"She hardly seems the kind of person Basil would like, but he appeared quite pleased. It may have been a little quixotism. All he said was:

"What in the world should we have done without you, G; and there! only a few weeks ago you were wishing you had not been born."

"How like Basil. All grat.i.tude and understanding as usual. But it must have hit him rather hard, Dudley. Is he all right?"

"I don't know." The gloom on Dudley's face deepened. "I thought he looked very ill, but I could not get Ethel to say much. She seemed rather to avoid me. I don't think she likes me."

Hal was conscious of a little inward smile of gladness. She had guessed Ethel's secret long enough ago, and she knew the power of uncertainty and a little thwarting. Dudley would naturally try to break down Ethel's dislike; and perhaps in doing so he would grow to know her better.

"I think I must try and get up to-morrow," was all she said. "Ethel is so reserved. She will get ill herself if she broods and frets on t he top of all her work and anxiety."

"Will you?" he asked, with some eagerness. "Basil loves to see you; and if he is really worse, I shall get Sir John Maitland to go up and see him again."

"Of course I'll go. We may be able to help them between us."

She was just going away upstairs to bed, when the forlorness of Dudley's att.i.tude, and the thought of her own sore heart before d.i.c.k comforted her, made her lay down her hat again and cross the room to him.

"Dudley, don't forget you've got me still. I know I'm very trying sometimes, but I love you so much more than Doris ever could have."

She sat on the arm of his chair, and played with the lapel of his coat.

"Don't forget about me, Dudley. If you are just only miserable, I shall be miserable too."

He looked at her with a sudden greater depth of affection than she had ever seen.

"I don't forget, Hal. If it weren't for you, what in the world should I do now?... It's no use talking about it, is it? You will understand that; but thank G.o.d you're still here with me, and we can go on the same again."

She stooped and kissed him hurriedly, and then left the room, that he might not see the tears br.i.m.m.i.n.g over in her eyes.

The next morning she rang up Lorraine's flat, to know if she had come back yet. She was rather surprised when Jean her maid answered. It was not like Lorraine to go away without her maid.

"You don't know when to expect her?..." she repeated uncertainly.

"No; Miss Vivian said she might come any day, or she might stay over another Sunday. She has the motor with her."

"Is she far from a station?" Hal asked, contemplating the possibility of joining her on Sat.u.r.day if she had not returned.

"About seven miles, I think. She went down in the car, and is coming back in it. I have had one letter, in which she says she is having lovely weather, and absolute rest, and feeling much better."

"That's good. Well, if she comes back suddenly will you ask her to 'phone me? I want to see her."

But neither the next day nor the one after was there any call, and in reply to a second query on Sat.u.r.day, Jean said she had only received a wire that morning saying she was staying until Tuesday.

Hal was a little puzzled that she had not been invited down for the second week-end, but decided Lorraine must have meant to return and changed her mind at the last moment, leaving no time to get a message to her.

A later encounter with d.i.c.k, however, puzzled her more than ever.

"Old Alymer is taking quite a long holiday," he said. "We were expecting him on Tuesday or Wednesday, but he never turned up. He was at the Temple on Thursday, but went away again in the evening."

"I hope Lorraine isn't ill?" she said anxiously; "but of course if she is, she would have sent for Jean."

"Is he away with Miss Vivian?" d.i.c.k asked in some surprise.

"Yes; I made him go," loyally. "He had scruples, but really they seemed too silly, and Lorraine looked so ill, and he always has the knack of cheering her up and doing her good."

d.i.c.k looked at her doubtfully.

"I hope you were wise," he said; "but they are rather fascinating people, you know."

"Oh, nonsense! Lorraine is quite eleven years older than Alymer, and she only likes to look at him."

d.i.c.k had it in his mind to suggest there had been a far greater disparity between her and Sir Edwin, but he only said:

"Well, he is good to look at, isn't he?... and such a dear old chap.

Nothing seems to spoil him. And of course Miss Vivian has done an awful lot for him. If she wanted him to go, he could hardly refuse."

"That's just what I said," with a little note of triumph. "And Jean told me Lorraine had said in a letter she was having absolute rest, and feeling much better."

Yet, when Hal was alone she wondered a little again why Lorraine, after inviting her for the first Sunday, had said nothing about the second.

It was quite unusual for her not to go for a week-end when Lorraine was at the sea.

She felt suddenly that they wanted to be alone, yet persuaded herself it was only because Lorraine had been so tired.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

Hal's uneasiness concerning Lorraine and Alymer Hermon was swallowed up almost immediately on Lorraine's return, by a sudden alarming change in Basil Hayward. The first time she went to Holloway after Doris's elopement, she saw the decided symptoms of change, and her report to Dudley caused the latter once more, on his own responsibility, to request Sir John Maitland to pay a visit to the little flat.

Sir John's report was the reverse of rea.s.suring, and they all felt the end was at hand. Dudley went to Holloway nearly every evening, and sometimes stayed until the middle of the night, to sit up with the sick man.

Hal went from the office in the afternoons, two or three days each week. When she was there the tenant from Flat G went home to s.n.a.t.c.h a short rest, in case a bad night lay ahead.

Ethel went quietly on her way, looking as if already a sorrow had wrapped her round before which human aid and human sympathy were powerless.

She went to the office as usual, and did her usual work, in nervous dread from hour to hour lest a telephone call should summon her in haste. She scarcely spoke to any one but Hal; and not very much to her; but it was evident in a thousand little ways that she liked to have her near.

With Dudley a new sort of coldness seemed to have sprung up. He was self-conscious ill at ease with her now; anxious to show his sympathy, yet made awkward by his self-sown notion that he was antagonistic to her. Ethel did not notice it very much. All her thoughts were with Basil.

Hal saw it and was troubled. She was afraid the slight misunderstanding might grow into a barrier that it would be extremely difficult to break down later on. However, she could only watch anxiously at present, and try in small ways to smooth out the growing difficulty.

Basil himself was the most consistently cheerful of all. He believed that he was near the end of his long martyrdom, and that in another sphere he would be given back his health and strength.

He had seemed very worried at first about Doris and Dudley, but gradually he became philosophical over it, and hoped the future would bring united happiness to Dudley and Ethel. He consigned her to Dudley's care and Hal's.