Part 34 (1/2)

He spoke to her at once, very softly and gently, as if she had been a child.

”I'm real pleased you've had a sleep. You needed it. Don't look so startled. It's all right--a little late, but that's nothing. Dimsdale and I agreed that it would be a pity to disturb you. So we let you sleep on. And he brought in a tray of refreshments to fortify you when you awoke. He's a thoughtful old chap, Lady Carfax. You're lucky to have such a servant.”

But Anne scarcely heard him. She was staring at the clock in amazement.

It was half-past three! Just twelve hours since--She repressed a violent shudder.

”Don't be shocked any!” besought Lucas in his easy drawl. ”I'm often awake at this hour. I guessed you wouldn't sleep if we woke you to go to your room, and I didn't quite like the thought of being down here out of reach. You are not vexed with me, I hope?”

”No,” she said. ”I am not vexed.”

But she looked at him very strangely, as if that were not all she desired to say.

”Dimsdale has been in and out,” he said, ”keeping the fire going. He and one of the others are watching upstairs. But all is quiet there. Sir Giles has been asleep ever since the doctor left.”

Anne got up slowly. ”You look very uncomfortable,” she said.

He smiled up at her. ”My dear Lady Carfax, I am all right. The advantage of this position is that one can rise at a moment's notice.”

As if to demonstrate the truth of this he rose, but not without considerable effort.

”Ah, please don't!” she said, putting out a quick, restraining hand. ”It hurts me to see you suffer on my account. It was too kind of you--much too kind--to stay with me like this. You will never know how much you have helped me, and I thank you for it with all my heart. Now please sit down again, and let me wait upon you for a change. Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

He sat down again, looking quizzical. ”I have been waiting for my hostess to join me,” he said.

”Do you ever think of yourself at all?” she asked, turning aside to the tray that Dimsdale's consideration had provided.

”A great deal more often than you imagine,” smiled Lucas. ”Must you really do the waiting? It's very bad for me, you know.”

He joked with her gently through the light repast that followed. And though she scarcely responded, she let him see her grat.i.tude.

Finally, he laid aside all pretence of humour and spoke to her very quietly and gravely of her husband. The doctor thought it advisable to remove him from the Manor with as little delay as possible. He would consult her about it in the morning. His brain was without doubt very seriously affected, and it might take some months to recover. It was essential that he should be taken away from familiar surroundings and people whom he knew.

Anne listened with a whitening face. She asked no questions. Lucas supplied every detail with the precision that characterised most of his utterances. Finally he spoke of her position, advised her strongly to employ an agent for the estate, and promised his help in this or any other matter in which she might care to avail herself of it.

He seemed to take it for granted that she would remain at the head of affairs, and it gradually dawned upon Anne that she could not well do otherwise. Her presence for a time at least seemed indispensable. The responsibility had become hers and she could not at that stage shake it off. Her dream of freedom was over. Of what the future might hold for her she could not even begin to think. But the present was very clearly defined. It remained only for her to ”do the work that was nearest” as bravely as she might.

When Lucas ended she leaned forward and gave him her hand. ”I wonder what I should have done without you,” she said. ”I believe I should have gone mad too.”

”No, no, Lady Carfax!”

She smiled faintly; the tears were standing in her eyes. ”Yes, I know.

You don't like to be thanked. But you have been like a mother to me in my trouble, and--I shall always remember it.”

The blue eyes began to twinkle humorously. The hand that held hers closed with a very friendly pressure.

”Well,” drawled the kindly American voice, ”I'll be shot if that isn't the kindest thing that anyone ever said to me. And I believe you meant it too.”