That smell of smoke impregnating an atmosphere which was usually equally reminiscent of furniture polish and paregoric--how intoxicating it smelt in Vanna's nostrils! She kept her eyes riveted on the old lady's face so long as conversation between them continued, but the moment that mother and son were engrossed with each other, her eyes returned greedily to the long, straight limbs, the close-cropped head, the strong, sinewy hands. Youth called to youth. s.e.x called to s.e.x.

At the end of ten minutes' general conversation Piers made the move for which Vanna had anxiously been waiting.

"When will lunch be ready, mother? Miss Strangeways must stay to lunch in honour of my return. We'll go a little turn round the grounds and be back in half an hour. Then I'll ride over with her, and see Miggles while you have your rest."

A shade of disappointment pa.s.sed over Mrs Rendall's face. It was hard to allow her son to pa.s.s out of her sight for even half an hour, but she a.s.sented quietly, after the manner of mothers of grown-up sons, and the two young people strolled out into the garden.

The geranium beds were bare and brown, but the lawn was still a velvety green and the belt of evergreen trees presented a similitude of summer.

Piers led the way forward, and Vanna followed, a smile upon her lips.

"The Happy Land?"

"The Happy Land. Naturally! It is an appropriate walk for you to-day.

No need to ask how it goes. You look blooming--a different girl from when you were here last. And you really like it--this buried-alive existence? When I heard of the arrangement I could not believe it would last beyond a few weeks. It seemed unnatural--unfair. But you have stood it out. You have not been lonely?"

Vanna hesitated. They stood at the entrance to the glen, looking down through a network of bare branches on the stream beneath. The ground was covered with a carpet of leaves, the sweet, soft smell of earth rose refreshingly in the wintry air.

"Yes," she said slowly. "I have been lonely, but--remember that I am bound to look on the bright side of things in this place!--I have had compensations. I am needed here. Miggles could not be left alone with a servant, and there is a great satisfaction in feeling oneself necessary. This new home was offered to me at a moment when I was adrift in the world, and every one in it is kind and loving. I have every comfort, and a dear luxury in the shape of Dinah. I am becoming quite an experienced horsewoman, and it is impossible to feel depressed after a gallop across the downs. And you know Miggles! It's rather wonderful to live beside a person who is preparing for death as cheerfully and happily as most people prepare for a holiday. We talk about it every day, but never gloomily. In a peaceful kind of way she's excited at the prospect. Quite suddenly she will exclaim, 'Oh, I shall see Emma. I haven't seen Emma since we were girls at school. I shall have so _much_ to tell Emma.' And she is full of interest as to her new work. It is to be helping her earth friends. That's quite decided.

'It's what I have been trained for, dear. It stands to reason I must go on.' And she has quite definite ideas of what ought to be done--things that, according to her judgment, have been overlooked, and concerning which she can--very tactfully!--drop a gentle reminder. She has a mission on hand for each one of us. You are to receive special attention."

The young man smiled affectionately.

"Bless her old heart! That's well. I am thankful she is happy. It's a great thing for her to have you; that's natural enough, but--"

He stopped short with that air of reservation which Vanna _found_ so attractive. Never once had he descended to the ba.n.a.lity of a compliment in words; always it had been left to her to divine his approval from eyes and voice--a gratification delightfully freed from embarra.s.sment.

He bit his lip, frowned, and demanded suddenly, "How long do you mean to stay?"

"I hope, as long as she lives. For my own sake as well as hers, for I've grown to love her, and she is a delightful companion. Beyond her simplicity and sweetness, she has such a pretty sense of humour. She makes me laugh in my darkest mood, and--which is equally important--she laughs at me. It would be too boring to live with a person who received one's best sallies with silence or a strained smile; but Miggles is nothing if not appreciative. I shall certainly not leave her by any act of my own."

"And--afterwards?"

Vanna looked up at him: her eyes were brave, but her lips trembled.

From his tall stature he looked down upon the struggle on her face, the trembling lips, the brave, gallant eyes.

"I don't know--I can't say. I don't want to think. It's a subject I can't discuss--_here_. Talk of something else--something cheerful.

Tell me about Jean. Have you seen her lately? When did you see her?

How is she looking? Tell me everything you can about her."

Piers lifted his brows and slightly shrugged his shoulders.

"Jean is--Robert! Robert is--Jean! There you have the situation in a word! Bound up in each other--blind, deaf, dumb to every other interest. I've called once or twice. Their house is charming. She is lovelier than ever; he is, if possible, still more radiantly content.

They seem unfeignedly pleased to see one--for ten minutes! After that their attention begins to flag, and at the end of half an hour you feel that you would be a perfect brute to stay another second. I have come to the conclusion that it is kinder to leave them alone."

"I'm sure of it. I don't even trouble Jean with letters more than once a month. I send constant bulletins of Miggles to Mrs Goring, so that she knows how things go, and for the rest--I bide my time. When a year or so has pa.s.sed away, I hope they will still be as much in love; but there will be more room for outsiders. It's just as well that I am away from town. It is easier to be philosophical at a distance. If I were in town and felt myself unwanted and out in the cold, I should probably be huffy and jealous. As it is, I look forward, and tell myself she will want me another day. One can afford to wait when there's a surety at the end."

"Yes, that's easy. If one were ever sure--" His brow darkened, but meeting her eyes, he smiled, throwing aside the dark thought, with an effort to match her own. "Doubt is forbidden, I suppose, with other repinings? Well! the Queen must be obeyed. Do you remember saying that it was little use to possess a Happy Land so far away that you could rarely see it? And behold the next move in the game is that you are plumped down at its very gates! How many times have you visited your domain since we were here together in summer?"

"Not once. When I have ridden over it has been to see your mother, and I don't care to leave Miggles for long at a time. Besides, I think I shirked it. It was winter, and the trees were bare, and I was alone, and it is difficult to be very happy all by oneself, and sometimes I was in a contrary mood, when I did not even want to _try_. But I am glad to be here to-day. I am glad you brought me."

"I must bring you again. I must come down oftener. As you are giving up your life to help Miggles, it is the duty of all her friends to make things as easy as possible. I shall feel that Seacliff has a double claim on me if I can help you as well as my mother. It will be good for us both to come here and be compelled towards happiness."

Vanna's smile of acknowledgment was somewhat forced. It would have been unmixed joy to look forward to the promised visits, but for those two words which stood out in such jarring prominence that they seemed to obscure her joy. "Duty," "Claim." When in the history of woman did she appreciate a service thus offered by a member of the opposite s.e.x?

"That is very kind of you," she answered formally. "After the excitements of London, Seacliff must seem very dull at this time of year. How long are you going to stay this time?"

"Until--" he hesitated for a moment--"until Monday."

That evening, when Vanna went up to her own room, she sat for an hour beside her little window facing the bay, living over again the events of the day.

Duty! Claim! For the hundredth time the words tolled in her ears. She looked over the grey waste of waters and saw in them a type of her own colourless life. Duty! Claim! But then the scene shifted. She was back again in the library of the Manor House, listening to old Mrs Rendall's words of lament. "He is no sooner here than he has gone. He tells me he must positively leave on Friday." Why had Piers elected to stay on? She was back again in the dining-room, feeling his gaze upon her--a gaze so deep, so pregnant with meaning that it had forced the question from her lips, "What is it? What are you thinking about?"

"You! Here! In this house. The difference it makes--the astounding difference--"

_What_ difference was it which her presence made? His eyes told her that it was a difference of gain.

A twinkling light shone out on the darkness, flashed and waned, flashed again into brighter glow. The waste of waters was illumined with light.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE SANEST WOMAN.

During the remainder of the winter Piers Rendall paid frequent visits to Seacliff, appearing at unexpected moments, sometimes after but a week's interval, sometimes but once in the month. The feeling that he might arrive at any moment brought an element of excitement into Vanna's quiet life. It was delightful to awake in the morning and feel that there was something to which she could look forward--an object towards which to move. When he came there would be invigorating gallops across the downs, visits to the Happy Land, where each was bound to cast care to the winds; happy tea-parties in the dining-room; cosy chats round the fire, Miggles lying on her sofa, Vanna seated on the footstool by her side, Piers in his favourite position on the hearthrug, his long legs stretched out, his back resting against the wall. Sometimes he would recount the doings of the great city, and discuss politics up to date for the edification of the two women, who were keenly interested in the course of events. Sometimes he would read aloud from a book in which Miggles was interested; sometimes they would roast chestnuts, and laugh and jest and cap amusing anecdotes like a party of merry children.

Looking at Piers's face illumined by the firelight on one of these occasions, a sudden vision flashed before Vanna's eyes of that face as she had seen it first. The tightly drawn skin, the down-turned lips, the hard brilliancy of the eyes, the nervous twitching of the features.

This man smiling upon her looked strong, and happy, and glad. Whence had come the change?

At Whitsuntide Jean and Robert came down for a three days' visit--the first since their marriage, and the little cottage was filled with the atmosphere of spring and joy. Two people more utterly content, more beautiful in their happiness, it would be impossible to conceive. Jean was in her gayest, least responsible mood, full of histories of her own failures as housekeeper, her difficulty with bills, her hopeless exceeding of the weekly allowance--the which she recounted with triumphant amus.e.m.e.nt, while Robert sat looking on with an air of penitence and guilt. That he should dare to inflict petty economies upon this G.o.ddess among women!

Towards her old friend Jean's manner was composed of a mingling of tenderness and wonder.

"There's no question about this place suiting you, Vanna," she said the last evening, as the two girls enjoyed a short _tete-a-tete_ in the garden. "I have never seen you look so well; nor so pretty. Robert says so, too. Somehow--I don't know how it is, but you look different, I keep looking at you to see the cause. You have not changed your hair?"

"No; my hair is as you last saw it. It won't 'go' any other way.

There's no difference that I know of. It exists only in your imagination."

"No!" Jean was obstinate. "You look different. Dear old thing, it's a comfort to see you so sweet and blooming. I was afraid I should find you all gone to pieces. I _do_ admire you. When I think of your life, and mine! I should be such a beast. Miggles says you are an angel. So does Piers. Not in so many words, of course. Piers never says what he feels. He is such a silent, shut-up creature, but I could see that he was simply bursting with admiration of your life down here. Doesn't he look well? I have never seen him so bright. Robert says he goes a great deal to the Van Dusens'. They have such a pretty daughter. I've wondered so often if he could be in love at last. That would account for it all. I hope he is--Old Piers! I should like him to be happy."

"Very probably it is. He is certainly changed," said Vanna briefly.

The next day the Gloucesters took their departure, and left behind a sense of loss and blank. Miggles struggled under a weight of depression at the thought that this might be the last time that she would ever behold her beloved child and pupil; the maid covered up the furniture of the guest-room with dull regret; Vanna was racked by an access of bitterness and jealousy. All the dearly won composure of the past eight months seemed swept aside. She was back again in the slough of despond which had followed the memorable visit to the doctor. Every sight, every sound, every word that was uttered seemed to press against her nerves with unbearable jar; she felt a sense of enmity against Miggles, the village, the whole human race; above all, against Jean and her husband. She shut herself within the walls of a cold and sullen reserve, never speaking unless spoken to, answering with the curtest of monosyllables. For three long days she hardened herself against the pleading of Miggles's eyes and the tenderness in the feeble voice, but on the afternoon of the third day she brought her footstool to the side of the sofa, and laid her head against the old woman's knee.

"Comfort me, Miggles! My heart is so sore. I'm sad, and I'm bad, and I've made you miserable, and now I come to you for help. I'm so _tired_. Say something to help me along!"

"What is it, dearie? Grieving after Jean, and feeling lonely to be left without your friend? It was such a short visit. So good of them to spare the time, but from our point of view it was _rather_ aggravating.

You want her back again, as I do, and grieve that she's so far away."