V
The prince, who had just been joined by Stephen, had descended from hiscar and was waiting in the road when Louise and John approached. He camea few paces forward to meet her, and held out both his hands.
"My dear wandering guest!" he exclaimed. "So I have found you at last!What shall I say to this mishap which has robbed me of so many hours ofyour visit? I am too happy, though, to know that you have suffered nopersonal inconvenience."
"Thanks to the great kindness of my hosts," Louise replied, smiling alittle mockingly at Stephen, "I have been completely spoiled here,prince, and I can only regard my accident as a delightful littleinterlude."
The prince bowed, and half held out his hand to Stephen. The latter,however appeared not to notice the movement.
"I shall always remember with gratitude," the prince declared, "thekindness of Mr. Strangewey and his brother to my lost guest. I fear," hewent on regretfully, "that I do not seem very neighborly. I am not oftenat Raynham Castle, except in August and September. I find your northernair somewhat too severe for me."
"Your tenants, prince," Stephen remarked calmly, "would like to see alittle more of you."
The prince shrugged his shoulders. He was a man of medium height,slender, with a long and almost colorless face. He carried himself withthe good-humored air of the man of the world among strange surroundingstoward which he desired to express his toleration. His clothes and voicewere perfectly English, although the latter was unusually slow and soft.At first sight there was no apparent evidence of his foreign birth. Heturned once more toward Stephen.
"My agent, Mr. Simon, is a very excellent man, and I have everyconfidence in his discretion. My tenants here could scarcely feel towardme as they might have done if Raynham had come into my possession in thedirect line. However, this year, as it happens, I have made up my mindto spend more time here. My keepers tell me that after four bad seasonsthe prospects for grouse on my higher moors are excellent. I shallhope," he added, turning to John, "to have you join us often. I mustconfess that the only time I had ever heard your name, before thenewspapers advertised your recent good fortune, was in connection withshooting. They tell me that you are the best shot and the finesthorseman in Cumberland."
"You were probably told that at Raynham," John remarked. "Our peoplealways exaggerate the prowess of their own folk, and my brother and Iare natives."
"I trust," the prince concluded, "that you will give me the opportunityof judging for myself. And now, dear lady," he went on, turning toLouise, "I am loath to lose another minute of my promised visit. I havetaken the liberty of telling your maid to place your wraps in my car. Wecan reach Raynham in time for a late lunch. Your own car can follow usand bring your maid."
For a moment Louise did not reply. The prince had moved a few stepsaway, to give some directions to his chauffeur, and he saw nothing ofthe strange look of indecision that had suddenly crept into her face.Her eyebrows were contracted. She had turned, and was gazing up theprecipitous strip of moorland toward the gray-walled church. Then sheglanced at John Strangewey, and her eyes seemed filled with thequestioning of a child. It was as if she had abandoned the role ofmentor, as if she herself were seeking for guidance or help.
John's unspoken response was prompt and unmistakable; and she smiledever so slightly. She no longer thought him narrow and prejudiced, anunfair judge of things beyond his comprehension. He had helped her in amoment of trial. An idea had flashed between them, and she acted upon itwith amazing promptitude.
"Alas, prince," she sighed, as he turned back toward them, "I am sosorry, but I fear that this little accident must change all my plans! Asyou know, mine was to have been only a brief stay at Raynham, and I fearnow that even that is impossible."
The prince drew a step nearer. Something of the calm suavity hadsuddenly gone from his manner. When he spoke, his measured words werefull of appeal.
"But, my dear friend," he begged, "you will not rob me altogether ofthis visit, to which I have looked forward so eagerly? It was to receiveyou for a few hours that I came from Paris and opened Raynham Castle.You yourself shall decide the length of your stay, and a special trainshall take you back to London the moment you give the word. In that wayyou will both save time and spare me--one of the greatestdisappointments of my life!"
She shook her head, slowly and very decisively.
"You cannot imagine how sorry I am, prince," she said, "but as it is Imust take a special train from Kendal, if there is not one startingsoon after I reach the station. I wish to reach London either thisevening or very early in the morning."
The prince was holding himself in restraint with a visible effort. Hiseyes were fixed upon Louise's face, as if trying to read her thoughts.
"Is the necessity so urgent?" he asked.
"Judge for yourself," she replied. "Henri Graillot is there, waiting forme. You know how impatient he is, and all London is clamoring for hisplay. Night to him is just the same as day. I shall telegraph fromKendal the hour of my arrival."
The prince sighed.
"I think," he said quietly, "that I am the most unfortunate man in theworld! At least, then, you will permit me to drive you to Kendal? Igather from your chauffeur that your car, although temporarily repaired,is not altogether reliable."
She answered him only after a slight hesitation. For some reason orother, his proposition did not seem wholly welcome.
"That will be very kind of you," she assented.
"If we start at once," the prince suggested, "we shall catch the Scotchmail."
"You will surely lunch first--and you, prince?" John begged.
She laid her hand upon his arm.
"My friend, no," she replied. "I am feverishly anxious to get back toLondon. Walk with me to the car. I will wave my adieus to Peak Hall whenwe are up among the hills."
She drew him on a few paces ahead.
"I am going back to London," she continued, lowering her voice a little,"with some very strange impressions and some very pleasant memories. Ifeel that your life here is, in its way, very beautiful, and yet thecontemplation of your future fills me with an immense curiosity. I havenot talked to you for very long, Mr. Strangewey, and you may not bequite the sort of person I think you are, but I am seldom mistaken. I aman artist, you see, and we have perceptions. I think that even here thetime will come when the great unrest will seize you, too, in its toils.Though the color may not fade from your hills, and though theapple-blossom may still glorify your orchard, and your flowers bloom andsmell as sweetly, and your winds bring you the same music, I think thatthe time will come when the note in you which answers to these things,and which gives you contentment, will fail to respond. Then I think--Ihope, perhaps--that we may meet."
She spoke very softly, almost under her breath, and when she hadfinished there seemed everywhere a strange emptiness of sound. Thepanting of the engine from the motor-car, Stephen's measured words as hewalked with his uncongenial companion, seemed to come to John from someother world.
His voice, when he spoke, sounded a little harsh. Although he wasdenying it fiercely to himself, he was filled with a dim, harrowingconsciousness that the struggle had already begun. Notwithstanding theunrealized joy of these few hours, his last words to Louise were almostwords of anger; his last look from beneath his level, close-drawneyebrows was almost militant.
"I hope," he declared, "that what you have said may not be true. I hopefervently that the time may never come when I shall feel that I needanything more in life than I can find in the home I love, in the workwhich is second nature to me, in my books and my sports!"
The prince, escaping gracefully from a companion who remained adamant toall his advances, had maneuvered his way to their side. The last fewsteps were taken together. In a few moments they were in the car andready to start. Stephen, with a stiff little bow, had already departed.Louise leaned out from her place with outstretched hands.
"And now good-by, dear Mr. Strangewey! Your brother w
ould not let memake my little speech to him, so you must accept the whole of my thanks.And," she went on, the corners of her mouth twitching a little, althoughher face remained perfectly grave, "if the time should come when theneed of reinvestments, or of some new machinery for your farm, bringsyou to London, will you promise that you will come and see me?"
"I will promise that with much pleasure," John answered.
She leaned back and the prince took her place, holding out his hand.
"Mr. Strangewey, although your luck has been better than mine, and youhave robbed me of a visit to which I had looked forward for months, Ibear you no ill-will. I trust that you will do me the honor of shootingwith me before long. My head keeper arranges for the local guns, and Ishall see that he sends you a list of the days on which we shall shoot.May I beg that you will select the most convenient to yourself? If youhave no car here, it will give me additional pleasure to welcome you atRaynham as my guest."
John, struggling against an instinctive dislike of which, for manyreasons, he was a little ashamed, murmured a few incoherent words. Theprince leaned back and the car glided away, followed, a few minuteslater, by Louise's own landaulet, with Aline in solitary state inside.
John watched the little procession until it finally disappeared fromsight; then he turned on his heel and went into the house. Stephen, whohad just filled a pipe, was smoking furiously in the hall.
"Have they gone?" he demanded.
John nodded.
"They are racing into Kendal to catch the Scotchman for London."
"The sooner she gets there, the better," Stephen growled.
John raised his head. The light of battle flashed for a moment in hiseyes.
"She came here unbidden," he said, "and we did no more than our boundenduty in entertaining her. For the rest, what is there that you can sayagainst her? Women there must be in the world. Why do you judge thosewho come your way so harshly?"
Stephen withdrew the pipe from his mouth and dealt the black oak tablein front of him a blow with his great fist. Even John himself was struckwith the sudden likeness of his brother's face to the granite rockswhich were piled around their home.
"I'll answer your question, John," he said. "I'll tell you the truth asI see it and as I know it. Women there must be to breed men's sons, tocare for their households; even, I grant you, to be their companions andto lighten the dark days when sorrow comes. But she isn't that sort. Sheis as far removed from them as our mountain road is from the scentedthoroughfares of Bond Street or the Rue de la Paix, where she might takeher daily exercise. I'll tell you about her, John. She is one of thosewho have sown the hatred of women in my heart. Do you know what I callthem, John? I call them witch-women. There's something of the devil intheir blood. They call themselves artists. They have the gift of turningthe heads and spoiling the lives of sober, well-living men, till theymake them dance to their bidding along the ways of shame, and turn theiruseful lives into the dotage of a love-sick boy. They aren'tchild-bearing women, that sort! They don't want to take their properplace in your household by your side, breed sons and daughters for you,sink their own lives in the greater duties of motherhood. There'sgenerally a drop of devilish foreign blood in their veins, as she has.Our grandmother had it. You know the result. The empty frame in thelumber-room will tell you."
John, half angry, half staggered by his brother's vehemence, was for themoment a little confused.
"There may be women like that, Stephen," he confessed. "I am not denyingthe truth of much that you say. But what right have you to class heramong them? What do you know of her?"
"It's written in her face," Stephen answered fiercely. "Women like herbreathe it from their lips when they speak, just as it shines out oftheir eyes when they look at you. An actress, and a friend of the Princeof Seyre! A woman who thought it worth her while, during her few hours'stay here--" John had suddenly straightened himself. Stephen clenchedhis teeth. "Curse it, that's enough!" he said. "She's gone, anyway.Come, let's have our lunch!"