Capricious Caroline Part 8

"I can't," she said to herself; "I absolutely can't!"

Haverford was standing by the fire.

The scent of her violets, the bewildering entrancement of her presence, made him dreamy.

How changed the room was!

The house was full of treasures--pictures, tapestries, bronzes, inanimate things which had cost thousands--but everything was as nothing compared with this living, breathing, beautiful woman.

How far more beautiful than all the rest she was!

"I shall be photographed on purpose," he roused himself to say; and then he pulled himself together with a great effort. "You want me?" he queried. "I am only too delighted to do any little thing for you, Mrs.

Lancing. Pray let me know what I can do!"

Camilla got up and moved about a little aimlessly.

"It ... it's rather a big favour, really quite an enormous one," she said. "I ... I feel nervous...." Indeed, her voice broke a little.

"Don't be afraid," said Haverford.

She caught her breath, and then she steadied her voice.

"Well, I have come to you because a dear friend of mine is in great trouble, Mr. Haverford," she said. "When I got home this afternoon I found a letter waiting for me. You would not know if I were to tell you her name. She lives in the country, and oh! she has had such a hard life. We ... we are old, old friends, and I suppose that is why she has turned to me now and asked me to help her.... I only wish I could..."

she broke off with a sharp sigh; "it is so hateful to feel one cannot do things of this sort for people who really need help..." she said half impatiently, half wearily.

He stood quietly by the fireplace looking at her; he was barely conscious of what she was saying. The fragrance that floated about her--her clear voice with its pretty enunciation--the realization that she was so close, made a curious effect upon him: he felt stupid, dazed, burningly hot one instant, strangely cold the next.

Camilla hurried on nervously.

"When I read that letter, Mr. Haverford, I thought immediately of you.

I know I have no earthly right to bother you with things that belong to a stranger ... indeed"--she laughed faintly--"I am _quite_ prepared to hear you say that you are surprised; that you did not think that I should do anything of this sort I--I have come even expecting you to refuse."

He left the fireplace and went nearer to her.

The dream dropped away from him.

"Some friend of yours is in trouble?" he asked. He smiled at her. "You were quite right to come to me. I am only too glad to do anything for any one in trouble, but more especially I am glad to do anything for any one who is dear to you."

Camilla bit her lip, and moved a little away from him, approaching the fire in her turn.

"How good you are!" she said. The words were wrung from her involuntarily, and there were tears in her eyes and tears in her voice.

Indeed, he moved her sharply at this moment.

There was such an element of simplicity about him and yet no weakness.

He accepted her story without question. The flimsy fabrication she had just given him was merely the truth to him, essentially so because it was she who spoke. No other man she knew would have been deceived by this story of a friend in the country, but Rupert was not like all these other men. He was very far removed from being a fool, but he was a long, long way from grasping the meaning of life as it was lived by most of the men and women who circled about him now.

Why, he was in many things a child compared to herself!...

Haverford had set down to his writing-table.

"In any matter of this kind," he said, "I beg you will use me in every way that may seem good to you, Mrs. Lancing. I gather that your friend needs immediate help; pray do not let her be troubled an hour longer than is possible."

He signed a blank cheque, and slipped it into an envelope.

As he turned and held this out to her, Camilla Lancing gave a little s.h.i.+ver. She looked at him without taking the envelope.

"Oh!" she murmured, "I ... am half afraid to take this! I came ... on ... on the impulse of the moment, not because you have so much ... but because I ... felt ... I feel you are so glad to--to help any one but...."

"Why should there be any 'but'?" he asked, not very steadily; "by this time I hope you know that I hold it one of my greatest pleasures, as it is certainly an honour, to serve you whenever you will permit me to do so. Will you remember this always?..."

Camilla bit her lip again, and then put out her hand.

Haverford bent over it and kissed it. Her hand was kissed at least once or twice a day on the average but Rupert Haverford had never before permitted himself this old-fas.h.i.+oned and gracious sign of homage. It was with him an expression of something far, far deeper than mere courtesy to a very delightful and very pretty woman. She divined this instantly, and her heart began to beat nervously. As he released her hand she pulled her sables about her and prepared to go. She wanted to be away from him. The expression of his face troubled her. She had chafed almost angrily at his silence, his self-repression, yet now that she knew he would speak she dreaded to hear his words.

A thousand jarring feelings thrilled her.

Though there had been many moments recently when he had appealed to her physically, when, indeed, she had frankly admired him, in this moment she felt almost as though she hated him.

It was a sensation which she could not define which she would have found practically impossible to explain to another person, but it was very real, very oppressive.

She crushed the envelope he had given her in her hand, and hid it in her big m.u.f.f; then she began speaking gaily.

"What are you doing to-night?" she asked. "You are engaged? Oh, I am so sorry! I thought that perhaps you would have taken Agnes and me to dinner somewhere. We have no engagement; but never mind, we can do that another night."

"Will you dine with me to-morrow?" he asked. He, too, was nervous. He had not her gift of slipping into a seeming indifference. Her easy, everyday manner separated them once again, brought back with a rush the old uncertainty, the old unrest.

She laughed.

"Oh! delightful! And let us dine here, do, please. I simply adore this house, and I want Agnes to see it. You know, you have always happened to be away when she has been up in town. How enchanting everything is!

No matter where one looks one sees something that is perfect of its kind ... and that is not what one can say of every magnificent house, you know!" said Camilla. She had moved to the door, and he opened it.

They pa.s.sed out into the wide corridor. "The fact is a man's taste is always so much better than a woman's," she chattered on restlessly, "it is really a most absurd idea to suppose that a house must have a woman in it.... For the best of us will persist in filling our rooms with rubbish. Do you know, to this day I have the greatest difficulty in denying myself the joys of j.a.panese fans on the walls, and art muslin draperies and curtains? Oh!" she said suddenly, "I quite forgot to ask you; how is your mother? I hope she is better."

"I hope she is," said Rupert, "but I have not seen her. She has gone to Paris. My half-brother is ill."

He went with her to the entrance door, and himself put her into the cab that was waiting.

She stretched out her hand just before starting.

"I must _try_ and say thank you," she said nervously, "but it is not easy to say. I shall send ... this ... on to my friend at once. You will have the consciousness of knowing you have made one person very happy to-night, Mr. Haverford! _A demain!_ May we dine late?... I have such a full day to-morrow.... Good night...."

He held her hand very, very closely, and let it go reluctantly.

The light of the cab-lamp was s.h.i.+ning on him fully. He looked very handsome as he stood there against the dark, foggy background, a man to make gladness to the eyes and heart of any woman. But as she rolled away swiftly, Camilla Lancing leaned back and flung up her veil, sighing rapidly and impatiently.

"After all, he does mean to speak ... and soon," she said to herself, "and when he does I _must_ agree; I must say 'Yes'! How can I possibly refuse? It would be madness. He would do everything so well there would be no more anxiety about the children, and I should have everything I want, no more horrible bills, no more difficulties, and an end to the hideous dependence on Ned's father...." She pulled aside the sable almost roughly from about her throat. The night was bitterly cold, but she felt as if she were stifling.

"But what a life!... I don't believe I shall be able to stand it for even a month.... I shall feel like a caged animal. My very thoughts will not be my own.... I wanted him to love me, but not like this. He loves me too much. He will exact too much. I shall have to give up everything I like. No more bridge, no more freedom, no more fun. Oh, my G.o.d!" said Camilla with fierceness, though she was crying, "I _know_ I shall never be able to do it! I don't want that sort of man," she said, "I don't want to stagnate and grow old, and good.... I want to live ... to live!... And I did live before Ned left me!... How can I marry a man like this after I have been Ned's wife? Oh, Ned, Ned, if only you had not died!... If only I could feel you were somewhere in the world, even though there were twenty women between us ... it ... it would be all so different!..."

She cried unceasingly for a few moments as the cab swayed and jerked over the greasy pavement, and then she pulled herself together.