The Gambler Part 81

"He hasn't come?" she asked quickly. "Oh, I'm so glad! I was terrified that that last gallop might have made me late! How lovely life is!" She came quickly across the room; and, linking her arm in Nance's, buried her face in the heliotrope.

"How lovely life is! And summer! And flowers! Do you know, the sun to-day made me long for Orristown. Think of it all, Nance! Burke and Hannah, and Polly and the dogs! Oh, we must all go there together--you and I, and Pierce and Walter----" She paused suddenly and looked at her sister.

"Nance! You're cross!"

Nance refused to look up.

"Nance, you're cross!" Her voice was less sure--less confident.

Nance caught the tone of hesitancy, and turned quickly round.

"I wish Walter had driven through the park ten minutes ago," she said.

"I do--I really, really do."

Clodagh's face flamed, and she drew away from her sister.

"And I wish----" she began hotly. Then she paused.

The door of the drawing-room was thrown open; and Gore was announced.

For one instant, Clodagh stood hesitating with a new and charming diffidence; the next, all thoughts of self were blotted out by the consciousness of his presence--his bright, strong presence, typified by his frank eyes, his clear, healthy skin, his close-cropped fair hair.

With a little exclamation of greeting, she hurried towards him.

In quick, warm response, he took both her hands.

"Well!" he said--"well! It's good to see you! How splendid you look!

And Nance, too!" He turned to the window with quiet cordiality.

"Can Nance find time to shake hands with a mere Englishman?"

Nance laid down the bunch of heliotrope she was still holding.

And at the same moment, Clodagh looked round impulsively.

"Nance and I were quarrelling," she said.

"Quarrelling! What on earth about?" Gore looked amusedly from one to the other.

"Oh, about----"

But Nance interrupted by stepping quickly forward.

"About nothing!" she said hastily. "How are you, Walter? I'm so glad to see you! But I must wash my hands before I even try to talk. Heliotrope is much stickier than you'd think." She looked down at her fingers, then laughed and moved across the room. But as Gore hurried forward to open the door for her, she glanced up into his face with an almost serious look.

"I'm so glad you have come back!" she whispered. "Make up to her for the time you've been away!"

Gore's feelings were very pleasant, very protective, as he closed the door and turned back into the room. He was too essentially an Englishman to be very demonstrative; but the leaven of sentiment that so often lies in the English character had always held a place in his nature. In confessing his love to Clodagh--in acknowledging that love to himself--he had indisputably swept aside some difficulties--difficulties born of inherent prejudice, of a certain stiff-necked distrust of what he had begun by criticising. But they had been thrust aside. He had acknowledged himself stirred to the depths of nature by something brilliant and vivid in her personality. He had made his choice.

His whole expression, his whole bearing, was attractive as he came towards her; he seemed to carry about him a breath of the country--the clean, open s.p.a.ces of the country. And her heart gave a throb of pride and satisfaction, of complete, ungrudging admiration, as he took her hands again and drew her to him.

"Well!" he said fondly--"well! Have you really missed me as much as your letters said?"

For a moment she remained silent, drinking in the joy of his presence.

"Won't you tell me?"

"In a moment--in one moment. Oh, Walter, the heavenly rest of knowing that you care!"

Then suddenly shaking off her seriousness, she drew away from him, looking up into his face with eyes that shone strangely.

"I'm not crying, Walter!" she exclaimed. "I'm only--frantically happy!"

She gave a little gasp, followed by a little laugh.

And Gore, carried away by her charm, by the unconscious flattery of her words, caught her suddenly in his arms, and, bending his face to hers, kissed her pa.s.sionately.

At last they drew apart, laughing; and Clodagh moved across the room to the open window, and sat down upon the low sill.

A second or two later, he followed her.

"Well! And so the fiance is perfection?" he said smilingly. "Little Nance looks very happy." He seated himself on the edge of the table, strewn with the _debris_ of the heliotrope.

Clodagh glanced up, pleased and interested.

"Yes, Pierce is charming," she said eagerly. "And so are his mother and sister. I told you, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"We dined with them at the Carlton last night. And they're coming here to tea this afternoon. I know you'll love them. Mrs. Estcoit has the most fascinating----"

But Gore made a rueful face.

"To-day!" he said. "Oh, you might have given me the first day!"

Clodagh laughed happily.

"How greedy of you! This is to be a family party."

Gore smiled.

"And Nance was decorating the room for the sacrifice?" He idly gathered the stalks and leaves of the heliotrope into a little heap.

The action was purely mechanical, purely inadvertent. But as he drew the broken stems together, a small object, hitherto hidden under the scattered leaves, was suddenly brought to light.

It was very trivial, very uninteresting--merely a man's visiting-card.

Without consideration he picked it up and looked at it. Then, with an extremely quiet gesture, he laid it down again.

It bore the name of the Earl of Deerehurst; and across it Clodagh's name and address had been scribbled in pencil.