_ PART IV CHAPTER I. THE REFUGEE
Autumn on a Yorkshire moor.
Hilda Davenant leaned back and looked from her sketch to the moor with slight dissatisfaction in her calm eyes.
"What's the matter with it?" said Lord Percy.
He was lying in the faded heather beside her, sucking grass-stems with bovine enjoyment. He surveyed the faint pucker on his wife's forehead with lazy amusement.
She looked down at him. "It isn't nearly good enough."
He laughed comfortably. "Put it away! It'll do for my birthday. I shan't look at it from an artist's point of view."
She smiled a little. "Oh, any daub would do for you. You simply don't know what art is."
"Exactly," he rejoined tranquilly. "Any daub will do, provided your hand lays on the colours. But nothing less than that would satisfy me. Come! Isn't that a pretty speech? And you didn't angle for it either!" He caught her hand and rubbed it against his cheek. "You are civilizing me wonderfully," he declared. "I never knew how to make pretty speeches before I met you."
"Surely I never taught you that!" she protested. "I am never guilty of empty compliments myself."
"Nor I," smiled her husband. "I say what I think to you always. Now what do you say to coming for a stretch? There's an hour left before I need buzz down to the station and meet Jack. You will admit I have been very good and patient all this time. Pack up your painting things, and I'll trek back to the house with them."
"No. We will go together," Hilda said. "Why not?"
"I thought you would prefer to sit and admire the landscape," he said.
She smiled and made no response.
"A case in point!" laughed Lord Percy. "But here the compliment would not have been empty since you obviously prefer my company to the solitude of a Yorkshire moor."
She looked at him with the smile still in her eyes, but she did not put the compliment into words. Only, as she rose to leave the scene of her labours, she slipped her hand within his arm.
"I have been thinking a great deal of Chris lately," she said. "I wish she would write to me again."
"I thought your mother was there," said Lord Percy.
"She has been. I believe she left them yesterday. But then, she does not give me any detailed news of Chris. I have a feeling that I can't get rid of that the child is unhappy."
"She has no right to be," rejoined her husband. "She's married about the best fellow going."
"Who understands her about as thoroughly as you understand art."
"Oh, come!" he remonstrated. "Mordaunt is not quite such a fool as that! The little monkey ought to be happy enough--unless she tries to play fast and loose with him. Then, I grant you, there would be the devil to pay."
Hilda smiled. "I can't help feeling anxious about her. It has always been my fear that, when the glamour of first love is past, Trevor might misjudge her. She is so gay and bright that many people think her empty. I know my mother does for one."
"Your mother might," he conceded. "Trevor wouldn't--being a man of considerable insight. Tell you what, though, if you want to satisfy yourself on the score of Chris's happiness, we will get them to put us up for a night when we leave here for town three weeks hence. How will that suit you?"
"I should love it, of course," she said. "But wouldn't it be rather far out of our way?"
"I daresay the car won't mind," said Lord Percy.
They walked back to the house that a friend had lent for their three-months' honeymoon. It nestled in a hollow amongst trees, the long line of moors stretching above it. They were well out of the beaten track. Few tourists penetrated to their paradise. Near the house was a glade with a miniature waterfall that filled the place with music.
"That waterfall makes for laziness," Lord Percy was wont to declare, and many were the happy hours they had spent beside it.
They passed it by without lingering to-day, however, for both were feeling energetic. Briskly they crossed the little lawn before the house, and entered by a French window.
"Better secure some refreshments before we go on the tramp," suggested Lord Percy. "I've got a thirst already. Hullo! What on earth--"
He broke off in amazement. A slight figure had risen up suddenly from a settee in a dark corner; and a woman's face, wild-eyed and tragic, confronted them.
"Great Scott! Who is it?" said Lord Percy Davenant.
And "Chris!" exclaimed Hilda, at the same moment.
As for Chris, she stood a second, staring at them; then: "Trevor has turned me out, so I've come to you," she said her white lips moving stiffly. "I've nowhere else to go."
With the words she stumbled forward, feeling vaguely out before her as though she saw not. Hilda started towards her on the instant, caught her, folded warm arms about her, held her fast.
"My darling!" she said, and again, "My darling!"
But Chris heard not, nor saw, nor felt. She had reached the end of her strength, and black darkness had closed down upon her agony, blotting out all things. She sank senseless in her cousin's embrace....
It was long before they brought her back, so long that Hilda became frightened and dispatched her husband in the motor for a doctor, wholly forgetting her brother's expected visit in her anxiety.
Lord Percy ultimately returned with the local practitioner, whom he had dragged almost by force from the bedside of a patient ten miles away. He, too, had forgotten Jack, but remembered him as he set down the doctor, and whirled away again in a cloud of dust, leaving him to announce himself.
Chris had by that time recovered consciousness, in response to Hilda's strenuous efforts, but she had scarcely spoken a word. She lay on the sofa in the drawing-room, cold from head to foot, and shivering spasmodically at intervals. She drank the wine that Hilda brought her with shuddering docility; but it seemed to have no effect upon her. It was as if the blood had frozen at her very heart.
"Get her to bed," were the doctor's orders, and he himself carried Chris up to Hilda's room.
She was perfectly passive in their hands, but quite incapable of the smallest effort, and so painfully apathetic that Hilda grew more and more uneasy. She had never imagined that her gay, light-hearted Chris could be thus. It wrung her heart to see her. She was like a dainty flower crushed into the dust of the highway.
"Nervous prostration consequent upon severe mental strain," was the doctor's verdict later. "You will have to take great care of her, and keep her absolutely quiet, or I can't be answerable for the consequences. She is in a very critical state, and"--he paused a moment--"I think her husband ought to be with her."
"Ah!" Hilda said, and no more.
He passed the matter over. "Don't let her talk at all if you can prevent it, and reassure her in every way possible. I will send a composing draught, or she will be in a high fever before the morning."
"You fear for the brain?" Hilda hazarded.
"I fear--many things," he answered uncompromisingly.
He took his departure just as Lord Percy and his guest arrived, and Hilda paused upon the step to greet her brother.
He sprang from the car before it came to a standstill, and she saw on the instant that he was in a towering fury. Jack Forest, the kindly, the easy-going, the careless, was actually white with anger.
He scarcely stopped to greet her. "Where is Chris?" he demanded.
"She is in bed," Hilda answered, seeing he had heard the whole story. "No," as he turned inwards, "you can't see her. Indeed you mustn't, Jack. The doctor says--"
"Damn the doctor!" said Jack. "I'm going to see her, in bed or not. Where is she?"
He was half-way upstairs with the words, and Hilda's protest fell upon empty air. She could only follow and look on.
Jack opened the first door he came to, and found himself in Chris's presence. He strode straight across the room, as one who had a perfect right, stooped over her as she lay, and gathered her up into his arms.
"My little sweetheart!" he said, and kissed her fiercely over and over again.
That woke her from her lethargy, as no more tender ministrations could have done. She wound her arms about his neck, and clung to him like a lost child.
"Oh, Jack!" she said. "Oh, Jack!" and burst into an agony of tears.
Hilda closed the door softly, and went away. Jack's treatment seemed the best, after all.
When she saw him again he was quite calm, but there was about him a grimness of purpose with which she was not familiar. He drew her aside.
"Look here! I can't sleep on this. I'm going to see Trevor--at once. If I don't bring him to reason, I shall probably shoot him; but I haven't told her that. All she wants is to be left in peace, and peace she shall have, whatever the cost."
"But, my dear boy, quarrelling with Trevor on her behalf won't make for peace," Hilda ventured to point out.
He acknowledged the truth of this with a brief nod. "All the same, I'm damned if I'll stand by and see him wreck her life. Let me know how she goes on. Send a wire to the club to-morrow. No, don't! I'll wire to you first, and let you know where I am. I'm going straight back to the station now. With any luck I ought to catch the afternoon express. Where's Percy?"
"You must have something to eat," urged Hilda. "You've had nothing whatever."
He frowned impatiently. "Oh, rats! I can feed on board. I shan't starve."
But she knew, with sure intuition, that the moment he was out of her presence all thought of refreshment would leave his mind.
She saw him go, and then returned to Chris.
She found her sitting up in bed, rocking herself to and fro, and crying, crying, crying, the tears of utter despair. But this distress, despite its violence, was better--Hilda knew it instinctively--than her former cold inertia. She gathered her to her breast, and held her close pressed till her anguish had somewhat spent itself.
By degrees and haltingly the story of Chris's tragedy was unfolded.
"I've told Jack everything," she said at last. "And now I've told you, but we won't ever talk about it any more. Jack is going to see Trevor, and--and try to make him understand. I didn't want him to, but he would do it. But he has promised me that Trevor shan't follow me here. Do you think he will be able to prevent him? Do you? Do you?"
She shuddered afresh uncontrollably at the bare thought, and Hilda had some difficulty in calming her.
"Dearest, I am sure he will never come to you against your will," she said, with conviction. "I am sure you needn't be afraid. But oh, Chris, my darling, he is your husband. Always remember that!"
"I know! I know!" Feverishly Chris made answer, and Hilda knew that she must not pursue this subject. "But I can never see him again, never--never--never! I think it would kill me. Besides--besides--" She broke off inarticulately, and Hilda did not press her to finish.
She found that she must not speak much of Bertrand either, though she did venture to ask why the Valpre escapade had ever been kept from Trevor in the first place.
"I really can't quite explain," Chris answered wearily. "When it dawned on me that vile things had been said and actually a duel fought because of it I felt as if I would rather die than let him know. Besides, at the back of my mind, I think I somehow always knew--though I did not realize--that--Bertie--came first with me, and I--I was terrified lest Trevor should suspect it. Of course it doesn't matter now," she ended. "He knows it all, and--as he says--we have done with each other." She uttered a long, quivering sigh, and turned her face into the pillow.
"My darling, so long as you both live, that can never be," Hilda said very earnestly. "Whatever mistakes you have made, you are still his and he is yours. Nothing can alter that."
"He doesn't think so," said Chris. "In fact, he--he told me to go to Bertie, so that--so that"--she shivered again--"he could set me free."
"Oh, Chris, he did--that?"
"Yes, I think he meant it for my sake as much as for his own. But I couldn't do it. You see, I don't know where Bertie has gone for one thing. And then--I know Bertie would have thought it wrong. You see"--the tears were running down her face again--"we love each other so much, and--and love like ours is holy. He said so."
"I wonder how he learned that," Hilda said. "It is not a creed that most men hold."
"But Bertie is not like most men." Very softly came Chris's answer, and through her tears her eyes shone with the light that is kindled by nothing earthly. "Bertie has come through a great deal of suffering," she said. "It has taught him to know the good from the bad. And--he said I shouldn't be ruined for his sake. As if I cared for that!" she ended, smiling wanly.
"Thank God he did for you!" Hilda said.
"Oh, do you think it matters?" said Chris. _