Part 31 (1/2)

”It will probably rain all the time I am there. And I shall be able to forgive it because of its first delicious moments.”

”What are you going to do?” He asked the question almost roughly.

”I am going to be with my father, in a mean, little two-storied house of six rooms. At least, it is mean outwardly; but no house could be mean inside where he lived and spread his light. He will have to be at his work every day till he gets his fortnight's holiday in September. If I get away in, say, a fortnight's time, I shall help my stepmother about the house while he is at business all day; I shall have a thousand things to do. They have only one servant; and my stepmother and sisters do the greater part of the work. They would treat me like a queen when I go over there, if I would let them; but I never do let them. I love dusting, and cooking, and mending, and helping the little ones with their lessons. Then as soon as my father is free I am going to carry them off to a hotel I know between the mountains and the sea. It is a big, old-fas.h.i.+oned house, and there is a lovely garden, full of roses and lilies, and phlox and stocks and hollyhocks and mignonette and sweet peas. I stayed there once with dear Lady Anne. We shall all have a lovely time. There is a trout-stream at the end of the garden and the trout sail by in it. There are hundreds of little streams running down from the mountains. They make golden pools in the road and they hang like gold and silver fringes from the crags that edge the road.”

There had been a deliberation in what she told him about the little house. But she was mistaken if she thought to surprise him. He was picturing her there at her domestic duties and thinking that no small or mean surroundings could dwarf her soul's stature. Hadn't the hideous official room that held her been heaven to him?--the singing of the naked gas-jets the music of the spheres?

”It will be a great change from London,” he said.

”I am going back to the old days. I have refused to see any of my fine new friends. The Ilberts will be staying over there with the Lord Lieutenant at the same time. I have forbidden Mr. Ilbert to call.”

Again his mood changed to one of unreasonable irritation. What had she to do with the Ilberts, or they with her?

”If I find myself over there I shall certainly call,” he said, with an air of doggedness.

”Oh, very well, then, you shall,” she said merrily. ”_You_ won't embarra.s.s us, not even if we have to ask you to dinner.”

An hour or two later the good news came, brought by Mrs. Rooke in person. Captain Langrishe could hardly yet be considered out of danger, but he lived; he had been sent down in a litter to the nearest station, where there were appliances and comforts and white people all about him, outside the sights and sounds of war, beyond the danger of recapture by the enemy.

Nelly bore the better news well: she had been prepared for it, she said.

Seeing her so quiet, Mrs. Rooke brought out a sc.r.a.p of blue ribbon cut through and blood-stained. It was in a little case which had been hacked through by knives. It had been sent home to her at the first when there was no hope, when, practically, G.o.dfrey Langrishe was a dead man.

”It is not mine, my dear,” she said to Nelly, ”and I think it must be yours. I did not dare show it to you before.”

Nelly went pale and red. Yes, it was her ribbon, which had fallen from her hair that morning more than a year ago when Captain Langrishe had ridden by with the regiment and the wind had carried off her ribbon.

She received it with a trembling eagerness.

”Yes, it is mine,” she said. ”I knew he had it. He showed it to me before he went away.”

”How furious G.o.dfrey will be when he misses it!” Mrs. Rooke said.

”Somebody will be having a bad quarter of an hour. And now, Nelly, when are you going to be well enough to come to see my mother? She longs to know you. She is the dearest old soul. She wanted me to bring you to her while yet we were in suspense. But I waited for news, one way or another.”

”I should love to go,” Nelly said.

”She has a room in a gable fitted up for you; the windows open on roses.

The place is full of sweet sounds and sights. All through this trouble her thoughts have been with you. Will you come?”

”If papa can spare me.”

”Then I shall ask him, and we can go down on Sat.u.r.day. Won't he come for the day? When you know my mother I am going to leave you there with her.

Poor Cyprian is off to Marienbad and I must go with him. He's dreadfully afraid of losing his figure. A fat lawyer, he says, is the one unpardonable thing. Will you look after my mother?”

The General was only too glad to give his consent to the plan which had brought the colour to Nelly's cheek and the light to her eye. After leaving Nelly in Suss.e.x he and Robin would go down to Southampton, get out the yacht and cruise about the coast till Nelly felt inclined for a longer run.

So Mary Gray was free to go. She went out in the afternoon, leaving Robin to look after his cousin. The General had gone off to the club with a lighter heart than he had known for many a month. Robin had suggested a drive, but Nelly would not hear of that. She was going to save up her pleasure, she said, for Suss.e.x and Sat.u.r.day. She consented to walk in the Square, where she had not been for quite a long time. He noticed that she looked delicate and languid and his manner to her was very tender. In fact, a new under-gardener in the Square, who was very susceptible to romance, put quite an erroneous interpretation on Robin's manner to his cousin, and hovered in their vicinity with eager curiosity till he was pulled up sharply by one of his superior officers.

”So we are all going to scatter, Nell,” Drummond said, half regretfully.