Chapter Twenty Six.A Moonlight Walk.Cynthia wrote to beg that Betty would soon come down to see her, and bring her old pupil to be reintroduced to his mentor, but time passed by, and one day after another was vetoed by Miles himself. Betty was nonplussed. It seemed as if he did not want to go. Yet she could hardly believe that such could be the case, when she recalled to memory the tone of his voice, the look on his face when, for the first and last time since his return, Miles had voluntarily mentioned Cynthia’s name.“It is quite an easy journey. We can get there in less than two hours by an express train, stay for lunch and tea, and get home again in time for dinner. I’ve been down twice this spring, and it is quite easily managed,” she protested; but Miles would do nothing but grunt, and refuse a definite answer. To spend three or four hours in Franton, a large proportion of which would be taken up in eating meals, and talking to other people—this was not his idea of a first visit to Cynthia after six years of absence. He continued to grunt and make objections for the next few weeks, and then one night at dinner he announced airily—“I’ve taken rooms at the Grand at Franton for a week from Friday. I thought, as we were going down in any case, we might as well do the thing comfortably, and have a breath of sea-air. Awfully stuffy in town this last week! They say the Grand is the best hotel, and we shall be fairly comfortable there. Four bedrooms, and a private sitting-room for you, mater, in case you want to be quiet. Gerard’s coming along; and you’ll come too—over Sunday, at least—I hope, father?”“Over Sunday, certainly. I can manage that very well; and perhaps Horton can take on my work for a few days. There are no very serious cases on at present, and a rest would be very delightful!” said the tired doctor with a sigh. His wife brightened instantly at the thought of his pleasure, while Betty and Jill flushed with excitement.Rooms at the Grand! The best hotel, where perchance they might be “comfortable”! They had never before stayed in an hotel; lodgings, and cheap lodgings into the bargain, had been their portion on the occasion of their rare holiday-makings. The grandeur of the prospect drove out every other thought, and, to his own immense relief, Miles escaped embarrassing comments on his sadden change of front.“I hope we shan’t have meals in the private room,” Jill said anxiously. “The great fun of staying in an hotel is to see the people, and—er—”“Be seen by the people?”“Exactly! Especially the latter. Don’t ask me to do a single thing before Friday, for I shan’t have a second to spare. I’m off remnant-hunting this morning, and shall be glued to the sewing-machine for the rest of the time. Two new blouses at least Imusthave, if I am to pose before the public eye—”“Oh, bother remnants! We’ll go to Regent Street this morning, and buy half a dozen blouses between you. I am not going to take you to an hotel in remnants!” cried Miles with masculine scorn.Since his return from abroad the eldest son of the family displayed a disregard of money which seemed next door to criminal in the eyes of his careful relations. Why worry to make up a blouse for three-and-sixpence when you can buy a better one for three guineas? That was his present attitude of mind; and when the girls hesitated,—fascinated yet fearful,—the reply was always the same—“I’ve slaved hard enough all these years! This is my holiday. I’ve come home to enjoy myself, and see you enjoy yourselves, and I’m not going to worry my head about shillings. For pity’s sake take what you can get, and don’t fuss!”It is the attitude of all men who come back to civilisation after a long absence, and in Miles’ case it could truthfully be said that his extravagances benefited other people infinitely more than himself.It was a very merry party which travelled down to Franton a few days later, and the comfort and grandeur of the hotel exceeded even the girls’ expectation. All the bedrooms secured were situated on the front, and were provided with dear little balconies, on which they could sit and gaze over the sea. The drawing-room was a gorgeous apartment—all yellow satin and white archways, and banks of flowers. The dining-hall was dotted over with little tables, a larger one in a bay-window being reserved for the Trevor party. The lounge was provided with innumerable couches and wicker chairs, in which one could loll at ease, scrutinising the other visitors, or submitting to scrutiny on one’s own account, with a delightful consciousness of a Regent Street blouse. The gardens and shrubberies would have been quite irresistible, had it not been that just beyond their bounds stretched the firm golden sands, on which the white-crested waves broke with a siren sound.“Go to bed without a walk on the shore by moonlight—I can’t andwon’t, not if ten fathers, and fifty thousand mothers went down on their knees and implored me to be prudent!” asserted audacious Jill, as she finished her after-dinner coffee; whereupon Dr Trevor laughed good-naturedly, and said—“There’s only one father present, and the only knees he possesses are much too stiff to exert themselves in a hopeless cause! Run along, my dear; I should have felt the same at your age. Put on a shawl. Miles, you will see that your sisters don’t run wild, and that they come in by a sensible hour.”So the four young people wandered along the sands, and watched the moonlight play upon the waters; but there was no need of the last part of the doctor’s warning, for even Jill grew quiet and subdued, and forgot to tease and banter. Coming fresh from the noisy, crowded city, there was something inexpressibly impressive in the long stretch of sand, the dark, mysterious waters, the loneliness, the silence, broken only by the rhythmic break of the waves.Miles walked alone, his face lifted now and again to the top of the cliff on which stood the villa which the Alliots had hired for the summer months. Betty looked across the waste of waters, and felt a pang of compunction. How long was it since she had last thought of her friend across the sea? Fainter and more faint had his image been growing, until from forming a constant background to her thoughts, it had become a positive effort to remember. She turned aside from Will Gerard’s whispered words, and passed her hand through her brother’s arm. To be beside Miles was in itself an incentive to loyalty.Next morning at eleven o’clock, Betty and Miles started to walk up to the Alliots’ villa, leaving Jill and Will Gerard seated on the shore throwing pebbles into the sea, with every appearance of satisfaction with themselves, and their occupation. The path was steep but not very long, and at the entrance to the garden Mrs Alliot was strolling about, as if awaiting their arrival. She kissed Betty and patted her affectionately on the shoulder.“Cynthia is waiting for you. Run along to her, dear! I will follow with your brother, and hear some of his news,” she said in a light tone which yet held a hint of command, and, when Betty disappeared, she turned in an opposite direction, so as to take the least direct path to the house.“I am sure your mother is delighted to have you back! It is delightful that you have been so successful in your work. We have been so interested in your adventures.”The short conventional sentences were the only references made to Miles’ own affairs, and then, as if in a hurry to get to the subject most on her mind, Mrs Alliot began to speak of her daughter.“You will be surprised to find Cynthia looking so well. She has put on flesh during the last few months, and the sea-air has given her a colour. Last winter she was painfully thin. It has been a long uphill struggle, but now at last we begin to see definite improvement. The doctors are confident that it will be a complete cure if we are very careful during the next two or three years. The great thing is to live in pure bracing air, and to keep her happy and cheerful. Anything that caused agitation or worry of any kind, would have a deleterious effect. She has a very sensitive nature, and things go deeply with her,—more deeply than with most girls. Her father and I hide all worries from her, even our anxiety about herself. We, and all the friends who love her, must unite in doing everything in our power to spare her during these all-important years. I know you will understand the position.”“Yes,” said Miles quietly, “I perfectly understand.”He had grown very white beneath his tan, and Mrs Alliot, glancing swiftly at him, felt a pang of compunction. Poor young fellow, it was hard on him, if he really cared! Yet she had done no more than her duty in warning him that he could not be allowed to disturb Cynthia’s peace of mind. So far, the girl was fancy free, but her interest in the return of her boy-friend was so strong that a word, a look, a hint of his own feeling might be sufficient to fan it into a stronger flame.“But now that I have spoken he knows how things are, and he is a good fellow! He will think of her before himself,” said Cynthia’s mother to herself with a sigh of relief.For the rest of the way to the house Mrs Alliot talked on impersonal subjects, and Miles answered with colourless politeness; then, at last, across a wide green lawn, a sun shelter came into view, in which Betty could be discerned, and someone else in a white dress lying on a couch banked up with blue cushions.“There are the girls! Don’t wait for me! Go across the lawn,” said Mrs Alliot kindly.When one has dealt the one great blow, it is easy enough to make trifling concessions, reflected Miles bitterly, as he strode forward; but the next moment all bitterness died away as he grasped a thin white hand, and looked down into a face which was at once strange, and exquisitely familiar. Cynthia, but Cynthia as a woman, no longer a schoolgirl; Cynthia with her golden mane wound smoothly round her head, with blue shadows under the sweet eyes, and hollows where the dimples used to dip in the rounded cheeks. At the first glance the air of delicacy was painfully pronounced, but as she smiled and flushed, the old merry Cynthia looked at him once more.“Miles! Is it really you? I can hardly believe it! Such a great, big man! Oh, but I’m glad! I’m glad to see you again! Sit down, sit down. Let me see you properly. I mayn’t get up from this horrid couch. Yes, it’s you! I’d know your eyes anywhere, and the moustache is nice—a very fine moustache, Miles! I’m glad the beard is off. I like your square chin. It is lovely to have you all here, and to know you have not to run away in a few hours. I’m looking forward immensely to the next week. Old Miles! Itisgood to see you!”She laughed and coughed, and lent back against the cushions, pushing them into place with an impatient hand; while Miles stared at her in an intent silence which printed every detail so deeply in his memory that no passage of time could wear them away. The loose ends of hair which escaped from the coils and curled on her white neck, the long transparent hands against the blue cushions, the slight figure in the white dress—how often that vision arose before him in the years to come!As of old, Cynthia’s friendliness showed no hint of embarrassment, and she chatted away as easily as if the separation had lasted for weeks instead of years. Betty had tactfully rejoined Mrs Alliot, and for the next half-hour Miles was allowed an uninterruptedtête-à-tête.“Tell me all about everything!” cried Cynthia, just as years before she had demanded an account of Miles’ engineering studies; and when he protested, “Oh, it’s quite easy,” she maintained, “Tell me the history of a day. You wake in the morning, and get up, and then—what next? Go through the whole programme until it is time to go to bed again.”Then Miles spoke, and she listened eagerly, the flush dying out of her cheeks and a wistful expression deepening in her eyes.“It’s just as I said long ago,” she sighed plaintively when he had finished; “you have gone out into the world and done things, and I have stayed at home and done—nothing! Oh, Miles, it was hard being taken ill just then! Father had come home, and we were looking forward to travelling about, and having a good time together, and being so happy. I had finished classes, and was old enough to come out, and I meant to be such a good daughter, and to take care of the parents for a change, after being taken care of all my life. I was going to my first ball—my dress was in the house—when I caught influenza, and since then”—she threw out her arms with an expressive gesture—“it’s been this sort of thing all the time! Lying still—eating—sleeping—being waited on hand and foot; an anxiety instead of a help; a care instead of a joy—oh, and Ididwant to be a joy!” She paused a moment to press her lips together, and to give her head an impatient shake. “I mustn’t be silly! Father and mother don’t guess that I feel like this, and it isn’t always so bad. Some days I feel quite bright and happy, especially lately, since I’ve been getting better, but seeing you brought back the dear old days, and oh, Iwantto be well again, and run about with you on the sands. I shan’t be able to go about with you at all.”“I will come and sit with you as often as I may—as long as I may,” said Miles huskily whereupon Cynthia smiled on him again.“How nice of you! Ah yes, you must come. I’ll keep quite quiet for the rest of the day, and then I can talk while you are here. There’s so much I want to tell, and to hear!”She coughed again, and brushed her hair from her brow, evidently fatigued by her own emotion. The dainty finish and grace of her appearance, which had been the greatest charm in Miles’ eyes long ago, was accentuated by her illness into a fragility which made her seem more like a spirit than a flesh-and-blood woman to his unaccustomed eyes. His thoughts raced back for a moment to the scene of his Mexican home, and he realised the folly of the dream which had for so long made the half-conscious background of his thoughts. Even if she were willing, even if she loved him, as he loved and would always love her, it would be a madman who could dream of transplanting this fragile flower to those rude surroundings. Cynthia was not for him! Their lives, for the present at least, lay far apart. As for the future, that was in God’s hands; it would be selfish and cowardly to try to ensure it for himself. Miles’ heart was wrung with the agony of renunciation, but his set face showed no signs of his suffering. He cheered Cynthia with renewed promises of daily visits, chatted with her of old friends and old times, and had the reward of hearing her laugh with the old merry ring. When he took her hand in farewell, she looked at him with frank eyes, and said sweetly—“I’m sorry I grumbled—it was wrong of me when I’m so well off. I do try to be good, but I was always impatient—you used to laugh when I said so, but it was true. This illness may be just what I need—‘They also serve, who only stand and wait’—I think so often of that line, and try to wait in patience, but it is hard—the hardest thing in the world, sometimes!”“Yes,” said Miles quietly, “the very hardest?”
Cynthia wrote to beg that Betty would soon come down to see her, and bring her old pupil to be reintroduced to his mentor, but time passed by, and one day after another was vetoed by Miles himself. Betty was nonplussed. It seemed as if he did not want to go. Yet she could hardly believe that such could be the case, when she recalled to memory the tone of his voice, the look on his face when, for the first and last time since his return, Miles had voluntarily mentioned Cynthia’s name.
“It is quite an easy journey. We can get there in less than two hours by an express train, stay for lunch and tea, and get home again in time for dinner. I’ve been down twice this spring, and it is quite easily managed,” she protested; but Miles would do nothing but grunt, and refuse a definite answer. To spend three or four hours in Franton, a large proportion of which would be taken up in eating meals, and talking to other people—this was not his idea of a first visit to Cynthia after six years of absence. He continued to grunt and make objections for the next few weeks, and then one night at dinner he announced airily—
“I’ve taken rooms at the Grand at Franton for a week from Friday. I thought, as we were going down in any case, we might as well do the thing comfortably, and have a breath of sea-air. Awfully stuffy in town this last week! They say the Grand is the best hotel, and we shall be fairly comfortable there. Four bedrooms, and a private sitting-room for you, mater, in case you want to be quiet. Gerard’s coming along; and you’ll come too—over Sunday, at least—I hope, father?”
“Over Sunday, certainly. I can manage that very well; and perhaps Horton can take on my work for a few days. There are no very serious cases on at present, and a rest would be very delightful!” said the tired doctor with a sigh. His wife brightened instantly at the thought of his pleasure, while Betty and Jill flushed with excitement.
Rooms at the Grand! The best hotel, where perchance they might be “comfortable”! They had never before stayed in an hotel; lodgings, and cheap lodgings into the bargain, had been their portion on the occasion of their rare holiday-makings. The grandeur of the prospect drove out every other thought, and, to his own immense relief, Miles escaped embarrassing comments on his sadden change of front.
“I hope we shan’t have meals in the private room,” Jill said anxiously. “The great fun of staying in an hotel is to see the people, and—er—”
“Be seen by the people?”
“Exactly! Especially the latter. Don’t ask me to do a single thing before Friday, for I shan’t have a second to spare. I’m off remnant-hunting this morning, and shall be glued to the sewing-machine for the rest of the time. Two new blouses at least Imusthave, if I am to pose before the public eye—”
“Oh, bother remnants! We’ll go to Regent Street this morning, and buy half a dozen blouses between you. I am not going to take you to an hotel in remnants!” cried Miles with masculine scorn.
Since his return from abroad the eldest son of the family displayed a disregard of money which seemed next door to criminal in the eyes of his careful relations. Why worry to make up a blouse for three-and-sixpence when you can buy a better one for three guineas? That was his present attitude of mind; and when the girls hesitated,—fascinated yet fearful,—the reply was always the same—
“I’ve slaved hard enough all these years! This is my holiday. I’ve come home to enjoy myself, and see you enjoy yourselves, and I’m not going to worry my head about shillings. For pity’s sake take what you can get, and don’t fuss!”
It is the attitude of all men who come back to civilisation after a long absence, and in Miles’ case it could truthfully be said that his extravagances benefited other people infinitely more than himself.
It was a very merry party which travelled down to Franton a few days later, and the comfort and grandeur of the hotel exceeded even the girls’ expectation. All the bedrooms secured were situated on the front, and were provided with dear little balconies, on which they could sit and gaze over the sea. The drawing-room was a gorgeous apartment—all yellow satin and white archways, and banks of flowers. The dining-hall was dotted over with little tables, a larger one in a bay-window being reserved for the Trevor party. The lounge was provided with innumerable couches and wicker chairs, in which one could loll at ease, scrutinising the other visitors, or submitting to scrutiny on one’s own account, with a delightful consciousness of a Regent Street blouse. The gardens and shrubberies would have been quite irresistible, had it not been that just beyond their bounds stretched the firm golden sands, on which the white-crested waves broke with a siren sound.
“Go to bed without a walk on the shore by moonlight—I can’t andwon’t, not if ten fathers, and fifty thousand mothers went down on their knees and implored me to be prudent!” asserted audacious Jill, as she finished her after-dinner coffee; whereupon Dr Trevor laughed good-naturedly, and said—
“There’s only one father present, and the only knees he possesses are much too stiff to exert themselves in a hopeless cause! Run along, my dear; I should have felt the same at your age. Put on a shawl. Miles, you will see that your sisters don’t run wild, and that they come in by a sensible hour.”
So the four young people wandered along the sands, and watched the moonlight play upon the waters; but there was no need of the last part of the doctor’s warning, for even Jill grew quiet and subdued, and forgot to tease and banter. Coming fresh from the noisy, crowded city, there was something inexpressibly impressive in the long stretch of sand, the dark, mysterious waters, the loneliness, the silence, broken only by the rhythmic break of the waves.
Miles walked alone, his face lifted now and again to the top of the cliff on which stood the villa which the Alliots had hired for the summer months. Betty looked across the waste of waters, and felt a pang of compunction. How long was it since she had last thought of her friend across the sea? Fainter and more faint had his image been growing, until from forming a constant background to her thoughts, it had become a positive effort to remember. She turned aside from Will Gerard’s whispered words, and passed her hand through her brother’s arm. To be beside Miles was in itself an incentive to loyalty.
Next morning at eleven o’clock, Betty and Miles started to walk up to the Alliots’ villa, leaving Jill and Will Gerard seated on the shore throwing pebbles into the sea, with every appearance of satisfaction with themselves, and their occupation. The path was steep but not very long, and at the entrance to the garden Mrs Alliot was strolling about, as if awaiting their arrival. She kissed Betty and patted her affectionately on the shoulder.
“Cynthia is waiting for you. Run along to her, dear! I will follow with your brother, and hear some of his news,” she said in a light tone which yet held a hint of command, and, when Betty disappeared, she turned in an opposite direction, so as to take the least direct path to the house.
“I am sure your mother is delighted to have you back! It is delightful that you have been so successful in your work. We have been so interested in your adventures.”
The short conventional sentences were the only references made to Miles’ own affairs, and then, as if in a hurry to get to the subject most on her mind, Mrs Alliot began to speak of her daughter.
“You will be surprised to find Cynthia looking so well. She has put on flesh during the last few months, and the sea-air has given her a colour. Last winter she was painfully thin. It has been a long uphill struggle, but now at last we begin to see definite improvement. The doctors are confident that it will be a complete cure if we are very careful during the next two or three years. The great thing is to live in pure bracing air, and to keep her happy and cheerful. Anything that caused agitation or worry of any kind, would have a deleterious effect. She has a very sensitive nature, and things go deeply with her,—more deeply than with most girls. Her father and I hide all worries from her, even our anxiety about herself. We, and all the friends who love her, must unite in doing everything in our power to spare her during these all-important years. I know you will understand the position.”
“Yes,” said Miles quietly, “I perfectly understand.”
He had grown very white beneath his tan, and Mrs Alliot, glancing swiftly at him, felt a pang of compunction. Poor young fellow, it was hard on him, if he really cared! Yet she had done no more than her duty in warning him that he could not be allowed to disturb Cynthia’s peace of mind. So far, the girl was fancy free, but her interest in the return of her boy-friend was so strong that a word, a look, a hint of his own feeling might be sufficient to fan it into a stronger flame.
“But now that I have spoken he knows how things are, and he is a good fellow! He will think of her before himself,” said Cynthia’s mother to herself with a sigh of relief.
For the rest of the way to the house Mrs Alliot talked on impersonal subjects, and Miles answered with colourless politeness; then, at last, across a wide green lawn, a sun shelter came into view, in which Betty could be discerned, and someone else in a white dress lying on a couch banked up with blue cushions.
“There are the girls! Don’t wait for me! Go across the lawn,” said Mrs Alliot kindly.
When one has dealt the one great blow, it is easy enough to make trifling concessions, reflected Miles bitterly, as he strode forward; but the next moment all bitterness died away as he grasped a thin white hand, and looked down into a face which was at once strange, and exquisitely familiar. Cynthia, but Cynthia as a woman, no longer a schoolgirl; Cynthia with her golden mane wound smoothly round her head, with blue shadows under the sweet eyes, and hollows where the dimples used to dip in the rounded cheeks. At the first glance the air of delicacy was painfully pronounced, but as she smiled and flushed, the old merry Cynthia looked at him once more.
“Miles! Is it really you? I can hardly believe it! Such a great, big man! Oh, but I’m glad! I’m glad to see you again! Sit down, sit down. Let me see you properly. I mayn’t get up from this horrid couch. Yes, it’s you! I’d know your eyes anywhere, and the moustache is nice—a very fine moustache, Miles! I’m glad the beard is off. I like your square chin. It is lovely to have you all here, and to know you have not to run away in a few hours. I’m looking forward immensely to the next week. Old Miles! Itisgood to see you!”
She laughed and coughed, and lent back against the cushions, pushing them into place with an impatient hand; while Miles stared at her in an intent silence which printed every detail so deeply in his memory that no passage of time could wear them away. The loose ends of hair which escaped from the coils and curled on her white neck, the long transparent hands against the blue cushions, the slight figure in the white dress—how often that vision arose before him in the years to come!
As of old, Cynthia’s friendliness showed no hint of embarrassment, and she chatted away as easily as if the separation had lasted for weeks instead of years. Betty had tactfully rejoined Mrs Alliot, and for the next half-hour Miles was allowed an uninterruptedtête-à-tête.
“Tell me all about everything!” cried Cynthia, just as years before she had demanded an account of Miles’ engineering studies; and when he protested, “Oh, it’s quite easy,” she maintained, “Tell me the history of a day. You wake in the morning, and get up, and then—what next? Go through the whole programme until it is time to go to bed again.”
Then Miles spoke, and she listened eagerly, the flush dying out of her cheeks and a wistful expression deepening in her eyes.
“It’s just as I said long ago,” she sighed plaintively when he had finished; “you have gone out into the world and done things, and I have stayed at home and done—nothing! Oh, Miles, it was hard being taken ill just then! Father had come home, and we were looking forward to travelling about, and having a good time together, and being so happy. I had finished classes, and was old enough to come out, and I meant to be such a good daughter, and to take care of the parents for a change, after being taken care of all my life. I was going to my first ball—my dress was in the house—when I caught influenza, and since then”—she threw out her arms with an expressive gesture—“it’s been this sort of thing all the time! Lying still—eating—sleeping—being waited on hand and foot; an anxiety instead of a help; a care instead of a joy—oh, and Ididwant to be a joy!” She paused a moment to press her lips together, and to give her head an impatient shake. “I mustn’t be silly! Father and mother don’t guess that I feel like this, and it isn’t always so bad. Some days I feel quite bright and happy, especially lately, since I’ve been getting better, but seeing you brought back the dear old days, and oh, Iwantto be well again, and run about with you on the sands. I shan’t be able to go about with you at all.”
“I will come and sit with you as often as I may—as long as I may,” said Miles huskily whereupon Cynthia smiled on him again.
“How nice of you! Ah yes, you must come. I’ll keep quite quiet for the rest of the day, and then I can talk while you are here. There’s so much I want to tell, and to hear!”
She coughed again, and brushed her hair from her brow, evidently fatigued by her own emotion. The dainty finish and grace of her appearance, which had been the greatest charm in Miles’ eyes long ago, was accentuated by her illness into a fragility which made her seem more like a spirit than a flesh-and-blood woman to his unaccustomed eyes. His thoughts raced back for a moment to the scene of his Mexican home, and he realised the folly of the dream which had for so long made the half-conscious background of his thoughts. Even if she were willing, even if she loved him, as he loved and would always love her, it would be a madman who could dream of transplanting this fragile flower to those rude surroundings. Cynthia was not for him! Their lives, for the present at least, lay far apart. As for the future, that was in God’s hands; it would be selfish and cowardly to try to ensure it for himself. Miles’ heart was wrung with the agony of renunciation, but his set face showed no signs of his suffering. He cheered Cynthia with renewed promises of daily visits, chatted with her of old friends and old times, and had the reward of hearing her laugh with the old merry ring. When he took her hand in farewell, she looked at him with frank eyes, and said sweetly—
“I’m sorry I grumbled—it was wrong of me when I’m so well off. I do try to be good, but I was always impatient—you used to laugh when I said so, but it was true. This illness may be just what I need—‘They also serve, who only stand and wait’—I think so often of that line, and try to wait in patience, but it is hard—the hardest thing in the world, sometimes!”
“Yes,” said Miles quietly, “the very hardest?”
Chapter Twenty Seven.Explanations.It was a very happy week. The weather was all that could be desired for a seaside holiday,—bright yet not glaring, warm but not hot. The hotel was everything that was luxurious and comfortable, and, last and best of all, Cynthia kept bright and happy, and was better—not worse—for the visits of her old friends.Every morning Betty accompanied Miles up to the villa, leaving Mr Gerard and Jill busy playing tennis, roving about on the shore, or engaged in that other engrossing occupation of throwing stones. For the first day or two she made excuses, and strolled away to join Mrs Alliot, but it soon became apparent to her quick senses that neither that lady nor, strangely enough, Miles himself encouraged these well-meant excursions. So for the rest of the time she sat in the shelter by Cynthia’s couch, and joined frankly in the conversation. Sometimes Miles would be silent for almost the whole morning, listening while the two friends talked together as girls will—a pretty, innocent, sweet-hearted chatter of home and friends and books and dresses, and “Do you remember,” and “Oh, just suppose,” which unconsciously revealed the character of both.Absorbed as he was in Cynthia and all that belonged to her, Miles was more than once arrested by Betty herself, and asked himself if it could be true or only imagination that she had gained immensely in beauty, softness, and general charm since his return five weeks ago. There was an expression on her face in these last days which transfigured the old Betty into something a hundred times sweeter and more attractive. Happiness enveloped her as an atmosphere,—an almost tremulous happiness, as of one fearful of her own joy. Miles felt assured that Cynthia noticed this new development as he did himself, as he saw the grey eyes rest on her friend’s face with a tender wistfulness of gaze, and heard the fluttering sigh with which she turned aside.Never again had Cynthia breathed a word of complaint for her own limitations. After that first involuntary outburst she had carefully steered clear of the subject of self, and thrown herself heart and soul into her companion’s interest. It was only when the last day of the short visit had been reached that she alluded to her own plans.“We are ordered to leave Franton. It is very hot and oppressive in July and August, and the doctors want us to go to some high mountain resort in Switzerland. We shall move on by easy stages as soon as possible—possibly next week. It is quite uncertain what we shall do for the autumn and winter; we may possibly move on to the Engadine. In any case I’m afraid it is unlikely that we shall return to England. Will there be any chance of seeing you when we return in spring, Miles?”And then Betty received a shock, for Miles replied quietly—“I shall be back in Mexico long before then. I don’t think I shall take more than three months’ holiday this time. One gets tired of loafing after a busy life. I shall want to get back to work.”“Miles, how can you!” cried his sister shrilly. “Three months! In another seven weeks—it’s impossible! We have hardly had time to realise that you are home. We made sure that you would be with us till after Christmas at least. Three months’ holiday after all these years! Oh, Miles, you can’t mean it!”“I came home to see you all, Betty, and to satisfy myself that you were well; when that’s done there’s no more excuse for lazying. I am entitled to a year’s rest, if I like to take it; but if I go back now I shall be nine months nearer my next visit; and if the mine does all that we expect, I shall be back sooner than you imagine. Three years—even two—may see me home again, and then—things may be changed—it may be easier to stay—!”He kept his eyes lowered as he spoke, but Betty understood. Perhaps Cynthia did too, for her pale cheeks flushed, and she made not a word of comment.When Miles rose a few minutes later, she said “Good-bye” to him in exactly the same words which she had used six years before—“Good-bye, Miles. I won’t forget!”And Miles crushed her little hands in his, and walked silently away.At the gate Mrs Alliot was awaiting him, as on the morning of his first visit. She looked wistfully at the stern, white face, then laid her hand on his arm, and said in a tremulous voice—“Mr Trevor—I—I want to thank you! You have been very brave and kind. Don’t think I have not understood—mothers always understand—but for Cynthia’s sake I was obliged to be selfish. It might have undone all she has gained, to have had any great excitement or agitation. She is very young yet—only twenty-two—and she looks upon you as a friend of her school-days. It was better for every reason that your relations should remain unchanged.”Then Miles faced her, a tall imposing figure drawn to his full height, with shoulders squared and flashing eyes.“For the present, yes! I have respected your wishes, and put my own hopes on one side. Now I am going back to work like ten men rather than one. If things go as we expect—as we have a right to expect—in a few years’ time I shall be able to live where I please, to choose my home where it best suits myself—and others. If I live, Mrs Alliot, I shall be home again in a few years’ time, and then I warn you that nothing and nobody shall keep me apart from Cynthia if she will be my wife. If she has recovered—well! If she is ill—I will take care of her! I have served for her six years already. I will serve six more if needs be, but I shall claim her in the end!”“And if it is God’s will that she lives and loves you, I will give her to you gladly. You are a good man, Miles. God bless you! All good go with you!” said Mrs Alliot warmly.Then they shook hands and parted. For how long? It was impossible to say. Before Miles lay the far country, danger by land and sea, a hard, adventurous life; before Cynthia years of what at the best must be a slow, difficult convalescence, with the ever-present danger of a relapse into her old condition. Only God knew, Who holds the issue of time. Their greatest stronghold lay in their confidence in Him.That evening Betty sat beside Will Gerard on the sloping beach, and watched the sun set in a silence tinged with melancholy. Miles’ announcement of a speedy return to America had planted a dart in her heart which was not solely on his own account; for if he went, would not his partner go too, leaving her to a life of such blank emptiness as was terrifying to contemplate? All day long the thought had haunted her; she had longed yet dreaded to speak on the subject, and now that evening was here, she felt it impossible to face the long hours of the night without some certain knowledge.A few minutes before, Miles had taken Jill for a walk along the sands; in a short time they would return, and the opportunity for quiet conversation would be over. Betty turned slowly, to meet her companion’s deep-set eyes fixed intently on her face. He had fallen into a habit of watching her in this earnest manner, and was often able to divine her thoughts even before she spoke.“What is it?” he asked gently. “Something is troubling you. Won’t you tell me what it is?”“It’s Miles! He said this morning that he intended to take only three months’ holiday—that means to leave England in six or seven weeks from now. I can’t believe it. We counted on six months or more,—possibly even a year. Do you think he seriously means to go?”“I am sure he does, and I think he is right. If you want to be really kind, Miss Trevor, you won’t ask him to stay.”Betty’s lips trembled.“Oh, perhaps not, but it is hardest of all to feel that hewantsto go; that with all our love and care we are so much outside his life that we can’t make him happy or satisfied. Poor mother! It must be dreadful to bring up a child all those years, and to long and long for his return, and then see him in a hurry to rush away again, just because—oh, I know that you know the real reason—because of a girl of whom, after all, he has seen very little! It’s very hard!”“Yes, it is hard—but it is the natural course of events, and I am sure Mrs Trevor realises that Miles is one of the best sons that it is possible for a woman to have. He doesn’t love you any the less because he feels the need of getting back to his work. A man must work if he has any trouble weighing upon him; it is the only safe way of letting off steam. Fortunately there is plenty for him to do, and the chances are good for a speedy return.”He paused, and Betty turned her head aside, and gazed over the darkening sea.“And—you?” she asked softly. “Will you go too?”“That depends.”“On business?”“Partly. If things go on as well as they have started, the company will be floated in another month, and I shall be of more use at the other end than here. I have made no plans, however. There are other considerations which come even before business.”He paused again, as if waiting to be questioned, but Betty did not speak. The gentle break of the water was the only sound which broke the silence. Afar off she could just distinguish the dark, retreating figures of Miles and Jill. She stared at them, at the sea, the sky, anywhere except at that pale, eager face which was watching her so intently.“Betty,” breathed a low voice by her side, “you know what I mean! You know that my going or staying depends upon yourself—that the happiness of my life is in your hands! Are you going to be kind to me, Betty? Will you let me love you?”She drew herself away from him with a cry of protest, almost startling in its suddenness.“Oh no, no! I cannot—I must not listen! It is quite impossible. Please don’t say any more. I cannot listen to you!”“But, Betty,”—he put out his hand and took forcible possession of the little cold fingers—“I must speak. We must have this out, and be honest with each other. Dear!—don’t think me presumptuous, but lately I have fancied that you did care a little bit for me, and were not perfectly indifferent whether I came or stayed. Was I quite mistaken? Can you look me in the eyes, Betty, and say that I am no more to you than any other man?”Betty did not attempt to meet his eyes, and her disclaimer was transparently artificial.“Oh, of course you are Miles’ friend, naturally it is different—but I can’t be engaged to anybody. It’s impossible. Please, please believe that I know what I say!”“Not unless you tell me the reason why it is impossible. Is there someone else, Betty? Someone whom you love better than me?”“No—yes! I don’t know if I love him, but I have always felt as if I belonged to him, and must wait till he came back. You would think me mad if you knew the whole story. I sometimes think I am mad myself, but I feel as if I should be betraying a trust if I married another man.”Will Gerard sat very still for a moment. Then: “Tell me about it!” he said hoarsely. “Tell me! I ought to know. Perhaps I shall understand.”“I don’t understand myself,” said Betty sadly. “I have tried not to care for you, but I do care in spite of trying. When I thought of you going away, my heart stood still, but the other thing has gone on so long; it has been part of my life, and even for your sake I can’t forget it. If I could be sure that he was well and happy, and had found someone else to love him, then to be your wife would be the greatest happiness in the world; but until I hear, I feel—bound! We only met once. That sounds mad enough, doesn’t it? And I know nothing of him but his Christian name. It was an evening more than six years ago; we had been at a concert at the Albert Hall, and when we came out there was a black fog, and I lost Miles, and met this man, who brought me home instead. He was in great trouble—I found it out from something he said—in such terrible trouble that he had lost all hope, and made up his mind to commit suicide. That was the first time that I had ever been brought face to face with real trouble, and it changed my whole life. Think of it! I was coming back to my happy home from an afternoon’s pleasure, and he—was going to the river...”Will Gerard had been sitting listening to her with his head buried in his hands, but at the sound of that last word he raised his face, and turned towards her with a sudden, passionate gesture.“And you came to him like a good angel in the midst of the darkness—came to him without a face or a name,—just as a girl’s sweet voice bidding him take courage, and sending him out to a fresh battle! And all these years you have treasured him in your faithful heart, and waited for his return; and he has waited too, Betty, and worked hard—worked for you with the thought of you before him! And now that he can repay his debts and look the world in the face once more, he comes to you for his reward. Betty, Betty, a man may have more names than one—is my face quite strange to you? Have you never seen it before—in a half light like this, lit by a flickering flame? Betty,look! What do you see?”She gave a little gasp of incredulity—rapture—relief, and held out her hands towards him.“Ralph, Ralph! It is you—you have come home!”So the long dream was fulfilled, and the fairy prince threw off his disguise, and showed himself in the shape of the struggler who had bravely redeemed a past offence. In loving one, she could love both. Past and present united in bestowing a perfect happiness. Betty held Ralph’s hands in her own, and looked deep into his eyes.The End.
It was a very happy week. The weather was all that could be desired for a seaside holiday,—bright yet not glaring, warm but not hot. The hotel was everything that was luxurious and comfortable, and, last and best of all, Cynthia kept bright and happy, and was better—not worse—for the visits of her old friends.
Every morning Betty accompanied Miles up to the villa, leaving Mr Gerard and Jill busy playing tennis, roving about on the shore, or engaged in that other engrossing occupation of throwing stones. For the first day or two she made excuses, and strolled away to join Mrs Alliot, but it soon became apparent to her quick senses that neither that lady nor, strangely enough, Miles himself encouraged these well-meant excursions. So for the rest of the time she sat in the shelter by Cynthia’s couch, and joined frankly in the conversation. Sometimes Miles would be silent for almost the whole morning, listening while the two friends talked together as girls will—a pretty, innocent, sweet-hearted chatter of home and friends and books and dresses, and “Do you remember,” and “Oh, just suppose,” which unconsciously revealed the character of both.
Absorbed as he was in Cynthia and all that belonged to her, Miles was more than once arrested by Betty herself, and asked himself if it could be true or only imagination that she had gained immensely in beauty, softness, and general charm since his return five weeks ago. There was an expression on her face in these last days which transfigured the old Betty into something a hundred times sweeter and more attractive. Happiness enveloped her as an atmosphere,—an almost tremulous happiness, as of one fearful of her own joy. Miles felt assured that Cynthia noticed this new development as he did himself, as he saw the grey eyes rest on her friend’s face with a tender wistfulness of gaze, and heard the fluttering sigh with which she turned aside.
Never again had Cynthia breathed a word of complaint for her own limitations. After that first involuntary outburst she had carefully steered clear of the subject of self, and thrown herself heart and soul into her companion’s interest. It was only when the last day of the short visit had been reached that she alluded to her own plans.
“We are ordered to leave Franton. It is very hot and oppressive in July and August, and the doctors want us to go to some high mountain resort in Switzerland. We shall move on by easy stages as soon as possible—possibly next week. It is quite uncertain what we shall do for the autumn and winter; we may possibly move on to the Engadine. In any case I’m afraid it is unlikely that we shall return to England. Will there be any chance of seeing you when we return in spring, Miles?”
And then Betty received a shock, for Miles replied quietly—
“I shall be back in Mexico long before then. I don’t think I shall take more than three months’ holiday this time. One gets tired of loafing after a busy life. I shall want to get back to work.”
“Miles, how can you!” cried his sister shrilly. “Three months! In another seven weeks—it’s impossible! We have hardly had time to realise that you are home. We made sure that you would be with us till after Christmas at least. Three months’ holiday after all these years! Oh, Miles, you can’t mean it!”
“I came home to see you all, Betty, and to satisfy myself that you were well; when that’s done there’s no more excuse for lazying. I am entitled to a year’s rest, if I like to take it; but if I go back now I shall be nine months nearer my next visit; and if the mine does all that we expect, I shall be back sooner than you imagine. Three years—even two—may see me home again, and then—things may be changed—it may be easier to stay—!”
He kept his eyes lowered as he spoke, but Betty understood. Perhaps Cynthia did too, for her pale cheeks flushed, and she made not a word of comment.
When Miles rose a few minutes later, she said “Good-bye” to him in exactly the same words which she had used six years before—
“Good-bye, Miles. I won’t forget!”
And Miles crushed her little hands in his, and walked silently away.
At the gate Mrs Alliot was awaiting him, as on the morning of his first visit. She looked wistfully at the stern, white face, then laid her hand on his arm, and said in a tremulous voice—
“Mr Trevor—I—I want to thank you! You have been very brave and kind. Don’t think I have not understood—mothers always understand—but for Cynthia’s sake I was obliged to be selfish. It might have undone all she has gained, to have had any great excitement or agitation. She is very young yet—only twenty-two—and she looks upon you as a friend of her school-days. It was better for every reason that your relations should remain unchanged.”
Then Miles faced her, a tall imposing figure drawn to his full height, with shoulders squared and flashing eyes.
“For the present, yes! I have respected your wishes, and put my own hopes on one side. Now I am going back to work like ten men rather than one. If things go as we expect—as we have a right to expect—in a few years’ time I shall be able to live where I please, to choose my home where it best suits myself—and others. If I live, Mrs Alliot, I shall be home again in a few years’ time, and then I warn you that nothing and nobody shall keep me apart from Cynthia if she will be my wife. If she has recovered—well! If she is ill—I will take care of her! I have served for her six years already. I will serve six more if needs be, but I shall claim her in the end!”
“And if it is God’s will that she lives and loves you, I will give her to you gladly. You are a good man, Miles. God bless you! All good go with you!” said Mrs Alliot warmly.
Then they shook hands and parted. For how long? It was impossible to say. Before Miles lay the far country, danger by land and sea, a hard, adventurous life; before Cynthia years of what at the best must be a slow, difficult convalescence, with the ever-present danger of a relapse into her old condition. Only God knew, Who holds the issue of time. Their greatest stronghold lay in their confidence in Him.
That evening Betty sat beside Will Gerard on the sloping beach, and watched the sun set in a silence tinged with melancholy. Miles’ announcement of a speedy return to America had planted a dart in her heart which was not solely on his own account; for if he went, would not his partner go too, leaving her to a life of such blank emptiness as was terrifying to contemplate? All day long the thought had haunted her; she had longed yet dreaded to speak on the subject, and now that evening was here, she felt it impossible to face the long hours of the night without some certain knowledge.
A few minutes before, Miles had taken Jill for a walk along the sands; in a short time they would return, and the opportunity for quiet conversation would be over. Betty turned slowly, to meet her companion’s deep-set eyes fixed intently on her face. He had fallen into a habit of watching her in this earnest manner, and was often able to divine her thoughts even before she spoke.
“What is it?” he asked gently. “Something is troubling you. Won’t you tell me what it is?”
“It’s Miles! He said this morning that he intended to take only three months’ holiday—that means to leave England in six or seven weeks from now. I can’t believe it. We counted on six months or more,—possibly even a year. Do you think he seriously means to go?”
“I am sure he does, and I think he is right. If you want to be really kind, Miss Trevor, you won’t ask him to stay.”
Betty’s lips trembled.
“Oh, perhaps not, but it is hardest of all to feel that hewantsto go; that with all our love and care we are so much outside his life that we can’t make him happy or satisfied. Poor mother! It must be dreadful to bring up a child all those years, and to long and long for his return, and then see him in a hurry to rush away again, just because—oh, I know that you know the real reason—because of a girl of whom, after all, he has seen very little! It’s very hard!”
“Yes, it is hard—but it is the natural course of events, and I am sure Mrs Trevor realises that Miles is one of the best sons that it is possible for a woman to have. He doesn’t love you any the less because he feels the need of getting back to his work. A man must work if he has any trouble weighing upon him; it is the only safe way of letting off steam. Fortunately there is plenty for him to do, and the chances are good for a speedy return.”
He paused, and Betty turned her head aside, and gazed over the darkening sea.
“And—you?” she asked softly. “Will you go too?”
“That depends.”
“On business?”
“Partly. If things go on as well as they have started, the company will be floated in another month, and I shall be of more use at the other end than here. I have made no plans, however. There are other considerations which come even before business.”
He paused again, as if waiting to be questioned, but Betty did not speak. The gentle break of the water was the only sound which broke the silence. Afar off she could just distinguish the dark, retreating figures of Miles and Jill. She stared at them, at the sea, the sky, anywhere except at that pale, eager face which was watching her so intently.
“Betty,” breathed a low voice by her side, “you know what I mean! You know that my going or staying depends upon yourself—that the happiness of my life is in your hands! Are you going to be kind to me, Betty? Will you let me love you?”
She drew herself away from him with a cry of protest, almost startling in its suddenness.
“Oh no, no! I cannot—I must not listen! It is quite impossible. Please don’t say any more. I cannot listen to you!”
“But, Betty,”—he put out his hand and took forcible possession of the little cold fingers—“I must speak. We must have this out, and be honest with each other. Dear!—don’t think me presumptuous, but lately I have fancied that you did care a little bit for me, and were not perfectly indifferent whether I came or stayed. Was I quite mistaken? Can you look me in the eyes, Betty, and say that I am no more to you than any other man?”
Betty did not attempt to meet his eyes, and her disclaimer was transparently artificial.
“Oh, of course you are Miles’ friend, naturally it is different—but I can’t be engaged to anybody. It’s impossible. Please, please believe that I know what I say!”
“Not unless you tell me the reason why it is impossible. Is there someone else, Betty? Someone whom you love better than me?”
“No—yes! I don’t know if I love him, but I have always felt as if I belonged to him, and must wait till he came back. You would think me mad if you knew the whole story. I sometimes think I am mad myself, but I feel as if I should be betraying a trust if I married another man.”
Will Gerard sat very still for a moment. Then: “Tell me about it!” he said hoarsely. “Tell me! I ought to know. Perhaps I shall understand.”
“I don’t understand myself,” said Betty sadly. “I have tried not to care for you, but I do care in spite of trying. When I thought of you going away, my heart stood still, but the other thing has gone on so long; it has been part of my life, and even for your sake I can’t forget it. If I could be sure that he was well and happy, and had found someone else to love him, then to be your wife would be the greatest happiness in the world; but until I hear, I feel—bound! We only met once. That sounds mad enough, doesn’t it? And I know nothing of him but his Christian name. It was an evening more than six years ago; we had been at a concert at the Albert Hall, and when we came out there was a black fog, and I lost Miles, and met this man, who brought me home instead. He was in great trouble—I found it out from something he said—in such terrible trouble that he had lost all hope, and made up his mind to commit suicide. That was the first time that I had ever been brought face to face with real trouble, and it changed my whole life. Think of it! I was coming back to my happy home from an afternoon’s pleasure, and he—was going to the river...”
Will Gerard had been sitting listening to her with his head buried in his hands, but at the sound of that last word he raised his face, and turned towards her with a sudden, passionate gesture.
“And you came to him like a good angel in the midst of the darkness—came to him without a face or a name,—just as a girl’s sweet voice bidding him take courage, and sending him out to a fresh battle! And all these years you have treasured him in your faithful heart, and waited for his return; and he has waited too, Betty, and worked hard—worked for you with the thought of you before him! And now that he can repay his debts and look the world in the face once more, he comes to you for his reward. Betty, Betty, a man may have more names than one—is my face quite strange to you? Have you never seen it before—in a half light like this, lit by a flickering flame? Betty,look! What do you see?”
She gave a little gasp of incredulity—rapture—relief, and held out her hands towards him.
“Ralph, Ralph! It is you—you have come home!”
So the long dream was fulfilled, and the fairy prince threw off his disguise, and showed himself in the shape of the struggler who had bravely redeemed a past offence. In loving one, she could love both. Past and present united in bestowing a perfect happiness. Betty held Ralph’s hands in her own, and looked deep into his eyes.
|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10| |Chapter 11| |Chapter 12| |Chapter 13| |Chapter 14| |Chapter 15| |Chapter 16| |Chapter 17| |Chapter 18| |Chapter 19| |Chapter 20| |Chapter 21| |Chapter 22| |Chapter 23| |Chapter 24| |Chapter 25| |Chapter 26| |Chapter 27|