Part 53 (1/2)

Every now and then Caroline would call--

”Bed-time, chicks.”

But she said it dreamily, and no one took any notice.

She was spellbound by the marvellous beauty of the sea and sky. As the sun descended slowly and reluctantly the world was alive with colour.

Fiery streaks of orange, mingled with the tenderest rose-pink flung themselves upwards in the sky, forming a diadem for the departing monarch; and hovering near (creeping every instant closer like ministering spirits) cl.u.s.tered the clouds, some deepest purple, and some misty grey. Below, the sea murmured its evening hymn, whilst its surface caught the reflected pageantry, s.h.i.+fting from one wondrous scheme of colour to another. Caroline's heart contracted with emotion as she watched the golden glory melt into a sea of red, then the red fade into a wondrous mauve, that in its turn glided into turquoise blue; and lastly into the melancholy green that heralded the dark shades of night.

It was really growing late; Caroline got up with an effort and called the children.

Baby nestled in her arms at once, a flushed and sandy little individual. It was only a few steps fortunately to the annex of the hotel. Betty was taking farewell of an admirer. There was not a masculine heart, even of the tenderest age, that had not succ.u.mbed to Betty's fascinations.

At the children's ball every week at the Casino the little ”Anglaise”

was the acknowledged beauty. Just before they left the sands Caroline turned and looked at the sea; it was growing cold and grey now, the pale moon gave it a touch of sadness.

Somewhere over where the sea and the night sky met lay the land where he was. If only her spirit could wing itself through these thousands of miles and look upon him!

He seemed lost. It was not only distance that divided him.

Since that June night in the old garden there had been silence between them--a silence that was fraught with the most hurtful significance to Caroline.

She turned away and cuddled baby closer.

”News from Camilla,” said Mrs. Brenton, as the little cavalcade turned into the hotel gardens. ”She is in Dieppe. We shall see her to-morrow.

She writes in a great hurry, but seems in the best of spirits. It is useless,” added Mrs. Brenton, with a faint smile, ”to pretend that I can keep up a defensive att.i.tude with Camilla. She writes for all the world as if she had never given me an hour's uneasiness in all her life!”

Caroline dressed for dinner an hour later with a nervous feeling, that was almost apprehension, weighting her.

”Why has she come to Dieppe?” she asked herself. ”Can she know that he is there? I wish I could be more sure of him. It is just because he never speaks of her now that he makes me so anxious.”

As luck would have it, that night when they went for their usual stroll after dinner Agnes Brenton introduced Broxbourne's name.

It was her husband who had urged her to let the matter stand all this time. She would not have spoken now only that she really was perplexed by Caroline's manner, and could not rid herself of the suggestion that though the girl was so bright, and her spirit seemed so unflagging, she was in reality not at all happy. From this it was a very short step to imagine that the man who was undoubtedly hovering about Caroline was the cause of this unhappiness.

They stood a long time in silence watching the moonlit sea; then Mrs.

Brenton said, with a sigh--

”I shall be sorry to go away from here;” and Caroline said--

”So shall I.” A moment later she said, ”I wish I knew what my future is going to be.”

Mrs. Brenton looked at her.

”What do you mean, dear child?”

”I mean,” said Caroline, ”that everything before me is uncertain.

Undoubtedly the children's mother will make an attempt to have them with her; but this cannot possibly be a lasting arrangement, because I know something about Cuthbert Baynhurst, and I can hardly picture him living in the same house, however large, with children. And,” said Caroline, with a little catch in her voice, ”a.s.suredly in that house there would be no place for me.”

Mrs. Brenton was silent a minute, and then she said--