Part 35 (1/2)

”That I should care for you.”

”It's the first time you've told me,” she reminded him, with a queer little smile. ”Oh, forgive me, please! I didn't mean to say that.

I don't want to have you tell me so. It's all too ridiculous and impossible.”

”Is it? And why?”

”I have only known you for three days.”

”We can make up for that.”

”But I don't--care about you. I have never thought of any one in that way. It is absurd,” she went on.

”You'll have to, sometime or other,” he declared. ”I'll take you travelling with me, show you the world, new worlds, unnamed rivers, untrodden mountains. Or do you want to go and see where the little brown people live among the mimosa and the cherry blossoms? I'll take you so far away that this place and this life will seem like a dream.”

Her breath caught a little.

”Don't, please,” she begged. ”You know very well--or rather you don't know, perhaps, but I must tell you--that I couldn't. I am here, tied and bound, and I can't escape.”

”Ah! dear, don't believe it,” he went on earnestly. ”There isn't any bond so strong that I won't break it for you, no knot I won't untie, if you give me the right.”

They were climbing slowly on to the tee. He stepped forward and pulled her up. Her hand was cold. Her eyes were raised to his, very softly yet almost pleadingly.

”Please don't say anything more,” she begged. ”I can't--quite bear it just now. You know, you must remember--there is my mother. Do you think that I could leave her to struggle alone?”

His caddy, who had teed the ball, and who had regarded the proceedings with a moderately tolerant air, felt called upon at last to interfere.

”We'd best get on,” he remarked, pointing to two figures in the distance, ”or they'll say we've cut in.”

Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more moderate scale she followed his example. They descended the steps together.

”Love-making isn't going to spoil our golf,” he whispered, smiling, as he touched her fingers once more.

She looked at him almost shyly.

”Is this love-making?” she asked.

They walked together from the eighteenth green towards the club-house.

A curious silence seemed suddenly to have enveloped them. Hamel was conscious of a strange exhilaration, a queer upheaval of ideas, an excitement which nothing in his previous life had yet been able to yield him. The wonder of it amazed him, kept him silent. It was not until they reached the steps, indeed, that he spoke.

”On our way home--” he began.

She seemed suddenly to have stiffened. He looked at her, surprised. She was standing quite still, her hand gripping the post, her eyes fixed upon the waiting motor-car. The delicate softness had gone from her face. Once more that look of partly veiled suffering was there, suffering mingled with fear.

”Look!” she whispered, under her breath. ”Look! It is Mr. Fentolin! He has come for us himself; he is there in the car.”

Mr. Fentolin, a strange little figure lying back among the cus.h.i.+ons of the great Daimler, raised his hat and waved it to them.

”Come along, children,” he cried. ”You see, I am here to fetch you myself. The suns.h.i.+ne has tempted me. What a heavenly morning! Come and sit by my side, Esther, and fight your battle all over again. That is one of the joys of golf, isn't it?” he asked, turning to Hamel. ”You need not be afraid of boring me. To-day is one of my bright days. I suppose that it is the suns.h.i.+ne and the warm wind. On the way here we pa.s.sed some fields. I could swear that I smelt violets. Where are you going, Esther?”