The Lonely Stronghold

  CHAPTER XXXII

  ONE TWIN RETURNS

  For a moment Olwen's very heart flagged in its beat. She was so taken bysurprise that until she had had a moment in which to recover, she couldnot look up. It had, then, been premonitory--the fashion in which herthoughts had persistently strayed in the direction of Guysedyke duringthe preceding twenty-four hours.

  _Colonel Guyse_! Promotion had, of course, been rapid during the war;but that he should have risen to the command of a battalion!

  She kept her head turned away as long as she dared, pretending to beoccupied in giving greeting to an elderly club man, Mr. Berkeley, whohad been very good to her hospital in the way of presents of game, fishand poultry from his country estate. Then, with a feeling as though shestood, her back against the wall, facing the rifles of a firing party,she turned slowly round....

  ... And found herself looking into the deep blue eyes of Wolf. He wasolder, more bronzed, but his appearance was, if anything, moreattractive than ever. The whimsical smile which he shared with his twinwas curving the mouth under his golden moustache.

  ... But, of course! She had foreseen this. She had known that it mustbe so. Wolf would be a colonel and Ninian would be--dead.

  "Well, Miss Innes, this is pleasant," said Wolf genially. "I wonder ifyou remember as vividly as I do the circumstances under which weparted--on the Raefell Road, in the early morning?"

  "Why, Olwen, I had no idea you were acquainted with my cousin," saidLady Cumberdale pleasantly, "my maternal great-grandfather married aGuyse."

  "I'm afraid I didn't know it," smiled Olwen, as she shook hands withWolf, "but you ought to be aware by this time that Debrett had little orno share in my education, dear lady."

  "It is the greatest relief to me to see Miss Innes safe and well," wenton Wolf, addressing her ladyship. "She came to stay with us at the Pelethe winter before the war, and poor old Nin took her out skating andallowed her to fall and cut her head open. The blow made her delirious,and in the absence of her attendant she got out of the Pele at night andwent wandering over the country. We had to race after her with a motor,and found her, wet and half starved, by the roadside."

  Olwen listened to this account of her proceedings with interest. Sothis was how things appeared to Wilfrid! Well, it was natural enough!She laughed a little, but did not reply.

  "My dear!" said Lady Cumberdale, in much surprise, "what an adventure!Did it not make you very ill!"

  "Of course it did," Wolf answered for her. "I knew she ought to bebundled back and popped between the blankets in double quick time. Butpoor old Nin thought she ought to be humoured, and it was her humour totravel back to Yorkshire, so he let her do so, in her wet things. Shehad a bad time afterwards, so I heard; and it did not surprise me."

  "Yes, I had a bad time," replied the girl with lowered eyes. "I lost myfather just then, and it was a shock. However, I recovered completely."

  "Greatly to the advantage of the nation," said Wolf courteously, "ifwhat I hear be true--you have been turning your house into a hospital,have you not?"

  "I have. But I am glad to see that you, apparently, have been in noneed of hospital treatment," said she brightly. "You look very well."

  "Yes, the army has got me for keeps, as they say. I used to be aTerritorial captain before the war, you know, so I was not quite as newto my job as most of our poor chaps were. But won't you let me take youto have something to eat, or at least a cup of tea?"

  She went with him out of the room and down the stairs to the tea buffet.A particularly interesting item on the programme was just about tobegin, so this room was comparatively empty. They found chairs, and satdown together.

  "Well," he said, after a prolonged scrutiny from beneath his thicklashes. "So the country mouse has become a town mouse."

  "But remains a mouse, as you see. Mice can't turn into--well, intogazelles, for example, or swans, or birds of paradise."

  "Now what, I wonder, is the exact significance of that remark?" ponderedWolf aloud. She smiled.

  "Oh, there was a time when the mouse longed exceedingly to turn intosomething more striking," she answered lightly, "but that was long ago.Now tell me some news, please. How is your mother?"

  "I'm sorry to say that she is anything but well," replied Wolf, his faceclouding. "In fact, I'm afraid she is very ill. Of course, the loss ofpoor old Nin was a great blow to her."

  Olwen felt the blood drain from her cheeks, and saw that Wolf was notingher ghastly whiteness. "Indeed," she managed to falter, "I--I had notheard. I am so sorry." ... The lifeless words fell from her mouth,while her heart seethed within her. "I wish I had said I would marryhim," she was fiercely thinking, "I wish I had let him kiss me, as hewould have done, that last evening. It would be something to look backupon--something snatched out of the dreary wreck of everything." Aloudshe went on, "Poor Madam must be very lonely."

  "She is. You know she never liked the Pele."

  "Is Sunia still with her?"

  "Yes, oh, yes, Sunia is there."

  She longed to ask for details--to inquire when, how and where, but foundto her vexation that she could not do so with a steady voice.

  While she was struggling for composure, Wolf began to speak. He toldher how deeply disappointing it had been to him to be unable to continuethe acquaintance begun at the Pele before the war. What he said wasquite light and not too pointed, but he managed to convey the idea thathe had been interested in her from the first, and had wished to see moreof her.

  She listened, and replied as in a dream. All the time she was wonderinghow much Wolf knew. That he had been in the plot to secure her fortunewas certain, from what Ninian had told her grandfather. But did heknow--had he ever known--that Ninian had confessed?

  From his tranquil self-assurance she felt almost sure that, although hemust know that his brother travelled to Bramforth that day, he yet hadno idea of his having given away the secret cause of her invitation tothe Pele.

  As she thought it over, she felt it most likely that Ninian had saidnothing about it at home. Wolf probably thought his twin's intentionhad been merely to see that she reached home safely and to give thecable to her grandfather.

  So often and so closely had she pondered over the whole question as torender it remarkable that at this precise moment a certain thoughtdawned on her mind for the first time.

  She perceived clearly that Ninian's confession had been quitegratuitous--that, if it had never been made, nobody would ever haveknown of the discreditable little plot.

  Had Madoc Innes still been living, the damaging fact of Wolf'sacquaintance with him and knowledge of his affairs must have come out.But Madoc Innes was dead; and _at the time of making his confessionNinian Guyse, leaving read the cable, knew that he was dead_.

  Thus the secret was safe; yet he had chosen to make a clean breast--why?

  She could see no answer except that he was a man whose integritydemanded such a course, whose conscience would not be satisfied withoutit.

  Examined in the light thrown by this thought, his conduct showed upgallantly. Ah, suppose she had all along been wrong--suppose that hehad loved her, after all, and that he had felt unable to take hishappiness without first frankly admitting the sorry part he had set outto play?

  That longing for his physical presence which had beset her when she wasat the Pele, which had tortured her many times since, now surged overher until she could have wept with the pain of it.

  She no longer judged him, she just wanted him, with a craving now to befor ever unsatisfied.

  The presence of Wolf was half agony, half joy. He spoke in a voicewhich recalled another. The expression of his face, the very turn ofhis head, was so like that of his twin that she could not achieve anysort of composure. The news she had just heard, the sound and sight of aGuyse, agitated her so deeply that she hardly knew what she did or said.She only knew that they talked for more than an hour, and that when she
left Chester Square he had promised to dine with her at Orchard Row thefollowing day.

  Going home in the car, she had to brace her shaken nerves to theknowledge that Ben Holroyd had arrived, and would be awaiting them. Theminutes between Belgravia and Chelsea had never seemed so few. She wason the rack.

  Nin--who had seemed the incarnation of health and nerve and sinew--whoseindomitable soul had resisted the depressing influence of poverty, ofhis sick mother, of his joyless existence at the Pele--Nin's life-bloodwas among that poured out that England might live. At the moment, shefelt that his twin brother was the only man in the world whose societyshe could endure.

  By to-morrow she would have recaptured her serenity, and be able to askthe questions that trembled on her tongue, but which her voice refusedto carry. She would learn when, where, how, that buoyant spirit hadbeen resigned, those muscles of tempered steel had became dust.

  They arrived at Orchard Bow to find that the guest was in his room,changing for dinner. Olwen was able to go to hers, where her maidawaited her, a clever but unresponsive person, who was not likely tonotice signs of mental perturbation. As she skilfully but coldlyperformed her duties, the heiress thought, as almost every day, morningand night she thought, of Sunia's soft hands and cooing voice.

  Oh, for the days beyond recall! Oh, for the sound of a teasing laugh,the provocative gleam of dancing eyes, the challenge of Nin's utterlymasculine personality!

  She had had it all and lost it.

  Had she yielded, had she loved him, he would have gone to the war andlaid down his life just the same. Yes, but he would have beenhers--hers, as in spite of reason, in spite of scruples and fears, shehad known him to be, ever since the night when he had kept life in her,out upon the wild snowy fells.

  She wanted to be alone, to cast herself down upon the floor and giveherself up to her desolation. Nothing of the kind was, however,possible. She went downstairs at last, and entering the drawing-room,found Ben in awed contemplation of the last note in modern interiors.

  He was very pale as he advanced to meet his hostess. She thought he hadimproved, as almost everybody was improved--since the war. She knew hehad made a considerable sum of money, and that the Holroyd Mills wouldbe henceforth quite on a par with those of her uncle, Mr. Whitefield,whose particular branch of industry had not been much in requisitionduring the struggle. Ben, like Gracie, had fined down; yet he struck adiscordant note when set in the midst of the subtly restrained, costlyelements which composed the general effect of the room.

  "Oh, Ben," said Miss Innes sweetly, "I am glad to see you. But I havegrown so old--so very old! Should you have recognised me?"

  He laughed uncomfortably. "You're not speaking seriously, Miss Innes,"he replied, rather ceremoniously. "I would recognise you anywhere--andhowever changed. But you are not changed, except for the better."

  She turned to Aunt Maud and Gracie. "Isn't that beautiful?" she asked."Could it have been better said! Well, and so here we are at last, andthe black barrier which was stretched over the whole future of the worldis broken and gone. We are free once more to think and talk ofourselves a little."

  It was on her tongue to tell him that she had met Wilfrid Guyse onlythat afternoon; but when she approached the subject such a lump swelledin her throat that she could not proceed. To speak of any of the familynaturally was beyond her strength; and she was sure that, should anybodybring in the name of Ninian, she must break down obviously. Thereforeshe said no word, though she knew that Wolf was coming to dinner thefollowing night, and that she must collect her forces by that time; musteven be prepared to hear his brother's death discussed as if it werejust the death of an ordinary person.

  The preoccupation caused by these considerations was so great that sheforgot to be awkward or tongue-tied before Ben, with whom she hadexchanged but a very few words since the occasion when she refused hisoffer of marriage. The evening passed off quite agreeably in an attempton the part of the three ladies to teach their visitor auction bridge.Aunt Maud, through constant playing with convalescent officers, hadbecome a really good player; and Ben's intelligence was of the calibrewhich quickly seizes the drift of anything which can be accomplished bythe aid of common sense. At the end of it all, Olwen felt that thingshad gone better than she had anticipated. She had got through withoutself-betrayal, and found herself at last alone, in a world which nolonger contained Ninian; and then her misery rolled over her headindeed.

  Morning found her sleepless, red-eyed, wretched. Gracie exclaimed whenshe appeared, asking hurriedly if she were ill. Ben, whose own sleephad been of a very broken and scanty description, wondered if he daredto hope that the bad night to which she was fain to confess had been inany way connected with the thought of himself.

  The day was filled in with lunch at one of the big restaurants, amatinee, and tea at a fashionable lounge. This programme inevitablyrecalled to her mind, as well as to Ben's, the occasion of theexpedition to Leeds. Little had he then thought to see the girl typistseated in her fine car, entertaining him with a careless generosity thathad no need to count cost. His love had, indeed, been disinterested.

  As Miss Innes dressed for dinner that night, even the detached Parkinsonremarked that she looked very white.

  A few friends had been invited to dine at Orchard Row. She had achievedwith creditable composure the imparting to Aunt Maud of the news thatColonel Guyse was to be one of the number. Aunt Maud, who had alwayshad her suspicions, was very careful not to betray them.

  As for poor Ben, when the magnificent Colonel walked in, he felt thathis own chances were gone for ever. Nobody had made any explanation, heconcluded that this was the Guyse in whose society Olwen had spent thoseweeks at the Pele. That these two would marry seemed the predestinedend.

  Wolf's manners were really extremely nice. He devoted himself tohandsome Aunt Maud with a deference and desire to please which mosttriumphantly accomplished their object. At dinner he sat upon Olwen'sright hand, Ben being upon her left. She explained to both gentlemenher own pleasure in the fact that, as she and Aunt Maud were of the samesex, and each took one end of the table, the difficulty which exists inhouses where this is not so, when the number dining is eight or twelve,did not exist.

  After dinner there was music, and one of the guests sang charmingly.There was no chance at all for Wolf to have any private talk with hishostess.

  The following day the Holroyds departed, and Olwen reaped one benefitfrom the meeting between Wolf and Ben, namely, that Ben went awaywithout attempting to resume a more intimate footing, without the pleawhich she had more than half expected, and for which she was not yetready.

  The dread of her life was lest she should marry a fortune-hunter, andBen was the only man in the world of whom such a thing could never besaid. Now that Ninian was no longer in question, she dimly thought thatit might--some day--be Ben.

  A day or two after his departure she was at home, by herself, listlessand dissatisfied. Aunt Maud had thrown herself heart and soul into thequestion of training partially disabled soldiers for various trades. Inthis question a certain General Grey was much interested, and Olwenthought that the half of his interest not monopolised by the soldierswas most evidently given to Aunt Maud. At the dinner aforesaid, he hadsat next to Miss Wilson, his absorption having suggested to her niecethat before long she would be left without a chaperon. She was, aboveall things, desirous to see her aunt happy--to feel that life might atlast offer her something in return for those long years of rigidself-sacrifice at the vicarage.

  It began to seem that Olwen's only happiness in the future would begained in this way--by playing providence to those she loved.

  She was ready to feel her wealth as dust and ashes, to wish that it weregone, and she under the necessity of earning her bread once more. Nightand day she thought of Ninian, until the craving to find out what hisexact fate had been became so strong that she hesitated between thedesire to question his brother and the determination to apply to the WarOffice o
r some official place where complete lists had been compiled.

  Her inward suffering was so intense that it seemed to her that she couldhardly look anybody in the face without discovery--that her despair mustbe written so plainly that none who saw it could fail to say, "she haslost her lover!"

  She had had tea, and was sitting in a corner of the Chesterfield, doingabsolutely nothing, her capable hands listless before her, her eyesfixed on vacancy, her thoughts gnawing incessantly at the one subjectwhich occupied them--when Colonel Guyse was announced.