Part 48 (1/2)

”But--but”--he echoed, resting his hands on the two arms of his chair, leaning forward and still laughing, though somewhat shyly. ”Don't you see the whole and sole programme is that you should do all you like, and have all you like, and--and be happy.”--Richard straightened himself up, still looking full at her, trying to focus both these quaintly--engaging, far-apart eyes. ”Constance, do you never play?” he asked her suddenly.

”I did practice every morning at home, but lately----”

”Oh! I don't mean that,” the young man said. ”I mean quite another sort of playing.”

”Games?” Lady Constance inquired. ”I am afraid I am rather stupid about games. I find it so difficult to remember numbers and words, and I never can make a ball go where I want it to, somehow.”

”I was not thinking of games either, exactly,” Richard said, smiling.

The girl stared at him in some perplexity. Then spoke again, with the same little effect of determined civility.

”I am very fond of dancing and of skating. The ice was very good on the lake at Whitney this winter. Rupert and Gerry were home from Eton, and Eddy had brought a young man down with him--Mr. Hubbard---who is in his business in Liverpool, and a friend of my brother Guy's was staying in the house too, from India. I think you have met him--Mr. Decies. We skated till past twelve one night--a Wednesday, I think. There was a moon, and a great many stars. The thermometer registered fifteen degrees of frost Mr. Decies told me. But I was not cold. It was very beautiful.”

Richard s.h.i.+fted his position. The organ had moved farther away.

Uncheered by further copper showers, it droned again slumberously, while the murmur sent forth by the thousand activities of the great city waxed loud, for the moment, and hoa.r.s.ely insistent.

”I do not bore you?” Lady Constance asked, in sudden anxiety.

”Oh no, no!” Richard answered. ”I am glad to have you tell me about yourself, if you will; and all that you care for.”

Thus encouraged, the girl took up her little parable again, her sweet, rather vacant, face growing almost animated as she spoke.

”We did something else I liked very much, but from what Alicia said afterwards I am afraid I ought not to have liked it. One day it snowed, and we all played hide-and-seek. There are a number of attics in the roof of the bachelor's wing at Whitney, and there are long up-and-down pa.s.sages leading round to the old nurseries. Mama did not mind, but Alicia was very displeased. She said it was a mere excuse for romping.

But that was not true. Of course we never thought of romping. We did make a great noise,” she added conscientiously, ”but that was Rupert and Gerry's fault. They would jump out after promising not to, and of course it was impossible to help screaming. Eddy's Liverpool friend tried to jump out too, but Maggie snubbed him. I think he deserved it.

You ought to play fair; don't you think so? After promising, you would never jump out, would you?”

And there Lady Constance stopped, with a little gasp.

”Oh! I beg your pardon. I am so sorry. I forgot,” she added breathlessly.

Richard's face had become thin and keen.

”Forget just as often as you can, please,” he answered huskily. ”I would infinitely rather have you--have everybody--forget altogether--if possible.”

”Oh! but I think that would be wrong of me,” she rejoined, with gentle dogmatism. ”It is selfish to forget anything that is very sad.”

”And is this so very sad?” Richard asked, almost harshly.

The girl stared at him with parted lips.

”Oh yes!” she said slowly. ”Of course,--don't you think so? It is dreadfully sad.”--And then, her att.i.tude still unchanged and her pretty plump hands still folded on her lap, she went on, in her touching determination to sustain the conversation with due readiness and civility. ”Brockhurst is a much larger house than Whitney, isn't it? I thought so the day we drove over to luncheon--when that beautiful, French cousin of yours was staying with you, you remember?”

”Yes, I remember,” Richard said.

And as he spoke Madame de Vallorbes, clothed in the seawaves, crowned and shod with gold, seemed to stand for a moment beside his innocent, little _fiancee_. How long it was since he had heard from her! Did she want money, he wondered? It would be intolerable if, because of his marriage, she never let him help her again. And all the while Lady Constance's unemotional, careful, little voice continued, as did the ceaseless murmur of London.

”I remember,” she was saying, ”because your cousin is quite the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Papa admired her very much too. We spoke of that as soon as Louisa had left us, when we were alone. But there seemed to me so many staircases at Brockhurst, and rooms opening one out of the other. I have been wondering--since--lately--whether I shall ever be able to find my way about the house.”

”I will show you your way,” d.i.c.kie said gently, banis.h.i.+ng the vision of Helen de Vallorbes.