Capricious Caroline Part 57

She said this in the most natural way possible.

But Haverford was not at Yelverton for Christmas. He wired from the north that he was ill--had caught a violent cold, and was unable to travel.

He was not too ill, however, to forget his Christmas remembrances.

Packages kept arriving by every post, and the children were in a ferment of excitement. They rushed to their mother as each new gift arrived, and Camilla confessed to Caroline that she was frantically jealous of the attachment between Rupert and the little creatures.

"Of course, it is the best thing that could happen, I know that; but, after all, they are my children, and I ought to come first. As it is, I believe I am not even placed now. Rupert comes first--before any one; you are second; and Agnes a good third."

"You are talking nonsense," said Caroline, in her calmest way; "the children love you more and more every day."

Camilla smiled, frowned, and sighed.

"Well, it may be so; at all events, I don't mind Rupert, or you, or Agnes. It would have killed me if the old man had taken them, and turned them against me, as he certainly would have done. Oh, Caroline, that reminds me; has Betty chosen something for Violet Lancing's girl?

If not, let her send this bangle. I mean to be kind to that girl for Horace's sake."

A moment or two later Camilla said with a laugh--

"I wonder if Rupert will send me a Christmas present.... I suppose I must not expect it."

But she got one--a very lovely and unique necklace, composed of pieces of jade strung on a fine chain, alternated with emeralds.

Caroline's gift was a writing-table, and when the heavily laden post-bag was opened on Christmas morning there was a letter also.

She kept it for several hours unopened, and then stole out into the cold garden to read it. It was not very long. He had the trick of going straight to the point. But it was a letter that moved her deeply--that made her heart beat and her eyes dim. He called her "dearest," and once he wrote "dear capricious Caroline."

He did not claim her boldly this time, nor did he plead too much. There was a directness in his simplicity that almost made her waver. But she delayed answering till the morrow; and all that evening, as she felt the old irresistible fascination of Camilla's beautiful presence hold her in sway, she felt equally her heart grow steady and that strange rush of joy die down.

"It is impossible ... impossible," she said to herself; and though she put her words as gently as she knew how, she wrote and for a second time refused to be his wife.

CHAPTER XXII

When the question of a return to that little town house was mooted in earnest, Caroline joined issue with Mrs. Brenton in p.r.o.nouncing the suggestion impracticable.

She was honest enough to confess that her objection was to a large degree based on sentiment.

"Oh, don't go back there; you had so many, many dark days there," she urged. "Besides, the house is let till March. Why not let us go to Paris for a few months? Don't you think that is a good idea?"

"Oh!" said Camilla, delightedly; "then you _are_ coming with me?"

It was Caroline who looked surprised.

"Of course. I should love to stay six months in Paris. I want to pick up French if I can, and it would be so good for the children."

Camilla agreed.

"And if Cuthbert should pa.s.s through Paris we need not see him," she mused. "Happily he would not be able to stay for more than a few days; he owes too much. Caroline, we _will_ do this!"

So it was settled, despite Mrs. Brenton's protestations; but, as usual, Camilla upset the arrangement. She was happy at Yelverton for a week or two, but all at once she got restless, and went up to town for a few days. From thence she announced that she was going to pay one or two country visits.

Caroline was still making preparations for the migration to Paris, when the children's mother wrote announcing that their plans would be changed.

"I have some news for you," she scribbled; "Sammy is going to be married! My little matrimonial scheme has 'panned out' successfully. I can't say that Sammy is exactly my idea of a husband; but this girl is apparently wildly in love, and thinks herself ever so lucky. They are both staying here. It seems that old Lady Broxbourne is delighted, and the wedding is to be in a few weeks' time. For my sins I have promised to do all I can for the bride this season; she is quite provincial, you know, and has everything to learn, and she clings to me almost pathetically. So I am afraid our little jaunt abroad will be knocked on the head till the summer, at all events; and then I think we ought to coax a yacht out of Rupert, and have a real good time. What do you think?"

Yelverton was very quiet without Camilla, and the children fretted for her a good deal.

Caroline herself was actually conscious of a sensation of void and loneliness. She could never pa.s.s the room where Camilla had been without a sort of pang.

Long ago she had ceased to question or to speculate on the extraordinary power of this other woman; to ask herself why or why not certain things should be! She simply recognized that, despite all that had gone and all that might come, she loved Camilla with a deep, and an anxious love, and would always give homage to the caressing, the bewitching influence of this beautiful, this most unreliable of women.

Sometimes, indeed, Caroline confessed to herself that even with her eyes widely opened as they now were, she would still do what she had done in the past, and if protection were needed, exert every effort of wit and courage to stand beside Camilla and keep trouble away.

And this although she had sacrificed her own feelings so vainly, although she knew Camilla would have been totally unable of comprehending what that apparent friendship with Broxbourne had cost her, and what real suffering had come to her through it.

On the day the letter came containing the news of the approaching Broxbourne marriage, Caroline left the children playing hide-and-seek in the hall, and went out for a little walk.

The day was bleak, and she felt the cold penetrate her heart.

She pushed on quickly till she left the house well behind her, and then she sat down and closed her eyes. Of late there had been many moments when she had felt tired out in spirit, when life would seem empty and unprofitable; such a mood fell upon her now. She was not sure if it was disappointment or a sense of relief that followed on the realization that she was not to be uprooted from the life of the last six months.

All she knew was that she had become so nervous that she winced when the children screamed either in play or temper, and that she had a strong desire to scream herself sometimes.

"I think I will go off somewhere all by myself for a week or two," she mused now. "I know I must be horrid to live with just now. When I banged my books down on the table last night, I saw Mr. Brenton look at me as if he thought I had gone mad. I believe I ought to have taken Mr.

Haverford's advice, and have travelled a little last year. I should hate to leave the children now, but I am not at all sure it would not be a good thing for them. Perhaps I will talk it over with Mrs.

Brenton." A moment later she said, "No, I don't think I will. If I do she will only question, and if she wants to know what is wrong, and why I want to go away, what on earth am I to say to her? If I cannot satisfy myself I am not likely to satisfy her."

With a sharp sigh she relinquished this train of thought, and leaning back, she closed her eyes, and remained with them closed for a little while. Then all at once she was conscious that some one was watching her, and she opened her eyes quickly. In reality, Rupert was not looking at her, but was pacing to and fro in front of the bench.

As she sat forward with a jerk, he turned and came hurriedly towards her.

"What madness brought you out here to sleep?" he queried, almost sharply.

Caroline knit her brows.

"I don't think I have been asleep," she answered. Then confusedly, "How long have you been here?"

"Ten minutes--a quarter of an hour?"

He continued to look at her fixedly.

"You are ill," he said; "you look very white. Mrs. Brenton wrote me she was anxious about you; that is what brought me down to-day."

This brought the colour flaming to her cheeks.

"I am perfectly well. I am always well!"