Truda was very silent all the way home; in plain words, she sulked, and
refused to give more than monosyllabic replies to Hope's gentle
overtures. When the house was reached she pleaded headache--that
convenient cloak for every feminine ill, from a heartache to had
temper--and retired to her room for the remainder of the afternoon.
Hope went into the empty library and wrote a long letter home, telling
all about her new plans, asking Theo's co-operation, and sending a list
of certain points to which she wished special attention to be given.
She wrote with interest, it is true, but with none of the elation which
she had known an hour earlier; for at the back of her mind lay a
consciousness that something disagreeable lay before her--a painful
situation to be faced so soon as leisure should be hers. When later on
she sat before her bedroom fire, in the interval before dressing for
dinner, she stared into the heart of the glowing coals and thrashed out
the subject--quietly, sweetly, fairly, as her nature was.
Truda was annoyed, and considered that she had been unfairly treated, in
that another had monopolised something to which she possessed a prior
claim. After that first very candid statement she had naturally relied
on the loyalty of the girl in whom she had confided, and although no
actual promise had been given, that girl had also considered herself
bound in honour. Had she kept faith? For the most part Hope could
honestly answer in the affirmative, but looking back over the last few
days, she acknowledged that she had been sufficiently "off guard" to
allow herself to be monopolised without protest, and so had engrossed
the lion's share of Ralph Merrilies' attention. _Without protest_! The
blood rushed over Hope's face at the misleading sound of the words.
There had been no thought of protest--no wish for it--nothing but purest
delight and satisfaction in being thus monopolised. So far from feeling
any dismay, her heart had given a leap of triumph each time he had come
to her side. What did this mean? Did it--could it possibly be falling
in love? Was she beginning to care more for Ralph Merrilies than for
any man whom she had known? She mentally placed the image of one
masculine friend after the other beside this acquaintance of a week's
standing, and lo! they were as nothing--their weal or woe touched her
not at all, compared with the lightest interest of this comparative
stranger. _Beginning_ to care! She cared already--cared with all her
heart--cared more than she had even known it was possible to care.
Realising this, Hope grew frightened, and clasped trembling hands in her
lap. What madness was it, what will-o'-the-wisp, for which she had
bartered her peace? She, Hope Charrington, poor, insignificant,
friendless, and he the owner of a fine estate, handsome, distinguished,
influential, with the _entree_ into any society which he desired to
affect, the world a playground over which to roam at will! With such a
choice before him, such a stage on which to play his life, how was it
possible that he could cast a thought in her direction? What attention
he had paid her had been but that which a man would naturally show
towards any girl who happened to be to him--for the time at least--the
most interesting member of a house-party. Hope did not delude herself
that Ralph had any penchant for the lively Truda, but since the two
moved in the same circle, and had many opportunities of meeting, it was
possible that in time to come he might return the girl's fancy; in any
case she could not be the one to stand between them.
"I'll go home," decided Hope drearily. "My time is up on Tuesday, and
though I know Avice will beg me to stay longer, this children's
entertainment will be a good excuse for getting back to town. I'll keep
out of his way as much as possible until I go, and forget all about him
when I step into the train. Ten days! Only ten days! It must be easy
enough to forget a little time like that. It would be cowardly to let
ten days interfere with one's life."
She was very quiet that evening, very subdued all next day, and so much
engrossed in helping her aunt that she was hardly seen by the rest of
the guests until evening came round. That she had been missed was
evident, but while the other men loudly regretted her absence, and plied
her with tiresome questions as to its cause, Ralph was silent, watching
her face with an anxious glance, and attending to her comfort with even
more than his usual quietly unobtrusive care. Hope felt that he had
divined a secret trouble, and she was sure of it the next morning after
breakfast, when, Mrs Loftus having sent her into the library to write
some notes, he suddenly remembered his own correspondence and followed
her into the room. Hope would have settled down to work at once, but
she could not be so ungracious as to refuse to help in his search for
some mislaid articles, and in the middle of commonplaces another
question was put, suddenly, briefly, but with an earnestness of manner
which showed what was his real purpose in following her to the library.
"You are not yourself; something is troubling you. Have you had bad
news?"
Hope fell back a pace and looked at him with startled eyes. Before his
earnest scrutiny ordinary denials became impossible; she could answer
nothing but the truth.
"Not bad news--no; but something troubles me a little. Please take no
notice; it will pass away."
"Is it nothing in which I can help?"
A faint smile flitted across Hope's charming face, and she shook her
golden head. "You are very kind, but--"
"If I can help at any time, in any way, will you give me the
opportunity? Will you believe that nothing could possibly give me so
much pleasure?"
He stepped towards her as he spoke; but even as he did so there came
from without the sound of Truda's voice, loud and insistent, approaching
nearer and nearer to the room. With a shiver of dismay, Hope realised
that in another moment the door might be thrown open and a _tete-a-tete_
discovered, which, however innocent in reality, would certainly have a
romantic appearance in the eyes of a beholder. She broke into a forced
laugh and turned aside to seat herself at the desk.
"Oh, thank you! You _have_ helped me already by your charming
suggestion about the children's entertainment. I have written to my
sister, and hope to find the story ready when I get home."
Even to her own ears the reply sounded curt and ungracious, an obvious
turning aside from the point at issue, and Ralph showed that he felt the
same by saying no more, and leaving the room as soon as he had written a
short note. It was painful to be obliged to appear ungracious, but
painful things have to be done occasionally, and Hope longed for the day
to arrive that would put an end to her suffering. Avice pleaded hard
for an extension of her stay, and could only be pacified by the promise
of a longer visit in spring, when the lodge rooms were to be furnished
and the new scheme inaugurated by which she was to play the part of
fairy godmother to less fortunate girls than herself. That was one good
thing that seemed likely to arise from this visit, and it was some
compensation to Hope to receive her cousin's affectionate embrace at
parting, and to hear her say, "Goodbye, sweet Hope. Don't forget me
among all your duties. We shall be in town again in a fortnight, and I
sha'n't be content unless you come at least once a week to see me. You
have done me lots of good. I'll try--I really will try--to think more
of other people."
That sent Hope away with a thankful heart, and with courage to go
through the farewells downstairs. Her new friends seemed sorry to say
good-bye, but it was not a sorrow that would imperil their peace of
mind. Truda had received a longed-for invitation to a country-house in
the neighbourhood, and was in the highest of spirits, and Mr Merrilies
was not present. Hope wondered if she were not to see him to say
good-bye, but when she stepped out of the carriage on to the platform of
the little station, a tall figure appeared within the threshold of the
waiting-room, and Ralph Merrilies himself stepped forward to meet her.
"I thought I would walk home this way and see you off. Are you alone!
Will you come in here beside the fire or walk up and down?"
Hope glanced at the clock, found she had still five minutes to wait, and
decided that it would be less embarrassing to move about than to remain
within the confines of that little room.
"I shall have to sit still for the next three hours, so I think I will
walk about, please, if you don't mind. I hope you will have good sport
this afternoon, and to-morrow at Benckley. Did Miss Bennett tell you
she had received her invitation for next week? She is quite excited
about it, for so many of Aunt Emma's guests seem to be going on there.
You are one of the number, aren't you?"
"I think not I left it indefinite, and I rather fancy I shall write to
say that I must go home. I thought of leaving The Shanty to-morrow or
Saturday." He was silent for a moment, his eyes on the ground; then he
said suddenly, "You will give me your address? I must have it for my
sister, who will want to write to you about the date of her party."
"Yes, of course. Thank you so much for remembering. I have not a card
in my purse, but our number is ten--Number 10 Whately Mansions."
"And may I--will you allow me to come to see you sometimes? I am often
in town, and it would give me so much pleasure!"
He did not look at her as he spoke, and Hope was thankful that he did
not see her flush of dismay. She had never anticipated such a request,
and was terrified by a suggestion that would make all her good
resolutions of no effect. During every hour of the last three days she
had congratulated herself that her time of probation was short, and that
with her return home would come back peace and contentment. What
prospect of recovery could there be, what chance of work well done, if
the expectation of Ralph's coming was ever before her as the one great
possibility of the day? And what would Truda say? The thought that she
might perhaps be endangering Truda's happiness nerved her to boldness of
speech.
"You are very kind, but we are business women, and our sitting-rooms are
our work-rooms also. I fear we must deny ourselves the pleasure of
visitors yet awhile."
She cost a hurried glance at the clock to see how many of the five
minutes still remained. Only one! The porter was carrying her box to
the farther end of the station, a group of rustics were strolling out of
the ticket-office, and Mr Merrilies was saying quietly:
"Art is long. You find, as do all her disciples, that she demands
undivided allegiance. I shall look forward to hearing the result of
your labours. Here is your train. You would like the small bag in the
carriage, wouldn't you?"
There was a note in his voice which gave Hope actual pain to hear, and
the remembrance of his set white face was not a pleasant one for her to
carry away on her journey.