Part 17 (2/2)

”No,” said Arthur, again ”my family's all right. I've no very near relations except my sister, but you know her, and you know all about us.

We're not adventurers in any sense of the word.”

”Far from it,” agreed Philip warmly. Then for a moment or two he relapsed into silence. ”Does your sister--does Lady West know about--about this mysterious affair?” he asked abruptly, after some pondering.

”Nothing whatever. I, of course, was bound by every consideration not to tell her--to tell no one anything till it was understood by--the Trevannions. And I had no reason for consulting her or--any friend,”

Arthur replied.

He spoke jerkily and with effort, as if he were putting force on himself to endure what yet he was convinced was absolutely useless torture.

But his words gave Keir a new opening, which he was quick to seize.

”That's just it,” he exclaimed eagerly. ”That's just where it strikes me you've gone wrong. You should have consulted some one--not myself, not your sister even; I don't say whom, but some one sensible and trustworthy. I believe your mind has got warped. You've been thinking over this trouble, whatever it is, till you can't see it rightly. You've exaggerated it out of all proportion, and you shouldn't trust your own morbid judgment.”

Lingard did not answer. He stood motionless, his eyes fixed upon the ground. For an instant a wild hope dashed through Philip that at last he had made some impression. But as Arthur slowly raised his dim, worn eyes, and looked him in the face, it faded again, even before the young man spoke.

”To satisfy you, I will tell you this much. I have consulted one person--a man whom you would allow was trustworthy and wise and good.

From him I have hidden nothing whatever, and he agrees with me that I have no choice--that duty points unmistakably to the course I am pursuing.”

Again a flash of suggestion struck his hearer.

”One person--a man,” he repeated. ”Arthur, is it some priest? Have they been converting or perverting you, my boy? Are you going over to Rome, fancying yourself called to be a Trappist, or a--those fellows at the Grande Chartreuse, you remember?”

For the second time during the interview, Arthur smiled, and his smile was a trifle less ghastly this time.

”No, again,” he said. ”You're quite on a wrong tack. I have not the slightest inclination that way. I--I wish I had. No, my adviser is no priest. But he's one of the best of men, all the same, and one of the wisest.”

”You won't tell me who he is?”

”I cannot.”

”And”--Philip was reluctant to try his last hope, and felt conscious that he would do it clumsily--”Arthur,” he burst out, ”you will see her--Daisy--once more? She has a right to it. You are putting enough upon her without refusing this one request of hers.”

He stood up as he spoke. He himself had grown strangely pale, and seeing this, as he glanced at him, Lingard's own face became ashen.

He shook his head.

”Good G.o.d!” he said, ”I think this might have been spared me. No, I will not see her again. The only thing I can do for her is to refuse this last request. Tell her so, Philip--tell her what I say. And now leave me. Don't shake hands with me. I don't wish it, and I daresay you don't.

If--if we never meet again, you and I--and who knows?--if this is our goodbye, thank you, old fellow, thank you for all you have tried to do.

Perhaps I know the cost of it to you better than you imagine. Good-bye, Phil!”

Keir turned towards the door. But he looked back ere he reached it.

Arthur was standing as he had been--motionless.

”You're not thinking of killing yourself, are you?” he said quietly.

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