CHAPTER XXXV
'TWIXT CUP AND LIP
"Oh, please wait a minute," said his tormentor; "I have a great dealmore to say before we part."
He halted, though chafing against himself for displaying such weakness,and stood, his hands in his pockets, glowering at her small figure,instinct with energy, erect in the sunny enclosure, framed by the greystones.
She smiled at him, a rapt kind of smile, seeming more occupied with herown thoughts than with him.
"Oh, doesn't it all look different?" she asked.
"I don't know quite what you mean, but everything is different--thewhole world is changed since you and I were last here."
"Yes. Utterly changed. The only thing that remains the same is justthe very thing I thought would have changed most."
"And that is?"
"You."
"Ah, well, if you think so, that only shows what a little duffer youmust be," he snapped.
"All right. I'm a duffer now. That is a change, since you used to lookup to me, or pretend you did! However, it doesn't much matter. I wantyou to do me a very small favour. Walk back with me to Twice-Brewed."
"No fear. What for?"
"I'll explain. I am doing a little tour up in the north--nobody is withme but my maid. I was intending to call at the Pele to-morrow, to leavesomething there--a little present for Madam and--and you. You were verykind to me when I was with you, and I was so ill afterwards that younever got properly thanked. Now it occurs to me that as we have met Ican motor you home, going on afterwards to Caryngston, where I am tostay the night. I have written to the Seven Spears, and Mrs. Askwithexpects me. By the way, how were you going to get home if I had not metyou?"
"On my feet, of course."
"Well, you may as well come in the car instead."
He considered her, half angry, half amused. "You and your car!"
She laughed out gaily. "It does seem absurd, doesn't it? But you mightcome and look at it. It's such a nice one. Don't be disagreeable."
"I never need make any effort in that direction. It comes natural."
"It doesn't. You cultivate it because you think it's clever, but youare completely mistaken. Now come along, and be thankful I can go on myown feet to-day instead of having to make use of yours."
"I'm not sure there's any cause for thankfulness in that."
"Oh, you _are_ perverse! You must have got out of bed the wrong sidethis morning. I wonder how I put up with you; but, you see, I feel alittle responsible. Having begun your education and then allowed it tolapse, the least I can do is to be patient with you."
"I have frequently met with assurance," he remarked, "but for sheerbrazen impudence, I certainly never met your equal."
"And I don't think you ever will," she replied, as though highlycomplimented.
Her feet went dancing over the heathery grass, mauve with harebells.Her heart was beating so wildly that she wondered if it could beaudible. She had to fight her impulse to turn and cling to him as hestrode beside her, gaunt and bony, the marks of suffering plainly onhim, but Nin still--the same Nin. She refrained, however. There wassomething delicious in the present moment. She wanted to prolongit--wanted to know what he would do when he found out that the Pele washis.
Suddenly he spoke. "Well, it will, as a matter of fact, be aconvenience to me to get back home quickly," said he, "for I have to putmyself inside a tail coat and go and dine with the Kendalls."
"The Kendalls!" she cried ... and, in the extremity of her surprise, thenext words came out without her own consent. "Why, what in the world dothey want with you now?"
He grinned in the way she knew so well. "You may well ask. Perhaps youhaven't heard of poor Noel's death. That leaves me heir to the rottentitle, worse luck!"
"Nin," said a low, changed voice from under her hat, "tell me the truth.Are you engaged to her?"
There was a long, dreadful pause. "Yes," he said at last, "I think Iam. That is, her father has given his consent. That's what I am goingover about to-night."
"And you--and you--you could bear--to come up here--with _that_ in yourmind?"
"I came up here," he answered heavily, "to say good-bye to a dream."
They went on for some way in silence. She told herself that nowell-conducted young woman could venture farther than she had done inthe direction of encouragement. The light went out of the skies, herstep flagged, she could have cast herself upon the grass and wept. Yetfor very pride she could not say, "Jilt her, marry me!" Had he notsworn with energy that nothing would induce him to marry her?
"Well," said she at last, primly. "I can but hope you will be veryhappy."
"Happy?" he said with a fierce little snort.
"There's one drawback, Sunia doesn't like her. Sunia does like me. Youdon't know how many times I have longed for her; my present maid is akind of fish, she never entertains me with spells or mesmerising orfortune-telling or any of the devices to make time pass agreeably, ofwhich Sunia is mistress. I wonder whether I could tempt her with veryhigh wages to come to me and desert Madam!"
"She won't desert me, even when Miss Kendall is her mistress."
"I don't think you need build on that. Miss Kendall won't keep her amonth."
"Jove! I never thought of that!"
"Well, I hope you will, under the circumstances, excuse my havingproposed marriage to you this afternoon. I can only say in extenuationthat I had no idea your affections were already engaged, or I would havebeen more discreet. Why, here we are already within sight of the inn.What a little way down it really is! A couple more fields and we are onthe road! Goddard must have seen us coming down; he has brought the caralong, I see."
They spoke only trivialities until they reached the gate which thechauffeur held open.
Olwen came out in a kind of dream. She felt as if she had been to afunction which she imagined was a wedding and it had turned out, assometimes in nightmare, to be a funeral after all.
She addressed Ninian with a self-possessed smile, asking him to sit byGoddard and direct him. Then she got into the car with Parkinson, whoproceeded to remove her mistress's wide-brimmed hat and tie her up inher motor-bonnet as they sped along.
It was past five by the time they reached the little road that branchedoff to the Pele. Olwen stopped the car.
"It is getting so late that, as you have to dress, Mr. Guyse, I will notcall upon Madam this afternoon," said she. "I shall hope to give myselfthat pleasure another time, if I ever come back to this neighbourhood,which, perhaps, is not very likely. Meanwhile, may I trouble you tocarry this parcel to her? It is really a present for you, but I thinkshe may share in its enjoyment. Give her my kind remembrances.Good-bye."
Tongue-tied before the two servants, he made his adieux. Now it was hewhose eyes eagerly sought for a glance from hers, but in vain. She feltas if one look would break down her pride, and that she would show someinkling of what she was enduring. As on the day when he had put herinto the train at Raefell, they parted with barely a farewell. In acouple of minutes the car had become a dark speck upon the moor road toCaryngston.
... She had but just glimpsed the grey tower--had hardly ventured even aglance, so sorely did she fear to give herself away. Now she leanedback in her corner, drawing down her veil to hide the drops that swam inher eyes, yet not daring to give way or to relieve her feelings by anysign of what she was going through.
Caryngston in summer-time was quite an attractive village. Over theporch of the Seven Spears clambered a Gloire de Dijon rose. On the longbenches outside the doors sat the hard-bitten northern farmers, enjoyingthe restful moment. Deb stood in the porch, and her eyes lit up as sherecognised the little lady who had come in the snow upon an evening nowfar back in the mists of that antique period usually alluded to as"before the war."
As they entered the passage, whose very wall-paper was unchanged, eachmoment, each event of the former occasion revive
d with poignantfreshness.
Deb had plenty to say, the whole war news of the village to give. Heryoung daughter had married the bootmaker's son the first time ever hecame home on leave. She pointed out the house now inhabited by thereunited couple. "And she's a deal luckier than the most of 'em. Herman's only short of one foot, and that's no matter for the boot trade."It was a comfort to find her so absorbed in what she had to impart, asnot to be very inquisitive concerning Olwen's own affairs, after onceshe had expatiated upon the wonderful fate that had befallen the "yoonglass" in having all that "brass" bequeathed to her.
Supper was presently partaken of, and removed. At last, about half-pasteight, Olwen was left alone, in the depths of that armchair where onceshe had sat swelling with resentment at Nin's impertinence. She hadtold Parkinson to go to bed, and was therefore free to indulge unnoticedin the luxury of red eyes. Her tears flowed fast.
What folly had been hers! She had spent such a sum of money as,following on her large disbursements throughout the war, would make areal difference to her--and this in order to bestow the Pele upon RoseKendall, the odious girl who had treated Mrs. Guyse's companion withstudied insolence. Yet she gave thanks that she had given it. In thefirst passionate tumult of mortification, upon hearing of hisengagement, she had been tempted to withhold the gift. She had put thattemptation by. Having started to right a wrong, she could give Nin theone thing he wished to have, even though her own happiness proved tohave been permanently lost. She had misjudged him, she had beenungenerous, undiscriminating, and for this she desired to make amends.Ninian, at a time when he knew her father to be dead and his owndiscreditable secret safe, had yet confessed. She in return, at a timewhen she knew him to be about to marry another woman, and her ownhappiness to be lost, yet held to her resolution to make him once moremaster of the Pele.
By this deed she felt that she proved herself worthy of him.
Though they would never see each other again, yet there would liebetween them the memory of high things. It would make a sanctuary oflife in the future--that future which loomed before her so long and sodark. As the slow minutes dragged on she fancied Ninian and hisbetrothed sitting together--left alone, no doubt, by considerateparents, so that they might make love.
Such are the torments of jealousy that Miss Innes was quite exhausted bytheir keenness.
He had never made love to her. He had never kissed her!
If ever she had hated anyone she hated Rose Kendall at that moment.
She felt as if ages had passed when she began to hear the stir whichindicated the closing of the inn for the night: the sound of the kitchenfire being raked out, benches pushed back, voices raised and dying inthe distance, the opening and shutting of doors. The hoofs of a horseclattered on the paved market stones, and ceased abruptly. Deb rattledsome crockery in a cupboard, and her husband on the other side of thehouse turned a great key in a lock.
Olwen must go to bed. She lifted a drenched handkerchief and wiped awaythe drops which still fell fast. She had extinguished the lamp, and wassitting in the dark. Thus she might slip past Deb without excitingremark.
The door opened. She spoke, trying to use a natural voice: "It's allright, Mrs. Askwith; I am not gone to bed, but I am just--going."
The door shut as softly, as swiftly as it had opened. The person who hadentered moved round the table in the gloom and came close, standing overher as she cowered back into the depths of the big old porter's chair.