Brigit was not at all surprised when, early the next morning, a note
from Joyselle was brought to her.
She had slept very badly, for she seemed to have reached a crisis in her
relations with Joyselle; and lying awake in the heat that the storm had
but increased, she passed hours in unprofitable forecastings. What would
he do, now that he knew? Would he make love to her? Or would he try to
hurry on the wedding? Or----
Of course, what he did do proved an utter surprise to her.
"My dear Brigit," he wrote, "just a line to say good-bye to you
for a time. I am accepting an offer to do two months' touring in the
United States (which country I do not like, but which likes me), and
shall come back laden with dollars with which to buy you a beautiful
wedding present. What shall it be--diamonds? I hope you will say
lace--yards and yards of exquisite lace of all kinds--it is so much more
poetic than stones. So _au revoir_, my dear, and may all happiness be
yours.
"Joyselle."
She sat up in bed and drew a long, uneven breath. She had not counted
on the possibility of flight! And she could not bear it.
There had been some talk of his going to America, but he had disliked
the idea, and she had not dreamed that he would even seriously consider
it. There was not the slightest doubt that his decision was entirely due
to the little scene of the evening before. That moment when his nervous
horror of the lightning had impelled him to put his arms round her had,
she knew, opened his eyes to his own danger. And it was characteristic
of the man to act immediately and without hesitation. He would go--it
was Saturday, and very probably he would leave by the noon train for
Liverpool. It was now eight.
She lay for a long time with her eyes shut, trying to realise what life
would be like without him. And then her undisciplined, wayward mind
revolted. It was unbearable; therefore she would not bear it. She would
not let him go.
Half an hour later she was in a hansom, trying to decide the details
relative to her decision. He should not go, but which of the several
possible ways should she employ to prevent it?
Before she could decide on anything more than the great fact that, cost
what it may, she would not let him go, the hansom drew up at the house,
and she was about to get out when the front door opened and Joyselle
himself appeared.
"You!" he cried, impetuously, and then stood still. "You got my note?"
he added a second later, sternly.
Her heart sank. He was very strong. Then he came towards her, his brows
drawn down over his eyes, his nostrils dilated, and she lied.
"No--what note?"
Normans are quick to suspect deceit, and for a moment his expression did
not change; then, for individually the man was as trustful as racially
he was suspicious, he smiled. "I see. But why are you out so early? It
is not yet nine."
"And you?" she returned deftly, her heart beating not only with the
excitement of the duel, but with enjoyment of her own skill.
"I--well, I have business."
"Then get in and I'll take you wherever you want to go, I want to talk
to you."
He hesitated, but she smiled at him and he succumbed, thinking to
himself, she could see, that after all she knew nothing of what was
going on in his mind.
As he took his place beside her the cabman opened his trap-door and
asked with the hoarseness of his kind:
"W'ere to, sir?"
Joyselle frowned. "To--Piccadilly. I'll tell you when we get to where I
wish to stop."
Brigit suppressed a smile. Now he was thinking, she saw, that he would
tell her of his intended departure before he gave the Cunard Company's
address.
He was pale, but to her surprise looked younger rather than older than
usual. His mental disturbance had left traces on his face, and they
were, as it was, young in their nature. He had fallen in love, and the
youth in him, both physical and mental, flared up responsively to the
call of the emotion.
Suddenly she saw her line of action clearly marked out for her, and
without an instant's hesitation took it. If he suspected that she loved
him, nothing in the world could keep him by her. So he must not know. In
all her dreams and reflections about their relations, she had never
taken into account the possibility of things turning out as they had.
She had always tacitly taken for granted that it would be by her will
that the man should be waked up to the real state of his own mind. Even
after the evening of the dragon-skin frock he had not known the real
explanation of his amazement on her entrance, and had, she knew, merely
advanced in his perilous path to the point of realising that she was,
although his future daughter, an amazingly desirable woman.
So far she had read him correctly. But that something outside her own
personal sway should open his eyes she had not anticipated.
This had, however, happened, and with the acute intuition of a woman
fighting for her life, she understood what she must do to prevent his
flight.
So, turning towards him, she smiled amusedly.
"_Eh, b'en_, Beau-papa? Got over your fright? You big baby!"
He stared, and she went on without a pause, but speaking slowly, to give
an idea of leisure, "To think that you of all people should be afraid of
_thunder_! It was lucky you had your valorous daughter to shield you."