Part 8 (1/2)

”I can't,” she said to herself; ”I absolutely can't!”

Haverford was standing by the fire.

The scent of her violets, the bewildering entrancement of her presence, made him dreamy.

How changed the room was!

The house was full of treasures--pictures, tapestries, bronzes, inanimate things which had cost thousands--but everything was as nothing compared with this living, breathing, beautiful woman.

How far more beautiful than all the rest she was!

”I shall be photographed on purpose,” he roused himself to say; and then he pulled himself together with a great effort. ”You want me?” he queried. ”I am only too delighted to do any little thing for you, Mrs.

Lancing. Pray let me know what I can do!”

Camilla got up and moved about a little aimlessly.

”It ... it's rather a big favour, really quite an enormous one,” she said. ”I ... I feel nervous....” Indeed, her voice broke a little.

”Don't be afraid,” said Haverford.

She caught her breath, and then she steadied her voice.

”Well, I have come to you because a dear friend of mine is in great trouble, Mr. Haverford,” she said. ”When I got home this afternoon I found a letter waiting for me. You would not know if I were to tell you her name. She lives in the country, and oh! she has had such a hard life. We ... we are old, old friends, and I suppose that is why she has turned to me now and asked me to help her.... I only wish I could...”

she broke off with a sharp sigh; ”it is so hateful to feel one cannot do things of this sort for people who really need help...” she said half impatiently, half wearily.

He stood quietly by the fireplace looking at her; he was barely conscious of what she was saying. The fragrance that floated about her--her clear voice with its pretty enunciation--the realization that she was so close, made a curious effect upon him: he felt stupid, dazed, burningly hot one instant, strangely cold the next.

Camilla hurried on nervously.

”When I read that letter, Mr. Haverford, I thought immediately of you.

I know I have no earthly right to bother you with things that belong to a stranger ... indeed”--she laughed faintly--”I am _quite_ prepared to hear you say that you are surprised; that you did not think that I should do anything of this sort I--I have come even expecting you to refuse.”

He left the fireplace and went nearer to her.

The dream dropped away from him.

”Some friend of yours is in trouble?” he asked. He smiled at her. ”You were quite right to come to me. I am only too glad to do anything for any one in trouble, but more especially I am glad to do anything for any one who is dear to you.”

Camilla bit her lip, and moved a little away from him, approaching the fire in her turn.

”How good you are!” she said. The words were wrung from her involuntarily, and there were tears in her eyes and tears in her voice.

Indeed, he moved her sharply at this moment.

There was such an element of simplicity about him and yet no weakness.

He accepted her story without question. The flimsy fabrication she had just given him was merely the truth to him, essentially so because it was she who spoke. No other man she knew would have been deceived by this story of a friend in the country, but Rupert was not like all these other men. He was very far removed from being a fool, but he was a long, long way from grasping the meaning of life as it was lived by most of the men and women who circled about him now.

Why, he was in many things a child compared to herself!...

Haverford had set down to his writing-table.