CHAPTER XVIII
One evening, some ten days later, before any rumour of LadySellingworth's new decision had gone about in the world of London,before even Braybrooke knew, on coming home from the Foreign OfficeCraven found a note lying on the table in the tiny hall of his flat. Hepicked it up and saw Miss Van Tuyn's handwriting. He had not seen eitherher or Lady Sellingworth since the evening when they had met in the_Bella Napoli_. Both women had come into his life together. And itseemed to him that both had gone out of it together. His acquaintance,or friendship, with them had been a short episode in his pilgrimage, andapparently the episode was definitely over.
But now--here was a letter from the beautiful girl! He took it up,carried it into his sitting-room, and tore open the envelope.
"CLARIDGE'S.
"Thursday.
"MY DEAR MR. CRAVEN,--I am going back to Paris almost directly andshould very much like to see you if possible to say good-bye. Have you afew minutes to spare any time? If so, do come round to the hotel and letus have a last little talk.--Yours sincerely,
"BERYL VAN TUYN."
When he had read this brief note Craven was struck, as he had beenstruck when he had read Lady Sellingworth's letter to him, by a certainfinality in the wording. Good-bye--a last little talk! Miss Van Tuynmight have put "au revoir," might have omitted the word "last."
He looked at the clock. It was not very late--only half-past five. Hedecided to go at once to the hotel. And he went. Miss Van Tuyn was athome. He went up in the lift and was shown into her sitting-room. Hewaited there for a few minutes. Then the door opened and she came insmiling.
"How good of you to come so soon! I hardly expected you."
"But--why not?" he said, as he took her hand.
She glanced at him inquiringly, he thought, then said:
"Oh, I don't know! You're a busy man, and have lots of engagements. Letus sit by the fire."
"Yes."
They sat down, and there was a moment of silence. For once Miss Van Tuynseemed slightly embarrassed--not quite at her ease. Craven did not helpher. He still remembered the encounter in Glebe Place with a feeling ofanger. He still felt that he moved in a certain darkness, that both LadySellingworth and Miss Van Tuyn had been unkind to him, had treated himif not badly, at any rate in a way that was unfriendly, and, to him,inexplicable. He did not want to seem hurt, but, on the other hand,he did not feel that it was incumbent upon him to rush forward withgracious eagerness, or to show any keen desire for the old, intimaterelations. So he just sat there trying not to look stiff, but not makingany effort to look charming and sympathetic.
"Have you seen Adela lately?" Miss Van Tuyn said at last, breaking thesilence.
"No," he said. "Not since the night when we met in the _Bella Napoli_."
"Oh, that's too bad!"
"Why too bad?"
"I thought you were such friends!"
"Scarcely that, I think," replied Craven, in his most definitely Englishmanner. "I like Lady Sellingworth very much, but she has swarms offriends, and I can't expect her to bother very much about me."
"But I don't think she has swarms of friends."
"Perhaps nobody does. Still, she knows a tremendous number of people."
"I am sure she likes you," said Miss Van Tuyn. "Do go and see hersometimes. I think--I think she would appreciate it."
"No doubt I shall see her again. Why not?"
"Don't you like her anymore?"
"Of course I do."
Suddenly she leaned forward, almost impulsively, and said:
"You remember I had a sort of cult for Adela?"
"Did you?"
"But you know I had! Well, I only want to tell you that it isn't a cultnow. I have got to know Adela better, to know her really. I used toadmire her as a great lady. Now I love her as a splendid woman. She'srare. That is the word for her. Once--not long ago--I was talking to aman who knows what people are. And he summed Adela up in a phrase. Hesaid she was a thoroughbred. We young ones--modern, I suppose we are--wecan learn something from her. I have learnt something. Isn't that anadmission? For the young generation to acknowledge that it has somethingto learn from--from what are sometimes called the 'has beens'!"
Craven looked at her and noticed with surprise that her violet eyes wereclouded for a moment, as if some moisture had found its way intothem. Perhaps she saw that look of his. For she laughed, changed theconversation, and from that moment talked in her usual lively wayabout less intimate topics. But when Craven presently got up to go shereturned for a moment to her former more serious mood. As he took herhand to say good-bye she said:
"Perhaps we shall meet again--perhaps not. I don't know when I shallbe back in London. I'm soon going over to America with Fanny. But don'tthink too badly of me."
"I? How could I think badly of you?"
"Oh, yes--you might! There are things I can't explain which may easilyhave given you a nasty impression of me. If I could explain them perhapsyou would remember me more pleasantly. Anyhow, I shall always think ofyou as one of my _friends_. Good-bye."
And then she moved away, and he went to the door.
But just as he was going he turned round and said:
"Au revoir!"
She made a little kind gesture with her left hand, but she said nothing.
At that moment she was thinking of Adela.
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