Читать книгу Rosa Mundi and Other Stories - Ethel M. Dell - Страница 12

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They ascended to the veranda still hand-in-hand. It was deserted.

Baring led her straight along it till he came to the two chairs outside the drawing-room window. They were empty. A servant had just lighted a lamp in the room behind them.

"Go in!" said Baring. "I will come back to you."

She obeyed him. She felt incapable of resistance just then. He passed on quietly, and she stood inside the room, waiting and listening with hushed breath and hands tightly clenched.

The seconds crawled by, and again there came to her straining ears the cry of a jackal from far away. Then at last she caught the sound of Baring's voice, curt and peremptory, and her heart stood still. But he was only speaking to the punkah-coolie round the corner, for almost instantly the great fan above her head began to move.

A few seconds more, and he reappeared at the window alone. Hope drew a great breath of relief and awoke to the fact that she was trembling violently.

She looked at him as he came quietly in. His lean, bronzed face, with the purple scar of a sword-cut down one cheek, told her nothing. Only she fancied that his mouth, under its narrow, black line of moustache, looked stern.

He went straight up to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.

"Tell me what frightened you!" he said, looking down at her with keen blue eyes that shone piercingly in his dark face.

She shook her head instantly, unable to meet his look.

"Please," she said beseechingly, "please don't ask me! I would so much rather not."

"I have promised not to laugh at you," he reminded her gravely.

"I know," she said. "I know. But really, really, I can't. It was so silly of me to be frightened. I am not generally silly like that. But—somehow—to-day—"

Her voice failed her. He took his hand from her shoulder; and she knew suddenly that, had he chosen, he could have compelled.

"Don't be distressed!" he said. "Whatever it was, it's gone. Sit down, won't you?"

Hope dropped rather limply into a chair. The security of Baring's protecting presence was infinitely comforting, but her fright and subsequent exertion had made her feel very weak. Baring went to the window and stood there for some seconds, with his back to her. She noted his height and breadth of shoulder with a faint sense of pleasure. She had always admired this man. Secretly—his habitual kindness to her notwithstanding—she was also a little afraid of him, but her fear did not trouble her just then.

He turned quietly at length and seated himself near the window.

"How long does your uncle expect to be away?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I never know; he may come back to-morrow, or perhaps not for days."

Baring's black brows drew together.

"Where is he?" he asked. She shook her head again.

He said nothing; but his silence was so condemnatory that she felt herself called upon to defend the absent one.

"You see, he came here in the first place because I begged so very hard. And he has to travel because of his book. I always knew that, so I really can't complain. Besides, I'm not generally lonely, and hardly ever nervous. And I have Ronnie."

"Ronnie!" said Baring; and for the first time he looked contemptuous.

Hope sighed.

"It's quite my own fault," she said humbly. "If I hadn't—"

"Pardon me! It is not your fault," he interrupted grimly. "It is iniquitous that a girl like you should be left in such a place as this entirely without protection. Have you a revolver?"

Hope looked startled.

"Oh, no!" she said. "If I had, I should never dare to use it, even if I knew how."

Baring looked at her, still frowning.

"I think you are braver than that," he said.

Hope flushed vividly, and rose.

"No," she said, a note of defiance in her voice. "I'm a miserable coward, Major Baring. But no one knows it but you and, perhaps, one other. So I hope you won't give me away."

Baring did not smile.

"Who else knows it?" he asked.

Hope met his eyes steadily. She was evidently resolved to be weak no longer.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" she said.

He did not answer her; and again she had a feeling that he was offended.

There was a considerable pause before he spoke again. He seemed to be revolving something in his mind. Then at last, abruptly, he began to talk upon ordinary topics, and at once she felt more at her ease with him. They sat by the window after that for the best part of an hour; till, in fact, the return of her brother put an end to their tête-à-tête.

By those who were least intimate with the Carteret twins it was often said that in feature they were exactly alike. Those who knew them better saw no more than a very strong resemblance in form and colouring, but it went no farther. In expression they differed utterly. The boy's face lacked the level-browed honesty that was so conspicuous in the girl's. His mouth was irresolute. His eyes were uncertain. Yet he was a good-looking boy, notwithstanding these defects. He had a pleasant laugh and winning manner, and was essentially kind-hearted, if swift to take offence.

He came in through the window, walking rather heavily, and halted just inside the room, blinking, as if the light dazzled him. Baring gave him a single glance that comprehended him from head to foot, and rose from his chair.

Again it seemed to Hope that she saw contempt upon his face; and a rush of indignation checked the quick words of welcome upon her lips.

Her brother spoke first, and his words sounded rather slurred, as if he had been running.

"Hullo!" he said. "Here you are! Don't get up! I expected to find you!"

He addressed Baring, who replied instantly, and with extreme emphasis:

"That I am sure you did not."

Ronnie started, and put his hand to his eyes as if confused.

"Beg pardon," he said, a moment later, in an odd tone of shame. "I thought it was Hyde. The light put me off. It—it's Major Baring, isn't it?"

"Yes; Baring." Baring repeated his own name deliberately; and, as by a single flash of revelation Hope understood the meaning of his contempt.

She stood as if turned to stone. She had often seen Ronnie curiously excited, even incoherently so, before that night, but she had never seen him like this. She had never imagined before for a single instant what now she abruptly knew without the shadow of a doubt.

A feeling that was like physical sickness came over her. She looked from Ronnie to Ronnie's major with a sort of piteous appeal. Baring turned gravely towards her.

"You will let me have a word alone with your brother?" he said quietly. "I was waiting to see him, as you know."

She felt that he had given her a definite command, and she obeyed it mutely, almost mechanically. He opened the door for her, and she went out in utter silence, sick at heart.