Part 41 (2/2)
His voice was perfectly adamantine. Trix felt as if she were up against a piece of rock. She knew it was useless to pursue the subject further, yet for Pia's sake she tried again.
”Mr. Danver, why do you want everyone to think you're dead?” There was something almost childish in the way she put the question.
Nicholas laughed.
”Partly, my dear young lady, for my own amus.e.m.e.nt, but largely for a scheme I have on hand.”
Trix leant forward.
”Is the scheme really important?” she queried, her eyes on his face.
”I don't know,” he replied, watching her. ”But my amus.e.m.e.nt is.”
”Amus.e.m.e.nt,” said Trix slowly.
”Yes, my amus.e.m.e.nt,” he repeated mockingly. ”I've had none for fifteen years. For fifteen years I have lived here like a log, alone, solitary.
Now I've got a little amus.e.m.e.nt in pretending to be dead.”
Trix shook her head. It sounded quite mad. Then she remembered Doctor Hilary's words to her when she had met him at the gates of Chorley Old Hall last August. He knew it was mad, but it was saving Nicholas from being atrophied, so he had said. To Trix's mind at least a dozen more satisfactory ways might have been found to accomplish that end. But every man to his own taste. Also it was quite possible that a brain which had been atrophied, or practically atrophied for fifteen years, was not particularly capable of conceiving anything more enlivening.
”But you needn't have been a log for fifteen years,” she said suddenly.
”Needn't I?” he retorted. ”Look at me.” He made a gesture towards his helpless legs.
”I wasn't thinking of your body,” said Trix calmly. ”I was thinking of your mind.”
Nicholas's face hardened.
”And so was I,” he replied, ”when I preferred to sit here like a log, rather than face the prying sympathy of my fellow-humans.”
”Oh!” said Trix softly, a light of illumination breaking in upon her.
”But, Mr. Danver, sympathy isn't always prying.”
”Bah!” he retorted. ”Prying or not, I didn't want it. Staring eyes, condoling words, and mockery in their hearts! 'He got what he deserved for his madness,' they'd have said.”
Trix leant forward, putting her hands on the table.
”Mr. Danver,” she said thoughtfully, ”if you were a younger man, or I were an older woman, I'd say you were--well, quite remarkably foolish.”
Nicholas chuckled. He liked this.
”You might forget our respective ages for a few moments,” he suggested, ”that is, if you have anything enlivening to say.”
”I don't know about it being enlivening,” remarked Trix calmly, ”but I have got quite a good deal to say.”
”Say it then,” chuckled Nicholas.
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