Cynthia wrote to beg that Betty would soon come down to see her, and
bring her old pupil to be reintroduced to his mentor, but time passed
by, and one day after another was vetoed by Miles himself. Betty was
nonplussed. It seemed as if he did not want to go. Yet she could
hardly believe that such could be the case, when she recalled to memory
the tone of his voice, the look on his face when, for the first and last
time since his return, Miles had voluntarily mentioned Cynthia's name.
"It is quite an easy journey. We can get there in less than two hours
by an express train, stay for lunch and tea, and get home again in time
for dinner. I've been down twice this spring, and it is quite easily
managed," she protested; but Miles would do nothing but grunt, and
refuse a definite answer. To spend three or four hours in Franton, a
large proportion of which would be taken up in eating meals, and talking
to other people--this was not his idea of a first visit to Cynthia after
six years of absence. He continued to grunt and make objections for the
next few weeks, and then one night at dinner he announced airily--
"I've taken rooms at the Grand at Franton for a week from Friday. I
thought, as we were going down in any case, we might as well do the
thing comfortably, and have a breath of sea-air. Awfully stuffy in town
this last week! They say the Grand is the best hotel, and we shall be
fairly comfortable there. Four bedrooms, and a private sitting-room for
you, mater, in case you want to be quiet. Gerard's coming along; and
you'll come too--over Sunday, at least--I hope, father?"
"Over Sunday, certainly. I can manage that very well; and perhaps
Horton can take on my work for a few days. There are no very serious
cases on at present, and a rest would be very delightful!" said the
tired doctor with a sigh. His wife brightened instantly at the thought
of his pleasure, while Betty and Jill flushed with excitement.
Rooms at the Grand! The best hotel, where perchance they might be
"comfortable"! They had never before stayed in an hotel; lodgings, and
cheap lodgings into the bargain, had been their portion on the occasion
of their rare holiday-makings. The grandeur of the prospect drove out
every other thought, and, to his own immense relief, Miles escaped
embarrassing comments on his sadden change of front.
"I hope we shan't have meals in the private room," Jill said anxiously.
"The great fun of staying in an hotel is to see the people, and--er--"
"Be seen by the people?"
"Exactly! Especially the latter. Don't ask me to do a single thing
before Friday, for I shan't have a second to spare. I'm off remnant-
hunting this morning, and shall be glued to the sewing-machine for the
rest of the time. Two new blouses at least I _must_ have, if I am to
pose before the public eye--"
"Oh, bother remnants! We'll go to Regent Street this morning, and buy
half a dozen blouses between you. I am not going to take you to an
hotel in remnants!" cried Miles with masculine scorn.
Since his return from abroad the eldest son of the family displayed a
disregard of money which seemed next door to criminal in the eyes of his
careful relations. Why worry to make up a blouse for three-and-sixpence
when you can buy a better one for three guineas? That was his present
attitude of mind; and when the girls hesitated,--fascinated yet
fearful,--the reply was always the same--
"I've slaved hard enough all these years! This is my holiday. I've
come home to enjoy myself, and see you enjoy yourselves, and I'm not
going to worry my head about shillings. For pity's sake take what you
can get, and don't fuss!"
It is the attitude of all men who come back to civilisation after a long
absence, and in Miles' case it could truthfully be said that his
extravagances benefited other people infinitely more than himself.
It was a very merry party which travelled down to Franton a few days
later, and the comfort and grandeur of the hotel exceeded even the
girls' expectation. All the bedrooms secured were situated on the
front, and were provided with dear little balconies, on which they could
sit and gaze over the sea. The drawing-room was a gorgeous apartment--
all yellow satin and white archways, and banks of flowers. The dining-
hall was dotted over with little tables, a larger one in a bay-window
being reserved for the Trevor party. The lounge was provided with
innumerable couches and wicker chairs, in which one could loll at ease,
scrutinising the other visitors, or submitting to scrutiny on one's own
account, with a delightful consciousness of a Regent Street blouse. The
gardens and shrubberies would have been quite irresistible, had it not
been that just beyond their bounds stretched the firm golden sands, on
which the white-crested waves broke with a siren sound.
"Go to bed without a walk on the shore by moonlight--I can't and
_won't_, not if ten fathers, and fifty thousand mothers went down on
their knees and implored me to be prudent!" asserted audacious Jill, as
she finished her after-dinner coffee; whereupon Dr Trevor laughed good-
naturedly, and said--
"There's only one father present, and the only knees he possesses are
much too stiff to exert themselves in a hopeless cause! Run along, my
dear; I should have felt the same at your age. Put on a shawl. Miles,
you will see that your sisters don't run wild, and that they come in by
a sensible hour."
So the four young people wandered along the sands, and watched the
moonlight play upon the waters; but there was no need of the last part
of the doctor's warning, for even Jill grew quiet and subdued, and
forgot to tease and banter. Coming fresh from the noisy, crowded city,
there was something inexpressibly impressive in the long stretch of
sand, the dark, mysterious waters, the loneliness, the silence, broken
only by the rhythmic break of the waves.
Miles walked alone, his face lifted now and again to the top of the
cliff on which stood the villa which the Alliots had hired for the
summer months. Betty looked across the waste of waters, and felt a pang
of compunction. How long was it since she had last thought of her
friend across the sea? Fainter and more faint had his image been
growing, until from forming a constant background to her thoughts, it
had become a positive effort to remember. She turned aside from Will
Gerard's whispered words, and passed her hand through her brother's arm.
To be beside Miles was in itself an incentive to loyalty.
Next morning at eleven o'clock, Betty and Miles started to walk up to
the Alliots' villa, leaving Jill and Will Gerard seated on the shore
throwing pebbles into the sea, with every appearance of satisfaction
with themselves, and their occupation. The path was steep but not very
long, and at the entrance to the garden Mrs Alliot was strolling about,
as if awaiting their arrival. She kissed Betty and patted her
affectionately on the shoulder.
"Cynthia is waiting for you. Run along to her, dear! I will follow
with your brother, and hear some of his news," she said in a light tone
which yet held a hint of command, and, when Betty disappeared, she
turned in an opposite direction, so as to take the least direct path to
the house.
"I am sure your mother is delighted to have you back! It is delightful
that you have been so successful in your work. We have been so
interested in your adventures."
The short conventional sentences were the only references made to Miles'
own affairs, and then, as if in a hurry to get to the subject most on
her mind, Mrs Alliot began to speak of her daughter.
"You will be surprised to find Cynthia looking so well. She has put on
flesh during the last few months, and the sea-air has given her a
colour. Last winter she was painfully thin. It has been a long uphill
struggle, but now at last we begin to see definite improvement. The
doctors are confident that it will be a complete cure if we are very
careful during the next two or three years. The great thing is to live
in pure bracing air, and to keep her happy and cheerful. Anything that
caused agitation or worry of any kind, would have a deleterious effect.
She has a very sensitive nature, and things go deeply with her,--more
deeply than with most girls. Her father and I hide all worries from
her, even our anxiety about herself. We, and all the friends who love
her, must unite in doing everything in our power to spare her during
these all-important years. I know you will understand the position."
"Yes," said Miles quietly, "I perfectly understand."
He had grown very white beneath his tan, and Mrs Alliot, glancing
swiftly at him, felt a pang of compunction. Poor young fellow, it was
hard on him, if he really cared! Yet she had done no more than her duty
in warning him that he could not be allowed to disturb Cynthia's peace
of mind. So far, the girl was fancy free, but her interest in the
return of her boy-friend was so strong that a word, a look, a hint of
his own feeling might be sufficient to fan it into a stronger flame.
"But now that I have spoken he knows how things are, and he is a good
fellow! He will think of her before himself," said Cynthia's mother to
herself with a sigh of relief.
For the rest of the way to the house Mrs Alliot talked on impersonal
subjects, and Miles answered with colourless politeness; then, at last,
across a wide green lawn, a sun shelter came into view, in which Betty
could be discerned, and someone else in a white dress lying on a couch
banked up with blue cushions.
"There are the girls! Don't wait for me! Go across the lawn," said
Mrs Alliot kindly.
When one has dealt the one great blow, it is easy enough to make
trifling concessions, reflected Miles bitterly, as he strode forward;
but the next moment all bitterness died away as he grasped a thin white
hand, and looked down into a face which was at once strange, and
exquisitely familiar. Cynthia, but Cynthia as a woman, no longer a
schoolgirl; Cynthia with her golden mane wound smoothly round her head,
with blue shadows under the sweet eyes, and hollows where the dimples
used to dip in the rounded cheeks. At the first glance the air of
delicacy was painfully pronounced, but as she smiled and flushed, the
old merry Cynthia looked at him once more.
"Miles! Is it really you? I can hardly believe it! Such a great, big
man! Oh, but I'm glad! I'm glad to see you again! Sit down, sit down.
Let me see you properly. I mayn't get up from this horrid couch. Yes,
it's you! I'd know your eyes anywhere, and the moustache is nice--a
very fine moustache, Miles! I'm glad the beard is off. I like your
square chin. It is lovely to have you all here, and to know you have
not to run away in a few hours. I'm looking forward immensely to the
next week. Old Miles! It _is_ good to see you!"
She laughed and coughed, and lent back against the cushions, pushing
them into place with an impatient hand; while Miles stared at her in an
intent silence which printed every detail so deeply in his memory that
no passage of time could wear them away. The loose ends of hair which
escaped from the coils and curled on her white neck, the long
transparent hands against the blue cushions, the slight figure in the
white dress--how often that vision arose before him in the years to
come!
As of old, Cynthia's friendliness showed no hint of embarrassment, and
she chatted away as easily as if the separation had lasted for weeks
instead of years. Betty had tactfully rejoined Mrs Alliot, and for the
next half-hour Miles was allowed an uninterrupted _tete-a-tete_.
"Tell me all about everything!" cried Cynthia, just as years before she
had demanded an account of Miles' engineering studies; and when he
protested, "Oh, it's quite easy," she maintained, "Tell me the history
of a day. You wake in the morning, and get up, and then--what next? Go
through the whole programme until it is time to go to bed again."
Then Miles spoke, and she listened eagerly, the flush dying out of her
cheeks and a wistful expression deepening in her eyes.
"It's just as I said long ago," she sighed plaintively when he had
finished; "you have gone out into the world and done things, and I have
stayed at home and done--_nothing_! Oh, Miles, it was hard being taken
ill just then! Father had come home, and we were looking forward to
travelling about, and having a good time together, and being so happy.
I had finished classes, and was old enough to come out, and I meant to
be such a good daughter, and to take care of the parents for a change,
after being taken care of all my life. I was going to my first ball--my
dress was in the house--when I caught influenza, and since then"--she
threw out her arms with an expressive gesture--"it's been this sort of
thing all the time! Lying still--eating--sleeping--being waited on hand
and foot; an anxiety instead of a help; a care instead of a joy--oh, and
I _did_ want to be a joy!" She paused a moment to press her lips
together, and to give her head an impatient shake. "I mustn't be silly!
Father and mother don't guess that I feel like this, and it isn't
always so bad. Some days I feel quite bright and happy, especially
lately, since I've been getting better, but seeing you brought back the
dear old days, and oh, I _want_ to be well again, and run about with you
on the sands. I shan't be able to go about with you at all."
"I will come and sit with you as often as I may--as long as I may," said
Miles huskily whereupon Cynthia smiled on him again.
"How nice of you! Ah yes, you must come. I'll keep quite quiet for the
rest of the day, and then I can talk while you are here. There's so
much I want to tell, and to hear!"
She coughed again, and brushed her hair from her brow, evidently
fatigued by her own emotion. The dainty finish and grace of her
appearance, which had been the greatest charm in Miles' eyes long ago,
was accentuated by her illness into a fragility which made her seem more
like a spirit than a flesh-and-blood woman to his unaccustomed eyes.
His thoughts raced back for a moment to the scene of his Mexican home,
and he realised the folly of the dream which had for so long made the
half-conscious background of his thoughts. Even if she were willing,
even if she loved him, as he loved and would always love her, it would
be a madman who could dream of transplanting this fragile flower to
those rude surroundings. Cynthia was not for him! Their lives, for the
present at least, lay far apart. As for the future, that was in God's
hands; it would be selfish and cowardly to try to ensure it for himself.
Miles' heart was wrung with the agony of renunciation, but his set face
showed no signs of his suffering. He cheered Cynthia with renewed
promises of daily visits, chatted with her of old friends and old times,
and had the reward of hearing her laugh with the old merry ring. When
he took her hand in farewell, she looked at him with frank eyes, and
said sweetly--
"I'm sorry I grumbled--it was wrong of me when I'm so well off. I do
try to be good, but I was always impatient--you used to laugh when I
said so, but it was true. This illness may be just what I need--`They
also serve, who only stand and wait'--I think so often of that line, and
try to wait in patience, but it is hard--the hardest thing in the world,
sometimes!"
"Yes," said Miles quietly, "the very hardest?"