Part 73 (1/2)
”Almost at once, I think, but it probably will not last more than two or three days.”
When Hal said good-night to him, she remarked shyly:
”I heard from Ethel last night. She loves the Austrian Tyrol. She said she hoped you were better for your trip to Norway.”
His forehead contracted a little, and he did not look up from the book he had just opened.
”Is she better herself? Is she any happier?”
Hal looked thoughtfully into the fire.
”I think she is very lonely. I don't think she will be much happier until... until... there is some one to take Basil's place.”
”No one can do that.” He spoke a little shortly. ”Basil was a hero.
I do not know how she is ever to love a lesser man.”
”If she loved a man, she would easily see heroic qualities in him. She could not love a man who was without them; but that does not mean he need actually be a hero by any means.”
She longed to say more, but was diffident of doing greater harm than good. At last she ventured:
”I have sometimes thought she has a warm corner in her heart for you, Dudley.”
”For me! ... ” He gave a low, harsh laugh for very misery. ”No; she despises me. She has done for some time. I'm sorry. I'd change it if I could, but it's too late now.”
Hal moved towards the door.
”It is rather a slur on Ethel to suggest that she could possibly despise Basil's best friend. Don't let an idea like that take root, Dudley. 'Lookers on see most of the game,” you know, and what I have seen has suggested quite differently. Good-night.”
”Good-night. Try to sleep. I'll take you to Charing Cross myself.”
The next morning Hal started off alone, to find her way to Lorraine's hiding-place, and give her what comfort of friends.h.i.+p she could.
And all the time she asked herself with harried thoughts, ”Who has brought this trouble into Lorraine's life?”
And at the back of her mind was the dread premonition ”Was it indeed Alymer Hermon?”
CHAPTER XLII
When Hal first saw her old friend she was almost too shocked for words at the swift change in her. Lorraine tried hard to smile cheerfully, but she could not hide any longer from herself how seriously ill she had grown, and she felt it useless to try and hide it from Hal.
Jean had not told her of the letter, and she knew nothing of Hal's coming until she was actually in the house. When she saw her, she could have cried for gladness.
”How good of you, Hal... how good of you!” she breathed, and Hal, on her knees by the couch, in an unsteady voice replied:
”Oh, why didn't you send for me sooner? Why didn't you let me come here instead of going to Norway?”
An hour later she went out to the little post office, and wired to London to know if she might remain away for a week.