Peg O' My Heart Part 50

"A month of misery for me, too," replied Brent, pa.s.sionately.

"I'm going away--out of it. To-morrow!" he added.

"Are you?" she asked languidly. "Where?"

"Petersburg--Moscow--Siberia--"

"Oh! The COLD places" She paused, then asked "Going alone?" He knelt on the sofa she was sitting on and whispered almost into her ear:

"Unless someone--goes with me!"

"Naturally," replied Ethel, quite unmoved.

"Will--you--go?" And he waited breathlessly.

She thought a moment, looked at him again, and said quietly: "Chris! I wish I'd been here when you called--instead of that--BRAT."

He turned away up again to the window-seat crying:

"Oh! This is unbearable."

Ethel said quite calmly: "Is it? Your wife all over again, eh?"

He came back to her: "No. I place you far above her, far above all petty suspicions and carping narrownesses. I value you as a woman of understanding."

"I am," she said frankly. "From what you've told me of your wife, SHE must be too."

"Don't treat me like this!" he pleaded distractedly. "What shall I do?"

asked Ethel with wide open eyes, "apologise? That's odd. I've been waiting for YOU to."

Brent turned away again with an impatient e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. As he moved up toward the windows Alaric came in behind him through the door. "h.e.l.lo, Brent," he called out heartily. "H'are ye?"

"Very well, thank you, Alaric," he said, controlling his surprise.

"Good. The dear wife well too?"

"Very."

"And the sweet child?"

"Yes."

"You must bring 'em along sometime. The mater would love to see them and so would Ethel. Ethel loves babies, don't you, dear?" Without waiting for Ethel to reply he hurried on: "And talkin' of BABIES, have you seen MARGARET anywhere?"

Ethel nodded in the direction of the garden: "Out there!"

"Splendid. The mater wants her. We've got to have a family meetin'

about her and at once. Mater'll be here in a minute. Don't run away, Brent," and Alaric hurried out through the windows into the garden.

Brent hurried over to Ethel:

"I'm at the hotel. I'll be there until morning. Send me a message, will you? I'll wait up all night for one." He paused: "Will you?"

"Perhaps," replied Ethel. "I'm sorry if anything I've said or done has hurt you. Believe me it is absolutely and entirely unnecessary."

"Don't say any more."

"Oh, if only--" he made an impulsive movement toward her. She checked him just as her mother appeared at the top of the stairs. At the same moment Bennett, the maid, came in through the door.

Mrs. Chichester greeted Brent courteously:

"How do you do, Mr. Brent? You will excuse me?" She turned to the maid:

"When did you see my niece last?"

"Not this hour, madam."

"Tell Jarvis to search the gardens--the stables--to look up and down the road."

"Yes, madam," and the maid hurried away in search of Jarvis.

Mrs. Chichester turned again to her guest:

"Pardon me--Mr. Brent."

"I'm just leaving, Mrs. Chichester."

"Oh, but you needn't--" expostulated that lady.

"I'm going abroad to-morrow. I just called to say good-bye."

"Indeed?" said Mrs. Chichester. "Well, I hope you and Mrs. Brent have a very pleasant trip. You must both call the moment you return."

"Thank you," replied Brent. "Good-bye, Mrs. Chichester--and--Ethel--"

He looked meaningly and significantly at Ethel as he stood in the doorway. The next moment he was gone.

Ethel was facing the problem of her future with no one to turn to and ask for guidance. Her mother least of all. Mrs. Chichester had never encouraged confidence between her children and herself, consequently, any crisis they reached they had to either decide for themselves or appeal to others. Ethel had to decide for herself between now and to-morrow morning. Next day it would be too late. What was she to do?

Always loath to make up her mind until forced to, she decided to wait until night.

It might be that the something she was always expecting to snap in her nature would do so that evening and save her the supreme effort of taking the final step on her own initiative, and consequently having to bear the full responsibility. Whilst these thoughts were pa.s.sing rapidly through her mind, Alaric hurried in through the windows from the garden.

"Not a sign of Margaret anywhere," he said furiously, throwing himself into a chair and fanning himself vigorously.

"This cannot go on," cried Mrs. Chichester.

"I should think not indeed. Running about all over, the place."

Mrs. Chichester held up an open telegram: