The Gambler Part 82

"So you owe the decorations to Deerehurst?" he said in a low voice.

There was a short silence. Then suddenly he rose and stepped to Clodagh's side.

"Dear, forgive me!" he said.

At the unexpected words, Clodagh's heart swelled. With a sudden impulse she caught the hand he had laid upon her shoulder and pressed it against her face.

"No, Walter!" she said. "Say all that was in your mind! Be angry, if you like!"

For answer, Gore seated himself beside her on the window-sill.

"I don't think I should ever be angry with you," he said gently. "Anger seems to belong to lesser things than--love. I should either believe in you or disbelieve in you."

He said the somewhat curious words gravely.

Clodagh turned to him swiftly.

"Walter, there was no doubt of me in your mind then?"

He met her searching eyes quietly.

"Not one doubt. Do you think I have forgotten that night at Tuffnell?"

He spoke almost gently; but at his words, the remembrance of the night at Tuffnell rushed back upon Clodagh with an almost exaggerated vividness. On that night love had shone upon her--love, with its coveted accompaniments of trust and protection. She remembered the dimly-lit music-room, the dark garden with its old-fashioned scents; she remembered Gore's quiet, distinct question. "Not one of these people is anything to you--in any way?"

She remembered this; and she remembered also the infinitesimal pause that had divided his question from her answer, when the images of Lady Frances Hope, of Serracauld, of Deerehurst, had flitted across her imagination. Then, last of all, she recalled her own answer--

"Not one of them is anything to me--in any way."

The moment that had brought forth that answer had been crucial--had been, psychologically, intensely interesting. It had been the triumph of love--the triumph of the egotism that is, and ever must be, a component part of love.

And now, as she reviewed the incident in the colder light of day--as she turned involuntarily and looked at Gore--she was suddenly mastered by the certain knowledge that, were the circ.u.mstance to be repeated, her action would be the same.

With a swift movement, she held out her hand.

"Walter," she said impulsively, "you are the only person in the world!

No one else exists!"

It was an hour later, and the outward aspect of Clodagh's drawing-room had been changed. The sunblinds had been drawn up, and a full flood of light allowed to pour in across the table in the window; the _debris_ of leaves and stalks upon the table--and with them Deerehurst's card--had been removed to give place to a tea-tray; while through the room itself rang the gay talk and laughter of people who have enjoyed a genuinely pleasant meal.

The tea had been disposed of some little time ago; but Nance still lingered beside the tea-table; and at her side stood Gore and a young man of five-and-twenty, with a tall, slight figure, a pale face, and intensely shrewd and penetrating eyes.

Clodagh, still wearing her riding habit, sat in the centre of the room in radiantly high spirits, talking animatedly to a distinguished-looking woman with beautiful white hair, and to a slim, graceful girl of about Nance's age, who sat one on either side of her.

"Isn't it unkind of Mrs. Estcoit, Pierce?" she said, suddenly turning towards the tea-table. "She says you must go!"

Estcoit laughed--and when he laughed a very agreeable gleam of humour showed in his shrewd eyes.

"But it takes my mother ten minutes to go from anywhere," he said. "Ask Nance if it doesn't!"

Clodagh laughed gaily.

"Good! Then I can ask ten more questions about Boston. Mrs. Estcoit, please tell me----"

But she paused before her sentence was finished. For the handle of the door had turned; and, looking up quickly, she saw the tall figure of Deerehurst.

Had any member of the party looked at her in that moment, he or she would have seen a wave of colour sweep across her face, then die out, leaving her almost white. But beyond this, she betrayed no emotion; and, a moment later, when Deerehurst came towards her across the room with his habitual slow, silent step, she raised her head, smiling a conventional welcome, and held out her hand.

He took it silently, and with a slightly ostentatious impressiveness.

"A thousand apologies if I intrude on a social gathering," he murmured.

"But on returning home, I chanced upon the book we were discussing to-day, and remembering how interested you were----" With a very quiet movement he laid a small and costly little book of verses on the arm of Clodagh's chair, and turned with his usual dignity to where Nance was standing.

"How d'you do, Miss a.s.shlin! Is it too late to beg for a cup of tea?"

Nance held out her hand.

"I'm afraid 'twill be rather cold," she said a little ungraciously.

"But if you don't mind that, will you please ring the bell? We shall want another cup."

Estcoit glanced at her, a humorous look hovering about his thin lips; and at the same instant Gore was conscious of a sudden wave of brotherly affection.

But Deerehurst showed no embarra.s.sment. He turned to the fireplace, pressed the bell, then looked round again upon the little group.

"Hallo, Gore!" he said carelessly. "I thought you were killing salmon at the home of the ancestors. How d'you do, Mr. Estcoit?"

He nodded to the young American; then moved away again to where Clodagh sat.

"What a dreadful afternoon!" he said. "Why haven't you changed into something lighter?" He glanced at her riding habit.

She blushed and looked up hastily.

"We have just been saying what a glorious afternoon! But I don't think you have met Mrs. and Miss Estcoit. Let me introduce you! Lord Deerehurst, Mrs. Estcoit!"

Both ladies bowed, and Mrs. Estcoit broke at once into an unaffected flow of talk, to which Deerehurst listened with polite interest, smiling now and then, and occasionally raising his eyegla.s.s.

At last, as she paused, he looked at her in faint curiosity.

"And you really find an interest in England?" he asked.

She gave a bright, cordial laugh--a laugh that seemed to testify to the perennial youth of her countrywomen.

"This is the twenty-first visit I've paid to England," she said, "and I love it more every time. When my son turns me out of my home in Boston, I shall buy one of your country places--as a dower-house!" Again she laughed, casting an affectionate glance towards Nance and Estcoit!

"But, Clodagh, we really must fly. Good-bye, Lord Deerehurst! Delighted to have met you!" She rose gracefully, shook hands with the old peer, and turning to Clodagh, took both her hands and kissed her warmly.

"Good-bye!" she said--"good-bye! It has been perfectly charming!"

Clodagh smiled a quick response.