Part 35 (2/2)

”He is at our house, the little pavilion behind the Casino garden.”

”Will you take me to him?” Stamfordham said.

Rachel looked at him, unable to speak, her face illuminated with hope--then she covered her face in her hands, saying through the tears she could no longer restrain, ”Oh, thank you, thank you!”

”Come,” said Stamfordham gently, but with decision. ”You must dry your tears,” he added with a smile, ”or people will think I have been ill-treating you.” And to the speechless amazement of Lady Adela, who was standing outside the curtain waiting until, as she expressed it to herself, she too should have her ”innings,” Stamfordham pa.s.sed out before her eyes with Rachel, saying to Lady Adela as he pa.s.sed, ”Will you forgive me? I am going to take Mrs. Rendel back.” Then looking round him at the jostling crowd he said to Rachel, offering her his arm, ”Will you think me very old-fas.h.i.+oned if I ask you to take my arm to get through the crowd?” And, leaning on his arm, hardly daring to believe what had happened or might be going to happen, Rachel pa.s.sed back along the room through which she had just come with Pateley, the crowd this time opening before them with some indescribable tacit understanding that something had happened concerned with the incident which, as Rendel had foreseen, nearly everybody at the bazaar had heard of. They did not speak again until they reached the pavilion.

Latchkeys were unknown at Schleppenheim, and the inhabitants of the little summer abodes walked in by the simple process of turning the handle of the front door. Rachel and Stamfordham went straight in out of the sunlight into the cool little room into which, in long low rays, the setting sun was sending its beams. Rendel had been trying to read: the book that lay beside him on the floor showed that the attempt had been in vain. He looked up, still with that strange, hunted expression that had come into his face since the morning--the expression of the man to whom every door opening, every figure that comes in may mean some fresh cause of apprehension. Rachel came into the room without speaking, something that he could not read in the least in her face, then his heart stood still within him as he saw Stamfordham behind her. What, again? What new ordeal awaited him? He made no sign of recognition, but stood up and looked Stamfordham straight in the face. Stamfordham came forward and spoke.

”I have come,” he said, ”to apologise to you for what took place to-day, to beg you to forgive me.” Rendel was so utterly astounded that he simply looked from one to the other of the people standing before him without uttering a sound.

”I have just learnt,” Stamfordham went on, ”the name of the person who did the thing of which I wrongfully accused you.” Rendel made a hurried movement forward as if to stop him.

”Wait, wait one moment!” he cried, ”don't say it before my wife--she doesn't know.” In that moment Rachel realised what he had done for her.

”Do you know?” asked Stamfordham.

”Yes,” Rendel answered.

With the old friendliness, and something deeper, in his face and voice, Stamfordham said--

”Mrs. Rendel knows also. It was she told me.”

”Rachel!” cried Rendel, turning to her. ”Do you know?”

”Yes,” said Rachel, trying to command her voice. ”I know--now--that it was--my father,” and the eyes of the two met.

Stamfordham advanced to Rendel.

”Will you forgive me,” he said again, ”and shake hands?” Rendel held out his hand and pressed Stamfordham's in a close and tremulous grasp, which the other returned. ”I must see you,” he said. ”Will you come to my rooms some time? I shall be here for a week longer.” He held out his hand to Rachel. ”Thank you,” he said, ”for what you have done.” And he went out.

Rendel turned towards Rachel, his arms outstretched, his face transformed by the knowledge of the great love she had shown him. His heart was too full for speech: in the closer union of silence that new precious compact was made. The veil that had hung between them so long was lifted for ever.

THE END.

<script>