Part 26 (1/2)
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 antic.i.p.ated.
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 s.h.i.+eld you.”
He gave a short, nervous laugh. ”Yes, it is very idiotic, I know, but----”
”And then to bolt away into the very thick of it! That was because you were _ashamed_! I shall tell _pet.i.te mere_ and Theo. But it was an awful storm, and so fearfully warm afterwards, wasn't it? I couldn't sleep at all--that's why I'm up so early. I came over to ask you to go up to Hampstead with me to get some real air. This London extract of air is a very poor subst.i.tute, isn't it? Now don't say no to a poor daughter whose young man is out of town!”
As she talked, looking casually at the pa.s.sers-by, she could, so tense were her nerves, almost hear him think. ”She is quite unsuspecting,” he was telling himself, ”there is no danger for her, and--it doesn't matter about _me_. And I am strong and need never betray myself----”
She talked on, the kind of unconcerned nonsense that was, her strange, new instinct told her, best calculated to quite his vibrant nerves.
”Little child, little child,” he returned mutely, ”how little you know!
Well--as you are so innocent, why should not I s.n.a.t.c.h this fearful joy while I may? It harms no one but myself, and such pain is better than any happiness on earth----”
”Yes, _ma fille_,” he said at length, as she pointed to a barrow of nodding daffodils, ”we will go to Hampstead; it is a good idea. But first I must send a wire or two. And--you must promise to return to me, unopened, the note you will find in Pont Street.”
Her wandering stare was admirable. ”Return unopened? But why? Was it--cross?”
He laughed aloud, his brilliant teeth flas.h.i.+ng. ”_Si, si_, that is it.
Cross! You know how stupid I was last night? The coming storm--well--it was a silly note, and you will return it.”
”Oh, of course, if you wish me to,” she answered carelessly, but clenching her hands. ”_C'est une boutade comme une autre!_”
He laughed again. His spirits were flying upwards like those of a criminal unexpectedly reprieved.
”Yes--just a fad. Hi, cab_bee_, stop here, will you?”
While he was in the telegraph-office Brigit allowed her muscles to relax and her face to express her hitherto rigidly concealed triumph.
He was not going. He would stay; she should continue to see him, and the world was full of joy. ”Heavens, how I can lie,” she whispered softly, ”and now we shall both have to lie. We both know about him; he thinks I don't know; and he doesn't know about me! It is a comedy. Oh, Victor, Victor, Victor!”
He came out a moment later, seeming to fill the world with his giant bulk and his astounding radiation of joy. Two narrow-chested city clerks stood still to stare at him, their pallid little faces blank with amazement. A red-nosed flower-girl thrust a great bunch of yellow roses up at him with certainty of sale written all over her. ”Roses? Of course. How much?”
He laughed aloud as he gave her some money and then got into the hansom.
”Hampstead Heath, cabby. At Falaise there are millions of these roses--see, with the outside leaves wrinkled and red. Oh, Brigit, Brigit, what a day!”