The Duchess of Wrexe Part 70

The man put his arm about her and tried to draw her from the wall.

"Come," he said. "We'll go home."

She drew away. He pulled at her hand. "d.a.m.n the O----Place. Wash the matter? You got to come."

Then he seized her by the arm, and, still lurching from side to side, began to move away.

"No, no," she whispered, obviously terrified of a scene, but using all her strength to resist. Her eyes again met Breton's.

"That lady," he said, advancing to the stout gentleman, "is a friend of mine."

The man looked at him with an expression astonished, simply and rather puzzled.

"Wash--wash...?" he said.

"You'll be so good as to leave that lady alone."

"Well, I'm b----well d.a.m.ned. Oh! gosh." The stout gentleman contemplated him with furious amazement.

"'Oo the b----'ell I'd like to know? Get out or I'll kick yer out."

The quarrel had by now gathered its crowd.

The stout gentleman, lurching forward, aimed a blow at Breton which missed him.

"Let her alone, do you hear?" cried Breton.

The stout gentleman, amazed, apparently, at a world that defied all the probabilities, turned, caught the girl by the body and, dragging her with him, pushed past his opponent.

Breton seized him by the waist, turned him round so that, with a little puzzled gasp, he half fell, half sat upon the cushioned seat against the wall.

Then Breton offered the girl his arm and walked away with her, conscious that an attendant had arrived rather late upon the scene and was now abusing the stout gentleman, whilst a sympathetic little crowd listened and advised.

He walked down the stairs with the girl. "That _was_ decent of you," she said. "Most awfully----"

Beyond the doors the world was a hissing, spurting deluge of rain.

A cab was called and she climbed into it.

"What about coming back?" she said. He shook his head.

"Not to-night. You have a good rest. That's what you want."

"Well, I _am_ done. Meet 'nother night p'raps----"

"I hope so," he said politely. He raised his hat and the cab splashed away.

"Another cab, sir?" said the commissionaire.

"No, thanks," said Breton, and plunged out into the rain. The air was fresh and cool. Streams of water danced and spurted on the gleaming pavements.

Breton walked along. The little adventure had swept completely from his mind his earlier desperate decisions.

There were still things for him to do! Poor little girl ... he was glad that he had been there! What a fool he had been all these weeks, sitting there, letting himself go to pieces because the world had gone badly!

What sort of a creature was he? Well, he was some good yet. Just one twist of the hand and that man had gone down ... Yes, she was grateful.... Her eyes had shone.

And what of the candles, his business? Why had he allowed that to drop when he had made, already, so good a start? He would be in the City early to-morrow. Business was humming just now.

And Rachel? Rachel!

Let him be content to have her as his ideal, his fine beacon to light him on, to hold him to his work and do the best that was in him!

After all, things were for the best. They would always have their fine memories, one of the other. Nothing to spoil that idyll.

He arrived, soaked to the very skin, at his door. "Funny," he thought, "how that thunder depresses one. I've been moody for weeks. Air's ever so much clearer now. G.o.d, didn't that old beast tumble?--Poor little girl--she _was_ grateful though!"

Then as he opened the door, he remembered what Christopher had, that evening, told him.

"To-morrow," he said to himself, in a fine glow of hope and confidence, "to-morrow I'll get to work and soon stop that wicked old woman's mouth.

Rachel--G.o.d bless her--I'll show her what I'm like...."

He climbed the dark stairs as though he were storming a town.

CHAPTER V

MARCH 13th: RACHEL'S HEART

"When G.o.d smote His hands together, and struck out the soul at a spark, Into the organized glory of things, from drops of the dark,-- Say, didst thou shine, didst thou burn, didst thou honour the power in the form, As the star does at night, or the fire-fly, or even the little ground-worm?

'I have sinned,' she said."

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

I

Meanwhile Rachel had not spoken to Roddy. Bad though the months had been since that terrible afternoon at Seddon these days that followed the d.u.c.h.ess's visit were the worst that she had ever known.

During the weeks that immediately followed Roddy's accident she was allowed no line for thought. She discovered--and she never forgot the sharpness of the discovery--that she was the poorest of nurses.

Everything that she did was clumsily and slowly done; she watched Lizzie Rand with admiration and wonder. Dimly through the absorption that held her, thoughts of Francis Breton pierced, but always to be instantly dismissed.

Before her was simply the amazing, incredible fact that Roddy, the most active, the most vigorous of human beings, would never stand upon his feet again. She could see nothing but Roddy, and no service, no sacrifice, was too stern or too difficult. Meanwhile subtly, almost unconsciously, she was influenced by Lizzie Rand. It was not strange to her that Lizzie should have changed so swiftly from hatred to friendship and affection. Rachel was pa.s.sionate enough herself to understand that a woman will go, instantly, to the person who needs her most, even though she has hated that same person five minutes before. No, the thing that was wonderful to her was that Lizzie Rand should combine such feeling with such discipline.

To watch her as she moved about Roddy's rooms was to deny to her the possibility of emotion, of anything that could disturb that efficiency.

And yet Rachel knew ... she had seen depths of feeling in Lizzie that made her own desires and regrets small and puny things.