Elsbeth's voice, raised tactfully at the further end of the passage,
warned them of her approach.
Said Alwynne over her shoulder--
"Anyhow, you must stay to lunch now, Elsbeth would be furious if you
went. She'll say I've driven you away or something. Unless you want to
get me into another row?"
She spoke ungraciously enough, for she disliked having to ask a favour
of him at such a juncture; but she disliked even more the notion of a
_tête-à-tête_ lunch with Elsbeth. Elsbeth, by right of aunthood, would
ask questions, demand confession.... Elsbeth, she knew instinctively,
would be on Roger's side.... She told herself that she did not mind
being bullied by Roger, because, after all, it was Roger's affair; but
she would not be otherwise interfered with.... Elsbeth had a way of
putting you in the wrong.... She would rather not talk with Elsbeth
until she had seen Clare.... Clare would fortify her.... If only Roger
would keep Elsbeth occupied till she got away to Clare....
"You must stay, you know," she repeated uneasily.
"You made me forget about lunch," he said cheerfully. "Of course I must!
You know, you're a terror, Alwynne. I never know which makes me
hungrier, a football match or an argument with you. I'm ravenous."
Alwynne was speechless.
"Is no one coming in to lunch?" asked Elsbeth, entering. She looked
quickly from one to the other. Alwynne was at the glass, tidying her
hair, and Roger seemed cheerful. Elsbeth smiled a significant smile:
her eyebrows were question-marks.
Roger shook his head, but not before Elsbeth had caught sight of the
scattered rose and disarranged vases. She was instantly engaged in
restoring order, and missed the movement.
Suddenly she exclaimed, and pounced on a small object lying on the
floor, half hidden in petals.
"Oh! Oh, how lovely! What an exquisite ring! Why, Roger--why,
Alwynne--look! I might have trodden on it. How careless of you both."
But she beamed on them with immense satisfaction, as she held out the
emerald ring.
"It's not mine," said Alwynne icily.
"Nothing to do with me," Roger assured her.
Elsbeth looked bewildered.
"One of you must have dropped it," she began.
"No!" said Alwynne.
"Oh, no!" said Roger.
But there was a glimmer of fun in his eye, that enlightened Elsbeth, or
she thought, at least, that it did.
"In my young days," she remarked severely, "young people didn't leave a
valuable engagement ring lying about on the floor."
"A disengaged engagement ring," he corrected her sadly. "At least, it's
disengaged at present."
"I think, Elsbeth," said Alwynne firmly, "that the lunch must be getting
cold." And preceded them in all dignity to the dining-room.
Alwynne found the meal a trying one. Roger was talkative, and Elsbeth,
though obviously puzzled, was too much occupied with him, to be critical
of her niece. Alwynne was divided between gratitude to Roger for
relieving the situation, and pique that he could be equal to so doing. A
man in his position should be far too crushed by disappointment for
social amenities. She would have been genuinely distressed, yet
undeniably gratified, if his appetite had failed him; but she noticed
that he was able to eat a hearty meal. He could laugh, too, with
Elsbeth, and make ridiculous jokes, and draw Alwynne, silent and
unwilling, into the conversation. He seemed to have no objection to
catching her eye, though she found it difficult to meet his. He was a
queer man.... She supposed he wasn't very much in love with her, really,
that was the truth of it.... She found the idea depressing. She wondered
if he were really going back to Dene at once, and was relieved to hear
her aunt challenging his decision. Elsbeth was expostulating. She had
plans for the next day ... there was a concert that evening.... Roger
appeared to waver. Alwynne, contemptuous that he could be so easily
turned, annoyed that Elsbeth should sway him where she herself had
failed, was yet conscious of a feeling of relief. At least she should
see him again, if only to quarrel with him.... She was due to supper
with Clare as well as tea, though she had not told Elsbeth so.... It
would be quite simple--she would run round to Clare at once, and spend a
long afternoon, and get back for another peep at Roger in the
evening.... Clare wouldn't mind....
She hesitated. Clare would be rather surprised if she didn't stay....
She had never been known to curtail a visit to Clare before.... But she
would explain things to her.... Clare would be as sorry for Roger as she
herself ... for, of course, she must tell Clare all about it.... She
hoped Clare would not say she had been flirting.... But she must make
her at least understand what a dear Roger was.... She should like Clare
to appreciate Roger ... she was afraid she would never be able to make
Roger appreciate Clare.... It was a great pity!... If it had not been
for Roger's unlucky prejudice, she might have introduced them to each
other, and it would have all been so jolly.... She would have loved to
show Clare to Roger, if Clare had been in a good mood, and had worn her
new peacock-coloured frock and had looked and been as adorable as she
sometimes could be. They might have gone to-day--and now Roger had
spoiled everything.... But at least he was not going till to-morrow....
She would slip away at once while he and Elsbeth were talking--she would
be back all the sooner....
She left the pair at their coffee, and hurried to her room to put on her
new coat and skirt and her prettiest hat. It was Clare's birthday ...
and Clare liked her to be fine.... She wondered, with a little skip of
excitement, if Clare had got her parcel yet?
She was no sooner gone than Roger turned to Elsbeth, his laughing manner
dropped from him like a mask.
"It's all off, Elsbeth," he said. "You were right. It's that woman.
She's infatuated."
The pleasure died out of Elsbeth's face.
"I was afraid so," she said. "I saw something had happened. But you were
so comical, I couldn't be sure."
"I didn't want an explanation just then----"
"Of course not," she interpolated hastily.
"But I think I'll go straight back to Dene. Have you a time-table?"
"Have you quarrelled badly?"
"Not exactly! Alwynne's rather annoyed with me, though."
"Annoyed? With you?"
"Well, you see," he explained, with a touch of amusement, "I think she
rather wants to retain me as a tame cat----"
"Oh, but Alwynne's not like that," Elsbeth protested.
"Don't you think every woman is, if she gets the chance? She has to
kow-tow to the Hartill woman, and it would be a relief to have some one
to do the same to her--as well as an amusement. But she's had to
understand that I won't be her friend's whipping-boy. I decline the
post."
"Oh,--well, if you put it that way--but it's hardly fair to Alwynne. Of
course, you're angry and disappointed----"
"I'm not!" he protested heatedly.
"Oh, but you are. Don't pretend you're not human. I don't blame you; I'm
angry too. But you must be fair. Alwynne's motives are obvious enough.
There's no cat-and-mouse business about it. She simply can't bear the
idea of losing you."
"Yet she won't marry me."
"She would, if it weren't for Clare. Didn't you get that impression?
Roger, if you really care, wait here a little longer. Stay with us. Let
her have a chance of contrasting you with Clare Hartill."
"No, I won't," he said obstinately.
"You care more for your own dignity than for Alwynne, I think," said
Elsbeth, in her lowest voice.
"Cousin Elsbeth, I care more for Alwynne than for anything else in the
world. You know that. Also, though you'll call me a conceited ass, I
believe I know your ewe-lamb ten thousand times better than you do. And
I've simply got to sit tight for a bit. The less she sees of me at
present, the more she'll think of me--in two senses. If I can make her
miss me, it'll be a profitable exile. Oh, you dear, worried woman," he
cried, laughing at her intent face, "do you think I want to go away from
Alwynne? Nevertheless--where's the time-table?"
She rose and fetched it, and gave it him, without a word.
He ran his finger down the page.
"There's a four o'clock," he announced.
"If only I could do something," mused Elsbeth.
He smiled at her gratefully.
"You're a pretty staunch friend," he said. "What more can one ask?"
"Oh, but I ought to think of something," she said impatiently. "I sit
here and let you go--I see two people's lives being spoiled--for the
want of a----"
"What?"
"That's it! What? What can I do? Nothing, nothing, nothing. Oh, Roger,
it's hard. It's very hard to see people you love unhappy, and not to be
able to help them. It's the hardest thing I know. It would be such
happiness to be allowed to bear things for them. But to watch.... It's
harder for us than for men, you know--we're such born meddlers. We think
it's our mission to put things to rights."
"When we've made a mess of 'em. I'm not sure that it isn't!"
"I've got to do something," she went on, without heeding him. "There
you'll be at Dene, miserable--you will be miserable, Roger?" she
interrupted herself, with a faint twinkle.
"Don't you worry," he reassured her. "It was bad enough when she left.
She's managed to make every nook and corner of the place remind one of
her. I don't know how she does it. Oh, it will be rotten, all right."
"Then there will be Alwynne here," she continued, "pretending she
doesn't care. Working herself into a fever each time Clare is unkind to
her--and pretending she doesn't care. Watching the posts for a letter
from you--I know her--and pretending she doesn't care. Thoroughly
miserable, and quite satisfied that I see nothing, as long as she laughs
and jokes at meals. Oh, life's a comedy," cried Elsbeth. "You young folk
have your troubles, and think we are too old and blind to see them; and
we old folk have our troubles, and know you are too young and blind to
see them. Yes, Roger--I'm having a grumble, and it's doing me good. One
suffers vicariously as one gets older, but one suffers just the same.
You children forget that."
"Do we?" he said gently. "I won't again--we won't, later on,
Elsbeth--Alwynne and I."
"I want you two to be happy," she cried piteously. "I want it so. Oh,
Roger, what can I do?"
"Nothing," he said.
She was silenced. But he was touched and a little amused to see how
entirely she was unconvinced. He admired her persistence, and wondered
if she had fought as vehemently for her own happiness, as she now fought
for Alwynne's. Failure was instinct in her, in her faded colouring and
eager, unassured manner. He thought it probable that the memory of
failure was spurring her now.
He roused her gently.
"Elsbeth! It's past three o'clock. Will you come and see me off? I must
go back to the White Horse for my bag first. Shall I call for you? I
shan't be more than twenty minutes."
She nodded assent and promised to be ready.
Left to herself, she went to her room and dressed with mechanical care.
Her mind tossed the while like an oarless boat in the sea of her
restless thoughts.
What could she do? Wait--wait and hope, and watch things go wrong....
Roger was in love now, and prepared to be patient; but Roger was only a
man.... He would get over it in time; and Alwynne, finally released from
Clare's influence--that, too, surely, was only a question of time--would
find out what she had lost.... She understood Alwynne well enough to
know that if she cared, however unconsciously, for Roger, she would
never be content to attach herself to any later comer.... Alwynne was
terribly tenacious. So she, too, would waste and spoil her life; and for
the sake of an infatuation, a piece of girlish quixotry.... It was
criminal of Clare Hartill to allow it.... She supposed that the
situation amused Clare; at least, if Alwynne's version had allowed her
to guess it.... She wondered exactly how much Alwynne would tell
Clare....
Suddenly and wonderfully she was illumined by an idea.
Roger, returning punctually with his bag, found Elsbeth awaiting him on
the step, in calling costume, pulling and patting at a new pair of
gloves with extraordinary energy. Her cheeks were bright; she had the
air of frightened bravery of a cornered sheep.
"Come away quickly, Roger," she whispered, with a glance at the windows.
"I don't want Alwynne to catch me. I can't come with you to the station,
Roger. I'm going to see Clare Hartill."