Volume Ii Part 7 (1/2)

”Let me go up to Annette,” she said. ”The little wound--oh! it is not much, I _know_ it is not much--ought to be properly seen to. We will do it between us in a moment. Then come--I will send her down for you. I want to tell you.”

But in her heart of hearts she was just a little afraid of telling him.

What if an exaggerated version should get into the papers--if it should really do him harm--at this critical moment! She was always tormented by this dread, a dread born of long-past indiscretions and mistakes.

He acquiesced, but first he insisted on half leading, half carrying her upstairs; and she permitted it, delighting in his strong arm.

Half an hour later she sent for him. The maid found him pacing up and down the hall, waiting.

When he entered her room she was lying on her sofa in a white wrapper of some silky stuff. The black lace had been drawn again round her head, and he saw nothing but a very pale face and her eager, timid eyes--timid for no one in the world but him. As he caught sight of her, she produced in him that exquisite mingled impression of grace, pa.s.sion, self-yielding, which in all its infinite variations and repet.i.tions made up for him the constant poem of her beauty. But though she knew it, she glanced at him anxiously as he approached her. It had been to her a kind of luxury of feeling, in the few moments that she had been waiting for him, to cherish a little fear of him--of his displeasure.

”Now describe exactly what you have been doing,” he said, sitting down by her with a troubled face and taking her hand, as soon as he had a.s.sured himself that the cut was slight and would leave no scar.

She told her tale, and was thrilled to see that he frowned. She laid her hand on his shoulder.

”It is the first public thing I have done without consulting you. I meant to have asked you yesterday, but we were both so busy. The meeting was got up rather hurriedly, and they pressed me to speak, after all the arrangements were made.”

”We are both of us too busy,” he said, rather sadly; ”we glance, and nod, and bustle by--”

He did not finish the quotation, but she could. Her eyes scanned his face. ”Do you think I ought to have avoided such a thing at such a time?

Will it do harm?”

His brow cleared. He considered the matter.

”I think you may expect some of the newspapers to make a good deal of it,” he said, smiling.

And, in fact, his own inherited tastes and instincts were all chafed by her story. His wife--the wife of a Cabinet Minister--pleading for her husband's Bill, or, as the enemy might say, for his political existence, with an East End meeting, and incidentally with the whole public--exposing herself, in a time of agitation, to the rowdyism and the stone-throwing that wait on such things! The notion set the fastidious old-world temper of the man all on edge. But he would never have dreamed of arguing the matter so with her. A sort of high chivalry forbade it. In marrying her he had not made a single condition--would have suffered tortures rather than lay the smallest fetter upon her. In consequence, he had been often thought a weak, uxorious person. Maxwell knew that he was merely consistent. No sane man lays his heart at the feet of a Marcella without counting the cost.

She did not answer his last remark. But he saw that she was wistful and uneasy, and presently she laid her fingers lightly on his.

”Tell me if I am too much away from you--too much occupied with other people.”

He sighed,--the slightest sigh,--but she winced. ”I had just an hour before dinner,” he said; ”you were not here, and the house seemed very empty. I would have come down to fetch you, but there were some important papers to read before to-morrow.” A Cabinet meeting was fixed, as she knew, for the following day. ”Then, I have been making Saunders draw up a statement for the newspapers in answer to Watton's last attack, and it would have been a help to talk to you before we sent it off. Above all, if I had known of the meeting I should have begged you not to go. I ought to have warned you yesterday, for I knew that there was some ugly agitation developing down there. But I never thought of you as likely to face a mob. Will you please reflect”--he pressed her hand almost roughly against his lips--”that if that stone had been a little heavier, and flung a little straighter--”

He paused. A dew came to her eyes, a happy glow to her cheek. As for her, she was grateful to the stone that had raised such heart-beats.

Perhaps some instinct told him not to please her in this way too much, for he rose and walked away a moment.

”There! don't let's think of it, or I shall turn tyrant after all, and plunge into 'shalls' and 'sha'n'ts'! You _know_ you carry two lives, and all the plans that either of us care about, in your hand. You say that Tressady brought you home?”

He turned and looked at her.

”Yes. Edward Watton brought him to the meeting.”

”But he has been down to see you there several times before, as well as coming here?”

”Oh yes! almost every week since we met at Castle Luton.”