The Testing of Diana Mallory Part 70

"Are you--are you thinking of a nurse?"

"No," said Lady Lucy, decidedly. "His man Richard is an excellent nurse.

I shall never leave him--and you say"--she turned pointedly to look at Alicia--"you say you will come back?"

"Of course!--of course I will come back!" cried Alicia. Then, stepping up briskly to Lady Lucy, she stooped and kissed her. "And there is you to look after, too!"

Lady Lucy allowed the kiss, but made no reply to the remark. Alicia departed.

She went slowly up the wide oak staircase. How stifling the house was on this delicious afternoon! Suddenly, in the distance, she heard the sound of guns--a shooting-party, no doubt, in the Melford woods. Her feet danced under her, and she gave a sigh of longing for the stubbles and the sunny fields, and the companions.h.i.+p of handsome men, of health and vigor as flawless and riotous as her own.

Oliver was lying still, with closed eyes, when she rejoined him. He made no sign as she opened the door, and she sank down on a stool beside him and laid her head against his shoulder.

"Dear Oliver, you must cheer up," she said, softly. "You'll be well soon--quite soon--if you are only patient."

He made no reply.

"Did you like Mr. Nixon?" she asked, in the same caressing voice, gently rubbing her cheek against his arm.

"One doesn't exactly like one's executioner," he said, hoa.r.s.ely and suddenly, but without opening his eyes.

"Oliver!--dearest!" She dropped a protesting kiss on the sleeve of his coat.

Silence for a little, Alicia felt as if she could hardly breathe in the hot room. Then Oliver raised himself.

"I am going blind!"--he said, violently. "And nothing can be done. Did that man tell my mother that?"

"No, no!--Oliver!" She threw her arm round him, hastily repeating and softening Nixon's opinion.

He sank back on his cus.h.i.+ons, gloomily listening--without a.s.sent.

Presently he shook his head.

"The stuff that doctors talk when they can do no good, and want to get comfortably out of the house! Alicia!"

She bent forward startled.

"Alicia!--are you going to stick to me?"

His eyes held her.

"Oliver!--what a cruel question!"

"No, it is not cruel." He spoke with a decision which took no account of her caresses. "I ought to give you up--I know that perfectly well. But I tell you frankly I shall have no motive to get well if you leave me. I think that man told me the truth--I did my best to make him. There _is_ a chance of my getting well--the thing is _not_ hopeless. If you'll stand by me, I'll fight through. Will you?" He looked at her with a threatening and painful eagerness.

"Of course I will," she said, promptly.

"Then let us tell my mother to-night that we are engaged? Mind, I am not deceiving you. I would give you up at once if I were hopelessly ill. I am only asking you to bear a little waiting--and wretchedness--for my sake."

"I will bear anything. Only, dear Oliver--for your sake--for mine--wait a little longer! You know what horrible gossip there's been!" She clung to him, murmuring: "I couldn't bear that anybody should speak or think harshly of you now. It can make no difference to you and me, but two or three months hence everybody would take it so differently. You know we said in June--six months."

Her voice was coaxing and sweet. He partly withdrew himself from her, however.

"At least, you can tell my mother," he said, insisting. "Of course, she suspects it all."

"Oh, but, dear Oliver!"--she brought her face nearer to his, and he saw the tears in her eyes--"one's own mother ought to know first of all.

Mamma would be so hurt--she would never forgive me. Let me pay this horrid visit--and then go home and tell my people--if you really, really wish it. Afterward of course, I shall come back to you--and Cousin Lucy shall know--and at Christmas--everybody."

"What visit? You _are_ going to Eastham?--to the Tresham's?" It was a cry of incredulous pain.

"How _can_ I get out of it, dear Oliver? Evelyn has been _so_ ill!--and she's been depending on me--and I owe her so much. You know how good she was to me in the Season."

He lifted himself again on his cus.h.i.+ons, surveying her ironically--his eyes sunken and weak--his aspect ghastly.

"Well, how long do you mean to stay? Is Lord Philip going to be there?"

"What do I care whether he is or not!"

"You said you were longing to know him."

"That was before you were ill."

"I don't see any logic in that remark." He lay looking at her. Then suddenly he put out an arm, pulled her down to him feebly, and kissed her. But the movement hurt him. He turned away with some broken words--or, rather, moans--stifled against his pillows.

"Dear, do lie still. Shall I read to you?"

He shook his head.

"Don't stay with me. I shall be better after dinner."

She rose obediently, touched him caressingly with her hand, drew a light shawl over him, and stole away.

When she reached her own room she stood a moment, frowning and absorbed; beside the open window. Then some one knocked at her door. It was her maid, who came in carrying a large light box.

Alicia flew toward her.

"From Cosette! Heavens! Oh, Benson, quick! Put it down. I'll help you."

The maid obeyed, and ran to the dressing-table for scissors. Cords and tapes were soon cut in the hurry of unpacking, and from the crackling tissue-paper there emerged an evening gown of some fresh snowy stuff, delicately painted and embroidered, which drew from the maid little shrieks of admiration.

Alicia looked at it more critically.

"The lace is not good enough," she said, twisting her lip, "and I shall make her give me some more embroidery than that on the bodice--for the money--I can tell her! However, it is pretty--much prettier, isn't it, Benson, than that gown of Lady Evelyn's I took it from? She'll be jealous!" The girl laughed triumphantly. "Well, now, look here, Benson, we're going on Sat.u.r.day, and I want to look through my gowns. Get them out, and I'll see if there's anything I can send home."

The maid's face fell.

"I packed some of them this morning, miss--in the large American trunk.