"And even, Grizel, if I wrote in your painter's medium, my reds would have no glow! One cannot give out what one does not possess. While I am cold myself, how can I give out warmth? It is so long, Grizel, since my heart was warm!"

A sigh floated back to his ears.

"_Pauvre_!" breathed the deep voice, but she did not turn her head; the gleaming figure flitted before him down the darkening path.

"I flattered myself that I had made a brave pretence. It was a good enough sham to delude the world, but You have found me out. Don't think that I regret it--I am thankful to Heaven that _some one_ understands.

To be praised for what one knows to be false is a bitter pill.

Sometimes I wonder, shall I throw it all up? Settle down comfortably into the rut, and--grow roses! I could grow good roses, Grizel; the best of their kind. There would be no need to be ashamed."

In the twilight he saw her shake her head. A fold of the golden robe escaped her hands, and trailed on the ground. They stooped together to lift it up, and she smiled up at him with her sweet gay smile.

"But you couldn't, Martin; you couldn't do it! You might make a hundred resolutions, but you'd begin again. There's no escape that way, dear man. You must write, as you must breathe, therefore it follows that you must get warm. Chills are depressing things, but they are dangerous only when they are allowed to settle. This old house of yours has its back to the sun."

"I can read your parable, Grizel, but circ.u.mstances--like houses--are not easily turned round. Life has made chains for me from which I cannot escape. Katrine--"

"I rather--suspect," interrupted Grizel drawling, "that Katrine's chains are slackening! Some one, or something, has been supplying the oil.

Another creak or two and she will be breaking loose, and going off at a tangent which will surprise your innocent mind!"

"Symbols again! I don't follow so easily this time, but if the signs are good, I am uncommonly thankful. I can talk openly to you, Grizel, for you won't misunderstand. Katrine is--on my mind! Perhaps it would be more honest if I said on my _nerves_! I've a suspicion that I'm on her nerves also, and the mischief of it is, that things are growing worse. There's nothing definitely wrong, and yet there's--everything!

I feel an utter brute."

To his astonishment, to his relief, Grizel laughed; a blithe and comfortable laugh. They had reached the summit of the orchard by this time, and had paused to look down at the twinkling lights of the village before turning back to the house.

"Poor, dear, conventional brute! Am I expected to be shocked? I'm not one bit, and I can't pretend to be. It's not your fault, and it's not Katrine's. You have both done your laborious bests to accomplish something that has never been accomplished by effort since the world began, and you are both overcome with Remorse because it has failed.

I'd like to present you with a putty medal apiece to the memory of a successful failure. You have lived together, two utter strangers, who happen to have been born brother and sister, for eight long years without once descending to violence. It's magnificent, it's incredible!

You ought to be intoxicated with pride! It's the most unique quality on earth which enables two people to live in happiness and understanding, and what const.i.tutes it, the d.i.c.kens only knows. We've got it,--my old Buddy and I. We are at opposite ends of the poles, we can on occasions quarrel like cats, but in the main we understand; we _fit_! You and Katrine don't touch within miles. There's no credit, there's no blame. Fate placed us together, not choice. I have succeeded because--please realise this!--I didn't need _to try_. You, poor lambs, have tried away what little chance you had. It is affectation to pretend that it is your fault. The only blame would be to go on living in a false condition."

"I know it, I know it! I've been feeling it more and more strongly.

It's not fair to Katrine; it's not fair to me or to my work. But what can I do? I brought her here, she has given up her youth to looking after me, there's no other home open, to her--I don't pretend that her happiness is bound up in mine, but she _thinks_ that it is, and that's virtually the same thing. She would feel desperately aggrieved--"

"Oh, you unselfish people, there's no dealing with you!" Grizel shrugged impatiently. "_Let_ her feel aggrieved! If it's a case of smarting for a week, or freezing for life, then let her _smart_! Can't you make up your mind just for once in your life to speak the bold, blatant truth? 'Katrine, my dear, we are getting sick of each other-- let's cut it, and part! I'll give you an allowance--go off and pay visits, or set up a crib of your own, enjoy yourself in your own way, but for Heaven's sake let me be happy too!'"

Martin shook his head.

"I couldn't, Grizel; I couldn't! It may be the right thing to do, but I'm a coward. I can't face it. Not that way!"

Grizel looked at him whimsically. Men--the best of men, were so apt to believe that so long as the words were not actually spoken, their feelings remained concealed. And woman,--the pity of it!--could read the meaning of a sign. This woman already had read the signs.

Undoubtedly, inevitably, a change was at hand!

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Despite her growing indifference towards neighbouring festivities, Katrine could not resist a thrill of excitement in preparing for the Barfield Garden Party, which was in truth no ordinary local function, but an important, almost a national, fete. Among the guests royalty itself might appear; foreign potentates, amba.s.sadors, distinguished politicians, disciples of the arts and sciences would be on show on the wide lawns, and within the splendid rooms of the old Castle. It would be, as Katrine herself had said, a very Zoological Garden of lions, among whom an insignificant spinster from a country town must of necessity appear the smallest of small fry.

Martin, of course, owned a roar of his own, a minor roar, but still distinguishable among the rest, but his sister had no claim to celebrity. Her aim was theoretically to see, not to be seen, but the theory did not prevent a lengthy and painstaking toilette.

It was only a simple ninon dress, it was only a home-made hat, she owned neither jewels nor laces, nor valuable accessories of any sort to give a _cachet_ to the whole, but considering these deficiencies there was the more reason for being thankful for a graceful figure, for a face with well-cut features, and deep, level eyes.

Surveying the completed toilette in her gla.s.s Katrine first smirked and then sighed. "Very praiseworthy considering, but when I see Grizel, she will knock the conceit out of me!" she said to herself as she put the dressing-table in order with a few swift touches, and crossed the pa.s.sage to tap at the door of the guest chamber.

"May I come in?"

"What ho!" sounded cheerily from within, and Katrine entered to behold a Romney picture in grey chiffon pirouetting before the gla.s.s, a ridiculous buckram bandeau pressed turban-like on her head, to which she was endeavouring to anchor a vast hat, encircled by sweeping white feathers. The feathers swept, they did not soar, a Grizel-like distinction between beauty and fashion; there was not a touch of colour about her, except for the coral brightness of her lips. Katrine felt an instant conviction that ninon was heavy, that colour was vulgar, that every item of her own toilette was detestable and ill-chosen. She stood staring in the doorway, and even as she stood the door of Martin's room opened, at the opposite side of the pa.s.sage.

He would have pa.s.sed on without a glance towards the opened room; Katrine in her friend's place would have dodged hastily into a corner rather than have been discovered in the unbecoming stage of bandeau _sans_ hat, but Grizel hailed him with a cheerful cry:

"Halloa, you man thing! Look upon me, and thank your stars you are not a woman. I've _got_ to balance this tent upon my head, and nothing short of clamps will do it. And there's one hairpin, a fiendish anarchist of a hairpin, simply stacking into my scalp! ... Which would you rather,--keep the car waiting while I take it down and do it again, or have me scratching at my head all the afternoon, at the most compromising moments? Put your fingers in, Katrine! Prod about! Can you feel it? Not that one, no! For the land's sake don't scatter my curls on the floor. That's him! That's him! Good girl! ... What a mussiful relief... Now for the skewers... Deadly, ain't they? But I have screws for the ends, so you can be aisey... The question of the hour is, Martin--_do_ you love me better in a veil, or without?"

She faced him, holding before her face lengths of filmy white, no disfiguring scrolls, no shadows, such as the fashion of the day forces on an unoffending public, but a gossamer tulle, invisible at a few yards' distance, yet lending a becoming softness to the features.

Martin, however, gallantly refused to see the improvement, and gave the verdict "Without!" in unhesitating accents, whereupon Grizel beamed upon him, and deliberately proceeded to swathe the folds round the wide brim of the hat.

"Sweet pusson! But you wouldn't, after a long drive, when the ends were flying! No woman can look distinguished with tousley hair. I'm ready, my loved ones! If you've any remarks to make, make 'em now, or else for ever hold your peace. As for Katrine--she's quite unnecessarily good-looking--no objections to make there. My hobject is--if you can understand,--to appear as if I were 'Somebody,' and have a train of admirers following wherever I go!--If you didn't know any better, do you think you could mistake me for 'Some one in Particular,' and hang around to stare?"

The brother and sister smiled indulgently.

"Isn't Grizel Dundas Somebody?" Martin enquired.

"She's a goose anyway!" corrected Katrine, but she said it with a laugh, and in a voice which held no trace of the ordinary snap. Martin's eyes turned upon her quickly; he also seemed to be infected with an unusual gentleness and amenity of manner.

"How nice you look, dear--how very nice!" he said genially. In the way of definite approval it was more than he had said to Grizel herself.

Katrine flushed with pleasure, and brushed his arm with a caressing touch. Each was conscious of a longing to make up for the growing disloyalty of the past months. The position remained unchanged, but there was a different att.i.tude towards it; they had grown suddenly softer, kindlier; in each mind was a conviction of personal responsibility, a disinclination to blame the other. "I haven't considered her enough. She's had a desperately dull time." ... "I've been so narrow-minded--so blind. I didn't understand!" Each heart made its own confession of shortcomings, and felt lightened of a load. It was in the happiest of moods that the trio started on their ten-mile drive through the wooded country which stretched between c.u.mly and Barfield Castle.

In the matter of rural scenery England stands unsurpa.s.sed in the kingdoms of the world, and a stranger to our isle could not have had a better introduction to its beauties than the drive through that southern county. Long avenues of beeches gave entrance to the most picturesque of villages, with the traditional duck-pond and green; thatched cottages showed a blaze of flowers in their trim gardens; the smooth white road curved through the heart of a great forest, dived through the precipitous High Street of a quaint old town, and climbed steeply to a breezy down. Everywhere there was a wealth of greenery, a universal air of prosperity, of order, of well-being, good to behold on this brilliant summer morning.

Within a few miles of Barfield Castle, however, all peacefulness vanished from the scene. The converging roads were filled with an unending stream of vehicles, and the dust rose in clouds above the hedgerows. The women wrapped themselves closely in dust cloaks and motor-veils, the pace slackened to a crawl, and at frequent intervals ceased altogether as the congested lines merged together near the castle gates. When once that point had been pa.s.sed, progress was sure though slow, and the dust of the high roads was replaced by refreshing shade from the great avenue of trees. The wrappings were thrown aside, to display the brave toilettes of men and women; and the pedestrians who, having travelled by train, had been disappointed of finding conveyances at the station, gazed enviously, curiously, at the occupants of the various carriages and cars, and were in their turn as mercilessly scrutinised.

"Everybody is dying to know who everybody else is!" whispered Grizel gleefully. "Buck up, Katrine, and look haughty. You may be mistaken for a d.u.c.h.ess, or a variety actress,--you never know your luck! When we pa.s.s the next group, watch me heave, to show off the effect of my ma.s.sed gems!"

The "ma.s.sed gems" consisted of a diamond brooch and a small heart-shaped pendant to match, which nestled together in the folds of chiffon at Grizel's breast. It was a charming and ludicrous sight to behold her inflate her slight form at the prescribed moment, but sure enough, the stones flashed in response, catching a pa.s.sing sunbeam and blazing with a brilliance altogether out of proportion to their size.

"There!" cried Grizel triumphantly, achieving a double chin in her effort to admire her own splendour. "Never say again that I don't do you credit!"

The first part of the afternoon was spent pleasantly enough in strolling about the gardens, or in sitting down to watch the kaleidoscopic brilliance of the scene. At intervals Martin was hailed by a fellow-writer or club acquaintance, or Grizel by a friend from town, but Katrine was never so addressed. Other girls less attractive than herself flitted about with attendant cavaliers, or formed the centres of merry groups. What was the use of being "unnecessarily good-looking,"

if no one were influenced thereby?

Across the sunshine of the scene shot grey shadows of depression. In the midst of a crowd one could be so horribly alone! Among the hundreds of guests crowding the green lawn, not one cared to pause by her side.

Even Martin and Grizel.--It was a hateful thought, Katrine fought against it, but her heart acknowledged its truth,--they would be happier without her! It was inevitable that the mind should leap to the remembrance of the one man who _would_ have cared; who, entering by those great gates, would have come swiftly forward, unsatisfied, unseeing, till he had gained her side!

Across the intervening miles went out a warm, glad thought: "_He would have cared_!" said Katrine's heart, and at the thought the sun shone again.

"Excuse me one moment!" cried Martin hurriedly. "That man over there.-- I've been wanting to catch him for months..."

He darted across the lawn, and the two girls subsided into chairs, afraid to leave the spot, lest in the crowd he might not be able to find them on his return. Already Grizel was looking tired and spent; the little face beneath the sweeping hat was white as a tired rose, but the whimsical light shone bright as ever in the golden eyes as she turned them on the pa.s.sing throng, and from her lips bubbled an endless stream of nonsense. It was difficult for a listener to preserve a due decorum of manner as each group pa.s.sed by, heralded by biographical sketches in those low, rich tones.

"--Aunt Hepsibah and her niece Jane... County family. Redooced, but proud. 'A lace shawl,' says Auntie, 'is _always_ le mode! And Jane shall wear my bertha.' ... Mrs Ponsonby de Tompkins. Left cards regularly for years past, angling for an invitation, and at long last one arrived. A handsome new dress for the occasion! The very _best_ satin, and everything to match, Husband excepted! Ponsonby wishes to goodness he'd never come! ... Rich Mr Stock-broker on the point of proposing to Emily Maud. Emily'll have him. Observe the smirk! I _always_ refuse men who propose to me at garden parties... Ha! whom have we here? Looks like a d.u.c.h.ess, but probably is _not_. Old lady in puce probably _is_, and has no right to be... Long-haired pus-son probably an Anabaptist, or a Poet, or something of that ilk."

"It's all very well, but I want to _know_!" objected Katrine in tones of strong disapproval. "It's the dullest thing in the world to be surrounded by celebrities, and not to recognise a single one. Martin goes about so little that he is no use as a guide. The dozens and dozens of interesting invitations which he has refused these last years!