Part 82 (1/2)

Ashe made a fierce effort to still the thumping in his breast and decide what he should do. For the guests there was only one door of entrance or exit, and to reach it he must pa.s.s close beside the new-comer.

He laid down his newspaper. She heard the rustling, and involuntarily looked round.

There was a slight sound--an exclamation. She rose. He heard and saw her coming, and sat tranced and motionless, his eyes bent upon her. She came tottering, clinging to the chairs, her hand on her side, till she reached the corner where he was.

”William!” she said, with a little, glad sob, under her breath--”William!”

He himself could not speak. He stood there gazing at her, his lips moving without sound. It seemed to him that she turned her head a moment, as though to look for some one beside him--with an exquisite tremor of the mouth.

”Isn't it strange?” she said, in the same guarded voice. ”I had a dream once--a valley--and mountains--and an inn. You sat here--just like this--and--”

She put up her hands to her eyes a moment, s.h.i.+vered, and withdrew them.

From her expression she seemed to be waiting for him to speak. He moved and stood beside her.

”Where can we talk?” he said, with difficulty. She shook her head vaguely, looking round her with that slight frown, complaining and yet sweet, which was like a touch of fire on memory.

The waitress came back into the room.

”It _is_ odd to have met you here!” said Kitty, in a laughing voice.

”Let us go into the _salon de lecture_. The maids want to clear away.

Please bring your newspaper.”

Fraulein Anna looked at them with a momentary curiosity, and went on with her work. They pa.s.sed into the pa.s.sage-way outside, which was full of smokers overflowing from the crowded room beyond, where the humbler frequenters of the inn ate and drank.

Kitty glanced round her in bewilderment. ”The _salon de lecture_ will be full, too. Where shall we go?” she said, looking up.

Ashe's hand clinched as it hung beside him. The old gesture--and the drawn, emaciated face--they pierced the heart.

”I told my servant to arrange me a sitting-room up-stairs,” he said, hurriedly, in her ear. ”Will you go up first?--number ten.”

She nodded, and began slowly to mount the stairs, coughing as she went.

The man whom Ashe had taken for a Genevese professor looked after her, glanced at his neighbor, and shrugged his shoulders. ”Phthisique,” he said, with a note of pity. The other nodded. ”Et d'un type tres avance!”

They moved towards the door and stood looking into the night, which was dark with intermittent rain. Ashe studied a map of the commune which hung on the wall beside him, till at a moment when the pa.s.sage had become comparatively clear he turned and went up-stairs.

The door of his improvised _salon_ was ajar. Beyond it his valet was coming out of his bedroom with wet clothes over his arm. Ashe hesitated.

But the man had been with him through the greater part of his married life, and was a good heart. He beckoned him back into the room he was leaving, and the two stepped inside.

”Dell, my good fellow, I want your help. I have just met my wife here--Lady Kitty. You understand. Neither of us, of course, had any idea. Lady Kitty is very ill. We wish to have a conversation--uninterrupted. I trust you to keep guard.”

The young man, son of one of the Haggart gardeners, started and flushed, then gave his master a look of sympathy.

”I'll do my best, sir.”

Ashe nodded and went back to the next room. He closed the door behind him. Kitty, who was sitting by the fire, half rose. Their eyes met. Then with a stifled cry he flung himself down, kneeling beside her, and she sank into his arms. His tears fell on her face, anguish and pity overwhelmed him.

”You may!” she said, brokenly, putting up her hand to his cheek, and kissing him--”you may! I'm not mad or wicked now--and I'm dying!”

Agonized murmurs of love, pardon, self-abas.e.m.e.nt pa.s.sed between them. It was as though a great stream bore them on its breast; an awful and majestic power enwrapped them, and made each word, each kiss, wonderful, sacramental. He drew himself away at last, holding her hair back from her brow and temples, studying her features, his own face convulsed.