Rosa Mundi and Other Stories Part 18

"Going already?" he said. "Good-night!"

"Good-night!" said Nina.

She glanced at him with momentary indecision. Then she held out her hand.

He took it and kept it.

"I think you will have to kiss me on our wedding night," he said.

She turned very white. The hunted look had returned to her eyes. She answered him with the rapidity of desperation.

"You can do as you like with me now," she said. "I am not able to prevent you."

"You mean you would rather not?" he said, without the smallest hint of anger or disappointment in his tone.

She started a little at the question. There was no escaping the searching of his eyes.

"Of course I would rather not," she said.

He released her quivering hand and walked quietly to the door.

"Good-night, Nina!" he said, as he opened it.

She stood for a moment before she realized that he had yielded to her wish. Then, as he waited, she made a sudden impulsive movement towards him.

Her fingers rested for an instant on his arm.

"Good-night--Hereford!" she said.

He looked down at her hand, not offering to touch it. His lips relaxed cynically.

"Don't overwhelm me!" he said.

And in a flash she had pa.s.sed him with blazing eyes and a heart that was full of fierce anger. So this was his reception of her first overture!

Her cheeks burnt as she vowed to herself that she would attempt no more.

She did not see her husband again that night.

When they met in the morning, he seemed to have forgotten that they had parted in a somewhat strained atmosphere. The only peculiarity about his greeting was that it did not seem to occur to him to shake hands.

"There is plenty to do if you're feeling energetic," he said. 'Driving, riding, mountaineering, boating; which shall it be?"

"Have you no preference?" she asked, as she faced him over the coffee-urn.

He smiled slightly.

"Yes, I have," he said. "But let me hear yours first!"

"Driving," she said at once. "And now yours?"

"Mine was none of these things," he answered. "I wonder what sort of conveyance they can provide us with? Also what manner of horse? Are you going to drive or am I? Mind, you are to state your preference."

"Very well," she answered. "Then I'll drive, please, I know this country a little. I stayed near here three years ago with the Nevilles. Archie and I used to fish."

"Did you ever catch anything?" Wingarde asked, with his quiet eyes on her face.

"Of course we did," she answered. "Salmon trout--beauties. Oh, and other things. I forget what they were called. We had great fun, I remember."

Her face flushed at the remembrance. Archie had been very romantic in those days, quite foolishly so. But somehow she had enjoyed it.

Wingarde said no more. He rose directly the meal was over. It was a perfect summer morning. The view from the windows was exquisite. Beyond the green stretches of the park rose peak after peak of sunlit mountains. There were a few cloud-shadows floating here and there. In one place, gleaming like a thread of silver, he could see a waterfall tumbling down a barren hillside.

Suddenly, through the summer silence, an octave of bells pealed joyously.

Nina started

"Why, it's Sunday!" she exclaimed. "I had quite forgotten. We ought to go to church."

Wingarde turned round.

"What an inspiration!" he said dryly.

His tone offended her. She drew herself up.

"Are you coming?" she asked coldly.

He looked at her with the same cynical smile with which he had received her overture the night before.

"No," he said. "I won't bore you with my company this morning."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"As you please," she said, turning to the door.

He made no rejoinder. And as she pa.s.sed out, she realized that he believed she had suggested going to church in order to escape an hour of his hated society. It was but a slight injustice and certainly not wholly unprovoked by her. But, curiously, she resented it very strongly.

She almost felt as if he had insulted her.

She found him smoking in the garden when she returned from her solitary expedition, and she hoped savagely that he had found his own society as distasteful as she did; though on second thoughts this seemed scarcely possible.

She decided regretfully, yet with an inner sense of expediency, that she would spend the afternoon in his company. But her husband had other plans.

"You have had a hot walk," he said. "You had better rest this afternoon.

I am going to do a little mountaineering; but I mean to be back by tea-time. Perhaps when it is cool you will come for a stroll, unless you have arranged to attend the evening service also."

He glanced at her and saw the indignant colour rise in her face. But she was too proud to protest.

"As you wish," she said coldly.

Conversation during lunch was distinctly laboured. Wingarde's silences were many and oppressive. It was an unspeakable relief to the girl when at length he took himself off. She told herself with a wry smile that he was getting on her nerves. She did not yet own that he frightened her.