Winding Paths Part 71

But his eyes lost none of their gravity. It was evident, in the midst of his dawning success, some cloud had descended upon his horizon, and shrouded much of the sunlight.

Lorraine's sensitive temperament read it quickly, and she decided, for his sake, to hasten her departure. She thought her continued presence in London under the circ.u.mstances was a continual anxiety to him, and that he would only breathe freely when she was safe in Brittany.

She did not know - how should she - that after that week's madness on the southern coast there had come rather a terrible revelation to the man whom fortune seemed to be smothering with favours.

It had not come all at once. It had been there, or at any rate the gist of it, for some time. But when it was present in full force, it had the power to make all the adulation, triumph, and hopefulness of his career seem but a small thing and of little account, because of one great desire beyound his reach.

It came definitely into being during those many evenings Hal spent at the Cromwell Road flat, when Dudley was away in Holloway with his friend.

It reached a climax of realisation when she openly wore the watch and chain Sir Edwin had sent to her. The night he asked her not to wear it, and she tautingly refused, saw him, with all his success and favours, one of the most perplexed and unhappy men in London.

It was just the waywardness of the little G.o.d Love. The fair debutantes with money and influence had left him untouched. No older woman but Lorraine had disturbed his peace, or appealed to his deepest affections.

It was left to Hal, the mocker, the outspoken, the impatient of giant inches and splendid head, to awaken his heart to all its richness of strong, enduring love.

And what did it mean to her?

The suns.h.i.+ne and the joy might go out of all he was winning and achieving, if it might not be won and achieved for her - but what did she care - what was she ever likely to care?

Had she not always dealt him laughter and careless scorn where other women bowed down? Had she not, over and over, weighed him in the balance, in that quiet, direct way of hers, and seen the weak strain that had always been there? First the lack of purpose, the idle indifference, which, in a different guise, had led up to a memory which now tortured his mind - the memory of a mad week; of love that was not love, because his whole soul was not given with it - nay, worse, was actually given in unconsciousness elsewhere. If she ever knew of that, what must her indignation and scorn be then?... Would it not indeed separate them for ever?

And even if it did, could it make hi unlove her?... Why should it, since he had waited no encoouragement before he gave her all? If he knew why he loved her, it might.

But he did not even know that. It was a thing outside questioning; something he seemed to have had no free will about. It was just there - a strong, undeniable fact.

Why reason? It did not _need_ reasoning. He loved her. He would always love her - simply because she was Hal - and as Hal, to him, was the one woman who filled his heart.

No; Lorraine dit not know just what fire of repentance and self-condemnation and hopeless aching her recklessness had lit for him; but it was enough that his gravity grew and deepened, and she believed she could lighten it.

She made immediate plans; cancelled her present engagement at considerable monetary loss to herself, and almost before any of them realised it, had vanished to a little out-of-the-way spot in Brittany, alone with Jean.

Hal was quite unhappy that she could not go to her for her own summer holiday, but d.i.c.k Bruce's people were taking her to Norway with them, and she would not have a day to spare.

She made Alymer promise to run across and see how she was, if possible, and then departed without any suspicions or forebodings, with Dudley and d.i.c.k to join the rest of the party at Hull, whence they were to start for the Fiords.

When she returned early in September, Lorraine was still away, and her letters gave no hint of returning. Still a little anxious, she sought an interview with Alymer, asking him to meet her for tea the following day.

The instant they met, Hal saw the change in him, and exclaimed in surprise:

"Haven't you had a holiday? You don't look very grand."

Unable to meet her eyes, he turned away towards a small table.

"Oh yes, I've had a holiday. I've been in France studying the language. I can talk like a French froggy now."

"Then of course, you saw Lorraine?"

"Yes."

"I wanted to see you about Lorry," with direct, straight gaze.

He steadied his features with an effort.

"I guessed so."

"Well, what is the matter with her?"

"Nothing very much. She got thoroughly low I think, and is not pulling up very quickly."

"I don't understand it," with puzzled, doubtful eyes. "Lorry is not like that. She is quite strong really. She has only once before gone under like this, and then it was a mental strain. I wonder if it is anything the same again? Did you see much of her?"

"I saw her four or five times."

"And she didn't tell you anything?"

"Anything about what?"

"Well - about her husband, for instance. He isn't worrying her again, is he?"

"She did not speak of him at all."

"Then what is it?... I wish she had not gone so far away. I wish I could get to her. Did she say when she might be coming back?"

"Not at present. She likes being there. She does not want to come back."

"That's what I can't understand. Something odd seems to have changed her. Have you thought so."

"I don't think it odd in Lorraine to fancy a long spell of country life. She was always loved the country."

"Not alone," with decision, "except for a good reason. I feel there is a reason now, and I do not know it."

Suddenly she gave him another direct look.

"You are changed too. You are years older. Is it your advancing success, or what? ... I don't say it isn't becoming," with a dash of her old banter - "but it seems sudden."

He raised his eyes slowly and looked into her face with an expression that in some way hurt her. It was the look of a devoted dog, craving forgiveness.

She pushed her cup away impatiently, half laughing and half serious.

"Don't look at me like that, Baby," striving blindly to rally him - "you make me feel as if I had smacked you."

He laughed to rea.s.sure her, and changed the subject to Norway, trying to keep her mind from further questioning concerning himself and Lorraine.

After tea she left him to go down to Sh.o.r.editch with d.i.c.k, first meeting him and the forlorn "G" at the Ches.h.i.+re Cheese for their usual high tea.

It had become quite an inst.i.tution now that "G" should join them, and, as Hal had predicted, she and d.i.c.k were firm friends. It was the brightest spot of the music-teacher's life since Basil Hayward died, and neither of them would have disappointed her for the world if they could help it.

To-night Quin was there also, so Hal was able to get a few words privately with d.i.c.k.