CHAPTER XI
THE STAR OF HOPE
There came the swift drumming of galloping hoofs, the check and pause ofa leap, and then close at hand the thud of those same hoofs landing onthe near side of the hedge. The rider slithered to the ground, patted theanimal's neck, and turned forthwith towards the hut. Avery heard noughtof his coming. She was crying like a weak, unnerved woman, draggled andmud-spattered, unspeakably distressed. It was so seldom that she gave waythat perhaps the failure of her self-control was the more absolute whenit came. She had been tried beyond her strength. Body and mind were alikeexhausted.
But when strong arms suddenly encircled her and she found herself drawnclose to a man's breast, quick and instinctive came the impulse toresist. She drew back from him with a sharp exclamation.
"It's only me," said Piers. "Surely you don't mind me!"
It was naively expressed, so naively that she assayed to laugh in themidst of her woe. "Oh, how you startled me!" was all she found to say.
"But surely you knew I was coming back!" he said.
The dogged note was in his voice. It embarrassed her subtly. Seeing hisface through the deepening gloom, it seemed to her to be set in stern,unyielding lines.
She collected her scattered forces, and gently put his arms away fromher. "It was very kind of you, Mr. Evesham," she said. "But pleaseremember that I'm not Jeanie!"
He made an impulsive movement of impatience. "I never pretended youwere," he said gruffly. "But you were crying, weren't you? Why wereyou crying?"
His tone was almost aggressive. He seemed to be angry, but whether withher, himself, or a third person, Avery could not determine.
She decided that the situation demanded firmness, and proceeded to treatit accordingly.
"I was very foolish to cry," she said. "I have quite recovered now, soplease forget it! It was very kind of you to take my part a little whileago--especially as you couldn't have been really in sympathy with me.Thank you very much!"
Again he made that gesture of imperious impatience. "Oh, don't be sobeastly formal! I can't stand it. If it had been any other manthreatening you, I believe I should have killed him!"
He spoke with concentrated passion, but Avery was resolved not to betragic. She was striving to get back to wholesome commonplace.
"What a good thing it wasn't!" she said. "I shouldn't have cared to havebeen responsible for that. I had quite enough to answer for as it was. Ihope you will make peace with your grandfather as soon as possible."
Piers laughed a savage laugh. "He broke his whip over me. Do you thinkI'm going to make peace with him for that?"
"Oh, Piers!" she exclaimed in distress.
It was out before she could check it--that involuntary use of hisChristian name for which it seemed to her afterwards he had beendeliberately lying in wait.
He did not take immediate advantage of her slip, but she knew that henoticed it, registered it as it were for future reference.
"No," he said moodily, after a pause. "I don't think the debt is on myside this time. He had the satisfaction of flogging me with the wholeHunt looking on." There was sullen resentment in his tone, and then verysuddenly to Avery's amazement he began to laugh. "It was worth it anyway,so we won't cavil about the price. How much longer are you going tobottle up that unfortunate brute? Don't you think it's time he went hometo his wife?"
Avery moved away from the shutter against which she had stood so long. "Icouldn't let him be killed," she said. "You won't understand, of course.But I simply couldn't."
"Why shouldn't I understand?" said Piers. "You threw that in my teethbefore. I don't know why."
His tone baffled her. She could not tell whether he spoke in jest orearnest. She refrained from answering him, and in the silence thatfollowed he lifted the shutter away from the hut entrance and lookedinside. Avery's basket of purchases lay at his feet. He picked it up."Come along! He's crouched up in the corner, and his eyes look as if hethought all the devils in hell were after him. Odd as it may seem to you,I can understand his feelings--and yours. Let's go, and leave him toescape in peace!"
He took her arm as naturally as though he had a right, and led heraway. Her basket was in his other hand in which he carried hisriding-whip also. He whistled over his shoulder to his horse whofollowed him like a dog.
The rain was gradually ceasing, but the clouds had wholly closed upon thesunset. Avery did not want to walk in silence, but somehow she could nothelp it. His hold upon her arm was as light as a feather, but she couldnot help that either for the moment. She walked as one beneath a spell.
And before them the clouds slowly parted, and again there shone thatsingle, magic star, dazzingly pure against the darkness.
"Do you see that?" said Piers suddenly.
She assented almost under her breath.
For a moment she was conscious of the tightening of his hand at herelbow. "It's the Star of Hope, Avery," he whispered. "Yours--and mine."He stopped with the words. "Don't say anything!" he said hurriedly."Pretend you didn't hear, if--if you wish you hadn't. Goodbye!"
He thrust her basket into her hand, and turned from her.
A moment he stood as if to give her the opportunity of detaining himif she so desired, and then as she made no sign he went to his horsewho waited a couple of yards away, mounted, and without word or saluterode away.
Avery drew a deep, deep breath and walked on. There was a curioussensation at her heart--almost a trapped feeling--such as she had neverbefore experienced. Again deeply she drew her breath, as if to ridherself of some oppression. Life was difficult--life was difficult!
But presently, as she walked, the sense of oppression lessened. Sheeven faintly smiled to herself. What an odd, passionate youth he was!It was impossible to be angry with him; better far not to take himseriously at all.
She recalled old Mrs. Marshall's dour remarks concerning him;--"broughtup by men from his cradle," brought up, moreover, by that terrible oldSir Beverley on the one hand and an irresponsible French valet on theother. She caught herself wishing that she had had the upbringing of him,and smiled again. There was a great deal of sweetness in his nature; ofthat she was sure, and because of it she found she could forgive hiswaywardness, reflecting that he had probably been mismanaged from hisearliest infancy.
At this point she reached the high-road, and heard the wheels of adog-cart behind her. She recognized the quick, hard trot of the doctor'scob, and paused at the side of the road to let him pass. But the doctor'seyes behind their glasses were keen as a hawk's. He recognized her, thedeepening dusk notwithstanding, while he was still some yards from her,and pulled in his horse to a walk.
"Jump up!" he said. "I'm going your way."
He reached down a hand to her, and Avery mounted beside him. "How luckyfor me!" she said.
"Tired, eh?" he questioned.
She laughed a little. "Oh no, not really. But it's nice to get a lift.Were you coming to see Jeanie?"
"Yes," said Tudor briefly.
She glanced at him, caught by something in his tone. "Dr. Tudor," shesaid, after a moment's hesitation, "are you--altogether--satisfiedabout her?"
Tudor was looking at his horse's ears; for some reason he was holding theanimal in to a walk. "I am quite satisfied with regard to the fracture,"he said. "She will soon be on her legs again."
His words were deliberately wary. Avery felt a little tremor ofapprehension go through her.
"I'm afraid you don't consider her very strong," she said uneasily.
He did not at once reply. She had a feeling that he was debating withinhimself as to the advisability of replying at all. And then quitesuddenly he turned his head and spoke. "Mrs. Denys, you are accustomed tohearing other people's burdens, so I may as well tell you the truth. Ican't say--because I don't know--if there is anything radically wrongwith that little girl; but she has no stamina whatever. If she had tocontend with anything serious, things would go very badly with her. Inany case--" he paused.
"Yes?" said Avery.
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Tudor had become wary again. "Perhaps I have said enough," he said.
"I don't know why you should hesitate to speak quite openly," sherejoined steadily. "As you say, I am a bearer of burdens. And I don'tthink I am easily frightened."
"I am sure you are not," he said. "If I may be allowed to say so, I thinkyou are essentially a woman to be relied on. If I did not think so, Icertainly should not have spoken as I have done."
"Then will you tell me what it is that you fear for her?" Avery said.
He was looking straight at her through the gloom, but she could not seehis eyes behind their glasses. "Well," he said somewhat brusquely atlength, "to be quite honest, I fear--mind you, I only fear--some trouble,possibly merely some delicacy, of the lungs. Without a carefulexamination I cannot speak definitely. But I think there is little roomfor doubt that the tendency is there."
"I see," Avery said. She was silent a moment; then, "You have notconsidered it advisable to say this to her father?" she said.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Would it make any difference?"
Avery was silent.
He went on with gathering force. "I went to him once, Mrs. Denys,--onceonly--about his wife's health. I told him in plain language that sheneeded every care, every consideration, that without these she wouldprobably lose all her grip on life and become a confirmed invalid withshattered nerves. I was very explicit. I told him the straight,unvarnished truth. I didn't like my job, but I felt it must be done. Andhe--good man--laughed in my face, begged me to croak no more, and assuredme that he was fully capable of managing all his affairs, including hiswife and family, in his own way. He was touring in Switzerland when thelast child was born."
"Hound!" said Avery, in a low voice.
Tudor uttered a brief laugh, and abruptly quitted the subject. "Thatlittle girl needs very careful watching, Mrs. Denys. She should never beallowed to overtire herself, mentally or physically. And if she shoulddevelop any untoward symptom, for Heaven's sake don't hesitate to sendfor me! I shan't blame you for being too careful."
"I understand," Avery said.
He flicked his horse's ears, and the animal broke into a trot.
When Tudor spoke again, it was upon a totally different matter. His voicewas slightly aggressive as he said: "That Evesham boy seems to be forever turning up at the Vicarage now. He's an ill-mannered cub. I wonderyou encourage him."
"Do I encourage him?" Avery asked.
He made a movement of irritation. "He would scarcely be such a constantvisitor if you didn't."
Avery smiled faintly and not very humorously in the darkness. "It isJeanie he comes to see," she observed.
"Oh, obviously." Tudor's retort was so ironical as to be almost rude.
She received it in silence, and after a moment he made a half-grudgingamendment.
"He never showed any interest in Jeanie before, you know. I don't thinkshe is the sole attraction."
"No?" said Avery.
Her response was perfectly courteous, but so vague that it sounded toLennox Tudor as if she were thinking of something else. He clenched hishand hard upon the handle of his whip.
"People tolerate him for the sake of his position," he said bitterly."But to my mind he is insufferable. His father was a scapegrace, aseveryone knows. His mother was a circus girl. And his grandmother--anItalian--was divorced by Sir Beverley before they had been marriedtwo years."
"Oh!" Avery emerged from her vagueness and turned towards him. "LadyEvesham was Italian, was she? That accounts for his appearance, doesn'tit? That air of the old Roman patrician about him; you must havenoticed it?"
"He's handsome enough," admitted Tudor.
"Oh, very handsome," said Avery. "I should say that for that type hisface was almost faultless. I wondered where he got it from. Sir Beverleyis patrician too, but in a different way." She stopped to bow to a tall,gaunt lady at the side of the road. "That is Miss Whalley. Didn't you seeher? I expect she has just come from the Vicarage. She was going todiscuss the scheme for the Christmas decorations with the Vicar."
"She's good at scheming," growled Tudor.
Avery became silent again. At the Vicarage gates however very suddenlyand sweetly she spoke. "Dr. Tudor, forgive me,--but isn't it rather apity to let oneself get intolerant? It does spoil life so."
He looked at her. "There's not much in my life that could spoil," hesaid gloomily.
She laughed a little, but not derisively. "But there's always something,isn't there? Have you no sense of humour?"
He pulled up at the Vicarage gates. "I have a sense of the ridiculous,"he said bluntly. "And I detest it in the person of Miss Whalley."
"I believe you detest a good many people," Avery said, as she descended.
He laughed himself at that. "But I am capable of appreciating the few,"he said. "Mind the step! And don't trouble to wait for me! I've got totie this animal up."
He stopped to do so, and Avery opened the gate and walked slowlyup the path.
At the porch she paused to await him, and turned her face for a moment tothe darkening sky. But the Star of Hope was veiled.