He went on, ignoring her lightness, and determined to say everything.

'I meant to meet you that night and tell you what I'm telling you now; but Christabel was very ill and I couldn't leave her. I hope'--this was difficult--'I hope you didn't get into any sort of mess.'

'That night?' She seemed to be thinking back to it. 'That night--no--I went to a concert with Charles Batty.'

'Oh--' He was bewildered. 'Then it was all right?'

'Perfectly, of course.'

'I didn't know,' he muttered. 'And you forgive me?'

She was generous. 'I was just as bad as you. The Malletts are all flirts. Haven't you heard Aunt Caroline say so? We can't help doing silly things, but we never take them seriously. Why, you must have noticed that with Aunt Rose!'

'No,' he said with dignity, 'your Aunt Rose is like n.o.body else in the world. I think I told you that once. She--' He hesitated and was silent.

'Well, I must be going back,' Henrietta said easily. 'I shan't bother about the primroses. I think it's going to rain. And you won't think about this any more, will you? You know, Aunt Caroline says she nearly eloped several times, and I know my father did it once, with my own mother, probably with other people beside. It's in the blood. I must try to settle down. We did behave rather badly, I suppose, but so much has happened since. That was my first ball and I felt I wanted to do something daring.'

'You were not to blame,' he said; 'but I'm nearly old enough to be your father. I can't forgive myself. I can't forget it.'

'Oh, dear! And I never took it seriously at all. There was a train back to Radstowe at ten o'clock. I looked it up. I was going to get that, but as it happened I went to a concert with Charles Batty. You seem to have no idea how to play a game. You have to pretend to yourself it's a matter of life and death; but you haven't to let it be. That would spoil it.'

'I see,' he said. 'I'm afraid I didn't look at it like that. I wish I had, and I'm glad you did. It makes it easier--and harder--for me.'

'We ought,' she said, 'to have laid the rules down first. Yes, we ought to have done that.' She laughed again. 'I shall do that another time. Good-bye.'

'Good-bye. You've been awfully good to me, Henrietta. Thank you.'

'Not a bit,' she cried. 'If I'd known you were bothering about it, I would have rea.s.sured you.' She could not withhold a parting shot. 'I would have sent you a message by Aunt Rose.'

She waved a hand and ran back to the road. She did not trouble to ask herself whether or not he believed her. She was shaken by sobs without tears. She did not love him, she had never loved him, but she could not bear the knowledge that he did not love her. It was quite plain; she was not going to deceive herself any more; his manner had been unmistakable and it was Aunt Rose he loved. She had been beaten by Aunt Rose, and even Charles called her adorable. She did not want Francis Sales; he was rather stupid, and as a legitimate lover he would be dull, duller than Charles, who at least knew how to say things; but something coloured and exciting and dramatic had been ravished from her--by Aunt Rose. That was the sting, and she was humiliated, though she would not own it. She had been good enough for an episode, but her charm had not endured.

Her little, rather inhuman teeth ground against each other. But she had been clever, she had carried it off well; she had not given a sign, and she determined to be equally clever with Aunt Rose. Some day she would refer lightly to her folly and laugh at the susceptibility of Francis Sales. It would hurt Aunt Rose to have her faithful lover disparaged! But, ah! if only she and Aunt Rose were friends, what a conspiracy they could enjoy together! They had both suffered, they might both laugh. How they might play into each other's hands with Francis Sales for the bewildered ball! It would be the finest sport in the world; but they were not friends, and it was impossible to imagine Aunt Rose at that game. No, she was alone in the world, and as she felt the first drop of rain on her face she became aware of the aching of her heart.

She stood for a moment on the bridge. A grey mist was being driven up the river, blotting out the gorge and the trees. A gull, shrieking dismally, cleaved the greyness with a white flash. It was cold and Henrietta shivered, and once again she wished she could sit by a fireside with some one who was kind and tender; but to-night there would only be Aunt Sophia and Aunt Rose sitting with her in that drawing-room, where everything was too elegant and too clear, where now no one ever laughed.

-- 11

They sat by the fire as she had foreseen, Sophia pretending to be busy with her embroidery, Rose, in a straight-backed chair, reading a book.

Henrietta sat on a low stool with a book open on her knee, but she did not read it. The fire talked to itself, said silly things and chuckled, or murmured sentimentally. That chatter, vaguely insane, and the turning of Rose's pages, the drawing of Sophia's silks through the stuff and the click of her scissors, were the only sounds until, suddenly, Sophia gave a groan and fell back in her chair. Rose, very much startled, glanced at Henrietta and jumped up.

'It's her heart,' Henrietta said with the superiority of her knowledge. 'I'll get her medicine.' She came back with it. 'She was like this when Aunt Caroline died, but I promised not to tell. If she has this she will be better.'

It was Henrietta who poured the liquid into the gla.s.s and applied it to Sophia's lips. She was, she felt, the practical person, and it was she, and not Aunt Rose, who had been trusted by Aunt Sophia. 'She told me where she kept the stuff,' Henrietta continued calmly. 'There, that's better.'

Sophia recovered with apologies: a little faintness; it was nothing.

In a few minutes she would go to bed. They helped her there.

'You ought to have told me, Henrietta,' Rose said on the landing.

'I couldn't. She wished it to be our secret.' It was pleasant to feel that Aunt Rose was out of this affair.

'We must have the doctor and she ought not to be alone to-night.'

I'll sleep on the sofa in her room.'

'No, Henrietta, you need more sleep than I do.'

'Oh, but I'm young enough to sleep anywhere--on the floor! But let Aunt Sophia choose.'

Henrietta went back to the drawing-room, and the housemaid was sent for the doctor. Shortly afterwards there came a ring at the bell; no doubt it was the doctor, and Henrietta wished she could go upstairs with him, for Aunt Rose, she told herself again, was not a practical person and Henrietta was experienced in illness. She had nursed her mother and she liked looking after people. She knew how to arrange pillows; she was not afraid of sickness. However, she would have to wait until Aunt Sophia sent for her; but it was not the doctor: it was Charles Batty who appeared in the doorway.

'Oh,' Henrietta said, 'what have you come for?'

He put down the hat and stick he had forgotten to leave in the hall.

'I don't know,' he said. 'I had a kind of feeling you might like to see me. It's the first time I've had it,' he added solemnly.

He really had an extraordinary way of knowing things, but she said, 'Well, Aunt Sophia's ill, so I don't think you can stay.'

He looked round for her. 'She's not here. I shan't do any harm, shall I? We can whisper.'

'She wouldn't hear us anyhow. It's my room above this one.'

'Is it?' He gazed at the ceiling with interest. 'Oh, up there!'

'I should have thought you knew by instinct,' she said bitingly.

'No.'

'Come and sit down, Charles, and don't be disagreeable. I shall have to go to Aunt Sophia soon, but then you will be able to talk to Aunt Rose. That will do just as well.'

'Not quite,' he said. 'I really came to tell you--'

'You said you came because you thought I wanted you.'

'So I did, but there were several reasons. You said you were going to be happy to-day, not murderous, do you remember? And I thought I'd like to see how you looked. You don't look happy a bit. What's the matter?'

'I've told you Aunt Sophia's ill. And would you be happy if you had to sit in this prim room with two old women?'

'Two? But your Aunt Caroline is dead.'

'But my Aunt Rose is very much alive.'

He wagged his head. 'I see.'

'But she isn't lively. She sits like this--reading a book, and Aunt Sophia, poor Aunt Sophia, sews like this, and I sit on this horrid little stool, like this. That's how we spend the evening.'

'How would you like to spend it?'