It was not a great deal. He had arrived at Bath that time looking very stern and abstracted, and had mentioned rather shortly that he had come down with the head of the family's wife in the train, and had gone on to Ardayre with her, after meeting them the previous night at dinner for the first time.

He had not been at all expansive, but later in the evening when they had sat by her sitting room fire, he had suddenly said something which had startled her greatly:

"Mum--I want you to know Amaryllis Ardayre. I am madly in love with her--she is going to have a baby, and she seems to be so alone."

It must be one of those sudden pa.s.sions, and the idea seemed in some way to jar a little. Denzil to have fallen in love with a woman whom he knew was going to have a child!

She had said something of this to him, and he had turned eyes full of pain to her and even reproach.

"Mum--you always understand me--I am not a beast, you know--I haven't anything more to say, only I want you to be really kind to her--and get to know her well."

And he had not mentioned the subject again, but had been very preoccupied during all his three days' visit, which state she could not account for by the fact of the war--Denzil, she knew, was an enthusiastic soldier, and to be going out to fight would naturally be to him a keen joy. What did it all mean? And here was this sweet creature speaking of divine love mysteries and looking up at the portrait of her dull, unattractive husband with melancholy eyes, whereas they had sparkled with interest when Denzil was the subject of conversation! Could she, too, have fallen in love with Denzil in one night at dinner and a journey in the train!

It was all very remarkable.

They had tea together in the green drawing room, and by that time they had become very good friends.

Mrs. Ardayre told Amaryllis of the little old manor home she had in Kent--The Moat, it was called, and of her garden and the pleasure it was to her.

"I had about twelve thousand a year of my own, you know," she said, "and ever since Denzil was born I have each year put by half of it, so that when he was twenty-one I was able to hand over to him quite a decent sum that he might be independent and free. It is so humiliating for a man to have to be subservient to a woman, even a mother, and I go on doing the same every year. All the last years of his life my husband was very delicate--he was so badly wounded in the South African War, you know--so we lived very quietly at The Moat and in my tiny house in London. I hope you will let me show you them both one day."

Amaryllis said she would be delighted, and added:

"You will come and see me, won't you? I am going up to our house in Brook Street at the beginning of April, and I am praying that I may have a little son about the first week in May."

Just before Mrs. Ardayre went on to Dorchester, she asked Amaryllis if she had any message to send Denzil--she wanted to watch her face. It flushed slightly and her deep soft voice said a little eagerly:

"Yes--tell him I have been so delighted to meet you, and you are just what he said I should find you!--and tell him I sent him all sorts of good wishes--" and then she became a little confused.

"I should so love a photograph of you--would you give me one, I wonder?"

the elder woman asked quickly, to avoid any pause, and while Amaryllis went out of the room to get it, she thought:

"She is certainly in love with Denzil. It could not have been the first time he had seen her--at the dinner--and yet he never tells lies." And she grew more and more puzzled and interested.

When Amaryllis was alone after the motor with Mrs. Ardayre in it had departed, an uncontrollable fit of restlessness came over her. The visit had stirred up all her emotions again; she could not grieve any more about the tragedy of John; her whole being was vibrating with thoughts of Denzil and desire for his presence--she could see his face and feel the joy of his kisses.

At that moment she would have flung everything in life away to rush into his arms!

CHAPTER XVIII

Denzil was wounded at Neuve Chapelle on March 10th, 1915, though not seriously--a flesh wound in the side. He had done most gallantly and was to get a D.S.O. He had been in hospital for two weeks and was almost well when Amaryllis came up to Brook Street, on the first of April. She had read his name in the list of wounded, and had telegraphed to his mother in great anxiety, but had been rea.s.sured, and now she throbbed with longing to see him.

To know that soon he would be going back again to the Front, was almost more than she could bear. She was feeling wonderfully well herself. Her splendid const.i.tution and her youth made natural things cause her little distress. She was neither nervous nor fretful, nor oppressed with fancies and moods. And she looked very beautiful with her added dignity of mien and perfectly chosen clothes.

Mrs. Ardayre came at once to see her the morning after her arrival, and suggested that Denzil should come when out driving that afternoon.

Amaryllis tried to accept this suggestion calmly, and not show her joy, and Mrs. Ardayre left, promising to bring her son about four.

Denzil had said to his Mother when he knew that Amaryllis was coming to London:

"Mum, I want to see Amaryllis--please arrange it for me. And Mum, don't ask me anything about it; just leave me there when we drive and come and fetch me when I must go in again."

Mrs. Ardayre was a very modern person, but she could not help exclaiming in a half voice while she sat by her son's bed:

"You know she is going to have a baby in a month, dear boy, perhaps she won't care to see you now."

A flush rose to Denzil's forehead: "Yes, I do know," he said a little hurriedly, "but we are not conventional in these days. I wish to see her; please, darling Mother, do what I ask."

And then he had turned the conversation.

So his mother had obediently arranged matters, and at about four in the afternoon left him at the Brook Street door.

Early as it was, Amaryllis had made the tea, and expected to see both Denzil and his mother. The room was full of hyacinths and daffodils, and she herself looked like a spring flower, as she sat on the sofa among the green silk cushions, wrapped in a pale parma violet tea-gown.

The butler announced "Captain Ardayre," and Denzil came in slowly, and murmured "How do you do?"

But as soon as the door was closed upon him, he started forward, forgetting his stiff side.

He covered her hands with kisses, he could not contain his joy; and then he drew back and looked at her with worship and reverence in his blue eyes.

The most mysterious, quivering emotions were coursing through him, mixed with triumph, as he took in the picture she made. This delicate, beautiful creature! And to see her--so!

Amaryllis lowered her head in a sweet confusion; her feelings were no less aroused. She was thrilling with pa.s.sionate welcome and delicious shyness. Nature was indeed ruling them both, and with a glad "Darling Angel!" Denzil sat down beside her and clasped her in his arms. Then for a few seconds delirious pleasure was all that they knew.

"Let me look at you again, Sweetheart," he ordered presently, with a tone of command and possession in his very deep voice, which caused Amaryllis delight. It made her feel that she really belonged to him.

"To me you have never been so beautiful--and every sc.r.a.p of you is mine."

"Absolutely yours."

"I had to come--I cannot help whether it is right or wrong. I must go back to the Front as soon as I am fit, and I could not have borne to go without seeing you, darling one."

They had a hundred things to say to each other about themselves--and about the baby, and the next hour was very sacred and wonderful.

Denzil was a superlatively perfect lover and knew the immense value of tender words.

He intoxicated Amaryllis' imagination with the moving things he said.

Alas! how many worthy men miss themselves, and make their loved ones miss the best part of life's joys by their mulish silence and refusal to gratify this desire of all women to be _told_ that they are loved, to have the fact expressed in pa.s.sionate speech! No deeds make up for this omission.

Denzil had none of these limitations; he said everything which could cajole and excite the imagination. He murmured a hundred affecting tendernesses in her ears. He caressed her--he commanded and mastered her, and then a.s.sured her that he was her slave. He was arrogant and humble--arrogant when he claimed her love, humble in his worship. He spoke of the child and what it meant to him that it should be his and hers. He caused her to feel that he was strong and protective and that she was to be cherished and adored. He made pictures of how it would be if he could spend a whole day and night with her presently in June, when she would be quite well, and of how thrilled with interest he would be to see the baby, and that, of course, it _must_ be exactly like himself! And Amaryllis' eyes, all soft and swimming with emotion answered him.

Naturally, since she loved him so pa.s.sionately, it would be his image!

Had not his own mother accounted for his p.r.o.nounced Ardayre stamp by her having been so in love with his father--so, of course, this would re-occur! It was all dear to think about!

They spent another hour of divine intoxication, and then the clock struck six.