The Continental trip extended to months, after which there were a few visits, so that it was well into the next season before they were back at the house in Saint James's, and after their return Marie devoted herself to Ruth, hoping that Montaigne would not show himself again, though they both trembled at the thought of his coming.

Still, he did not show himself, and matters went on so happily and well that Ruth began to hope that Marie's love for Glen was dead, when, in an evil hour, and, as Marie said, to fulfil a social duty, they called upon Lady Anna Maria Morton, meeting Lady Littletown there; when that lady insisted upon their dining with her at her town house, and it was next to impossible to refuse.

Lady Littletown was a match-maker at heart, and she always looked upon her conservatory, with its brilliant flowers, as her greatest aid in such matters. Hence it was that her ladyship took care to have a conservatory wherever she lived.

She had taken a handsome house in South Kensington for a short season, one that was admirably furnished in this respect, though far from being equal to Mr Elbraham's gla.s.s palace. Still, it was enough.

Lord Henry frowned slightly on finding that Captain Glen was among the guests, and deputed by Lady Littletown to take Marie in to dinner; but his brow cleared directly, and he smiled at his wife as she went by him and gave him an appealing look that seemed to say, "Don't blame me."

Hardly had they pa.s.sed on to the staircase before Glen said in a quick, agitated voice: "I thought I was never to see you again. I must have a few words with you before you go."

Five minutes before, Marie had told herself that she was brave and strong, and that the past fancy was dead; but on hearing these words her hand trembled, her heart beat fast, and she knew that she was as weak as ever, and that she could only falter: "It is impossible!"

"It is not impossible!" he said angrily. "I must--I will see you."

They entered the dining-room, and for the next two hours everything seemed to Marie like a dream. Lord Henry was at the bottom of the table, taking his old place of host, and the flower-filled vases completely shaded his wife from sight: still, Ruth was exactly opposite, apparently listening to the conversation of Glen; but Marie knew that she was watching them narrowly.

She went upstairs in a dream, just as she had come down, and answered questions, talked and entered into the various themes of conversation as if she were quite collected; but all the time there had been a restless throbbing of her pulses, and she trembled, and felt that she would have given the world to be away!

At last!

Marie heard the dining-room door open, and the sound of ascending voices. Lord Henry would be there directly, and she would ask him to take her back.

That was Marcus Glen's voice speaking loudly, and every fibre of her body seemed to thrill as she listened to its tones.

Marie's back was to the door as he entered, and she could not see him; but she seemed to feel his approach, and all was a dream once more, as he seated himself on the ottoman by her, and began to talk about some current topic.

She answered him, took the opposite side, talking freely and well, and Lord Henry chided himself for his uneasy feeling, and felt that he ought to be proud of such a wife. She was devoted to him, and he trusted her with all his heart.

The conversation was very animated for the time that Glen stood by her; but all the while Marie's pulses kept up that quick, feverish throb, and there was the hidden sense of danger still within her heart.

May had come round again, the Academy pictures were once more drawing their crowds, and directly after an early breakfast one morning Marie and Ruth walked up into Piccadilly to spend a couple of hours while the rooms were empty and cool.

How it happened Marie afterwards hardly realised, but she had become separated from her cousin, who had wandered on into the next room, leaving her gazing listlessly about, when suddenly her heart seemed to stand still, for close beside her there was a low sigh, and she felt more than saw that Glen was at her elbow.

Mastering her emotion, she turned quickly to reproach him for following her there, when she saw that he had his back to her, and was gazing intently at a portrait. She did not speak. It was a kind of gasp or catching of the breath; but he heard it, and turned sharply round to face her.

"Marie!" he exclaimed.

"Hush! Don't speak to me, for G.o.d's sake!"

She said no more, but reeled, and would have fallen had he not caught her arm, and led her through the next opening and downstairs to the refreshment-room, quite empty at that early hour, the waiters not being ready for visitors.

There were a couple of the attendants at hand, ready to bring water and ice, and at the end of a few minutes Marie gazed wildly about her-- starting violently, though, as she heard the deep voice at her side.

"That will do," he said quietly. "A few minutes' rest and she will be quite recovered." Then they were alone, with Glen whispering to her eagerly, and she listening with her eyes half-closed and a strange dazed look in her pallid face.

"No, no!" she said at last feebly.

"You shall," he cried, and his strong will prevailed over her more and more. "You must leave him, Marie. I do not ask it: I know you love me.

You always have loved me. Come to me, my darling, or I must die."

"Die!" she moaned. "No, no; not you. O G.o.d, forgive me! Would that I were dead!"

"Dead, when there is a life of happiness before us?" he whispered.

"Marie dearest, at last! You understand?" he said, after whispering for some time.

"Yes, yes," she said slowly; and he spoke again very quickly, but in low, distinct tones.

"Yes," she repeated heavily, "I understand."

"Marie!"

"Lady Henry was taken suddenly ill in one of the rooms, Miss Allerton,"

said Glen hurriedly. "Fortunately I was there."

"Ill," said Ruth slowly, as she ran to Marie's side. "Fortunately you were there. Captain Glen, I will see to my cousin now. Will you have the goodness to go?"

He raised his hat and slowly walked away.

"Marie, Marie!" cried Ruth piteously. "How could you deceive me so?"

"No, no!" cried Marie excitedly. "I did not know he was here. It was an unexpected meeting. Take me--"

She was about to say "home," but she could not utter the word, and as they walked back Ruth thought of this, and a hand seemed to compress her heart as she said to herself:

"The work of months undone!"

Volume 3, Chapter XII.

JOHN HUISH GETS BACK PART OF HIS BRAINS.

More than once during the severe attack of brain-fever from which John Huish lay prostrate at Highgate, Dr Stonor compressed his lips and asked himself whether he would save his young friend's life. At such times, as he sat by the bedside and gazed in his patient's face, the lineaments brought back the scene by the pit and his father's agony, as Captain Millet lay apparently dying.

"How time has gone!" the doctor would mutter, "and how like he looks to his father now!"

But a change for the better came at last, and after a long and weary convalescence he was once more about, month after month gliding by, and the brain refusing to accompany the body on its way to health.

He was very quiet and gentle, but he seemed to have no recollection of what had gone by, neither did he evince any desire, but pa.s.sed his time mostly in the doctor's study, where an unrolled mummy had apparently so great an attraction for him that he would sit near and watch it hour after hour when no one was by.

"Must get him better first," the doctor would say. "I can't run the risk of bringing on a relapse."

So John Huish remained in utter ignorance of the fact that his young wife had been confined to her bed at the gloomy house in Wimpole Street, so prostrated by all she had had to pa.s.s through, that the doctors called in advised total rest and quiet, combined with careful nursing.

Nothing calculated to excite her was to reach her ears. Hence, when in his turn Dr Stonor called, his lips were sealed respecting John Huish's state; and poor Gertrude never mentioned his name.

After leaving Renee by her sister's side, the doctor had a long chat with his old friend, whose white hand trembled as he thrust it forth to be taken by the visitor.