_ PART IV CHAPTER VII. THE MESSENGER
"Roses!" said Chris. "How nice!"
She held the white blossoms that Jack had sent her against her face, and smiled.
It was a very pathetic smile, a wan ghost of gaiety, possessing more of bravery than mirth. She lay on a couch by the window, looking out under the sun-blinds at the dusty green of the park. Though October had begun, the summer was not yet over, and the heat was considerable. It seemed oppressive after the fresh air of the moors, and Hilda watched her cousin's languor with some anxiety. For her face had scarcely more colour than the flowers she held.
"Is the paper here?" asked Chris.
She also was closely following the progress of the Valpre trial. Though she never discussed it, Hilda was aware that it was the only thing in life in which she took any interest just then.
She gave her the paper containing the last account that Mordaunt had written, and for nearly an hour Chris was absorbed in it. At last, with a sigh, she laid it down, and drew the roses to her again.
"It's very dear of Jack to send them. Hilda, don't you want to go out? You mustn't stay in always for me."
"I want you to come out too, dear," Hilda said.
"I? Oh, please, dear, I'd rather not." Chris spoke quickly, almost beseechingly. She laid a very thin hand upon Hilda's. "You don't mind?" she said persuasively.
Hilda took the little hand and stroked it. "Chris darling," she said, "do you know what is the matter with you?"
The quick blood rushed up over the pale face, spread to the temples, and then faded utterly away. "Yes," whispered Chris.
Hilda leaned down, and very tenderly kissed her. "I felt sure you did. And that's why you will make an effort to get strong, isn't it, dear? It isn't as if it were just for your own sake any more. You will try, my own Chris?"
But Chris turned her face away with quivering lips. "I think--and I hope--that I shall die," she said.
"Chris, my darling--"
"Yes," Chris insisted. "If it shocks you I can't help it. I don't want to live, and I don't want my child to live, either. Life is too hard. If--if I had had any choice in the matter, I would never have been born. And so if I die before the baby comes, it is the best thing that could possibly happen for either of us. And I think--I think"--she hesitated momentarily before a name she had not uttered for weeks--"Trevor would say the same."
"My dear child, I am quite sure he wouldn't!" Hilda spoke with most unaccustomed vigour. "I am quite sure that if he knew of this, he would be with you to-day."
"Oh no, indeed!" Chris said. She spoke quite quietly, with absolute conviction. "You don't know him, Hilda. You only judge him from outside. If he knew--well, yes, he might possibly think it his duty to be near me. But not because he cared. You see--he doesn't. His love is quite dead. And"--she began to shiver--"I don't like dead things; they frighten me. So you won't let anyone tell him; promise me!"
"But, my dear, he would love the child--his child," urged Hilda softly.
"Oh, that would be worse!" Chris turned sharply from her. "If he loved the child--and--and--hated the mother!"
"Chris! Chris! You are torturing yourself with morbid ideas! Such a thing would be impossible."
"Not with him," said Chris, shuddering. "He is not like Percy, you know. You think him gentle and kind, but he is quite different, really. He is as hard--and as cold--as iron. Ah, here is Noel!" She broke off with obvious relief. "Come in, dear old boy. I've been wondering where you were."
Noel came in. He usually haunted Chris's room during the day. The Davenants had done their utmost to persuade him to go to school, but Noel had taken the conduct of his affairs into his own hands, and firmly refused.
"I shan't go while Chris is ill," he declared flatly. "We'll see what she's like at the mid-term."
Jack's authority was invoked in vain, for Jack was on the youngster's side.
"I've squared him," said Noel, with satisfaction. "Of course, I'm sorry to be a burden to you, Hilda, but I'll pay up when I come of age."
Which promise invariably silenced Hilda's protests, and made Lord Percy chuckle.
Aunt Philippa was still absent upon her autumn round of visits, a circumstance for which Noel was openly and devoutly thankful. Not that her influence was by any means paramount with him, but her presence might of itself have been sufficient to drive him away. The only person who could really manage him was his brother-in-law, but as he had apparently forgotten Noel's very existence, it seemed unlikely that his authority would be brought to bear upon him. Meanwhile, Noel swaggered in and out of his sister's presence, penniless but content, and Chris plainly liked to have him.
On the present occasion he interrupted their conversation without apology, pushed Chris's feet to one side, and seated himself on the end of the sofa.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" he said to Hilda.
"Yes, I do," said Hilda.
"All right, then. You'd better go." He pulled a clay pipe out of his pocket, and an envelope that contained tobacco. "I know Chris doesn't mind," he said, with a twinkling glance in her direction. "Also, my cousin, someone wants you in the next room."
"Who is it?" said Hilda.
"Don't ask me," said Noel.
She hesitated momentarily. "Well, I suppose I must go. But mind, Noel, you are not to smoke in here."
"Say please!" said Noel imperturbably.
"Please!" said Hilda obediently.
He rose and accompanied her to the door. "Madam, your wishes shall be respected."
He opened the door with a flourish, bowed her out, closed it, and softly turned the key.
Then he wheeled round to his sister with gleaming eyes. "That's done the trick, I bet. Trevor has just turned up with Jack. But you needn't be afraid. I shan't let him in."
"What!" said Chris.
She started up, uttering the word like a cry.
Noel left the door swiftly, and came to her. "It's all right, old girl. Don't you worry yourself. We'll hold the fort, never fear. He shan't come in here, unless you say the word."
Chris's hands clutched him with feverish strength. Her face was deathly. "Oh, Noel!" she breathed. "Oh, Noel!"
He hugged her reassuringly. "It's all right, I tell you. Don't get in a blue funk for nothing. He's not coming in here to bully you."
But Chris only clung faster to him, not breathing. The sudden shock had sent all the blood to her heart. She felt choked and powerless.
"There! Lie down again," said Noel. "I'm here. I'll take care of you. I knew he would turn up again; it's what I've been waiting for. But I swear he shan't come near you against your will. That's enough, isn't it? You know you are safe with me."
She could not answer him, but she crouched back upon the sofa in response to his persuasion. She was shaking from head to foot.
Noel sat solidly down beside her. "Don't be frightened," he said. "We're going to have some fun."
"What--what can he have come for?" whispered Chris.
"Goodness knows! But he isn't going to get it, anyway. Good old Hilda! She went like a bird, didn't she? I call this rather amusing."
Noel began to whistle under his breath, obviously enjoying the situation to the utmost.
But Chris restrained him. "I want to listen," she murmured piteously.
He became silent at once, and several seconds crawled away, accompanied by no sound save the interminable buzzing of a fly on the window-pane.
Noel arose at length and with a single swoop of the hand captured and killed it. Then he went back to Chris.
"I say, don't look so scared! No one is going to hurt you."
The words were hardly uttered before Hilda's light step sounded outside, and her hand tried the door.
Chris started violently, and cowered among her cushions. Noel chuckled softly.
"Chris dear, what is the matter? Let me in!" Anxiety and persuasion were mingled in Hilda's voice.
Noel's chuckle became audible. "She isn't going to. She doesn't want anyone but me. Do you, Chris?"
Chris made no reply. She was staring at the door with starting eyes.
Noel went leisurely across and set his back against it. His eyes still gleamed roguishly, but his mouth had ceased to smile.
"I say, Hilda," he said, over his shoulder, "if you want to do Chris a good turn, tell that beastly cad behind you to go. I shan't let him in, anyhow, not if he stays till doomsday. So he may as well clear out at once."
"My dear Noel, how can you be so absurd?" Hilda's placid tones held real annoyance for once.
But the cause of it was quite unimpressed.
"Your dear Noel is acting up to his lights," he returned, "and he has no intention of doing anything else, absurd or otherwise. Chris is nearly scared out of her wits, so you had better take my advice sharp."
This last information took instant effect upon Hilda. She turned her attention to Chris forthwith.
"My dear, do let me in! There is nothing whatever to frighten you. I promise you shall not be frightened. Chris, tell that absurd boy to open the door--please, dearest!"
"I--can't!" gasped Chris.
"She isn't going to," said Noel. "You run along, Hilda. And you can tell Trevor with my love that if he'll clear out now I'll meet him at any time and place he likes to mention and have a damned old row."
"Very good of you!" Another voice spoke on the other side of the door, and Noel jumped in spite of himself. "But at the present moment you don't count. Is Chris there? I want to speak to her."
The leisurely tones came, measured and distinct, through the closed door, and Chris covered her face and shivered. "Oh, you'll have to let him in!" she said. "Only--don't go away! Don't leave me alone with him!"
"Chris!" Mordaunt's voice, calm and unhurried, addressed her directly. "Jack is here with me. Will you let us in?"
Chris lifted a haggard face. "Open the door, Noel!" she said.
"Why?" demanded Noel, with sudden ferocity. "We are not going to knock under to him. Why should we?"
"It's no use," she said. "We can't help it. Besides--besides--" She broke off with something like a sob, and rose from the sofa.
Noel looked at her under drawn brows. "You really mean it?"
"Yes." She pushed the hair from her forehead, and made a great effort to still her agitation. "I do mean it, Noel. I--wish it."
"All right." The boy whizzed round and turned the key.
He met Mordaunt face to face on the threshold with clenched hands, his face dark with passion. "If you hurt her--I'll kill you!" he said.
Had Mordaunt laughed at him, he would probably have attempted to carry out his threat then and there, for his mood was tempestuous. But the quiet eyes that met his blazing ones held no derision. They went beyond him instantly, seeking the girlish figure that leaned against the sofa-head for support; but a hand grasped his shoulder at the same moment and turned him back into the room.
"I shan't quarrel with you on that account," Mordaunt said. "You can stay if you like, and satisfy yourself."
Jack entered behind him, and went straight to Chris. He took her quivering hands into his, and held them fast.
"That boy deserves to be horsewhipped for startling you like this," he said.
She smiled at him wanly, but not as if she heard his words. "You will stay with me, Jack?" she said beseechingly.
"If you wish it, dear. But Trevor wants to say something rather private. Really, you have nothing to be afraid of."
His kindly eyes looked down reassuringly into hers. They seemed to reason with her, to persuade and soothe at the same time.
But Chris's hands clung to his. "Don't--don't go!" she said. "I want you--I want you, Jack."
"Suppose we sit down," said Jack practically. "Trevor, I wish you'd kick that boy downstairs. It would do him good and me too. This isn't a family conclave."
"Noel can stay," Mordaunt answered quietly. He was still looking towards his wife, but he did not seem to be regarding her very intently. "You are mistaken in thinking that I have anything to say to Chris in private. I have only come to tell her what I have already told you, that Bertrand is at Valpre, ill and wanting her. I will take her to him--if she will come."
"Trevor!" She turned to him with eyes of sudden horror--horror so definite that it swamped all her personal shrinking. "How is he ill? You--you have hurt him!"
"I have done nothing to him," Mordaunt answered. "He is suffering from heart-disease, and cannot be moved. I must start from Charing Cross in an hour. Will you come with me?"
"To go to him?" Her eyes were still dilated, but they did not waver from his.
"To go to him." He repeated the words with precision, and waited for her answer.
But Chris sat in silence, her hands in Jack's.
"Look here," Noel broke in abruptly, "if Chris goes, I go."
"Very well," Mordaunt said. "If Chris desires it, you may."
Chris came out of her silence with a little shudder, and turned to the man beside her. "Jack, tell me what to do!"
"I think you had better go, dear," Jack said.
"But if--but if--oh, is he very ill?" She looked again at her husband.
"He is very ill indeed," Mordaunt said.
"You think I ought to go?" She asked the question with an obvious effort.
"I have come to fetch you," he said.
"Then--he is dying!" she said, with sudden conviction.
Mordaunt was silent.
Abruptly she left Jack and went up to him. "Trevor," she said, "would you want to take me to him if--if--"
"If--?" he repeated quietly.
"If you thought I was doing wrong to go?"
He made a slight movement, as if the question were unexpected. "I should have explained to you," he said, "that your brother Max is in charge of him, so that when I am not with you--and, as you know, I am attending the Rodolphe trial--you will not be alone."
"Oh, Max is there!" she said, with relief. "But what is he doing at Valpre?"
"He went there with Bertrand."
"But I thought Bertrand could not go to France," she hazarded.
"He went in disguise."
"Why?" Her lips trembled upon the word.
"Because he had something to say to me." With the utmost calmness his answer came.
"Ah!" She started and turned so white that he put out a hand to steady her.
She laid her own within it, as it were instinctively, because she needed support.
"What was it?" she whispered.
He looked at her gravely. "Are you afraid to be alone with me?" he said.
"No."
"Then--quick march!" said Jack, with his hand through Noel's arm.
They went out together, Noel glancing back for the smallest sign from his sister to remain.
But she made none. She stood quite still, with her hand in her husband's, waiting.
As the door closed Mordaunt spoke. "Have you been ill?"
"No," she said faintly. "Not--not really ill."
She was aware of his close scrutiny for a moment, but she made not the slightest attempt to meet it.
"You want to know what Bertrand said to me," he said. "And you have a right to know. He told me the whole history of your friendship from the beginning to the end."
"He told you about--about Valpre?" Her eyelids quivered, as if she wished to raise them but dared not.
"Yes."
"Then you know--" Her hand fluttered in his.
"I know everything," he said.
Her white face quivered piteously. "And you--you are still angry?"
"No, I am not angry." He led her back to the sofa. "Sit down a minute," he said. "I don't think you are quite fit for this, and if you are going back with me to Valpre, you will need to reserve your strength."
He sat down beside her, both her hands firmly clasped in his, as if thereby he would impart to her the strength she lacked.
"You mean me to go, then?" murmured Chris.
"Don't you want to go?" he asked.
"If he really wants me--" she faltered. "And if you--you wish it, too."
"My dear," he said, "do my wishes make any real difference?"
She caught her breath sharply, and bent her head that he might not see her face. "Yes," she whispered, under her breath.
"Very well," he said, "I wish it, too."
She was silent, but suddenly her tears began to fall upon the strong hands that held hers. She would have given anything to have repressed them at that moment. With her whole soul she shrank from showing him her weakness, but it overpowered her. She bowed her head lower still, and wept.
He sat quite motionless for seconds, so that even in the depth of her distress she marvelled at his patience. But at last, very gently, he moved, let her hands go, and rose.
He stood awhile turned from her, his face to the window, though the sun-blind was all that could have met his view; finally, with grave kindness, he spoke.
"I think I had better leave you to prepare for the journey. There is not much time at your disposal, and you will probably need it all. It is settled that Noel is to go with us?"
"You won't mind?" she whispered.
"I think it a very good plan," he answered.
He turned round and came back to her. She had commanded herself to a certain extent, but still she could not raise her face. She waited tensely as he approached, possessed by a sudden, almost delirious longing to feel the touch of his lips.
Her desire surged into leaping hope as he stopped beside her. Would he--could he? But he did not stoop. He only laid his hand for a moment upon her head.
"Chris," he said, "try to think of me as a friend--and don't be afraid."
She thrilled at the low-spoken words. In another moment she would have conquered all hesitation and sprung up to feel his arms about her, to hide her face against him, to open to him all her quivering heart. But for that moment he did not wait.
With the utterance of the words his hand fell, and he moved away.
The opening and the closing of the door told her he had gone. _