The Lamp of Fate Part 39

"Go!" he muttered sullenly. "Go to _h.e.l.l_!"

CHAPTER XV

THE DAY AFTER

"Magda, how could you?" Gillian's voice was full of blank dismay. "You ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself!"

Magda perched on the foot of Gillian's bed, her hands clasped round her knees, nodded.

"Yes, I suppose I ought. I don't know what made me do it--except that he'd suggested I should leave Stockleigh! I'm not used to being--shunted!"

"Heaven knows you're not!" agreed Gillian ruefully. "It would be a wholesome tonic for you if you were. I told you only yesterday that it would be better if we left here. And on top of that you must needs go and dance in the moonlight, of all things, while Dan Storran looks on!

What ordinary man is going to keep his head in such circ.u.mstances, do you suppose? Especially when he was more than half in love with you to start with. . . . Oh, I should like to shake you!"

"Well, I'll leave now--as soon as ever you like," replied Magda, slipping down from the bed. She was unwontedly meek, from which Gillian judged that for once she felt herself unable to cope with the situation she had created. "Will you arrange it?"

Gillian shrugged her shoulders.

"I suppose so," she returned resignedly. "As usual, you break the crockery and someone else has to sweep up the pieces."

Magda bent down and kissed her.

"You're such a dear, Gillyflower," she said with that impulsive, lovable charm of manner which it was so difficult to resist. "Still"--her voice hardening a little--"perhaps there are a few odd bits that I'll have to sweep up myself."

And she departed to her own room to complete her morning toilette, leaving Gillian wondering rather anxiously what she could have meant.

When, half an hour later, the two girls descended for breakfast, Dan Storran was not visible. He had gone off early to work, June explained, and Magda experienced a sensation of distinct relief. She had dreaded meeting Dan this morning. The mad, bizarre scene of the night before, with sudden unleas.h.i.+ng of savage and ungoverned pa.s.sions, had shaken even her insouciant poise, though she was very far from seeing it in its true proportions.

June received Gillian's intimation that they proposed leaving Stockleigh Farm that day without comment. She was very quiet and self-contained, and busied herself in making the necessary arrangements for their departure, sending a boy into Ashencombe to order the wagonette from the Crown and Bells to take them to the station whilst she herself laboriously made out the account that was owing. When she presented the latter, with a perfectly composed and business-like air, and proceeded conscientiously to stamp and receipt it, no one could have guessed how bitter a thing it was to her to accept Miss Vallincourt's money. Within herself she recognised that every penny of it had been earned at the cost of her own happiness.

But as she stood at the gate, watching the ancient vehicle from the Crown and Bells bearing the London visitors towards the station, a little quiver of hope stirred in her heart. Early that morning Dan himself had said to her before starting out to his work: "Get those people away! They must be out of the house before I come into it again.

Pay them a week's money instead of notice if necessary. We can afford it." So it was evident that he, too, had realised the danger of their happiness--hers and his--if Miss Vallincourt remained at Stockleigh any longer.

He did not come in till late in the evening, when June was sitting in the lamplight, adding delicate st.i.tchery to some tiny garments upon which she was at work. She hid them hastily at the sound of his footsteps, subst.i.tuting one of his own socks that stood in need of repair. Not yet could she share with him that wonderful secret joy which was hers. There must be a clearer understanding between them first. They must get back to where they were before Miss Vallincourt came between them, so that nothing might mar the sweetness of the telling.

Presently Dan came into the room and sat down heavily. June looked across at him.

"She has gone, Dan," she said quietly. She did not use the word "they."

Those others did not count as far as she was concerned. Her use of the p.r.o.noun sounded significantly in Storran's ears.

"You know, then?" he said dully. Adding, after a moment's pause. "Did she tell you?"

"Tell me?" repeated June doubtfully. "Tell me what?"

"That she's robbed you of all that belongs to you."

Her face blanched. "What do you mean, Dan?" she asked falteringly. "I don't think I understand."

Her wide, questioning blue eyes, with that softness and depth of expression dawning in them which motherhood gives to women's eyes, searched his face. The innocent appeal of them cut him to the heart.

He had loved his wife; and now he had to tell her that he loved her no longer.

"You've got to understand," he said roughly. His hatred of being compelled to hurt her made him almost brutal. "I--everything is changed between us, June." He stopped, not knowing how to go on.

"Changed? How, Dan?" Her voice sharpened with apprehension. "Do you mean--that you don't--care any longer?"

"Yes. It's that. It's Magda--Oh, good G.o.d! Can't you understand?"

"You love Miss Vallincourt?" June spoke in carefully measured accents.

She felt that if she did not speak very quietly indeed she should scream. She wanted to laugh, too. It sounded so absurd to be asking her husband if he loved Miss Vallincourt!

Dan's eyes met her own.

"Yes," he said. "I love her." He paused a moment, then added: "I asked her to go away with me."

June stared at him dumbly. The whole thing seemed unreal. She could not feel as though what Dan was saying had any relation to herself, any bearing on their life together. At last:

"Why didn't you go, then?" she heard herself say--at least, she supposed she must be saying it, although the voice didn't sound a bit like her own.

Dan turned on her with sudden savagery. His nerves were raw.

"You speak as though you were disappointed," he said roughly.

"No. But if you care for Miss Vallincourt and she cares for you, I'm wondering what stopped you."

"She doesn't care for me"--shortly.

June felt a thrill of pure joy. If Magda didn't care, then she could win him back--win back her husband! Within her she was instinctively aware that if Magda _had_ cared, no power of hers could have won back Dan's allegiance. A faint doubt a.s.sailed her.

"She--she _seemed_ as if she cared?" she ventured.

Dan nodded indifferently.

"Yes. I was a summer holiday's amus.e.m.e.nt for her."

"And--was that all?"

As June spoke, her direct gaze sought her husband's face. He met it fair and square, unflinchingly.

"That's all," he replied quietly.

She crossed the room swiftly to his side.

"Then, if that's all, Dan, we--we won't speak of it again--ever," she said steadily. "It--it was just a mistake. It need never come between us. You'll get over it, and I"--her small head reared itself bravely--"I'll forget it."

The pathetic courage of her! Storran turned away with a groan.