Part 45 (1/2)
It would be difficult to say when the awakening first came to Lawrence.
Before it came he felt it growing every day. After it came, it seemed to have been there all along. At first he blinded himself with the belief that he was only piqued. That it would on the whole be entertaining to break down her defences and subdue her. He was grateful to her for giving him even that much new interest in life.
Afterward he faced the situation with entire honesty. He admitted frankly to himself that he loved her, and he knew, without going any further, that it was the love of his life. All the past peccadilloes, entanglements, fancies, were nothing--were mere episodes--nothing seemed real any longer except that he loved Paddy Adair. He, the graceful _dilettante_, the highly eligible society man, the casual, cynical scholar--she, the harum-scarum tom-boy, the fearless Irish romp--”Paddy-the-next-best-thing.”
When the awakening had come, and he faced the facts squarely, he believed he had loved her ever since the night of the Omeath dance, when, in his den, she had flung defiance at him, and marched off with her head in the air, in lofty disdain.
He reviewed what had transpired between them since, and; his thoughts were gloomy enough. Most emphatically the defiance and the disdain were still the dominant notes she was at no further pains now, than then, to hide her contempt. He knew that since the night of Gwen's dance she had resorted to strategy to avoid him. Since his mother and Kathleen returned home there had been much sight-seeing and entertaining, and Paddy was continually requisitioned. Yet she contrived to turn up on the occasions when he had another engagement, and remain absent when he made a victim of himself for the express purpose of seeing her. Even at a second dance she had outwitted him.
”Lawrence will take you home,” Doreen had said in his presence, and Paddy had politely replied: ”Thank you.” Yet when he sought her neat the end of the evening, it was to find she had already gone--undoubtedly missing two dances rather than accept his escort.
The third time, however, he was one too many for her. He watched from a safe vantage ground until he saw her give a quiet glance round, and then surrept.i.tiously slip away. Instantly he accosted Doreen.
”It is raining in torrents,” he told her, ”and I don't want the horses to wait to-night. I shall go home now, and send a taxi for you and Kathleen at one o'clock.”
Doreen thought it a little odd, but was immediately claimed by a partner, and Lawrence gave her no time to reply.
When Paddy slipped cautiously out of the cloak-room and made for the door, she stopped short before a coated figure unmistakably waiting for her, and said: ”Oh!”
”I'm going to take you home in the carriage,” said Lawrence, with a resolution against which she felt powerless. ”I've arranged with the others to be fetched in a taxi.”
Paddy flashed defiance at him, bit her teeth together, and descended the steps with the air of an outraged princess. Lawrence reflected that it was a long way to Shepherd's Bush, and smiled grimly to himself--partly at the feelings of his coachman, and partly at the success of his ruse.
So they bowled along in a comfortable brougham, though Paddy disdained the padded cus.h.i.+ons, and sat bolt upright like a terrier on guard.
Lawrence sat back in his corner and watched her, feeling for the moment almost content. It was something, at least, to have captured her for a few minutes and have her all to himself. Her skirts brushed against his foot, her flowers exhaled a delicate perfume in the carriage, her cloak, falling open, slipped back a little on to his knee. Lawrence had reached the stage when a man is thankful for very small mercies, and he was vaguely thankful for these.
”Am I permitted to express an old friend's congratulations on your appearance?” he asked presently, in a voice that held no mockery.
”When I am with you I seem to do nothing but repeat myself,” was the crus.h.i.+ng reply. ”How often am I to tell you that what you do, say, or think, is not of the smallest consequence to me.”
”You could not please me better than by repeating yourself,” a little whimsically. She stared in front of her.
”Can any one come to your surgery for medicine?” presently. ”If I came with an ill, would you try to administer healing to me?”
”I should try to administer a rebuff that would prevent your ever coming again.”
He smiled a little. ”You couldn't hit harder than you have; and yet I still come.”
”That is your colossal obstinacy. Nothing in your life has ever attracted you except the unattainable. I understand perfectly, that because I happen to have the hardihood to withstand your overtures, and the originality,” with finely toned satire, ”to prefer your room to your company, it amuses you to thrust your attentions upon me, just to see how soon I shall give in and bow down with the rest. You may save yourself the trouble. I shall never give in. It is only because of your mother and sisters that I a.s.sume any degree of friendliness whatever.”
”And what if I say I will never give in either? I am a strong man, Paddy, when I make up my mind about anything.”
”You are nothing of the kind. You are a coward, or you would not persist in taking unfair advantages of me.”
He flushed, but refused to get angry.
”I have taken no unfair advantage to-night. Only yesterday you accepted my escort before Doreen.”
”Only because I was cornered, and you knew it.”
He was silent for a s.p.a.ce, then returned to the charge.