Part 31 (1/2)
John had not spoken much, but stood by the fire.
How changed things were! Once he had to be persuaded and enticed to stay with her at such moments, and it was he who now seemed to desire to do so, and it was she who discouraged his wishes!
In Amaryllis' mind an agitation grew. What could she say to him presently--if he suggested coming to sleep in her room?
The knowledge in her breast rose as an insurmountable barrier between them.
During dinner she kept the conversation entirely upon his life at the Front--which indeed really interested her. She was not cold or stiff in her manner, but she was unconsciously aloof.
Then they went back into the library, each feeling exceedingly depressed.
When coffee had come and they were quite alone Amaryllis felt she could not stand the strain, and went to the piano. She played for quite a long time all the things she remembered that John liked best. She wanted the music to calm her, and she wanted to gain time. John sat in one of the monster chairs and gazed into the fire. He seemed to see pictures in the glowing coals.
The strange relentless fate which had pursued him always as far as happiness was concerned!
He remembered what his mother had said to him when she lay a-dying with a broken heart.
”John, we cannot see what G.o.d means in it all. There must be some explanation because He cannot be unjust. It is because we have missed the point of some lesson, probably, and so are given it again to learn. Do not ever be rebellious, my son, and perhaps some day light will come.”
He had read an article in some paper lately ridiculing the theory that we have had former lives, but, after all, perhaps there was some foundation for the belief. Perhaps he was paying in this one for sins in a previous birth. That would account for the seeming inexorableness of the misfortunes which fell upon him now, since common sense told him that in this life such cruel blows were undeserved.
Amaryllis glanced at his face from the piano as she played. It was infinitely sad.
A great pity grew in her heart. What ought she to do not to be unkind?
Presently she finished a soft chord and got up and came to his side.
They were both suffering cruelly--but John was going back to fight. She must have some explanation with him which could make him return to France at peace in a measure. It was cowardly to s.h.i.+rk telling him the truth, and she could not let him go again into danger with this black shadow between them.
He looked up at her and rose from his chair.
”You play so beautifully,” he said hastily. ”You take one out of oneself. Now it is late and the day has been long. Let us go to bed, dearest child.”
Amaryllis stiffened suddenly--the moment that she dreaded had come.
”I would rather that you slept in your dressing-room. I have ordered that to be prepared--”
He looked at her startled--and then he took her hand.
”Amaryllis--tell me everything. Why are you so changed?”
”I'm trying not to be, John.”
”You are trying--that proves that you are, if you must try. Please tell me what this means.”
She endeavoured to remain calm and not become unhinged.
”It was you yourself who altered me. I came to you all loving and human and you froze me. There is nothing to be done.”
”Yes, there is. You know that I love you.”