“But what if I fail in my purposes here?
It is but to keep the nerves at a strain
To dry one’s eyes and laugh at a fall,
And baffled get up and begin again,
So the chase takes up one’s life, that’s all.”
ROBERT BROWNING.
Daphne felt almost a passion of relief as she caught sight of her face
in a mirror. The world had just turned upside down, but, thank God, she
was still beautiful! She stood in the babble of the gilded room, and
watched the swarm of well-dressed men and women around her. She had, at
that moment, a strange, psychological experience; even as she watched
them, the noise of the room ceased, and instead of the figures and
colours of the brilliant gathering, she saw the long stretch of the ward
at night. The faces in shadow of the sick, pain-stricken men, some of
them sleeping restlessly, and some with wide eyes watching the hours as
they passed. She seemed to feel the heat of the long night, and to see
again at dawn the bustle of returning life and day. She was on night
duty at present which explained her presence at the ball. Once a month
the night nurses had a day and a night off which they generally spent in
sleep, but to Daphne the old life formed a greater recreation.
The tiny jewelled watch she wore told her it was three o’clock, so many
of them die at three o’clock! The band was playing one of those
half-divine, and passionately human waltzes that seem to strike on all
the chords of love and pain. Daphne drew a deep breath and the vision of
the ward faded. When she looked before her again, something seemed to
have past away from the glow and beauty of the brilliant scene. The
women appeared a little tawdry, and the flowers drooped, under the flare
of the electric light.
“Do you know what anything real means?” Daphne asked herself. Vera came
up to her on the arm of a fine, soldierly-looking man, whom she
introduced to her as Colonel Dalgeny. He began at once to speak to her
about Katherine; he took her down to supper, and she found that she
liked him very much.
“My wife wants to talk to you,” he said; “but you look very tired, will
you wait here till I bring her to you?” He placed her in a curtained
alcove by an open window, a portière marked it off from the rest of the
hall. Daphne assented thankfully, and leaning back closed her eyes and
waited.
“David,” said a voice close to her, “do you know you have not spoken to
me for a hundred years?”
“I haven’t wanted to, Lady Cheston.”
“Ah, poor boy—poor boy,” said Lady Cheston. “Have you felt so badly
about it as that?” There was a silence and Daphne felt subtly conscious
that David could be made not to mean what he had said. She could not see
them, but she almost felt the summoning power of Lady Cheston’s large
grey eyes. Reggie’s eyes were like them, only they did not say the same
things.
“But she did quite right, you know,” Lady Cheston went on; “she never in
the least understood you, and you behaved very badly, my poor boy.”
“Well—she didn’t care for me,” said David miserably.
“No, she didn’t care for you,” repeated Lady Cheston.
“No one does,” he muttered sulkily. “I might as well go to the devil.”
There was a long, breathless pause, a pause in which the blood runs
riot, and pulses tell tales. That something passed between the two,
Daphne felt sure, she thought that Lady Cheston had put out her hand.
“Oh, no! no! David, that’s not true!” she said at last, “somebody
cares.” Daphne rose to her feet and, with a quick movement, gained the
hall. Behind her she heard a startled exclamation, and a low laugh. The
angry colour rushed into her face, the Colonel returned opportunely with
Mrs. Dalgeny on his arm.
“My dear child,” she said, softly catching hold of Daphne’s hands, “tell
me about my girl?”
Daphne could hardly believe it was Mrs. Linton who stood before her, she
was dressed so beautifully, and she looked so happy. Then, looking at
the Colonel, she understood, the tragedy was still there, but now it was
in his face. She withdrew her hands from Mrs. Linton and told her
briefly about Katherine. “She signed on yesterday for two years, and I
go up to-morrow,” she said.
“Are you going to sign on?” the Colonel asked her. Daphne hesitated.
“No,” she said, “I am not.”
“Perhaps Miss Fordington is going to sign a different _kind_ of
contract?” suggested Mrs. Dalgeny in her cooing voice. Daphne threw back
her head.
“I am not going to be married, if that is what you mean,” she said
shortly. Mrs. Dalgeny smiled sweetly.
“That is what young girls always say until they are asked,” said Mrs.
Dalgeny; she was not very fond of Daphne.
“Or until they have answered,” said the girl with ready assurance. They
parted still smiling, and the Colonel suppressed a chuckle.
It was four o’clock and Daphne stood at a little table in the
supper-room drinking lemonade. Looking up, she met Arthur Field’s eyes,
he was standing at the opposite side of the room. She turned to the man
who was with her, and asked him to fetch her an ice, then she looked
back at Arthur Field. A moment later he reached her side, and for awhile
they were silent.
“Which is your wife?” Daphne asked finally, glancing over the little
supper-tables.
“She is with Sir Henry Middleton,” said Arthur. Daphne’s eyes found her.
“I did not know she was so pretty,” she murmured, and Arthur fancied her
lips quivered. He wanted immensely to know how much she minded, and if
she thought he had done right.
Then he saw that by Rosamonde’s side was a glass of champagne. She was
talking and smiling to her companion, but her hand went out towards the
glass. Arthur crossed the room, and stood by them.
“Is this your handkerchief, Rosamonde?” he asked, holding out a dainty
lace trifle in his hand. Rosamonde looked up startled, and Arthur Field
stupidly overturned her glass. He apologized profusely and went to fetch
her another, he brought it back more carefully this time. It was filled
with lemonade. When he looked back at Daphne her partner had rejoined
her. “I think it is time for us to go, Rosamonde,” he said to his wife.
“Where did you find the handkerchief, Arthur?” Rosamonde asked angrily
as they drove back.
“In your room,” said her husband; “I brought it with me in case you
might want another one.” Rosamonde bit her lips, and they drove home in
silence.