She will never marry me unless I give my word of honour that the thing
will only be an empty ceremony--of that I feel sure even if
circumstances aid me to force her into doing this much. And then one has
to keep one's word of honour. And might not that be a greater hell than
I am now in of suffering?
Perhaps I had better go to the sea--like Suzette--and try to break the
whole chain and forget her--.
I rang the bell for Burton then, and told him of my new plan, as he put
me to bed. We would go off to St. Malo,--for a week, and I gave orders
that he should make the necessary arrangements to get permits. To travel
anywhere now is no end of a difficulty.
I wrote to Alathea without weakening--I asked her to collect the Mss.
and make notes of what she thought still should be altered--during my
absence--I wrote as stiffly, and in as business like a manner as
possible--and finally I went to sleep, and slept better than I have done
for some time.
* * * * *
_St. Malo:_
How quaint these places are! I am at this deserted corner by the
sea--where the hotel is comfortable, and hardly touched by the war--I am
not happy--the air is doing me good, that is all--I have brought
books--I am not trying to write--I just read and endeavor to sleep--and
the hours pass. I tell myself continually that I am no more interested
in Alathea--that I am going to get well, and go back to England--that I
have emerged, and am a man with a free will once more--and I am a great
deal better--.
After all, how absurd to be thinking of a woman, from morning to night!
When I get my new leg, and everything is all healed, up in a year or
two, shall I be able to ride again?--Of course I shall, no doubt, and
even play a little tennis?--I can shoot anyway--if we will be allowed to
preserve partridges and pheasants when the war is over in England.
Yes, of course life is a gorgeous thing--I like the fierce wind to blow
in my face--and yesterday, much to Burton's displeasure, I went out
sailing--.
How could I be such a fool, he inferred--as to chance a wrench putting
me back some months again--But one has to chance things occasionally. I
never enjoyed a sail more because of this very knowledge.
* * * * *
A week has passed since we came to this end of the earth--and again I
have grown restless--perhaps it is because Burton came in just now with
a letter in his hand--. I recognized immediately Alathea's writing.
"I made so bold as to leave the young lady our address before we left,
Sir Nicholas, in case she wanted to communicate with us, and she writes
now to say, would I be good enough to ask you if you took with you
Chapter Seven, because she cannot find it anywhere."
Then he went on with evident constraint to tell me that the rest of the
letter said that while she was working on Friday a "Mademoiselle la
Blonde" called, and insisted upon passing Pierre who answered the
door--and coming in to her--("It was Mam'zelle of course, Sir Nicholas!"
Burton snapped!) And that she had demanded my address--but Miss Sharp
had not felt she was justified in giving it to her--but had said letters
would be forwarded--.
"I hope to goodness that the baggage made no scene with the young lady,
Sir Nicholas," Burton growled--"Of course she don't say in the
letter--but it's more than likely--I would not have her insulted for the
world."
"Nor I either," I retorted angrily--"Suzette ought to know better now
that I have given her everything she wanted--Will you let her understand
please that this must not occur again--."
"I'll see that the lawyer does it, Sir--that is the only way to deal
with them persons--though Mam'zelle was the best of her sort. Seems to
me Sir Nicholas, they are more bother than they are worth. I said it
always, even when I was younger--They leave their trail of trouble where
ever they go."
How I agreed with him!
So here was a fresh barrier arisen between Alathea and myself!--a fresh
barrier which I cannot explain away. The only comfort I get out of the
whole thing is that imperative necessity must have been driving my
little darling--or she would not put up with any of these things for a
moment, and would have given her _demission_ at the same time as she
wrote.
If money is so necessary to her--perhaps after all I could get her
consent to marry me--The very thought made my pulses bound again--and
all my calm flew to the winds! All the sage reasoning which was
beginning to have an effect upon me evaporated!--I knew that once more I
was as utterly under the spell of her attraction, as the moment when my
passionate lips touched her soft reluctant ones--Ah! that thought! that
memory--One I have never let myself indulge in--but now, all resistance
broken on every side,--I spent the rest of the day dreaming about the
joy of that kiss--until by night time I was as mad as a hatter, and more
full of cruel unrest than ever--.
I hate this place--I hate the sea--It is all of no use--I shall go back
to Paris.