The Seventh Noon Part 12

"But--"

"I will see Marie and come down at once."

She hurried upstairs.

"Marie," she asked, "is it quite safe to leave you here alone until afternoon?"

"Safe? Why not?"

"I was going out to the bungalow."

The old servant looked up shrewdly.

"Is anything the matter?"

"Nothing that you can help," the girl answered.

She had not yet told her of Ben's last disappearance. There was no use in worrying those who could give no help.

"Bien. Go on. It will do you both good."

"The telephone is at your bed--you can summon Dr. Abbot if you need anything."

"Bien."

"And perhaps while I am gone Jacques may come for a visit."

"Perhaps. Run along. The air will do you good."

The girl kissed the wrinkled forehead and hurried to her own room.

There, before the mirror, she was forced to ask herself the question which she had tried to escape: "Why are you going?"

"Because if Ben were there and sick, he might need me!"

"Why are you going?"

The woman in the mirror was relentless.

"Because the house here is so full of shadows."

"Why are you going?"

"Because the sun will give me strength."

"Why are you going?"

"Because," she flushed guiltily,--"because it will be very much pleasanter than remaining here alone."

Whereupon the woman in the mirror ceased her questioning.

And, in the meanwhile, the relentless old clock was goading Donaldson.

Its methodical, interminable ticking sounded like the approaching footsteps of a jailer towards the death cell.

"Don't you know better than to risk yourself out there one whole spring-time day with her?" it demanded.

"But with a full realization of the danger I can guard myself," he answered uneasily.

"Can you guard _her_?"

"That is unpardonable presumption," replied Donaldson heatedly.

"The mellow sun and the birthing flowers are ever presumptuous,"

answered the wise old clock.

"But a man may fight them off."

"I have ticked here many years and seen many things that man has prided himself upon having the power to do and yet has failed of doing."

"I cannot help myself. I should offend her unwarrantedly if I made further objection."

"Then you are not all-powerful."

"I have power over myself. And you are insulting her."

"Tick-tock. Tick-tock," answered the clock, jeeringly.

And Donaldson was saved from his impulse to kick the inanimate thing into splinters by the sound of her footsteps.

CHAPTER X

_Outside the Hedge_

She came down the stairs, a vision of young womanhood, dressed in white, with a wide turn-down collar fastened at the throat by a generous tie of black. Her hat was a girlish affair of black straw with a cl.u.s.ter of red roses gathered at the brim. She was drawing on her black gloves as she neared him--with the background of the broad Colonial staircase--a study for a master. She approached with the grace of a princess and the poise of a woman twice her years. He now could have no more bade her remain behind than he could have stopped the progress of time. There was something almost inevitable in her movements, as though it had been foreordained that they two should have this day in the country, no matter under what evil auspices. Without a word he held open the door for her to pa.s.s through and followed her into the cab.

Into the Drive they were whirled and so towards the station, the throbbing heart of the city. The ant-like throng was going and coming, and now he was one of them. It was as though the strand of his life, hanging loose, had been caught up, forced into the shuttle, and taken again into the pattern. At her side he made his way into the depot at the side of a hundred others; at her side he took his turn in line at the ticket window; at her side he made his way towards the gates, a score of others jostling him in criticism of his more moderate pace.

An old client, one of his few, bowed to him. He returned the salute as though his position were the most matter-of-fact one in the world. Yet he was still confused. He had been thrust upon the stage but he was uncertain of his cue. What was the meaning of this figure by his side?

In his old part, she had not been there.

When at last they were seated side by side in the car and the train began slowly to pull out, her presence there seemed even more unreal than ever. But soon he gave himself up comfortably to the illusion.

She was within arm's length of him and they were steaming through the green country. That was enough for him to know at present. She looked very trim as compared to the other women who pa.s.sed in and took their places in the dusty, red-cus.h.i.+oned seats. She looked more alive--less a type. She gave tone to the whole car.

Up to now, she had given her attention to scanning the faces of the mult.i.tude they had pa.s.sed in the faint hope that by some chance her brother might be among them, but once the train started she surrendered herself fully to the new hope which lay ahead of her in the bungalow.

This gave her an opportunity to study more closely this man who so suddenly had become her chief reliance in this intimate detail of her life. His kindly good nature furnished her a sharp contrast to the sober seriousness of the older man with whom so much of her youth had been lived. He had thrown open the doors and windows of the gloomy house in which she had so long been pent up. And yet as he rambled on in an evident attempt to lighten her burden, she caught a note that piqued her curiosity. It was as though below the surface he was fretted by some problem which lent a touch of sadness to his hearty courageous outlook. She felt it, when once on the journey he broke out,

"Don't ever look below the surface of anything I say. Don't ever try to look beyond the next step I take. I'm here to-day; gone to-morrow."