Old Rose and Silver Part 35

Aunt Francesca and Rose had been queer ever since it happened. After Colonel Kent and the servants and the twins had lifted Allison out of "The Yellow Peril" and carried him up to his own room on an improvised stretcher, while someone else was telephoning for every doctor in the neighbourhood, the twins had taken her home. She had insisted upon their helping her up the steps, and as soon as Aunt Francesca and Rose heard the news, they had paid no attention to her at all, but, with one voice, had demanded that the twins should take them to Kent's immediately.

They had gone without even stopping for their hats, and left her wholly to the servants. Even when they had come home, late at night, in their own carriage, it was over half an hour before Aunt Francesca came to her room, so overburdened with selfish grief that she did not even listen to the recital of Isabel's numerous bruises.

Perhaps it would be best to go away, though the city was terrible in Summer, and she had only money enough to take her to the hotel where her mother retained a suite of three rooms. If Aunt Francesca and Rose would leave her alone in the house long enough, and she could pack a suit-case and get the carriage just in time to take her to the train, she could write a formal note and ask to have the rest of her things sent by express. If there were a late train, or one very early in the morning, she could probably manage it, even without the carriage, but, on consulting the time-table, she found that trains did not run at hours suitable for escape.

However, it was just as well to pack while she had time. She could keep the suit-case hidden until the auspicious moment arrived. It would only take a moment to open it and sweep her toilet articles into it from the top of her dresser.

She had just taken a fresh s.h.i.+rtwaist out of the drawer when there was a light, determined rap at the door. When she opened it, she was much astonished to see Aunt Francesca come in, dressed for a drive.

"Are you almost ready, Isabel?" she asked, politely.

"Ready," gasped the girl. "For what?"

It seemed for the moment as though she had been antic.i.p.ated in her departure and was about to be put out of the house.

"To drive over to Kent's," answered Madame, imperturbably. From her manner one would have thought the drive had been long planned.

Isabel sat down on her bed. "I'm not going," she said.

"Oh, yes, you are," returned Madame, in a small, thin voice. "You may go in your tea gown and slippers if you prefer, but I will wait until you dress, if you are quick about it."

"I won't," Isabel announced, flatly. "I'm sick. You know I'm all bruised up and I can't walk."

"You can walk down-stairs and it's only a few steps farther to the carriage. I telephoned over to ask if he would see you, and the nurse said that he would be very glad to see you--that he had been asking all day why you did not come. The carriage is waiting at the door, so please hurry."

Isabel was head and shoulders taller than the determined little lady who stood there, waiting, but there was something in her manner that demanded immediate obedience. Sullenly, Isabel began to dress. If Aunt Francesca went with her, it would not be necessary to say much. She caught at the thought as though she were drowning and the proverbial straw had floated into reach.

She took her time about dressing, but Madame said nothing. She simply stood there, waiting, in the open door, until the last knot was tied, the last pin adjusted, and the last stray lock brushed into place.

Isabel limped ostentatiously all the way down-stairs and had to be a.s.sisted into the carriage. During the brief drive neither spoke. The silence was unbroken until they reached the door of Allison's room, then Madame said, in a low tone: "The carriage will call for you in an hour.

Remember he loves you, and be kind."

Up to that moment, Isabel had not suspected that she would be obliged to see him alone. She was furious with Aunt Francesca for thus betraying her, but no retreat was possible. The nurse smilingly ushered her in, pa.s.sed her almost on the threshold, and went out, quietly closing the door.

Allison, as eager as a boy of twenty, had half risen in bed. The injured hand was hidden by the sheet, but the other was outstretched in welcome.

"Isabel," he breathed. "My Isabel!"

Isabel did not move. "How do you do?" she said primly.

"I'm sorry I can't get you a chair, dear. Come close, won't you?"

Isabel limped painfully to the chair that was farthest from him, dragged it over to the bed, and sat down--just out of his reach. Below, the rumble of wheels announced that Madame had gone back home. Unless she walked, Isabel was stranded at Kent's for a full hour.

"My note," Allison was saying. "You got it, didn't you?"

"Yes. It came while I was at luncheon to-day."

It flashed upon him for an instant that the reality was disappointing, that this was not all as he had dreamed it would be, but pride bade him conceal his disappointment as best he could.

"You were hurt," he said, tenderly. "I'm so sorry."

"Yes. I was hurt quite a good deal."

"But you're all right now, and I'm so glad!"

"Thank you," she answered, listlessly.

Her eyes roved about the room, observing every detail of furniture and ornament. It was old-fas.h.i.+oned, and in a way queer, she thought. She was glad that she would never have to live there.

Allison watched her eagerly. Like a wayfarer in the desert thirsting for water, he longed for her tenderness; for one unsought kiss, even in farewell. His pride sustained him no longer. "Dear," he pleaded, like the veriest beggar; "won't you kiss me just once?"

Isabel hesitated. "It isn't proper," she murmured, "now that we are no longer engaged. I'm sorry you got hurt," she added, as an afterthought.

Allison's face paled suddenly. So, she accepted her release! Then eager justification of her made him wonder if by any chance she could have misunderstood.

"Dearest," he said, with cold lips, "did you think for a single instant that I wanted to release you? I did it because it was the only thing an honourable man could do and I wouldn't let pity for me hold you to a promise made in love. It wasn't that I didn't want you. I've wanted you every day and every hour. Only G.o.d knows how I've wanted you and shall want you all the rest of my life, unless--"

He paused, hoping, for the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat, that the dream might come true.

But Isabel did not move from her chair. She surveyed the opposite wall for a few moments before she spoke. "It was honourable," she said, in a more friendly tone. "Of course it was the only thing you could do."

"Of course," he echoed, bitterly.

Isabel rose, went to the foot of the bed, and leaned upon it, facing him. "I'm afraid I've stayed too long," she said. "I think I'd better go. I can wait downstairs for the carriage."

Allison did not answer. His eyes burned strangely in his white face, making her vaguely uncomfortable and afraid. She turned the diamond ring upon her finger and slowly slipped it off.

"I suppose I must give this back," she said, reluctantly. "I mustn't wear it now."

"Why not?" he asked huskily.

"Because it doesn't mean anything--now."

"It never did. Keep it, Isabel."

"Thank you," she said, calmly, putting it back, but on the middle finger. "I must go now. I hope you'll get along all right."

"Wait just a minute, please." He rang a bell that was on a table within his reach, and the nurse came in. "Please bring me my violin."

Isabel turned to the door but was held back by a peremptory command.

"Wait!"

"Here," he cried shrilly, offering Isabel the violin. "Take this, too!"

"What for?" she asked, curiously. "I can't play."

"Nevertheless, it belongs to you. Keep it, as a souvenir!"

Holding the violin awkwardly, Isabel backed out of the room, the nurse following her and closing the door. The nurse was a young woman who had not sacrificed her normal human sympathy to her chosen work, but had managed, happily, to combine the two. She watched Isabel disdainfully as she went down-stairs, very briskly for one with a sprained ankle.