Part 57 (1/2)
She said this in the most natural way possible.
But Haverford was not at Yelverton for Christmas. He wired from the north that he was ill--had caught a violent cold, and was unable to travel.
He was not too ill, however, to forget his Christmas remembrances.
Packages kept arriving by every post, and the children were in a ferment of excitement. They rushed to their mother as each new gift arrived, and Camilla confessed to Caroline that she was frantically jealous of the attachment between Rupert and the little creatures.
”Of course, it is the best thing that could happen, I know that; but, after all, they are my children, and I ought to come first. As it is, I believe I am not even placed now. Rupert comes first--before any one; you are second; and Agnes a good third.”
”You are talking nonsense,” said Caroline, in her calmest way; ”the children love you more and more every day.”
Camilla smiled, frowned, and sighed.
”Well, it may be so; at all events, I don't mind Rupert, or you, or Agnes. It would have killed me if the old man had taken them, and turned them against me, as he certainly would have done. Oh, Caroline, that reminds me; has Betty chosen something for Violet Lancing's girl?
If not, let her send this bangle. I mean to be kind to that girl for Horace's sake.”
A moment or two later Camilla said with a laugh--
”I wonder if Rupert will send me a Christmas present.... I suppose I must not expect it.”
But she got one--a very lovely and unique necklace, composed of pieces of jade strung on a fine chain, alternated with emeralds.
Caroline's gift was a writing-table, and when the heavily laden post-bag was opened on Christmas morning there was a letter also.
She kept it for several hours unopened, and then stole out into the cold garden to read it. It was not very long. He had the trick of going straight to the point. But it was a letter that moved her deeply--that made her heart beat and her eyes dim. He called her ”dearest,” and once he wrote ”dear capricious Caroline.”
He did not claim her boldly this time, nor did he plead too much. There was a directness in his simplicity that almost made her waver. But she delayed answering till the morrow; and all that evening, as she felt the old irresistible fascination of Camilla's beautiful presence hold her in sway, she felt equally her heart grow steady and that strange rush of joy die down.
”It is impossible ... impossible,” she said to herself; and though she put her words as gently as she knew how, she wrote and for a second time refused to be his wife.
CHAPTER XXII
When the question of a return to that little town house was mooted in earnest, Caroline joined issue with Mrs. Brenton in p.r.o.nouncing the suggestion impracticable.
She was honest enough to confess that her objection was to a large degree based on sentiment.
”Oh, don't go back there; you had so many, many dark days there,” she urged. ”Besides, the house is let till March. Why not let us go to Paris for a few months? Don't you think that is a good idea?”
”Oh!” said Camilla, delightedly; ”then you _are_ coming with me?”
It was Caroline who looked surprised.
”Of course. I should love to stay six months in Paris. I want to pick up French if I can, and it would be so good for the children.”
Camilla agreed.
”And if Cuthbert should pa.s.s through Paris we need not see him,” she mused. ”Happily he would not be able to stay for more than a few days; he owes too much. Caroline, we _will_ do this!”
So it was settled, despite Mrs. Brenton's protestations; but, as usual, Camilla upset the arrangement. She was happy at Yelverton for a week or two, but all at once she got restless, and went up to town for a few days. From thence she announced that she was going to pay one or two country visits.