Part 18 (1/2)

But her husband talked her objections down and overruled them.

”Hallam can afford to do it,” he insisted. ”Why shouldn't he? We can't give them a champagne breakfast anyhow.”

Besides the Bainbridges there was only one other guest, in the person of the best man, who was called Watkin, and whose acquaintance with the bridegroom seemed of the slightest. The absence of any relation or intimate friend of Hallam was a further aggravation to Rose. She looked at everything through dark-coloured gla.s.ses that day: no one else did: even John, whose respect for Hallam had decreased with the latter's deliberate committal of matrimony, allowed that there was considerable enjoyment to be got out of other people's weddings; the lunch at the ”Grand” in particular appealed to him.

Hallam bore himself well through the ordeal. Whatever his feelings were in regard to his wife's relations he managed on the whole to conceal them fairly well. Although he did not like Jim Bainbridge, and did not understand Rose in the remotest degree--he thought her disagreeable and commonplace and as unlike her sister as it was possible for a person intimately related to another to be--it pleased him to entertain them, and to note that they did full justice to his hospitality.

Jim drank champagne, to which he was unaccustomed, and became surprisingly talkative and rather noisy; and Rose, responding to the same genial influence, relaxed, and forgot for a time her apprehensions.

They made quite a merry party at their flower-decked table by the window, which opened on to the stoep and looked out upon the well-kept garden beyond. It was so near the finish of that part of Esme's life that Hallam was content to see her happily surrounded with her people, and to do his share in making himself agreeable; but he longed to be through with it and started on the journey to Cape Town, where he proposed staying for a week before embarking for England. When the talk was at its noisiest he felt Esme's hand reaching out under the table and touching his knee; his own hand went down and closed over it warmly while their eyes met in an understanding smile. She felt grateful to him for the effort she knew he was making for her sake to play his part well.

”Weddings,” Jim remarked in a reminiscent vein, ”always recall to my mind the day I took the plunge. Odd sensation, getting married-- uncertain business--rather like backing an outsider in a race. You hope you've drawn a prize; but it's all a chance whether you have or not.

It's tying a knot with your lips which you can't untie with your teeth.

A man gets let in for this sort of thing. He can't help himself. He gets a sort of brain fever, and there it is--done.”

His wife directed a meaning glance towards his gla.s.s and smiled dryly.

Hallam took up the challenge.

”I think it is sometimes the woman who backs an outsider,” he said.

”But a light hand on the rein brings many a doubtful mount past the winning post.”

”You've got the fever all right,” Jim returned. ”I know all about that.

I had it in its most acute form.”

”Never mind that old complaint,” Rose said soothingly. ”You are quite cured now.”

”That's all you know about it,” he replied almost aggressively. ”That fever is recurrent. Every married man who has ever experienced it knows that the germ once there lies latent for all time. You hear of married people drifting apart... Well, they do, you know--often; but generally they drift back again--or want to. It's usage. You get fed up--like you get fed up with saying your prayers every night.”--Young John p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and became interested in the talk.--”You leave 'em off. Well, some time or other you come back to them. You want to come back to them. Prayer and love--they're pretty much about on a par.”

John's interest waned. He helped himself to fruit and disregarded the company.

”You are getting somewhat beyond my depths,” the best man remarked.

”These things haven't come my way.”

”They will,” Jim ventured to predict.

The best man looked at the bride and laughed.

”I hope so,” he answered gallantly; and introduced, with the ease of the man of the world, a lighter note into the talk.

The entire party drove down to the jetty to see Hallam and his bride embark. When she stood on the steps and watched her sister seated beside Hallam in the bobbing launch, smiling and radiantly happy, Rose's former misgivings rea.s.serted themselves and remained with her while she looked after the crowded launch steering its course towards the mail boat, which lay far out amid the s.h.i.+ps on the sunlit blue of the sea.

Hallam turned to the girl, when they were well away from the sh.o.r.e, with a look of glad relief, and saw her eyes, happy and loving and trustful, lifted to his in sympathetic understanding. He smiled down at her.

”It's good to get off, to be alone together,” he said. ”The thought of this moment has kept me going. I believed we should never be through with it all.”

”I know,” she said with a little laugh. ”But it's over. We are together, Paul... for all our lives.”

”For all our lives,” he repeated; and, oblivious of the crowd about them, pressed closer against her on the narrow seat.

Book 3--CHAPTER TWENTY.