Second String Part 63

Jack took her hand. "It wasn't my place to do it. I ask your pardon."

Then he turned to the Nun. "You'll excuse me, miss?"

The Nun smiled radiantly at him. "I hate your going, Jack. Perhaps you'd better, though. Only don't be unhappy. There's no harm done, you know."

Jack shook his head again sadly, then put his hat on it with a rueful air. He regarded Vivien for a moment with a ponderous sorrow, lifted his hat again, shook his head again, and walked out of the garden. The Nun gave a short gurgle, and then regained a serene and silent composure. It was most certainly a case for allowing the other side to take first innings! Vivien sat down in the seat that Jack had vacated in such sad confusion.

"It was about--Harry?" she asked slowly. "You all hear and know! I hear nothing, I know nothing. n.o.body mentions him to me. Not Andy, not my father any more. Mr. Belfield said a word or two once--not happy words.

Except for that--well, he might be dead! I don't see the use of treating me like that. I think I've a right to know."

"What Jack said was more about you really. There's no fresh news about Harry."

While saying these words, the Nun allowed her look at Vivien to be very direct. "You must accept that as final," the look seemed to say.

"Lots of men, good men, make a mistake, one mistake, about things like that. He'll be all right now--with his boy."

"He's had a love affair, repented of it--and probably started another since that event. The child, if I remember, is about five months old."

Still with her gaze direct, the Nun laughed. Vivien flushed. "There's no other way to take it," the Nun a.s.sured her.

Vivien spoke low; her cheeks red, her eyes dim. "I gave him all my heart, oh, so readily--and such trust! Doris, did he ever make love to you?"

"As a general rule I don't tell tales. In this case I feel free to say that he did."

Vivien's smile was woeful. "What, he wanted to marry you too once?"

"Oh no, he never wanted to marry me, Vivien."

It was drastic treatment--and the doctor paid for it as well as the patient.

"But you went on being friends with him!"

"I became friends with him again--presently," the Nun corrected. "I suppose I don't come well out of it, according to your views. I know the difference there is between us in that way. Look at your life and mine!

That's bound to make a difference. Besides, it would have been taking him much too seriously."

"I think you're rather hard, Doris."

"Thank G.o.d, I am, my dear! I need it."

"It's a terrible thing to make the mistake I did."

"It's worse to go on with it."

"I should have liked to go on with it. I feel as people must who've lost their religion."

"Is that so sad, if the religion is proved not to be true?"

"Yes, terribly sad." Vivien's back was to the street. She wept silently; none saw her tears save Doris. "I thought I had lost everything. It's worse to find that you never had anything, and have lost nothing."

"It's good to find that out, when it's true," Doris persisted stoutly.

"But I hope he won't happen on any more girls like you. With the proper people--his Mrs. Freeres and Lady Lucies--the thing's a farce. That's all right!"

Her bitter ridicule pierced the armour of Vivien's recollection. With the proper people it was all a farce. She had taken it as a tragedy. Her tears ceased to flow, but her colour came hot again.

"I don't know anything about those women--I never heard their names--but he seems to have insulted me almost as much as he insulted you."

The Nun was relentless. "In both cases he considered, and still considers, that he paid a very high compliment. And he'll find lots of women to agree with him."

"Doris, be kind to me. I've n.o.body else!"

"The Lord forgive you for saying so! You've the luck of one girl in ten thousand." Now the Nun's colour grew a little hot; she raised herself on her elbow. "Here are your two men. One's going to lead a big life, while the other's chasing petticoats!"

"You think the world of Andy, don't you, Doris?"

"I'd think the universe of him if he'd give you a shaking."

Vivien smiled, rose, came to the Nun, and kissed her. The Nun's lips quivered. "He's coming down at the end of the week," said Vivien. Her voice fell to a whisper. "He's not quite so patient as you think." With another kiss she was swiftly gone.

The Nun sat on, gazing at Meriton High Street. Sally Dutton came out of the house and regarded the same prospect with an air of criticism or even of disfavour.

"I think it's all coming right about Vivien and Andy," the Nun remarked.

Sally turned her critical eyes on her friend. "Have you been helping?"

"Just a little bit perhaps, Sally." She paused a moment. "I shall be rather glad to have it settled."

The motor-car drew up at the door.

"You'll not have more than enough time for lunch before your matinee, Miss Flower," Seymour observed, with his usual indifferent air. Not his business whether she were in time, but he might as well mention the matter!

"My hat and cloak!" cried the Nun, springing up. She took Sally's arm and ran her into the house with her. "Hurrah for work, Sally!"

Suddenly Sally threw her arms round her friend's neck and exclaimed, with something very like a sob, "Oh, my darling, if only you could have everything you want!"

The Nun's lips quivered again; her bright eyes were a little dim. "But, Sally dear, I never fall in love!"

Miss Dutton relapsed, with equal abruptness, into her habitual demeanour.

"Well, he's a man--and a fool like all the rest of them!" she remarked.

The Nun gurgled. A record was saved--at the last moment. Because she did not cry--any more than she fell in love.

The Nun came out, equipped for the journey. She was smiling still. "Do I look all right, Seymour?"

"At the best of your looks, if I may say so, Miss Flower."

"Thank you very much, Seymour. Get in with you, Sally! You are a slow girl, always!"

She pressed Sally's hand as the car started. "Much better like this, really. I have always Seymour's admiration."

His name caught Seymour's ear. "I beg your pardon, Miss Flower?"