The Man with the Double Heart Part 69

"I found your letter at my Club," McTaggart explained, "on my way home.

So I thought I'd just run down and see how you and Roddy were getting on."

He avoided a more direct allusion to Mrs. Uniacke's crowning folly, though he longed to express his sympathy. He knew, of old, Jill's pride.

"Roddy's out," said the girl, "he's gone to the theatre with a school friend. He didn't _want_ to, but I told him he must! He's awfully cut up about it all. But it's no good crying over spilt milk"--she smiled bravely--"is it, Peter? It's _done_ now. That's the worst of marriage--it's for always." She checked a sigh.

As his eyes drank in the pretty face McTaggart decided to himself it might be also "the best of it!" But out aloud he responded quickly, glad she had broken the ice herself.

"I'm _awfully_ sorry. I can't tell you how I feel about the whole affair. It's ... the limit!" his face was wrathful. "I'd like to have Stephen to myself for a little ... active argument. Gloves off--you understand?"

"Rather!" her face warmed at the thought. "It's odd you should say that, though. I once dreamed I saw you both fighting a duel. I believe I told you--that day in the car--how I woke up before the end, not knowing which side had won."

McTaggart smiled somewhat grimly.

"It's going to happen. In real life," he watched the girl. "But I can't win, Jill, without your help--that's certain!"

She looked up, surprised at his words.

"Of course I'll help--if I possibly can. But what do you mean? Have you really something against Stephen?" A shadow fell on her eager face as she went on, in a burst of confidence.

"It's so awful, Peter, to think that he is, legally, you know, our stepfather. It's all right for me because I'm grown up and can hold my own--but there's poor old Roddy! He's only a boy--that's where Stephen gets the pull. And just now----" she broke off--"I don't think I told you--in my letters, I mean--but there's been a thundering row at home.

"Roddy's told Mother he wants to be an artist and she's simply furious!

She's set her heart on his going into the Army. She doesn't see that, without private means, it's frightfully hard on any man. It would be, of course, the Indian Service, and I can't bear to think of Roddy going abroad for the rest of his life. For it comes to that, practically.

Besides, he hates the whole idea. He's not fitted for a soldier. I'm sure if Father were alive he'd agree with me. I _know_ he would!"

She leaned back on the music stool, her hands clasped around her knees.

The moonlight fell full on her face, showing the shadows under her eyes and the traces of recent suffering.

McTaggart longed to gather her up in his arms and comfort her like a child.

Never, he thought, had she looked so sweet! To him her faded gown of blue--bound about the slender waist with a narrow ribbon of black velvet, and cut open at her throat, showing, too, the rounded arms bare to the elbow--so plainly shabby, was the prettiest dress in all the world.

In her dark hair, forgotten, there lay a single pale nasturtium, gathered earlier in the garden, and it shone among the ruffled curls like a star in the shadow of a cloud.

"Roddy _is_ an artist--now." Jill went on defiantly, unconscious of the admiration in McTaggart's blue eyes. "And I don't see why his whole life should be ruined--just to please Mother! I told her so.

And I tried, too, to show her that boys nowadays are allowed to choose their own professions. That it's prehistoric to say that until he's twenty-one _she_ 'knows best'--He's a human being, like herself--and he's only got one life to live!

"Supposing Granny had said to Mother: 'My dear child, you _must_ be an active Anti-Suffragette--that's my wish. _I_ know best--I'm older than you,' d'you think she'd have stood it? Rather not! But, of course, Stephen will take her part--unless----" she laughed, a sudden mischief breaking through the gravity of her young face--"he thinks Sandhurst too expensive! That might save it--happy thought! I'll find out exactly what it costs and talk to Stephen--you do, too, whenever you see him, won't you, Peter?"

"I'll do any mortal thing you ask!"

Something in his earnest voice startled Jill. She glanced sharply in his direction through the shadows that were filling the corners of the room.

"Then that's settled," she said coolly. "I think, perhaps, I'll light the lamp. It's getting almost dark in here."

But he checked her.

"Don't!--The moon's so lovely. It would be a shame to shut it out."

In the low chair where he sat, half hidden, his back to the light, he felt he had a certain advantage over the girl facing the window. He could watch her to his heart's content, gaze up into those fearless eyes, with their long and curving sweep of lashes.

"I've got a plan of my own, Jill. I came down to talk it over." He drew his chair a shade nearer, at her feet now--lightly crossed, the slender ankles visible under the shrunk washing frock.

"I think we can get a rise out of Stephen--if we work together, you and I."

"How?" She was watching him doubtfully. Again he felt that hint of repression, as though she stood upon her guard.

"I'll tell you about Roddy first--a scheme I have for his future. To take him right away from Stephen--kidnap him!" he laughed at her--"and give him a thorough training abroad. I thought of the Art schools at Rome. Let him have the best masters from the beginning. If he likes it he's in the right atmosphere. It's a wonderful place, to my mind, Rome ... It's not like a Public School, of course. At one time I used to think that ... _everything_! But now that I've knocked about a bit I believe that there's nothing half so good as travel for an Englishman--we're too insular by far!

"He's jolly clever--those sketches of his show he has talent--if not genius. I honestly think--with a proper chance--he'll make a name for himself one day."

"_Do_ you?" She beamed whole-heartedly on the speaker, self-forgetful again. "I think it sounds _too_ lovely!--If only----" she sighed--"it could be done. But Mother would never hear of it. Besides, if she did, we're not rich. Think of what it means, Peter. Why, the journeys alone, from here to Italy and back again for the holidays, would cost a perfect little fortune--let alone his other expenses."

"He needn't return to England at all--once he's there," said McTaggart quickly--"that is, not if you agree to the _whole_ plan." His voice changed. A pleading note crept into it, his eyes watched her anxiously.

"He could come--for the holidays ... to _us_!"

There came a pause, silent, but full.

"Jill--little Jill--don't you understand? Don't you know what I _want_--what I'm trying to say?"

From the low chair where he sat he reached up and tried to capture the hands clasped round her knees. But, with a swift movement, she drew them away, her head high, her face proud.

"To _us_!..." she repeated his words slowly. "Are you asking me to ...

_marry_ you, Peter?"

The words were jerky. Her gray eyes were fixed still on the garden ahead as though she dared not look at him.

"Yes," he said simply--"I love you, Jill."

But she sat like a maiden turned to stone, untouched, unresponsive.

The cold hand of fear crept round his heart as he watched her face.

Was she going to refuse him? Could it be--after all--Bethune!

"Jill--" his voice was very low--"Aren't you going to answer me?" He bent closer--"Don't you ... care?"

She stirred restlessly under his eyes, her own averted. Then she spoke.

"Why should you think ... I cared for you?" Unconsciously her hand stole to her throat, feeling for the chain that hung concealed by the lace of her collar; and, noting the gesture, McTaggart divined her secret thought.

Light poured in, dispelling his fears. That scene at Cluar ... the "double heart!" that lay upon her girlish breast.

"I don't!" he caught her up quickly. "I only wish to Heaven I did.

You've never given the slightest sign--I know myself ... but not _you_."