Thus, for the second time in her knowledge of him, the man broke through his taciturnity. She could not know that this outburst was far more characteristic of the real Osbert Gaunt than the sullen, frozen surface hitherto presented.

She had no words in which to answer it. The world had turned upside down, she could not reason, could not think out what this might ultimately mean for her. She could not grasp the fact of her husband's complete change of front. Seated in the old chair, worn shiny with many years of usage, she laid her hands upon its arms and lifted her eyes to his, first in wonder, then in a gladness which shone out in a smile that transfigured her pale face. He was quite near--almost stooping over her, and he held his breath with the intensity of the thrill that ran through him.

"O-o-oh!" she cooed tremulously. "Oh, Osbert!"

The sound of his name so moved him that he almost lost control. It sounded like a caress, it was as if she had kissed him. He told himself that he would count up the times she said it, from now until his final exit--treasure them in his mind and call them kisses.

At this moment the gong for dinner boomed in the hall. It brought both of them back with a start to the present moment. Virgie put her hands to her eyes as if she had been dreaming. The man was first of all uncomfortably conscious of riding breeches and gaiters.

"Good heavens, dinner, and I haven't dressed! I can't sit down with you like this!"

"Oh, yes, please do," she said, rising from her seat with a new gaiety, as though a weight had rolled away.

"Please don't keep me waiting while you dress, I am so hungry, and I want to show you my fine new appet.i.te! Besides, Grover is sure to drive me upstairs at an unearthly hour, she has been clucking after me all day like an old mother hen, because, you see, I actually got out of bed to travel! So don't waste any more time, but just come in as you are."

"I'll wash my hands--shan't be five minutes," he stammered out, the sudden, everyday intimacy breaking upon him like a fiery, hitherto untasted source of bliss. "Wait for me, won't you?"

CHAPTER XXVI

THE DIFFICULT PATH

"_I will but say what mere friends say.

Or only a thought stronger; I will hold your hand but as long as all may, Or so very little longer._"--R. Browning.

When Gaunt entered the dining-room, his wife was standing before the fire, its red glow making her white dress and white arms rosy. Hemming was busily employed in fixing a screen at the back of her chair.

"I asked Hemming to move my place," said she. "I hope you don't mind. I felt so far away, there at the end of the table. If I sit here we can talk much better."

"A good idea." Gaunt hoped his voice sounded natural as he spoke. He hardly knew what he said, such was the turmoil within him that he wondered whether his own appet.i.te would fail as hers had done when last they ate together. Yet he was, as a matter of fact, ravenously hungry; and the taking of food steadied him down and made him feel more normal.

He found himself obliged, however, to leave the burden of conversation to her. She talked on bravely, about Dr. Danby and his kindness to Pansy, until, the servants having left the room to fetch the next course, she turned half-frightened, half-challenging eyes to her husband.

"I'm afraid I'm 'prattling,' as you call it," she said deprecatingly.

"Shall I leave off? I will, if I am teasing you."

"Forgive me. I'm not really unresponsive--only a bit bewildered," he answered. "You know that nothing you could conceivably say could fail to interest me. Don't remind me of my unconverted days."

She could not answer, for Hemming returned at the moment. She smiled and coloured.

Left to themselves before the peaches and grapes, when dinner was over, they fell silent. The memory of the former occasion tied the girl's tongue.

The man was facing his problem. Virginia sat there with him, in his house--his wife. She had come back prepared to accept this fate. Had he the strength to resist, the greatness not to take advantage of, her integrity and courage?

The first thing he must do was to ascertain, if possible, her feeling for Gerald Rosenberg, and also whether the young man was really earnest in his love for her.

If he could be satisfied on both these heads, he told himself that he must make atonement in the one possible way. His white lily should never go through the mire of a divorce court, nor must lack of money stand between her and the man of her choice.

Such thoughts as these are inimical to conversation. He sat for some long minutes peeling a peach, and then sensing the delight of watching her while she ate it.

Grover entered quietly. "I just looked in to say I hope you will come upstairs punctually at nine, ma'am," said she, with a keen glance at the two.

"Yes, Grover; I will be good to-night--though I warn you your tyranny is nearly over," said Virgie, her eyes full of mischief. How gay she was when the gaiety was not dashed out of her! As Grover retired, she rose from her chair and looked at him pleadingly. "I wonder if you would do something for me to-night--something I specially want you to do?" said she in tones of coaxing.

"But of course!" He was on his feet in a moment.

"I want you to play to me--on the piano. You played that--first--night.

Do you remember?"

"You liked it?"

She nodded.

"I used to hear you afterwards--when I was upstairs. Grover used to open the door for me to listen," she confessed.

"Really?" He showed his intense pleasure in this tribute. "Come," he said, "I have got a new piano to show you."

They went together down the pa.s.sage to the door of her own sitting-room, now, needless to say, unlocked. They pa.s.sed in; and Gaunt thought himself overpaid for anything he had ever suffered when he heard her first "O-o-oh!" of surprise and pleasure.

The ivory room lay in warm light. The fire danced on the hearth; and upon the pale blue, rose-garlanded hearth-rug lay Cosmo and Damian, with bows to match their surroundings.

The graceful, wine-dark furniture gleamed in the mellow lamp-light.

Every piece in the room was perfection in its way. There was a Chesterfield in just the right place, at right angles to the fire.

Beside it, a small revolving table book-case alone struck a note of frank modernity, and needed but the books and work to complete it.

"You like it?" he asked, trying to mask his eager wistfulness.

"I should think so! You never told me a word! You had this all done!

Oh, how curious!" she murmured in wonder, recalling with a shock the dream which she had dreamt--how she had sought in vain for the old furniture in the attic, and going into this room where she now stood had seen it full of formless whiteness.

"Why do you call it curious?" he asked.

"Because I dreamt about it," she answered, laughing shamefacedly. "I dreamt that I had come back, and was looking for you--that I was up in the attics and could not find this furniture--and that when I came downstairs, this room was empty and all white and ghostly----"

"Did you succeed in finding me--in your dream?"

"Yes." She laughed again. "But it was all stupid--you know dreams are.

Oh, what a darling piano! And that fine old book-cupboard with gla.s.s doors! A secretaire--isn't that the proper name for it?"

"Do you like it? I am glad. I have hung no pictures. Daren't trust my own taste there. Also, I felt that I must leave you to choose your own books--or perhaps you would put china in that cupboard? I find there is a quant.i.ty of old blue stored away up above in the garret. It might amuse you to select and arrange it."

"Oh, it will!" said Virgie in delight. "How pretty it all looks! I had no idea it could be so changed by just being treated right. Don't you want to do all the rest of the house?"

"I want _you_ to do it," he answered.