Part 61 (2/2)
She described to him, with a number of new tricks of gesture caught from her French cla.s.s-mates, how she had that morning outwitted all her guardians, who supposed that she had gone to Versailles with one of the senior members of the cla.s.s she was attending at the Conservatoire, a young teacher, ”_tres sage_,” with whom she had been allowed once or twice to go to museums and galleries. To accomplish it had required an elaborate series of deceptions, which Hester had carried through, apparently, without a qualm. Except that at the end of her story there was a pa.s.sing reference to Aunt Alice--”poor darling!”--”who would have a fit if she knew.”
Philip, coffee-cup in hand, half smiling, looked at her meantime through his partially closed lids. Richard, indeed! She was Neville all through, the Neville of the picture, except for the colour of the hair, and the soft femininity. And here she sat, prattling--foolish dear!--about ”mamma,” and ”Aunt Alice,” and ”my tiresome sisters!”
”Certainly you shall not pay for me!--not a _sou,_” said Hester flus.h.i.+ng.
”I have plenty of money. Take it please, at once.” And she pushed her share over the table, with a peremptory gesture.
Meryon took it with a smile and a shrug, and she, throwing away the cigarette she had been defiantly smoking, rose from the table.
”Now then, what shall we do? Oh! no museums! I am being educated to death! Let us go for a walk in the forest; and then I must catch my train, or the world will go mad.”
So they walked briskly into the forest, and were soon sufficiently deep among its leaf-strewn paths, to be secure from all observation. Two hours remained of wintry sunlight before they must turn back toward the station.
Hester walked along swinging a small silk bag in which she carried her handkerchief and purse. Suddenly, in a narrow path girt by some tall hollies and withered oaks, she let it fall. Both stooped for it, their hands touched, and as Hester rose she found herself in Meryon's arms.
She made a violent effort to free herself, and when it failed, she stood still and submitted to be kissed, like one who accepts an experience, with a kind of proud patience.
”You think you love me,” she said at last, pus.h.i.+ng him away. ”I wonder whether you do!”
And flushed and panting, she leant against a tree, looking at him with a strange expression, in which melancholy mingled with resentment; pa.s.sing slowly into something else--that soft and shaken look, that yearning of one longing and yet fearing to be loved, which had struck dismay into Meynell on the afternoon when he had pursued her to the Abbey.
Philip came close to her.
”You think I have no Roddy!” she said, with bitterness. ”Don't kiss me again!”
He refrained. But catching her hand, and leaning against the trunk beside her, he poured into her ear protestations and flattery; the ordinary language of such a man at such a moment. Hester listened to it with a kind of eagerness. Sometimes, with a slight frown, as though ear and mind waited, intently, for something that did not come.
”I wonder how many people you have said the same things to before!” she said suddenly, looking searchingly into his face. ”What have you got to tell me about that Scotch girl?”
”Richard's Scotch girl?”--he laughed, throwing his handsome head back against the tree--”whom Richard supposes me to have married? Well, I had a great flirtation with her, I admit, two years ago, and it is sometimes rather difficult in Scotland to know whether you are married or no. You know of course that all that's necessary is to declare yourselves man and wife before witnesses? However--perhaps you would like to see a letter from the lady herself on the subject?”
”You had it ready?” she said, doubtfully.
”Well, considering that Richard has been threatening me for months, not only with the loss of you, but with all sorts of pains and penalties besides, I have had to do something! Of course I have done a great deal.
This is one of the doc.u.ments in the case. It is an affidavit really, drawn up by my solicitor and signed by the lady whom Richard supposes to be my injured wife!”
He placed an envelope in her hands.
Hester opened it with a touch of scornful reluctance. It contained a categorical denial and repudiation of the supposed marriage.
”Has Uncle Richard seen it?” she asked coldly, as she gave it back to him.
”Certainly he has, by now.” He took another envelope from his pocket. ”I won't bother you with anything more--the thing is really too absurd!--but here, if you want it, is a letter from the girl's brother. Brothers are generally supposed to keep a sharp lookout on their sisters, aren't they?
Well, this brother declares that Meynell's inquiries have come to nothing, absolutely nothing, in the neighbourhood--except that they have made people very angry. He has got no evidence--simply because there is none to get! I imagine, indeed, that by now he has dropped the whole business. And certainly it is high time he did; or I shall have to be taking action on my own account before long!”
He looked down upon her, as she stood beside him, trying to make out her expression.
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