Part 52 (1/2)
”Yes.... It happened accidentally.” And she told him about the old gentleman who had come to her rooms when she stood absolutely penniless and at bay before the world.
After she had ended he asked her whether she had ever again seen his father. She told him. She told him also about seeing his mother.
”Have they anything to say to me, Athalie?” he asked wistfully.
”I don't know, Clive. Some day--when you feel like it--if you will come to me--”
”Thank you, dear ... you are wonderful--wonderfully good--”
”Oh, Clive, I'm not! I'm careless, pleasure-loving, inclined to laziness--and even to dissipation--”
”You!”
”Within certain limits,” she added demurely. ”I dance a lot: I know I smoke too much and drink too much champagne. I'm no angel, Clive. I won altogether too much at auction last night; ask Jim Allys. And really, if I didn't have a mind and feel a desire to cultivate it, I'd be the limit I suppose.” She laughed and tossed her chin; and the pure loveliness of her child-like throat was suddenly and exquisitely revealed.
”I'm too intelligent to go wrong I suppose,” she said. ”I adore cultivating my mental faculties even more than I like to misbehave.”
She added a trifle shyly. ”I speak French and Italian and German very nicely. And I sing a little and play acceptably. Please compliment me, Clive.”
But her quick smile died out as she looked into his eyes--eyes haunted by the vision of all that he had denied his manhood and this girl's young womanhood--all that he had lost, irretrievably and forever on that day he married another woman.
”What is the matter, Clive?” she asked with sweet concern.
He answered: ”Nothing, I guess ... except--you are very--wonderful--to me.”
CHAPTER XX
A May afternoon was drawing to a close; the last appointment had been made for the morrow, and the last client for the day still lingered with Athalie where she sat with her head propped thoughtfully on one slim hand, her gaze concentrated on the depths of the crystal sphere.
After a long silence she said: ”You need not be anxious. Her wireless apparatus is out of order. They are repairing it.... It was a bad storm.”
”Is there any ice near her?”
After a pause: ”I can see none.”
”Any s.h.i.+ps?”
”One of her own line, hull down. They have been exchanging signals....
There seems to be no necessity for her to stand by. The worst is over.... Yes, the _Empress of Borneo_ proceeds. The _Empress of Formosa_ will be reported this evening. You need not be anxious: she'll dock on Monday.”
”Are you sure?” said the man as Athalie lifted her eyes from the crystal and smiled rea.s.suringly at him. He was a stocky, red-faced, trim, middle-aged man; but his sanguine visage bore the haggard imprint of sleepless nights, and the edges of his teeth had bitten his under lip raw.
Athalie glanced carelessly at the crystal, then nodded.
”Yes,” she said patiently. ”I am sure of it, Mr. Clements. The _Empress of Formosa_ will dock on Monday--about--nine in the morning.
She will be reported by wireless from the _Empress of Borneo_ this evening.... They have been relaying it from the Delaware Capes....
There will be an extra edition of the evening papers. You may dismiss all anxiety.”