CAMPBELL RESIGNS
Under a yew tree, overlooking a wide lawn, bordered on the farther side
by a bank of flowers, three people are sitting clustered around a
tea-table.
One of them is a little old lady, the dearest old lady imaginable. By
her side, in a low basket chair, a girl is half sitting, half reclining.
Her small figure, clad in a simple black frock, gives the impression of
extreme youth, which impression is heightened by the fact that her
curly, yellow hair, reaching barely to the nape of her neck, is caught
together by a black ribbon like a schoolgirl's. But when one looks more
closely into her pale face, one realises somehow that she is a woman and
a woman who has suffered--who still suffers.
On the ground facing the younger woman a red-headed young man in white
flannels is squatting tailor-fashion. He is holding out an empty cup to
be refilled.
"Not another!" exclaims the little old lady in a horrified tone. "Why,
you have had three already!"
"My dear Trevie, let me inform you once and for all that I have
abandoned my figure. Why should I persist in the struggle now that Anita
refuses to smile on me? When one's heart is broken, one had better make
the most of the few pleasures one can still enjoy. So another cup,
please."
Anita took no notice of his sally; her eyes were fixed on the distant
horizon; she seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.
"By the way," remarked Campbell casually as he sipped his tea, "I spent
last Sunday at Geralton." He watched Anita furtively. A faint flutter of
the eyelids was the only indication she gave of having heard him, yet
Guy was convinced that she was waiting breathlessly for him to continue.
"How is Lord Wilmersley?" asked Miss Trevor with kindly indifference.
"Very well indeed. He is doing a lot to the castle. You would hardly
know it--the interior, I mean." Although he had pointedly addressed
Anita, she made no comment. It was only after a long silence that she
finally spoke.
"And how is Valdriguez?" she inquired.
"Much the same. She plays all day long with the dolls Cyril bought for
her. She seems quite happy."
Again they relapsed into silence.
Miss Trevor took up her knitting, which had been lying in her lap, and
was soon busy avoiding the pitfalls a heel presents to the unwary.
"I think I will go for a walk," said Anita, rising slowly from her seat.
There was a hint of exasperation in her voice which escaped neither of
her hearers.
Miss Trevor peered anxiously over her spectacles at the retreating
figure.
Campbell's rubicund countenance had grown strangely grave.
"No better?" he asked as soon as Anita was out of earshot.
Miss Trevor shook her head disconsolately.
"Worse, I think. I can't imagine what can be the matter with her. She
seemed at one time to have recovered from her terrible experience. But
now, as you can see for yourself, she is absolutely wretched. She takes
no interest in anything. She hardly eats enough to keep a bird alive. If
she goes on like this much longer, she will fret herself into her grave.
Yet whenever I question her, she assures me that she is all right. I
really don't know what I ought to do."
"Has it never occurred to you that she may be wondering why Wilmersley
has never written to her, nor been to see her?"
"Lord Wilmersley? Why--no. She hardly ever mentions him."
"She never mentions him," corrected Guy. "She inquires after everybody
at Geralton except Cyril. Doesn't that strike you as very suspicious?"
"Oh, you don't mean that----"
He nodded.
"But she hardly knows him! You told me yourself that she had only seen
him three or four times."
"True, but you must remember that they met under very romantic
conditions. And Cyril is the sort of chap who would be likely to appeal
to a girl's imagination."
"Lady Wilmersley in love! I can't believe it!" exclaimed Miss Trevor.
"I wish I didn't," muttered Guy under his breath.
She heard him, however, and laid her small, wrinkled hand tenderly on
his shoulder.
"My poor boy, I guessed your trouble long ago."
"Don't pity me! It doesn't hurt any longer--not much at least. When one
realises a thing is quite hopeless, one somehow ends by adjusting
oneself to the inevitable. What I feel for her now is more worship than
love. I want above all things that she should be happy, and if Cyril can
make her so, I would gladly speed his wooing."
"Do you think he has any thought of her?"
"I am sure he loves her."
"Then why has he given no sign of life all these months?"
"I fancy he is waiting for the year of their mourning to elapse. But I
confess that I am surprised that he has been able to restrain his
impatience as long as this. Every day I have expected--"
"By Jove!" cried Campbell, springing to his feet, "there he is now!"
Miss Trevor turned and saw a tall figure emerge from the house.
Being plunged suddenly into the midst of romance, together with the
unexpected and dramatic arrival of the hero, was too much for the little
lady's composure. Her bag, her knitting, her glasses fell to the ground
unheeded as she rose hurriedly to receive Lord Wilmersley.
"So glad to see you! Let me give you a cup of tea, or would you prefer
some whiskey and soda?" She was so flustered that she hardly knew what
she was saying.
"Thanks, I won't take anything. Hello, Guy! You here? Rather fancied I
might run across you."
Cyril's eyes strayed anxiously hither and thither.
"Looking for Anita, are you?" asked Guy.
"I?" Cyril gave a start of guilty surprise. "Yes, I was wondering where
she was." His tone was excessively casual.
"Humph!" grunted Campbell contemptuously.
"She has gone for a little walk, but as she never leaves the grounds,
she can't be very far off," said Miss Trevor.
"Perhaps--" Cyril hesitated; he was painfully embarrassed.
Guy came to his rescue.
"Come along," he said. "I will show you where you are likely to find
her."
"Thanks! I did rather want to see her--ahem, on business!"
"On business? Oh, you old humbug!" jeered Campbell as he sauntered off.
For a moment Cyril glared at Guy's back indignantly; then mumbling an
apology to Miss Trevor, he hastened after him.
They had gone only a short distance before they espied a small,
black-robed figure coming towards them. Guy stopped short; he glanced at
Cyril, but the latter was no longer conscious of his presence. Without a
word he turned and hurriedly retraced his footsteps.
"Well, Trevie," he said, "I must be going. Can't loaf forever, worse
luck!" His manner was quite ostentatiously cheerful.
Miss Trevor, however, was not deceived by it. "You are a dear,
courageous boy," she murmured.
With a flourish of his hat that seemed to repudiate all sympathy, Guy
turned on his heel and marched gallantly away.
Meanwhile, in another part of the garden, a very different scene was
being enacted.
On catching sight of each other Cyril and Anita had both halted
simultaneously. Cyril's heart pounded so violently that he could hardly
hear himself think.
"I must be calm," he said to himself. "I must be calm! But how beautiful
she is! If I only had a little more time to collect my wits! I know I
shall make an ass of myself!"
As these thoughts went racing through his brain, he had been moving
almost automatically forward. Already he could distinguish the soft
curve of her parted lips and the colour of her dilated eyes.
A sudden panic seized him. He was conscious of a wild desire to fly from
her presence; but it was too late. He was face to face with her.
For a moment neither moved, but under the insistence of his gaze her
eyes slowly sank before his. Then, without a word, as one who merely
claims his own, he flung his arms around her and crushed her to his
heart.
THE END
_A Selection from the Catalogue of_ G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
The House Opposite
_A Mystery_ By ELIZABETH KENT
Author of "Who?"
"It is a very hotbed of mystery, and everything and everybody connected
with it arouses curiosity.... The plot is unusually puzzling and the
author has been successful in producing a really admirable work. The
climax is highly sensational and unexpected, ingeniously leading the
reader from one guess to another, and finally culminating in a
remarkable confession."--_N. Y. Journal._
Beyond the Law
By Miriam Alexander
_The Great Prize Novel Awarded Prize of $1,250.00_
_Endorsed by A. C. Benson, A. E. W. Mason, W. J. Locke_
"We have individually and unanimously given first place to the MSS.
entitled 'Beyond the Law.' It is a lively, unaffected, and interesting
story of good craftsmanship, showing imagination and insight, with both
vivid and dramatic qualities."
The scene is laid in Ireland and in France, the time is the William of
Orange period, and deals with the most cruel persecution against the
Catholics of Ireland.
The Way of an Eagle
By E. M. Dell
_Frontispiece in Color by John Cassel_
"_A born teller of stories. She certainly has the right stuff in
her._"--London Standard.
"In these days of overmuch involved plot and diction in the writing of
novels, a book like this brings a sense of refreshment, as much by the
virility and directness of its style as by the interest of the story it
tells.... The human interest of the book is absorbing. The descriptions
of life in India and England are delightful.... But it is the intense
humanity of the story--above all, that of its dominating character, Nick
Ratcliffe, that will win for it a swift appreciation."--_Boston
Transcript._
"Well written, wholesome, overflowing with sentiment, yet never mawkish.
Lovers of good adventure will enjoy its varied excitement, while the
frankly romantic will peruse its pages with joy."--_Chicago
Record-Herald._
Through the Postern Gate
A Romance in Seven Days. (Under the Mulberry Tree.)
_By_ Florence L. Barclay
Author of "The Rosary," "The Mistress of Shenstone," "The Following of
the Star."
"_A masterpiece._"--Phila. Ledger
"The well-known author of 'The Rosary' has not sought problems to solve
nor social conditions to arraign in her latest book, but has been
satisfied to tell a sweet and appealing love-story in a wholesome,
simple way.... There is nothing startling nor involved in the plot, and
yet there is just enough element of doubt in the story to stimulate
interest and curiosity. The book will warm the heart with its sweet and
straightforward story of life and love in a romantic setting."--_The
Literary Digest._
_Nearly One Million copies of Mrs. Barclay's popular stories have now
been printed._