Winding Paths Part 52

"Please don't," with a low laugh - "just think of my dignity."

"But you are not dignified to-day. You seem as young and light-hearted as the springtime. I feel as if I must be years older than you."

She raised her face suddenly, with yearning eyes:

"Oh, let us emulate the spring this once - let us both be young and foolish and real, and pretend there isn't any one else in the world."

Fore one second he looked at her with wondering incredulity, then, with a tender little laugh he suddenly bent down and folded his arms round her till she seemed to vanish altogether into his embrace, and kissed her on the lips.

"The scent of violets has intoxicated us," he said, and kissed her again.

Then he gently pushed her into her big, deep chair.

"I'm going now. I only ran in to see how you were after that bad headache. You must bring the lilies and malmaisons back to-morrow, or I shall be offending so grievously you will forbid me the flat.

Good-bye!" And without another word he went away out of the room.

Lorraine sat quite still, and let the spell wrap her round for the precious moments that she could yet hold it. Of course it could not stay. In an hour at most she would be her old, brain-weary self again, with the best of her youth behind her; while he was still there on the treshold, young and strong and free. But even this one short hour was good. Life had not given her many such. She would fence it round with silence, and solitude, and the scent of violets.

Alymer went out into the streets wondering at himself vaguely, and yet with a pleasant glow of memory. He felt it bewildering that Lorraine Vivian, whose favours were so eagerly sought by men, should have allowed him to kiss her.

It seemed something apart altogether from her generous friends.h.i.+p and helpful influence. It made him pleased with himself, and filled his mind with a yet greater tenderness to her. He knew so much now of her early difficulties and following troubles - of the frivolous, unprincipled mother, and the long, uphill fight. She had honoured him with her confidence in spite of his youth, and now -

He quickened his steps, and his pulses leapt yet more fitfully. Spring was in the air and in his blood, and one of the recognised beauties of London had been gracious to him beyond all dreaming.

It was enough for the present hour. Why ask any inconvenient questions and spoil it all? Let the future look after itself.

Only one thought for a moment cast a little shadow upon his ardour. It crossed his mind, for no accountable reason, to wonder what Hal would think. He was a little afraid she would strongly disapprove.

But, after all, if she did, what matter? He owed nothing to Hal, and there was no reason why her views should disturb him in the least. Of course it did not... and yet... Hal's good opinion was a thing worth having; and, in short, he hoped she would not know.

It was not that she was straight-laced. She was too near the heart of humanity through her daily toil to be other than a generous judge; but she was also a creature of ideals for herself and for those who would be among her best friends; and she would have known unerringly that no great, consuming love had drowned his reason and filled his senses.

It was for that she would have judged him; and for that he would have stood before her direct gaze ashamed. One might be gay and irresponsible and merry, but there were just one or two things which must not be allowed in that category. Instinctively, he knew that in Hal's view he would have transgressed - not because he felt too much, but because he felt too little to be justified.

But why need she know? Why need any one know? He did not think his mother would follow up any further the story she had been told, and he would see his aunt about it personally. It was better to have it out with her, lest she took upon herself to interview Lorraine, and make more trouble still.

He ran up the stairs to the flat, two steps at a time; and scrambled to get changed for the dinner to which he was going, still feeling a pulsing thrill that, among all men, he was Lorraine Vivian's chosen friend.

In another flat - a bachelor one in Ryder Street - an elderly beau, likewise dressed for a dinner-party, though with the utmost care and precision, instead of a scramble. And to himself he said, as he took a long, last look at the image he loved:

"I must go to-morrow morning and settle this little matter about Alymer. No doubt Lorraine will be amazed to see how well-preserved I am. She cannot have any real feeling for such a boy, and, after all, a good-looking man of the world - "

He smiled to himself as over a thought that pleased him, and rang for his servant to go out and hail a taxi.

CHAPTER XXIX

It was not difficult for Alymer to persuade himself that a little diplomacy on his part would probably a.s.suage his aunt's wish to upset his friends.h.i.+p, and incidentally allay his mother's fears; but, as it happened no one having his welfare so exceedingly at heart over this matter with the actress was in any degree as amenable or as quietly pacified as he imagined.

Another interview took place between his mother and his aunt, in which the latter advised writing to Miss Vivian direct to tell her what his father and mother thought of the friends.h.i.+p, and that an uncle of his would call upon her at once.

To say that the letter was an insult is to put it mildly, though at the same time it was not so much through intention as ignorance.

Lorraine read it with silent amazement, and thought the writer must be mad. It seemed quite incredible that any lady in the twentieth century should apparently be so ignorant concerning the status of a celebrated actress. It was evidently taken for granted that she was an adventuress of the worst type.

She was naturally somewhat angry and indignant, but decided it was not worth while to take any notice, and merely awaited with some curiosity the visit of the uncle who was to expostulate with her, and, practically, offer her terms.

He came at about twelve o'clock, and he did not give his name, merely asking to see Miss Vivian on a matter of business.

Lorraine dressed with special care, and looked her best when she quietly entered the drawing-room. She gave an order to her maid with the door half opened, in the most casual and imperturbed of voices, then she came siowly in, closed the door behind her, and advanced towards the figure standing on the hearth.

When she had taken two steps she stood still suddenly, and in a voice that was rasping and harsh, exclaimed:

"_You!_ - "

Alymer's uncle squared his shoulders, stroked his white moustache with a gallant air, and replied:

"Yes - er - Lorraine. We meet again, you see. I may say - er - I am very glad indeed that it is so," and he advanced a step with outstretched hand.

But Lorraine was rooted to the spot where she stood, and a sudden, sharp fierceness seemed to burn in her eyes.

"Have-_you_-come-about-Alymer-Hermon?" she asked in slow, cutting tones, as if each word was hammered out of a seething whirlpool of suppressed emotions.

"Alymer is my nephew, and his mother asked me to come and - er - talk to you about him. She is a good deal perturbed on his behalf - er - because -"

"I do not want to know any more than I am able to gather from the extraordinary epistle I received from her this morning. What I should like to know is, did you agree to come here on this errand, knowing who I was?"

The faded blue eyes of the carefully dressed old roue began to look uncomfortably from one object to another; anywhere, indeed, but into those scorching orbs, with their suppressed fires.

Then he took his courage in his hands, and tried again.

"My dear Lorraine, you seem to be taking rather a theatrical view of a very commonplace matter. Of course it is bad for the boy to get mixed up in a scandal, just at the beginning of his career, or, for the matter of that, talked about with a celebrated actress whose husband is known to be living somewhere. I have come to you as a man of the world, to ask you as a woman of the world to be generous in the matter, and help me to set the minds of his parents at rest at once - "

"Ah! It was as a man of the world you came to me before ; but then I - I "-she gave a low, unpleasant laugh -" I wasn't a woman of the world, you see, until you had taught me, and left me."

He did not quite know what the laugh meant, but now his old eyes were roaming over the beauty that was yet hers, and memory was stirring, and something made him reckless.

"Don't speak of it like that," he pleaded drawing a little nearer. "I know I didn't perhaps treat you quite well; but if there are any amends I can make now? - If you will let us be friends again? - "

"Amends - amends. What do I want with amends from such as you ?" And her eyes flashed dangerously. He retreated quickly, with a hurt, rather cowed expression.

"Well, Fate has thrown us together again and I am still a bachelor - and I have money -"

"Do please try not to insult me any further."