The Obstacle Race Part 28

"It depends how you look at it," she said gently.

"Don't you look at it that way?" he said, regarding her curiously.

She hesitated momentarily. "Not entirely, no. The woman was dead and you were alone."

"I was--horribly alone," he said.

"I don't think it was wrong of you to marry," she said. "Only--you ought to love your wife."

"Ah!" he said. "I thought we agreed that love comes only once."

She shook her head. "Not quite that. Besides, there are many kinds of love." Again for a second she hesitated looking straight at him. "Shall I tell you something? I don't know whether I ought. It is almost like a breach of confidence--though it was never told to me."

"What is it?" he said imperatively.

She made a little gesture of yielding. "Yes, I will tell you. Mr.

Fielding, you might make your wife love you--so dearly--if you cared to take the trouble."

"What?" he said.

Her eyes met his with a faint, faint smile. "Doesn't it seem absurd," she said, "that it should fall to me--a comparative stranger--to tell you this, when you have been together for so long? It is the truth. She is just as lonely and unhappy as you are. You could transform the whole world for her--if you only would."

"What! Give her her own way in everything?" he said. "Is that what you're advising?"

"No. I'm not advising anything. I am only just telling you the truth,"

said Juliet. "You could make her love you--if you tried."

He stared at her for some seconds as if trying to read some riddle in her countenance. "You are a very remarkable young woman," he said at last. "I wouldn't part with you for a king's ransom. So you think I might turn that very unreasonable hatred of hers into love, do you?"

"I am quite sure," said Juliet steadily.

"I wonder if I should like it if I did!" said the squire.

She laughed--a sudden, low laugh. "Yes. You would like it very much. It's the last and greatest obstacle between you and happiness. Once clear that, and--"

"Did you say happiness?" he broke in cynically.

"Yes, of course I did." Her look challenged him. "Once clear that and if you haven't got a straight run before you--" She paused, looking at him oddly, very intently, and finally stopped.

"Well?" he said. "Continue!"

She coloured vividly under his eyes.

"I'm afraid I've lost my thread. It doesn't really matter. You know what I was going to say. The way to happiness does not lie in pleasing oneself. The self-seekers never get there."

He made her a courteous bow. "Thank you, fairy G.o.d-mother! I believe you are right. That may be why happiness is so shy a bird. We spread the net too openly. Well," he heaved a sigh, "we live and learn." He turned to the table and took up his riding whip. "I suppose my wife will be in bed and sulk all day because I vetoed the Graydown Races."

"Oh, was that the trouble?" said Juliet.

He nodded gloomily. "I hate the set she consorts with at these shows.

There are some of the Fairharbour set--impossible people! But they boast of being on nodding terms with that arch-bounder Lord Saltash, and so everything is forgiven them."

Juliet suddenly stood up very straight. "I think I ought to tell you,"

she said, "that I know Lord Saltash. I have lived with the Farringmore family, as you know. He is a friend of Lord Wilchester's."

The squire turned sharply. "I hope you're going to tell me also that you can't endure the man," he said.

She made a little gesture of negation. "I never say that of anybody. I don't feel I can afford to. Life has too many contradictions--too many chances. The person we most despise to-day may prove our most valuable defender to-morrow."

"Heaven forbid!" said the squire. "You wouldn't touch such pitch as that under any circ.u.mstances. Besides, what do you want in the way of defenders? You're safe enough where you are."

Juliet was smiling whimsically. "But who knows?" she said. "I may be dismissed in disgrace to-morrow."

"No," he said briefly. "That won't happen. Your position here is secure as long as you consent to fill it."

"How rash of you," she said.

"A matter of opinion!" said Fielding. "How would you like to go over and see the cricket at Fairharbour this afternoon?"

She gave him a quick look. "Oh, is that the alternative to the races?"

He frowned. "I have already told you the races are out of the question."

"I see," said Juliet thoughtfully. "Then I am afraid the cricket-match is also--unless Mrs. Fielding wants to go."

"I'll make her go," said squire.

"No! No! Don't make her do anything--please!" begged Juliet. "That is just the worst mistake you could possibly make. To be honest, I would rather--much--go to the open-air concert at High Shale this evening."

"Along with those rowdy miners?" growled the squire. "I see enough of them on the Bench. Green of course is cracked on that subject. He'd like to set the world in order if he could."

"I admire his enterprise," said Juliet.

He nodded. "So do I. He's cussed as a mule, but he's a goer. He's also a gentleman. Have you noticed that?"

She smiled. "Of course I have."

"And I can't get my wife to see it," said the squire. "Just because--by his own idiotic choice--he occupies a humble position, she won't allow him a single decent quality. She cla.s.ses them all together, when anyone can see--anyone with ordinary intelligence can see--that he is of a totally different standing from those brothers of his. He is on another plane altogether. It's self-evident. You see it at once."

"Yes," said Juliet.

He moved restlessly. "I would have placed him in his proper sphere if he'd consented to it. But he wouldn't. It's a standing grievance between us. That fellow Robin is a millstone round his neck. Miss Moore," he turned on her suddenly, "you have a wonderful knack of making people see reason. Couldn't you persuade him to let Robin go?"

"Oh no!" said Juliet quickly. "It's the very last thing I would attempt to do."

"Really!" He looked at her in genuine astonishment.

Juliet flushed. "But of course!" she said. "They belong to each other.