The Independence of Claire Part 40

"You know I do! You know I do! Oh!" cried Claire, yielding to the strength of the strong arms, and resting her head on the broad shoulder with an unspeakable rush of joy and rest. "Oh, but you don't know how much! I can't tell you--I can't put it into words, but it's my whole heart, my whole life! Oh, every _thought_ has been with you for such a long, long time."

"My darling! My own sweet, brave little girl! And my thoughts with you! Thank G.o.d, we shall be together now. We have had enough of separation and chance meetings. There must be an end of that. You'll have to marry me at once!"

This was rus.h.i.+ng ahead with a vengeance! Claire shook her head, with a little laugh sweet as a chime of joy bells.

"You ridiculous--boy! I can't. It's impossible. You forget my work.

There's all next term. I couldn't possibly leave without giving notice."

"Couldn't you! We'll see to that. Do you seriously believe that I'm going to let you go back to that drudgery, and kick my heels waiting for four months? You don't understand the kind of man you are marrying, my la.s.s!"

Claire loved the sound of that "my la.s.s," loved the close grip of the arms, the feel of the rough cheek against her own. For a few minutes neither spoke, too utterly, completely absorbed in each other's presence. To Claire, as to Erskine, a four months' delay seemed an aeon of time through which to wade before the consummation of a perfect happiness, but it seemed impossible that it could be avoided.

"Miss Farnborough would never let me off. She would be indignant with me for asking."

"I'll tackle Miss Farnborough. Leave Miss Farnborough to me!" returned Erskine with so confident an air that Claire shook with amus.e.m.e.nt, seeing before her a picture of her lover seated _tete-a-tete_ with the formidable "Head," breaking to her the news that one of her staff intended to play truant.

"It's very easy to say that. You don't know her. She thinks everything in the world comes second to education."

"What if she does? I'll agree with her. You're the most precious darling in all the world, but you can't honestly believe that there aren't a thousand other mistresses who could teach those flappers as well, or better! Whereas for _me_--well! it's Claire, or no one. I'll throw myself on the good lady's tender mercies, and ask for your release as a favour to myself, and I bet you anything you like that I succeed.

Miss Farnborough was a woman before she was a school-mistress. She'll set you free all right!"

"Perhaps--perhaps possibly at the half term."

"Rubbish--the half term! We'll be married and settled down before we get near then... Where will you go for our marriage, Claire? To Mrs Willoughby? I'm sure she'd be willing."

"No!--no!" Claire marvelled at the obtuseness of men; at the utter unconsciousness of this particular man of the reason why Mrs Willoughby's house should be the last one on earth from which his marriage should take place. And then in the midst of these questionings, to her own surprise a sudden p.r.i.c.king of tears came to her eyes, and she cried sharply, "I want mother! I must have mother. She must come home. She'll come at once, when she hears--"

"We'll cable to-day. That will be best of all. I'm longing to meet your mother, and you ought to have her with you, little la.s.s! Poor, little, lonely la.s.s! Please G.o.d, you shall never be lonely any more."

"Ah, Erskine darling, but the _other women_!" Claire cried, and there was the sharpness of pain in her voice.

From within the shelter of her lover's arms her heart went out in a wave of tenderness towards her sisters who stood apart from the royal feast; towards Cecil with her blighted love, Sophie with her blighted health, with the thousand others for whom they stood as types; the countless hordes of women workers for whom life was a monotonous round of grey- hued days, shadowed by the prospect of age and want. From the shelter of her lover's arms, Claire Gifford vowed herself to the service of her working sisters. From the bottom of her heart she thanked G.o.d for the year of work which had taught her to _understand_.

THE END.