CHAPTER VII
THE UNINVITED GUEST
Spring came early that year, and the day fixed for the opening of theBaronford Town Hall was brilliantly fine and warm. Anne was staying atBaronmead for the event. The end of February was approaching. Lucas wasdecidedly better. His sleep was becoming less broken. He sufferedconsiderably less; and he took a keen interest in all that passed.
On the morning before the ceremony he greeted Anne with an eagernessthat almost amounted to impatience. "Come in! Come in! I've something toshow you."
He was alone. She went to his side and kissed him.
His hands caught hers, and she marvelled at the strength of his grip."Sweetheart," he said, "I've had a letter from Capper."
She felt the blood ebb suddenly from her face. She stood a moment insilence, then sat down and pressed his hand close against her heart.
"What does he say?" she asked.
He looked at her oddly for a few seconds. Then: "It's good news, dear,"he said. "You mustn't let it scare you."
She began to smile, though her lips were trembling. "No, of course not.Tell me what he says."
He gave her the letter and she read. Capper wrote that he had received anexcellent report from Dr. Randal of his patient's progress, that heexpected to be in England in about a fortnight and would come downhimself to ascertain if the time for the second operation had arrived. Hewrote in a cheery strain, and at the end of the letter was a postscript:"Have you taken my advice yet with regard to _la femme_?"
"An ancient joke," explained Lucas with a smile. "He told me long agothat I should need a woman's help to pull me through. And"--his voicedropped--"I guess he was right."
The colour came back to her face. She pressed his hand without speaking.
"I shouldn't be here now but for you, Anne," he said, his blue eyeswatching her. "I sometimes think it must have been a mortal strain uponyou. Have you felt it so very badly, I wonder?"
She met his look with eyes grown misty. "Luke--my dearest--you have donefar greater things for me. You have kept me from starvation. You have noidea what you are to me."
The words came brokenly. She checked a sudden sob and, rising, moved tothe window.
Lucas lay silent, but his eyes watched her with a great tenderness.
When she came back to him she was smiling. "Have you ever begun to thinkof what you will do when you are well?" she said.
"I am thinking of it always," he answered. "I make wonderful pictures formyself sometimes. You are the central figure of them all."
She clasped his hand again in hers. "Lucas," she said, "will youtake me away?"
"Yes, dear," he said.
"Far away from anywhere I have ever been before?" Her voice shook alittle. "I want to begin life over again where everything is new."
A certain shrewdness gleamed in the steady eyes that watched her, but itwas mingled with the utmost kindness.
"I guess I'd better show you my best picture right now," he said. "It'sgot a steam yacht in it, and a state cabin fit for a queen. And it goesrocking around the world, looking for the Happy Islands. I guess we shallfind them some day, sweetheart--maybe sooner than we think."
"Ah, yes," she said. "We won't stop looking till we do. How soon shall westart, Luke?"
He answered her with a smile, but there was a thrill of deep feeling inhis words. "Just as soon as I can stand on my feet like any other man,Anne, and hold the woman I love in my arms."
She bent her face suddenly, pressing her cheek to the hand she held. "Iam ready for you when ever you will," she murmured.
"I know it," he said. "And God bless you for telling me so!"
He was full of kindness to her that day, and she thought him cheerierthan he had been all the winter. When she bade him good-bye thatafternoon he seemed in excellent spirits. Yet after she was gone he layfor a long while staring at the specks of dust that danced in a shaft ofsunlight, with the air of a man seeking the solution of a problem thatbaffled him. And once very suddenly he sighed.
Anne went through the ordeal of publicity with less embarrassment thanshe had anticipated. Mrs. Errol was with her, and she was surrounded byfriends. Even Major Shirley deigned to look upon her with a favourableeye. Bertie was hunting, but Dot was present to view the finalachievement of her favourite scheme.
She seized the first opportunity to slip her arm through Anne's. "Do--docome home with me to tea," she whispered very urgently. "I want to showyou some things I have been making. And make the dear mater come too, ifsomeone else doesn't snap her up first."
But the dear mater was already snapped up, and Anne had some difficultyin avoiding a like fate.
Eventually, however, she succeeded in making her escape, and she and Dotdrove back to the Dower House, congratulating themselves.
"I am lucky to get you all to myself," Dot said. "And do you know, dearLady Carfax, you are looking simply lovely to-day?"
Anne smiled a little. She had discarded her widow's veil for the firsttime, and she felt like a woman emerging from a long imprisonment. Peoplewould call it premature, she knew. Doubtless they were already discussingher not too charitably. But after all, why should she consider them? Thewinter was past and over, and the gold of the coming spring was alreadydawning. Why should she mourn? Were not all regrets put away for ever?
"I wish you would call me Anne, Dot," she said.
"To be sure I will," said Dot, with shining eyes. "I never liked the namebefore I knew you. And now I love it."
There was something wonderfully genuine and childlike about Dot, ayouthfulness that would probably cling to her all her life. Anne drew heron to speak of herself and her coming happiness, which she did with thatcheery simplicity of hers that had first drawn Bertie to her.
"He makes a tremendous fuss," she said, displaying Bertie's favouritedimple at the thought. "I don't, you know. I somehow feel it's going tobe all right. But it's rather nice being petted for months together. Ihaven't had a tantrum for ages. I'm afraid I'm getting spoilt."
At which piece of logic Anne could not repress a smile.
"He won't be home to tea," said Dot, when they finally turned in at theDower House. "He stables his hunters at Baronmead, and he is sure to goin and see Luke. So we shall have it all to ourselves. I'm so glad, for Ihave been wanting your advice for days. I wonder if anyone has been.Hullo! Bertie's back after all!"
A glow of firelight met them from the little square hall as theyentered, and a smell of cigarette smoke mingled with the scent from theburning logs.
Dot stood back for her guest to precede her, but Anne stoodsuddenly still.
"Hullo!" said Dot again.
A slim, straight figure was standing outlined against the firelight. Dotstared as she stepped forward.
"Why--Nap!" she said incredulously.
He made a swift, elastic movement to meet her, caught her hands, laughed,and kissed her.
"Why--Dot!" he said.
Dot continued to stare. "Good gracious!" she said.
And in the doorway Anne stood like a statue, the soft spring duskbehind her.
"My sister seems surprised," said Nap. "I hope I haven't come at anunlucky moment."
He did not even glance towards the silent figure in the doorway. It wasas if he had not observed it.
"I am surprised," said Dot. "Hugely surprised. But I'm very glad to seeyou," she added. "When did you come?"
"I have been here about half an hour," he told her coolly. "I went to theRectory first, where I learned for the first time of your marriage. Youforgot to mention that detail when you wrote. Hence my brotherly salute,which you must have missed on your wedding-day!"
At this point Dot remembered her other guest, and turned with flushedcheeks. "Lady Carfax--Anne--you--you know my brother-in-law Nap?"
The pleading in her voice was unmistakable. She was evidently agitated,wholly at a loss how to manage a most difficult situation.
But Nap hastened to relieve her of the responsibility. He had dealtwith difficult
situations before. He went straight to Anne and stoodbefore her.
"Are you going to know me, Lady Carfax?" he asked.
There was no arrogance in voice or bearing as he uttered the question. Helooked as if he expected to be dismissed, as if he were ready at a wordto turn and go. His eyes were lowered. His foot was already on thethreshold.
But Anne stood speechless and rigid. For those few seconds she was as onestricken with paralysis. She knew that if she moved or tried to speak shewould faint.
She wondered desperately how long it would be before he looked up, ifperhaps he would go without looking at her, or if--ah, he was speakingagain! His words reached her as from an immense distance. At the sameinstant his hands came to her out of a surging darkness that hid allthings, grasping, sustaining, compelling. She yielded to them, scarcelyknowing what she did.
"Lady Carfax has been overtiring herself," she heard him say. "Have youany brandy at hand?"
"Oh, dear Lady Carfax!" cried Dot in distress. "Make her sit down, Nap.Here is a cushion. Yes, I'll go and get some."
Guided by those steady hands, Anne sank into a chair, and therethe constriction that bound her began to pass. She shivered fromhead to foot.
Nap stooped over her and chafed her icy hands. He did not look at her orspeak. When Dot came back, he took the glass from her and held it veryquietly to the quivering lips.
She drank, responsive to his unspoken insistence, and as she did so, fora single instant she met his eyes. They were darkly inscrutable and gaveher no message of any sort. She might have been accepting help from atotal stranger.
"No more, please!" she whispered, and he took the glass away.
The front door was still open. He drew it wider, and the evening air blewin across her face. Somewhere away in the darkness a thrush was warblingsoftly. Nap stood against the door and waited. Dot knelt beside her,holding her hand very tightly.
"I am better," Anne said at last. "Forgive me, dear child. I suppose ithas been--too much for me."
"My dear, dear Anne!" said Dot impulsively. "Would you like to come intothe drawing-room? There is tea there. But of course we will have it hereif you prefer it."
"No," Anne said. "No. We will go to the drawing-room."
She prepared to rise, and instantly Nap stepped forward. But he did notoffer to touch her. He only stood ready.
When he saw that she had so far recovered herself as to be able to movewith Dot's assistance, he dropped back.
"I am going, Dot," he said. "You will do better without me. I will lookin again later."
And before Dot could agree or protest he had stepped out into thedeepening twilight and was gone.