Part 11 (1/2)

”You--you forgive everything?” Her eyes blazed. ”What have you to forgive? What right have you to tell me that you forgive--me?”

”I can't let you go, I can't! Joan, I tell you I'll never throw the past in your face. I'll forget Alston and--”

The door behind the girl opened, the maid appeared.

”Miss,” she said, ”there's a car waiting down below. The man says he is from General Bartholomew, and he has come for you.”

”Thank you. I am coming now. My luggage is ready, Annie. Can you get someone to carry it down?”

Joan moved to the door. She looked back at Slotman. ”I hope,” she said quietly, ”that we shall never meet again, Mr. Slotman, and I wish you good morning!” And then she was gone.

Slotman walked to the window. He looked down and saw a car, by no means a cheap car, and he knew the value of things, none better. He waited, unauthorised visitor as he now was, and saw the girl come out, saw the liveried chauffeur touch his cap to her and hold the door for her, saw her enter. Presently he saw luggage brought down and placed on the roof of the limousine, and then the car drove away.

Slotman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ”Well, I'll be hanged! And who the d.i.c.kens is General Bartholomew? And why should she go to him, luggage and all? Is it anything to do with that fellow Alston? Has she accepted his offer after all?” He shook his head. ”No, I don't think so.”

The General put his two hands on Joan's shoulders. He looked at her, and then he kissed her.

”You are very welcome, my dear,” he said. ”I blame myself, I do indeed.

I ought to have found out where you were long ago. Your father was one of my dearest friends, G.o.d rest his soul. I knew him well, and his dear little wife too--your mother, my child, one of the loveliest women I ever saw. And you are like her, as like her as a daughter can be like her mother. Bless my heart, it takes me back when I see you, takes me back to the day when Tom married her, the loveliest girl--but I am forgetting, I am forgetting. You've brought your things?” he asked.

”Hudson, where's Hudson? Ring for Mrs. Weston, that's my housekeeper, child. She'll look after you. And now you are here, you will stay here with us for a long time, a very long time. It can't be too long, my dear. I am a lonely old man, but we'll do our best to make you happy.”

”I think,” Joan said softly, ”that you have done that already! Your welcome and your kindness, have made me happier than I have been for a very, very long time.”

CHAPTER XI

THE GENERAL CALLS ON HUGH

Hugh Alston lingered in London, why, he would not admit, even to himself. In reality he had lingered on in the hope of seeing Joan Meredyth again. How he should see her, where and when, he had not the faintest idea; but he wanted to see her even more than he wanted to see Hurst Dormer.

He had thought of going to the city and calling on Mr. Philip Slotman again. But he had not liked Mr. Slotman.

”If I see her, she will only suggest that I am annoying and insulting her,” Hugh thought. ”I suppose I thought that I was doing a very fine and very clever thing in asking her to be my wife!” His face burned at the thought. He had meant it well; but, looking back, it struck him that he had acted like a conceited fool. He had thought to make all right, by bestowing all his possessions and his person on her, and she had put him in his place, had declined even without thanks.

”And serve me jolly well right!” Hugh said. ”Who?” he added aloud.

”Gentleman, sir--General Bartholomew,” said the hotel page.

”And who on earth is he?”

”Short, stout gentleman, sir, white whiskers.”

”That's quite satisfactory then; I'll see him,” said Hugh.

He found the General in the lounge.