Bird of Paradise Part 33

He went up to his room, and asked her to leave him, and this she actually did. She wanted time to think!

With the weak good nature that was in Nigel, curiously side by side with a certain cruel hardness, he now felt a little sorry for her. It must be awful to be waiting like this. And she really had been in the wrong. It was an appalling thing to do--mad, hysterical, dangerous. It might have caused far more trouble than it had! Suppose Percy had believed it all!

Nigel thought of scandals, divorces, all sorts of things. Yes, after all, Kellynch had really been kind; and clever. He was not a bad sort.

Then Nigel found that last little letter of Bertha's. How sweet it was!

But he saw through it now, that she was deeply happy and didn't want to be bothered with him. She forgave the scene his wife had made at the party, as not one woman in a hundred would do--but she didn't want him.

The moment she realised that he wanted to flirt with her, that there was even a chance of his loving her, she was simply bored. Yes, that was it--gay, amusing, witty, attractive Nigel bored her! Dull, serious, conventional Percy did not! She was in love with him.

In books and plays it was always the other way: it was the husband that was the bore; but romances and comedies are often far away from life.

Curious as it seemed, this was life, and Nigel realised it. He destroyed her letter and went down to dinner.

They were quiet at dinner, talked a little only for the servants. Nigel asked about the little girl.

"How's Marjorie getting on with her music lessons?"

Mary answered in a low voice that the teacher thought she had talent.

They were left alone.

"Well, what is it, Nigel?" She spoke in querulous, frightened voice.

They were sitting in the boudoir again. Coffee had been left on the table.

Nigel lighted a cigarette.

He was still a little sorry for her. Then he said:

"Look here, Mary, I'm sorry to say I've found out you've been doing a very terrible thing! I ask you not to deny it, because I know it. The only chance of our ever being in peace together again, or in peace at all, is for you to speak the truth."

She did not answer.

"I've forgiven heaps of things--frightful tempers, mad suspicions, that disgraceful scene you made at our party--but I always thought you were honourable and truthful. What you've done is very dishonourable. Don't make it worse by denying it." He paused. "You have written five anonymous letters, dictated in typewriting, about me and Mrs. Kellynch to her husband. I don't know what you thought, but you certainly tried to give the impression that our harmless conversations meant something more. That there was an intrigue going on. Did you really think this, may I ask?"

"Yes, I did," she said, in a low voice, looking down.

"Well, first allow me to a.s.sure you that you are entirely wrong. It was completely false. Can't you see now how terrible it was to suggest these absolute lies as facts to her husband? Did you write the letters?"

"Yes, I did; I was in despair. I couldn't think of anything else to stop it."

Nigel gave a sigh of relief.

"Thank G.o.d you've admitted it, Mary. I'm glad of that. At least if we have the truth between us, we know where we are."

"Did she--did she--tell you?"

"She knows nothing whatever about it," said Nigel. "She has never been told, and never will be. You need worry no more about the letters. Her husband gave them to me this afternoon, and I destroyed them before him.

And he doesn't know who wrote them."

Nigel forgot that he had told Percy or did not choose to say.

"They're completely wiped out, and will be forgotten by the person to whom you sent them. The whole affair is cleared up and finished and regarded as an unfortunate act of folly."

"Oh, Nigel!" Mary burst into tears. "You're very good."

"Now listen, Mary ... I can't endure to stay with you any more at present."

"What!" she screamed.

"If I continue this existence with you I shall grow to hate it. I wish to go away for a time."

"You want to leave me!"

"Unless I go now for a time to try and get over this act of yours, I tell you frankly that I shall leave you altogether."

He spoke sternly.

"If you will have the decency not to oppose my wishes, I will go away for six or seven weeks, and when I come back we'll try and take up our life again a little differently. You must be less jealous and exacting and learn to control yourself. I will then try to forget and we'll try to get on better together. But I must go. My nerves won't stand it any longer."

She sobbed, leaning her head on the back of an arm-chair.

"If you agree to this without the slightest objection," said Nigel, "I will come and join you and the children somewhere in the first week in August. Till then I'm going abroad, but I don't exactly know where. You shall have my address, and, of course, I shall write. I may possibly go to Venice. I have a friend there."

She still said nothing, but cried bitterly. She was in despair at the idea of his leaving her, but secretly felt she might have been let off less lightly.

One thing Nigel resolved. He would not let her know he had been forbidden the house. She would be too pleased at having succeeded. But he said:

"One thing you may as well know, I shall see nothing more of the Kellynches, because they are going into the country in a few days. They have had no quarrel, they are perfectly devoted to each other, and she has not the faintest idea of it. So you see you haven't done the harm, or caused the pain you tried to, except to me. I was ashamed when I saw----"

"Oh, Nigel, forgive me! I am sorry! Don't go away!"

"Unless I go away now, I shall go altogether. Don't cry. Try to cheer up!"

With these words he left the room.

CHAPTER x.x.x

MISS BELVOIR

We left Bertha and Madeline in the lift going up to call on Miss Belvoir. This lady was sitting by the fire, holding a screen. She came forward and greeted them with great cordiality. She was a small, dark, amiable-looking woman about thirty. Her hair and eyes were of a blackness one rarely sees, her complexion was clear and bright, her figure extremely small and trim. Without being exactly pretty, she was very agreeable to the eye, and also had the attraction of looking remarkably different from other people. Indeed her costume was so uncommon as to be on the verge of eccentricity. Her face had a slightly j.a.panese look, and she increased this effect by wearing a gown of which a part was decidedly j.a.panese. In fact it was a kimono covered with embroidery in designs consisting of a flight of storks, some chrysanthemums, and a few b.u.t.terflies, in the richest shades of blue. In the left-hand corner were two little yellow men fighting with a sword in each hand; otherwise it was all blue. It was almost impossible to keep one's eyes from this yellow duel; the little embroidered figures looked so fierce and emotional and appeared to be enjoying themselves so much.

The room in which Miss Belvoir received her friends was very large, long and low, and had a delightful view of the river from the Embankment. It was a greyish afternoon, vague and misty, and one saw from the windows views that looked exactly like pictures by Whistler. The room was furnished in a Post-Impressionist style, chiefly in red, black and brown; the colours were all plain--that is to say, there were no designs except on the ceiling, which was cosily covered with large, brilliantly tinted, life-sized parrots.