Part 45 (2/2)
”Why won't you cry a truce, Paddy?” and his voice was strangely winsome.
”No one is hurt now, and you cannot choose but feel in your heart that it was a good thing I went away in time.”
To any one less unsophisticated than Paddy, less direct in all her thoughts and actions, less fearlessly independent, such a tone of voice must have been dangerously alluring--coming, moreover, from such as he, with all his advantages, to such as she with all her losses. But Paddy was a soldier to the backbone. Having thrown down the glove and entered the combat, she would give and take no quarter. Personal gain was nothing--personal loss still less--Lawrence was the enemy--the enemy she had declared war against, and until the conduct that had so infuriated her was amply atoned for, she would not only stick to her guns, but was of the stuff to die uselessly beside them for a lost cause. She was her father over again at the sternest moments of his brilliant career. No parleying with the enemy--War. The old charm for once fell on heedless ears. She continued to look rigidly out into the night, with her face averted, and did not even condescend to reply.
She was thinking with no small satisfaction that he would no doubt soon be leaving London for a long time. Already arrangements were in progress for Mrs Blake and the girls to go to Mourne Lodge, and it was not in the least likely that Lawrence would accompany them. At any time he had only gone under protest, and that very evening Doreen had expressed curiosity as to where he would go when they departed. The thought that she would probably not see him again for months after to-night, further gladdened and fortified her.
When he spoke again she was ready for him.
”Well?” he asked, in that most beguiling of voices. ”Is it to be a truce, Paddy--for the sake of the old days!”
She stared straight before her.
”It is only when the old days cease to exist there can be a truce between you and me,” in measured tones. ”On account of the old days, and because they will live to our last gasp, I shall never again be your friend.”
Then a surprising thing happened--a thing that took her breath away, and left her speechless. Suddenly, from leaning back in his corner, he started up, and bent forward, and seized both her hands in his in a grip of iron.
”I don't want you to be my friend!” he exclaimed, almost roughly. ”Good G.o.d! as if I should put myself out, and go to the lengths I have, just to gain a friend!” He gave a little harsh laugh. ”A friend, indeed!-- no, I don't want your friends.h.i.+p, listen, Paddy--” the hands gripping hers tightened, and she saw in the dim light that he was very white, and his eyes gleamed strangely, and masterful resolve filled his face. ”It is a _wife_ I want--not a friend--and a _wife_ I mean to have. This feud is nonsense. It is mere obstinacy now. If I behaved wrongly to Eileen I am sorry. I can't say any more, and you can see for yourself it was a good thing we never got engaged. Are you going to let an ancient thing like that come between us--punish two people for a third one who is unhurt? I say 'two,' because I know I could make you happy, if you would drop this--this--prejudice, and be your old self again.”
While he was speaking Paddy herself turned very pale and for a moment there was a bewildered expression in her eyes, as she continued to gaze fixedly before her. Then once again she rallied her forces for a final blow. She wrenched her hands from his and faced him squarely.
”You must be mad!” she said. ”You can't know what you are talking about. How many times am I to tell you that I hate you?--Listen! hate you--_hate_ you. I do not know what you mean by a prejudice. I know that you dared to trifle with one of my house--I know that you nearly broke my sister's heart--I know that you are heartless, and cruel, and selfish--and then you talk to me of love and marriage,”--she paused for very indignation.
”Yes, I do,” he interrupted decisively, ”and I shall again, in spite of your kind summing up.”
”Then thank goodness you are going away, and, at least, we shall not meet any more for a long time!”
”Who told you I was going away!”
”Don't you always go away in the summer?--and besides the others are leaving for Mourne Lodge directly.”
”And what if they are?”
”You must go somewhere.”
”Certainly. I am going to Mourne Lodge with them.”
Paddy was momentarily staggered, then she peered out of the window at the street. ”We are just arriving,” she said, ”I can let myself in.
You need not get out in the rain.”
He only gave a low laugh, and took the latchkey out of her hand.
As he opened the door, he looked once more hard into her eyes:
”Good-night, Patricia the Great. We shall meet again at Omeath.”
Paddy went upstairs feeling a little dazed, and then commenced throwing things about to relieve her feelings.
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