Читать книгу Where Three Roads Meet - Ethel M. Dell - Страница 11

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When Molly opened her eyes again, she was lying on a couch in a strange bedroom and Ivor was bending over her. His look was full of kindly concern.

“Ah, that’s better,” he said as she recognized him. “I’m afraid it has all been rather too much for you. I think you had better go to bed.”

Her eyes travelled nervously all round the room and she realized that they were alone. “Oh, Ivor!” she said, gasping a little. “Let me—let me see—my darling Rollo!”

She thought his brow contracted, but he smiled a moment later, and she was reassured. “Yes, dear, yes. Certainly you shall see him,” he said. “He is probably asleep, but you shall satisfy yourself as soon as you are fit.”

“I’m fit now,” she protested, sitting up. “May I go now?”

He put a supporting arm about her. “We will go together, dear. But you really must not upset yourself like this over nothing at all. It’s unreasonable. It’s wrong.”

The rebuke, gentle as it was, recalled her very fully to the state of subservience upon which she had that day entered. She bent her head. “I’m very sorry. I don’t mean to be silly. It’s only that—that——” Somehow she found that she could say no more. The mother-hunger within seemed to deprive her of the power to explain. Moreover, she was quite certain that no words could make him understand.

She stood up rather unsteadily, and he kept his arm about her. “I’m coming with you,” he said. “And then you will come straight back here and go to bed. I have ordered dinner to be brought up. You are not fit to go down again.”

If she had not been so possessed by the longing for Rollo she would have been grateful for this act of consideration on his part. As it was, she hardly noticed it.

“Shall we go?” she suggested nervously.

He led her across the palatial room which in her preoccupation she scarcely saw, and out into a long corridor.

“He’s very far away,” she murmured as they passed down it. “I shall never hear if he cries.”

Ivor made no rejoinder, but somehow she knew that this was a circumstance which he would regard as an advantage rather than a drawback. She would have hastened her steps, but his arm and his leisurely tread restrained her. When they arrived at the nursery at length she was in a state of quivering impatience, but he was imperturbably calm.

And Rollo was asleep, with a glaze of tears on his face and his chubby hands still clenched as if in some desperate bout with Fate.

“He’s been crying—my precious!” whispered Molly, hanging over him.

“Yes’m—my lady, I mean. I couldn’t quiet him for ever so long,” whispered back Rose whom they had found on guard. “But he’s as happy as anything now, and I’ll be here when he wakes.”

“It’s me he’ll want,” said Molly in low, wrung tones. “And he always wakes early.” Suddenly her own tears were running down her cheeks.

The restraining arm drew her gently back. Ivor’s voice spoke in her ear. “We won’t wake him. It would be a pity. Come, dear, he’s quite all right now. You can see him in the morning as soon as you get up. He’ll be as merry as a lark then.”

“I must kiss him,” she said, and almost wrenched herself from the possessive hold. “It won’t wake him. He’s much too tired, poor little darling.”

But the quiet hand closed upon her again the moment she had accomplished her desire. “Now we will leave him,” said Ivor. “And you must go to bed yourself. Yes, dear, I insist. Come! Can you walk? Or shall I carry you again?”

She was compelled to resign herself; they returned as they had come.

All her humble belongings had been transferred to the palatial bedroom, and he left her there to undress, refusing her plea to be allowed to sit up for dinner.

She was too tired and dispirited to protest very strongly. She felt as one caught in the Wheel of Life and compelled. There was no turning back, no postponement or extrication possible. Meekly she submitted, and it was something of a physical relief to sink into the sumptuous comfort of the great bed that had been prepared for her.

Ivor reappeared when her dinner-tray arrived, and he opened a half-bottle of champagne which he shared with her in honour of the occasion. Molly would gladly have foregone this, for she was quite unused to stimulant; but as it seemed to be part of the programme she accepted it without demur. And it did her good. It sent a glow through her weary body, reviving her, banishing the coldness which had taken such a firm hold of her.

She found herself able to smile at Ivor in spite of an unfamiliar dizziness, and she found that dinner was after all not so depressing a matter. He watched her with satisfaction, and when she had finished prepared to go to his own.

“I shan’t be long,” he said. “You lie quiet, dear, and forget all your troubles! Perhaps you’ll get a little sleep.”

He bent to kiss her, and she laid a hesitating hand on his arm. “Need anybody else come to see me to-night?” she asked wistfully.

“Good heavens, no!” he answered. “Not a soul will come near you but me. I’ll put the tray outside. Now—you’ve got everything you want?”

She lay back on the pillows, still feeling rather dazed. “Oh, everything, thank you,” she said.

“That’s right.” He picked up the tray and turned to depart. “You’re looking heaps better. Just shut your eyes and lie still!”

She did not watch him go. Her eyes were closing of their own accord. The glow that spread through all her limbs was imparting an exquisite sense of repose and well-being that was infinitely comforting. She remembered with thankfulness that Rollo was already asleep, and she resolved to get up as early as possible and go to him. Then she tried to say her prayers, but her brain felt like rippling water with the sun on it and the sparkles baffled her. She gave up the effort with a long sigh that was more of contentment than regret. She was very, very tired; but there was one thing which even then she did not omit—a thing she had never once omitted for three years.

She groped for a little flat gold miniature-case which she wore on a slender chain about her neck, opened it with fingers that felt strangely unsteady, and tried to look at the pictured face within.

It was the face of a young man with eager eyes and an impetuous, ardent mouth. But to-night it danced before her eyes, and she could only blindly kiss it.

“Good night, Roy—my darling!” she whispered, and closed the case again.

Almost immediately she fell asleep with it clasped in her hand.

Hours later she stirred and awoke, conscious of a movement beside her.

Instinctively she started up. “Rollo, darling, are you awake?” she said.

There was moonlight, and by it she saw and recognized her unfamiliar surroundings. In a flash she was fully conscious.

And then a hand came out to her, an arm encircled her, drawing her gently down again.

“It’s all right, dearest,” said Ivor’s quiet voice. “Go to sleep again! I’m here.”

Something beat up inside her throat that was like a wild bird clamouring at the bars of a cage. She made a sharp involuntary movement of resistance.

But the strong arm still held her, steadily drew her. Her resistance failed, and her heart seemed to fail with it. She burst into an agony of tears.

“Ah, now—now!” he said, and gathered her without further words to his breast.

She lay there for a long time, crying bitterly, fruitlessly, until at last her sobs grew feeble and far apart, finally ceased. She was exhausted—conquered.

And then after a pause of infinite patience Ivor passed a caressing hand over her head and turned her face up to his own. The moonlight revealed the anguish through which she had come; but she was still now, only faintly pulsating to his touch.

“Poor child!” he said tenderly. “Has it been so hard? Ah well, it’s over now, and you’ll be happier presently.”

She did not answer him, nor did he expect or desire an answer.

Gravely, he bent his face to hers and kissed her with the lips of a conqueror.