Part 12 (2/2)
”No,” she replies faintly. ”But I shall be in, and _if_ you call----”
”'If'! there is no 'if' in the matter. I would come every day if you let me.”
”Every day!” Oh! how alluring it sounds.
She twists her wedding ring round and round, looking down on the carpet.
She remembers the pattern that night in her dreams, a red Maltese cross on a blue ground. The blue and red swim before her eyes now like the colours in a kaleidoscope. A solitary tear rises in her left eye and falls on the blotter.
”If only I might do as I like!” she murmurs.
”'Might' is a word you could blot from your vocabulary. Why not?”
”Oh! don't--don't--don't,” as he lays his hand on hers, and the touch thrills her with bewildering emotion.
”Where is Giddy? Oh! Giddy, take me home; it is nearly half-past five, and Philip will be back.”
Mrs. Mounteagle raises her eyebrows at Eleanor's agitated tones.
”You told me he would be late this evening.”
”Did I?” easing on her gloves.
Carol is standing behind with her cloak. His hands linger a moment as they fall on her shoulder, and he turns up the warm fur collar about her ears.
”My mite of a brougham only holds two,” says Giddy, ”and Bertie is coming with me, so I dare say Mr. Quinton will see you home in a hansom.”
The suggestion amazes Eleanor. Really Giddy has the most delightful ideas, and as to Philip's prejudices----well her thoughts on this subject are better not divulged.
One moment she is a panic-stricken girl, afraid as the very word ”flirtation”, the next, inconsistent, susceptible, a slave to Giddy's whims, easily led, easily beguiled.
She can hear her heart beating, as Carol helps her into the hansom. It is dark already, dark as the unknown future, while they whirl away in the gloom.
”It is cold,” says Eleanor.
He wraps her furs closer round her.
”_Cold?_” with a tender glance.
There is a volume in the word.
Philip in the meanwhile is having tea with his cousin, Erminie Henderson.
She is a thoroughly staunch woman, with the warmest of hearts, sociable, bright, reliable, always ready with a helping hand where help is needed, yet human enough to err occasionally. Philip has known her from a child, has seen her weaknesses and excellences. The former overrule the latter.
She is fond of him in a cousinly spirit, and delighted at his visit.
For some time they talk on ordinary subjects, till at last Erminie folds her arms, looks him searchingly up and down, and asks straight out:
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