The man's hands were quivering.
Looking upon him, Valerie could see that he was gazing between his fingers.
"I'm afraid to speak," he said uncertainly. His voice was trembling with excitement. "I'm afraid to go on. Don't think I haven't forgiven you. I have, Valerie. I did—oh, ages ago. But … we're skating on terribly thin ice—terribly thin. We must go frightfully carefully, Valerie. You've no idea how carefully." The girl stared at him. This was uncanny—as if he could read her thoughts. He went on breathlessly. "My dream, dear. This is what happened in my dream…. You reproached yourself in just the same handsome way. You used the same phrases." Valerie started. "And then—after all—something went wrong…. What it was, I don't know. I can't remember. And that's the trouble. I can't remember what happened. But it's been the same so far, and then—something went wrong…."
Valerie stood paralyzed. If Anthony was afraid to continue, she was terrified.
With an ungracious buzz the fat bee emerged clumsily from the tall blue flag and sailed noisily out of earshot. The sudden snap of jaws suggested that Patch, who was waiting patiently for the walk to proceed, forgave the flies no trespasses.
"You can't understand, dear. But you must take my word for it. I've trodden this way before. And presently—very soon now—there's a snare—a hole in the road. And if we go in, Valerie, it's—it's all up. I know it. It happened in my dream…. And I'm afraid to go on."
The tremulous misery of his tone wrung the girl's heart.
Instinctively she stretched out a hand.
Anthony recoiled with a cry.
"Don't! Don't touch me! I remember. You took my arm." Head back, he clawed at his temples. "That's right. And we started to walk. We had been standing. We started to walk back towards the cottage. And I felt absurdly happy—all of a sudden…. That was just before the end. And then—— Oh, if I couldonlyremember…."
The agony of desire in his tone seared Valerie's brain into action. With a shock she realized that there she was standing like a dolt,quietly watching Lyveden cudgelling his brains for the password back to Insanity. Any second he might stumble upon it. For once, mercifully, his memory was sluggish—would not respond. And there he was flogging it, to extract that hideous fatal delusion that he was pledged to Gramarye….
Frantically she sought for a distraction. Her brain, however, was away, with the bit in its teeth. She could do nothing with it. The only thing she could think of was that dreadful pass, which Anthony was straining every nerve to recall. This rose up vivid. His reference to the kiss he had given her—her soft reply—the way he had taken her in his arms—then that mischievous breeze that had come whispering out of the silence, remindful, suggestive—the start he had given at its touch—the hoarse cry—the terrible light in his eyes….
Anthony gave a great shout.
"Iknow," he panted jubilantly. "Iknow…. It's coming back, darling, it's coming back—bit by bit. Then I spoke of that kiss. I said how sorry I was and asked your forgiveness. And you said——" He stopped suddenly and clapped a hand over his mouth. After a moment, "'Sh," he said shakily. "I mustn't repeat your words. That'd be moving. And we mustn't move, Valerie. We're just at the edge of the pit. We mustn't move an inch till I can see where it is. Don't be frightened, dear. It's all right. All our happiness depends upon my remembering, and—it's coming back…."
His voice faded, and in an instant he was deep in thought.
Eyes narrowed, his under-lip caught between his teeth, he stared fixedly ahead, making a supreme effort—plainly.
Valerie stood spellbound.
A pompous hum argued that the fat bee had decided to revisit the vicinity.
Far in the distance there was a movement—leaves shaken with the wind. A breeze was passing. The timber of the park murmured the news faintly…. With a sigh the tall elms of the avenue confirmed the park's report. A breeze was passing … coming …a little mischievous breeze….
For one long moment Valerie's heart stood still.
Then she threw back her head and began to sing.
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I;In a cowslip's bell I lie…."
Anthony stared at her open-mouthed. Her throat felt as though it had steel bands about it. She just smiled and sang on.
"There I couch when owls do cry,When owls do cry,When owls do cry…."
The leaves of the lime-trees beyond the green box wall were trembling—she could see them—beginning to bob up and down. The boughs themselves were beginning to sway elastically. Valerie sang like a book.
"On a bat's back do I fly, After sunset, merrily, merrily, After sunset merrily…."
The lime-trees had stopped trembling. The breeze had passed…. An exultant note swept into the melody.
"Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,Under the blossom that hangs on the bough—Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,Under the blossom that hangs on the bough—Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."
With a fine, happy smile, Lyveden heard the song out.
Then he stepped to my lady and caught her two hands.
"Exquisite," he said, glowing. "Exquisite, Valerie. I never knew you had such a lovely voice."
As he spoke, the girl's knees sagged, and he was just in time to catch her before she fell….
Her collapse was momentary. She was not, I suppose, unconscious for more than five seconds. It was, indeed, at her bidding that Anthony set her down upon a low stone seat.
It was natural that he should be greatly concerned.
"Oh, my sweet, it was my fault. I frightened you. I know I did. Lean your head back. That's right. I was all worked up about that rotten dream. I'll never mention it again. I'm so very sorry, dear. I wouldn't have upset you for anything. And you sang so beautifully…. Why did you sing, Valerie?"
"I—I don't know. I heard a bee humming, and that made me think of the song. It was very silly."
"It was very sweet, lass. And I just loved it. And, oh, my lady, please never think of our misunderstanding again. I felt I wanted just to know, but that was all. D'you feel better now?" Valerie nodded. "Are you sure?"
"Quite."
"Shall I get you some water?"
"No, thanks, lad. I'm all right now."
Kneeling on one knee beside her, Anthony patted her hand.
"I'm so thankful…. I can't get over your singing like that … I felt—carried away. I shall remember it always." He sighed happily. "I've got so many happy memories to take away."
Valerie sat up straight.
"To take away?" she breathed.
"My dear, I've been here nearly six months already. It's only with an effort that I can remember that I'm your guest. I don't want to go. Drifting along like this is simply perfect, but … there's such a lot to be done … heaps."
"There's plenty of time."
"I know, but—well, look at my clothes, for one thing. I'm not fit to be seen."
The girl breathed again. Then—
"Oh, yes, you are, old chap. Fitter than you think. Besides, you don't have to stay in London because you're going to a tailor."
"I know," said Anthony slowly. "I know. But it isn't only that. You see, my lady, when I came here to your house, it was as a footman…. And I think I'd better leave it as—well, no more than a friend. That's a big enough step, in all conscience. After a little—a very little—I shall come, again, Valerie…."
His fingers closed about hers.
"You never came here as a footman," said the girl. "You came as my beloved. You went out of the garden ofThe Leather Bottelthat very first day—my lord. What does it matter what else you were—are—will be? Oh, Anthony, you dear, honourable child…."
With his disengaged hand Lyveden covered his eyes.
"I meant to be so strong," he said humbly. "God forgive me, I'm very weak. You see—I love you so." His head bowed, he took hold of her other hand. "My lady, my beautiful lady, will you marry this lover of yours—this irresolute child?"
"Yes," said Valerie, "I will."
Anthony fell upon both knees.
"I worship you," he said simply. "Ever since that first day at the inn, you've had my heart in your hands. Sleeping, waking, your voice has rung in my ears; and my eyes have seen you in the background—a tall dark girl, with the air of a queen … always … always…. You've lighted pantries, you've honoured servants' halls, you've turned a third-class carriage into a bower…. And, when I came to know you, the face of the earth was changed. I didn't know there was such a being in all the world. I don't think you ever were born: I think you stepped out of a fairy tale some midsummer eve." He stopped to lay his head reverently upon the blue silk knees. "And you—are—to be—my wife…. In a few short weeks' time you're going to take my name—stand all in white by my side—put off your glorious girlhood for the last time, and go away—to live with me—for ever…." The cool firm fingers laid hold of his. "Wherever I am, your footfalls will be about me, your perfume will be in the air, your smile will gladden my eyes…. Oh, Valerie, my love, my darling, my queen—you've made me a king…."
Slowly Valerie led the strong rough palms up to her throat.
"If I've made you a king, lad," she breathed, "you mustn't kneel to me."
Getting upon his feet, Anthony pressed his lips to the slight fingers.
Valerie rose also.
"If I've made you a king, lad, you mustn't kiss my hand."
Anthony took her in his arms and looked into her eyes.
"I was wrong," he said, smiling. "You didn't step out of your fairy tale. You never left it. You've just invited me in."
Valerie put up her mouth.
* * * * *
Nineteen days had slipped by—careless, halcyon days, the matchless morning of a golden festival.
Jack and Jill were beyond imagination happy.
Lyveden had been prevailed upon to stay in Hampshire, and when he must visit London, to return the same night. I am not certain that these days were not the best of all. Valerie saw him off in the morning: the two had all day to think upon their state; his home-coming at even delivered a perfect reverie.
The last of these flying visits must be recorded, for it was unlike its fellows, and, though I cannot answer for Lyveden, Valerie will remember it always.
There is no doubt at all that Anthony was growing quite accustomed to the liberal atmosphere of Lincoln's Inn Fields. As he bent his steps westward, he found the huge square admirable. For comfortable dignity, no other square he could remember compared with it. This, he decided, was because its sides were not too high for its area. London, as a whole, had grown up. Had she grown outward instead, perhaps… He remembered suddenly that she had grown outward as well—out of all conscience, since Pepys had taken pleasure in Lincoln's Inn Fields. With a contented sigh Lyveden reflected that by nine-thirty that evening he would be back at Bell Hammer. The sweet smell of the country, the song of the wind in tree-tops—above all, the abundance of cool soft air, seemed to have become essential to his life. For the present, at any rate, he had no use for Town. It choked him. He was glad, however, that his solicitor's office was in Lincoln's Inn Fields….
Some clock announced the hour—a quarter to four. The ex-officer quickened his pace. Savile Row had to be visited, and Pall Mall. Most important of all, a coupe had to be proved…. Anthony's heart beat faster. The car was for Valerie.
As he left Kingsway behind, the gross belch of an 'Alarum' demanded passage. Anthony fell to wondering whether his sweet would not prefer some other usher. An 'Alarum' got there, of course; but it was Rabelaisian. Perhaps …
The sound of a collision between two pedestrians disturbed his musing.
It was nothing. Chin on shoulder, an errand-boy had collided with a man in a silk hat. Anthony was so close to the latter he could have touched him.
The boy muttered an apology, and the man laughed.
"My fault as much as yours," he said lazily, and passed on.
It was Dr. Heron.
Anthony reeled against the wall.
Observing his movement, two typists squeaked with pretended alarm, and then, giving him a wide berth, lurched on, convulsed with mirth and clutching one another.
To the poor woman who approached him and asked if he were ill, Anthony at first said nothing at all. Then he replied dazedly that he was "all right," and moved uncertainly away.
Arrived at the corner of Drury Lane, he hesitated, looking round helplessly, as if he were not sure of his way. Immediately opposite, a large efficient-looking ironmonger's shop presented a plain, well-kept,familiarface….
Anthony stared at it with a dropped jaw.
The errand-boy, who had found his demeanour promising, and had been loitering in the hope of developments, took up a good position in the gutter and fairly drank Lyveden in. Almost at once another of his species joined him.
After a prolonged stare—
"Wot's 'e doin' of?" said the new-comer. "Sayin' 'is prares?"
The other sniggered.
The noise aroused Anthony. With an effort he straightened himself….Then he walked unsteadily across the street and into the shop.
The manager came forward.
"Have those mattocks come in?"
For a second the man peered at him. Then—
"Oh, Major Lyveden, isn't it? Yes, sir. Six 'Lightnin'' mattocks, it was. I sent you a card, sir, three weeks ago. I've got the six on one side for you, sir."
"I'll take them now."
"Certainly, sir." He turned to an assistant and gave directions.Then: "Excuse me, sir. Jim!"
A boy came at a run.
"Fetch me that envelope off of the top o' my blottin'-pad. It's pinned there." He turned to Lyveden. "When you was 'ere last time, sir, you dropped your ticket. I kept it by, in case you come in again, thinkin' you might be glad of it. It ain't six months yet, sir, since you was 'ere, so it's still good."
A moment later Lyveden was looking fixedly at the return half of a third-class ticket which had been issued at Chipping Norton.
"Thanks," he said slowly, slipping it into his pocket. "I'm much obliged."
He paid for the goods and waited whilst a taxi was fetched.
Then he followed the mattocks into the cab, and told the surly driver to go to Paddington….
Five hours later he staggered, rather than walked, along the wasted track and up to the cottage door.
There had been no man to meet him, and the mattocks had made their weight felt after the first two miles. He laid them down thankfully.
For a moment he looked about him.
Behind him—over towards Girdle—the sun had just gone down. And Gramarye … Gramarye had never looked one half so beautiful…. All her hard lines were gone. Every sacred twig of her had put on a wedding garment. The wild mystery of the place had been exquisitely veiled. The majesty of desolation was in full dress. Far as the eye could reach, the toss of the glorious woods had become unspeakably enriched… maddening….
His eyes glittering, Lyveden hugged himself in a paroxysm of glee. The man was just gloating….
Then he strode to the wood-shed.
"Well, Patch," he said cheerily. "Has Patch been a good little——"
The sentence snapped off short.
For a moment Anthony stared at the empty staple.
Then he turned on his heel.
"Patch!" he cried sharply. "Patch!"
After listening intently for a moment, he stepped hastily on to the wasted track and began to whistle….
Presently, trembling with anxiety, he started to stumble along the trail, whistling frantically….
* * * * *
Seated in the hall at Bell Hammer, Valerie looked at the clock. As she did so, the faint crunch of wheels upon gravel told that the car was leaving to meet the down train. An instant later the clock struck nine. Miss French threaded her needle thoughtfully….
Curled by her side upon the sofa, a little white dog with a black patch breathed stertorously.
A door opened, and a servant appeared with a letter. This had been expressed. Valerie laid down her work, and, after a glance at the envelope, opened it curiously.
Do you know anything of Peter? We only got back from America two days ago, and when we rang up his club—he was living there while we were away—they said they hadn't seen him since March. Of course we're frightfully worried. He had the car with him, and we're trying to trace that. Oh, Valerie, father's just come in and said that the car's been found at Carlisle. In a garage there, and that two men left it to be seen to a month ago, but the police think he bought it from them and is afraid. Please wire if you——
With a crash the small table by her side upset its complement of violets on to the parquet, there was a wild scrabble of paws, and Patch was at the front door, snuffing the sill and whining tremulously….
Valerie got upon her feet.
"What is it, Patch?" she said. "He isn't here yet."
For a second the terrier listened.
The next moment he was almost beating himself against the woodwork.
Letter in hand, Valerie crossed the hall and opened the door.
The dog rushed out into the drive.
For a moment he stood there, plainly straining his ears.
An instant later he was flying down the avenue….
* * * * *
The glow of the sunset faded. Evening gave way to dusk. Night stole into her throne-room…. One by one, men, spent with their labour, went to their rest. Pillowed upon the bosom of the country-side, villages fell asleep. And through them, while they slept, a little white dog went pelting breathlessly under the cold moonlight—now running, now dropping to a fast walk, now hesitating, now plunging on desperately, sometimes to the east, sometimes to the west, but in the main northward … due north, sirs … in the direction of the Cotswold Hills.