Part 28 (1/2)
”What about your victims?” he asked. ”d.i.c.k is kicking the toes of his boots thin because he saw you yesterday with Sir Edwin Crathie.”
Hal coloured up, much to her own disgust, and greatly to Hermon's enjoyment, who immediately followed up his advantage with:
”I suppose we shall all have to cry small now, because of the right honourable gentleman.”
”It will be a puzzler for you to cry small,” was her rather feeble retort, as she pa.s.sed out.
Hermon came back and reseated himself in the big arm chair.
”May I stay?” he asked, and Lorraine answered:
”Yes, do,” in the frank spirit she had told herself must be her att.i.tude towards him.
So he sat on with an air of content, seeming to fill some place in the pretty room by right of an old comrades.h.i.+p, or some blood-tie, or a mutual understanding - an intangible, indefinable att.i.tude that had sprung into being between them of itself.
Lorraine did not talk much, because she was tired, but she let the goodly sight of him, and the quiet rest of him, lull and soothe her senses for the pa.s.sing moment without any disturbing questioning.
Hermon likewise did not question. He liked being there, and she seemed willing for him to stay, and it seemed enough.
Once or twice lately he was conscious that he had been rather foolish with different admiring friends of the fair s.e.x; and though he was no prig, and knew most men took kisses and caressess when offered, and would have thought it a needless throwing away of good things to refuse, he yet felt a little irritated with himself and the givers without quite knowing why.
And there was another trying incident over a girl he had met at various country-houses the previous summer, and greatly enjoyed a flirtation with. Unfortunately, she appeared not to have understood it in the light of a flirtation; and now she was writing him miserable, reproachful love-letters which had at any rate succeeded in making him wish he had been more circ.u.mspect. It soothed his ruffled feelings to be with Lorraine; and it flattered his vanity to feel that she liked him there.
They had been sitting quietly some little time when the front-door bell announced another caller, and Jean came to inquire if her mistress would see Lord Denton. Lorraine half unconsciously glanced at Hermon, and seeing an expression of disappointment on his face, said quietly.
”Ask him to come to-morrow, Jean. I am very tired to-night.”
Jean went away, and presently returned with a loverly bouquet of malmaisons, and three or four new books. ”His lords.h.i.+p will call about twelve,” she said: ”and he hopes, if you feel able to go out, you will let him take you in his motor.” Then she went out, leaving them alone again.
In the pause that followed, Lorraine lay silently watching him for some minutes, wondering what was pa.s.sing in his mind. Although it was only September still, the evenings were drawing in quickly, and there was little light in the room except the flickering glow of cheerful flames on the hearth. They caught the glint of his hair and shone on his face, throwing the delicate, aristocratic features with cameo-like dinstinctness on the black shadow beyond.
Lorraine looked again, with the eyes of a connoisseur, and she knew that in very truth no merely handsome face and form were here, but a nature and character corresponding to the outward beauty of line and lineament. She wondered once more as she lay there what it must be to have borne such a son; and a surging, aching, tearing pain filled her heart for the longing to have known from experience. She felt she could have been a saint among women for very joy, and an ideal companion, as well as a mother to such as he.
And instead? -
Well, there were murky corners in the background for her as well as her mother, but never from actual seeking. When necessity had not driven her, loneliness had, and the gnawing ache of a fine, fearless soul to grasp some satisfaction from the sorry scheme of things. And always the satisfaction had pa.s.sed so quickly... so quickly, driving the starved soul back on itself again, with a little extra weight added to its burden of bitter knowledge.
Was there then no counterpart for her - no twin soul - no strong, true comrade, to say ”You and I” when sorrow and disillusion came, and so rob pain of its deepest sting?
Then, as if he felt her scrutiny, he turned his face to her slowly, and looked into her eyes.
”You know you are looking rather bad,” he said a little awkwardly and shyly. ”I'm awfully sorry. I hope you are taking care of yourself.”
”I don't suppose I should worry much if left to myself,” she told him, with a touch of lightness; ”but a very stern physician, and a most resolute maid, insist upon giving me every possible attention.”
”It doesn't tire you... my being here?...”
”No; I like it.”
”I wonder why?”