Part 18 (1/2)

He chucked the child under its chin, as he went by, gently and affectionately, and came with outstretched hand to his friend--for he liked sunny impetuous young Blake, though he thought very lightly of him. As they shook hands, Blake's eyes travelled past him, and dwelt again on Sibylla. She stood by her child, and her regard was on her husband. Then, for a moment, she met Blake's inquiring gaze. The slightest smile came on her lips, just a touch of colour in her cheeks.

”Yes, but it's time for him to go upstairs,” she said.

Grantley had pa.s.sed on to the table, and was pouring himself out a cup of tea. Sibylla walked across the room and rang the bell for the baby's nurse. Blake took up his hat.

The spell was broken. What had it been and why was it dispelled? Blake did not know, but turgid feelings mingled with his aspirations now, and he looked at Grantley Imason with a new covert hostility.

CHAPTER IX

A SUCCESSFUL MISSION

Efforts were on foot to avert the scandal and public disaster which so imminently threatened the Courtlands. Grantley Imason, who had a real friends.h.i.+p for Tom, interested himself in them. Not merely the home was in danger, but Tom's position and career, also Tom's solvency. He had always lived up to his income; now, without doubt, he was spending sums far beyond it; and, as has been seen, the precautions which he had declared he would use were falling into neglect as the sense of hopelessness grew upon his mind. From such neglect to blank effrontery and defiance looked as though it would be but a short step. And he refused obstinately to make any advances to his wife; he would not hear of suing for peace.

”My dear fellow, think of the children!” Grantley urged.

Poor Tom often thought of the children, and often tried not to. He knew very well where he was going and what his going there must mean to them.

Yet he held on his way, obstinately a.s.suring himself that the fault for which they must suffer was not his.

”I do think of them, but---- It was past bearing, Grantley.”

”I think you must have given her a real fright by now. Perhaps she'll be more amenable.”

”Harriet amenable! Good Lord!”

”Look here, if she can be got to express regret and hold out the olive branch, you know, will you drop all this, and give the thing one more trial?”

It was a favourable moment for the request, since Tom happened to be cross with his pleasures too--they were so very expensive. He allowed himself to be persuaded to say yes.

But who was to beard Lady Harriet in her den? There was no eagerness to undertake the task; yet everybody agreed that a personal interview was the only chance. Grantley fairly ”funked it,” and honestly said so.

Raymore's nerves were still so upset that his excuses were accepted--it was morally certain that Harriet, if she became angry, would taunt him about his boy. Selford? That was absurd. And it was not a woman's work.

The lot fell on John Fanshaw--John, with his business prestige and high reputation for common sense. And Lady Harriet liked him best of them all. The choice was felt to be excellent by everyone--except John himself.

”Haven't I enough worries of my own?” he demanded. ”Why the devil am I to take on Tom Courtland's too?”

”Oh, do try! It can't hurt you if she does fly into a pa.s.sion, John.”

He grumbled a great deal more; and Christine, in an unusually chastened mood, performed the wifely function of meeting his grumbles with mingled consolation and praise.

”Well, I'll go on Sunday,” he said at last, and added, with a look across the table: ”Perhaps some of my own troubles will be off my mind by then.”

Christine flushed a little.

”Oh, I hope so,” she said rather forlornly.

”I do hope so!” he declared emphatically. ”I build great hopes on it. It is to-day you're going, isn't it?”

”Yes, to-day. After lunch I said I'd come.”