with the past." + +At the suave words, Gore made a slightly embarrassed gesture, and +looked instinctively towards Milbanke. + +"Forgive my tirade, sir!" he said a little confusedly. "Mr. Barnard is +right. I have rather a high ideal of womanhood. I am possessed of a--a +very remarkable mother." + +"A mother!" Clodagh looked round impulsively. "Oh, tell me what she is +like!" + +With a certain spontaneity, Gore turned to respond to her question; but +before his eyes met hers, their glance was intercepted by a shrewd, +amused, inquiring look from Barnard. The effect of the look was +strange. His emotion so suddenly aroused, died suddenly. His face +became passive, even a little cold. He straightened his shoulders, and +gave the restrained, self-conscious laugh that the Englishman resorts +to when he feels that his sentiments have entrapped him. + +"Oh, you must not ask me what my mother is like, Mrs. Milbanke," he +said. "I could not give you an unbiassed opinion. As it is, I have been +wasting your time unpardonably. Barnard, do you think Mrs. Milbanke +will excuse you for ten minutes?" + +Barnard rose slowly. + +"Do not put me to the pain of saying 'yes,'" he exclaimed. "Let me +imagine that I am tearing myself away against Mrs. Milbanke's express +desire. Au revoir, Mrs. Milbanke! Au revoir, James!" + +He nodded, and sauntered off in the direction of the hotel door. + +A moment later Gore shook hands silently with Clodagh and her husband, +and moved away in the same direction. + +As he disappeared into the hotel, Milbanke folded his newspaper with +interested haste. + +"What a well-mannered young man!" he said. "Who is he? What is his +name?" + +Clodagh was sitting very still, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes +fixed upon some distant object. + +"Gore," she said shortly--"Gore. Sir Walter Gore." + +"Gore!" Milbanke repeated the name as though it pleased him. "A fine +young fellow! Very unlike the majority of young men of the present +day." + +Clodagh said nothing. + +"Don't you agree with me, my dear?" + +As if by an effort, she recalled her wandering gaze, turned her head +slowly, and looked at her husband. + +"He--he certainly seems unlike other people," she admitted in a low +voice. + +After this rejoinder there was silence. Clodagh, her brows drawn +together in a perplexed frown, relapsed into her former absorbed +contemplation; while Milbanke, having changed his position once or +twice, shook out the sheets of his newspaper and buried himself in the +lengthy report of a scientific meeting. + +But scarcely had he reached the end of his first paragraph, than a +large shadow fell across the page, and, looking up quickly, he saw the +ponderous figure of Mr. Angelo Tomes. + +At the sight of his hero he started, coloured with pleasure, and rose +hastily. + +"Mr. Tomes!" he exclaimed. "Clodagh, my dear, here is Mr. Tomes!" + +Clodagh turned without enthusiasm, and looked at the loose figure and +unkempt hair of the scientist. + +"I do not think you and my--my wife have met, Mr. Tomes!" Milbanke +broke in with a nervous attempt at geniality. + +Mr. Tomes bowed. + +"No; but I have many times seen Mrs. Milbanke," he said ponderously. + +Clodagh bent her head, noting with the fastidious intolerance of youth +that his clothes were baggy and his hands unclean. + +Milbanke gave a nervous, conciliatory laugh. + +"I--I have noticed that great men are always observant," he said +jocularly. + +Mr. Tomes smiled. + +"That is scarcely a compliment to Mrs. Milbanke," he interposed +consciously. + +Clodagh looked up and met his eyes. + +"I don't wish to be paid compliments, Mr. Tomes," she said. "Please +don't try to think of any. Did you come to take my husband out?" + +Mr. Tomes stammered, visibly crestfallen. + +"Well," he began, "there is a certain archway in one of the smaller +churches, which I think Mr. Milbanke ought to see. But as an archway is +not too weighty for a lady's consideration, it struck me--it occurred +to me----" + +But Clodagh cut him short. + +"Oh, Mr. Tomes, I'm much too frivolous even for archways. Don't take me +into your calculations; I should only spoil them. Of course it's very +kind of you," she added with tardy remorse, "but the experiment would +be a failure. Ask my husband----" + +Milbanke looked distressed. + +"Oh, my dear----" he began. + +But Clodagh's nerves were jarred. + +"I know!" she broke in--"I know it's awfully kind of Mr. Tomes! But I +couldn't go to see an archway to-day. I couldn't. I really--really +couldn't." + +Mr. Tomes relapsed into a state of pompous offence. + +Milbanke looked from one to the other in nervous misery. + +"Certainly not--certainly not, my dear!" he agreed. "You are tired; you +have been doing too much." He peered at her through the softly falling +twilight with a look of helpless concern. + +She felt, rather than saw the look; and that sensitive dread of being +rendered conspicuous that attacks us all in early life, caused her to +shrink into herself. + +"Nonsense!" she said a little coldly. "I am perfectly well. Please go +and see Mr. Tomes's archway. I don't mind being left alone. I would +like to be left alone." + +Milbanke stirred uneasily. + +"Of course, my dear, if you wish it!" he murmured. "Mr. Tomes, shall +we---- Are you ready----" + +He waved his hand towards the canal. + +Mr. Tomes drew his loose limbs together, and bowed formally to Clodagh. + +"Certainly, if you wish it, Mr. Milbanke!" he said stiffly; and walked +off along the terrace. + +Milbanke did not follow him at once. He stood looking at his wife in +pained uncertainty. + +"Clodagh, my dear," he began at last, "if there is anything I can +do----" + +But Clodagh turned away. + +"No," she said almost inaudibly; "no, there is nothing. I'd like to be +alone. I want to be alone." + +And Milbanke--perplexed, embarrassed, vaguely unhappy--turned slowly, +and walked across the terrace after his scientific friend. + +Clodagh waited until the last sound of Mr. Tomes's loud, rolling voice +had melted into the distance with the departure of his gondola; then +with a stiff, tired movement she rose, walked in her own turn across +the terrace, and, leaning upon the stone parapet, gazed out into the +purple twilight, as she had gazed on the evening of her first arrival. + +How long ago--how infinitely far away--that first arrival seemed to +her! With the capacity for the assimilation of new emotions that +belongs to all her race, she had lived more keenly during the last +three days, than during the preceding four years. To one of her +temperament, life is not a matter of time, but of experience. At +eighteen she had been a child; on her twenty-second birthday she had +been a girl; and now, when that birthday was past by but a few months, +she was conscious of the stirring of her womanhood--roused into swift +activity by the first approach of the world with its men and women, its +laxities and prejudices, its infinite potentialities for good or evil. + +Some vague foreshadowing of this idea was casting itself across her +mind, when the thread of her musings was suddenly broken by a quick +step sounding across the deserted terrace, and with a slight, +involuntary movement, she straightened herself, and brought her hands +together upon the cold surface of the parapet. + +Sir Walter Gore had parted with Barnard in the hall of the hotel; and +now he crossed the terrace quickly, conscious of the fast falling +twilight. He was close to the flight of stone steps that led to the +water, before the flutter of Clodagh's light dress caught his +preoccupied attention. + +Seeing her, he paused and raised his hat. + +"You look very mysterious, Mrs. Milbanke," he said. "Has your husband +gone indoors?" + +Clodagh felt herself colour. Unreasonably, and seemingly inexplicably, +the mention of Milbanke's name jarred upon her. + +"My husband has gone to see an archway in one of the churches," she +said with a tinge of sharpness. + +Caught by the inflexion of her voice, Gore looked at her more closely +through the gathering dusk. + +"And you do not share his taste for the antique?" + +She turned towards him, her eyes alight with a sharp, cold brightness. + +"I hate the antique!" she said with sudden vehemence. + +Almost against his will, Gore looked at her again. + +"And yet you come from Ireland? Isn't everything there very old?" + +For an instant she looked away across the darkening waters; then her +glance flashed back to his. + +"Yes, old," she said passionately; "but so naturally old, that its age +is not thrust upon you. Where I come from, there is a ruined chapel on +the edge of a cliff that dates from the fourth century. And at the +present day the peasants pray there, just as their ancestors prayed +centuries and centuries ago. They don't stare at it, and read about it, +and write about it, like the antiquarians do. They pray there. The +chapel isn't a curiosity to them; it's a part of their lives." + +Gore was silent. An unconquerable surprise--a reluctant +fascination--held him chained, forgetful of the gathering darkness and +of the gondola that awaited him at the foot of the steps. + +As he stood hesitating, Clodagh spoke again. + +"Don't you believe that things should be lived--not merely looked at?" +she asked, her voice low and tense. Almost unconsciously the desire to +interest this man, to win his attention, to compel him to share her +opinions, had sprung into her mind. + +Gore answered her with directness. + +"No," he said. "All things cannot be lived." + +His voice was quiet and controlled; the pose of his body, the look in +his eyes, all suggested a tempered strength--a curbed vitality. The +desire to dominate him rose higher, overshadowing every other sensation +in Clodagh's brain. + +She stepped nearer to him, her hand resting on the stone balustrade, +her body bending forward. + +"Don't you think that when life is so very short, we are justified in +taking all we can--when we can?" + +Her warm lips were parted, her eyes shone with an added light. She was +walking on the edge of an abyss with the ardour of one whose gaze is +fixed upon the sun. But Gore--seeing only the abyss--girded on his +armour. + +"No," he said slowly and deliberately. "No; that has never been my +standpoint." + +"Then you refuse the good things of life when they come your way?" + +"Good is a very elastic word." + +He was fencing, and she realised it. With a subtle change of tone, she +made a fresh essay. + +"Isn't the meaning of every word merely a matter of inflexion?" + +He hesitated. + +"I--I suppose so," he admitted guardedly. + +She smiled suddenly, looking up into his face. + +"Then to me, the word 'good' means all that is warm and light and +happy. And to you, it means something cold--or unattainable?" + +"Indeed no! You have made a wrong deduction." + +"Well, what does it mean to you?" + +"Mean? I--I am not sure that I can tell you." + +"Perhaps you have not found the meaning?" + +"Perhaps not." + +"But you are seeking for it?" + +He laughed a little constrainedly. + +"I may be--unconsciously." + +Again she averted her eyes, and turned towards the mysterious canal. + +"Now I understand one thing!" she said in a soft, slow voice. + +"What is that?" Gore was curious, despite himself. + +"Why they call you 'Sir Galahad'?" + +There was a moment of silence. His face flushed, then turned cold. + +"Indeed!" he said stiffly. "And, if it is not indiscreet, may I ask who +calls me 'Sir Galahad'?" + +At the tone of his voice, Clodagh wheeled round. + +"Didn't you know?" she asked. "I thought--oh, I was sure you knew----" + +He laughed. + +"No!" he said with elaborate indifference--"no! To whom am I indebted +for the name?" + +But his companion was silent. Acutely conscious of having struck a +wrong note, she felt angry with herself--angry with him. + +"Who gave me the name?" he asked again. + +"I had better not say. I thought you knew of it." + +"Then I am at liberty to guess. It was Lord Deerehurst?" + +His tone was curt--even contemptuous. + +Clodagh flushed. It seemed as if, by a subtle insinuation, he had +scorned her. + +"And if it was Lord Deerehurst?" she asked sharply. + +Gore made an exclamation of contempt. + +"You dislike Lord Deerehurst?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"You dislike Lord Deerehurst?" She was persistent, remembering keenly +and uncomfortably the favour she had shown the old peer in his presence +the night before. + +Gore gave a short, indifferent laugh, and the sound galled her. + +"Lord Deerehurst is a friend of mine," she said unwisely. + +He bent his head with a stiff movement. + +"If I have transgressed," he said, "please forgive me! I have already +trespassed on your time. Good-bye! Perhaps we shall meet later at the +Palazzo Ugochini." + +His voice was cold and very reserved. + +The blood beat hotly and uncomfortably in Clodagh's veins, but she +raised her head and answered in a voice as indifferent as his own. + +"Good-bye! It's quite possible that you may _see_ me at the Palazzo +Ugochini; but I can't promise more." + +Gathering up her light skirt, she turned and walked across the terrace +to the door of the hotel. + +Gore stood and watched her until the last gleam of her dress was lost +in the lighted hall; then slowly--thoughtfully, almost reluctantly--he +began his descent of the steps. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Clodagh's mood was inexplicable even to herself as she entered the +hotel, ran upstairs to her own room, and began to dress for dinner. + +She changed her dress with an almost feverish haste, giving herself no +time for thought; and then, scarcely waiting to take a final look into +the mirror, left the room and hurried down into the hall. There she +encountered Barnard. + +"I have just been speaking to your husband," he said, greeting her with +a smile. "He has been lured into attending some secret conclave of +Italian scientists. He asked me to make his excuses to you." + +Clodagh's glance fell. + +"Oh!" she said with a curious little inflection of the voice. + +"Of course he knew that you were going out to-night?" + +"Oh yes! Of course!" She still kept her lashes lowered. + +Barnard smiled. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he exclaimed in a cheerful voice, "suppose we have a +gay evening! Lord Deerehurst has asked me to dine with him and +Serracauld at the 'Abbati.' Let's form an even party! The old man will +be absolutely charmed; and you have never dined at a restaurant. Say I +may arrange it!" + +For a moment longer Clodagh studied the ground; then very quickly she +raised her eyes, and in their depths Barnard read a new expression. + +"After all," she said tentatively, "why shouldn't we take what comes +our way?" + +He extended his hands. + +"Why, indeed? Let me spread the good news?" + +Again she let her lashes droop. + +"Very well!" she said--"very well! Say that I want to enjoy myself." + + +The dignified and placid serenity of Venice had been intruded upon that +season by the establishment of a fashionable dining-place, which, under +the name of the Abbati Restaurant, had taken up its position in a +beautiful old house on one of the narrower waterways. + +Its distance from Clodagh's hotel was short; and the journey +thither--taken in Lord Deerehurst's gondola, in company with the old +peer, Serracauld, and Barnard--occupied but a few minutes. Clodagh's +first impression, on gliding up the still, dark waterway and stepping +out upon the time-worn garden steps, was one of delight. And as she +stood for a moment in the shadow of the ancient wall, above which the +tree-tops rose, casting black reflections into the water that ran +beneath them, she was conscious of the subtle touch of the warm night +wind upon her face; of the subtle poetry in the scent of unseen +flowers; of the subtle invitation conveyed by the long row of lighted +windows, seen through a screen of magnolias. + +She had momentarily forgotten her companions, when Deerehurst--the last +to leave the gondola--stepped softly to her side. + +"This appeals to you?" he said. + +She started slightly at his unexpected nearness; then, with a quick +impetuosity, she responded to his question. + +"I think it is exquisite," she said. "The light through the trees +suggests such wonderful, mysterious things." + +He smiled under cover of the darkness. + +"It suggests an enchanted banquet. Let us find the presiding genius!" + +He laid his fingers lightly on her arm and guided her up the long, dim +garden. + +Followed by Serracauld and Barnard, they traversed the shadowy pathways +and emerged upon an open space of lawn that fronted the house. + +Three or four of the private rooms were already occupied; and with the +faint streams of light that poured from their open windows, came the +pleasant murmuring of talk and laughter. + +As the little party stepped into the radius of this light, a stately +personage came forward deferentially; and, recognising Deerehurst, made +a profound bow. + +The old nobleman nodded amiably, as to an acquaintance of long +standing, and, drawing the man aside, addressed him in French. + +The explanation was brief, and almost at once Deerehurst turned back to +his companions. + +"Come, Mrs. Milbanke!" he said. "Our friend Abbati proves amenable to +persuasion. He will give us his prettiest room--though we are +unexpected guests." + +Clodagh stepped forward with eager curiosity. + +"I never thought a restaurant could be like this," she said. + +"Very few of them are, Mrs. Milbanke," murmured Barnard, close behind +her. "The usual restaurant is an ostentatious place of white enamel, +palms, and lights, where a hundred tongues are vainly endeavouring to +drown a band. This little corner will scarcely outlive another season. +It's too perfect--too quiet to find favour with the crowd. It was +opened under the patronage--rather, at the suggestion--of Prince Menof, +a sybarite millionaire temporarily out of sorts with Paris. But now +Paris smiles once more; Menof has wearied of Venice; and poor Abbati +begins to tremble." + +Clodagh looked round. + +"But could anything so exquisite be a failure?" + +"Easily, my dear lady! People like to eat their expensive dinners where +others can comment on their extravagance! It's a very vulgar world!" + +The three men laughed; and Clodagh, slightly distressed, slightly +puzzled, stepped through the wide hall to the room that Deerehurst +indicated. + +It was a small chamber, long and narrow in shape. The walls were +panelled in faded brocade, and the lights were shrouded in silk of some +soft hue; the floor was covered with a carpet in which wreathed roses +formed the chief design; and the furniture consisted of one oval table, +four beautiful old chairs, and a couple of ancient French mirrors. As +Deerehurst stepped forward to relieve Clodagh of her cloak, four +waiters entered noiselessly; and almost immediately dinner was served. + +It was a dinner such as Prince Menof would have delighted in. There was +nothing tedious, nothing monotonous in the six or seven courses that +comprised its menu; each stimulated and gratified the appetite, without +a hint of satiety. It was an Epicurean feast. And it was interesting to +study the varying ways in which the guests responded to its appeal. + +Barnard--placid man-of-the-world, indulgent connoisseur of all the +luxuries--openly lingered over the delights of the meal; Serracauld ate +quickly and almost greedily, as many men of slight build, and thin, +sensual faces do eat; Deerehurst alone toyed with his food, giving +serious attention to nothing beyond the dry toast with which he was +kept supplied; while Clodagh--young enough and healthy enough to have +an appetite that needed no tempting--frankly enjoyed her dinner, +without at all comprehending its excellence. + +During the first portion of the meal, conversation was fitful and +impersonal; but as the waiters left the table to carry in one of the +last dishes, the tone of the intercourse underwent a change. Deerehurst +turned to Clodagh with a sudden gesture of concern and intimacy. + +"I see you do not endorse my choice of wine!" he said in a gently +solicitous voice. + +She looked up with slight confusion; then looked down at her untouched +glass, in which the champagne bubbles were rapidly subsiding. + +"I--I never drink champagne," she said a little diffidently. + +"Oh, Mrs. Milbanke! And my poor uncle has been sacking the Abbati +cellars for this particular vintage!" Serracauld glanced up quickly and +almost reproachfully. + +Barnard laughed, as he blissfully drained his own glass. + +"You are really very unkind, Mrs. Milbanke," he murmured. "You make one +feel such a deplorable worldling." + +But Deerehurst looked round towards a waiter who was re-entering the +room. + +"Bring this lady another glass and some more champagne!" he said. + +Clodagh turned to him sharply and apprehensively. But he touched her +wrist with his finger-tips. + +"Please!" he said in his thin, high-bred voice--"please! I want you to +taste this wine. I generally have some difficulty in getting it outside +my own house." + +His pale, far-seeing eyes rested on her face; and it seemed to her +excited fancy that their glance supplemented his words. That, as +plainly as eyes could speak, they added the suggestion that some day +she might honour that house with her presence. The idea confused her. +She turned away from him in slight uneasiness; and at the same moment +one of the waiters filled her long Venetian glass with the light golden +wine. + +"To please me!" Deerehurst murmured again--"to please me!" + +She looked round, confused and still embarrassed; gave one unsteady, +yielding laugh; then lifted the glass. + +"If--if I must----" she said deprecatingly. + +Barnard and Serracauld smiled, and Deerehurst raised his own glass. + +"To the next occasion upon which you consent to be my guest!" he said +with a profound and impressive bow. + + +On the surface, this incident seems scarcely worth recording; yet for +Clodagh it marked an epoch--an epoch not evolved through yielding to +her host's persuasions, not evolved through drinking a single glass of +unfamiliar wine; but evolved through the fact that one item in the sum +of her prejudices had gone down before that potent fetish, the dread of +appearing conspicuous. + +With her action, a fleeting shadow of self-distrust fell across her +mind; but she swept it aside, as she had previously swept the memory of +her interview with Gore. Deep within her lay the specious knowledge +that, for her, this bright existence was only transitory--that +somewhere behind the lights and music and laughter lay her own +individual groove, to which she must return like a modern Cinderella, +when the enchanted interlude of brilliant days was ended. And in this +knowledge lay the secret of her greed for joy. Certain of the monotony +to come, she caught passionately at every proffered pleasure. + +Ten o'clock had struck before the little party left the restaurant; and +although she had drunk no more champagne, and had refused the liqueurs +that had been served with coffee, her eyes were excitedly bright, as +she stepped from the gondola at the steps of the Palazzo Ugochini. + +Mounting the marble stairs with Deerehurst close behind her, she was +filled with an exhilarating sense of confidence in herself--of defiance +towards the world at large. The memory of the afternoon, when she had +stood on the dark terrace and listened to Gore's contemptuous voice, +had left her--or remained only as a spur to her enthusiasm. + +The animation--the zest for pleasure--was plainly visible in her eyes, +as she entered the salon, and went forward towards her hostess. And +Lady Frances Hope, looking round at sound of her guest's names, saw +this peculiar expression with a stirring of curiosity. + +"Where have you all been?" she asked, as she took Clodagh's hand. + +Barnard laughed. + +"We are shocking truants!" he said gaily. "We have been dining at the +'Abbati.'" + +She looked at him quickly. + +"All four of you?" she asked shrewdly. + +He smiled. + +"You have a suspicious mind, Frances! Yes; all four of us." + +Lady Frances laughed. + +"No," she said. "I never harbour suspicions. It is Mrs. Milbanke's air +of having just discovered some delicious secret that is always +prompting me to curiosity." + +"How do you manage to look so triumphant?" She turned again to Clodagh +with a long, puzzled glance. "I wish you would impart the secret." + +Clodagh's bright eyes met hers. + +"My father used to say that the secret of happiness is never to look +beyond the present hour." + +"A philosopher!" murmured Deerehurst. + +"I should say a bold man." Barnard looked from the old nobleman to his +hostess. + +But almost as he spoke, the name of Sir Walter Gore was announced, and +Lady Frances looked sharply towards the door. + +With a quiet, unembarrassed bearing, Gore crossed the salon. + +As he approached the little group, Lady Frances stepped towards him +with outstretched hands. + +"How nice of you!" she said softly. "I began to fear you had forgotten +about to-night." + +He took her hand calmly. + +"But I had promised to come," he said simply. + +And at the words, his eyes turned involuntarily towards Clodagh. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Milbanke!" he added in the same level voice. + +At his glance and his words, Clodagh's expression changed. The vague +excitement of the past hours seemed suddenly to focus itself. She +realised abruptly that she had not yet vindicated her right to the joy +of life. With exaggerated difference she bent her head in +acknowledgment of his greeting; and almost immediately turned to +Deerehurst. + +"Lord Deerehurst!" she said, very softly and distinctly, "I want you to +do me a favour to-night! I want you to teach me to play roulette!" + +It was her declaration of war--the moment towards which she had +unconsciously been tending ever since the interview of the afternoon. +She knew it instantly the words had left her lips--knew it by the quick +surprise in Barnard's eyes, the sharp curiosity in Lady Frances Hope's, +the veiled triumph in Deerehurst's, and the cold disapprobation in Sir +Walter Gore's. Without another glance she turned away and walked slowly +forward across the salon, to where a couple of dozen people were +grouped about the roulette-table. + +As she moved deliberately forward, many heads were turned in her +direction, but she was heedless and almost unobservant of the interest +she evoked. Her heart was beating fast, she was rejoicing recklessly in +her vindicated independence. + +Deerehurst overtook her, as she halted by the roulette-table. And she +was conscious of his presence without looking round. + +"Will you stake for me?" she said in a quick undertone. "You were lucky +the other night." + +He stepped forward, smiling with a cold touch of wisdom, and took the +coin she handed to him. + +"What! A convert!" cried Luard, who was again officiating at the game. +"Luck to you, Mrs. Milbanke!" + +He gave a pleasant laugh, as her coin touched the table, and a moment +later set the ball spinning. + +Clodagh waited, holding her breath. The ball slackened speed--hesitated +over the gaily painted board--and finally dropped into its place. There +was a general laugh of excitement; the little crowd pressed closer to +the table, and she saw her coin swept into Luard's hands. + +The incident was eventful. Quite suddenly the colour leaped into her +face and her eyes blazed. In total unconsciousness of self, she stepped +forward to the table. + +Deerehurst, closely watchful of her, moved to her side. + +"Shall I stake again?" he asked in a whisper. + +But she did not turn her head. + +"No!--no!" she cried. "I'll stake for myself." + +Her voice sounded distant and absorbed. It seemed in that brief moment +that she had forgotten her companion and herself. + +Thrice she staked, and thrice lost; but the losses whetted her desires. +She played boldly, with a certain reckless grace born of complete +unconsciousness. At last fortune favoured her, and she won. Deerehurst, +still standing close beside her, saw the expression of her face, saw +the careless--the almost inconsequent--air with which she accepted her +spoils; and, noting both, he touched her arm. + +"You are a true gambler!" he said very softly. "You care nothing for +gain or loss. You play for the play's sake!" + +And Clodagh, with her mind absorbed and her eyes on the roulette-board, +gave a quick, high-pitched, unthinking laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +At nine o'clock on the night following her first venture in the world +of gambling, Clodagh was again standing by the roulette-table in Lady +Frances Hope's salon. She had been playing for two hours, with luck +persistently against her; but no one who had chanced to glance at her +eager, excited face would have imagined even for a moment that the +collection of coins in her gold purse was dwindling and not increasing. + +Deerehurst had been correct in his deductions. She played for the +play's sake. The losing game--the hazardous game was the one which +appealed to, and absorbed, her; the savour of risk stimulated her; the +faint sense of danger lifted her to an enchanted realm. And on this +night she made an unconsciously picturesque figure as she stood +fascinated by the chances of the play--her face flushed, her eyes +intensely bright, her fingers restlessly eager to make their stakes. +Round about her was gathered a little group of interested and admiring +men--Deerehurst, Luard, Serracauld, and a couple of young Americans who +had come to Venice with introductions to Lady Frances Hope; but on none +of them did she bestow more than a pre-occupied attention. She +permitted them to stand beside her; she laughed softly at their +compliments and their jests; but her eyes and her thoughts were +unmistakably for the painted board over which Barnard was presiding. +Another half-dozen rounds of the game were played; then suddenly she +turned away from the table with a quick laugh. + +"The end!" she said to Serracauld, who was standing nearest to her; and +with a quick gesture, she held up the gold netted purse, now limp and +empty. + +With an eager movement, he stepped forward. + +"Let me be useful!" he whispered quickly. + +"Or me! I represent your husband, you know!" Barnard leant across the +roulette-table. + +"Oh, come, Barny! I spoke first----" + +But Clodagh looked smilingly from one to the other, and shook her head. + +"No!--no!" she said hastily. "I--I never borrow money." + +Serracauld looked obviously disappointed. + +"Nonsense, Mrs. Milbanke----" he began. + +But Deerehurst intervened. + +"If Mrs. Milbanke does not wish it, Valentine----" he murmured +soothingly. "Mrs. Milbanke, let me take you out of temptation!" + +He bowed to Clodagh, and courteously made a passage for her through the +crowd that surrounded them. If any cynical remembrance of her first +vehement repudiation of the suggestion that she should gamble, rose now +to confute her newer denial, no shadow of it was visible in his face. + +As they freed themselves from the group of players, they paused +simultaneously, and looked for a moment round the large, cool salon, +about which the elder or more serious of the assembly were scattered +for conversation or cards. Neither spoke; but after a moment's wait, +Deerehurst turned his pale eyes in the direction of the open windows, +and by the faintest lifting of his eyebrows conveyed a question. + +Clodagh laughed; then silently bent her head, and a moment later they +moved forward together across the polished floor. + +As they passed one of the many groups of statuary that brightened the +more shadowed portion of the room, she caught a glimpse of her hostess, +once again in conversation with Sir Walter Gore, and she was conscious +in that fleeting moment of Gore's clear, reflective eyes resting on her +in a quick regard. + +With a swift, almost defiant movement she lifted her head, and turned +ostentatiously to Deerehurst. + +"Is it to be philosophy to-night?" she asked in a low, soft voice. + +He paused and looked at her, his cold, pale eyes slow and searching in +their regard. + +"Not to-night--Circe," he said almost below his breath. + +Clodagh coloured, gave another quick, excited laugh, and, moving past +him, stepped through one of the open windows. + +Gaining the balcony, she did not, as usual, drop into one of the deep +lounge chairs; but, moving forward, stood by the iron railing and +looked down upon the quiet canal. + +The night was exceptionally clear, even for Italy. Every star was +reflected in the smooth dark waters; while over the opposite palaces a +crescent moon hung like a slender reaping-hook, extended from heaven to +garner some mystic harvest. + +For a moment Deerehurst hesitated to disturb her; but at last, waiving +his scruples, he went softly forward, and stood beside her. + +"Are you offended?" he asked in a very low voice. + +"No!" + +Her answer came almost absently; her eyes were fixed upon the moon. + +"Then sad?" + +"I don't know! Perhaps!" + +He drew a little nearer. + +"And why sad?" + +She gave a quick sigh, and turned from the glories of the night. + +"I have only two days more in Venice. Isn't that reason for being sad?" + +"But why leave Venice?" + +"My husband is leaving." + +He smiled faintly. + +"And is he such a tyrant that you must go where he goes?" + +She laughed involuntarily. + +"A tyrant!" she said. "Oh no! I can scarcely say he is a tyrant." + +"Then why do you go with him?" + +She looked round for a moment, then her eyes returned to the pageant of +the sky. + +"Why does one do anything?" she said suddenly in a changed voice. + +With a quiet movement Deerehurst leant forward over the railing, and +looked into her face. + +"Usually we do things because we must," he said softly. "But compulsion +is not always disagreeable. Sometimes we are compelled to action by our +own desires----" + +Clodagh, conscious of his close regard, felt her breath come a little +quicker. But she did not change her position; she did not cease to +study the sky. She knew that his arm was all but touching hers; she was +sensitive to the faint and costly perfume that emanated from his +clothes. But she felt these things vaguely, impersonally, as items in a +drama unconnected with herself. When his next words came, it was +curiosity rather than dread that stirred in her mind. + +"It is my desires that are forcing me to speak now. The desire to see +you again after you leave Venice--the desire to see more of you than a +mere acquaintance sees--to be something more than a mere friend----" + +Clodagh still looked intently at the stars, but unconsciously her lips +parted. + +"Why?" she asked below her breath. And it seemed to her that the word +was not spoken by her, but by some one else. + +With an eager gesture, Deerehurst extended his hand, and his long, pale +fingers closed over her own. + +Then out across the darkness and the silence of the balcony floated the +strong, decisive voice of Lady Frances Hope. + +"Lord Deerehurst!" it called. "Lord Deerehurst! So sorry, but Rose +wants you to give an expert opinion upon one point in a game of bridge. +It won't take two minutes." + +The voice faded away again as its owner moved back into the room. + +At the sound of his name, Deerehurst had drawn himself erect. Now, +bending forward silently and swiftly, he lifted the hand he was still +holding and kissed it vehemently. The next moment he had crossed the +balcony and entered the salon. + +Left alone, Clodagh stood motionless. With a vivid physical +consciousness, she could still feel the pressure of his cold lips upon +her hand; but her mental sensations were benumbed. That something had +occurred she dimly realised; that some point--some climax--had been +reached she was vaguely aware. But what its personal bearing upon her +own life might be, she made no attempt to guess. With a dazed mind she +gazed out across the quiet canal, striving to marshal her ideas. + +For several seconds she stood in this state of mental confusion; then, +with disconcerting suddenness, a new incident obtruded itself upon her +mind. With a violent start, she became conscious that some one had +passed through the open window, and was coming towards her, across the +balcony. + +She turned sharply. But as she did so, her fingers slipped from the +railing, and all thought of Deerehurst's kiss was banished from her +mind. With a sense of acute surprise, she recognised the figure of Sir +Walter Gore. + +Taking no notice of her dismayed silence, he came quietly forward. + +"Good-evening, Mrs. Milbanke," he said. "Have you been enjoying +yourself?" + +With a certain vague confusion, she met his gaze. + +"Yes," she answered. "I--I suppose so." + +There was a short silence; and Gore, moving to the balcony railing, +rested his arm upon it. + +"It is getting late," he said. "Time for us all to be thinking of our +hotels." + +Again she looked at him in faint bewilderment. + +"Yes. I--I suppose so," she said once more. + +Another pause succeeded her halting words; then, with a gesture of +decision, Gore stood upright, bringing his glance back to her face. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said suddenly, "let me take you home! I have a +gondola waiting at the steps." + +The words were so totally unexpected that Clodagh remained mute, and, +leaning forward, looked down into the heavy shadows cast by the ancient +palace. There was a strange sensation of triumph in this unlooked-for +moment--in this sudden capitulation of a man who had previously ignored +her: a sensation before which all lesser things--Deerehurst's passion, +Serracauld's ardour, Barnard's friendship--became meaningless and +vague. + +But Gore, guessing nothing from her bent head, glanced behind him +towards the salon. + +"Well?" he said. "May I be your escort?" + +Under cover of the dusk, Clodagh smiled. + +"Mr. Barnard generally takes me home----" + +Involuntarily Gore's figure stiffened. + +"--But," she added in a low, quick whisper, "I--I would very much +rather go back with you!" + +Under many conditions, the words would have seemed bold. But the manner +in which she uttered them disarmed criticism. Gore's face relaxed. + +"Then let us make our escape!" he said. "Lady Frances is settling a +bridge dispute; and quite a dozen people have slipped away in the last +ten minutes. No one will question which of them has taken you home." + +And Clodagh gave a short, light laugh of sudden pleasure. The small +conspiracy made Gore so much more human--drew them so much closer +together than they had been before. + +"Yes!--yes!" she said eagerly. "And I am lunching with Lady Frances +to-morrow. I can explain then." + +"Yes! Quite so! Now, if you are ready!" + +He moved to the window. + +Very quietly they re-entered the salon; and a flush crossed Clodagh's +face as she saw Deerehurst bending over a card-table with the nearest +approach to boredom and impatience she had ever known him to evince. +Her heart, already beating to the thought of her new conquest, gave an +added leap at this silent evidence of her power. + +In the corridor outside the salon Gore took her cloak from the servant, +and himself wrapped it about her as they descended the stairs; then, +passing to the flight of worn steps that led to the water, he signalled +to a waiting gondolier. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said, as he offered her his hand, "I am going to +make a strange request. I want to talk to you for half an hour before +taking you home. Will you give me leave to make a tour of the canals?" +He spoke very quietly and in a tone difficult to construe. + +At his curious appeal, her heart gave another quick, excited throb, +though instinctively she realised that neither Deerehurst, Serracauld, +nor Barnard would have proposed a midnight excursion in quite his voice +or manner. But the very mode of the request enhanced its charm. She +looked up into his face as she laid her hand in his. + +"I give you leave!" she said gently. + +He met her glance, but almost immediately averted his eyes. And as he +handed her to the seat, he turned swiftly to the gondolier, addressing +him in Italian. + +The colloquy lasted but a few seconds, and at its conclusion the boat +shot silently out into the canal. + +"This man does not understand a word of English," he said, as he +dropped into his place by Clodagh's side. + +Again his words were peculiarly suggestive, and again his tone was +curiously frank. Why should he suggest that their conversation was +unintelligible? And suggest it in so impersonal a tone? She leant back +in her cushioned seat and let her eyelids droop. Her mind was full of +puzzling and delightful thoughts. Never had she tasted the mystery of +Venice as she tasted it to-night. Every passing breath of wind, every +scent blown from the dark and silent gardens, every distant laugh or +broken word, was alive with unguessed meanings. The feverish excitement +of the past week seemed to fall away. This was romance! This drifting +with an inscrutable companion through an unfathomable night! + +Her eyes closed; she lay almost motionless, filled with an aimless, +vague delight. All creation--with all creation's limitless +possibilities--lay in the warm darkness that enveloped her. Then, with +the instinct of senses newly and sharply astir, she became conscious +that Gore was watching her. With a thrill of expectancy and +anticipation, she opened her eyes. + +There is something very curious--something subtle and almost +intimate--in the opening of one's eyes upon the steady scrutiny of +another. As Clodagh raised her lids, her glance encountered Gore's; but +on the instant that their eyes met, her joy in the moment--her exultant +triumph--was suddenly killed. For the look that she surprised was not +the look she had anticipated. It was interested, it was attentive, it +was grave, but it held neither subjugation nor passion. As her brain +woke to this realisation, she involuntarily raised herself in the +cushioned seat. + +At the same moment, her companion leant slightly forward. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said quickly, "I have been watching you and +thinking about you ever since I came to Venice. And at last I have +decided, that I must tell you what my thoughts have been. + +"I am not very old--perhaps I have no right to speak. But a man sees a +good deal of life, even if he wants to keep his eyes shut; and I have +seen a great many people throw away their chances--take the false and +refuse the true. I have seen some men do it, and I have seen many +women--many, many women." He paused, but did not look at her. "It is a +common, everyday occurrence; so common that one generally looks on at +it with indifference. But sometimes--just sometimes--one stops to +think. One feels the great, great pity of it!" + +He paused again, looking fixedly down at the strip of carpet beneath +their feet. + +Clodagh glanced at him--a swift, searching, almost surreptitious look. + +"There are times when one stops to think." He raised his head and +looked at Clodagh, sitting erect and pale, her large eyes wide open, +her hands clasped in her lap. "There are times when it seems +cruel--when it seems a sacrilege to see a girl going down the easy road +of lost illusions and callous sentiments. I know this sounds +incomprehensible--sounds impertinent. But I cannot help myself. I must +tell you what no one else will tell you. I must put out my hand." + +He paused, but Clodagh did not speak. + +"You are very young, you are very high-spirited, you--you are very +attractive. And the world is full of people ready--waiting--to take +advantage of your youth, your high spirits, your attractiveness. You +are not fit for this society--for this set that you have drifted +into----" + +"This set? Isn't it your own set?" At last Clodagh's lips parted. + +He made an impatient gesture. + +"A man has many sets." + +Her pale face flushed suddenly. + +"I don't think I understand," she said. + +"No. But I am trying to make you understand. I am not disparaging Lady +Frances Hope--or her social standing. She is a charming woman--a clever +woman, but she is a woman of to-day. Her pleasures, her ambitions, her +friends----" + +Clodagh lifted her head. + +"--Her friends?" she said faintly. + +"--Are not the friends for you--for any inexperienced girl. Take them +one by one. There is Serracauld--indolent, worthless, vicious; +Barnard--decent enough as a man's friend, and as honest as his clients +permit him to be, but no proper guide for a girl like you; +Deerehurst----" + +But Clodagh checked him. + +"Lord Deerehurst? What about Lord Deerehurst?" Her voice was high and +strained. + +Gore made a gesture of contempt. + +"Deerehurst----" he began hotly; then suddenly his tone changed. + +"Mrs. Milbanke," he said earnestly, "whatever you may say, whatever you +may do, I cannot believe that in your heart you are in sympathy with +these people, whose one object in life is to gamble--to gamble with +honour, money, emotion--anything, everything that has the savour of +risk and the possibility of gain. + +"You have no justification for belonging to these people. You have the +good things of life, the things many women are forced to +steal--position, a home, a good husband----" + +At the last word Clodagh started violently. And with a quick impulsive +movement, Gore turned to her afresh. + +"You are intoxicated with life--or what seems to you to be life! You +are forgetting realities. I have seen your husband. He is an honest, +simple, trustworthy man--who loves you." + +The tone of his voice came to Clodagh with great distinctness. It +seemed the only living thing in a world that had suddenly become dead. +While she had been sitting rigid and erect in the stern of the gondola, +everything had altered to her mental vision--everything had undergone a +fundamental change. The purple twilight; the mysterious night scents; +the breezes blown in from the lagoon had become intangible, meaningless +things. She was conscious of nothing but Gore's clear words, of her own +soul, stripped of its self-deception. At last, with a faint movement, +she turned towards him. + +"Take me home," she said in a numbed voice. "I wish to go home." + +At the words, he wheeled round in sudden protest. But as his eyes +rested on her cold face, a tinge of self-consciousness chilled his +zeal--self-consciousness, and the suddenly remembered fact that his own +action was, after all, unjustifiable. His own figure suddenly +stiffened. + +"As you wish, of course!" he said quietly. "I suppose my conduct seems +quite unpardonable." + +For one fleeting second an impulse--a desire--crossed Clodagh's face; +but as it trembled on the brink of utterance, Gore leant forward in his +seat and gave a quick, imperative order to the gondolier. A moment +later they had glided up a narrow waterway and emerged again upon the +Grand Canal. + +From the door and windows of Clodagh's hotel, a stream of light was +still pouring out upon the water. As they drew level with the terrace, +she turned her face away from this searching radiance, and rose quickly +to her feet. + +"Good-night," she said in an almost inarticulate voice--"good-night! +Don't stir! Don't help me!" + +But Gore had risen also. And in a sudden return of his earlier, more +impulsive manner, he forgot the self-consciousness that had chilled +him. + +"Mrs. Milbanke----" he said quickly. + +But Clodagh evaded his eyes; and with a sharp nervous movement, shook +her head. + +"No!" she said--"no! Don't help me! I don't want help!" + +Stepping past him with an agile movement, she ran up the steps, and +across the terrace to the door of the hotel. + +Obeying a dominant impulse, Gore turned to follow her. But as his foot +touched the side of the boat, he paused, drew slowly back, and dropped +into his former seat. + + +With almost breathless haste, Clodagh ran up the silent staircase of +the hotel, and entering her own room, turned on the light; then, +walking straight to the dressing-table, she paused and stared into the +mirror at her own reflection. + +The sight of that reflection was not reassuring. Her face looked +colourless, as only olive-tinted skin can look; her wide eyes with +their narrowed pupils seemed almost yellow in their intense clearness; +while her whole air, her whole appearance, was frightened, tired, +pained. As she looked, a nervous panic seized her, and she turned her +gaze away. + +With freedom to look elsewhere, her eyes roved over the dressing-table, +and suddenly fixed themselves upon a large, square envelope bearing her +name, which stood propped against a scent bottle. + +In nervous haste she picked it up, and looked at it uncomprehendingly. +It was unusually large and thick and addressed in an unfamiliar hand. +With the same unstrung haste she turned it about between her fingers, +halting with new apprehension, as she saw that its flap bore an +elaborate black coronet and monogram. + +At last, with a strange sense of apprehension, she tore the envelope +open. + + "CIRCE," the letter began. + + "I will not reproach you for deserting me. Life is too brief for + reproaches--when one longs to fill it with pleasanter things. But + be kind to me! Give me the opportunity of finishing that broken + sentence. I shall smoke a cigar on the terrace at eleven to-night. + If you are generous, wrap yourself up, and keep me company for ten + minutes. I shall wait--and hope. + + "DEEREHURST." + +She read to the end, and stood for a space staring at the large, +straggling writing; at last, as if suddenly imbued with the power of +action, she tore the letter across--tearing and retearing it into +little strips; then, throwing the fragments on the ground, she turned +and fled out of the room. + +Milbanke's bedroom was on the same floor as her own, though separated +from it by half the length of the corridor. Leaving her own apartment, +she hurried towards it; and pausing outside the door, knocked softly +and insistently. A delay followed her imperative summons; then +Milbanke's voice came faint and nervous, demanding the intruder's name. + +She answered; and a moment later the door was opened with a confused +sound of shooting bolts. + +Milbanke's appearance was slightly grotesque, as the opened door +disclosed him, silhouetted against the lighted room. He was garbed in a +loose dressing-gown; his scanty hair was disarranged; and there was an +expression of alarm on his puckered face. But for once Clodagh was +blind to these things. With a swift movement she entered the room, and +closing the door, stood leaning against it. + +"James," she said breathlessly, "you finished your business with Mr. +Barnard to-day, didn't you?" + +Milbanke, suddenly conscious of her white face, began to stammer. + +"Clodagh! my dear--my dear----" + +But Clodagh waved his anxiety aside. + +"Tell me!" she said. "It's finished, isn't it?" + +"Yes!--yes! But, my dear----" + +She threw out her hands in a sudden, vehement gesture. + +"Then take me away!" she cried--"take me away! Let us go in the +morning, by the very first train--before any one is up." + +Milbanke paled. + +"But, my dear," he said helplessly, "I thought--I believed----" + +Clodagh turned to him again. + +"So did I!" she cried--"so did I! I thought I loved it. I thought I +loved it all--the music and the gaiety and--and the people. But I +don't. I hate it!--I hate it!--I hate it!" + +In a strangled sob, her voice gave way; and, with it, her strength and +her self-control. She took a few steps forward; then, like a mechanical +figure in which the mechanism has suddenly been suspended, she stopped, +swayed a little and, dropping into the nearest chair, broke into a +flood of tears--such tears as had shaken her four years ago, when she +drove out of Carrigmore on the day of her wedding. + + + + +_PART IV_ + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The penetrating Florentine sunshine was enveloping the villa that stood +upon the hill above San Domenico; but it was not the full, warm +sunshine of late April that had opened the roses in the garden and +deepened the shadows of the cypress trees nearly two years earlier, +when Clodagh had dreamed of her visit to Venice. It was the cool +sunlight of February, and it fell across the polished floors, and threw +into prominence the many antique and curious objects that filled the +rooms, with a searching clearness that almost seemed like a human +scrutiny. + +In a small salon that opened upon the terrace Clodagh sat at a bureau. +In front of her was a formidable array of letters and business papers, +neatly bound into packets by elastic bands, and under her hand was +spread a sheaf of unused, black-bordered note-paper. + +Whether it was the multitude of her own thoughts that retarded the task +she had in hand, or a certain air of absolute stillness that seemed to +brood over the villa, one could not say; but certain it is that for +nearly half an hour she sat in an attitude of abstraction, her fingers +poised above the note-paper, the tip of her pen held against her lips. + +At last, however, a new idea seemed born in her mind, for she laid down +her pen, rose suddenly to her feet, and moving across the room, paused +beside the window. + +For a long, silent space she stood at this closed window, her gaze +wandering over the scene that custom had rendered so familiar,--the +hillside, cut into characteristic tiers of earth, until it sloped +downwards almost like a flight of steps, from which the grey olive +trees and the black cypresses rose sharply defined in the brilliant +atmosphere; at its foot, Florence, with its suggestion of dark-roofed +houses and clustering spires; and beyond all, encircling all, the low +chain of mountains, blue and purple in the sun. Quite suddenly, with a +swift, impulsive movement, she unfastened the latch and threw the +window open. + +In the added radiance that poured into the room, she stood more +distinctly revealed, and the slight changes that even two years can +make became visible in her face and figure. The pose of her body and +the carriage of her head were precisely as they had been, but her +cheeks were a little thinner, and some of her brilliant colouring was +gone; but the fact that would most speedily have appealed to one who +had not seen her for the two years was the circumstance that she wore +deep mourning--a mourning that lent an unfamiliar, almost a fragile air +to her whole appearance. + +That would have been the first impression; and then, as one studied her +more closely, it would have been borne in upon one that these were mere +outward signs--that the true, the real alteration lay not in dress, not +in the thinness of her face nor in the unwonted pallor of her skin, but +in the very curious expression with which she gazed out over the +distant hills; the look of kinship--of comprehension--of that illusive, +subtle sentiment that we call anticipation, with which her eyes met the +far-off sky line. + +For many moments she stood as if fascinated by the sense of promise +that breathed and vibrated in the spring air; then, at last, with a +quickly taken breath, she turned away from the open window, and, +recrossing the room, seated herself again at the bureau, picked up her +pen, and with new inspiration began to write. + + "LARRY--DEAR COUSIN,-- + + "I, the worst correspondent in all the world, am going to write you + a long letter--because my heart is so full of thoughts that I must + unburden it to some one who will listen. Who better than my + friend--my brother--of the old dear, dear days? + + "It was good of you and Aunt Fan to write me those two long + affectionate letters; and I needed them. For though there was no + horror in James's death, death itself is--and always must + be--terrible to me. Terrible--but also very, very wonderful! + Wonderful beyond words, when one realises that somebody one has + known as good and kind and unselfish--but ordinary, Larry, ordinary + as oneself--is suddenly transformed into something infinitely wise + and mysterious, with a mystery one can only think about and fear. + + "One month ago, James was in his usual health, going about his + little daily tasks, losing himself in his little daily interests. + And now he understands the million things that puzzle you and me + and the rest of the world of living people! + + "His death--as I told you in my first short note--was painless and + quiet, and unselfish like his life. He held my hand and knew me to + the very end, and spoke to me quite lucidly of his affairs half an + hour before he died. And, Larry--I think he was happy! You cannot + imagine what it is to be able to say that! Death brings so many + regrets. It frightens me when I look back now over the years, and + think of our marriage. It was so terribly, cruelly unwise. A man of + his age, a girl of mine! And, knowing what I know now, the first + years must have been very bitter for him. Since then, things have + been better--and worse. Two years ago we were perilously near + disaster--he and I--when something--it does not matter what--saved + us both. + + "How sincerely I thank God, now, that it was so. At the time I + suffered horribly; but it was good for me. It made me see that duty + is not merely a negative thing. And now it is all over--all over, + like a dream that is past. I am as I was. I am free! + + "I seem heartless to say that. I could not say it to any one except + you--or Nance. And I even wonder if Nance could quite understand. I + feel that she must be so very much younger than myself. But you + will not misunderstand, Larry, will you? You will see that it isn't + want of heart, but just the knowledge that there is a future--a + future for me, who had ceased to believe in one! + + "Just before I began this letter I stood for a long time at an open + window, looking out over Florence, lying below me in the wonderful + sunshine that comes to Italy in the spring; and quite suddenly, + Larry, I thought of England in May. England in May! It seems to + suggest a hundred, thousand things. Don't say I am disloyal! For, + of course, I want to go home to Orristown; but not just yet--not + just yet. I feel--I cannot quite explain it to you--just a little + afraid of going back to Ireland. Just at the moment it is too full + of memories. But I want to see England. I want to live in England. + + "Yes; I _shall_ live in England--for the present at least. And you + and Aunt Fan must come and stay with me; and then you will report + on your stewardship! For, of course, you are still to manage + Orristown--as well and capably as you have managed it during the + last three years. I always think it was one of James's kindest + actions to me to give that management to you, though I shall always + regret that you and Aunt Fan will not make use of that big empty + house. But what is the good of talking! The Asshlins are all + disgustingly proud. + + "I can see you smile as you read this, and perhaps I can hear you + say: 'How like Clo!' I hope--oh, Larry, I hope I can! + + "Give them all my love--Hannah, Burke, the dogs, and Polly. Dear, + pretty Polly! How I crave sometimes for just one long, wild gallop. + She must be eight years old by now; and yet she looks as fit as + ever--you said so in your letter of a month ago. Dear, pretty + Polly! + + "I can do very much as I like now, Larry, in every way. James has + been more than generous. I am to have the interest on sixty + thousand pounds, although I may not touch the capital. A wise + precaution. Was there ever an Asshlin who could keep money? But, as + it is, I shall be rich. Two thousand pounds a year! Why, it is + wealth. And then again there is another thing in which James has + been good to us. He has placed a thousand pounds to my credit, + apart from my own money, which I am to give to Nance on her + twenty-first birthday, or on her engagement, should she marry with + my consent before she comes of age. Was it not a kindly, thoughtful + act? But does it not seem incredible to talk about Nance--little + Nance--being of an age when she might think of marrying? I often + long to see her--and sometimes I feel ridiculously shy and a little + bit afraid; it is so strange that we have never in all these years + visited England, and that some plan of poor James's should always + have prevented her spending her holidays with us--though, so far as + that goes, Carrigmore was a more homelike place than Italy to spend + them in. + + "What is she really like? You say she has grown very pretty, but + you never say more than that. Men don't realise how women crave for + details. But I shall see her for myself in a few weeks. She leaves + school next month, you know, and will join me at once. Before + James's death she had been asked on a visit to America by the + mother of a school friend of hers--a girl named Estcoit, who is + leaving school on the same day as Nance. But now that is all + changed. She writes begging me to let her come to me directly; and + her letter has made me know that, beneath all the silly feelings of + shyness and uncertainty, I too want her. + + "So now I have said all. Now you see me as I am, Larry--more the + old Clodagh than I have been for years. The Clodagh who remembers + and loves you always, as her dear cousin--her dear, dear brother." + +The letter ended unconventionally, without a signature; but the writing +of the last lines was strong and bold, with a vigorous upward curve. + +With a touch of impetuosity, Clodagh picked up an envelope and +addressed it to Laurence Asshlin at Orristown; then, rising from the +bureau, she rang a bell. + +An Italian man-servant responded to the summons--the same man-servant +who had waited at breakfast on the morning that Milbanke had received +Barnard's summons to Venice. Entering the room with sympathetic +deference, he paused just inside the door. + +"Signora!" he murmured. + +Clodagh turned to him, the black-edged envelope in her hand. + +"Tell Simonetta to bring me my hat and cloak," she said. "I'm going +down into Florence--to post a letter." And without waiting to see what +expression her declaration brought to the man's face, she crossed the +room and stood once more in the flood of clear, cool sunlight that +poured through the open window. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Exactly one week later Clodagh arrived in Paris on her way to England. +Simonetta Ottolenghi--an Italian woman, who had been in her service as +maid for nearly four years--was her only companion; there was no friend +to meet or welcome her in the unfamiliar city, and even the dog +Mick--the companion of so many solitary hours--had been left behind in +Florence until she could conveniently send for him; yet, incongruous as +it may sound, her feelings were happy--her mind was free from +loneliness as her train steamed into the crowded railway station and +she found herself free to drive to her hotel. After all, life +undeniably stretched before her, and there was no prohibition against +letting her eyes dwell upon the vistas it opened up! + +Knowledge of duty done--be the doing ever so tardy--is the best +stimulus for the wayfarer in the world's by-ways; and Clodagh, as she +stepped from her train on that February afternoon, was conscious of +some such reassuring certainty. + +In the last two years, life for her had been a thing of physical +inaction, accompanied by a subtle process of mental development. The +night of tempestuous excitement--when, in a whirl of pain, chagrin, and +passionate self-contempt, she had repudiated Venice and her newly made +friends--had been the birth of a fresh phase in her existence. With all +the ardour, all the enthusiasm, whereof her vivid nature was capable, +she had veered from her former point of view to another almost as +extreme. The return to Florence, the taking up of existence in the +secluded villa, had been like the incidents of a dream; then, in the +days that had succeeded--in the early mornings, or the late +evenings--as she sat upon the marble rim of the drowsy fountain in the +garden, gazed down from Fiesole upon the sleeping Roman amphitheatre, +or knelt in a dim recess of the old church of San Dominico, rendered +mystical by the smell of incense and the flicker of wax tapers, the +dream had shaped itself. It had become a tapestry, into the pictures of +which many figures were woven, but where only two took place and +prominence--her own and one other. + +For in those silent hours the thought of Gore--the remembrance of +Gore--had come back to her as tangible things. In that solitude peopled +by imagination, she had forgotten the hurt vanity, the bitter +disappointment, that had clothed her last interview with him; and +remembered only that, seeing fit to reprove her, he had dared to do +so--that, seeing the brink upon which she had stood, he had put out his +hand to draw her back. + +And, standing in this new light, Gore became an ideal, a being apart, +endowed with endless power to inspire high deeds. An idealist born, +Clodagh was created to make-believe. The make-believes were probably +the swaying of an impulsive mind from one emotional pole to the other; +but in this case, at least, benefit accrued. She developed a sudden +gentle tolerance of Milbanke--an altogether unprecedented care for his +comfort and well-being. + +The working of this profoundly subtle emotion was far too deep to be +even guessed at by herself. And had any student of human nature told +her that the new tenderness for the timid, unassuming husband, who made +so few demands upon her consideration, arose from the fact that another +man had crossed her life--rousing at once her imagination, her +antagonism, and her admiration, showing her new depths in the world +around her, new possibilities within herself--she would have been both +incredulous and indignant. + +But no student of human nature visited the villa. And she lived +undisturbed in her atmosphere of dreams. Whether the vague, +subconscious thought that Gore, away in his own world, might hear of +her graver attitude towards life and might secretly approve, ever lent +zest to her self-imposed duties, it would have been impossible to say; +but certain it is that if the thought came, it came unbidden and stayed +unrecognised. + +And now Milbanke was dead. And life--not the mythical life of memories, +of dreams, even of ideals, but the life of hope and warm human +possibilities--was hers, as it had been long ago, before her husband's +name had ever been spoken in her presence. + +Her mind was at peace, as she drove through the narrow streets of +Paris, with their cheerful characteristic chorus of shouting +newsvendors, and cracking whips. + +The hotel she had chosen was a small one, close to the Place Vendome; +and when her fiacre stopped and she entered the vestibule, her sense of +pleasure and contentment increased. The quiet air of the place +contrasted agreeably with her previous experience of hotel life. + +Still conscious of this impression of security, she turned away from +the bureau where she had registered her name, and crossed the vestibule +to the lift. Taking her place on the velvet-covered seat, she watched +the attendant close the iron doors and turn to set the lift in motion. +But at the moment that he laid his hand upon the button, she saw the +swinging doors of the hotel open, to admit a lady. + +The new-comer, seeing that the lift was about to ascend, hurried +towards it; and Clodagh, idly interested by the sound of rustling silk, +leaned forward in her seat. But the light in the vestibule was dim, and +she caught nothing beyond the outline of a large hat and the suggestion +of a pale green dress. Then, suddenly, the stranger spoke, and her +heart gave a tremendous leap. + +"Wait!" she called in French--"wait! I am coming!" + +It needed but the five words, spoken in a clear, dictatorial voice, to +assure Clodagh that the speaker was known to her; and as the attendant +paused in his task, and, turning promptly, opened the grilled door, her +mind was prepared for the vision of Lady Frances Hope. + +But if she was prepared for the encounter, the new-comer was taken +completely by surprise. Entering the lift, she glanced casually at its +other occupant; then her whole face changed. + +"It is---- It can't be! It _is_ Mrs. Milbanke!" Her glance passed +rapidly over Clodagh's deep mourning and her expression altered in +accordance. "My dear Mrs. Milbanke," she said softly, "how thoughtless +of me not to realise at once! I heard through Mr. Barnard. How are +you?--how are you?" + +She pressed the hand Clodagh had offered her, and looked +sympathetically into her face. Then, as the lift, gliding upwards, +stopped at the first floor and Clodagh rose, her expression changed +again. + +"Are you located on this floor? How delightful! We are neighbours. I am +number five. What are you?" + +"Seven," Clodagh said gently, speaking for the first time. There was +something very strange to her in this meeting--something not altogether +unpleasant. In the two years since they had met--and in the light of +her last evening in Venice--the image of Lady Frances Hope had become +slightly distorted. And there was a sense of surprise, of reassurance +in finding her so kindly, so gracious, so unalarming. + +"Seven!" Lady Frances repeated. "Delightful! You must dine with me +to-night. I have a private room, and am quite alone. It will be an act +of charity. I am on my way south. By the way, where are you bound for?" + +Clodagh smiled. + +"I am going home." + +"Home?" + +"To England." + +"England! My dear child, not England in February? Why, the atmosphere +is a combination of fog and sleet; and the people----" She made a +gesture of horror. "Everybody who hasn't influenza is either expecting +it or shaking it off." + +Clodagh laughed a little. + +"I have never had influenza. It will be an experience. But I must look +after my maid. Travelling is new to her." + +She glanced down the corridor to where Simonetta was awaiting her +beside a mountain of luggage. + +Lady Frances made haste to echo her laugh. + +"Well, well!" she said. "It's good to have the enthusiasm of youth. But +you will dine with me? Dinner in an hour." + +Clodagh hesitated. Yesterday she would have ardently avoided a meeting +with Lady Frances Hope. Now that it had been thrust upon her, it seemed +to possess no danger. What was it Gore had said on that memorable +night? "I am not depreciating Lady Frances Hope or her social +standing----" Very swiftly she recalled the words and construed them in +the light of her present feelings. After all, she was not the child she +had been two years ago. And it was not Lady Frances, but the set that +surrounded her, to which Gore took exception. + +Her companion, seeing the hesitation in her eyes, gave a quick, bright +smile. + +"Do come! I will give you news of--every one." + +Clodagh coloured slightly. + +"Very well!" she said. "In an hour. Thank you very much!" + +And with an agreeable, unfamiliar sense of interest and excitement, she +turned and passed down the corridor to where Simonetta stood. + +Before opening her own door, Lady Frances Hope stood for a few seconds +watching the retreating figure; then, apparently without reason, she +frowned, drew her lips together, and pushing her door hastily open, +passed out of sight. + + +Still imbued with the sense of contentment, Clodagh changed her heavy +black travelling dress for one of lighter texture, allowed Simonetta to +rearrange her hair, and, at the appointed hour, presented herself at +Lady Frances Hope's door. + +Lady Frances had also discarded her elaborate costume for something +lighter and more comfortable, and was ensconced on a low divan, reading +a French novel, when her guest was announced. Immediately Clodagh's +name reached her, she threw the book aside, and rose with great +cordiality. + +"How sweet you look!" she exclaimed. "You are the first dark woman I've +ever liked in black. But then, of course, you are not exactly dark. Sit +down! Dinner will be served in a moment. How did you know of this +place? Have you stayed here before?" + +Clodagh had come forward and seated herself beside her hostess. Now, as +she looked about her, she noticed with a feeling of restfulness that +the room was pretty and homelike, and that there were flowers on the +tables and soft yellow shades on the electric lamps. + +"No; I have never been here before. Mr. Barnard gave the address to +my--my husband, when we were in Venice; and I came across it among his +papers after--after----" She hesitated. + +Lady Frances leaned forward sympathetically. + +"Poor child!" she murmured. "Don't talk of it! You have had a most +trying time. Barny told me all about it only a week ago. But this place +is really quite good," she added, in a cheerful voice; "better now than +ever. They have just secured the chef from the 'Abbati' Restaurant in +Venice. But, of course, you knew 'Abbati's.'" + +Her quick glance passed over Clodagh's face. Then she rose and moved to +the table, as two waiters entered, and dinner was announced. + +Clodagh coloured, and crossed the room in her hostess's wake. + +"Yes," she said, taking her seat at the table--"yes; I once dined +there. It was a wonderfully fascinating place. Has it been a failure?" + +Lady Frances shrugged her shoulders. + +"Vanished! But tell me about yourself!" She turned to her guest with a +change of manner. "You are not seriously contemplating England at this +time of year?" + +Clodagh smiled calmly. + +"Quite seriously." + +"But, my dear child, why, if one may be inquisitive?" + +"Because I want to know England--to know the English." + +Lady Frances's eyes narrowed very slightly; then she gave one of her +bright laughs. + +"Then come back with me to the Riviera! Any English people worth +studying will be found there. Change your plans! Come back with me!" + +Clodagh looked up. She was uncertain whether the suggestion had been +made in jest or earnest, and the smiling, searching glance of her +hostess did not enlighten her. With a slight feeling of embarrassment, +she broke off abruptly into another channel of talk. + +"And how is Mr. Barnard?" she asked. + +"Barny! Oh, optimistic as ever!" + +"Then there is one amusing person left in England!" + +Lady Frances laughed. + +"Only temporarily. He takes his holiday next month. Last March he +joined the Luards and me in Naples, and we all went on to Sicily. It +was tremendous fun." + +She laughed again over some recollection; and entered upon a history of +her Sicilian adventures that occupied the rest of dinner. + +At the termination of the meal, however, when the waiters had brought +in coffee and silently retired, she dropped her reminiscent tone, and, +rising from table, moved back to the divan, which was drawn pleasantly +near to a bright wood fire. + +"Come here, and let's be comfortable!" she said. "I always have a +cigarette after dinner. I forget whether you smoke." + +Clodagh smiled, as she came slowly forward. + +"Not since my cousin and I used to smoke in the top branches of an +apple tree in Ireland. I should be afraid to try the experiment again; +I might lose an illusion. No other cigarettes could taste like those +stolen ones!" + +She gave a little sigh, then a little laugh, and seated herself. + +Lady Frances looked up from the cigarette she was drawing from her +case. + +"Illusions!" she said. "Why, life is all illusions at your age!" She +paused; then, after a moment's silence, went on again, but in a slower, +more considered voice: "You thought I was jesting at dinner, when I +asked you to come south with me. But I wasn't. I meant it." She struck +a match and lighted her cigarette. "You don't know how you would enjoy +Nice. You lost yourself in the delights of roulette at Venice. Think +what Monte Carlo would be!" + +With a sudden tumultuous confusion, Clodagh flushed. + +"I--I have ceased to care about things like that," she said in a +hurried voice. + +Lady Frances's expression changed to one of deep interest, sharpened by +surprise. + +"Ceased to care?" she repeated softly. "Since when? And why?" + +"Since"--Clodagh hesitated--"oh, since that time in Venice." + +Her hostess flicked the ash from her cigarette. + +"Some new influence?" + +Clodagh was taken unawares. + +"I--I have got to know myself better since that time in Venice," she +said below her breath. "Some one--something--has made me see that it +was not my true self that showed then. I was foolish in those days. I +was carried away----" + +A very faint smile flitted across Lady Frances's lips. + +"That idea belongs to the some one else?" she said in a quiet, cordial +tone that invited confidence. + +Moved by a sudden impulse, Clodagh leant forward in her seat and +clasped her hands. As on the day in Florence--the day when she had +written her letter to Laurence Asshlin--her soul thirsted for +confession. After two long years of silent thought, the temptation to +open her heart in speech was overmastering. The room was comfortable, +dimly lighted, almost homelike; the hour was propitious; her hostess's +voice was extraordinarily kind. She stole one half-shy, half-eager +glance at the averted face. + +"Lady Frances," she said suddenly, "I was very childish, very foolish, +that time in Venice. I knew it even before I--before I left." + +With extreme tact, Lady Frances refrained from looking at her. Smoking +quietly, she made her next remark in a low, reassuring voice. + +"Then that was why you left so suddenly?" + +"That was why." + +"Walter Gore must have been very eloquent!" + +Lady Frances spoke in the same even tone; but, as she felt the thrill +of surprise with which Clodagh received her words, she turned quickly +and decisively, and met her startled eyes. + +"I always knew that Walter Gore went back with you to your hotel on +that last night," she said. "I always knew that he read you a very +moral lecture." + +Clodagh drew a quick breath. + +"But how did you know?" + +Lady Frances studied her face for a moment; then she gave a direct +answer to the question put to her. + +"Walter himself told me," she said. + +After she had spoken there was silence in the room. On her part it was +the silence of the experimenter, who has taken a step in a new +direction and is waiting for results; on Clodagh's, it was the silence +of incredulity, of doubt, of dread. That Gore should have spoken of +that last night in Venice to any third person was a circumstance that, +at very least, needed explanation. She sat breathlessly waiting that +explanation. + +During the moment of fruitful silence Lady Frances Hope remained very +still, fingering her cigarette, drawing in fitful puffs of smoke, +avoiding with elaborate carelessness any observation of her companion's +manner. + +Then, as if some psychological crisis for which she was waiting had +been achieved, she altered her position and her expression; and, +turning, laid her hand upon Clodagh's. + +"Dear Mrs. Milbanke," she said, "I am glad all this has happened; I am +glad we have met. You are at a moment in your life when you need a +friend--a friend who understands----" + +Her fingers tightened upon Clodagh's in a warm, sympathetic pressure. + +"You are young; you are free; you have the whole world at your feet. +Don't spoil your life by taking it too seriously! + +"When I was your age, or only a little older than you, I was left a +widow--as you have been left; but I was unlike you in one particular: I +had a very wise and far-seeing mother to help me with her advice. Do +you know what her advice was?" + +Clodagh sat silent. + +"It was comprised in one sentence. 'Avoid scandal, but fly from +sentiment!' Do you see all the wisdom in that advice to a woman who has +just become her own mistress?" + +Still Clodagh was silent, filled by a sense of uncertainty, of +loneliness, of fear. She waited for Lady Frances's explanation with the +numb sense of helplessness that is born of ignorance. + +"Of course, I may be wrong," the strong, reliant voice went on; "but I +feel you are in need of just such counsel. You are emotional; you are +an idealist; you are coming out into life expecting it to be a fairy +tale--and it is not a fairy tale. It is a realistic story--sometimes a +long one, sometimes a short one, but always realistic. Take my advice! +Make the best of it as it is! Don't break your heart because there are +no dragons, or castles, or princes." + +She paused at last; and at last Clodagh spoke. + +"You are very kind--very good. But I don't see what it all has to do +with me." + +With a frank, almost an affectionate gesture, Lady Frances took both +her hands, and, looking into her face, spoke the words for which she +had so carefully prepared the way. + +"If what I am going to say hurts you, you must forgive me. I feel such +centuries older than you, that I can risk a great deal. Don't spoil +your life, don't throw away your pleasure, because of one moral +lecture! It isn't worth while. I know what I am saying. People like +Walter Gore are reprehensible. They take themselves so seriously, that +sometimes other people make the mistake of taking them seriously too; +and then things go wrong." + +Clodagh's face became a shade paler. + +"I--I am stupid," she said. "I don't seem to understand." + +"My dear! It is so hard to say it bluntly." + +"Please say it bluntly." + +For an instant the older woman hesitated before the coldness of +Clodagh's tone; but the next, she took the opening offered her. + +"You are deliberately turning away from the best in life because some +one, in a moment of enthusiasm, preached you a sermon. You make the +mistake of thinking that Walter Gore did something unusual when he +warned you against cards and roulette--against Lord Deerehurst and Val +Serracauld and me--whereas, Walter was born to preach!" + +Clodagh's lips parted. Lady Frances had justified herself. Gore _had_ +spoken of that last interview. But why? And how? + +"Lady Frances," she said very quietly, "why did Sir Walter Gore tell +you all these things?" + +Lady Frances freed the hands she had continued to hold. + +"Oh, we are old friends. He tells me many things. I fought more than +one battle for you, while you were in Venice--and afterwards." + +"For me? After I left Venice?" + +"Oh, many battles. Walter is so extreme in his judgments of men and +things. I lose patience with him sometimes." + +"And what was Sir Walter Gore's judgment of me--after I left Venice?" + +Lady Frances gave a little deprecating laugh. + +"Would that be quite fair?" + +"Yes, I think so, if I wish to know." + +The older woman took a fresh cigarette from the case beside her. + +"And you won't be offended?" + +"I won't be offended." Clodagh's voice sounded a little dry. + +"Well, then--oh, really, it's very stupid! Perhaps I'd better not." + +Clodagh rose quietly from the divan and walked to the mantelpiece. + +"Please tell me," she said. + +At her tone, her hostess ceased to dally. She struck a match and raised +the cigarette to her lips. + +"Well," she said, with another little apologetic laugh, "I think Walter +has always imagined you a very pretty, very fascinating--little fool!" + +There was another silence--very short but very tense. Lady Frances laid +down her cigarette unlighted, and blew out the match. + +"Mrs. Milbanke, you don't mind?" + +Clodagh laughed--suddenly and almost loudly. + +"Mind? Mind? Why _should_ I mind?" + +Had her denial been a shade less intense, its steadiness might have +deceived her companion; as it was, the faintest flickering smile +touched her lips, as she also rose and came slowly forward. + +"My dear child!" she murmured reproachfully--"my dear child, you have +misunderstood. I never implied that Walter interested you personally; I +merely used him as an illustration--as a means of conveying the folly +of taking serious people seriously. But you are tired. I have been +cruelly unreasonable. I shall send you straight to bed. You are fagged +after that long journey." + +She put out her hand and laid it on Clodagh's arm; but Clodagh was not +in a mood to be caressed. + +"It's all right!" she said abruptly. "I suppose we both misunderstood. +I _am_ a little tired. I think I _will_ say good-night!" + +"Good-night, dear child!" Lady Frances pressed her hand, and walked +with her slowly across the room. As she passed out into the corridor, +she waved a gay farewell. "Sleep well!" she called. "But dream of an +English February--and wake with a changed mind!" + +As she said the last words, Clodagh paused for a moment; then went on +again without speaking, and entered her own room. + + +Tired though she was, she scarcely slept that night; and in the early +hours of the morning she saw the bright dawn break over Paris. At eight +o'clock she rang for Simonetta, and asked for ink, pen, and note-paper. + +Sitting up in bed, she wrote the following note. + + "DEAR LADY FRANCES, + + "As we are both women, I can hope that you won't call me variable. + If you still want me as a companion, I think I will, after all, go + with you to Nice. Looking into the matter more closely, I find I + really have no affinity for sleet or influenza! + + "Yours, + + "CLODAGH MILBANKE." + +Having despatched the note to Lady Frances Hope, she wrote two long, +feverishly hasty letters--one to Laurence Asshlin at Orristown, the +other to Nance at her school near London. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was in the middle of February that Clodagh arrived in Paris on her +journey home; and it was the end of April before that ardently planned +return to England at last took place. + +On a fresh, showery April afternoon when all London looked renewed and +beautified by soft air and fitful brilliant sunshine, she alighted from +the train at Charing Cross. + +Her arrival in the lofty, unfamiliar station was very different from +her arrival at the bustling, exciting Parisian terminus two months +earlier. Then, she had descended from her train with the rapidity of +one who sees in the least promising object the hope--if not the +certainty--of interest; now, she left her carriage with the quiet +indifference to outward circumstance that acquaintance with society +teaches. Unconsciously she had learned to move as the women of the +world move--the women who know themselves possessed of a certain value, +and are faintly flattered, faintly amused, perhaps faintly wearied by +the knowledge. + +As she walked down the platform a momentary glimmering of +disappointment crossed her face; and she turned to Simonetta who had +come hurrying towards her. + +"I thought Lady Frances would have met us," she said. "But I suppose +she is waiting at the flat." + +Simonetta looked up solicitously at her mistress. "And the signora?" +she hazarded. "She is not tired?" + +Clodagh smiled a little absently. + +"Oh no, Simonetta! You must not trouble about me. I have come home, you +know!" She gave a little laugh. "But we must not delay," she added. +"Have you the keys of all the boxes?" + +"Yes, signora." + +"Then you can see to the examining of the luggage. When it is done, +this porter will put you into a cab. I have given him the address." + +"Yes, signora." + +"Then I shall see you at the flat?" + +"Yes, signora." + +Clodagh smiled again; and, turning away, wended her way through the +crowd of passengers surrounded by eager relatives and friends. + +Reaching the courtyard of the station, she unostentatiously hailed a +hansom, and, having given her new address to the cabman, took her seat. +A moment later, the cab swung out into London--became one with the +concourse of traffic that, in the season, seems to overflow the +streets. For the instant Clodagh felt herself merged in the teeming +life, which the open doors of the vehicle permitted to approach so +nearly; for the instant she stifled the sense of isolation that had +been slowly gathering force. And, leaning forward in her seat, fixed +her attention upon the passing scene. + +Across Trafalgar Square, up Waterloo Place, and into the traffic of +Piccadilly she was borne with exhilarating speed--the cabman avoiding +with extreme dexterity the throng of carriages, motor cars, and +omnibuses that seemed momentarily to increase. To Clodagh, sitting +rigidly attentive, the scene appeared like an impressive pageant--a +pageant of magnificent wealth and abundant prosperity, a splendid, +characteristic picture, in which the budding English trees, the +imposing English clubs, the gorgeous English equipages, and the +beautiful English women made up the background and the central figures. +It was the great procession of a life she had seen only in imagination; +and as her curious eyes drank in its details, she found herself almost +mechanically repeating in her mind the formula to which for the past +two months she had clung with passionate persistence. + +"I _will_ live! I _will_ enjoy!" + +For the two months this had been her philosophy. Unconsciously, it had +been her philosophy since the night in Paris, when, in one hour, her +castle of imagination had fallen about her feet, and she had stood, as +it were, houseless. In that brief space of time she had realised that +she had been inhabiting a fool's paradise. A fool's paradise! The name +had seemed curiously apt; and through the long, dark hours of that +hateful night her cheeks had burned as she recalled how she had peopled +her enchanted realm, while all the time its unconscious creator had +forgotten its creation--or remembered it only as one self-righteous act +among many. Lady Frances Hope was right! Deerehurst had been right! +Barnard had been right! Ideals were a mistake--things made to be +shattered, as hopes were made to be broken! To live--to live fully, +heedlessly, extravagantly--was the only wisdom. Gore had spoken truly! +She had been a fool. She had been wrong in supposing that she had a +debt to work off; on the contrary, life was her debtor. It was she who +had a score against life! + +In this fever of mind, she had written the letters that sent Nance on +her interrupted journey to America; cancelled her invitation to her +aunt and cousin to stay with her in England; and set her own feet on +the road to the south. And in the weeks that followed, the same fever +had burned in her blood. During the preparations for the Riviera and +during the journey to Nice, she had been possessed by a frenzy of +energy. She had craved for incessant action and excitement with a +pertinacity that had seemed insatiable. + +And in the crowded Casino at Monte Carlo she had at last attained her +object--she had at last succeeded in losing herself; there, day after +day, night after night, she had sat in the stifling, scented +atmosphere, listening to the incessant, significant click of gold and +silver, watching the artificial light glare down upon the hideously +artificial faces pressed in densely packed circles round the long green +tables. The place had fascinated her with its outward immobility, its +hidden sea of greedy passion. It was, she had fiercely told herself, +life! + +After six weeks, Lady Frances Hope had announced her intention of +returning to London. But Clodagh had implored her to postpone her +departure for another week; and when she had laughingly declared the +delay impossible, had announced her own determination to remain on +alone--a determination which no argument of her companion's had been +powerful enough to alter. + +And now, after nearly eight weeks spent between Monte Carlo and Nice, +she was returning to take up her residence in a London flat, chosen for +her by Lady Frances. + +Her brain felt feverishly active as the cab, having skirted the park +railings from Hyde Park Corner to Knightsbridge, turned into the square +courtyard belonging to the large, quiet building where she was to find +her home. + +Descending quickly, she entered the big doorway and glanced curiously +at her new surroundings. The vestibule was imposing, but a little +lonely. And although the hall porter came almost immediately to her +assistance, and listened attentively to the information that she was +the new tenant of the second floor flat, and that her maid and her +luggage were following in another cab, his impersonal air daunted her. +She was annoyed--and almost frightened--by the sudden, poignant desire +that assailed her to see even one familiar face. + +However, she listened in her own turn to the polite assurance that all +was in readiness for her arrival; and in due course she passed sedately +to the lift, and was borne upwards. + +As she stepped out upon the richly carpeted passage that led to her own +door, she looked round in the half-formed expectation that Lady Frances +Hope might be waiting for her outside her rooms; but almost at once she +dismissed the idea. English people were not demonstrative! She would +find Lady Frances awaiting her beside a cosy tea-table--or a bright +fire! With the haste of anticipation, she crossed the corridor, and +pressed the electric bell. + +There was a slight delay before the summons was answered; then the door +was opened by a well-dressed, unemotional-looking maid. + +Clodagh stepped forward. + +"I am Mrs. Milbanke--your mistress," she said quickly. + +The woman looked at her without curiosity. + +"Will you kindly walk in, madam?" she said. "I hope you will find +everything in order." + +A chill--a chill that painfully suggested home-sickness--fell upon +Clodagh; but she thrust it resentfully aside and entered the pretty +panelled hall of the flat. + +"Where is Lady Frances Hope?" she asked, pausing just inside the +threshold. + +The maid came forward respectfully, but without enthusiasm. + +"Her ladyship has not been here to-day, madam. Can I attend to you, +madam, until your maid arrives?" + +Clodagh stood very still. She was conscious of a horrible, inordinate +disappointment; but aware that the servant's eyes were still upon her, +she rallied her self-control. + +"Thanks!" she said. "I shan't want anything but a cup of tea. Bring me +some tea to my own room. Did Lady Frances Hope leave no message?" + +"No message, madam." + +The maid hesitated for an instant longer; then, feeling herself +dismissed, moved noiselessly away to the servant's quarters. + +Left alone, Clodagh stood irresolute. This was her home! Her eyes +wandered round the hall, from the walls of which the pictures of the +former tenant looked down as though they criticised the intruder. This +was her home coming! A home coming devoid of one friendly hand, one +welcoming word! Unable to quell the passion of loneliness that swelled +within her, she turned blindly and opened the door that stood nearest +to her. + +It was the dining-room that she had chanced upon--a charming +white-panelled room, furnished with Sheraton furniture. But in her +present mood, its graceful severity failed to please her; to her lonely +gaze it had an uninhabited look--it seemed almost to resemble a very +perfect room upon the stage. Drawing back hastily, she closed the door; +and, moving down the hall, entered another room. + +This proved to be her own bedroom--a bright, high-ceiled apartment +decorated and furnished in old French fashion and possessing two large +windows, looking upon Hyde Park. But here again she was confronted by +the sensation of unfamiliarity. And as she paused just inside the door, +looking from the long windows to the stately bed, she was suddenly and +completely dominated by her feelings. In a tempestuous wave of emotion, +her hunger for happiness rose menacingly, while the tide of her +philosophy suddenly ebbed. In that moment, as she stood alone in the +wide room, she swayed between trust in her own heart and faith in the +world's healing power. Then, as so frequently happens, the world +snatched the laurels before they had been held out. + +With the same unmoved demeanour, the maid who had admitted her, +appeared at the door. + +"If you please, madam, the housemaid tells me that her ladyship _did_ +send a note for you this morning. You'll find it on the +dressing-table." + +At the woman's words, Clodagh started, and her whole face coloured and +changed. Hurrying across the room, she saw the letter, picked it up, +and tore it open. + + "DEAREST CLODAGH," she read. + + "I must seem a perfect beast. But my old Aunt Deborah--with whom I + can't afford to quarrel!--has announced her stupid intention of + spending a day in town. And of course it must be this day of all + days! _Do_ be a darling and show you forgive me by coming round to + dine at eight-thirty. Lord Deerehurst returned yesterday from the + famous two months' rest-cure, looking younger than ever. He and Val + will be here to-night. Bridge after dinner. Don't fail to come. + + "Yours, + + "F. H." + +As Clodagh read the last line of the letter, she lifted her head, and +turned with a quick gesture to the maid who was waiting by the door. + +"I want a fire lighted here and my tea brought to me immediately it is +ready," she cried in a changed voice. "And send my maid in directly she +arrives. I'm dining out!" + +Without waiting for a reply, she crossed the room and paused beside +one of the windows, looking down upon the park. Her spirits had risen; +her excitement had been rekindled; she had been saved from the +companionship she had learned to dread--companionship with herself. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Lady Frances Hope's house was situated in Curzon Street; and thither +Clodagh departed shortly after eight o'clock. + +Again she chose a hansom as a means of conveyance, for as yet there had +been no question of her procuring a carriage of her own; and again she +became conscious of the peculiar stimulus, the peculiar power that the +great tide of London life exercises upon its observers. The last +glimmering of daylight was lingering in the sky as the cab passed up +Knightsbridge, but already the houses and hotels were brilliantly +lighted, and the stream of diners and theatre-goers was forming into +its nightly procession. + +During that short drive, she encountered many glances--glances of +interest, criticism or curiosity from women well-dressed as herself and +bound upon some such mission as her own--glances of sharp speculation +or sudden admiration from men driving, west or southward. And something +of London's immensity, something of London's secrecy, came to her in +those brief moments; she was stirred by the fact that has moved many +another dweller in the vast city--the fact that every day, every night, +some thousands of lives brush our own in a passing glance, in a stray +word, in a chance touch, and then drift on into mystery, never to +reappear. + +Her thoughts were confused and excited as she descended from the cab +and entered the Curzon Street house; but on the moment that she stepped +into the hall, her dreams were banished. A door on her right opened, +and her hostess hurried forward and kissed her effusively. + +"You dear thing!" she cried. "Wasn't it abominable of me? Was the +arrival desperately weary? Come up to my bedroom. The men haven't come +yet. What ages it seems since we said good-bye at Nice! How are you?" +She talked in her masterful voice, without waiting for a reply, until +they entered the bedroom. There her maid, who was busying herself at +the dressing-table, came forward to assist Clodagh; but Lady Frances +checked her at once. + +"Mrs. Milbanke won't need you, Rees. I'll take off her cloak." + +Rees moved obediently towards the door; but there she ventured to pause +for a moment. + +"I hope you had a comfortable journey, madam," she said. + +Clodagh, invariably gracious to her inferiors, turned to her warmly. + +"Thank you, Rees! An excellent journey! But I'm glad to see everybody +look so well." She added the last with a little smile, to which the +maid responded as she closed the door. + +Lady Frances laughed. + +"You have bewitched Rees!" she said. "But you do that as you eat or +sleep--by instinct. Let me look at you!" She laid her hands on +Clodagh's shoulders and turned her towards the light. + +"You've been playing every night since I left you," she said with +decision. + +Clodagh laughed with some constraint. + +"And losing?" + +Clodagh flushed. + +"I have no luck," she said shortly. Then, almost at once, she turned +away, freeing herself from her companion's detaining hands. + +"Lady Frances," she said in a different tone, "please don't think I +forget about--about----" she hesitated. "I get my first allowance at +the beginning of July, you know----" + +She paused; and Lady Frances gave a seemingly careless laugh. "My good +child, don't speak of it! Any time!--any time!" + +"You are very kind. I had hoped to settle up on my return, but the last +week was shocking. But everything will be right at the beginning of +July. She walked over to the dressing-table and looked at herself in +the long glass. + +"What a sweet house you have!" she said suddenly in an entirely +different voice. + +Lady Frances had been watching her with a close scrutiny; but now, with +a good deal of ready dissimulation, she threw off her attentive manner +and answered in Clodagh's own light tone. + +"Yes; it is a nice little place. But what about the flat? Isn't that +perfect?" + +"Yes." + +"You are not enthusiastic? Oh, I _am_ disappointed!" + +Clodagh turned from the mirror. + +"Forgive me!" she said impulsively. "Of course the flat is perfectly +sweet--and exactly what I want. It was just the arriving alone that +made it seem a little--a little----" + +"Of course!--of course! Poor dear child! But wait!--wait till you begin +to know people!" + +Clodagh's expressive face brightened. + +"Yes. And when Nance--when my sister comes back! Oh! I _must_ enjoy +myself! I _must_ be happy!" + +"Why should you be anything else? When have you heard from your +sister?" + +"The day I left Nice--a most dear letter. She is having a heavenly time +in America. The Estcoits are such delightful companions; the girl is +seven months younger than she is--and the boy is seven years older. +Curious difference, isn't it?" + +"Very. But I didn't know there was a boy. I thought it was only the +school friend and the mother." + +"Oh no! There's the brother--Pierce. Nance's letters are full of him." + +Lady Frances gave a little half-sarcastic laugh. + +"Then Nance is presumably still learning--though she has left school?" + +Something in the utterance of the words made Clodagh flush. + +"Don't!" she said involuntarily--"don't! Nance is--is different from +me." + +Then, as her hostess remained silent, she turned and looked at her. + +"Don't be offended!" she added. "It is only that I can't have anything +cynical said of Nance. I know you don't understand. It seems that +because I sent her to America, I don't really care----" She halted +again. + +"But I don't make you understand!--I don't seem to make any one +understand." Her voice dropped slightly; and Lady Frances, as though +fearing some emotional outburst, broke in hastily. + +"My dear child!--my dear Clodagh!" Then she paused, for the door opened +and her maid Rees reappeared. + +"Excuse me, my lady! But Lord Deerehurst and Mr. Serracauld are in the +drawing-room. Franks thought your ladyship would wish to know." + +"Quite right. Thank you, Rees! Clodagh, are you ready?" + +Clodagh's face was slightly flushed from her momentary outbreak, as she +left the bedroom. Descending the stairs, Lady Frances moved to her side +and passed her hand through her arm: and at the touch, a sharp +repulsion to this friendship--this fair weather, effusive, superficial +friendship--surged through her. And yet where was she to find a firmer +sentiment? Where, in all the world, was there a being who had any real +need of her? Her aunt? Her cousin? She knew instinctively that their +world and her own were inevitably sundered. Nance? Had not even +Nance--the little Nance of childish days--already begun to gather +interests of her own--to form her own friendships? No; there was no +niche that especially claimed, that especially needed her! + +At this point in her hasty and confused speculations, the door of the +drawing-room was thrown open: and, after an interval of two years, she +saw Lord Deerehurst and Serracauld. + +More than once she had pictured the meeting with the old peer; but, as +is invariably the case, the reality was much more vivid than the +imagination had been. Deerehurst came forward with the stiff, courtly +manner that brought back with almost painful clearness the balcony of +the Venetian palace--the Venetian salon with its polished floor and +glittering chandeliers--the Venetian night-music borne across the +waters. It all surged back in a wave of memory--first a pang of pain, +then a pang of reckless self-contempt. After all, who cared? What did +her action--her manner of living--even her existence--matter to any +living soul? She held out her hand and allowed him to bow over it. + +He bowed over it for a long time; then he raised his head and looked at +her. His pale, inscrutable face was as waxlike as ever; his eyes were +as cold, as penetrating, as old in their look of supreme wisdom. + +"So we meet again," he said. "My hope has been fulfilled!" + +For a moment Clodagh stood, permitting him to clasp her fingers and +look into her face, while she herself made no effort to speak; then, as +if suddenly conscious of something strange in the position, she freed +her hand with a little, nervous laugh, and turned to where Serracauld +was waiting to greet her. + +With a smile and a gesture of easy familiarity the younger man came +forward. + +"Welcome to England!" he said. "Only yesterday a man at my club was +telling me of the prettiest woman on the Riviera this year. I won't be +personal, but the lady was at Monte Carlo only a week ago--turning +other people's heads and emptying her own pockets with the most +delightful impartiality." + +Clodagh laughed, but this time without embarrassment. + +"Be as personal as you like!" she said carelessly. "It wasn't my fault +if luck was dead against me." + +Deerehurst came forward slowly. + +"But the turned heads?" he asked. + +She smiled. + +"Was it my business to put them straight again? I'm not a surgeon." + +They all laughed; and at that moment dinner was announced. + +Lady Frances Hope touched Clodagh's arm. + +"Lord Deerehurst will play host, Clodagh! Val, I consign myself to +you!" + +Serracauld moved to her side with his usual indolent ease; and +Deerehurst offered Clodagh his arm. + +They had to traverse the length of a large double drawing-room before +the dining-room was reached. And during that passage he found +opportunity for a whispered word or two. As they moved forward he +avoided looking at Clodagh; but his arm slightly and unmistakably +pressed hers. + +"Am I not forgiving--to be so glad to see you?" he murmured in his +thin, cold voice. "I waited on the terrace until twelve o'clock, that +night in Venice." + +Involuntarily her face flushed. His voice was as potent as ever to +express infinitely more than the words it uttered. + +"I--I wish to forget Venice," she said. + +He stole a swift glance at her. + +"Then shall we make a compact? Shall we forget it jointly?" + +She said nothing. + +Again, almost imperceptibly, his arm pressed hers. + +"Why try to ignore me? I am in your life." + +The words were few and very simple: so simple and so few that they +conveyed a peculiar impression of power--of weight. + +A faint, half-comprehended chill fell upon Clodagh; such a chill as had +fallen upon her once before in the "Abbati" Restaurant, when Deerehurst +had drunk to their next meeting as host and guest. + +She laughed suddenly, with a quick, nervous lifting of the head. + +"But it is life itself that I wish to ignore." + +Again he glanced at her--very swiftly, very searchingly. + +"So be it!" he said. "I take that as a challenge--to life and to me." + + +At the conclusion of dinner that night, the little party of four sat +down to bridge. And an hour after midnight Clodagh rose from the +card-table, a loser to the extent of over forty pounds. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +On a certain morning in the last week in June, Lady Frances Hope rode +into the courtyard of the Knightsbridge flats. Throwing her bridle to +the man-servant who was attending her, she dismounted from her horse, +gathered up her habit, and entered the doorway of the building. + +Seating herself in the lift, she was borne upwards, and a few seconds +later stepped out upon the second floor, and, going briskly forward, +pressed the bell of Clodagh's hall door. + +The summons was answered by the same maid who had admitted Clodagh on +the day of her arrival; and seeing the visitor, she drew back +instantly, throwing the door wide. + +"Is Mrs. Milbanke up, Barkes?" Lady Frances asked. "I did not see her +in the park this morning." + +"Mrs. Milbanke didn't ride this morning, my lady. She is having +breakfast in her own room. Shall I say your ladyship is here?" + +Lady Frances replied by walking into the hall. + +"No, thanks! I'll announce myself." + +Stepping forward without ceremony she passed down the hall and opened +the door of Clodagh's bedroom. But on the threshold she paused, +interested by what she saw. + +The two windows that looked upon the park were wide open, and through +them the beautiful warm sunshine was pouring across the room, touching +the old French furniture into a renewal of its glories. Drawn into the +full radiance of this light, stood a small round table set with silver, +china, and a bowl of flowers; and at the table sat Clodagh. She was +wearing a simple dress of black muslin, and her hair--which gleamed +almost bronze in the clear, strong sunshine--was twisted into one thick +coil. But it was neither her dress nor appearance that attracted her +visitor; it was something vaguely disturbing--something subtly +suggestive--in her attitude, as she sat close to the table, an array of +letters and papers spread before her, a gold pencil held thoughtfully +against her lips. + +Thinking it was a servant who had entered the room, she did not change +her position with the opening of the door; and Lady Frances Hope had a +full minute in which to observe her; then, having made her deductions, +she allowed her presence to be known. + +"Can you tolerate such an early visitor?" she asked. + +Clodagh started almost guiltily, and drew the array of papers into a +confused heap; then she rose hastily, laughing to cover her momentary +confusion. + +"How you frightened me!" she said. "I must be developing nerves. But +come in! I am delighted!" + +She went forward with apparent cordiality, and, taking her visitor's +hand, kissed her. + +"How nice and energetic you look! You make me feel very lazy. I wasn't +in the mood for a ride this morning. Come in! Sit down!" + +Lady Frances responded to the suggestion by moving across the room. +Pausing by the breakfast-table, she bent forward and buried her face +for a moment in the flowers, at the same time stealing a swift glance +at the scattered letters beside Clodagh's plate. Then, straightening +herself again with apparent nonchalance, she moved to the open window +and stood looking down upon the park. + +"Clodagh!" she said suddenly. "Are you busy? Can we talk?" + +Clodagh turned sharply, and almost with a gesture of surprise. The +whole round of her intercourse with Lady Frances Hope had been of so +easy, of so superficial a nature--the whole tone of their friendship +had been pitched in so unemotional a key--since the one night in the +Paris hotel, when they had touched upon things vital to them both--that +the suggestion of reality, or even gravity, brought a sudden uneasiness +to her mind. + +"Oh, of course!" she said uncertainly--"of course! Let us sit down." + +She returned to her own seat and indicated another to her visitor with +a slightly hurried movement. + +But Lady Frances did not respond to the invitation. Instead, she +wandered back to the table, and again bent over the bowl of flowers. + +"Why are we always climbing--only to slip back again?" she asked +irrelevantly. + +Again a faint uneasiness touched Clodagh's face. + +"I thought you enjoyed climbing." + +"Not to-day. Clodagh, you'll think me a horrid nuisance, but it's about +that money----" + +She paused as she said the word, and involuntarily her quick glance +passed once more over the papers on the table. + +For a second Clodagh remained silent; then she spoke, a little +slowly--a little haltingly. + +"Oh yes--the money," she said. + +Lady Frances looked at her shrewdly. + +"Yes, you remember on Tuesday--when you borrowed that sixty pounds to +pay old Lady Shrawle--I said I could wait for everything till August." + +"Yes--oh yes!" + +"Well, I've had a horrid drop since then--yesterday, in fact." + +For a moment longer, Clodagh sat staring aimlessly at the papers in +front of her; then she raised her head and looked at her companion. Her +face was a little pale, but her eyes and lips looked almost scornfully +unconcerned. + +"Poor you!" she said easily. "What a bore! You must let me settle up +our differences at once--to-day." + +She rose and pushed back her chair. + +A look of surprise crossed the older woman's face--this time it was +surprise tempered with bewilderment. + +"To-day! But can you? I know how many little expenses----" She waved +her hand expressively towards the breakfast-table, with its many costly +adjuncts. + +Clodagh made a lofty gesture of denial; and, walking across the room, +paused beside her bureau. + +For a minute there was no sound in the room save the abrupt opening and +shutting of one or two small drawers; then Clodagh turned round again, +a cheque-book in her hand. + +"Now tell me what I owe you," she said. "I'll write you a cheque and +post-date it to July the first. Will that do? I draw my money then, you +know." + +"Perfectly. But, my dear Clodagh----" + +But again Clodagh made a gesture that seemed to relegate the matter to +a region of obscure--if not of absolutely contemptible--things. + +"Don't trouble!" she said. "Money is never worth an argument. What do I +owe?" + +During her words, her companion had sat silent--speculative and +suspicious. To her worldly mind, Clodagh's grand manner--Clodagh's +extraordinary behaviour--indicated but one possibility. She had found +means of augmenting her income! + +Any knowledge of the false pride, the empty magnificence that will, +metaphorically speaking, fling its last coin to a beggar, while passing +on to penury, had never come within her experience. It needs the +environments of such places as Orristown to bring them to maturity. She +looked now at her companion, and her eyes narrowed in a sudden, +triumphant satisfaction. Something that she had anticipated had come to +pass! At the imagined discovery, she gave a quick laugh. + +"If you insist on being so scrupulous----" + +Clodagh looked round from the bureau at which she had seated herself. + +"How much?" she said laconically. + +Lady Frances pretended to knit her brows. + +"Well, there was the eight hundred pounds at Nice--and the forty pounds +the night of your return to town--the night we played bridge with Val +and Deerehurst----" + +She looked very quickly at Clodagh. + +But Clodagh gave no sign. "And the fifty pounds a fortnight +ago--besides the sixty for Lady Shrawle," she interrupted. + +"Yes--oh yes! Let me see, that makes----" + +"Nine hundred and fifty pounds," Clodagh interjected in a very quiet +voice; and picking up a pen, she wrote out the cheque, signing it with +her usual bold signature. A moment later she rose, blotted it, and held +it out. + +As the flimsy slip of paper passed from one to the other, the elder +woman permitted a gleam of curiosity to show in her eyes. + +"A thousand thanks!" she exclaimed. "And don't think me a wretch if I +run away now that I've got it. You know how fidgety my bay mare is. +Well, good-bye! I shall see you at Ranelagh?" + +But Clodagh was absently studying her cheque-book. + +"I don't think so," she said. "Lord Deerehurst offered to take me down, +but I shan't go. I--I have some business to attend to." + +Lady Frances laughed; picked up her riding whip, which she had laid +aside, and, coming forward, kissed Clodagh. + +"Then I expect I shall see you. Deerehurst is much more insistent than +any business." Once again her shrewd glance travelled over Clodagh's +face. "Good-bye! In any case, you'll be at the Ord's for bridge +to-night? We can arrange then about going down to Tuffnell." + +"Yes"--Clodagh returned the pressure of her hand--"yes; I suppose I +shall go to the Ord's. Yes; I shall--good-bye!" + +She walked with her visitor to the door of the bedroom, and stood +waiting on the threshold until the hall door had closed. Then, almost +mechanically, she turned, walked back to the table, and with a sharp, +nervous movement gathered up the heap of papers still lying beside her +plate. + +As she stood there, in the flood of June sunshine, beside the +attractive disarray of the pretty breakfast-table, she was aware of a +horrible sense of helplessness, of alarm and impotence. For the papers +she held between her hands were bills--a sheaf of bills--all unpaid and +all pressing. + +As she stood there, a swift review of the past months sped before her +mind, carrying something like dismay in its train. + +In April she had entered upon the tenancy of her furnished flat, having +already borrowed eight hundred pounds from her friend and counsellor, +Lady Frances Hope; and under the auspices of this same counsellor, had +began her career as a woman of fashion. + +In social circles the period and the conditions of mourning become more +slender every season. And nowadays, although a widow may not attend +dances or large dinner-parties, there are a hundred smaller, more +exclusive--and possibly more expensive--forms of entertainment at which +she may appear in her own intimate set. Very quiet dinners--very small +luncheon parties--even friendly bridge parties--are quite permissible, +when it is a tacitly accepted fact that the mourner is, by a natural +law, barely entering upon her life--that the one mourned has departed +from it by an equally natural dispensation. + +Under these conditions Clodagh had begun her London career; and for +more than a month she had lived--in the most costly sense of the word. +Her mourning had been the most distinguished that a famous dressmaker +could devise; her electric brougham had possessed all the newest +improvements; the flowers that filled her room had been supplied by a +fashionable florist at an exorbitant cost. In a word, she had behaved +like a child who has been given a pocketful of bright new pennies--and +believes them to be golden coins. + +Once or twice in the course of those extravagant weeks, a pang of +misgiving had crossed her soul; but it had only been a pang of the +moment. + +The phantom of tradesmen's bills is one so easily dismissed from the +Irish mind that, unless it materialises very forcibly, it may almost be +considered non-existent. + +On July the first she was to receive her half-yearly allowance; and +towards July the first she looked with an almost superstitious +confidence. A thousand pounds! It was sufficient to settle a planetful +of debts; and if any remained as satellites to the planet, well--there +was the first of January. + +But now her confidence had been rudely shaken. In a sudden moment of +pride--of bravado--she had signed away almost the whole of the +anticipated half-yearly income. She stood possessed of fifty pounds, +with which to dress, to eat, to exist from July to January; and in her +hands was the sheaf of unpaid bills! + +There is no race of people that undertakes liabilities so lightly, and +that is so overwhelmed when retribution falls upon it, as the Irish +race. As Clodagh gradually faced her position, panic seized upon her. +For weeks she had lived upon the credit that the London tradesman gives +to customers who come provided with good references; and now suddenly +she had realised--first by the arrival of certain bills couched in a +new and imperative strain; later by Lady Frances Hope's unexpected +demand for her money--that English credit is not the lax, indefinite +credit of such places as Muskeere and Carrigmore: that it is a credit +demanding--insisting upon--timely payment. + +And where was she to turn--where look--for the necessary funds? + +In a dazed way she thought of David Barnard, who had returned a month +previously from a holiday in Spain; but her pride made her shrink +sensitively from the thought of the suave indulgence with which he +would listen to her confession of folly. Once the thought of recalling +Lady Frances Hope, and explaining the position to her, sped through her +mind; but she dismissed it as swiftly as it came. In restless +perturbation she turned and walked across the room, pausing once more +beside the bureau, which stood in a recess between the windows. + +Where could she turn, where look, for the money that would tide over +her difficulties? In her mental distraction, she laid aside the bills +she was still holding, and aimlessly picked up a half-dozen opened +letters that lay awaiting answers. A couple of invitations to lunch; an +invitation to play bridge; the offer of a box at the opera; Laurence +Asshlin's monthly report from Orristown; Nance's last letter from +America. + +With a vague preoccupation she raised the last of these and looked at +it. + +How free and unhampered Nance seemed in her inexperience of life! She +looked unseeingly at the closely written lines, her mind in a harassed +way contrasting her own and her sister's fate. Then quite suddenly she +dropped the letter and lifted her head. + +A thought had struck her. As a flash of lightning might rend a night +sky, an inspiration had illuminated the darkness of her mind. The +thousand pounds which was to be Nance's property when she came of age, +or upon her engagement, still lay to her own credit--in her own +name--in the bank with which Milbanke had done business. + +It is extraordinary how rapidly a thought can mature in a receptive +mind. In one moment, as Clodagh stood beside the bureau, all the +possibilities comprised in that thousand pounds broke upon her +understanding. + +How if she withdrew it as a loan? No one--not even Nance herself--need +know; and she could refund it within six months, or within a year--long +before the thought of marriage could enter the child's mind. + +Then suddenly she paused in her mental calculations; and a new +expression passed over her face. Was it right, was it honourable, to +make use of this money left in her safe-keeping? + +Uneasy and distressed, she turned to the open window, as though a study +of the life beyond her own might help her in her dilemma. The scene she +looked upon was interesting and even beautiful. The grass of the park +still retained something of its first greenness; in the distance the +clustering bower of chestnuts and copper beeches suggested something +far removed from the traffic and toil of the great town; while below +the window, under a canopy of leaves, the morning procession of horses +and carriages passed incessantly to and fro. + +What a curious world it was! How conventional and obvious, and yet in +reality how inscrutable! What would it say of her, did it know her true +position? What comfort--what aid--would it offer? Involuntarily, almost +curiously, she laid her finger-tips upon the window-sill and bent +slightly forward. Then, very suddenly, she drew back into the room, her +face flushing. + +Lord Deerehurst, mounted upon a high black horse, had passed the window +at the moment that she had looked out; and raising his head, had seen +and bowed to her. + +The incident was slight; but at certain moments the Celtic nature is +extraordinarily--even mysteriously--open to suggestion. Clodagh could +not have defined her thought; but the thought was there, a vague, +half-fearful, wholly instinctive thought that suddenly prompted her to +shield herself, to ward off the nearer approach to this world that she +had leant from her window to study impersonally; and from which she had +received so peculiarly personal a response. + +She continued to stand for a moment longer in an attitude of doubt; +then, swiftly, almost abruptly, she turned round to the bureau and, +kneeling down before it, reopened her cheque-book with tremulous hands +and wrote out a cheque for one thousand pounds, payable to herself. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The habit of self-deception had become as a cloak in which Clodagh +wrapped herself. She desired happiness: therefore she told herself that +she was happy; she instinctively wished to live honourably: therefore, +through her own persuasion, she believed her actions to be honourable. +And under this insidiously sheltering garment, her appropriation of her +sister's money was securely hidden away. To her own thinking--once the +first misgiving had been buried--there was no real wrong, no real +dishonour, in the taking of the thousand pounds. She needed it +temporarily, and would, in due time, repay it with interest. The fact +that she did not think it necessary to inform Nance of what she had +done, certainly weakens the case for her defence; but had she come to +be judged from some impersonal source, it is quite possible she would +have made as subtle and specious a justification of her conduct as that +which she offered to herself. In this light, the act stood recorded in +her own conscience. She needed the money; she took the money; and +having taken it, she set about banishing the recollection of it from +her mind. + +For three days after she had signed the cheque, she retired into +semi-privacy. She was at home to no one; and although she continued to +ride each morning and drive each afternoon in the park, she did so with +so cold a demeanour that none of her friends had dared to accost her! +For three nights she stayed indoors alone; but on the fourth, the +insurmountable restlessness that settles so frequently upon the +high-spirited woman devoid of home ties, seized on her remorselessly. +The thought of further solitude became unendurable--the idea of another +lonely evening something not to be borne. At eight o'clock she rose +from her solitary dinner, tingling in every nerve for some +companionship; and telephoning to Curzon Street, ascertained that Lady +Frances Hope was at home and willing to see her. And a quarter of an +hour later she stepped from her brougham at the door of the familiar +house. + +She was informed that Lady Frances was in her own room, preparing to go +out, but would be glad to see her if she would come upstairs. She +acquiesced quickly; and before the servant could conduct her down the +hall, had brushed past him and begun to run up the stairs. + +Opening the door of her friend's bedroom, she paused on the threshold, +and gave a little exclamation of admiration. Lady Frances Hope was +standing before a long mirror, while the maid Rees knelt upon the +ground beside her, giving the finishing touches to the skirt of a +strikingly beautiful dress. + +Clodagh clasped her hands in a gesture of delight; then ran forward +into the room. + +"How splendid you look!" she cried. "Where are you going? What a +heavenly dress!" + +Lady Frances smiled. + +"At last!" she exclaimed, holding out her cheek to be kissed. "What +have you been doing with yourself? I have been persecuted with +inquiries for you." + +Clodagh laughed excitedly. + +"I have been paying bills!" she said in a high, light voice. + +"So that you may begin to run up new ones?" + +"Quite possibly! But where are you going? All this magnificence makes +me curious." She sank into a low chair and glanced with bright, +interested eyes at her stately companion. + +But Lady Frances ignored her question. + +"We shall soon be finished with all vain glories!" she said. "The +season is dying--even if it's dying hard. Do you pine for the country, +now that the heat has come? I shall expect you to love Tuffnell, you +know. It really is quaint! Even I am fond of it." + +Clodagh looked up eagerly. + +"Of course I shall love Tuffnell. It has been sweet of your sister to +ask me there--but it has been sweeter still of her to ask Nance. You +don't know what it will be for me to meet Nance down there--away from +everything." Her voice fell a little. + +Lady Frances laughed pleasantly. + +"I am so glad you have arranged that she should come right on from +Liverpool, instead of staying in town for a night," she said easily. +"It will be much the simpler plan. By the way, what day will we arrange +to go down? You and I, I mean? Diana's big dance is on the fifth. +Suppose we go down a day or two before?" + +Clodagh responded instantly. + +"Yes," she said--"yes, certainly. But talking of the dance reminds me +of my curiosity. Where _are_ you going to-night?" + +This time evasion was impossible. Lady Frances turned to the +dressing-table and picked up a diamond ornament. + +"You can fix this in, Rees," she said, "and then go. I am going to the +Tamperleighs'," she added carelessly, without looking at Clodagh. + +"The Tamperleighs'?" + +"In Grosvenor Place. Dull people." + +Clodagh picked up a fan that was lying on a table near her, and +examined it thoughtfully. + +"Isn't Lady Tamperleigh an aunt of Sir Walter Gore's?" + +"Yes; and old Lord Tamperleigh is a cousin of my mother's--which +connects Walter and me in a roundabout way." + +There was a slight silence, while Rees hovered about her mistress with +one or two last attentions and then quietly left the room. As she +closed the door, Clodagh looked up from the fan she had been studying +so attentively. + +"Lady Frances," she said quickly, "you know Lady Tamperleigh very +well?" + +Lady Frances' eyes became vigilant. + +"Yes," she said vaguely--"oh, yes!" + +"Then take me with you to her party--as you took me to the Hensleys' +and the Vibrants' last week? I'm wild to go somewhere--to go anywhere +to-night." She paused excitedly; then, as her eyes scanned Lady +Frances's face, her expression fell. + +"Of course if there's the least--the very least--difficulty----" + +With a swift, tactful movement, Lady Frances came towards her. + +"My dear Clodagh! Don't! You _know_ how proud I am of you. My +hesitation was merely----" + +"Merely what?" + +Lady Frances laid her hand upon Clodagh's shoulder. + +"Walter came back from Russia a week ago. He will be there to-night; +and I think--I think"--she seemed to hesitate--"I think that perhaps, +in view of his narrow ideas, it might be pleasanter for you----" She +left the sentence expressively unfinished. + +Clodagh rose rather hastily, her face red. + +"Of course!" she said--"of course! Sir Walter Gore is the last man in +London I should wish to meet." + +Lady Frances said nothing, but moving calmly across the room, took her +cloak from a chair. + +"Where can I drop you?" she asked. "At the club?" + +For a second Clodagh stood, staring with very bright eyes at an open +window, across which a lace curtain hung motionless in the still, hot +air; then she lifted her head and, in her own turn, crossed the room. + +"Yes," she said quietly--"yes, at the club." + + +Not many days later, Clodagh--in company with Lady Frances Hope--left +London for Buckinghamshire, on her promised visit to the latter's +sister--Lady Diana Tuffnell. + +The house party at Tuffnell Place was to include--beside one or two men +and women of personal distinction--a small section of Lady Frances +Hope's coterie from the merely fashionable world, comprising Lord +Deerehurst, Serracauld, and Mrs. Bathurst. For although Lady Diana +Tuffnell was very uncompromising in the choice of her own friends, she +had always been a complacent sister; and Tuffnell Place generally +opened its doors during the month of July to Lady Frances Hope and her +intimates. + +It was late in the evening when Clodagh arrived; and the old +Elizabethan house, with its many windows of thick, small-paned glass +and its fine oak-raftered hall, filled her with delight. After she had +been greeted by Lady Diana, and introduced to Mr. Tuffnell--a typical, +kindly English squire, who invariably went his own way straightly and +was content to assume that others did the same--she passed up the +shallow staircase and entered the room that had been allotted to her, +with a sense of something nearer to happiness than she had known for +months. In the whole air of the house and its inmates there was a +suggestion of restfulness, of friendliness, of sincerity to which she +had been long a stranger. Unconsciously she warmed and softened under +the homelike atmosphere. And when, a quarter of an hour later, +Simonetta came softly into the bright, chintz-hung bedroom, she found +her mistress busily unpacking her writing-case and sorting her letters +at an old-fashioned oak writing-table. + +That night the two visitors--who had preceded the other members of the +house party by a day--dined alone with their host and hostess. + +They were a very small party for the great dining-hall; but Clodagh was +conscious that at many a crowded restaurant she would have been less +well amused. There was a feeling of sincerity in the atmosphere, an +honest desire on the part of the entertainers to put their guest at her +ease, that precluded dulness and artificiality. + +After dinner, Lady Frances wandered off to the billiard-room with her +brother-in-law, and Clodagh followed her hostess into the +drawing-room--a long, tapestried room full of the scent of roses. + +The lamps were lighting when they entered; but the windows were set +wide open, admitting the fragrance of the garden. Involuntarily Clodagh +crossed the room, and paused beside one of these broad windows. + +A moment later her hostess followed her. + +"Well, Mrs. Milbanke," she said, "what do you think of England? Isn't +it a place to be happy in?" She spoke with something of the strength +and domination of her sister; but it was a softened strength, as her +face, although possessing the same bold outline as Lady Frances's, was +softer, gentler, more sympathetic. + +Clodagh turned and looked at her. + +"I think it is a place to be _content_ in," she said after a moment's +pause. + +Lady Diana Tuirnell's glance rested upon her interestedly. And, as the +thought of her youth and her mourning rose to her mind, something like +pity touched her face. + +"You are very right!" she said. "We women make a great mistake in +dissociating happiness and contentment. There is too much struggle in +many of our lives, and too little peace. Frances, for instance! Her +life is one restless race after something that is unattainable!" + +"But Lady Frances is happy! She likes struggling!" + +Lady Diana smiled. + +"She thinks she does. But the truly contented woman does not need to +persuade herself that she is satisfied. Happiness is a fact, not an +attainment." With a quiet, kindly movement she turned aside and picked +up two photographs that stood upon a side-table. + +"Mrs. Milbanke, this is the happiness that comes--and stays. The +happiness that needs no expounding." She held out the photographs. + +Clodagh took them and looked at them. One was the picture of her host; +the other the photograph of three plain-looking, honest-eyed boys, who +each possessed in an almost ridiculous degree their mother's outline of +feature. She looked at them intently for a long time; then she handed +them back. + +"Thank you!" she said almost inaudibly. Then, moved by a sudden +thought, she looked up into Lady Diana's face. + +"Lady Diana," she said, "I want you to like my little sister! Will you +like her? I don't want her to be one of the struggling women----" Then +she paused suddenly, as the drawing-room door opened and Lady Frances +Hope entered, followed by her brother-in-law. + +At the sound of the opening door, Lady Diana gave her a quick smile of +sympathy and understanding; and turned to greet the new-comers. + +"What, Frances!" she exclaimed laughingly, as she caught sight of her +sister's face. "Has George been beating you?" + +Lady Frances came forward frowning. + +"How ridiculous you are, Di! Your mind never soars above George." Then, +realising that her annoyance had carried her away, she gave a short +laugh and suddenly recovered her composure. + +"I am angry because our game was spoiled. I was making a really +excellent break, when we were interrupted by a stupid telegram from +Walter Gore." + +Almost abruptly, Clodagh turned back to the open window, conscious that +her face and ears were suddenly burning and that her heart had given a +great unsteady throb. + +Lady Diana looked quickly from her sister to her husband. + +"From Walter?" she said in surprise. + +"Yes, from Walter." George Tuffnell came forward with an open telegram +in his hand. "Listen to this! 'Back from Russia. Town insufferably hot. +Gore Bridges in tradesmen's hands. No plans for immediate week. Can you +put me up from to-morrow?--WALTER GORE.' Luck, isn't it! Why, we +haven't seen him for a year. Dear old Walter!" Tuffnell's good-natured +face beamed with hospitable enthusiasm. "What do you say, Di?" he +added. "Of course we can manage it?" + +"Of course! Why, it will make our party complete." Lady Diana glanced +at her sister. But, to her surprise, there was no response in Lady +Frances's expression. + +With a movement of sudden decision, she had stepped forward. + +"Di, wait a moment!" she said. "You know Walter and Val Serracauld +never hit it off--and Walter and Deerehurst detest each other. Do you +think it would be wise?" + +Lady Diana looked perplexed. + +"It is a little difficult," she said. "But we cannot refuse Walter." +She looked at her husband. + +George Tuffnell responded with a laugh. + +"Refuse Walter! Why, I'd as soon refuse to have the boys home for the +holidays! The house is big enough for everybody! What do you say, Mrs. +Milbanke?" + +Clodagh turned from the open window. From being red, her face was now +very pale. + +"I," she stammered--"I----" + +Again Tuffnell laughed good-naturedly. + +"Certainly! Don't you think, Di, that Mrs. Milbanke could give us an +expert opinion on the management of man?" + +Clodagh laughed unsteadily. Then, all at once, her mental balance was +shaken by a wave of feeling. The thought of Gore--the remembrance of +Gore--rose like tangible things, blotting out all else. She lifted her +eyes to her host's. + +"I agree with you," she swiftly said. "I should say that--that the +house is big enough." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The remaining hours of that night passed like a dream for Clodagh. +Condemn herself as she might for the weakness, there was no subduing +the tumultuous excitement kindled by the thought that she was to see +Gore again. + +It was not to be denied that time, intervening incidents, and a +sub-conscious personal desire had blunted the first resentment that +Lady Frances Hope's disclosures had engendered. In the reckless pursuit +of excitement that had marked the past three months, she had imagined +him banished from her mind; but now, at the knowledge of his promised +advent, she realised that it had only been an imagination; that, +despite everything, his place in her mind had never been usurped. + +When at last she fell asleep, long after midnight, her thoughts were +strange, exciting, almost happy; and when next morning the entrance of +Simonetta roused her to consciousness, it was with something like +hopefulness and anticipation that she turned her eyes to the open +window, through which the clear country sunlight was breaking between +the gay chintz curtains. + +With a quick, eager wakefulness she sat up in bed and pushed back her +loosened hair. A feeling, long forgotten, was stirring in her +heart--the vague, delicious hope of future things that had been wont to +thrill her long ago, when she rode her father's horses along the strand +at Orristown in the untarnished dawn of an Irish day. + +During the process of dressing, this sense of anticipation grew; and +with it came a spontaneous wish for action. She became imbued with the +same desire for light and air and freedom that had possessed her on the +day in Florence when she had gazed out upon the distant hills from the +window of the villa. + +Something of her eager energy was shining in her eyes, as she descended +the stairs and entered the sunny morning-room, where breakfast was +always served when the party at Tufnell was small. + +Lady Diana and her husband were already in the room, glancing through +their morning letters, the former wearing a plain linen dress, the +latter an old shooting suit that had seen much service. At the moment +that she opened the door, Lady Diana was reading aloud from the letter +in her hand, while George Tuffnell was laughing with enormous +amusement. They made a very homely, pleasant picture of contented, +successful married life. + +Seeing their guest, they both came forward cordially, and George +Tuffnell smiled warm-heartedly as he took her hand. + +"Well, Mrs. Milbanke, and what is Tuffnell like in daylight? Isn't it +worth a hundred Londons? Haven't you got an appetite for breakfast?" + +Lady Diana laughed, as she led Clodagh to the table. + +"George is a horrible egoist," she said cheerfully. "He thinks the only +things in the world worthy of consideration are Tuffnell--and the +Tuffnells." + +Clodagh smiled as she took her seat. + +"He is very much justified," she said softly. Then she glanced round +the table. "But where's Lady Frances?" + +Her hostess smiled. + +"Breakfasting in bed. I knocked at her door at seven to ask whether she +would care for a canter before breakfast, or whether she would like to +walk over to the home farm with George, but she literally drove me +away. She's out of sorts to-day. Poor Frances!" + +"Oh, I am sorry!" Clodagh looked distressed. "Just to-day, when +everybody's coming!" + +George Tuffnell turned to her with his habitual bluff kindliness. + +"Don't trouble, Mrs. Milbanke!" he said. "She'll be all right by the +afternoon. It's the mornings that Society plays the deuce with. Look at +Di! Look what a country life has done for her!" + +Clodagh looked almost shyly at her hostess's straight shoulders and +healthy, happy face. + +"Don't make me more envious than I am!" she said gently. "Lady Diana +has everything." + +With a sympathetic gesture, Lady Diana extended her hand, and touched +hers lightly. + +"My dear," she said, "you have no reason to repine. And Tuffnell is to +bring you enjoyment, not regret. What amusement can we plan for the +morning, George?" + +George Tuffnell looked up from the omelette to which he was helping +himself. + +"What would Mrs. Milbanke like? You may do anything you like here, Mrs. +Milbanke--except be unhappy." + +Clodagh smiled brightly. + +"Anything?" + +"Anything--in wisdom." + +She hesitated for a moment, looking down at her plate; then, with a +quick, winning movement, she lifted her head, glancing from one of her +entertainers to the other. + +"Then give me a horse," she said quickly, "and let me ride by myself +till lunch time." + +Lady Diana looked distressed. + +"What, alone?" she asked. + +But her husband laughed cheerily. + +"Why not--if she wishes? Tuffnell is Liberty Hall, Mrs. Milbanke. You +shall have the best horse in the stables." + +Lady Diana smiled indulgently. + +"I hope we are doing right! Four hours by oneself in the saddle is +rather a lonely thing." + +"Oh, but I won't be alone!" Clodagh cried. "A good horse is the best +company in the world." + +At the conclusion of breakfast, she rose to go upstairs and change into +her habit. As she passed her hostess, she paused. + +"Shall I run in and see Lady Frances?" she asked. + +Lady Diana looked up at her. + +"I think not. Frances called through the door this morning that no one +was to go near her before twelve o'clock. I'd wait till then, if I were +you." + +And Clodagh nodded comprehendingly and left the room. + +Half an hour later, she rode down a long avenue of chestnuts, mounted +on a splendid bay horse of Lady Diana's, and emerged upon the road that +skirted the park wall. + +Tuffnell Place was situated in one of the richest corners of +Buckinghamshire; and as she drew rein for a moment outside the large +gates and surveyed the surrounding country, it seemed to her that, as +far as the eye could reach, the land stretched away in one great tract +of prosperous, well-tilled fields and sweeping meadow-land, broken by +high hedges and low wooded hills. + +The day was one to revel in; the scene one to bring complete repose. +And as she gathered up her reins and allowed the bay horse to sweep +down the gently sloping road into this land of plenty, she permitted +the atmosphere to take full possession of her. For the moment, the +thought of London, of her fellow-beings, even of herself, fell away +from her conscious consideration; and she dreamed--as an Irishwoman can +always dream--with her eyes open and her senses alert to her horse's +slightest movement; yet wrapped in a world of her own, created from the +warm blue haze of summer that lay over the rich country--from the +summer sun that warmed her blood--from the close, instinctive +comprehension of nature, that no artificiality has power to eradicate. + +It was more than three hours later when she rode back to the gates of +Tuffnell, having covered many miles of country, and revelled for a long +delicious stretch of time in her own musings. The air and the hot sun +had warmed her face to a splendid healthy colour, her lips were parted +eagerly, and across her saddle she was carrying a spray of honeysuckle, +plucked from the tall hedgerows. Her mood was generous, pliable, +brimming with high impulses; if, in that moment, one loving hand had +been stretched forth to hers--one honest soul come out of the sunlight +to meet her own, many things might have been different. But the moment +came--and the moment passed. + +Riding quickly up the avenue, she drew rein at the hall door; and at +the same instant Lady Frances Hope crossed the wide sunny hall. + +Clodagh saw her at once, and a shade of disappointment touched her +face. Lady Frances was so intensely suggestive of the world she had +been trying to forget. Her impulses of a minute ago shrank +instinctively; the habit of indifference came back to her by +suggestion. She suddenly felt ashamed of her sunburned face and of the +spray of honeysuckle. + +But Lady Frances came forward to the hall door, and at the same moment +a groom hurried round from the stables. + +Clodagh slipped easily from her horse; took her flowers from the +saddle; and then turned to greet her friend. + +"How are you?" she said. "I was so sorry not to have seen you this +morning. I have had a glorious ride." + +Lady Frances did not respond to the words with her habitual smile. And, +on closer scrutiny, Clodagh observed that, despite a very careful +toilet, she looked tired and annoyed. + +"You've been away an age," she said irritably. "It's after twelve." + +"Then perhaps I'd better change. The coach is to be back from the +station at half-past twelve." + +"No. Never mind! Diana isn't conventional. You can meet the people--and +lunch too--in your habit. I want to talk to you." + +Clodagh's eyes opened. It was new to find Lady Frances's manner either +hasty or perturbed. + +"To me? What about?" + +The other hesitated for a moment, then looked straight at her +companion. + +"About Walter Gore." + +The onslaught was so sudden that Clodagh had no time to guard her +feelings. She flushed--a deep, painful flush, that spread over her +cheeks, her ears, her forehead. + +Lady Frances looked at her mercilessly. + +"I have been worrying so about his coming--worrying so about you." + +"About me?" + +Clodagh said the words consciously and uncomfortably. + +"Yes. I feel so much for you--you, who are so sensitive. Clodagh!"--she +laid her fingers lightly on Clodagh's arm--"Clodagh! I am your best +friend. You believe that?" + +"You--you have always been very good to me." + +"And always _shall_ be good to you. Look here!" Her voice suddenly took +on the tone of seeming frankness that is the clever woman's best +weapon. "I'm enormously fond of you--enormously fond of you. I should +hate to see you hurt or--or----" + +She paused judiciously. + +"But who would hurt me? Why should I be hurt?" + +"You _shouldn't_ be, of course. But sometimes circumstances--chances +--people--hurt one. Oh, my dear girl, I'm unhappy at this unlucky +coming of Walter's. It's hard--it's really hard--on you." + +As the words were uttered, it seemed to Clodagh that a faint cold wind +blew from some unseen quarter, chilling the summer warmth--chilling her +own happiness. + +"Why--why hard on me?" she asked. + +"Dear child!" Lady Frances's tone was deep and kind. "Do you remember +the night in town when you asked me to take you to the Tamperleigh's +party?" + +"Yes. I remember." + +"You remember why I refused?" + +"Yes, I remember." + +"But you did not know my full reason for refusing. I had met Walter a +day or two before. We had discussed you." + +"And what had Sir Walter Gore to say of me?" + +"He said--oh, dear child, don't ask me to be too literal." + +"But I do." + +Clodagh freed her arm. + +"Is it worth while? I tried to keep you two apart while I could. Now +that it has become impossible----" + +"But why should we be kept apart? What have I done?" + +"Dear Clodagh! you know Walter--you know how entirely he +disapproves----" + +"Disapproves!--disapproves! What right has Sir Walter Gore to +disapprove of me?--to criticise--to speak of me?" + +Her voice shook, not--as she herself imagined--with outraged pride, but +with uncontrollable disappointment and pain. + +"Oh, I resent it!" she cried--"I resent it!" + +Then suddenly she paused, turning to her companion with an almost +frightened gesture. Up the long avenue came the sound of wheels and the +rapid clatter of many hoofs. + +Lady Frances put out her hand again, and touched Clodagh's wrist. + +"Here they are!" she said. "I am glad to see your courage. I admire +it." + +As she had intended, the sharp concise words braced her companion. She +stood for an instant longer in an attitude of nervous panic; then +suddenly she threw up her head with a touch of the boyish spirit that +had marked her long ago. + +"I--I am not a coward, Lady Frances!" she said. + +Side by side they waited, while the big yellow coach, piloted by George +Tuffnell, swung round the bend of the drive. And as Clodagh stood +there, watching the great vehicle sweep round to the hall door, her +face became pale and her fingers closed tightly round the handle of her +riding crop. It was her world--her world in miniature--that swayed +towards her, while she impotently waited its approach! + +On the box, beside George Tuffnell, sat Mrs. Bathurst, radiant in +summer garments; behind were Deerehurst, Serracauld, Gore, and a +middle-aged man who was unknown to her. As her eyes passed from one +face to another, Tuffnell drew the horses up with great dexterity; the +servants sprang to the ground; and Lady Diana came hospitably forward +from the recesses of the hall. + +The first guest to descend from the coach was Serracauld. Reaching the +ground, he paused for a second to brush some dust from his light +flannel suit; then he came forward to his hostess. + +"How d'you do, Lady Diana!--and Lady Frances!" + +He shook hands with both; then he turned to Clodagh with rather more +impressiveness. + +"How tremendously fit you look!" he said. + +Before she could answer, Deerehurst joined them, calmly taking her hand +as though it were his right. + +"Well,--Circe!" he said below his breath. "We have followed!" + +Clodagh turned her eyes hastily, almost nervously, from Serracauld's +attentive face to the cold features of the older man. + +"I--I should feel very flattered," she said lightly. + +Her eyes were on Deerehurst's, her hand was in his, but her mind was +poignantly conscious of Gore's figure standing close behind her--of +Gore's voice exchanging grettings with Lady Diana Tuffnell. + +A moment later, she knew that he had turned and had seen the tableau +made by the old peer, Serracauld, and herself. + +"How d'you do, Mrs. Milbanke? It is a long time since we have met." + +It was not until he had directly addressed her, not until she had +turned and met his glance, that Clodagh realised how deeply, how +peculiarly he had influenced her. She drew her fingers sharply from +Deerehurst's. + +"It is a long time," she said very softly. + +Gore took her hand. + +At the same moment Deerehurst laughed--his laugh of unfathomable +cynical wisdom. + +"Mrs. Milbanke was the chrysalis in those old days, Gore!" he said +lightly. "Now you see the butterfly!" + +At the laugh and the tone, Gore's expression became cold, and he +released Clodagh's hand. + +"So I have been told," he said a little stiffly. "I must congratulate +Mrs. Milbanke on her development." He gave a slightly constrained laugh +and moved back to Lady Diana's side. + +Deerehurst looked after him--a malicious, humorous look. + +"Isn't it too lenient of the prettiest lady in London to allow a young +puritan to take her to task in public?" he asked in his satirical +voice. + +Clodagh flushed; and turning, as if to answer, let the spray of +honeysuckle slip inadvertently from between her fingers. + +Instantly both Deerehurst and Serracauld stooped to recover it. The +younger man was successful; and, straightening himself quickly, wheeled +round to return it. Then his face fell; and again Deerehurst laughed. + +Without a word, Clodagh had left the little group and disappeared into +the house. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +At lunch time Clodagh sent word to Lady Diana Tuffnell that the long +ride in the morning sun had given her a headache, and that she would be +glad of a few hours' rest. + +On receipt of the message, her hostess was much concerned, and came +herself to Clodagh's bedroom door to inquire whether she could be of +any use to the sufferer; but there, she was met by Simonetta, who +conveyed the intelligence that her mistress was asleep. + +But in reality Clodagh was not sleeping--was not even lying down; she +was sitting in a low chair in the shadow of the drawn chintz curtains, +striving to solve the question of her future conduct. Would she remain +at Tuffnell and face the difficulties of her position? Would she turn +coward--and run away? + +She passed in review the incidents of the morning, until, by persistent +contemplation of them, her humiliation kindled to anger. First, anger +against herself; then, anger against the world at large; lastly, anger +against Gore. + +By the time afternoon tea was brought to her, the headache she had +feigned had become a reality; and before dinner time arrived she had +fallen into a state of miserable despondency. But scarcely had this +black mood taken possession of her, than a new and more intolerable +distress assailed her. She suddenly realised the gossip to which her +abrupt retirement might give rise. What would the house party think of +her disappearance? Would not Lady Frances Hope--if no one else--presume +that she was suffering from wounded vanity? The thought was +unendurable. No sooner did it present itself, than she sprang from her +chair in a fever of apprehension, and rang hastily for Simonetta. + +Ten minutes before the dinner hour, she emerged from her room and +passed downstairs. Faint daylight was still filling the house, but +everywhere the lamps had been lighted, and the mellow double +illumination gave a curious softening effect to the old raftered +ceilings and panelled walls. + +In the hall she was met by Lady Frances Hope, who paused and looked at +her scrutinisingly. + +"What is the matter with you?" she asked, with unusual brusqueness. +"You almost look as if you had a fever. Your eyes are glittering." + +Clodagh laughed nervously, and put one hand to her cheek. + +"Nothing is the matter." + +Lady Frances's lip curled slightly. + +"You should go to bed early." + +"Yes. Early in the morning! I feel I could sit up all night." + +"Playing bridge?" + +Again Clodagh laughed, this time a little recklessly. + +"Why not?" she asked. "Will you play to-night?" + +"Not here. George is rather a stickler--where his relations are +concerned." + +"And his guests?" + +Clodagh's question was quick and a little anxious. + +"Oh, his guests can amuse themselves as they like, of course." + +"Then I shall play to-night--if I can find any one to play with." + +Lady Frances looked over her shoulder, attracted by the sound of +voices. + +"Well, here comes Rose!" she said. "Press her into your service! She +won't refuse, if you give her Mr. Mansfeldt as a partner. The set she +has made on that man the whole afternoon is perfectly disgraceful." + +She turned with a smile to Mrs. Bathurst. + +"Ah, Rose! How nice to see you! And you are just in time. We have been +taking your name in vain." + + +Clodagh became the centre of a noisy party until dinner was announced. +And during the meal itself, the same air of inconsequent gaiety was +maintained in her regard, for she sat between Serracauld and his uncle. + +A dozen topics were touched upon during the course of the meal--the +latest sporting gossip, the latest social scandal, the latest Parisian +play, all were discussed, and all laughed over the triviality of the +world that has few prejudices, few responsibilities, fewer ideals. + +From time to time, during the easy flow of this light talk, she found +herself stealing surreptitious glances down the long table to where +Gore was seated between Lady Diana Tuffnell and her sister; but not +once did she surprise a glance from him. It seemed that he had very +successfully banished her from his mind. + +After dinner the whole party left the dining-room together, as was the +custom at Tuffnell, some to play billiards, some to stroll in the +gardens, others to find their way to the music-room, where Lady Diana +usually gathered a little audience to listen to her singing. On this +evening Clodagh was amongst the first to pass out of the dining-room; +and moving into the centre of the hall, she paused and looked +expectantly over her shoulder. + +As she had anticipated, Deerehurst appeared almost at once, and came +directly to her side. + +"What is your pleasure?" he said. "Bridge?" + +She looked up swiftly. + +"Yes, bridge," she said quickly. "I feel I must have excitement +to-night." + +He looked at her immovably. + +"As you wish," he said calmly. "I shall ask Rose Bathurst and Mansfeldt +to play." + +He turned away, and at the same moment Lady Diana came forward from a +little group that included her husband and Gore. Coming close to +Clodagh, she laid her hand kindly on her arm. + +"Well, Mrs. Milbanke," she said pleasantly, "how shall we amuse you +this evening?" + +Clodagh turned swiftly. Her nerves felt so tense and strained that even +her hostess's quiet voice set them tingling. + +"Oh, I have chosen my amusement," she said. "I want a game of bridge, +and Lord Deerehurst has gone to make up a four." + +Lady Diana's expression changed, betraying a leaven of disappointment. + +"Bridge?" she repeated. "Do you think you are quite wise? Remember your +headache!" + +Clodagh gave a short, excited laugh. + +"Ah, you are not a bridge-player, Lady Diana! If you were, you would +know that bridge is a cure for all the ills of humanity. Here comes +Lord Deerehurst with two accomplices! Fancy, it is the first time I +have met the rich Mr. Mansfeldt!" + +Lady Diana was silent. She looked once more at Clodagh--a rapid, +penetrating look that might have belonged to her sister. Then she +compelled herself to smile. + +"I hope your game will be a good one," she said graciously; and moving +quietly away, she rejoined her husband. + +Almost at the same moment Deerehurst approached, followed at some +little distance by Mrs. Bathurst and Mansfeldt--a South African +millionaire, who had recently found his way into society. + +"Rose is making the running," he remarked in a maliciously amused +whisper. "She asked me before dinner exactly what Mansfeldt is worth. +Ah, here you are, Mansfeldt!" he added aloud. "Allow me to present you +to Mrs. Milbanke! Mrs. Milbanke, will you show us the way to the +card-room? I hear you are the spoiled child of the house!" + +Clodagh bowed to Mansfeldt; and responding at once to Deerehurst's +suggestion, led the way across the hall. + +The card-room at Tuffnell was the only room in the big, rambling house +that had not preserved an air of old-world repose; here alone, the +artistic decorator had been allowed to encroach upon the handiwork of +time; and the result, although comfortable and even luxurious, was +modern and slightly bizarre. An Oriental carpet, a few divans and +coffee stools, half a dozen chairs, and three or four baize-covered +tables comprised the somewhat conventional furniture; while the walls +were covered in fabric of bright scarlet and decorated with a peculiar +and extravagant frieze representing the fifty-two cards of the pack. As +Clodagh entered, an irrepressible recollection of London--of the +clubs--the card-rooms--the smoking-rooms of London--where men and women +idle away their lives and their money, rose to her mind, banishing the +pictures of country peace that the last twelve hours had conjured. + +Pausing by one of the tables, she looked back at her three companions. + +"Let's cut for partners!" she cried quickly, picking up an unused pack +of cards. "See! I've cut a ten!" + +Mrs. Bathurst came languidly forward and raised a portion of the pack. + +"A three!" she said. "Now Mr. Mansfeldt, and Lord Deerehurst!" She +looked with graceful interest towards the men. + +Deerehurst cut a four; then the millionaire followed with a two. + +Her face flushed with pleasure. + +"How strange!" she murmured. "Do you mind having a very stupid partner, +Mr. Mansfeldt?" Her large brown eyes rested on the rich man's face, +exactly as they had rested upon Deerehurst's in the days at Venice. + +Observing and comprehending this, by the light of recent knowledge, +Clodagh gave a sharp, amused laugh. + +"I think every one is satisfied, Rose," she said. "Now, about points! +Lord Deerehurst, what points?" + +Deerehurst bowed complacently. + +"What you like, partner! Our usual forty shillings a hundred?" + +"Or twenty shillings a hundred?" suggested Mrs. Bathurst with a +deprecating smile at Mansfeldt. + +Again Clodagh laughed. + +"You are getting very modest, Rose! Do you remember the last time we +were opponents at bridge? But I won't tell tales out of school!" + +Mrs. Bathurst looked annoyed. + +"Would it be quite wise----?" she asked sharply. + +But Deerehurst intervened. + +"Well," he said, "shall we decide on forty-shilling points? Mr. +Mansfeldt, do you agree?" + +Mansfeldt, who was an intensely reserved and silent man, looked up +unemotionally. + +"I am in your hands," he said; and following the example already set by +Clodagh and Mrs. Bathurst, he seated himself at the card-table. + +"Very well! Forty-shilling points." Deerehurst also seated himself, and +began to collect the scattered cards. + +But with a swift gesture, Clodagh leant across the table and placed a +detaining hand over his. + +"Wait!" she said. "Let's make it eighty shillings a hundred!" + +Deerehurst raised his eyebrows, and the millionaire glanced at her +curiously; while Mrs. Bathurst made a little affected exclamation of +dismay. + +"Clodagh, I couldn't! I'm horribly hard up!" + +Once again Clodagh laughed shortly. + +"Then trust to luck! You're more lucky than I am." Her voice was high, +and charged with excitement; her eyes looked hard and very bright. + +Deerehurst's cold glance rested for a moment on her face. + +"You really want excitement to-night?" he asked in a low voice. + +She threw up her head with a reckless movement. + +"Yes; I do want excitement. Rose, will you agree to eighty-shilling +points?" + +Mrs. Bathurst allowed her gaze to flutter prettily from one face to +another, until it finally rested upon Mansfeldt's. + +"Will you decide, partner!" she said in a confiding whisper. + +Mansfeldt looked at her for an instant in slight embarrassment; then he +appeared to regain his stolidity of bearing. + +"You may play," he said decisively. And a faint, indescribable smile +flitted across Mrs. Bathurst's lips, as she sank back into her chair. + +It was nearly two hours before the steady progress of their play was +interrupted by any remark not directly connected with the game; then, +at the conclusion of the second rubber, Clodagh looked across at +Deerehurst, as if obeying a sudden impulse. + +"I bring you bad luck, partner!" she said quickly. + +Mrs. Bathurst laughed. + +"Unlucky at cards, lucky in love! He won't complain, Clodagh." + +Deerehurst smiled calmly. + +"Is it well to aver that?" he said. "Look at your own score!" + +She laughed again--a laugh of complete satisfaction. + +"Ah, but I owe that to my partner's play, not to luck! Shall we lower +the points, Clodagh? You are a horrible loser." + +Clodagh's hot cheeks flushed a deeper red. + +"Lower the points! I would rather raise them. But aren't we losing +time? Deal, Mr. Mansfeldt, please!" Her excitement was obvious. Her +lips were obstinately set; and her fingers tapped the table in nervous +impatience. + +A third rubber was begun and finished; then a fourth, and a fifth; and +very gradually, as the play continued, the sounds throughout the house +became fainter and fewer. At first, the tones of Lady Diana's voice had +floated up from the music-room, and the usual hum of applause had +succeeded, to be followed in its own turn by more music. Song after +song had been sung; then had come the sound of talk and laughter, as +the party from the music-room had adjourned to the garden. But slowly +these sounds had lessened. The laughter had ceased; and the +entertainment out-of-doors had died down to the murmuring of two men's +voices and the slow pacing of a couple of pairs of feet up and down the +terrace beneath the card-room window. At last even this had ended with +the heavy shutting of a door; and, save for the occasional distant +sound of a closing window, silence reigned in the house. + +The sixth rubber was drawing to its close, when the door of the +card-room opened quietly and Lady Diana entered, looking slightly tired +and pale. + +She came forward to the table and stood looking at the players. + +"Don't stir!" she said. "I only came to see that you are all right. Who +has been lucky?" + +Mrs. Bathurst looked up self-confidently. + +"We have--enormously," she said. "Mrs. Milbanke was most daring, and +doubled our ordinary stakes. The results have been wonderful--for us." + +"Indeed!" Lady Diana's voice sounded unusually cold; and Clodagh was +conscious that her observant eyes had turned upon her. + +But she played on, without looking up. + +At last the final trick was won, the score reckoned up, and the players +rose. + +Deerehurst pushed back his chair, and looked about him speculatively. + +"It feels late!" he said. "What is the time, Lady Diana? My conscience +begins to trouble me!" + +Lady Diana smiled a little conventionally. + +"I think it is about half-past two," she answered. + +"Oh, Lady Diana, how wicked of us!" Mrs. Bathurst affected a charming +penitence. + +Mansfeldt looked genuinely uncomfortable and distressed. + +"We owe you an apology!" he said. "We have kept you from your rest." + +But Lady Diana graciously waived all apologies aside. + +"It is nothing!--nothing!" she assured them. "We are not so rustic as +all that. Lord Deerehurst, you and Mr. Mansfeldt will find George in +the smoking-room." She gave the suggestion with her usual hospitable +warmth; but the smile that accompanied the words was not the smile she +had given to Clodagh the evening before--or that morning at breakfast. + +And Clodagh, keenly sensitive to this altered bearing, stood silent, +offering no apology. At last, as though the tension of the position +compelled her to action, she held out her hand in a half-diffident, +half-defiant gesture. + +"Good-night, Lady Diana! Good-night, Rose! Good-night, Mr. Mansfeldt. +Good-night!" Last of all, her fingers touched Deerehurst's, and as his +cold hand closed over hers, he bent his head deferentially. + +"Good-night, partner! Sleep well! We will be more fortunate in the +future." + +But Clodagh gave no sign that she had even heard. Almost ungraciously, +she freed her hand; and, without glancing at any of the occupants of +the room, moved quickly to the door, and passed out into the corridor. + +Her brain seemed to burn, as she mounted the long flight of shallow +stairs that led to the bedrooms; her head ached; her senses felt +confused. She had lost money to a far greater extent than she could +possibly afford; she had alienated the friend she had so ardently +desired to make; she had acted wilfully--absurdly--wrongly. + +She opened the door of her bedroom with hasty, unsteady fingers. The +lamp on the writing-table was lighted, but the rest of the room was +dim; through the open windows came a slight breeze that stirred the +chintz curtains; in a chair by the dressing-table sat Simonetta in an +attitude of weariness. + +The sight of the woman's tired figure jarred on Clodagh's over-strained +nerves. + +"You can go, Simonetta!" she said sharply. "I'll put myself to bed." + +Simonetta started up remorsefully. + +"Pardon, signora----" she exclaimed. + +But Clodagh cut her short. + +"You can go!" she said. "Good-night!" + +The woman looked at her for a moment in doubt and reluctance; then, +instinctively realising that argument was useless, moved softly to the +door. + +"Good-night, signora!" she ventured; but as Clodagh made no response, +she departed, silently closing the door. + +Left alone, Clodagh moved aimlessly to the centre of the room, and +stood there as if seeking some object which might distract her mind. +Her glance passed vaguely over the dressing-table, laden with familiar +personal objects; then strayed to a couch, on which lay an open book +that she had made a fruitless attempt to read during the hot hours of +the afternoon; at last, attracted by the light of the lamp, it turned +to the writing-table, on which was placed the heavy leather +writing-case that had belonged to her mother, and that had remained +with her through all her wanderings since the time of her marriage. It +lay unlocked, as she had left it the evening before, the contents +protruding untidily from under the thick leather flap. Something +intimate and friendly in the shabby object appealed to and attracted +her. Without considering the action, she went slowly forward and laid +her fingers hesitatingly upon it. All the small records that +constituted memory lay side by side in this worn leather case: her +cheque-books--her letters--the few souvenirs her life had provided. + +She raised the flap lingeringly and lifted out the topmost papers. +First to her hand, came a bundle of Laurence Asshlin's monthly reports +from Orristown--boyish, spirited records of trivial doings, +ill-constructed from a literary point of view, shrewdly humorous in +their own peculiar way. These she tossed aside, as things of small +account, and turned almost hurriedly to the papers that lay immediately +beneath. They proved to be her sister's letters, dating from the time +of their parting in London, when Nance had been sent to school. For a +space she held them in her hand, while a curious expression, half +antagonistic, half tender, touched her face; then, with a little sigh, +she laid them down again, without having turned a page. + +The next object that she drew forth was the faded telegram that, years +ago, at the time of Denis Asshlin's accident, had brought the +longed-for news that Milbanke was on his way to Orristown. She opened +it, read it, then folded it and replaced it with something of uneasy +haste; and again burying her hand in the recesses of the case, brought +to light another link with the past--a large envelope into which were +crushed a number of things, amongst them the first invitation from Lady +Frances Hope in Venice; a ribbon that had tied a bouquet of flowers on +the dinner-table at the "Abbati" Restaurant; a Venetian theatre +programme; a couple of dry roses that she had worn on the night when +Gore had taken her home from the Palazzo Ugochini. Very slowly she drew +these trophies forth. Each breathed the romance of things gone by; yet +each possessed the poison of present regret. As she lifted up the +roses, her expression became suddenly pained and resentful, and with a +fierce impulse she crushed the dry, brown leaves between her fingers, +flung them from her across the room, and hurriedly lifted the next +object from the writing-case. This last was a large bundle of papers, +tied together with a black ribbon. + +Lifting it into the light, she looked at it for a long time, without +attempting to untie the string. It was the collection of her father's +scanty correspondence and ill-assorted business letters, which she had +bound together the night before her marriage--and had never since +opened. + +A curious feeling assailed her now, as she looked at these yellowing +papers, eloquent of dead days; and at the mourning ribbon, significant +of emotions keen and bitter in the living, but buried now under the +weight of newer things. How strange, how distant and impersonal, the +pages seemed! And yet the time had been when every written line had +played its part in some human, personal endeavour! Each document had +represented loss or gain to some individual; each letter had conveyed +its fragment of earthly sentiment. Moved suddenly by the suggestions of +the moment, she untied the string. + +A faint, dry odour rose from the loosened papers--the intangible scent +that indicates the past. It seemed that some world, distant and +forgotten, had suddenly put forth a shadowy hand, pointing she knew not +whither. Over her brain, fevered from the night's excitement, fell a +stillness--an arresting calm; across her thoughts, distorted by +mistaken struggles, glided a memory--a picture. She saw herself as she +had been before her marriage, in the far-off isolated days when life +had been a simple thing, when the world outside Orristown had been a +golden realm lying beyond the sunset. + +How young she had been then! How extraordinarily, indescribably young! +How untrammelled in her actions and sweeping in her judgments! As the +old existence pressed about her in a cloud of images, she opened the +first letter. But so unsteadily, so agitatedly, that, in the opening, +five or six of the pages slipped from the packet and fluttered to the +writing-table, bringing with them a small unframed ivory miniature that +had been wrapped within the sheets. + +The thin, fragile picture dropped with a faint tinkling sound; Clodagh +bent forward to recover it; then paused, leaning over the table in an +attitude of attention. The miniature lay face upwards; and, in the +strong light of the lamp, its outline and colours shone forth +distinctly. It represented the head and shoulders of a man in a scarlet +coat and hunting-stock--a man of thirty, with a handsome, defiant face, +fine eyes, and an obstinate, unreliable mouth. + +It lay, looking up into her face, while she stared back at it, as +though a ghost had risen from the faded letters. On the night before +her marriage she had come upon this miniature of Denis Asshlin; and in +a frenzy of renewed grief had thrust it out of sight amongst the papers +she had collected. Then, the picture had seemed pitifully sad in its +presentment of the dead man in the days of his strength; now, as she +looked upon it in the light of subsequent knowledge, it seemed a thing +instinct with portent and dread. + +Sharply and cruelly, the glamour cast by death receded from her memory. +She saw Asshlin as she had seen him in life--selfish, obstinate, and +yet weak. And, quick as the vision came, another followed. The vision +of her-self--of her own attitude towards her existence and her +responsibilities. + +In silent, intent concentration she gazed upon the picture, until at +last, seized by an ungovernable impulse, half-instinctive realisation, +half-superstitious dread, she caught up the lamp and walked to the +dressing-table. There, removing the coloured shade, she laid it upon +the table; and, lifting the mirror, looked fixedly at her own +reflection, intensified by the crude, strong light. + +For several minutes she stood quite motionless, her questioning eyes +searching the eyes in the glass, her pale face confronting its own +reflection. And as she looked, expressions of doubt, of fear, of +conviction chased each other across her features. + +The image that confronted her was her father's image, softened by +differences of age and sex, but fundamentally the same. The image of +one who had wasted his life--ignored his duties--squandered the +substance of those who were dependent upon him! One whom even his +children had learned to despise! + +With a sudden sensation of physical faintness she turned from the +table. For every folly of Denis Asshlin's, there sprang to her mind +some corresponding folly in her own more brilliant life. How +inefficiently she had worked out her own destiny--she who long ago had +been so rigid in her condemnation of him! + +In sudden terror she moved unsteadily across the room, and stood +leaning against the foot of the oak bedstead; then, all at once, she +made a swift, passionate gesture, and dropped to her knees. + +"O God!" she whispered wildly--"God, who made me!--I am afraid!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +At eleven o'clock on July the fourth, Nance was to arrive at Tuffnell. +Her boat reached Liverpool on the third; but it had been arranged that +she was to spend the night on board, and take an early train to +Buckinghamshire on the following morning. + +At ten o' clock Clodagh, wearing a hat and veil, and drawing on her +gloves, left her bedroom and descended the stairs. Taking advantage of +Lady Diana's arrangement that all the guests were at liberty to +breakfast in their own rooms, she had elected to avoid the family meal, +at which her instinct told her Gore would be present. After last +night's mental crisis, the idea of encountering his polite avoidance +had seemed to her intolerable. + +As she passed downstairs now, with slow and sobered steps, she half +paused as the burly figure of George Tuffnell appeared at the open hall +door; but her hesitation was not permitted to last, for instantly her +host caught sight of her, he came forward hospitably. And a new shame +woke in her, as she realised that Lady Diana Tuffnell had preserved +silence even to her husband upon the subject of last night's +incident--or at least upon her share in it. + +"Hallo, Mrs. Milbanke!" he cried cheerfully. "Has the London atmosphere +got imported with our guests? These are London hours, you know!" + +He strode up to her, followed closely by a couple of dogs, and seized +her hand cordially. + +Clodagh gave a little embarrassed laugh; and instantly stooped to +caress the dogs. + +"I feel ashamed of myself," she said hurriedly. "You and Lady Diana +must forgive me. But I was very tired last night." + +Tuffnell waived the matter good-naturedly. + +"Don't apologise! Don't mention it! But you should be thinking about +the train. I was just coming to tell you that the trap is ready, +whenever you are. It was Di's idea to give you the trap; she said you'd +hate a big conveyance that would tempt people to offer themselves as +escorts!" He laughed in his hearty, untroubled way. "One of the men +will drive you over, but you can get rid of him at the station. He'll +come back in the dog-cart with Miss Asshlin's luggage." + +Again Clodagh bent to pat the dogs. + +"How kind of Lady Diana!" she murmured. "I haven't seen my little +sister for years and years, you know." + +"You'll find her changed, I'll guarantee. Children do spring up!" He +gave a loud, contented sigh. "But shall I order the trap round? Or do +you want to see Di first?" + +"I think I'll--I'll see Lady Diana later--if it will not seem +ungracious." + +"Ungracious! Not a bit! I'll get the trap." He turned and swung across +the sunny hall, whistling to his dogs. And Clodagh, still quiet and +subdued, walked slowly after him to the door. + +No one was about when the small trap was brought round from the +stables, followed by Tuffnell and the dogs. And as Clodagh came down +the steps the two animals pressed forward with upturned, eager faces; +and the friendly appeal in their faithful eyes touched her to +remembrance of many grey and misty mornings, when Denis Asshlin's high, +old-fashioned trap would sweep round from the Orristown stable-yard, +and dogs such as these would plead passionately for a share in the +impending journey. A dry, painful sensation seemed to catch her throat. + +"May they come with me?" she asked softly. "I love animals. I had to +send my own Irish terrier home to Ireland when I gave up my house in +Italy--and nothing has ever quite taken his place. Do let them come! +They would be so good." + +The two dogs looked swiftly from her face to their master's. + +But George Tuffnell pretended to be stern. + +"No!" he said loudly--"no! Dick and Tom can't go to the station +to-day!" + +Instantly the two tails dropped. + +"Come, Myers!" he called to the groom. "Mrs. Milbanke has no time to +spare. Dick! Tom! To heel!" He winked humorously at Clodagh, as she +stepped into the trap; and a moment later the groom took his seat and +picked up the reins. + +Then suddenly he broke into a shout of genial laughter. + +"You villains!" he cried. "Off with you! Away with you!" And with a +yelp of wild delight, the dogs sped down the avenue. + +Clodagh scarcely noticed the details of that swift drive, for a nervous +sense of excitement and trepidation banished her powers of observation. +And as she stepped from the little trap and entered the small country +station, she could scarcely command a steady voice in which to ask +whether the train was yet due. + +The train proved to be over-due by three minutes, and the knowledge +brought an added qualm of apprehension. + +"What if little Nance were utterly changed? What if America had spoiled +her?" But her thoughts and fears were alike broken in upon by a long, +shrill whistle; the expected train loomed round a curve in the line, +and a moment later roared its way into the station. + +There was a second of uncertainty; then somewhere in the front of the +train a door was flung open, a small slight figure in a muslin dress +sped down the platform, and two warm arms were thrown about Clodagh's +neck, bridging in one moment the gulf of years. + +The sisters held and kissed each other, regardless of the one or two +country passengers who had alighted from the train, and the two grooms +from Tufmell who were waiting for Nance's luggage. Then at last the +younger girl drew away; and, still holding Clodagh's hand, looked at +her intently. + +"Oh, Clo!" she cried, "how lovely you are!" + +At the old name, the old candid admiration, tears rushed suddenly to +Clodagh's eyes. + +"I'm not, darling! I'm not! But you are sweet--and the same, oh, the +_very same_!" + +She laughed with a break in her voice; then, as two porters came down +the platform rolling Nance's luggage, she remembered the necessities of +the moment. + +"Is this yours?" + +"Yes; my American clothes. Do I look very American?" + +"You look sweet! Myers," she added to the groom, who had come forward, +"this is Miss Asshlin's luggage. And will you, please, go back in the +dog-cart. I want to drive the pony home." + +Myers touched his cap. + +"Very good, ma'am!" + +He turned, and passed out of the station. + +Nance pressed her sister's hand with one of her old shy laughs, that +sounded infinitely sweet from grown-up lips. + +"Clo, I can never get used to your being called 'ma'am.' Do you +remember the people at San Domenico, who would call you 'signorina,' +when poor James----?" + +She stopped abruptly, colouring at her unconsidered mention of her +brother-in-law. + +"Clo, tell me all about Tuffnell Place!" she substituted, with another +sympathetic pressure of her fingers. "Tell me about Lady Diana and Mr. +Tuffnell! I think I should hate to be plain Mister, if my wife had a +title! And all about Lady Frances Hope and Lord Deerehurst and Mr. +Serracauld! I'm dying to see all the people you put in your letters. +They're like characters in a book--and, of course, you are the heroine! + +"Oh, I'm so happy, Clo!" she cried ecstatically--"I'm so happy! Do you +care for me? Do you want me much--very much?" + +Her dark blue eyes searched Clodagh's face, as they had been wont to +search it long ago; for, beneath the pretty manner that time had taught +her, her warm, loyal nature had remained unchanged. + +And as Clodagh returned her glance, her heart suddenly sank. Until the +moment of her meeting with Nance, she had been conscious of only one +desire in her regard--the desire to fully confess to her appropriation +of the thousand pounds. For, in the lull that had followed the previous +night's crisis, she had seen this confession as the sole means of +regaining self-respect. Her other follies--her gambling and her +extravagances--offered no means of redress; but for this one personal +act of weakness she could still do penance. And now, by her very faith, +by her very love, Nance had shaken the desire. + +This spontaneous, unsuspicious admiration was the sweetest experience +that had come into her life. She involuntarily returned the pressure of +the clinging fingers, as she drew her sister through the small gate of +the station. She was glad to think that there was the drive home, the +moments of arrival and of unpacking, before any mention of personal +matters could break in upon the present calm. + +Outside the station, Nance saw the two dogs for the first time, and +insisted upon making friends with them before entering the trap. + +"Did you miss Mick dreadfully, when you sent him back to Orristown?" +she asked, when at last she took her seat. + +"Dreadfully," Clodagh answered, taking the reins from the groom. "But I +didn't know what to do with him when I left the villa. You see, I had +no real plans." + +"No; no, of course not. But you'll get him back soon?" + +"Yes; I want to." Clodagh gathered up the reins, and the pony started +forward at a swift trot. "But, do you know, Nance, I have thought of +going to Orristown in a month or so. Would you like to come to +Ireland?" + +"Like to? Oh, Clo, I have dreamt and dreamt of our being at Orristown +together--just you and me. Can you picture it? Wearing our oldest +clothes--riding and walking and sailing all day long; and making Hannah +cook us the most heavenly cakes for tea!" + +She clasped her hands rapturously, regardless of her new white gloves. + +Clodagh laughed softly and affectionately. + +"Oh, you child!" she said, almost enviously. + +How sweet and pretty and unaffected she was--this little sister who had +suddenly stepped back into her life! An overwhelmingly tender feeling +of protectiveness welled up within her--a sudden deep longing to +shelter and guard her, to hedge her round with all that is sacred and +fine. + +"Nance!" she said impulsively, "have you ever thought that I behaved +badly to you--behaved unfairly in any way?" + +"Unfairly?" + +"Yes." + +Nance laughed. + +"You're dreaming, Clo! How could _you_ behave unfairly?" + +"Suppose some one were to tell you that I had?" + +"I shouldn't believe, that's all." + +"If I were to tell you?" Clodagh's fingers tightened on the reins. + +"If you were to tell me that," Nance said, very slowly, "I think it +would spoil everything in the world. I believe so--so dreadfully in +you. But why talk about it, when it's nonsense?" She shook off the +momentary shadow that had fallen between them. "I hate 'ifs,' unless +they're very happy ones." + +So Clodagh struggled no more with her conscience during the drive along +the shady Buckinghamshire roads. Yielding to the spell of Nance's +voice, she lulled the knowledge of impending difficulties and opened +her ears to the tale of her sister's experiences--of her friends, her +acquaintances, her pleasures, her occupations--all poured forth with a +perfectly ingenuous egotism that was a refreshment and delight. + + +Though they remained together all through the morning and afternoon, +the sisters had no further opportunity of a _tete-a-tete_. Immediately +on their arrival at Tuffnell, Lady Diana had made Nance welcome and had +introduced her to her fellow-guests; and the remainder of the day had +been spent, first in tennis and croquet, later in a long coach drive, +which included a call upon some neighbours of the Tuffnells. Almost +immediately after dinner, however, Clodagh had pleaded that Nance was +tired, and had borne her off to her own room. There she dismissed +Simonetta, and, closing the door, drew forward two chairs to the open +window. + +"Now!" she said--"at last! What do you think of Tuffnell--and of +everybody?" She sank into one of the chairs with a little sigh. + +But Nance, instead of answering, tip-toed across the room; and, bending +over the back of her chair, gave her a long, impulsive kiss. + +"Darling!" she cried. "Clo! You are so lovely. I am so proud of you." + +Clodagh pressed her cheeks against the warm lips; then drew Nance round +to the side of her chair. + +"Talk to me!" she said. "Tell me whether you like Tuffnell?" + +Nance gave a little laugh of inconsequent happiness, and nestled down +at her sister's feet. + +"Tuffnell is heavenly! But there are only four nice people here." + +"Four nice people? What do you mean?" + +"What I say. There are only four nice people here--you, of course"--she +lifted one of Clodagh's hands, and pressed it against her lips--"and +Lady Diana Tuffnell--and Mr. Tuffnell--and that nice, fair man with the +sunburnt face." + +Clodagh withdrew her hand from her sister's. + +"Sir Walter Gore?" + +"Yes. Don't you think him nice?" + +"I----? Oh, I--I don't know." + +"But why? He likes you." + +Clodagh gave a quick, unsteady laugh, and sank back into her chair. + +"Dear little Nance! What a baby you are! If there is one person in the +world who does not like me, it is Sir Walter Gore!" + +With a sudden movement of interest Nance sat up, and looked at her +sister. + +"But he does, Clo," she said. "I saw him looking at you over and over +again, when you were talking to other people. He likes you. Oh, he +_does_ like you! And he doesn't care one bit for Lady Frances Hope, +though she follows him everywhere he goes----" + +But Clodagh sat suddenly upright, and with an abrupt gesture put her +hand on her sister's shoulder. + +"Nance," she said sharply, "you are talking about things that you don't +understand. Don't talk about them! It--it annoys me!" + +"But, Clo----" + +For answer Clodagh stooped and kissed her almost nervously. + +"When you are older, Nance, you will know that it is tactless to talk +of certain things to certain people. Don't talk to me again of Sir +Walter Gore. He and I have nothing to do with each other. We--we belong +to different worlds." + +Once more she bent and kissed Nance's startled, penitent face; and, +putting her gently from her, rose and walked to the window. + +For some minutes there was silence in the room; then Clodagh spoke in a +completely different voice. + +"Nance," she said, "there is something I want to tell you--something I +should have written to you, and didn't----" + +Nance, in the swift relief of her sister's altered tone, sprang to her +feet; and, running across the room, threw her arms about her. + +"And, Clo, there's something I ought to have written to you, only I was +too shy--and had to wait till I could say it like this, with my arms +round you----" + +It was Clodagh's turn to look startled. She tried to hold Nance away +from her, that she might see her face; but Nance only clung the closer. + +"Clo, you love me? Oh, say you love me!" + +"Of course I love you." + +"And you won't be vexed?" + +"Nance, what is it? You frighten me! What is it?" + +"Oh, it's nothing frightening. It's--it's about Pierce--Pierce +Estcoit----" + +The words came forth with a tremendous gasp. + +"What is it?" + +"He--Clo, he wants to marry me. You're not vexed? Oh, Clo, you're not +vexed?" + +At last Nance's arms relaxed, and she looked up beseechingly into her +sister's face. + +In sudden nervous relief and amusement, Clodagh laughed; then her face +became grave again, and she drew her sister to her with deep, impulsive +tenderness. + +"Vexed, darling?" she said--"vexed?" + +Nance kissed her ecstatically. + +"Oh, the relief of having it said!" she cried. "I have felt like a +criminal, keeping it to myself. But Pierce said I could do more with +one word than a dozen letters." + +Clodagh looked down into the pretty, eager face, and laughed again +softly, though her eyes were full of tears. + +"Pierce was right," she said. "I don't think any one could say more in +one word than you could. But do you love him, Nance? Do you love him? +That is the great, great thing. And you are so very young." A look of +keen anxiety crossed her face, and she gazed into Nance's eyes, as if +striving to read her heart. + +Nance returned her look with a steadfast gravity, curious in one so +young. + +"Next to you, Clo, he's the best person in all the world," she said. + +The tears in Clodagh's eyes brimmed over. + +"You put me first? Really, Nance? Really?" + +Nance nodded seriously. + +"And next to you, he's the very best! But, Clo"--she blushed deeply--"he +wants me to marry him soon--fearfully soon--in the autumn. He's coming +over with Mrs. Estcoit and Daisy in three weeks' time, to try to +persuade you. Clo, you're not vexed? He has promised that we shall be +together more than half every year, if you wish." + +Clodagh, touched by a pang of loneliness, turned away and gazed through +the open window across the sleeping country. + +"And you love him? You are certain that you love him?" She turned again +and laid her hands on her sister's shoulders. + +Nance's gaze, wise in its very youthfulness, met hers unflinchingly. + +"I care for him like I care for you, Clo. And I've cared for you +always." + +Clodagh drew a long breath. + +"Then I am satisfied. I shall not keep you from happiness." With a +quiet movement she bent forward and kissed the soft hair above Nance's +forehead. + +After this seal of love, both were silent for a minute or two; then +Nance spoke again, her lashes lowered, her fingers twisted tightly +about her sister's. + +"Clo, doesn't it seem wonderful that he should care for me--he, who is +so bright and clever and rich? But I've been lucky in everything, +haven't I? I haven't liked to say it before, but wasn't it awfully +kind--awfully good of James----?" + +Clodagh half withdrew her hand. In the surprising news that Nance had +given her, she had forgotten the confession she had still to make. + +"Clo, wasn't it awfully kind of him?" + +Clodagh did not answer at once; and when she did so, her voice was +strained. + +"--To leave you that money? That thousand pounds?" + +"Yes; the thousand pounds. Clo, you don't know the dozens and dozens of +times it has made me happy to think of that since--since Pierce has +cared for me. It isn't that I like money for itself; but, when one is +horribly poor, one is sensitive about marrying a millionaire. I mean, +you know----" Again her fingers clung to her sister's. + +"Yes?" + +"One feels that one would like to come to him with everything +that--well--that his sister would have, if she married. It's very +silly, of course. Clodagh, do I seem very silly?" + +At any other time, Clodagh would have smiled at the ingenuousness of +the words; but now some feeling within herself banished amusement. + +"What is it, darling?" she asked. "There's something you are trying to +say." + +Nance looked up into her face. + +"Clo, it's all this stupid pride. Of course Pierce and Daisy and Mrs. +Estcoit know that I have nothing, except my share in Orristown--which, +of course, _is_ nothing. And I know that for all the rest of my life I +shall be dependent on Pierce for everything. But it's just because of +that, that I want to come to him with all the things--the clothes and +things--that other girls have. Oh, I know it's hateful of me--it's weak +and vain." + +Clodagh pressed her hand suddenly. + +"No, darling! I understand." + +"You do? Oh, Clo! dear Clo! Then you know what the thousand pounds +seems like. A thousand pounds all my own! Money of my own to buy +beautiful things with--things like Daisy's--things like yours! I, who +have never had a penny that really belonged to me! And Clodagh, may I +have it soon? That's what I want to say. May I have it soon? I won't +spend it all, of course--not half--nor quarter----" She laughed. "But +may I have it soon? It--it would be heaven!" + +With a swift, involuntary movement, Clodagh freed her hand. + +"Clo, I have said too much! I have asked too much!" + +"No, darling! No! No!" + +"Then I've tired you? Clo, you're tired!" She caught Clodagh's hand +again. "And _you_ wanted to tell _me_ something. Oh, I've been selfish! +Won't you forgive me, and say it now?" + +But Clodagh turned from her and walked to the writing-table--the table +on which her father's miniature had rested the night before. + +"No, I won't talk to-night, darling," she said, without looking round. +"I--I think I have forgotten what I was going to say." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The key-note of Clodagh's character was impulse. She loved, she hated, +she was generous, she was foolish, with a wide impulsiveness. + +When Nance had spoken of her engagement, her unselfish joy and relief +in the security it promised had aroused a renewed desire for +self-sacrifice, as represented by confession of her weakness; but a +moment later, when Nance had spoken of Milbanke's legacy--of her +innocent joy in its existence--of her innocent desire for its +possession--the wish had faltered. She had given her tacit agreement +that the thousand pounds should be placed in Nance's hands--the +thousand pounds, of which the greater portion had already gone to swell +the coffers of London tradesmen or fill the pockets of her friends! + +That was her position on the night of Nance's confidence; and on the +following morning she woke with an oppressive sense that action must be +taken in some direction. + +The whole house party, with the exception of Deerehurst, put in an +appearance at the early breakfast. And as Clodagh entered the +breakfast-room, her spirits rallied a little at the sight of the +crowded table; and she took her place between George Tuffnell and +Serracauld with a sense of respite. + +Lady Diana, who was occupying her usual place at the head of the table, +had borne Nance off to sit beside her; while Lady Frances, looking a +little worn in the searching morning light, was keeping Mrs. Bathurst, +Mansfeldt, and Gore amused. + +The breakfast was not a long meal; and at its conclusion Lady Diana +looked round the table. + +"Now, people!" she said amiably, "what are the morning's plans? You +know, you are none of you to forget my dance to-night, and tire +yourselves!" + +Mrs. Bathurst turned to her with her pretty, languid smile. + +"I'm going to play croquet with Mr. Mansfeldt," she announced. "Nice, +lazy, old-fashioned croquet. We shall turn up at lunch time." + +"And you, Walter?" Lady Diana asked. "Will you drive over with me to +Wynchley? We might take Frances and"--again she looked round the +party--"and Miss Asshlin." + +But Nance glanced quickly down the table to where her sister sat. + +Clodagh caught the questioning look, and bent her head. + +"Yes. Go with Lady Diana," she said affectionately. "It's very sweet of +her to take you." + +Nance smiled shyly. + +"I know," she said, looking from Clodagh to her hostess. + +Lady Diana returned the smile. + +"It's sweet of your sister to spare you to me." + +While she was speaking, Serracauld turned to Clodagh. + +"Will you give _me_ the morning?" he said in an undertone. + +She drew back and laughed a little. + +"What a conceited suggestion! Fancy throwing my little sister over, to +spend the morning with you!" + +He looked at her unabashed. And, as Tuffnell turned to address his +neighbour, he bent close to her again. + +"You're very hard on me! When will you be really, properly kind?" + +"Oh, sometime--perhaps!" Clodagh's tone was careless and light. + +"This morning, then? Come for a ride with me." + +She laughed once more, and shook her head. + +"I have a letter--a terrible business letter--that must be written--a +letter to Mr. Barnard." + +Serracauld raised his eyebrows a trifle satirically. + +"To Barny? Ah, then I shan't press the point. But how many dances am I +to have to-night?" + +"Dances? You know I shan't dance." She glanced down at her black linen +dress. + +He smiled a little. + +"Am I a schoolboy, that I should want to dance? How many dances are we +to sit out?" + +"To sit out? Oh, I'll--I'll tell you that when we've sat out one." +Without looking at him, she pushed back her chair, as Lady Diana rose. + +"Then let that be the first dance?" + +She nodded inconsequently. + +"Perhaps! The first dance!" She stood up, and joining the rest of the +company, moved down the room. + +As she gained the door, Nance ran to her. + +"Clo, darling! Can't I stay with you?" + +Clodagh smiled down into the eager upturned face. + +"Not this morning. I have a business letter to write." + +"Then I _must_ go?" Nance's face fell. + +"Must, darling." + +"But, Clo, you'll think of me--and love me--all the time you're writing +the horrid thing?" + +Clodagh laughed; then all at once her face looked grave. + +"Dearest," she said suddenly, "you don't know how much!" And without +explaining her words, or waiting for Nance to speak again, she passed +quickly across the hall and up the stairs. + + +Four different times Clodagh began her letter to Barnard. Sitting by +the writing-table close to the open window of her bedroom, she watched +the various members of the house party depart on their different ways; +but the quieter and more deserted the house became, the more impossible +it seemed to her to accomplish the task she had in hand. At last, with +a gesture of despair, she tore up the half-written letters that lay +strewn about her; and, rising from the table with a sigh of vexation, +left the room, closing the door softly. + +With a frown of unhappiness and perplexity still upon her forehead, she +descended the stairs, crossed the hall, and passing round the back of +the house, made her way to the rose garden. + +The rose garden at Tuffnell was always a place of beauty; but in the +month of July it was a paradise of scent and colour. Down its centre +ran a long strip of close-cut lawn, flanked on either side by stone +seats and stone nymphs and satyrs, brought from an old Italian garden; +on the high wall, that preserved to the place an absolute seclusion, a +dozen peacocks sunned themselves gorgeously; while over the entire +enclosure grew--and climbed--and drooped--roses; roses of every shade +and of every size; roses that filled the air with a warm scent that +seemed at once to mingle with and to hold the summer sun. + +She paused for an instant upon entering this enchanted garden, and drew +a deep breath of involuntary delight; then, walking slowly, as though +haste might desecrate such beauty, she passed down the long smooth lawn +that formed an alley of greenness amid the pink and crimson of the +flowers. + +Pausing at the farther end, she stood, soothed by the sights and scents +about her, until suddenly a harsh, disturbed cry from one of the +peacocks broke the spell. She turned sharply, and saw Deerehurst +standing close behind her. + +"I saw you from my dressing-room window," he said, in answer to her +look of surprise. "Was it very presumptuous of me to follow you?" + +The cold, familiar voice banished the thought of the roses. Her +vexations and perplexities came back upon her abruptly, causing her +face to cloud over. + +"No!" she said hastily--"no! I--I think I am glad to see you. I am in a +hopeless mood to-day. Things won't go right!" + +He took her hand and bent over it, with even more than his usual +deference, although his cold eyes shot a swift glance at her distressed +face. + +"But you must not say that," he said softly. "Things can always be +compelled to go right." + +She shook her head despondently. + +"Not for me." + +He freed her hand gently, and pointed to one of the stone seats that +stood under the shadow of the rose bushes. + +"Shall we sit down?" he said. "There is a great deal of repose to be +found in this garden of Lady Diana's. She had it copied many years ago +from my rose garden at Ambleigh." + +Clodagh looked up at him, as they moved together across the grass. + +"Indeed!" she said--"from your rose garden?" + +"Yes; she and Tuffnell stayed with me at Ambleigh shortly after they +were married--when my sister was alive. And Lady Diana fell in love +with my rose garden. I remember I sent a couple of my gardeners down +here to plant this one for her. It is an exact reproduction, on a +smaller scale." + +There was silence while they seated themselves; then Clodagh, looking +meditatively in front of her at the evil face of one of the stone +satyrs, spoke suddenly and impulsively. + +"I envy you!" she said. + +"You envy me?" There was a curious, almost an eager tone in +Deerehurst's voice; but she was too preoccupied to hear it. + +"All people are to be envied who have power--and freedom. I get so +tired of myself sometimes--so rebellious against myself! I am always +doing the things I should not do, and failing to do the things I +should. I am hopeless!" + +For a space he made no attempt to break in upon her mood; then, very +quietly, he bent forward and looked up into her face. + +"What is worrying you?" he asked in a whisper. "Confession really +_is_ very good for the soul!" + +For a moment she answered nothing; then, yielding to an impulse, she +met his scrutinising eyes. + +"Oh, it's only a letter that won't let itself be written--one of those +abominable letters that one has to write. Talking of it does no good!" + +"No good? I am not so sure of that. I believe in talking. Tell me about +it!" + +Clodagh laid her hand nervously on the arm of the seat. + +"I have been stupid!" she said almost defiantly. "I have overstepped my +allowance, and must ask Mr. Barnard to advance me some money. And--and +I, somehow, hate to do it. Am I not a fool?" She laughed unsteadily, +and turned to look at her companion; but he had drawn back into the +shadow of the seat. "Oh, it's childish! Ridiculous! I am disgusted with +myself!" Her glance again crossed the strip of green lawn to where the +stone satyr stood. + +Quite silently Deerehurst bent forward again. + +"What is the amount?" he asked softly. + +"A thousand pounds." + +"And is Barnard such a very great friend?" + +Clodagh started. + +"No! Oh no! Why?" She turned quickly and looked at him. + +"Because I wish to know why it should be Barnard." + +There was a long silence, in which she felt her heart beat +uncomfortably fast. A sudden surprise--a sudden confusion--filled her. +Then, through the confusion, she was conscious that Deerehurst was +speaking again. + +"Why should you think of Barnard?" he murmured. "Barnard is not a rich +man. To advance you a thousand pounds may possibly inconvenience him; +whereas a man who need not consider ways and means----" + +Clodagh sat very still. + +"Yes. But I think----" + +"And why think?" he spoke calmly, considerately, without a tinge of +disturbing emotion. "Why think? Why write that troublesome letter? Why +ask a favour when, by granting one----" + +"Granting one----?" + +"Yes. When, by granting a favour, you can make everything smooth. Think +what it would be to me, for instance, if some of the money I am saddled +with were used to bring you happiness--or peace! Think of the favour +_you_ would be doing _me_!" + +She half rose, then sank back again. + +"Oh, but I couldn't! How could I?" + +"And why not? Look! I have only to open my cheque-book"--he very quietly +drew a cheque-book from his breast-pocket--"find the all-powerful +pen"--he searched for, and produced, a gold pen--"and--look!" + +He wrote rapidly for a moment; then held a fluttering white paper in +front of Clodagh's eyes. + +"Look!" + +With a little start, a little cry of deprecation, she rose from her +seat. In a flash of memory she recalled the night on the balcony at +Venice, when he had kissed her hand; she recalled the letter she had +found awaiting her in her room at the hotel. In sudden fear, she +glanced at him. Then her fear faltered. To her searching eyes, he +presented the same aspect that he had assumed since their first meeting +in London--the aspect of a tried, deferential friend. + +"How could I?" she asked again; but unconsciously her tone had +weakened. + +For answer, Deerehurst folded up the cheque and held it out to her with +a respectful--almost a formal bow. + +"By extending to me the merest act of friendship." + +She sat very still, not attempting to take the cheque. + +"I--I could not repay it before January--perhaps not entirely even +then." + +"January, or any time. I understand the art of patience." + +For one moment longer her uncertain glance wandered from the slip of +paper to the glowing rose bushes; from the roses to the cold malignant +face of the satyr that confronted her across the strip of grass. + +"You--you are very kind. In--in January, then." + +Deerehurst bowed again. And in complete silence the cheque passed from +his hand to hers. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Action--decisive action--always brings relief. An hour after it had +come into her possession, Clodagh had dispatched Deerehurst's cheque to +her bankers in London; and when, at seven o'clock, she entered Nance's +room with the intention of dressing for the night's festivities, she +was carrying a cheque from her own book. + +As she came into the room, Nance was kneeling before her trunk; but at +the sound of the closing door she looked round, and sprang to her feet +with a cry of delight. + +"Clo!" she cried, running forward--"Clo, how lovely of you to come! +Shall we dress together, like long ago?" Then her eyes fell to the +folded slip of paper in Clodagh's hand. "What is that?" she asked +curiously. + +Clodagh looked down at the cheque. + +"I have come to do my duty!" she said, with a faint laugh. "Here is +your thousand pounds, darling. May it be enough to buy everything in +life worth having!" + +Her voice faltered on the last words; but the touch of emotion was lost +in a sudden embrace from Nance. + +"Oh, you darling!--you love!" she cried. "A thousand pounds! I feel a +queen!" She drew back a little, flushing with excitement and pleasure; +and opened the cheque almost reverently. "And can I really, really get +a thousand pounds by signing my name on the back of this? I can't +believe it, you know--I simply _can't_." + +She raised her shining eyes to Clodagh's. + +Clodagh's face softened. + +"Oh, you child!" she said--"you child! It makes me remember our weekly +pennies, just to listen to you. How poor--and how very happy--we were +long ago! Do you remember?" + +Nance gave a little cry of recollection. + +"Remember, Clo! _Could_ I forget?" + +Then followed another impulsive embrace, a kiss, and a whole torrent of +reminiscence. And a quarter of an hour had slipped away before the +entrance of Simonetta with Clodagh's dress recalled them to the +knowledge of present things. + +Five minutes before the dinner hour had struck, the sisters entered the +hall. At the foot of the stairs Nance was detained by George Tuffnell; +while Clodagh, left alone for the moment, was at once claimed by +Serracauld. + +He came forward from one of the windows, moving with his usual graceful +indolence, and, pausing beside her, looked intently into her face. + +"You look radiant to-night," he said. + +She laughed. + +"Can one ever look radiant in black?" + +Serracauld's eyes passed slowly from her face to her slim white neck. + +"Yes," he said, in his cool, deliberate voice. + +She gave another laugh, slightly shorter and more conscious than the +last. But before she could speak again, he moved a trifle nearer, and +laid his fingers lightly on her fan. + +"And how many dances am I to have?" + +"I told you I must not dance--yet." + +"And I told you that I would not make you dance. How many may I have?" + +He bent very close to her; then frowned a little, and drew away again, +as Lady Frances Hope, followed by Mrs. Bathurst and Mansfeldt, came +towards them across the hall. + +"You'll give me the dances?" he asked quickly. + +Clodagh glanced at the approaching party; then bent her head in assent. + +"And which?" + +His tone was eager. + +"The first--at least," she said. + +With a faint satisfied smile he turned and moved away. + +Dinner that night was a very lively meal. Everybody seemed imbued with +the spirit of the coming ball, and anxious to display a personal sense +of anticipation. After the company had risen from table, Clodagh and +Nance met again in the hall by previous arrangement and retired to +their rooms, that Simonetta might put some finishing touches to their +hair and dresses, and that they might get the bouquets they were to +carry at the dance. + +As they mounted the staircase side by side, Nance, after the custom of +old days, slipped her arm through her sister's. + +"Clo!" she said softly, "you are excited too! I can feel it!" + +Clodagh smile a little. + +"Well, it is my first dance!" + +Nance halted and looked at her. + +"Why, of course it is! And you must feel like I did the night of Mrs. +Estcoit's ball--the night----" She stopped, blushing. + +"Oh, darling," she added, "fancy my not realising that you had never +been to a dance? It must feel lovely and strange to you!" + +Clodagh drew her onward up the stairs. + +"Yes; it does feel different from anything else. Of course, I shan't +dance; but then people may ask me to--to sit out." + +"_May?_ I wonder who _won't_ ask you!" + +Nance's eyes spoke volumes, as they travelled from her sister's face to +the long lines of her soft black dress. + +Arrested by the look, Clodagh spoke again, abruptly and a little +anxiously. + +"Nance, why do you say that?" + +"Say what?" + +"That people would ask me for dances--that people would care?" + +Again Nance paused and looked at her. + +"I am nearly angry with you, for asking anything so silly," she said +after a second's pause. "But I won't be. I'll forgive you. Though you +know perfectly well that there isn't a man here who wouldn't sit +out--or dance--or do anything in the world with you, from now till +Doomsday." + +She looked up laughingly; but, as she did so, her expression fell. + +"Clo, you're angry?" + +Clodagh patted the hand that lay upon her wrist. + +"Angry, darling? No! Only thinking how wrong you are." + +"Wrong?" + +"Yes; I know one man who would not dance with me, even if--if I were to +offer him a dance----" + +She made the confession swiftly, in obedience to a sudden impulse. + +Nance looked at her afresh in involuntary curiosity. + +"Clo----" + +But Clodagh raised her head, in a half-defiant return to reticence. + +"Don't mind me!" she said. "After all, no one man should fill anybody's +world, should he? Come along! It's half-past nine, and I hear the first +carriages." + +And without waiting for Nance to reply, she swept her down the corridor +to the door of her bedroom. + +The presence of Simonetta precluded the possibility of further +confidences; and ten minutes later, as the sisters again emerged upon +the corridor, the appearance of Lady Frances Hope from the door of her +own room deprived Nance of the moment for which she had been waiting. + +Seeing them, Lady Frances came forward smilingly. + +"How charming!" she said. "A study in black and white! Where did those +wonderful roses come from, Clodagh? They are nearly as dark as your +dress." + +Clodagh looked down at the damask roses in her hand. + +"Yes. Aren't they nearly black?" she said easily. "I was saying to Lord +Deerehurst the other day that there were no flowers one could wear in +mourning. And to-day I found these in my room. He had wired for them to +Ambleigh. It was very thoughtful of him." + +Lady Frances gave an odd little smile. + +"Very," she said. "I wonder if he meant them to be mourning. I believe +there was a language of flowers when he was young." + +She gave a short amused laugh and turned to Nance. + +"And this is your first English dance, Miss Asshlin?" + +Nance, whose eyes had been flashing from one face to the other, gave a +little start at being so suddenly addressed. + +"Yes--yes; it is. I came out in America." + +"Then you can tell us in the morning which men make the nicest +partners, English or American." + +Nance laughed. And Clodagh, with the new, protective instinct, put out +her hand and drew her close to her. + +"Nance has made her choice," she said impulsively. "The field is not +open to Englishmen, But let us go downstairs! We are barely in time." + +At the foot of the stairs, the three turned to the left and made their +way to the ballroom through the throng of arriving guests. + +Entering the long room, they moved slowly forward to where Lady Diana +and her husband were receiving their guests. + +Reaching Lady Diana's side, Clodagh felt her heart beat quicker, as she +caught side of Gore's fair head and tall, straight figure. And a +strange sense of repeated sensation surged about her. It might almost +have been the night at the Palazzo Ugochini, when Lady Frances Hope had +held her reception. Her hand felt a little unsteady as she laid it over +Nance's; her voice sounded low and uncertain as she spoke her hostess's +name. + +"Lady Diana!" she said, "here is Nance! You told me to bring her to you +before the first dance." + +At her tone, so very soft and pleading, Lady Diana turned; and a +smile--the first real smile she had given her since the episode of two +nights ago--broke over her face. + +"Yes," she said, with sudden geniality--"yes; that is quite right! +Leave her with me; I will find her the nicest men." She paused, and her +eyes travelled kindly from Clodagh's face to her black dress. + +"And you? Won't you have some partners?" Her glance swept the little +group about her. "Walter, Mrs. Milbanke won't dance, but----" + +At the moment that she spoke, Serracauld's light voice sounded from +behind them, and his slim figure emerged from the surrounding crowd. + +"Ah, here you are, Mrs. Milbanke! I have a strong suspicion that I am +only just in time. Where shall we go? Into the music-room? Or out into +the garden?" Supremely ignoring the rest of the group, he offered +Clodagh his arm and led her out into the throng, at the moment that the +swaying notes of the first waltz floated down from the musicians' +gallery. + +With a faint disappointment, warring with a faint elation, Clodagh +suffered him to guide her down the long ballroom. Life seemed suddenly +a brighter thing than it had seemed for days. Nance was with her; Lady +Diana had smiled on her again; and only a moment ago she had met Gore's +eyes in almost the first direct glance they had exchanged since his +coming to Tuffnell. She lifted her head in response to a sudden excited +happiness, as the dancers flashed past her over the polished floor, and +the deep, long notes of the violins vibrated on the air. + +Unconsciously her fingers tightened on Serracauld's arm; and in instant +response, he paused. + +"Can you resist?" he said. + +She looked up at him. The colour had rushed into her face with the +emotion of the moment. An inordinate longing to be young--to enjoy--to +be as the crowd about her--swept her mind imperiously. + +A peculiar look crossed Serracauld's eyes. + +"Just for two minutes?" he whispered. "No one will see you in the first +crush. There is no waltz like this!" Almost before she was aware of it, +he had slipped his arm round her waist. + +For an instant a gleam of surprise--of alarm--showed in her face; then +the long, persuasive notes of the stringed instruments dropped to a +lower, more enticing key. She yielded to the pressure of his arm, and +the two glided in amongst the dancers. + +They made the half-circuit of the room, escaping the observation of the +house party at its further end; and as they reached the door, Clodagh +pressed her hand detainingly on Serracauld's arm. + +He paused. + +"Tired?" he asked, looking down into her flushed face and brilliant +eyes. + +She shook her head faintly. Her heart was still beating too fast--her +brain still felt too elated--to notice the ardour and the intentness of +his glance. + +"We must stop," she said softly. "You know, even the two minutes were +stolen." + +He slowly withdrew his arm from her waist, but still kept his eyes on +hers. + +"I suppose all the things in life worth having are come by +dishonestly," he said lightly. Then, in a lower tone, he added, "Do you +know that you dance--gloriously?" + +Clodagh made no answer. Her mind was more occupied with the dance just +gone through than with the partner who had shared it. And for the +moment Serracauld was content with her silence. + +Leaving the ballroom, they passed together down a long corridor that +ended in a short flight of stairs, leading to the card-room. + +At the foot of these stairs he paused, struck by a new idea. + +"Suppose we look into the card-room?" he said. "I believe it will be +deserted at this early hour." + +Clodagh assented. + +"If you like," she said. "It _would_ be rather nice to find a quiet +spot." And, leading the way with careless unconcern, she began to mount +the stairs. + +The door of the card-room was open. The baize-covered tables were +arranged for play; but only one small, green-shaded lamp had been +lighted; and the window was uncurtained and open to the still summer +night. + +She paused on the threshold, and Serracauld stepped quickly to her +side. + +"It might almost have been arranged for us," he said. "Won't you go +in?" + +She waited for a moment longer; then she walked slowly forward and +halted beside one of the tables. + +Very quietly her companion closed the door, and, crossing the room +softly, paused close behind her. + +"Do you know that you dance--gloriously?" he said again. "But I always +knew you would. A waltz with you is one of the things I promised myself +a long time ago." + +As he spoke, she was conscious that his shoulder almost brushed hers. +With a faintly uneasy movement she raised her head. + +"What do you mean?" she asked, turning and meeting his eyes. + +In the dim light of the room there was something curious, new, and +alarming in the glance she encountered. He was standing exceedingly +near; his face looked very pale; the pupils of his eyes were dilated, +giving them a peculiar, unfamiliar look. + +Embarrassed, and yet doubtful that her embarrassment was justified, she +turned away, and, nervously taking a pack of cards from the table, +began to pass them through her fingers. + +"I don't know what you mean," she said again. "I don't understand." + +Quite suddenly Serracauld laughed; and, passing his arms over hers, +caught her hands, so that the cards fluttered to the table. + +"Nonsense!" he said in a sharp, whispering voice--"nonsense! The +prettiest woman of the season not understand!" + +He laughed again, and with a swift movement freed her hands; and, +clasping her suddenly and closely, forced her head backwards and bent +his face to hers. + +The action was not so much a kiss, as a vehement, almost painful +pressure of his lips upon her mouth--something that stung her to +resentment rather than to fear. + +For one instant she remained passive; the next, she had freed herself +with the muscular activity that had always belonged to her slight, +supple frame. + +As she drew away from him, she was trembling and her face was white; +but there was a look he had never imagined in her eyes and on her lips. +For one moment it seemed that she meant to speak; and then her lips +closed. She turned away from him and walked out of the room without a +word. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Hardly conscious of her movements, Clodagh left the card-room and +passed down the corridor. + +Her only tangible sensations were anger and self-contempt. The thought +that Serracauld, who had seemed less than nothing in the scheme of her +life--Serracauld, with whom she had laughed and jested and flirted +because he was a boy and of no account--should have treated her +lightly; should have presumed to kiss her, to seize her violently in +his arms, was something shameful and intolerable. The simplicity of her +upbringing--the uncontaminated childhood that her country had given +her--rose to confront her in this newest crisis. Vain, frivolous, +foolish she might be, but beneath the vanity, the frivolity, the folly, +she was--and always had been--good, in the primitive, fundamental sense +of the word. + +She hurried down the corridor, and down the staircase that she had +ascended so short a time before; but, reaching the ground floor, she +did not turn towards the ballroom, from which the sound of the violins +still floated. Instinctively, she moved in the opposite direction, +towards the quieter portion of the house in which stood the music-room. + +The door of the room was closed when she reached it, and no sound came +to her from within. For a space she stood hesitating outside; then the +distant murmur of talk and laughter roused her to action. Her hesitancy +fled before her distaste for companionship. She raised her hand and +noiselessly opened the door. + +To enter the music-room was to enter a region of romance. For, as the +card-room upstairs suggested the world and the things of the world, +this room seemed to embrace all the repose, all the dignity, all the +peace that such places as Tuffnell gather unto themselves with the +passage of time. It was a long, low-ceiled room with wainscoted walls +and a polished oak floor; and the first object that met the visitor's +eye, was an old harpsichord, mutely eloquent of bygone days; for, with +rare good taste, Lady Diana had hidden her piano behind a tapestry +screen, worked many centuries ago by another lady of the house. Even on +this night of festivity, the place retained its peculiar quiet; only +half a dozen candles burned in the sconces that hung upon the walls; +and the scent of lavender and dried rose-leaves lingered upon the air. + +It seemed what it was--a room in which, for numberless generations, +women of refinement had made music, read poetry or sung songs, while +they wove about them the indescribable atmosphere of home. + +And into this room Clodagh stepped, her heart burning, her mind +distressed, pained, and hurt. + +For an instant she paused upon the threshold, overwhelmed by the +contrast between the aloofness, the graceful repose of the place, and +tumult of her own thoughts; then, yielding to the spirit of peace, she +closed the door resolutely and went forward into the room. + +But at sound of the closing door, at sound of her dress upon the +polished floor, an answering sound came from behind the tapestry +screen--the noise of a chair being quietly pushed back--of some one +rising to his feet. + +In sudden consternation, she stopped. For one instant she glanced +behind her, contemplating flight; the next, a faint exclamation of +surprise--the merest audible breath-escaped her; and her figure became +motionless. + +The occupant of the room came quietly round the screen; and in the +uncertain light of the candles she recognised Gore. + +The position was unusual; the moment was unusual. For the first time +since the night at the Palazzo Ugochini, they were entirely alone--for +the first time since the night at the Palazzo Ugochini they looked at +each other without the commentary of other eyes--without the atmosphere +of conventional things. + +Involuntarily, inevitably, their eyes met. Clodagh looked into his; and +in the contact of glances it seemed that a miracle came to pass. By +power of that magnetism that indisputably exists--the magnetism that +draws certain natures irrevocably together, although circumstance and +time may delay their union--she saw the gleam of comprehension, of +question, of acknowledgment spring from his eyes to hers; and she knew, +without the need of words, that he stood within the circle of her +power, that--whether with, or against his will--his personality claimed +response from hers. + +She did not move; for it seemed to her, in that instant of +understanding, that her life and his were mysteriously suspended. Her +heart beat extraordinarily fast, yet her mental vision was curiously +clear. By the light of her recent misgivings, by the light of her +sudden confidence she seemed to see and to read herself and him with a +strange and vivid clearness. Some power, tangible yet invincibly +compelling, drew them together. In the personal scheme of things there +were only two persons--he and she. Beyond the walls of the music-room +life swept forward as relentlessly, as rapidly as before; but inside +the walls of the music-room there were only he and she. + +Almost unconsciously she took a step towards him. + +"Do you remember that night in Venice?" she asked. "The night you said +all the things that sounded so hard, and hurt so much, and--and were so +true?" + +She did not know why she had spoken. She did not know how she had +framed her words. She only knew that, exalted by the consciousness of +great good within her reach, she was moved to dare greatly. + +It was the moment of her life. The moment when all social barriers of +prejudice and of etiquette fell away before a tremendous +self-knowledge. She realised in that space of time that her thoughts of +Gore--her attraction towards him--her reluctant admiration--had been +insensibly leading up to this instant of action; that on the evening +when they stood together on the terrace of the hotel at Venice, and +watched the night steal in from the lagoon, it had been irrevocably +written in the book of fate that they should one day look into each +other's hearts--for happiness or sorrow. + +"Do you remember that night in Venice?" she said again, almost below +her breath. And in the pause that followed the whispered words, the +most wonderful--the most wholly perfect--incident of her life occurred. +The voice that had power to chill or stir her, spoke her name; the +hands she had believed closed to her for ever were held out towards +her. Gore came slowly forward across the shadowed room. + +"I do remember," he said. "I have never forgotten, I never shall +forget." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Nearly three weeks had passed since the night of Lady Diana Tuffnell's +dance; and Clodagh was once more occupying her London flat. + +The season was long since dead; the fashionable world had betaken +itself to its customary haunts; London had, in the eyes of society, +become intolerable; and yet it seemed to her, as she woke each morning +and looked across the park, lying under a haze of heat, that she had +never known the great city until now; that she had never experienced +the exhilaration that can lie in its crowded, strenuous life until now, +when her own existence--her own soul seemed lifted above it on the +wings of happiness. + +The hours, the days, the weeks that had followed the night of Lady +Diana's dance had been a chain of golden dreams, linked one to the +other. From the moment that Gore had made his confession, the face of +the world had altered for her. One overwhelming fact had coloured the +universe. The fact that he loved--that he needed her. + +They had entered into no lucid explanations in the moments that had +followed the confession; for men and women in love have no need of such +mundane things. With the glorious egotism of nature, they are content +with the primitive consciousness that each lives and is close to the +other. + +Clodagh had, it is true, made some faint and deprecating allusion to +the past--to Gore's first disapproval, and subsequent avoidance of her. +And he had paused in his flow of talk and looked at her with sudden +seriousness. + +"I have never disapproved of you," he had said. "I have never felt it +was my place to disapprove." + +"But you have avoided me?" + +"Never intentionally. I have watched you; I have studied you, since we +have been here together." + +"And what have you seen?" + +Clodagh had remembered the card-room and Serracauld--the rose garden +and Deerehurst--with a quick, faint sense of fear. + +But Gore had taken her hand and, with quiet courtesy, had raised it to +his lips. + +"I have seen--or believe I have seen--that though you may like these +people, may be amused by them, may even court them, not one of them is +more to you now than they were in Venice. That is what I believe. Am I +right?" + +And Clodagh--in sudden relief, in sudden gratitude for his faith--had +caught his hand passionately between her own, and looked up confidently +into his face. + +"You are right!" she had cried. "Oh, you are right! They are nothing to +me! Nothing!--nothing!" + +And Gore, moved by her vehemence, had leant forward and looked deeply +into the eyes that challenged his. + +"Not one of them is anything to you--in any way?" + +"Not one of them is anything to me--in any way." + +That had been the only moment of personal doubt or question that had +obtruded itself upon the first hours of mutual comprehension. Until +more than half the programme had been danced through, and the older +guests had begun to depart, they had walked together up and down the +solitary paths of the old garden upon which the music-room opened--a +garden where thyme and lavender and a hundred other sweet-smelling +plants bordered the prim flower-beds and recalled by their scents the +days when the harpsichord had tinkled out across the silence of the +night. As they paced slowly to and fro, they had made many confessions, +sweet in the confessing, of thoughts and desires and doubts felt by +each--when each had believed the other out of reach; and quietly, +hesitatingly, eagerly they had touched upon the future, upon the days +when Clodagh's mourning should be over and they could permit the world +to share their secret--upon the days, still later, when their lives +should no longer be separate things, but one perfect whole. + +Gore was an unusual, and a very delightful lover. The slight suggestion +of reticence that marked him in ordinary life clung to him even in +these intimate moments. He gave the impression that behind his extreme +quiet, his almost gentle deference of manner, lay reserves of feeling, +of dignity, of strength that he himself had, perhaps, never fathomed. + +And for this very reserve--this courtliness--this indescribable +fineness of bearing, Clodagh felt her own nature leap forth in renewed +admiration. + +At last, at one o'clock, they had parted, he to smoke and pace the +garden paths until the early summer dawn broke over the woods; she to +wait by the open window of Nance's bedroom, with her face buried in her +hands, her whole being alive and tingling with the tumult, the +excitement of the joy that had come to her. + + +At six o'clock next morning, before any member of the house party was +awake, Gore had made his way to the stables; and a few minutes later +had emerged, leading two saddled horses. In the drive he had been +joined by Clodagh, dressed in her riding habit, and fresh and buoyant +as on the first morning when she had ridden alone through the great +gates, and had dreamed of his coming to Tuffnell. + +No companionship can be more delightful than that of two people wholly +occupied with each other, who ride together on a summer morning. To +Clodagh, the frank happiness of that stolen ride--the intoxicating +sense of reality conveyed by Gore's glance, as she met it in the +searching sunlight, had been things that possessed no parallel. Her +natural, spontaneous capacity for joy had wakened within her like a +flood of light. The misgivings--the dark hours--the feverish +artificiality of the past months had been dispersed as if by magic. She +had become as a child who, by the fervour of its own delight, sheds +delight upon all around. + +And so it had been with the days that had elapsed before their +departure from Buckinghamshire. They had met as often as chance would +permit; but, with the exception of the first stolen ride, they had +arranged no more secret meetings. And to Clodagh the half-furtive, +ever-expectant existence had been fraught with new pleasure. To talk +and laugh with others, to watch Gore do likewise, and all the while to +know that, unseen by any eyes, unsuspected by those around them, their +lives were linked together--their thoughts belonged to each other--was +a source of intense excitement, of unending joy. + +To Nance alone did she confide her secret; and here lay another source +of happiness. For every night, when the house party had retired, when +Simonetta had been dismissed, and the house given over to the great +sheltering stillness of the country, the sisters had exchanged such +confidences as all women love--talking of their hopes, their fears, +their pasts, their futures, in the half-reluctant, half-eager +confessions that the dark suggests. + +Then at last these days of mystery and possibility had come to an end. +Gore had received a letter from his mother asking him to join her in +Scotland; and almost at the same hour had come a cablegram from Pierce +Estcoit saying that he, with his mother and sister, had sailed for +England a fortnight earlier than they had at first intended. + +So bidding good-bye to the Tuffnells, to her fellow guests, and to +Gore, Clodagh had returned to London. And now, a fortnight later, she +and Nance were driving homeward through the park in the warmth of an +early afternoon. + +The morning had been devoted to the preparation of Nance's trousseau--a +matter which, in these days, claimed absorbed attention; and, later, +the sisters had lunched together at one of the restaurants. + +The day--or at least the earlier portion of it--had been a complete +success. But now, as Clodagh's motor car sped along under the canopy of +trees, already whitened with summer dust, a cloud seemed to have fallen +upon the sisters' gaiety. Clodagh lay back in her corner, looking +straight in front of her; Nance sat stiffly upright, her face flushed, +her head held at an aggressive angle. + +At last, unable to maintain the silence longer, she turned and looked +at her sister. + +"It--it seems to me so stupid!" she said. + +Clodagh took up a parasol that lay beside her, and opened it with a +little jerk. + +"Was it my fault that he lunched at 'Prince's'? Was it my fault that he +sat at the table next to ours? You know perfectly well that I don't +care where he lunches--or whether he ever lunches----" + +Nance maintained her rigid attitude. + +"I wonder if he is of that opinion," she said dryly. + +Clodagh flushed suddenly. + +"It is you who are being stupid! Lord Deerehurst is one of my best +friends. It's impossible to treat him rudely when we chance to meet." + +Nance gave a little angry laugh. + +"When you chance to meet!" she repeated with immense scorn. Then she +turned afresh and looked at her sister. "Do you think engaged people +ought to have best friends? I wonder what Pierce would say if I were to +get flowers and books and things every day----" + +Clodagh shut her parasol sharply. + +"How can you, Nance! Books and flowers and things everyday! Four times +Lord Deerehurst has sent me flowers since we came back to town." + +"And how many times has he written to you? And how many times has he +called? And why did he come back to town from Tuffnell, instead of +going to France with Mr. Serracauld?" + +Clodagh looked away across the park. + +"He had business in town." + +"Business! Was it business that brought him to the flat at nine o'clock +the second day after we arrived--and that made you ride with him? Oh, +Clo, I wonder, when you think of Walter, that you're--you're not +ashamed!" She brought the last word forth with a little gasp. + +For a moment Clodagh's face was suffused with red. + +"I do not need anybody to tell me how I should care for Walter," she +said, after a moment's pause. + +At the low, hurt tone, Nance's antagonistic attitude suddenly deserted +her. The expression of her face changed, her figure unbent. + +"Clo! Clo! I was a wretch!--I was a wretch! Forgive me! It's only that, +knowing Walter is coming back to-morrow, knowing that he hates Lord +Deerehurst, and seeing you allow him to go everywhere that you go---- +Oh, Clo, I can't properly explain, but sometimes I have felt--afraid. +Walter is so--so honourable himself." + +Clodagh put out her hand and laid it for a moment upon her sister's. + +"When one loves like I do, Nance," she said, "one simply doesn't _see_ +anybody but the person that one cares for. Other people don't +count--other people don't exist!" + +Nance looked down at the hand still resting upon her own. + +"Perhaps not," she said wisely, "but the point is that the person one +cares for may not be quite so blind." + +Clodagh withdrew her hand. + +"You mean that Walter might imagine--you mean that Walter might be +_jealous_ of Lord Deerehurst?" + +"I do mean that." + +With a sudden gesture of amusement, Clodagh threw up her head and +laughed. Then almost as suddenly her face became grave. + +"Nance!" she said in a new voice. + +Very sharply Nance turned. + +"Yes?" + +But Clodagh's mood had veered once more. + +"Nothing, darling!" she said--"nothing! Here we are at home! Aren't you +longing for a nice, cool room and a cup of tea?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The fragmentary quarrel between the sisters was very suggestive. +Nance's anger, and Clodagh's irritable repudiation of her advice, had +each been fraught with its own significance. For, much as the former +might busy herself in the happiness of her own engagement and the +preparations for her marriage, she could not blind herself to the fact +that Clodagh was acting, if not with genuine folly, at least with +something that might readily be mistaken for it; and much as the latter +might resent a criticism of her action, she could not mentally deny +that possibly the criticism was justified. + +Yet, when the matter came to be sifted, it was hard to say exactly the +point to which exception could reasonably be taken. + +Undoubtedly Deerehurst did obtrude himself with curious--with almost +intimate--frequency into the plans of each day; but then the intrusion +was so natural--so simple--so subtle, if one might use so extreme a +word. If London is large in one sense, it is socially as small as any +other capital; and the man who wishes to seek the society of a member +of his own set finds his way rendered very easy. + +And in all matters of tact and subtlety Deerehurst was an adept. If, in +Nance's eyes, his comings and goings were things to cavil at, he knew +exactly how to arrange them for Clodagh's consideration, so that the +gift of a bunch of flowers--the offer of seats at a theatre--the loan +of a horse--or the retailing of an amusing bit of gossip seemed the +merest courtesies from one friend to another. For in one fact lay his +advantage--the fact of a really great favour, secretly given and +secretly accepted, in comparison with which all trivial civilities +became as nothing. + +Not that he ever pressed this advantage home. He was far too wise to +allude to it by look or word. But the very passivity of his attitude +served to fix the consciousness of his generosity deeper in Clodagh's +mind. Not that the knowledge of it galled her; she was too exultantly +happy in her own life to be hampered by any debt. But the knowledge of +its existence was there--unconsciously bearing upon her ideas and her +actions. + +On the morning following her return from Tufinell, a faint thrill of +surprise and uneasiness had touched her when her eyes had fallen upon a +big square envelope, bearing a black coronet, that lay amongst her +letters on the breakfast table. And another remembrance of Venice had +caused her fingers to tremble slightly as she tore the letter open. + +But at the first line her face had cleared--her confidence in life and +in herself had flowed back in full tide. There was not a word in the +letter that Gore himself might not have read. + +So great had been her relief, that a new wave of kindly feeling for +Deerehurst had awakened in her mind; and when, on the following +morning, he had joined her in her early ride, she had received him with +friendly warmth. + +And from that, things had drifted, until Deerehurst's +presence--Deerehurst's discreet, deferential, amusing personality--had +become a factor in the day's routine. The Estcoits had arrived from +America, and, with their advent, she had been compelled to see less of +Nance; the majority of her friends had already left town, so that even +had she desired the old existence, amusements and occupations were less +easy to find than they had been a month ago. There was, of course, her +daily letter from Gore--the most precious thing in her existence--and +there was also her daily letter to him. But even a woman in love cannot +read and write--or even dream--all day; and in the intervals of +idleness there invariably seemed to be--Deerehurst. + +But now at last the day had arrived upon which Gore was to return to +London. It was four o'clock in the afternoon; the hot summer air was +beating upon the green-and-white sunblinds of the flat; and Nance was +standing at a table in the window, arranging a bowl of heliotrope, when +Clodagh opened the door of the drawing-room. + +She was dressed in her riding habit; her riding crop was under one arm; +and as she came forward into the room she was drawing off a pair of +chamois gloves. + +"He hasn't come?" she asked quickly. "Oh, I'm so glad! I was terrified +that that last gallop might have made me late! How lovely life is!" She +came quickly across the room; and, linking her arm in Nance's, buried +her face in the heliotrope. + +"How lovely life is! And summer! And flowers! Do you know, the sun +to-day made me long for Orristown. Think of it all, Nance! Burke and +Hannah, and Polly and the dogs! Oh, we must all go there together--you +and I, and Pierce and Walter----" She paused suddenly and looked at her +sister. + +"Nance! You're cross!" + +Nance refused to look up. + +"Nance, you're cross!" Her voice was less sure--less confident. + +Nance caught the tone of hesitancy, and turned quickly round. + +"I wish Walter had driven through the park ten minutes ago," she said. +"I do--I really, really do." + +Clodagh's face flamed, and she drew away from her sister. + +"And I wish----" she began hotly. Then she paused. + +The door of the drawing-room was thrown open; and Gore was announced. + +For one instant, Clodagh stood hesitating with a new and charming +diffidence; the next, all thoughts of self were blotted out by the +consciousness of his presence--his bright, strong presence, typified by +his frank eyes, his clear, healthy skin, his close-cropped fair hair. +With a little exclamation of greeting, she hurried towards him. + +In quick, warm response, he took both her hands. + +"Well!" he said--"well! It's good to see you! How splendid you look! +And Nance, too!" He turned to the window with quiet cordiality. + +"Can Nance find time to shake hands with a mere Englishman?" + +Nance laid down the bunch of heliotrope she was still holding. + +And at the same moment, Clodagh looked round impulsively. + +"Nance and I were quarrelling," she said. + +"Quarrelling! What on earth about?" Gore looked amusedly from one to +the other. + +"Oh, about----" + +But Nance interrupted by stepping quickly forward. + +"About nothing!" she said hastily. "How are you, Walter? I'm so glad to +see you! But I must wash my hands before I even try to talk. Heliotrope +is much stickier than you'd think." She looked down at her fingers, +then laughed and moved across the room. But as Gore hurried forward to +open the door for her, she glanced up into his face with an almost +serious look. + +"I'm so glad you have come back!" she whispered. "Make up to her for +the time you've been away!" + +Gore's feelings were very pleasant, very protective, as he closed the +door and turned back into the room. He was too essentially an Englishman +to be very demonstrative; but the leaven of sentiment that so often lies +in the English character had always held a place in his nature. In +confessing his love to Clodagh--in acknowledging that love to +himself--he had indisputably swept aside some difficulties--difficulties +born of inherent prejudice, of a certain stiff-necked distrust of what +he had begun by criticising. But they had been thrust aside. He had +acknowledged himself stirred to the depths of nature by something +brilliant and vivid in her personality. He had made his choice. + +His whole expression, his whole bearing, was attractive as he came +towards her; he seemed to carry about him a breath of the country--the +clean, open spaces of the country. And her heart gave a throb of pride +and satisfaction, of complete, ungrudging admiration, as he took her +hands again and drew her to him. + +"Well!" he said fondly--"well! Have you really missed me as much as +your letters said?" + +For a moment she remained silent, drinking in the joy of his presence. + +"Won't you tell me?" + +"In a moment--in one moment. Oh, Walter, the heavenly rest of knowing +that you care!" + +Then suddenly shaking off her seriousness, she drew away from him, +looking up into his face with eyes that shone strangely. + +"I'm not crying, Walter!" she exclaimed. "I'm only--frantically happy!" +She gave a little gasp, followed by a little laugh. + +And Gore, carried away by her charm, by the unconscious flattery of her +words, caught her suddenly in his arms, and, bending his face to hers, +kissed her passionately. + +At last they drew apart, laughing; and Clodagh moved across the room to +the open window, and sat down upon the low sill. + +A second or two later, he followed her. + +"Well! And so the fiance is perfection?" he said smilingly. "Little +Nance looks very happy." He seated himself on the edge of the table, +strewn with the _debris_ of the heliotrope. + +Clodagh glanced up, pleased and interested. + +"Yes, Pierce is charming," she said eagerly. "And so are his mother and +sister. I told you, didn't I?" + +"Yes." + +"We dined with them at the Carlton last night. And they're coming here +to tea this afternoon. I know you'll love them. Mrs. Estcoit has the +most fascinating----" + +But Gore made a rueful face. + +"To-day!" he said. "Oh, you might have given me the first day!" + +Clodagh laughed happily. + +"How greedy of you! This is to be a family party." + +Gore smiled. + +"And Nance was decorating the room for the sacrifice?" He idly gathered +the stalks and leaves of the heliotrope into a little heap. + +The action was purely mechanical, purely inadvertent. But as he drew +the broken stems together, a small object, hitherto hidden under the +scattered leaves, was suddenly brought to light. + +It was very trivial, very uninteresting--merely a man's visiting-card. +Without consideration he picked it up and looked at it. Then, with an +extremely quiet gesture, he laid it down again. + +It bore the name of the Earl of Deerehurst; and across it Clodagh's +name and address had been scribbled in pencil. + +"So you owe the decorations to Deerehurst?" he said in a low voice. + +There was a short silence. Then suddenly he rose and stepped to +Clodagh's side. + +"Dear, forgive me!" he said. + +At the unexpected words, Clodagh's heart swelled. With a sudden impulse +she caught the hand he had laid upon her shoulder and pressed it +against her face. + +"No, Walter!" she said. "Say all that was in your mind! Be angry, if +you like!" + +For answer, Gore seated himself beside her on the window-sill. + +"I don't think I should ever be angry with you," he said gently. "Anger +seems to belong to lesser things than--love. I should either believe in +you or disbelieve in you." + +He said the somewhat curious words gravely. + +Clodagh turned to him swiftly. + +"Walter, there was no doubt of me in your mind then?" + +He met her searching eyes quietly. + +"Not one doubt. Do you think I have forgotten that night at Tuffnell?" + +He spoke almost gently; but at his words, the remembrance of the night +at Tuffnell rushed back upon Clodagh with an almost exaggerated +vividness. On that night love had shone upon her--love, with its +coveted accompaniments of trust and protection. She remembered the +dimly-lit music-room, the dark garden with its old-fashioned scents; +she remembered Gore's quiet, distinct question. "Not one of these +people is anything to you--in any way?" + +She remembered this; and she remembered also the infinitesimal pause +that had divided his question from her answer, when the images of Lady +Frances Hope, of Serracauld, of Deerehurst, had flitted across her +imagination. Then, last of all, she recalled her own answer-- + +"Not one of them is anything to me--in any way." + +The moment that had brought forth that answer had been crucial--had +been, psychologically, intensely interesting. It had been the triumph +of love--the triumph of the egotism that is, and ever must be, a +component part of love. + +And now, as she reviewed the incident in the colder light of day--as +she turned involuntarily and looked at Gore--she was suddenly mastered +by the certain knowledge that, were the circumstance to be repeated, +her action would be the same. + +With a swift movement, she held out her hand. + +"Walter," she said impulsively, "you are the only person in the world! +No one else exists!" + + +It was an hour later, and the outward aspect of Clodagh's drawing-room +had been changed. The sunblinds had been drawn up, and a full flood of +light allowed to pour in across the table in the window; the _debris_ +of leaves and stalks upon the table--and with them Deerehurst's +card--had been removed to give place to a tea-tray; while through the +room itself rang the gay talk and laughter of people who have enjoyed a +genuinely pleasant meal. + +The tea had been disposed of some little time ago; but Nance still +lingered beside the tea-table; and at her side stood Gore and a young +man of five-and-twenty, with a tall, slight figure, a pale face, and +intensely shrewd and penetrating eyes. + +Clodagh, still wearing her riding habit, sat in the centre of the room +in radiantly high spirits, talking animatedly to a distinguished-looking +woman with beautiful white hair, and to a slim, graceful girl of about +Nance's age, who sat one on either side of her. + +"Isn't it unkind of Mrs. Estcoit, Pierce?" she said, suddenly turning +towards the tea-table. "She says you must go!" + +Estcoit laughed--and when he laughed a very agreeable gleam of humour +showed in his shrewd eyes. + +"But it takes my mother ten minutes to go from anywhere," he said. "Ask +Nance if it doesn't!" + +Clodagh laughed gaily. + +"Good! Then I can ask ten more questions about Boston. Mrs. Estcoit, +please tell me----" + +But she paused before her sentence was finished. For the handle of the +door had turned; and, looking up quickly, she saw the tall figure of +Deerehurst. + +Had any member of the party looked at her in that moment, he or she +would have seen a wave of colour sweep across her face, then die out, +leaving her almost white. But beyond this, she betrayed no emotion; +and, a moment later, when Deerehurst came towards her across the room +with his habitual slow, silent step, she raised her head, smiling a +conventional welcome, and held out her hand. + +He took it silently, and with a slightly ostentatious impressiveness. + +"A thousand apologies if I intrude on a social gathering," he murmured. +"But on returning home, I chanced upon the book we were discussing +to-day, and remembering how interested you were----" With a very quiet +movement he laid a small and costly little book of verses on the arm of +Clodagh's chair, and turned with his usual dignity to where Nance was +standing. + +"How d'you do, Miss Asshlin! Is it too late to beg for a cup of tea?" + +Nance held out her hand. + +"I'm afraid 'twill be rather cold," she said a little ungraciously. +"But if you don't mind that, will you please ring the bell? We shall +want another cup." + +Estcoit glanced at her, a humorous look hovering about his thin lips; +and at the same instant Gore was conscious of a sudden wave of +brotherly affection. + +But Deerehurst showed no embarrassment. He turned to the fireplace, +pressed the bell, then looked round again upon the little group. + +"Hallo, Gore!" he said carelessly. "I thought you were killing salmon +at the home of the ancestors. How d'you do, Mr. Estcoit?" + +He nodded to the young American; then moved away again to where Clodagh +sat. + +"What a dreadful afternoon!" he said. "Why haven't you changed into +something lighter?" He glanced at her riding habit. + +She blushed and looked up hastily. + +"We have just been saying what a glorious afternoon! But I don't think +you have met Mrs. and Miss Estcoit. Let me introduce you! Lord +Deerehurst, Mrs. Estcoit!" + +Both ladies bowed, and Mrs. Estcoit broke at once into an unaffected +flow of talk, to which Deerehurst listened with polite interest, +smiling now and then, and occasionally raising his eyeglass. + +At last, as she paused, he looked at her in faint curiosity. + +"And you really find an interest in England?" he asked. + +She gave a bright, cordial laugh--a laugh that seemed to testify to the +perennial youth of her countrywomen. + +"This is the twenty-first visit I've paid to England," she said, "and I +love it more every time. When my son turns me out of my home in Boston, +I shall buy one of your country places--as a dower-house!" Again she +laughed, casting an affectionate glance towards Nance and Estcoit! +"But, Clodagh, we really must fly. Good-bye, Lord Deerehurst! Delighted +to have met you!" She rose gracefully, shook hands with the old peer, +and turning to Clodagh, took both her hands and kissed her warmly. + +"Good-bye!" she said--"good-bye! It has been perfectly charming!" + +Clodagh smiled a quick response. + +"Indeed it has--for me. Don't forget to-morrow night!" + +"Forget! Why, I'm existing to see that play! Come, Daisy!" She turned +to her daughter, who had joined the group at the tea-table. "Pierce, +are you ready? Good-bye, Nance! Come with us to the elevator?" + +Nance crossed the room readily, while Estcoit shook hands with Clodagh. + +"Good-bye!" he said. "I shall see you to-morrow night--if not sooner." + +She pressed his hand warmly. "Make it sooner!" she said. And they both +laughed, after the manner of people who understand and like each other. + +The momentary departure of Nance, left Clodagh, Gore, and Deerehurst +the sole occupants of the room. After Estcoit had closed the door there +was a faint pause; and in that pause Clodagh was a prey to conflicting +feelings--passionate hope that Deerehurst might see fit to go, +passionate fear that Gore might leave before they could have a word in +private. + +And while her mind swayed between hope and fear, Deerehurst drew +forward a chair, and seated himself beside her. + +"I shall be interested to know what you think of this!" he said, +leaning forward and lifting the book from the arm of her chair, where +she had allowed it to lie untouched. + +She smiled mechanically, though her senses were strained to observe +Gore's attitude. + +"It is very good of you! I am sure--I am sure I shall like it." + +For an instant his cold glance rested curiously on her face; the next, +it fell again to the book. + +"I shall expect you to like it," he said enigmatically. + +"What is the book?" Gore came quietly forward and stood looking down at +them. + +Deerehurst raised his eyes with an expression in which amusement and a +faint contempt were to be read by a close observer. + +"The book?" he said. "Oh, something, I am afraid, that wouldn't +interest you! I don't believe the writer knew anything of far +countries--or even of fishing." He paused, and deliberately turned half +a dozen pages. "He only understood one thing, but that he understood +perfectly." + +Gore laughed. + +"And may a philistine ask what it was?" + +"Oh, certainly! It was love." + +The door opened as he said the word in his high, expressive voice, and +to Clodagh's indescribable relief, Nance entered. + +In the second that she stepped across the threshold her bright eyes +passed from one face to the other, and a rapid process of deduction +took place in her mind. + +"Walter," she said pleasantly, "Pierce says there's one question he +forgot to ask you about Japan. Do you mind if I ask it now?" She walked +to the open window. + +Gore followed her; and Clodagh drew a breath of deep relief. + +Ten minutes passed--ten interminable minutes, in which she strove to +attend to Deerehurst's words, while her ears were strained to follow +the conversation in the window. Then at last relief came. He rose to +go. + +"I must say good-bye!" he said, taking her hand. "I shall await your +verdict on the verses. There is one I want you specially to read--the +last one. Good-bye!" + +She smiled, scarcely hearing what he said; and a moment later he had +bowed to the two in the window, and passed out of the room. + +As the outer door closed, Nance came across to her sister. + +"Do you mind if I run down to Sloane Street, Clo?" she asked. "I never +remembered those lozenges for Aunt Fan, and I can just catch the Irish +mail." + +Without waiting for an answer, she stooped and kissed Clodagh's +forehead; and, turning, passed out of the room. + +After she had left, there was a silence, in which neither Clodagh nor +Gore made any attempt to speak. + +Filled with a nervous sense of something inevitably impending, Clodagh +sat very still. She dreaded to look at Gore, lest she might precipitate +what he was going to say; yet, to her strained mind, suspense appeared +intolerable. She clasped her hands suddenly, with a little catching of +the breath. + +At the faint, yet significant sound, he turned from the window; and +coming quietly across the room, paused behind her chair. + +"Clodagh!" He bent over her, laying his hands gently on her shoulders. +"Clodagh, we talked to-day of the night at Tuffnell--of what you said +that night." + +"Yes." + +Clodagh's throat felt dry. + +"And it was all true--perfectly true?" + +"Yes. Oh, Walter, yes!" + +Gore stood upright, still keeping his hands upon her shoulders. + +"Then I am going to ask a great favour of you. I am going to ask you to +break your friendship--to break your acquaintance--with Deerehurst. I +want you never to have him in your house after to-day. Dearest, believe +me, I know what I am saying!" + +As Clodagh remained silent, he bent over her again. + +"It isn't jealousy, Clodagh. It isn't pique. It is just that I cannot +bear to see the man in your presence, knowing what I know of him." + +"What do you know of him?" Clodagh asked faintly. + +"Nothing that I care to tell you! Be satisfied that I know what I ask +and that I do ask. Give him up! Cease to know him! Cease to have him +here!" In the intensity of his feelings, his fingers pressed her +shoulders. + +"Clodagh, am I asking too much?" + +Quite suddenly, almost hysterically, Clodagh rose; and, turning to him, +caught his hand. + +"No, Walter!" she cried--"no! no! Nothing you could ask would be +too great to grant. I will do what you wish. I will give him +up--_utterly_--entirely--from to-day!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The next morning Clodagh rose imbued with new decision. During Gore's +absence, things had worn a vague, even an impersonal aspect; for, like +all her countrywomen, she possessed a fatally pleasant capacity for +shelving the disagreeable. While Gore was absent, it had seemed so easy +to meet Deerehurst on the footing he elected to maintain--the footing +of calm, reassuring friendship. But now, with Gore's return, the aspect +of affairs had altered. She was forced to look circumstances in the +face--forced to consider her position. She might be a shelver of +difficulties; but, before all things, she was a woman in love; and with +the instinct that such a condition of mind engenders she had +interpreted the look in Gore's eyes when the name of Deerehurst had +been mentioned between them--and had recognised that it was not to be +ignored. + +As she dressed that morning, she mentally surveyed the courses of +action that lay open to her; and with each moment of reflection, it +became plainer to her understanding that only one was worthy of +consideration. However difficult the task, she must make known her +position to Deerehurst, and trust to his generosity to find means of +helping her. + +Her mind was full of this new and somewhat optimistic scheme when she +came into the dining-room, where Nance was already reading her morning +letters. With a slightly absorbed manner she kissed her sister and, +passing round the breakfast-table, picked up her own correspondence. + +In a perfunctory way she turned the envelopes over until one arrested +her attention, as being intimately connected with her thoughts. + +It was a letter from Deerehurst, and she tore it open hastily, skimming +the contents with an eager glance. + + "DEAR LITTLE LADY," it began, + + "Yesterday the fates who watch over my affairs were unkind. The + afternoon was frankly a failure. But I shall claim recompense; I + shall look in upon you in your box at the Apollo at nine to-night. + A vexatious business matter calls me out of town to-day, or I + should strive to see you earlier. But at nine make me welcome. + + "Always devotedly, + + "DEEREHURST." + +She finished reading the note, then laid it down and hurriedly picked +up another letter. How annoying it was! How malicious of Chance! + +The second letter proved to be from Lady Frances Hope; it was from +Brittany, and reproached her extravagantly for not having written since +they parted at Tuffnell. Imploring for news of her movements, it +informed her that the writer, with Mrs. Bathurst and Valentine +Serracauld, was on her way back to London. She followed the lines +mechanically, but her mind was elsewhere. At last she threw the letter +down. + +"Nance!" she said suddenly. + +"Darling?" + +"Nance, I'm in a horrid difficulty." + +Nance's high, arched eyebrows drew together in a frown of concern. + +"Nothing bad?" she said. "Nothing about Walter?" + +"No. Yes--yes it is. You know Walter dislikes Lord Deerehurst. Well, he +was vexed at finding him here yesterday; and after he had gone I--I +promised not to see him any more--I promised to break off my friendship +with him." + +Nance nodded, tactfully refraining from any joy in the proving of her +theories. + +"Yes?" she prompted softly. + +"And now Lord Deerehurst writes that he will be at the Apollo to-night, +and is coming round to our box at nine." + +Nance pursed up her lips. + +"Oh!" she said. "And you'll have to put him off?" + +"That's the annoying thing. I can't. At least, not easily." + +"Why?" + +"Because he's going into the country to-day, and won't be back till +evening." + +"Send him a note. He must go home to dress before going to the +theatre." + +"He might dress and dine at his club." + +"Write to his club as well." + +Clodagh's perplexity showed itself in annoyance. + +"How absurd you are, Nance! Fancy writing a man two letters asking him +not to see you, and giving no explanation! It would simply bring him +round here at ten to-morrow morning." + +She poured herself out a cup of tea and drank it hastily. + +"Life is a hateful tangle!" she said. + +"No it isn't, darling, if you only had a little patience." + +Clodagh made a very impatient gesture. + +"You don't understand!" + +"I understand one thing--that you care for Walter." + +Clodagh looked up, her mutable face lit by a sudden change of +expression--a sudden look of almost passionate seriousness. + +"Yes, I do care for Walter," she said suddenly; "I care so much that I +honestly and truly believe it would kill me if anything came between +us. I have had lots of things in my life--pleasure, excitement, +admiration--but I have never had happiness until now. And I won't lose +it!--I can't lose it!" + +The words poured forth in vehement sincerity; then, as she saw the +expression on Nance's face, she gave a little laugh and put out her +hand across the table. + +"Dearest! I frightened you! Of course everything comes right, if one +has a little patience. Let's begin breakfast properly! My head aches." + +With another laugh, she pressed Nance's fingers, gathered up her +scattered correspondence, and poured herself out another cup of tea. + + +Nance spent a long morning with her future mother-in-law, lunching with +her afterwards at her hotel. Clodagh, left to herself, ordered her +horse for eleven o'clock; and after two hours of recklessly swift +riding in the Row, lunched alone at her club. After lunch she wrote two +telegrams--one addressed to Deerehurst's London house, the other to the +club he most frequented; these she handed in herself at a telegraph +office, and having despatched them, drove straight home. + +At four o'clock Nance returned to the flat, to be met by the +announcement that her sister had a bad headache and had gone to her own +room. Full of concern, she flew along the corridor and knocked on +Clodagh's door. + +In a very low voice Clodagh gave her leave to enter. + +She opened the door swiftly; then paused, alarmed. The blinds were +drawn, and by the subdued light she saw Clodagh lying on a couch near +one of the windows. + +"Why, Clo! What's the matter?" + +She ran forward and dropped on her knees by the couch. + +Clodagh extended two rather cold hands, and took possession of Nance's +warm ones. + +"Nothing but a wretched headache! It will go, if I lie down all the +afternoon and keep quiet to-night." + +Nance looked up. + +"But how can you--at the play?" + +"I'm not going to the play." + +"Not going?" + +Clodagh drew her sister closer. + +"Now, darling, don't make a fuss! If you say one word of objection, my +head will get ten times worse than it is. You are just to listen, and +do as I tell you. You are to telephone to Mrs. Estcoit and explain what +has happened. She will do the chaperoning instead of me." + +"But Walter----" + +"Walter is to go with you. You are to be as nice to him as you possibly +can be. Everything is to be exactly as we arranged--_exactly_ as we +arranged." + +She raised herself on her elbow to enforce the words. + +"And what about Lord Deerehurst?" + +Clodagh did not answer immediately; then, sinking back among her +pillows, she spoke in a somewhat hurried voice. + +"That will be all right; I--I took your advice and sent him two +messages, one to Carlton House Terrace and one to his club. He won't be +at the theatre." + +"But if he doesn't get the message? If he comes all the same?" + +"Then be polite to him. And now go, like a good child. Don't ask any +more questions. Don't say anything. Let me see you when you're dressed, +and I'll give you a letter for Walter. I'm afraid I can't dine with +you; I'll just have something sent in here." Then, as if in sudden +remorse, she put her arms about Nance's neck and drew her close to her. + +"Darling, forgive me, if I seem impossible!" + + +At half-past eight Nance left the house, having shown herself to her +sister, made a last loving inquiry as to her health, and taken +possession of the note for Gore. + +As she passed out of the bedroom, Clodagh threw off the fur rug that +lay across her feet, and sat up with an expression of sharp attention. +As the sound of the closing hall door reached her ears, she drew a +little breath of excitement and rose from the couch with no appearance +of her recent indisposition. + +Without calling in Simonetta, she changed from the white silk wrapper +she was wearing into a black walking-dress, and crossing to one of the +wardrobes took out a black hat and veil. + +She scarcely looked at herself, as she smoothed her hair and fastened +on her hat. Beneath the enforced repression of the afternoon, there +burned in her mind a certain sense of adventure--of enterprise--that +turned her hot and cold. For though the Irish nature may procrastinate, +it takes action with a very keen zest when once circumstance has +compelled a decisive step. + +Having finished her dressing, she picked up a pair of gloves, switched +off the electric light, and left the room. In the corridor outside she +met one of the maids; but without giving the woman time to show any +surprise, she made haste to offer an explanation. + +"I have forgotten to tell Miss Asshlin something of importance," she +said. "I shall have to drive to the theatre and see her. Please ring +for the lift. The porter will find me a cab." And without waiting to +observe the effect of the somewhat disjointed statement, she passed to +the hall door. + +A few minutes later the hall porter had put her into a hansom, telling +the cabman to drive to the Apollo Theatre. + +While the cab doors were being closed, and the order given, Clodagh sat +very still; and for a few minutes after they had started, she lay back +in her seat, watching the familiar succession of lights and trees and +indistinct massed faces that form the nightly picture between +Knightsbridge and Piccadilly; but at last, as Hyde Park Corner loomed +into view, she sat upright, and raising her hand, shook the roof trap. + +The cabman checked the pace of his horse and, opening the little door, +looked down. + +"Don't mind the Apollo," she said. "Drive to Carlton House Terrace +instead." + +The man muttered an assent, and, wheeling his horse to the right, cut +across the traffic. + +Five or six minutes passed while the cab threaded its way across the +Green Park, past Buckingham Palace into St. James's Park; then Clodagh +gained her first close view of Deerehurst's town house. For one moment +she felt daunted by the unfamiliarity of its aspect; but the next, she +rallied her determination, and, stepping from the cab, paid her fare +and walked resolutely across the pavement to the imposing door. + +It was opened at once by a servant in very sombre and decorous livery; +who, having thrown the door wide, looked at her, then looked at the +cab, just wheeling away from the kerb. There was nothing uncivil in the +man's glance--nothing that one could reasonably complain of--yet, to +her intense annoyance, Clodagh coloured. + +"Is Lord Deerehurst at home?" she asked. + +The servant's eyes left the retreating cab. + +"Have you an appointment with his lordship?" + +"If he is in, Lord Deerehurst will see me. I am Mrs. Milbanke." + +At the coldness of her tone, and her ready mention of her name, his +manner changed, though a flicker of curiosity passed across his face. + +"Are you the lady his lordship is expecting?" he said, in a different +voice. + +"Yes, Lord Deerehurst is expecting me." + +There was a slight pause; then, with the air of one who admits a novice +into inner mysteries, he stepped back, ushering her up into the +spacious hall. + +"Will you kindly step this way?" he said. "His lordship is in his +study." + +Glad that the ordeal of entering the house was over, Clodagh readily +followed the man across the hall, up a wide stairs, and along a softly +carpeted corridor. At the end of the passage he paused in front of a +curtained door, and, pushing the curtain back, entered an unseen room. + +"The lady your lordship is expecting!" she heard him say. + +Then he turned quickly and threw the door open for her. An instant +later, she had entered Deerehurst's room. + +At the moment, her thoughts were too confused to permit of detailed +observation of the room; although afterwards, when the interview had +taken place, and she had time to sift reality from imagination, the +scene and its central figure were destined to stand out with the +accuracy of a picture that has made an indelible, if an unconscious, +impression upon the observer's mind. + +The room was an anomaly, viewed from a studious point of view; but the +merely artistic eye would have found nothing to cavil at. It was not +large, as one counts rooms in a great London house, though elsewhere it +would have seemed spacious. Numberless books in costly bindings were +strewn about on tables and in cases, but they were not the books of the +thinker. They were the romances, the memoirs, the poems of the last +half-century, but not one volume dealt with science, or even with +philosophy. The walls were panelled in dark red; some beautiful lamps +hung from the ceiling; and in a distant corner a large silver bowl full +of crimson roses was set up, as if in homage to beauty, before an +exquisitely modelled statue of Venus. + +In a quick, half-comprehended flash of instinct, it came to Clodagh +that she had never really seen Deerehurst until now, as he stood +backgrounded by the atmosphere he himself had created. He was dressed +as he had been on the night in Venice when she had first seen him. He +wore the curiously cut evening clothes that he always affected, and +which gave to his appearance the peculiar distinction that set him +apart from other men; the diamond ring that she had noticed on that +first night glittered on his hand; and, as then, the black ribbon of +his eyeglass showed across his shirt front. But more clearly than in +the dusk of the Venetian night she saw the long outline of his face, +the peculiar artificial pallor of his skin, the cold vigilance of his +eyes. And in that moment of entry a faint, indescribable hesitancy +chilled her resolution. Involuntarily she halted on the threshold of +the room. + +But Deerehurst gave no time for her indecision to mature. As the door +closed upon the servant, he came quickly forward and took the hand she +mechanically offered him. + +For one moment he held her fingers closely; then he lifted them and, +before she could anticipate the action, pressed them to his lips. + +That a man should kiss a woman's hand by way of greeting is not +necessarily a significant thing. It may be a slightly ostentatious +act--but it may be nothing more. Uncertain how to construe the +movement, Clodagh gave a faint laugh and withdrew her fingers. + +"Were you very much surprised to get my wire?" + +She moved away from him into the middle of the room. Now that she put +it to the test, the interview seemed infinitely more difficult than +when contemplated from a distance. She felt nervous and ill at ease. + +Watching her with his close, attentive look, Deerehurst drew forward a +chair. + +"Sit down, little lady!" he said in his thin, impassive voice. + +Reassured by the formality of the action, she took the proffered seat. + +"Now take off your gloves. We shall feel more at home." + +Again she gave a little laugh. + +"My gloves! But I must go in five minutes." + +"In five minutes? When the night is so young?" He drew forward another +chair, and sat down beside her. + +"Do you know how glad and proud I feel?" + +She looked up quickly. His tone had subtly changed. + +"Lord Deerehurst," she said, "I must explain that the reason I +came--the reason I came, instead of sending for you or writing----" + +Deerehurst leant forward and laid his cold hands over hers. + +"Let me take these off! It feels so very formal and unlike ourselves." + +He began softly to open the buttons of her glove and draw it deftly +from her hand. + +"But you haven't listened to what I said," she objected. "I want to +explain at once, so that you can understand at once----" + +Before answering, he drew off the second glove and laid the two upon +the table. + +"Why should you explain? Have I ever been lacking in imagination?" + +"No--oh no; I did not mean that!" + +"Then why explain anything? Don't you think we have fenced with each +other long enough?" He picked up the gloves quickly, and again laid +them down. "Don't you think I can understand without explanation?" + +"Understand?" + +"Why you came to me to-night." + +"Understand--why I came to-night?" + +"I think so." + +He turned and looked straight into her eyes. + +At the look and the movement the blood leaped to her face; she drew +back into her chair. + +"And why do you think I came to-night?" + +Very swiftly Deerehurst bent forward. + +"I think, little lady, that you came because you know that a man cannot +be played with for ever. And because, being a very proud woman, you +will not say in so many words, 'I give you leave to love me!' Dear +little Clodagh!" He suddenly put out his hand towards hers. "It has all +been very delightful--your reticence and your innocence. But we both +know that such pretty things are perishable." + +Clodagh sat perfectly still. She did not attempt to withdraw her hand; +she did not attempt to rise. She sat watching him as if fascinated, +while a hundred recollections of looks, of words, of insinuations +directed against her and him by Lady Frances Hope--by Rose Bathurst--by +other women of their set--strayed in nightmare fashion across her mind. + +Deerehurst sat watching her, his hand holding hers, his eyes steadily +reading her face. Then suddenly he gave a short laugh and leant back in +his chair. + +"Little actress!" he said. + +The words, but more than the words the tone in which they were spoken, +roused her. She rose incontinently to her feet, a sudden memory of +Serracauld and the card-room at Tuffnell sweeping across her mind. + +"Lord Deerehurst," she said breathlessly, "there is some terrible +mistake. You utterly, utterly misunderstand." + +It was Deerehurst's turn to show emotion. For the first time in her +knowledge of him, the mask of impassivity dropped from his face; his +cold eyes gleamed unpleasantly. + +"And how, little lady? I am not often accused of misreading men--and +women." + +"You think----" She paused, unable to find the words she needed. She +felt like one who has inadvertently stepped upon shifting sands, where +the ground had seemed most secure. + +"You think----" she began again. + +But she got no further. With a silent movement, Deerehurst laid his +hand upon her arm. + +"Don't you think we have fenced long enough? Don't you think I have +been extraordinarily patient?" + +Clodagh turned very cold. + +"Patient?" she said indistinctly. + +He drew her suddenly closer to him; and before she could resist, he had +kissed her hair, her lips, her neck. + +"Yes, patient, because I have never before asked for this. Because I +have been content to kiss your hand, when I might long ago----" He bent +over her again. But something in the white face and wild eyes that +confronted him arrested him. He drew back and looked at her. + +"Come!" he said. "The play is over! Give me a kiss of your own accord." + +Clodagh said nothing. Terror mastered her. + +"Come! Give me a kiss!" + +She lay almost passive in his embrace, her lips parted, her eyes fixed +on his. + +He gave another short laugh, half indulgent, half triumphant. + +"What a little saint! Come! Show me why you came to me to-night! Be +human! Be what you know you are!" + +Clodagh made no answer; but he felt her sway a little in his arms. + +"What is it?" he asked sharply. Selfish annoyance was written on his +face, though he asked the question solicitously. + +"I feel faint," she said--"a little faint." + +"Faint? Nonsense! It will pass. Rest for a moment." Without ceremony, +he half lifted her across the room to a couch that stood between the +fireplace and the door. + +"Poor little girl! Don't be frightened! It will pass in a minute. Is +there anything you would like?" + +Clodagh opened her eyes. + +"A little water, I think," she said in a tremulous voice. + +His face cleared. + +"Or some champagne! Nothing would pick you up like a glass of +champagne. Why did I not think of it before? Lie perfectly still! We +will have some champagne in one moment." + +With the possibilities held out by the idea he turned eagerly from the +couch, and crossed the room to the electric bell that was placed beside +his desk. + +But, quick as lightning, the instant his back was turned, Clodagh was +on her feet. With a movement so swift and silent that only fear could +have inspired it, she slipped to the door, opened it, and was speeding +down the long corridor to the stairs. + +The house was silent. The upper portion seemed darker than when she had +arrived. The hall alone lay brightly lighted--a place of hope and +promise, figuring the world outside--the good wholesome world lying +suddenly within her reach. + +She ran down the broad stairs, indifferent to the fact that the servant +who had admitted her had risen from a seat near the door, and was +looking at her in frank surprise. Her ears were strained to catch any +sound from upstairs, her eyes were on the door. + +As she hurried across the hall, the man came forward. + +"Do you require a cab, madam?" he asked a little doubtfully. + +"No. Just open the door!" + +Still with a shade of uncertainty he obeyed, and at the same instant +Deerehurst's voice sounded from the head of the stairs. + +What he said--whether he addressed her or the servant--Clodagh never +knew. At the mere sound of his high, thin tones she went blindly +forward through the open door. + +As she passed down the steps, a cab wheeled round the corner of Carlton +House Terrace. Instinctively she looked towards it, still animated by +the desire for flight. But the next instant she looked away again, +realising that it already held a fare, and that there was luggage on +the roof. + +In the perturbation of the moment she failed to see, what was +infinitely more material, that the occupant of the cab was Valentine +Serracauld; that he had leant forward in sudden, eager curiosity as she +passed down the steps of the house to which he was driving; and that, +as she turned her head in his direction, he had drawn quickly back into +the shadow of his seat. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Almost immediately a second cab appeared, and, finding it at her +disposal, Clodagh hailed it eagerly and gave the address of the flat. + +As the horse sped away in the direction of her home, she sat almost +motionless, her only gesture being to lift her hands to her eyes from +time to time, as if to shut out some near and unpleasant vision. Life +in its crudest, its most repulsive aspect stared at her out of the +darkness. She sat crushed by the disillusionment of the last hour. + +And a new furtiveness--born of the new realisation--assailed her when +at last she stepped from the cab at her own door. With an instinctive +lessening of her natural fearlessness, she hurried through the +vestibule and passed straight to the lift. Gaining her own door, she +let herself in by her latch-key, and then paused, looking fearfully and +eagerly about, in expectation of some unwished-for sound. But +everything in the flat was still; and crossing the hall, she entered +her own room. The electric light had been switched on and the place set +in order, and Simonetta sat at the dressing-table, mending a piece of +lace. + +"No one has come back?" Clodagh asked. + +"No one, signora." Simonetta arose and turned to her mistress. + +Seeing the expression on her face, Clodagh nervously anticipated her +words. + +"My head still aches," she said. "I think you may go. I should like to +be alone." + +From previous knowledge of her moods, the woman made no protestations, +but folded up her work and went quietly towards the door. + +As she gained it, Clodagh turned. + +"Simonetta!" + +"Yes, signora?" + +"Tell the servants they are to say nothing to any one of my having gone +out to-night. You understand." + +"I understand, signora." + +"That is all--good-night!" + +"Good-night, signora!" + +It would be futile to relate the thoughts that passed through Clodagh's +mind in the hour that followed Simonetta's departure; but when, at +half-past eleven, Nance returned from the theatre, and, hurrying to the +bedroom, opened the door swiftly and anxiously, she was standing by one +of the open windows, her hat and veil still on, her gaze fixed +resolutely on the shadowy trees of the park. + +Crossing the threshold softly, Nance tip-toed into the room. + +"Clo," she whispered, "'how are you? Better?" Then she paused in +pleased surprise. + +"What? You've been out? Then you _are_ better. How glad Walter will be! +He insisted on coming back to know how you were." + +At Gore's name, Clodagh started and looked round. + +"Walter here?" she said. + +"Yes; but, Clo! what's the matter? You've been crying." + +Clodagh stepped to her side and laid her hand imperatively on her arm. + +"Hush!" she whispered. "Go back at once and tell Walter that I'm--that +I'm asleep. Tell him that Simonetta said I was better and fell asleep. +Tell him anything you can think of that will make him happy and get him +away. He must be got away. I can't see him. Do you understand, Nance? +He must be got away." + +For one surprised moment Nance looked at her sister; then conquering +her curiosity, she turned quietly and moved to the door. + +"All right, darling!" she said reassuringly; "I'll send him away +happy." + +Clodagh put her hand across her eyes. + +"Thank God!" she said. "If you had asked me one more question I +couldn't have borne it. Send him away, and then come back." + +In silence Nance left the room. Five minutes passed--ten minutes; then +Clodagh's straining ears caught the closing of the outer door, and her +hand dropped to her side in a gesture of excessive relief. + +"Thank God!" she said again. + +When Nance re-entered, she was still standing in the middle of the +room, her face white and tear-stained, her figure braced. + +"Nance," she said, almost before the door had closed upon her sister, +"I am going to tell you things I have never told you before. I feel I +shall go mad to-night, if I don't tell some one. Don't ask me any +questions. Just listen and--if you can--love me!" + +Nance paused just inside the door. Her own face looked pale above the +shimmering blue and silver of her evening dress; her dark blue eyes +were full of a peculiarly tender light. + +"I don't love you, Clo," she said below her breath. "I adore you. Tell +me whatever you like." + +Clodagh threw out her hands despairingly. + +"I'm not worth love like that," she cried. "You'll know it when I've +finished. Do you remember long ago, Nance, when James and I went to +Venice? Do you remember my letters from Venice?" + +Nance showed no surprise at the sudden irrelevant questions. + +"All of them," she answered--"I have them all." + +"Then you remember how I met Frances Hope and Val Serracauld--and Lord +Deerehurst?" + +"I remember." + +"I was very much alone at that time, Nance. James was only a shadow in +my life; and they--they seemed like sunshine, and I wanted the +sunshine. I have always been like a child, turning to bright tawdry +things." + +"Clo! you're upset to-night!--you're ill!" + +"No, I'm not. I've been seeing myself and seeing my life to-night. I +liked these people--I liked these men who talked to me and flattered +me, and ignored the fact that I had a husband--I liked them and +encouraged them. And one night, on the balcony of the Palazza +Ugochini----" She stopped, then made a sudden gesture, as if to sweep +unnecessary things aside. "But I won't talk of that!" she cried. "It is +the later time I want to come to--the time after James's death, when I +met Frances Hope again." She paused to regain her breath; but the look +of determination did not leave her face. Her dark eyes seemed; almost +to challenge Nance's. "When I went to Monte Carlo with Frances," she +went on, "I did not go to forget poor James's death, as you believed; I +went to forget something else that had made me much more unhappy; and +the way I set about forgetting was to gamble. Yes, I know what you +feel!--I know what you think! But it cannot alter anything. I gambled. +I lost large sums of money that Frances advanced me. I _had_ to borrow, +because there were formalities to be gone through about James's will, +before I could draw my income. Then I came back to London; I met Val +Serracauld and Lord Deerehurst again; I took an expensive flat; I lived +like people six times as well off as myself; I gambled again----" + +"Clodagh!" + +Clodagh put up her hand. + +"Wait! It's all leading up to something. I was utterly foolish, utterly +mad. I borrowed again to pay my debts at bridge. Then one day Frances +asked me for her money. It seemed like the end of the world; but it was +a debt of honour--it couldn't be shirked. I wrote her out a cheque that +left me beggared of the half-year's income I had been counting on to +put me straight." + +"Oh, Clo, Clo! Why wasn't I here?" + +"Yes, why wasn't somebody here? But the worst is to come. I did not +know where to look, I did not know where to turn, when suddenly--quite +suddenly--I thought of your thousand pounds----" + +Nance gave a little gasp. + +"I remembered that. And, Nance--Nance, can you guess what happened?" + +Nance did not attempt to answer. + +"I took that thousand pounds. I stole it. Don't say anything! Don't try +to excuse me! I want to face things. I told myself I would write and +tell you; then I told myself I would say it when you came back. But +when you did come"--she halted for a second--"when you did come, Nance, +you loved me, you admired me, you _respected_ me, and--and I couldn't. +When you asked me for the money that night at Tuffnell, I knew I would +have to find it and pay it back without making any confession to you." + +A sound that was almost a moan escaped Nance's lips. + +"Yes!" Clodagh cried--"yes! I know exactly how great a fool I was. But +what is done is done. The day you drove to Wynchley with Lady Diana and +Walter, I stayed behind to write to Mr. Barnard and ask him to advance +me the money. But somehow I couldn't do that, either; and then--hate +me, Nance! hate me, if you like!--Lord Deerehurst came to me when I was +most disheartened, most depressed, and offered to lend me the money." + +"And you took it?" Nance said almost quietly. + +"I took it--yes, I took it. I have always been like +that--always--always; grasping at the easy things, letting the hard +ones slip by. And now!--now!" + +"Now?" + +"Nance, listen!" She took a swift step forward. "It was because of that +loan that I couldn't slight him since we came back to town. You were +right--you were quite right in all you advised; but I couldn't do it. +He had lent me the money. He had seemed my best friend. I felt I +couldn't do it--until yesterday. + +"But yesterday, when he left, and Walter spoke of him, I knew there was +no choice. It was my own happiness or his friendship. And I--I decided +for my own happiness." + +She stopped, and drew a quick, deep breath. + +Nance clasped her hands, fearfully conscious that more was still to +come. + +"When I have a difficult thing to do," Clodagh went on, "I must do it +quickly. I can't wait, I can't prepare and plan, I can't brood over +things. After Walter left yesterday I decided that what must be done +must be done at once. I made up my mind that I would see Lord +Deerehurst to-night; that I would be quite candid with him, explain my +position--and appeal to his generosity to let our friendship end." + +"Then to-night----?" + +"To-night was all a deception. I had no headache--I wasn't ill. I +shammed it all, that I might be alone." + +"And while we were at the theatre you sent for him----?" + +"No! I went to Carlton House Terrace to see him." + +"Went to see him! Clo!" + +"I said you could hate me! Do hate me! Despise me! Think anything +you like! I went to see him; I went to his house--at night, +alone--thinking, believing---- Oh!" She made a gesture of acute +self-disgust. "Nance, need I say it all? Need I?--need I? Can't you +understand without my saying? All that I had imagined about his +friendship was untrue. Such people don't understand friendship. All +along he had been waiting, quietly and silently, like one of those +horrible hawks we used to watch at Orristown--waiting to swoop down +when the right moment came." With an almost hysterical gesture she put +her hand to her throat. + +Nance's face had become very white; but in the intensity of her pity +and love, she did not dare to approach her sister. + +"Clo," she whispered, "you must tell Walter." + +Clodagh's face suddenly flamed. + +"Tell Walter! Tell Walter that I owe Deerehurst a thousand pounds--that +I lied to him and to you all to-night, that I might go alone to +Deerehurst's house! You don't know Walter! There is only one thing in +the world that I can do--that I must do, and that is to go to Ireland +and arrange about raising money on my share of Orristown. It can be +done somehow. Father did it. I shall not eat or sleep or think until +that thousand pounds is paid." + +Prompted by a swift and eager impulse, Nance's face flushed, and she +ran forward. Then almost as she reached her sister's side, her +expression changed. She suddenly curbed her impetuosity. + +"Perhaps it _would_ be a good idea," she said slowly. "When would you +like to go?" + +"To-night if I could! I feel--oh, I feel----!" Clodagh put her hands +over her face. + +Nance stood watching her for a moment longer. Then she slipped softly +to her side, and put one arm about her neck. + +"Don't be sad, darling," she murmured--"don't be sad! You shall go to +Ireland to-morrow, if you like; and all the planning--all the +explaining to Walter and to everybody--will be done by me." + +And so it came to pass, in the extraordinary way with which events +sometimes precipitate themselves, that at four o'clock on the following +afternoon Clodagh was borne swiftly out of Paddington Station on the +first stage of her journey to Ireland. + +The chain of incidents that had been forged by Nance to make this +departure feasible, as well as possible, had been too minute and +complex to make any impression upon Clodagh's mind. Her confession the +night before had been more a confession to herself than a conscious +unburdening of her soul to other ears; and having made it, she was +satisfied to resign herself into any hands that were willing and +capable of guiding her actions. + +The first incident of the morning had been a visit from Gore. But it +had been Nance who had interviewed him first; and a quarter of an hour +later, when Clodagh had come into the drawing-room, nervous and guilty, +she had found him full of sympathy and solicitude for what he believed +to be her sudden recall to Ireland. Then had come the Estcoits; and +with their advent, more solicitude and more sympathy. Lunch time had +crept upon them almost unawares; and--again on Nance's initiative--the +whole party had adjourned to the Hyde Park Hotel, and had partaken of a +meal in company. + +More than once during the crowded hours of the morning, Clodagh had +striven to draw her sister aside; but Nance, animated by an unusual +excitement, had evaded every possibility of a _tete-a-tete_. + +It was only at the door of the railway carriage, when Gore and Estcoit +were superintending the labelling of her luggage, and Mrs. Estcoit and +Daisy were buying books and papers for her amusement, that at last they +had a word in private. Clodagh was standing in the open doorway of the +carriage, and Nance was on the step, when quite suddenly the latter put +up her hand and pressed a letter between her sister's fingers. + +"My proper good-bye is in this letter, darling," she said. "I couldn't +say it before everybody. Kiss me, will you?" + +Impulsively Clodagh bent forward, and the sisters exchanged a long +kiss. + +"You have been an angel, Nance! I will thank you when--when----" + +"No!--no! There can never be thanks between you and me. We are one. +Remember that always! Always, Clo--always!" + +She drew back quickly, as the rest of the party came hurrying to the +carriage. + +And so the good-byes had all been said, and the train had steamed out +of the station; she had watched the platform melt into obscurity, and +then had dropped into her seat with that sense of quiet--of +flatness--that follows the moments of parting. + +The long railway journey and the night crossing to Ireland still lay +between her and action. She looked impatiently at her travelling +companions, an uninteresting brother and sister who had already buried +themselves behind newspapers in their respective corners of the +carriage, and almost angrily she turned to the heap of magazines lying +beside her; but as she did so, her glance brightened. Nance's letter +was still to be read! + +In the midst of her perplexities, a tender thought flashed over her +mind as she opened the envelope, and her face softened instinctively as +she began to read. But gradually, as her glance passed from one line to +another, her expression changed, she sat upright in her seat, her +bearing altered in a sudden, inexplicable manner. + + "DARLING, DARLING CLO!" the letter began, + + "I must have seemed a wretch last night and to-day! I mean I must + have seemed very strange, showing hardly any surprise or sympathy + at anything you told me, and taking your going to Ireland as though + it were a thing that happened every day. But, Clo, it wasn't + because I didn't love and worship you, and feel for you in every + tiny thing, but because I was afraid you would guess what was + really in my mind--what I was plotting and planning all the time. + + "Clo, I wanted you to go to Ireland because--oh, do forgive me for + even writing it!--I wanted to get you away. + + "Dearest, you are to do no more silly things. At the risk of + hurting you, I am saying this. You used to say long ago that I saw + more than you, because I looked on instead of doing things myself. + Clo, you are _not_ to raise money on Orristown, because you have no + need to do it. Lord Deerehurst has been paid his thousand pounds + and you are free--quite free. + + "My little sister, imagine that my arms are round your neck so + tight that you can't be vexed! When you told me last night that my + thousand pounds really belonged to him, my first thought was to + say--'Well, let's give him back as much of it as we have left!' But + I stopped in time. You were not in the mood last night to take the + most loving favour in the world. You wanted to sacrifice yourself; + so instead of saying what was in my heart, I locked it up closely + and thought about it all night; and before you were awake this + morning, I sent for Pierce and asked him to lend me three hundred + pounds--the three hundred we had spent out of the thousand. + + "Don't say anything, darling! Don't be angry! Don't even think! + Pierce was perfectly sweet; he never asked one question, and at + three o'clock to-day, just after we came back from lunch, I sent + the thousand pounds in notes to Carlton House Terrace, with a card + of yours enclosed. + + "Darling, _don't_ be vexed! Don't question it! It is right, I know. + It was a debt of honour, in the fullest sense. + + "And now, Clo, it's all finished, all done with, all passed, and + you can repay me the money slowly in years and years. Be happy! Oh, + darling, be happy! Go back to Orristown, as I would have you to go + back, with your heart full of all the great, good, true love that + Walter and I have for you. + + "Ride and walk and swim, and be without one care; and in a week or + two, when the hateful thought of last night has been swept away by + the splendid strong sea winds, come back to us, a newer, wiser, + happier Clodagh. + + "Darling, I am, now and always, + + "Your true sister, + + "NANCE." + +Clodagh closed the letter; then suddenly she rose from her seat and +stepped from the carriage into the narrow corridor. + +The engine was swinging forward at great speed; the train itself was +swaying to the swift motion; outside, the pleasant English country +seemed to fly past the long line of windows. For a second, she stood by +the carriage door; then she stepped forward to the open window and, +leaning out, let the strong current of air play upon her face, blowing +back the hair from her temples. + +How good God was! How good the world was! The great machinery of the +train--the great wheels of life--ground out the same sudden song. She +was free! By the unlimited power of love, she had been made free! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +It was eleven o'clock on the day following when Clodagh's train steamed +into the little station of Muskeere. Her boat had arrived in Cork in +the early hours of the morning; but she had only given herself time to +take a hurried breakfast at one of the hotels, before driving to the +railway station. Now that she had set foot in Ireland, the racial love +of home had awakened in her, making the hours leaden until she found +herself at Orristown. + +The great lifting of the spirit that Nance's letter had brought into +being, had not subsided since the moment she had arisen from her seat +in the train, filled with the knowledge that an insupportable burden +had been lifted from her. At Reading she had despatched an answering +telegram to her sister; and for nearly an hour afterwards, she had sat +in the corner of her carriage, covering sheet after sheet of note-paper +with hasty pencilling. Two letters were the result,--one to Nance, all +love, all spontaneous gratitude; the other to Gore, full of tenderness, +of promise, of almost vehement reassurance. + +Thus the long and usually monotonous train journey ran itself out; and +in the confused darkness of the crowded landing-stage, she went on +board the boat at New Milford. + +The crossing of the sea had ever been a delight to Clodagh. The love of +the sea--the almost mystical knowledge of it--was in her blood. And +that night for many hours she had paced the deck, rejoicing after a +fashion understood by few in each forward plunge of the vessel--in the +sense of exhilaration and action conveyed each time the prow dipped to +cut the waves and send the spray flying. + +She was going home! There had seemed a curious, thrilling sensation in +the knowledge. She was going home! After many experiences, she was +returning to the spot where her life had first separated its thread +from the great tapestry of existence--the spot where happiness and +unhappiness had first presented themselves as differentiated +things--where the elemental facts of pain and pleasure had been first +demonstrated to her unformed mind. The memory of Orristown had +materialised, as she had walked to and fro under the summer sky +powdered with faint stars; and she had closed her eyes until the salt +sting of the sea had conjured up the square, white house, the green +fields, and the long, shelving rocks. + +The picture had remained with her long after she retired to her cabin, +and had been still before her mind when the first low line of Irish +land had broken across her vision in the silvery morning. Then it had +been dispersed by more immediate things,--the arrival at Cork--the +breakfast--the drive across the town to the Muskeere train; until at +last the shrill whistle of the small engine, announcing that her +destination was reached, swept everything but the incidents of the +moment from her consideration. + +As the train stopped, she sprang to her feet and leaned out of the +window. How intensely familiar it was!--the narrow platform; the wooden +paling, behind which the incursion of summer visitors to Muskeere +congregated each day to watch the Cork trains arrive; the slovenly, +good-natured porter, absolutely unaltered by the passage of time! + +Her thoughts swam, as she tried vainly to reconcile her own many +experiences with this amazing changelessness. Then all need for such +comparison was brushed aside, as a tall figure came striding down the +platform, followed by a couple of dogs; and she recognised Laurence +Asshlin. + +Her first conscious thought was, "How fine-looking he has grown!" her +second, "How badly his clothes are made!" Then she laughed to herself +from happiness, and from that sense of comradeship and clannishness to +which the Irish nature is so susceptible. + +"Larry!" she cried a moment later, as she threw the carriage door open. + +But her dog Mick was the first to gain her side. Leaping forward at +sound of her voice, he sprang into the carriage, whimpering with joy. + +"Mick!--darling Mick! Oh, you bad thing!" She laughed again +delightedly; then she turned, flushed and radiant, to greet her cousin. + +"Hold him, Larry! That's better! Now, how are you?" She held out her +hand and laid it in Asshlin's disengaged one. + +Larry flushed with excitement and embarrassment. + +"How are you, Clo? You're awfully unchanged! Let me help you out! The +trap is waiting!" + +As in a dream, she passed through the little station that had seemed so +large and imposing to her childish eyes in the time when a day's +shopping in Cork had represented the acme of adventure and enterprise; +but half-way down the narrow platform she paused. + +"Oh, the sea, Larry!" she exclaimed, drawing in a long, deep +breath--"the heavenly smell of the sea!" Then she suddenly caught sight +of Burke, waiting, as he might have waited six years ago, beside the +high, old-fashioned trap. + +"The same trap!" she said, with a little gasp. + +Asshlin laughed. + +"The same, only for a coat of varnish. But won't you speak to Tim?" He +added the last a trifle diffidently, with a shy glance at her costly +clothes and her general air of refinement and distinction. + +Without a word she went forward. + +"Tim!" she said very softly. + +The old man turned quickly; then drew back. + +But Clodagh held out her hand, regardless of the staring summer +visitors. + +"Tim! I'm not so changed that you don't know me?" + +The old man remained motionless. + +"I'd know you if I was under the sod, and the sound of your voice come +anear me," he said almost solemnly. + +Clodagh felt her throat tighten, as the old horny hand was slowly +extended to clasp her own. + +"I'm glad to be home, Tim!" she said impulsively--"I'm glad to be +home!" + +There was a delay of several minutes while the porter extricated her +luggage from the van; and during this interval, she found time to +admire the young horse, which had been bred at Orristown, and to make +friends with the Irish terrier that had been Mick's companion on the +run to Muskeere, besides asking a dozen questions concerning people and +things at Carrigmore. Then at last, the trunk was deposited under the +roomy seat of the trap; and Asshlin stepped forward to help her into +her place. + +"Larry," she said, pausing with her foot on the step, "may I drive? I'd +love to drive." + +Asshlin gave a ready assent, and, taking his own seat, handed her the +reins, while Burke mounted to the back of the trap. + +It was wonderful to Clodagh, that first gathering up of reins rendered +hard by long service and Irish rain--that first forward start into the +strong, sea-scented air. A sudden joy filled her. She was young; the +world was a goodly place, when one studied it in this untainted +atmosphere; above all, she was possessor of the great prize--love. Far +away, in the tumult and press of the greatest city in the world, the +man she set above all others thought of her--waited for her--trusted +her. + +Out of her own bright confidence, she made the sunny morning brighter, +as she drove along the well-remembered roads, halting every mile or so +to gaze at some thrice-familiar object that stood now as it had stood +in the days of her babyhood. + +At last Carrigmore was reached. She saw the clustering pink-and-white +cottages of the village; the sleeping ruins guarded by the Round Tower; +the long, yellow strand and the glassy bay, on whose farther headland +stood the house of Orristown---a square white patch, to be seen for +many miles. She looked at it all long and closely. + +"Oh, Larry," she said, below her breath, "how wonderfully the same it +is! Nance told me, but I couldn't imagine it. Why, there's scarcely a +weed changed!" + +Asshlin laughed a little. + +"We didn't think you'd care much about it, after Italy and places," he +said, with a slight touch of shy awkwardness that seemed more than ever +to link the present with the past. + +"Not care about it? Larry!" Her voice quivered; then she laughed +quickly and touched the horse with the whip. + +"Shall we go straight to Orristown? or shall I run in and see Aunt +Fan?" + +Asshlin looked slightly distressed. + +"You're tired after the journey," he said. "And, anyway, it's one of +her bad days. They come oftener than ever now. To-morrow she'll enjoy +seeing you more." + +A quick recollection of her aunt on her bad days swept over Clodagh's +mind; and she looked up suddenly into Larry's handsome, spirited face. + +"Is she often cross now, Larry?" she asked, as she might have asked +when they were children. + +Asshlin turned at the sound of her voice; his diffidence forsook him; +the old comradeship, the old sense of sympathy and understanding, came +rushing back. + +"She is harder than ever to get on with," he said. "And every day seems +worse than the last. Sometimes----" He stopped; but a shadow of +discontent, of depression, had darkened his face. + +"Poor Larry!" Clodagh said very softly. And without further comment, +she turned the horse's head in the direction of Orristown. + +The cousins spoke rather less during the drive along the low, flat road +lying parallel to the strand; but, despite the silence, each was +conscious of an awakened fellowship; and as they descended the sharp +hill that led to the gates of Orristown, Clodagh pointed with her whip +to where the sky hung low and brooding over the glassy line of the +horizon. + +"This heat will break in a storm, Larry," she said, aware of having +spoken the same words a hundred times in almost the same spot. + +Asshlin scanned the sea thoughtfully. + +"I believe you're right!" he answered. "But a puff of wind would do no +harm. You'd like a scud across the bay, wouldn't you?" + +Clodagh's eyes danced. + +"Love it!" she substituted enthusiastically. "Come for me at ten +to-morrow, Larry, and we'll sail back together to Carrigmore. We'll +have a long day there and see everything; and then you'll come back +with me to dinner." She flashed a quick smile at him, as she piloted +the trap through the rusty gates. + +As they swept up the long, narrow drive, she looked eagerly to right +and left; then suddenly she gave a little laugh of pleasure, and waved +her whip towards a field that skirted the avenue, in which a very old +man had paused in the act of digging potatoes, and now stood in an +attitude of rigid salutation, a broken felt hat held above his head. + +"Look, Larry! It's Pat Foley! Poor old Pat! Isn't it lovely the way +every one remembers?" + +Her eyes filled with sudden tears, as they passed the last clump of +trees and came full upon the old white house; then, as the horse drew +up sharply under the well-remembered iron balcony, she gave a little +cry and threw the reins to Asshlin. + +Hannah had opened the hall door, and stood broad-faced, honest, beaming +as of old. + +"My darlin'!" she cried--"my darlin'!" + +And in an instant, regardless of her dress and of the eyes of Asshlin +and Burke, Clodagh sprang to the ground and rushed into the arms that +had so often sheltered her. + + +At eight o'clock on the same evening, Clodagh, with Mick at her feet, +sat in a shabby leather arm-chair by the open window of the bedroom +that she had shared with Nance for so many years. Outside, the soft +beating of the sea against the rocks came to her ears with strange +familiarity; by her side stood a small table set out with a homely tea; +while in front of her, jealously watchful that she did justice to the +meal, stood Hannah. + +"An' 'tis a millonaire they tells me the child is goin' to marry?" she +asked in one of her tentative, round-about questions. "Glory be to God! +an' she only out of the school!" + +Clodagh glanced through the window at the golden evening sky. + +"You married me before I had been to school, Hannah," she said, below +her breath. + +The old shrewd light gleamed in Hannah's eyes. She moved awkwardly and +yet softly round the tea-table, and laid her broad hand on Clodagh's +shoulder. + +"Many's the day I do be ponderin' on that match, Miss Clodagh," she +said earnestly. "The ways of God are dark; and what I done, I done for +the best." + +Clodagh, touched by the deep solicitude of the voice, put her own +smooth hand over the old rough one. + +"I'm sure God did everything as it should be done, Hannah,--because +it--it has all come right in the end." + +Hannah's hand dropped from her shoulder in sudden excitement. + +"Miss Clodagh!" she said breathlessly--"Miss Clodagh, is it a husband +you'll be thinkin' to take?" + +Again Clodagh's gaze wandered across the sky, melting now from gold to +orange. + +"There is a man who wants to take me for his wife, Hannah," she +corrected, very gently. + +"An' you do be puttin' him before everythin' in the world?" + +Clodagh turned swiftly and met the small, anxious eyes. + +"So much before everything, that if I were to lose him now I should +lose"--she paused for an instant, then added--"myself." + +Hannah's eyes narrowed in the intensity of her concern. + +"An' he do be carin' for you, Miss Clodagh?" + +Clodagh learnt forward; and the warm light from the sunset touched and +transfigured her face. + +"Yes--he cares," she said very slowly. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Late on the afternoon that followed her arrival, Clodagh--with Larry in +attendance--climbed up the uneven path that led from the Orristown +boat-cove to the house. A considerable change had taken place in the +weather since the previous evening. The sky no longer hung low and +motionless above the horizon line; the sea no longer shone white and +polished as a mirror. A gale had sprung up, breaking the clouds and +whipping the sea into small green waves; and more than once, as the +cousins clambered up the rugged track, Asshlin paused to look back at +his small boat, lying with furled sail and shipped oars on the shingle. + +"I hope I've beached her high enough," he said. "There will be a big +sea to-night." + +Clodagh laughed. The prospect of a storm stirred her. She felt +boundlessly happy, boundlessly confident in this free, open life. + +The night before, after Larry had left her, and the first tinge of +twilight had fallen across the old house, there had been a moment in +which the ghosts of memory had threatened to assail her--to come +trooping up the gaunt staircase, and through the great, bare rooms. But +her will had conquered; she had dispelled the phantoms, and had slept +dreamlessly in the big four-post bed. + +In the morning she had awakened, as James Milbanke had awakened long +ago, to a world of light and joy. But with this difference, that to him +the world had been a thing to speculate upon and study, while to her it +was a thing familiar--understood--possessed. While she partook of +breakfast and while she visited the stables, she kept Hannah by her +side, learning from her the vicissitudes of the many humble lives +around Orristown that had been known to her since childhood; then, +before the tales had been half recounted, Larry had arrived in his +boat; and the two cousins, like children playing at a long-loved game, +had gone down together to the boat-cove to where the little craft +flashed its white sail like a seagull in the sun, and danced with +impatience to be off across the crisp green waves. + +Clodagh's first act on landing, at Carrigmore, had been to visit the +little ivy-covered post-office, in the hope that the Orristown letters +might possibly be intercepted. But the postman had already left the +village, and she had no choice but to wait patiently for Gore's first +letter until her return in the evening. But the postponement had not +been sufficient to damp her spirits; and she had started on her various +expeditions with a very light heart. Last of all, had come the visit to +Mrs. Asshlin, who now rarely left her room, but lay all day in the +semi-light made by drawn blinds, drinking numerous cups of strong tea +and keeping up a fitful murmur of complaint. + +With senses that rebelled against the depressing atmosphere, Clodagh +had entered the bedroom and had sat for nearly an hour beside her +aunt's couch, listening with all the patience she could muster to the +oft-repeated tale of discontent and ill-health. Then at last, feeling +that duty could demand no more, she had risen and kissed Mrs. Asshlin's +worn cheek. + +"We must have you over in London, Aunt Fan," she said cheerfully. "We +must take you to a really good doctor, and have you made quite well." + +But Mrs. Asshlin had shaken her head dubiously. + +"I never had faith in really good doctors since Molyneaux came down to +see your poor father." + +To this, there seemed no possible response; so Clodagh had kissed her +aunt once more, and, with a promise that she would return the next day, +had slipped silently out of the gloomy room followed by Larry. Outside, +in the vivid daylight, the cousins had looked at each other +involuntarily. + +"Sometimes life seems awful, Clo!" Asshlin had said, in a despondent +voice. And with a momentary shock, Clodagh had caught a gleam of the +restlessness, the brooding gloom, that used long ago to settle on the +face of her father. + +"Why don't you leave Carrigmore, Larry?" she had said quickly. "It's a +wonderful place to rest in, but it's not the place for the whole of a +man's life." + +Asshlin had made a descriptive gesture, indicating the house behind +him; then, with a sudden impulse of confidence, he had thrust his hand +into his pocket, and had drawn out six five-pound notes. + +"When this represents the whole exchequer of the next three months, +there isn't much question of foreign travel--or fortune-seeking," he +had said. "Come along! The gale is freshening!" + +And Clodagh had obeyed, depressed for the moment by contact with that +hidden poverty of the proud and well-born, that is one of the most +pathetic factors in the scheme of Irish social life. She had longed +ardently to make some suggestion, some offer of help, to this bright, +spirited boy, who was wasting the best years God had given him in +coping with an estate that could never be made to pay, and attending +upon an invalid who hovered perpetually on the borderland of shadows; +but a native comprehension of the position held her dumb. An offer of +help made on the moment of his confidence would set an irrevocable +barrier between them in the very dawning of their renewed friendship. + +So she had talked to him of the crops, of the fishing, of the Orristown +live-stock, while the boat carried them back across the bay. And the +sail homeward under the scudding clouds, while the little boat danced +and dipped to the buffeting of the waves, had erased the passing gloom; +and now, as they climbed the steep pathway and passed across the fields +to the house, Clodagh's heart was beating high in her own egotistical +joy at the mere fact of life. + +She laughed out of sheer pleasure, as they passed round the house and +four or five dogs rushed forth from the hall to greet them; and +stooping impulsively, she drew Mick close to her and kissed his rough +head. + +"Larry, do you remember how you won him from me long ago, and how nobly +you gave him back? I have never forgotten it." She smiled +affectionately at her tall young cousin; and, freeing Mick, led the way +into the house. + +On the shabby hall table, where the silver sconces stood as of old, lay +a small heap of letters; and with an exclamation of pleasure, Clodagh +ran forward and picked them up, passing them hastily in review. + +There was a thick, important-looking one from Nance. And--yes! the +first letter from Gore--the letter she had been waiting for! + +For an instant her face fell. It felt thin and disappointing, as she +held the envelope between her fingers. But almost at once her face +cleared. After all, men had not as much time as women for the writing +of letters! And this had been written on the day of her departure! She +looked at the postmark: "London--10.30." Of course he had only had time +to scribble a line. How good and thoughtful of him even to have sent +that line! She turned and looked at Larry, her face radiant once more. + +"Larry," she said, "will you tell Burke that we'll dine in half an +hour, if Hannah has everything ready? And tell them to have candles in +all the sconces. It is to be a dinner party, you know!" She gave a +pleasant little laugh and turned towards the stairs, closing her +fingers over her letters in a delightful, secret sense of anticipation +and possession. + +Her own room was filled with a cold grey light as she entered it--a +peculiar light drawn from the wind-swept sky and the pale, agitated +waters; and she noticed, as she crossed the threshold, that the wind +roared draughtily down the wide chimney, in a way that suggested autumn +and autumnal gales. But the circumstance made little impression; she +carried her own world in her heart--and here, in the letter Gore had +written. + +In a second impulse of love, she laid the others aside, and opened +Gore's envelope. Drawing out the letter, she held it for a moment +against her face. On this paper his hand had rested when he wrote to +her! There was a sense of personal contact in the mere thought. Then, +at last, with a smile at her own sentiment, she opened it slowly and +smoothed out the pages. + +The written lines--scarcely more than a dozen in number--danced for an +instant before her eyes; then focused themselves with terrible +distinctness. + +There was no formal beginning to the letter; it was merely a statement +made in sharp, uneven characters, as though the sender had written +under great stress--great emotion or resolve. + + "I find," it began, "that you have treated me with an unpardonable + want of honour and want of truth on a matter that concerned me very + deeply--the matter of Deerehurst; and it seems to me, under the + circumstances, only just and right that our engagement should come + to an end. A marriage built upon such a basis could only have one + termination. If this seems hard or abrupt, I can only say that the + knowledge of my mistake has come hardly to me. I shall go abroad + again as soon as I can make my plans. I am glad to think that, as + no one but your sister knew of our engagement, my action can cause + no public comment or unpleasantness for you. + + "WALTER GORE." + +Clodagh read the lines--read and re-read them. For the first time in +her life, her quick brain failed to respond to a first suggestion; +then, at last, as though the cloud that obscured her mind had been rent +asunder, conception of all that the letter conveyed sprang to her +understanding. + +Walter had written this letter! Walter had given her up! Her face +became very white; she swayed a little, looking about her vaguely, as +if for some physical aid; then suddenly revolt took the place of panic. +It was all some horrible mistake. She must go to him--rend the web of +doubt that had divided them--if need be, humble herself, show him the +greatness of her love, until he must condone--must forgive--must +reinstate her in his heart! + +Moving swiftly, she crossed the room to the fireplace, drawing out her +watch as she went. With a good horse, she might still catch the last +train from Muskeere--take the night mail from Cork to Dublin--cross to +Holyhead in the morning, and be back in London to-morrow! + +She lifted her hand to the frayed and tasselled bell-rope that hung +from the ceiling: then, by a strange impulse, her arm dropped to her +side. + +When her journey was accomplished--when she met Gore, what had she to +explain? what had she to confess? The tassel of the bell-rope slipped +from between her fingers. + +The vision of herself pleading with him rose vividly before her,--she, +with her passionate impulsiveness; he, with his grave dignity, his +uncompromising integrity. She recalled the peculiar words he had made +use of on the day he had discovered Deerehurst's gift of flowers. "I +should either believe in you--or disbelieve in you!" His critical +attitude in their first acquaintance started to life at the remembrance +of the words. He, who expected of others what he himself performed--he +who, as Nance had said, was "so honourable himself"--how would he +receive the poor, lame story she had to offer? A horrible, confusing +dread closed in about her. A week ago, she would have gone forth +confidently, to make her confession; but now her faith was less. On the +night in Deerehurst's study she had tasted of the tree of +knowledge--had seen things as men see them; and her fearlessness had +been shaken. + +She looked helplessly round the bare room filled with cold grey light. + +No; Walter would never believe!--Walter would never believe! The +knowledge that she had lied to him even once would stand between them, +condemning her hopelessly. An appalling weight seemed to press her to +the earth. She was cut adrift. She was separated for ever from all +safe, sheltering human things; somewhere in the dim, far regions where +the decrees of fate are made, a knell had been sounded! + +She glanced once more round the bare, familiar room, from the great +four-post bedstead to the long window, beyond which lay the green +fields, the wind-swept sky, and the livid line of the sea; then +suddenly she turned, and fled through the open door and out into the +empty corridor. + +Asshlin was still standing in the hall, as she came downstairs; at the +sound of her approach he looked up, but in the falling twilight he +noticed nothing unusual in her appearance. + +"We've made a great illumination!" he said--"quite a blaze of light!" + +Clodagh made no answer; but descending the stairs quickly, passed into +the dining-room. + +As on the night years ago, when Milbanke had come to Orristown, the old +room was prepared to do honour to a guest. The tablecloth was laid, +places were set for two, and the great silver sconces were filled with +candles that glowed so brightly that even the dark portraits on the +walls were thrown into relief. But no fire blazed in the wide grate as +on the former occasion, and the curtains of the three long windows were +drawn back, admitting the light from the stormy evening sky. + +Clodagh's first glance, as she entered the room, was for these windows, +and her first words concerned them. + +"Larry, draw the curtains!" she said. + +To her own ears, her voice seemed to come from some distant place--to +sound infinitely thin and far away; but Asshlin seemed to observe +nothing. He went forward obediently and drew the six long curtains. + +As the last was pulled into place Burke entered, and carefully laid two +dishes upon the table. A moment later Clodagh took her seat. + +"What will you eat, Larry?" she said hurriedly. "Chicken? Ham?" + +Asshlin turned to her, as he in his turn took his place. + +"What will _you_ have?" he said. + +"I? Oh--anything! But talk, Larry! Tell me things! Let's--let's be +gay!" + +Asshlin was busy cutting up the chicken. He did not hear the faintly +hysterical note that underran her voice--the note of warning from a +mind trying with panic-stricken haste to evade itself. + +He helped her to some chicken; and Burke, laying the plate before her, +went in search of wine. + +She toyed for a moment or two with the food, making pretence to eat. + +At last Larry looked at her. + +"You're eating nothing. Aren't you hungry?" + +She started nervously. + +"No; I'm not hungry. I--I had a glass of milk in my room. I couldn't +wait for dinner." She tried to laugh, as she told the falsehood. + +He accepted the explanation. + +"Then you must have a glass of wine now!" he said genially, as Burke +re-entered with a dusty bottle of port. "Give me the bottle, Burke!" + +He took it from the old man's hands, and poured some wine into +Clodagh's glass; and as he leant forward, he suddenly saw by the light +of the candles that her eyes were wide and black, her face very white. + +"Clo, you're not feeling ill?" he asked, in quick concern. + +Clodagh put her hand to her face with a startled gesture. + +"No! Do I look ill? It's the storm. The storm has got on my nerves. We +develop nerves in London, you know!" Again she attempted to laugh. + +Once more Asshlin accepted her explanation, as something he had no +authority to question. + +"I want you to talk, Larry!" she added hurriedly. "I want you to talk. +Say anything! Take me out of myself!" + +She raised her glass to her lips and drank some of the wine. It brought +a faint tinge of colour to her cheeks, but only increased the bright +darkness of her eyes. + +While Asshlin consumed his dinner, she sat very upright in her chair, +sipping her wine from time to time or breaking small mouthfuls from her +bread. + +At last, having hovered anxiously about her, Burke made bold to speak +his thoughts. + +"Is it the way the chicken isn't nice, ma'am?" he ventured. + +She started, as she had started each time she had been directly +addressed. + +"No, Burke! Oh no!" she said hastily. "The chicken is very nice. It's +only that the storm has--has given me a headache." + +Burke shook his head sympathetically, as a sudden gale swept round the +house. + +"'Tis lookin' for a bad night, sure enough!" he said, as he passed +round the table with the next course. + +When the pudding had been served and partaken of by Asshlin, Clodagh at +last pushed back her chair, and with a curiously unstrung movement +walked across the room to the fireplace. + +"Larry," she said suddenly, "will you play cards with me when Burke +takes the things away?" + +Asshlin looked up with interest. + +"By Jove!" he said, "what a good idea!" + +When Burke reappeared, solemnly carrying some cheese, Clodagh turned to +him quickly. + +"Is there a pack of cards in the house, Tim?" she asked. + +He glanced at her white face and upright figure, but his expression +betrayed nothing. + +"I do be thinkin' there's a deck some place, if I could lay me mind on +it." + +Asshlin leant across the table. + +"There's a pack in the drawer of the side-board." + +Burke crossed the room, but not over-eagerly; and, opening the drawer, +produced the cards. + +"'Tis the deck poor Misther Dinis got from Cork the self-same day----" +he began. Then he stopped considerately; and added under his breath, +"The Almighty God be good to us all!" + +Clodagh took the cards from him, and stood very still, fingering them +nervously. At any other time, the thought of playing with cards that +belonged to the dead would have filled her with repugnance; but +to-night all ordinary standards had been lost--all the world was chaos. +She was like one who is slipping down into a bottomless abyss, and +stretches desperate hands towards any straw that might offer respite. + +She never changed her position while the table was being cleared; her +only sign of emotion still being shown by the spasmodic way in which +she passed the cards between her fingers. When at last the cloth had +been removed and the candles replaced, she came quickly across the room +and stood looking down upon her cousin. + +She still mechanically shuffled the cards; but her glance, as it rested +on Asshlin, was unconscious and absorbed, seeing only its own mental +pictures. + +"What shall we play, Larry? What game can two people play?" + +Asshlin looked up. + +"Piquet," he said, "or euchre." + +She nodded. + +"Euchre! Yes, euchre!" She drew a chair up to the table and sat down. +"What stakes?" + +Asshlin looked uncertain. + +"You say!" he suggested a little diffidently. + +She gave a nervous start, as a fresh gale shook the windows. + +"Thirty shillings a game? Twenty shillings a game?" + +For an instant he looked at her amazed; but seeing the unconsciousness +of her expression, his breeding forbade him to offer any objection. +With a reckless excitement he had never before had opportunity to feel, +he leant back in his chair, and taking up the glass Burke had set +beside him, poured out some port and drank it. + +"Thirty shillings a game!" he said magnificently. + +Clodagh did not seem to hear; certainly she saw nothing of his scruple +and his yielding. Her own thoughts rode and spurred her, pressing her +forward in a wild, panic-stricken search for oblivion. + +"Come, Larry! Play!--play! I feel"--she paused and laughed +hysterically--"I feel that, if I were a man to-night, I should drink +all the port in that bottle! I want to forget everything. Play!--play!" + +Asshlin picked up the cards that she had laid upon the table. He could +not understand her in this new mood; but he was satisfied not to +understand her. He felt stimulated--lifted above himself--as he had +never been before. + +For two hours they played, with luck evenly balanced; then Asshlin made +a reluctant attempt to draw out his watch. + +"Did you hear that?" he said, as the wind roared up from the sea like +an invading army. "I ought to be getting home. She'll be worrying about +me." + +He spoke firmly enough, but his eyes wandered back to the cards. + +Clodagh rose, and, crossing to the sideboard, poured some water into a +glass and drank it. + +"No! no!" she said eagerly. "It's quite early. It's only eleven. She +won't expect you yet." + +He put his watch back into his pocket; Clodagh returned to her place at +the table; and the play went on. + +By twelve o'clock a change had come in their positions. Fortune was no +longer impartial; and Clodagh stood the winner by several games. Again +Asshlin made a movement towards departure. His face was flushed now, +and a look of alarm had begun to mingle with his excitement. + +"I--I ought to be going now, Clo," he said a little huskily. + +Clodagh gave a sharp laugh. At last it seemed to her that she was +drowning thought--holding at bay the black sense of loss and agony that +threatened to inundate her soul. She threw up her head, and her eyes +challenged her cousin's. + +"You are a coward if you go now, Larry! You are afraid to take your +revenge!" + +He coloured like a girl, and gave a half-angry, half-embarrassed laugh. + +"Don't say that, Clo!" + +"Then will you play?" + +"I--I oughtn't to." + +Again Clodagh laughed--a laugh so nervous and high-pitched that it rang +almost harshly across the room. + +"Then you're not an Asshlin!" + +"Am I not?" He tilted his chair forward, and leaned upon the table. +"Let's see! Come along! I'm game for anything after that!" + +There was a new note in his voice--a fiery note, that seemed to +challenge fate and throw reason to the winds. + +It stirred some latent power in Clodagh's brain. A faint colour crossed +the pallor of her face; she half rose from her seat. + +"Shall we 'play like the devil,' as father used to say?" + +Asshlin threw up his head. It was as if flint and steel had struck--the +spark followed inevitably. + +"Yes!" he cried; "we'll play like the devil!" + + +At one o'clock they rose from the table. Clodagh's face was white +again; but Asshlin's was deeply flushed; and as he stood up, +confronting his cousin, it almost seemed that he had drunk more than +the two glasses of port to which the bottle testified. + +"I must go now, Clo," he said. "May I ring for Burke to get me a +lantern?" + +Clodagh took a step forward. + +"Stay the night, Larry? You can have father's room." + +He shook his head and crossed to the fireplace. + +"I owe you forty pounds," he said in an unsteady voice. "I'll leave +thirty here"--he drew out the notes he had shown her at Carrigmore, and +laid them under the clock on the mantelpiece--"the other ten I'll--I'll +give you to-morrow." + +But Clodagh scarcely heard. + +"Do stay! Oh, do stay!" + +Again he shook his head, and pulled the bell-rope. + +"I've put the notes here--under the clock." + +"All right!--all right! But, Larry, can't you stay? It's a horrible +night." + +"I can't!" Then, as the door opened and Burke appeared, he turned to +him hastily: "Burke, bring me a lantern. I want to get the boat out." + +At last Clodagh's mind was torn from its own concerns. + +"The boat! You're not going to cross the bay on a night like this?" + +Old Burke came forward, looking from one to the other. + +"Wisha, Masther Larry, is it crazy you are?" + +Asshlin turned his flushed face on the old servant. + +"We're all a bit crazy now and then, Tim. But I was never afraid of the +sea. Get me the lantern!" + +Still Burke hesitated. But suddenly Asshlin stepped forward, with a +look so full of pride and domination, that by instinct he succumbed. + +"As quick as you can, Burke!" + +And the old man hobbled off. + +There was silence between the cousins after he had gone. Asshlin leaned +upon the mantelpiece, with his face averted; Clodagh walked nervously +about the room, changing the arrangement of the silver on the +sideboard, snuffing the candles that had begun to gutter, doing any +aimless and unnecessary thing that could blur her sense of impending +solitude. At last she paused in the middle of the room. + +"Larry----" she began desperately. + +But at the same instant Burke's step sounded in the hall, and his voice +came to them through the open door. + +"The lanthern is here, Masther Larry!" + +Asshlin started. + +"All right! I'm coming!" he called. "Good-night, Clo!" He walked +forward almost awkwardly, and took her cold hand. + +She looked up into his face, her own misery blotting out all other +things. + +"Larry! can't you stay?" + +Asshlin passed his hand across his forehead. + +"Don't ask me, Clo! Good-night!" + +An instant later he was gone. + +She ran out into the hall on the moment that she realised her +desertion. + +"Larry!" she called--"Larry!" + +But her voice was drowned in the gale, as Burke opened the hall door +and the wind rushed in, filling the wide black hall. There was a +confused suggestion of storm and lantern-light; a vague silhouetted +vision of Burke, bent and small, and of Asshlin, straight, lithe, and +tall. Then the door closed with a thud. Lantern, figures, and storm +were alike shut out from her knowledge. She was alone in the great +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Almost at the same hour that Clodagh sat down to play cards with +Laurence Asshlin at Orristown, Nance was seated with Daisy Estcoit in +the lounge of the Carlton. After her sister's departure, Mrs. Estcoit +had borne her off to be her guest at the hotel; and now, the little +party of four having dined in the restaurant, she had gone to her room +to discuss a business letter with her son, leaving the two girls +ensconced under one of the big palm-trees. + +It was very pleasant and interesting to sit there, and watch the groups +seated on the low couches beside the little coffee-tables, or to study +the throng of people that moved constantly through the large glass +doors of the vestibule, and up the flight of shallow steps to the +restaurant itself, with its shaded lights and pretty artificial garden. +The crowd was unusually large for the time of year: the band was +playing a waltz: the whole atmosphere seemed gay and happy to one who +only that morning had performed a great act of love. + +"How lovely life is, Daisy!" Nance said suddenly, unconsciously echoing +Clodagh's words on the day of Gore's return to London. + +Daisy Estcoit laughed. + +"Of course it is--with a trousseau like yours! But look over there--by +the big palm!" + +Nance had bent to rearrange some roses in her belt. + +"Where? What?" she said, glancing up. + +"Don't you see?" + +"No. What?" + +"Sir Walter Gore. He just rushed through and into the restaurant. He +seems in tremendous haste." + +"Walter! Where?" Nance looked round eagerly. + +"I've just told you. In the restaurant. But here he is back again! He +must have been looking for some one." + +Nance rose from the quiet corner in which they were sitting, and +stepped forward to greet Gore; but, as he came towards her down the +flight of shallow steps, her smile of welcome died, and a look of +surprise and concern crossed her eyes. + +"Walter," she said softly. + +He looked round at sound of his name. + +"Oh! Nance!" he said. His manner was as quiet as usual, but he looked +like a man who has undergone some great fatigue and has not yet found +time to rest. + +They shook hands in silence, Nance's dark blue eyes scanning his face. + +"Have you heard from Clo?" she said, at last. "I have. Such a dear +letter--written in the train." + +He flushed. + +"Yes," he said laconically, "I have heard. But I can't wait to talk +about the letter now. I only came here hoping to find a man I know; +they told me at his rooms that he was dining here, but 'twas evidently +a mistake. I must say good-night!" + +He held out his hand, and Nance took it mechanically; but as their +fingers fell apart, she stepped forward and walked with him resolutely +across the lounge. + +In the vestibule she paused, and compelled him to meet her eyes. + +"Walter," she said, "something is wrong!" + +Gore's face hardened. + +"Nothing is wrong." + +She tightened her fingers round the fan she was carrying. + +"That is untrue, Walter." + +Something in the entire candour of the words touched him. He looked at +her with new eyes. + +"You are right," he said quietly. "It was untrue." + +"Then something has happened? Something about Clo?" + +"Yes. Something--something that will break our engagement." + +Nance turned very pale. + +"Walter!" she said faintly, after a moment's pause. Then, before he +could speak again, she looked up at him. "Wait for a minute!" she said +sharply--"wait for a minute!" And turning, she hurried back to where +Daisy Estcoit was still sitting. + +"Daisy," she said, "tell Pierce that I have gone out with Walter, and +that I'll be back in half an hour. Tell him that it's something +most--most important." She spoke hastily; and, without waiting to see +the effect of her words, turned again, and threaded her way between the +groups of people back to where Gore was standing. + +"Call a cab, Waiter!" she said. "We _must_ talk." + +"But, Nance----" + +"A hansom, please!" + +She turned without embarrassment to one of the attendants. + +"But Nance----" + +"You cannot refuse me, Walter. Clo is everything in the world to me." + +The jingle of harness sounded, as the hansom drew up; and, walking +deliberately forward, she got into the vehicle. + +"Tell him to drive anywhere that will take half an hour," she said to +Gore, as he reluctantly followed. + +"Out Holland Park way!" he said, pausing on the step. "I'll tell you +when to stop." + +He took his seat and closed the doors of the cab. + +"Won't you be cold without a wrap?" + +Nance ignored the question. + +"Now," she said, "what is it? Is it about Deerehurst?" + +At the sudden onslaught, Gore started, and turning round, looked at +her. + +"I don't intend to discuss this matter," he said in his coldest voice. + +"But I mean to discuss it." She met his glance with a resolution that +was not to be denied. "Is it about Deerehurst?" + +"If you wish to know, it is about Deerehurst." + +In his voice there was all the reserve, all the coldness of the +Englishman who has been very sorely wounded. + +"And what about him?" + +Quite suddenly Gore's reserve flamed to anger. + +"Do you think I am going to talk of such things with a child like you?" + +Nance clasped her hands on the closed doors of the cab, formulating a +sudden prayer that help might be vouchsafed her; then she spoke, with +eyes fixed steadily in front of her. + +"I am not a child, Walter," she said in a very low voice. "And you +_must_ speak to me--for Clo's sake. And if you won't, then I must tell +you that I know all about her staying away from the theatre the other +night--about her having no headache, but wanting to see Deerehurst--about +her going to Carlton House Terrace at nine o'clock--I know it all, +because she told me----" + +Gore drew a quick, amazed breath. + +"She told you?" + +She nodded. Her throat felt very dry. + +"Clodagh told you that?" + +"Yes. Who told _you_?" + +He made no answer. + +"Walter, was it Lady Frances Hope?" + +"What does that matter?" + +"It was Lady Frances?" + +He put his hand wearily over his eyes. + +"If you wish to know, it was." + +"I guessed so. I always hated her. The other day, as we drove from +Paddington after seeing Clodagh off, we passed her in the Park with +Valentine Serracauld. He must have seen or guessed, or heard from +Deerehurst--and told her. He is an enemy of Clo's, too, since the time +at Tuffnell. + +"Oh, Walter!" She turned suddenly, and looked at him--"Walter, have you +ever really known Clodagh?" + +The pain and question in her voice broke through his wounded +self-esteem. + +"Clodagh has made a fool of me, Nance," he said harshly. "She has never +been straight with me--never from the very first." + +"And do you know why?" + +"No; I can't pretend that I know why." + +His tone was very bitter. + +"Because she cares too much. She idealises too much." + +Gore made a sound that might have been meant for a laugh. + +"I think it is I who have idealised." + +Nance straightened her small figure. + +"Then you have always treated her wrongly. What Clo needs is not to be +idealised, but to be taken care of; not to be praised or blamed, but to +be taken care of." Her brown fingers were tightly clasped, as they +rested on the cab doors. "All her life she has wanted to be taken care +of--and all her life she has been thrown back upon herself. When I was +little, I had her; but when she was little, she had no one. Our mother +died when I was born." + +Something in the simple pathos of this statement stirred Gore's +ever-present sense of the sacredness of home ties. + +"I never knew that," he said very quietly. + +"Yes, our mother died when I was born; and Clo grew up in our father's +care. Did she ever tell you about our father?" + +"No. At least----" + +"Then I shall. I've told Pierce. People ought to know. It helps them to +understand. + +"Our father was a spendthrift--a gambler--a man without any principles. +If somebody stronger than himself had taken him in hand when he was +young, things might have been different. But he began by ruling +everybody who came in contact with him, until at last nobody dared to +rule him. + +"Can you imagine how a man like that would bring up a daughter--you who +had a mother to help you in every year of your life?" + +Her blue eyes darkened with intensity. + +"Our home in Ireland is a big lonely house on the sea-coast. Imagine +growing up in a house like that, without care or money or friends--for +father drove all his friends away. Imagine Clo's life! Her only +learning was what she got with our cousin from the schoolmaster of the +nearest village; her only amusements were sailing and riding and +fishing. She never had the love or friendship of a woman of her own +class; she never knew what it was to be without the dread of debt or +disgrace; and then, at eighteen, she married the first man who came +into her life--not because she liked him--not because she wanted to +marry, or knew what marrying was--but because he had saved our father's +honour by paying his debt!" + +She paused to take breath; but before Gore could speak, she went on +again: + +"Do you know what I always wonder, Walter, when I think of Clodagh?" + +Gore made a low murmur. + +"I wonder, considering everything, that she hasn't done really wrong +things, instead of just terribly foolish ones! It doesn't seem strange +to me that she should have behaved like a child, when she first felt +what it was to be free and flattered and admired. Listen, Walter! There +have been too many clouds between you and Clodagh. Neither of you has +understood. You have been too proud; and she has been too much afraid. +But I am not afraid!" + + +And in the prosaic London cab, with her eyes fixed resolutely on the +heavy copper-coloured sky that hung above the housetops, Nance +performed her second act of love. While Gore sat silent, she poured +forth the whole mistaken tale of Clodagh's life, from the days in +Venice to the hour of her departure for Ireland. She omitted nothing; +she extenuated nothing. With a strange instinct towards choice of the +right weapons, she fought for her sister's future. Everything was +told--Lady Frances Hope's poisoning of Clodagh's mind against Gore +himself--the scene with Serracauld in the card-room--all the +temptations, all the follies, confessed in the darkness of the nights +at Tuffnell, and in Clodagh's own bedroom on the night she visited +Deerehurst. It was the moment for speech; and she spoke. Her own +shyness, her own natural reticence, were swept aside by the great need +of one who was infinitely dear. The scene at Carlton House Terrace she +described without flinching; for candour and innocence move boldly +where lesser virtues fail and falter. She told the story with a simple +truth that was more dignified than any hesitancy. + +When at last she had finished, Gore sat for a space, very silent and +with bent head; then abruptly, as if inspired by a sudden resolution, +he put up his hand to the trap in the roof. + +"The nearest telegraph office!" he called, as the cabman looked down. + +The man whipped up his horse. But Nance turned sharply. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"To wire to Clodagh." + +"To Clodagh?" + +"Yes." + +"But Clodagh doesn't know? Walter, you haven't told Clodagh! Walter!" + +Gore bent his head. "I wrote to her the night I saw Frances Hope," he +said. "She had my letter this morning." + +"This morning?" It was impossible to fathom the pain and alarm in +Nance's voice. "What did you write?" + +"Very little. Just that I knew about Deerehurst--that I thought it +better we should not marry." + +"And she got that letter this morning? She has been hours and hours +alone, believing that you don't love her--that she is left utterly by +herself? Oh!" + +"Nance, don't! I'm sufficiently ashamed." + +Nance put her hands over her eyes. + +"I'm not thinking of you!" she said cruelly. + +"I know. But remember, there's the wire. We can still wire. I shall +tell her that you and I are coming for her to Ireland--that she will +never be alone again." + +Nance's hand dropped. + +"But you don't understand!" she cried. "No telegram can reach her +to-night. It will only get to Carrigmore to-morrow morning--and from +there to Orristown. If we were to give everything we have in the +world--if we were to die for it--we could not save her from the +blackness, the loneliness and horror of to-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Early on the morning that followed the storm, Clodagh stepped from the +hall door of Orristown. As she stood on the gravelled pathway in the +clear, strong daylight, she looked like one who has fought some +terrible battle in the watches of the night, and who has been worsted +in the encounter. She was pale and fragile, with a frightened query in +her eyes, as though she had propounded some enormous question, to which +Fate had as yet made no answer. For a time she stood in a helpless +attitude, looking toward the green hill, crowned with sparsely foliaged +trees, that fronted the house; then, seeming to take some vague +resolution, she walked slowly forward towards the avenue, pausing where +the gravelled pathway joined the fields. + +There was a curious look upon the land and sea that morning, as though +both were lying exhausted by the tumult of the night. All around +beneath the avenue trees lay twigs and short splintered branches, to +which the limp leaves, whipped to untimely death by the vehemence of +the storm, still hung. Across the bay, as far as Carrigmore, the sea +lay like a sleeping tiger that has prowled and harried through the dark +hours of night, and now lies at rest. A wonderful pearly blue was upon +the waters--long, rippling lines spread from headland to headland, like +faintly pencilled shadows; but massed in a dark fringe along the curve +of yellow strand was a ridge of packed seaweed, that held within its +meshes a thousand evidences of the strife that had been, in twists of +straw, pieces of broken cork, and long black chunks of driftwood. + +She stood for an indefinite space, looking at this significant dark +line standing out against the smoothness of the sand, until, half +unconsciously, her attention was attracted by a sound that made itself +audible from the direction of the gate, growing in volume as it +advanced--the swish, swish of bare feet on soft ground. She turned from +the vision of the sleeping sea, to behold a small peasant child in torn +dress and dirty apron speeding up the drive. + +The child neared her; then swerved away as if in fear, and continued +her flight towards the house. + +A sudden impulse seized Clodagh. + +"Come here!" she called. "Where are you going?" + +For an instant the child looked too frightened to speak; then her lips +parted. + +"Misther Asshlin--beyant at Carrigmore!" she said inarticulately; and, +turning, she fled onward to the house. + +Clodagh stood still for a moment; then she also turned, and recrossed +the gravelled pathway. + +She walked forward, scarcely feeling the ground beneath her feet. Her +heart beat fast; a cold premonition ran through her, chilling her +blood. Something was about to happen! The inertia that lay upon her +mind was to be shattered! Something was about to happen! + +As she reached the hall door, she saw the child vanish into the +stable-yard by the small latched door in the great wooden gate; and saw +Mick, escaped from confinement, come careering towards her. But for +once she took no heed of his manifestations. Scarcely even noticing +that he followed her, she passed into the hall, and from thence to the +dining-room. There she stood for a long time listening--listening +intently. At last the sound she instinctively waited for reached +her--the sound of a sharp, wailing cry. With a frightened gesture she +put her hands over her face; then let them drop to the back of a chair +that stood beside the centre table. + +She stood holding weakly to this chair, her limbs trembling, her face +white, while the wailing sound drew nearer, growing more spasmodic as +it approached. At last the door was thrust wide open, and Hannah burst +into the room, her face blanched, tears streaming from her eyes, her +whole air demoralised. + +"Miss Clodagh, Masther Larry!" she muttered inarticulately--"Masther +Larry!" + +Clodagh held to the back of the chair. + +"What is it?" + +"Gone! Drownded!" + +Clodagh swayed a little. + +"Drowned!" she echoed in a faint voice. + +"He nivver went home at all last night. And to-day mornin' they found +the little boat capsized beyant at the head. O God, help the poor +mother! What'll the poor woman do at all?" + +"Drowned!" Clodagh said again--"drowned! Larry drowned!" + +Hannah stepped forward, as though she expected her to fall; but she +motioned her away. + +"How did it happen?" she asked in a vague, thin voice. + +"'Twas the storm! Sure, 'twas the storm!" + +"But Larry was the best sailor in Carrigmore!" + +She said the words involuntarily; but as they left her lips, they +brought into being a new thought. She stood upright, and by a strange, +slow process of suggestion, her eyes travelled to the mantelpiece, +where the bundle of notes still protruded from under the clock. + +What if Larry had quailed before the thought of confessing his losses +to the querulous mother, who could so ill spare the money he had +squandered? What if Larry had not fought the storm last night as it +might have been fought? She suddenly contemplated last night's play +from Larry's point of view--contemplated Larry's losses by light of the +hard monetary straits that Ireland breeds. + +Her blood seemed to turn to water; she felt like one beyond the pale of +human emotion or superhuman help. + +"Leave me to myself, Hannah!" she said faintly. "I want to be alone." + +"Lave you? But, my darlin'----" + +"I must be alone." + +Hannah looked at her in agonised concern. + +"Miss Clodagh----" she began. But something in Clodagh's stony quiet +daunted her. She gave a muffled sob, and moved slowly across the room. + +Clodagh was conscious of the wailing sounds of grief for several +minutes after she had disappeared; then gradually they faded, as she +descended into the lower regions, to share the appalling and yet grimly +fascinating news with Burke and the farm-labourers; and silence reigned +in the lonely room. + +When full consciousness that she was alone came to Clodagh, she let her +hands drop from the back of the chair; and, moving stiffly, crossed the +room to the fireplace. + +She made no attempt to touch the notes that lay as Asshlin had placed +them; but she looked at them for long with a species of horror. And at +last, as though the thought of them had begotten other thoughts, she +raised her eyes to the picture hanging above them--the picture of +Anthony Asshlin in his lace ruffles and black satin coat, with his +powdered hair, his gallant bearing, and dark eager face. + +The eyes of the picture seemed to look into hers with an almost human +smile of satire. Time had passed since that gay, reckless presence had +filled the old room; dice and duelling were gone out of fashion; but +human nature was unchanged--there were still Asshlins of Orristown! + +"O God----" she said aloud; then she stopped. "There is no God!" she +added wildly--"there is no God!" + +At the sudden sound of her voice, Mick rose from the corner where he +had been crouching. The sight of him calmed her; she passed her hand +once or twice across her eyes, then walked quite steadily across the +room. + +The dog followed her closely; but at the door she stopped and looked at +him. + +"No, Mick! You cannot come!" + +By some extraordinary sagacity the animal whimpered, and pressed closer +to her skirt. + +With an almost fierce impulse she stooped, kissed him once; then, +holding him back, slipped through the door and closed it. + +He gave a frantic bark of misery, but she did not pause, she did not +even look back. Walking rapidly, she passed across the hall and out +into the open. + +Turning to the right, she skirted the stable-yard and the orchard, and, +hurrying past the spot where years ago Milbanke had asked her to be his +wife, took the path to the Orristown cliffs. + +Her thoughts trooped up like living things as she stumbled forward +along the uneven track. She was conscious of no fear, only of a +desolating loneliness--an enormous sense of futility, of finality. Last +night she had looked into the eyes of Fate, propounding the question of +how she was to carry on her life, and to-day she had read the answer in +the face of the portrait. + +She hurried on unseeingly, covering the same track that her father had +covered on the night he had ridden out and met death on the dark +headland. + +From time to time she stopped and looked at the sea--looked at the long +curve of shining beach with its margin of dark wreckage--looked at the +clustering cottages of Carrigmore, and marvelled in a dumb way at the +tragedy that could underlie so calm a scene. + +She had none of the nervous panic that had assailed her the night +before. She was conscious of nothing but a black despair--a despair +such as Denis Asshlin had been wont to drown in drink and cards. She +had lived her life; she had had her chance; and the end was failure. +She had tangled the thread of her existence; and the one hand that +could have unravelled the tangle was closed against her. + +One thought alone she rigorously refused to harbour--the thought of +Nance. Nance would have her husband--Nance would have her home, she +assured herself. Nance would forget. In vain the remembrance of her +faithful loyalty rose to make the assurance doubtful. As she had closed +the door upon Mick, so she closed her heart to the knowledge. + +There were certain hours in every life, she told herself, when the soul +judged the body--judged and forgave, or judged and condemned! Her shaken +mind drove her feet faster along the rugged track--faster--faster, as +though Nemesis pursued her. Terrible visions rose from the sea, creeping +over the cliff's edge--visions of Larry, stiff and dead, as she had seen +her father, as she had seen Milbanke--visions of the cottage at +Carrigmore, of her aunt's dark room, filled with the sound of +lamentation. + +Before she was aware of it, she turned a bend in the path, and came +full upon the scene of her father's accident. She paused, gave a faint +gasp, and involuntarily put her hand to her throat. Her destination was +nearer than she had thought. + +In a vague, startled way her eyes scanned the place, roving from the +chasm in the cliff to the sweep of short grass, with its tufting of +hardy flowers that throve in the strong, salt air. It was also +still--so extraordinarily still! Fifty yards away a goat browsed on the +cliff, and the quiet, cropping sound of its eating came to her +distinctly; overhead in the pale blue sky a hawk was poised, seemingly +motionless; down below her, three hundred feet away, the sea made a +curious sucking noise, as it filled and receded from some invisible +fissure in the rocks. + +Still with her hand to her throat, she tip-toed forward to the edge of +the chasm. Then suddenly she drew back, trembling and giddy. Beneath +her, at what looked an incredible distance, the clear green waters +formed a narrow estuary, shadowed by the towering rocks. They were like +a grave, those waters--so secret, so full of mystery! Again she forced +herself to look, compelling her unwilling eyes to travel up and down +the great sweep of red sandstone, from the grass at the edge of the +abyss to the dark water, from the water back again to the grass. + +She could not be a coward in this last moment! She had never been a +physical coward! + +She stepped back; she took one dazed look at the world that, until +yesterday, had been so very fair; she drew one long, tense, shuddering +breath, closed her eyes, and went forward. + +But at her first step something or some one came rushing down the cliff +behind her. She gave a terrified cry, opened her eyes, and recoiled +from the chasm. A moment later she had turned, trembling, crying, +utterly unnerved, to find Mick leaping round her. + +"Mick!" she said tremulously--"Mick!" Then a voice called to her; and, +looking up, she saw Hannah, her hair dishevelled, her eyes still +streaming, the yellow envelope of a telegram held in the corner of her +apron. + +"The fright you gave me, Miss Clodagh!" she began. "Sure, I'd nivver +find you at all, only for the dog!" + +Then she stopped, looking sharply at her mistress. + +"Miss Clodagh, what is it all? Come home!--come home, my lamb!" Her +voice, husky from tears, dropped suddenly. + +But Clodagh still stood white and shaking. She had been too near the +verge to be easily recalled. + +"Sure, God's ways are quare, but 'tisn't for us to be judgin'; maybe +He's saved worse, Miss Clodagh! Keep thinkin' that! Maybe He's saved +worse!" + +Clodagh covered her eyes. + +"But here's somethin' for you. God help us! I was forgettin'! Will you +be seein' what is in it?" She came slowly forward, extending her arm. + +Clodagh took the telegram. Without thought or interest she tore it +open, and her eyes passed mechanically over the written words. Then +suddenly it slipped from between her fingers, blew a little way across +the close grass, and fluttered down over the edge of the chasm. + +As it disappeared, she turned. Her face was entirely without colour; +her eyes had the dazed look of one who is confronted with a great +light. + +"Hannah!" she cried--"Hannah! there is a God after all!--there is a +God!" She swayed suddenly; and the old servant, rushing forward, caught +her in her arms. + + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gambler, by Katherine Cecil Thurston + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GAMBLER *** + +***** This file should be named 33490.txt or 33490.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/4/9/33490/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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