"I loathed you," she remarked, refusing to be drawn. "You were the most objectionable, bad-tempered, conceited little beast that ever wore a silly little top hat and Eton suit."

He laughed with a relish.

"That's better!" approvingly. "It's impossible not to think there is something the matter with you, when you are not dealing out bombs of some sort. Why were you looking so woebegone when I came from the study, out here all alone in the hall?"

"I was not looking woebegone."

"Oh, yes, you were--just as if I shouldn't know." There was a pause, then he said with unexpected gentleness: "You were thinking about Eileen and O'Hara getting engaged, and you being left out in the cold." He put his hand on hers suddenly: "Mavourneen," he said in a voice of enthralling softness, "you were lonesome."

For one moment she left her hand in his, and then sprang to her feet with a bound: "An objectionable, bad-tempered, conceited little beast, that's what you were," and she slipped past him back to the drawing-room.

Lawrence remained a few seconds longer, and in his face was a strange mingling of yearning and satisfaction. That one moment had been pa.s.sing sweet, the very most he had had to encourage him all through--yet how it made him hunger for more! And she had looked sad when he found her, he had seen it distinctly--the little droop about the lips--the little air of unwonted thoughtfulness.

Ah! she must come now--there must be no more delay--surely with Eileen's engagement a recognised fact he could make headway at last. Surely this was the moment to strike hard. He would take his opportunity.

There were again tears on Paddy's lashes that night, and she tossed restlessly. She shut her eyes, and shut her ears, and tried to shut her mind--but nothing would wholly drown those few words, coming as they did in her first hours of loneliness--nor the ravishing sweetness of the tones: "Mavourneen, you were lonesome."

It was like a spell upon her. Some unreal enchantment that possessed her spirit. Of course it must be broken. Things could not go as they were. Once for all she must _make_ him see the uselessness of his quest, and it must be soon. That Eileen was healed and comforted did not make the smallest difference. The past was still the past. The handwriting still glowed on the wall. Over his coveted happiness--over any happiness for them together--was writ large the sentence of old: "Tekel--Found Wanting."

In this mood, and feeling very resolute, Paddy started out two days later, to deliver judgment.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

IN LAWRENCE'S DEN.

It was to a small luncheon party, given especially for the three pairs of lovers at Mourne Lodge, that Eileen and Paddy and Jack set out that bright, crisp morning. Gwen and her giant, Doreen and her barrister, Eileen and her stalwart rancher--these were the three amorous couples whom Lawrence, Kathleen and Paddy had to severally and together keep within the bounds of rational dinner-table conversation for a whole hour. After that they were prepared to wash their hands of them and let them hide away and discuss delightful nothings to their own delectation until tea-time. Doreen and the pump-handle court representative announced their intention of playing billiards, which no one thought it worth while to contradict, however sceptical he felt, and anyhow they bent their steps in the direction of the billiard-room. Eileen and Jack decided upon a quick walk, and the giant, of course, merely waited orders. At first they seemed to hang fire. Gwen was manoeuvring in a way that certainly meant something, but it was very difficult to tell exactly what. As a matter of fact, she was waiting on the off chance of Kathleen being called away. Directly the hoped-for call came she was prompt to act.

"Come along, Paddy," she said, putting her arm through hers; "let's go and rummage round in Lawrence's den. I think it's just the loveliest spot in the whole house! Did you ever see such a rag-tag and bobtail of odds and ends before? I just love poking round there." And she led the way at once, Lawrence and the giant following.

For several minutes she really did poke round, and then she discovered she had lost her handkerchief, and promptly dispatched the giant in search. As he was naturally as close to her as he could be she had no difficulty in adding in a tone that he only could hear, "Don't come back." After three minutes she looked up in the most natural way imaginable and remarked, "Whatever can Goliath be doing? My handkerchief must be in the dining-room. Perhaps he can't see so far as the floor."

Paddy had seated herself in a large easy-chair, and, scenting nothing of the plot, was idly watching the fire. She had, in consequence, no time to realise what was on foot until it was too late.

"I shall have to go and help him search," said Gwen with a pretence at annoyance. "He is a terrible m.u.f.f at finding any thing."

Whereupon she calmly departed and closed the door behind her, leaving Paddy sitting in the big arm-chair, and Lawrence leaning against the mantelpiece, looking down at her with an odd little twinkle in his eyes.

In the dining-room Gwen found Kathleen, but she was quite prepared for the emergency.

"Where has everybody gone?" Kathleen asked wonderingly.

"All gone out, I think," Gwen replied unblushingly, and then went off with her Giant to the drawing-room, knowing perfectly well Lawrence's sisters never went into his den, and that therefore her strategy was quite successful.

Meanwhile, when Paddy saw that Gwen had closed the door after her, she leaned forward with a doubtful expression and appeared about to follow.

"Don't run away," said Lawrence, "or I shall think you are afraid of me."

"I am not afraid of anyone," stoutly, still looking toward the door.

"No, I know you are not. Still, the others most certainly don't want us; we should only be in the way."

It was too true. Paddy leaned back and stared into the fire, and that little droop hovered round her lips again. Kathleen was sure to be with her mother, and the others all dispersed.

"Not even anyone to go ratting with," he said, with a tender little smile.

The lips twitched and then settled again to the droop, while she tried to reinforce herself for the struggle that loomed ahead. No use to run away now. The time had come for a final understanding, and it must be faced.

Lawrence watched her a little while in silence, and there was absolute stillness in the room except for the cheery crackling of the fresh log he had just thrown on the fire.

"You look, somehow, as if you were prepared for the worst," he told her, smiling. "Am I such a terrible ogre?"

She did not speak, and he pulled up a chair beside her and sat down, holding his thin white hands out to the blaze.

"Do you remember the last time you were in my den?" running on. "It was the night of the girls' 'coming-out' dance--the ultimatum, so to speak, when you declared war. I remember it perfectly--I always shall. You were all in white, Paddy--a fluffy kind of dress that suited you, admirably. I remember being surprised to see how pretty you _could_ look. But, of course, it was your hair--you had always treated it so abominably before. I sometimes think it is the loveliest hair I have ever seen in my life--and I've seen a good deal," with a humorous little shrug. "And then, of course, your eyes are good, and there's the fascinating mouth."

Paddy could not resist a smile. "When you've done going over my points?"

"Your points are A1, Patricia," with admiration in his eyes. "You are a thoroughbred to your finger-tips."

"Well, don't be personal, or I shall go. You know I don't like it."

"No, don't go. I'll try to be good."

He was silent a moment, and slowly that same air of the previous evening, suggestive of sadness, crept over her face again, and there was a weariness in her att.i.tude as she sat back watching the flames and clasping each arm of the chair with delicate, tapering fingers.

"Paddy," he said simply, "chuck all those foolish doubts and fancies of yours, and give in. I can't bear to see you looking forlorn."

"I will not: I will never give in."

He squared his shoulders unconsciously, and her fingers gripped the arms of her chair more tightly.

"You can't help yourself in the end. Why prolong my suspense?

Everything is against you. Even Fate is pairing off the others and leaving you and me alone. I know quite well you are lonely--desperately lonely--but it is your own fault. If you would only be sensible and let yourself follow the dictates of your heart, instead of a warped conscience, you could be happy with the rest. I say your heart, because somewhere, hidden away, there's a soft corner for me you are afraid of.

Isn't that so, Paddy!" and he looked searchingly into her face.

She made no reply, staring into the fire with a perplexed, unhappy expression.

He put one hand over the fingers nearest him and held them fast. She attempted to draw them away, but he retained his hold, and for the moment she went with the flood.

"You have not answered me, mavourneen."

"I have only one answer--I will not give in."

"And I say you will. This new loneliness has come to help me. Already you are nearer to me than ever before."

She drew a long breath.

"It is only because I see we must come to a real understanding once for all. We can't just go on as we have. That's chiefly why I remained here now. I want to make you understand."