The Stronger Influence Part 12

"I was just asking Rose who your correspondent was," he said, with overdone ease of manner. "She pretends she doesn't know."

"She does not know," Esme answered coolly, and took the letter from his hand and glanced at it casually.

"Well, but, see here," he returned, nettled but intent on information.

"We are interested--naturally."

"How can you be interested in some one you have never met?" she said, and went on up the steep narrow stairs, carrying her letter with her.

"I'm blowed!" her brother-in-law e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

Rose laughed annoyingly.

"You made a hash of that," she said. "She won't say anything now."

"Then let her keep her mouth shut," he said rudely, and went into the sitting-room in a ruffled state of mind.

Book 2--CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The receipt of those weekly letters and the pleasurable occupation of replying to them engrossed Esme's thoughts, changed all her outlook, filled her life completely. She was falling very deeply in love. And she believed that Paul Hallam loved her. He did not tell her so in words, but every letter which came from him conveyed the idea that it was for her sake entirely he was attempting what no other influence would have led him to attempt, that when he was sure of himself he would come to her. She waited and hoped and hugged her secret to herself, determined to guard from others the knowledge of his weakness, which he was so earnestly endeavouring to conquer.

He had left the Zuurberg for the coast, and was staying at Camp's Bay, right on the beach, he explained, in writing her a description of his new quarters.

"You would love it here," he wrote. "The road between Camp's Bay and Seapoint surpa.s.ses everything for beauty. You've no idea how fine it is in the early morning."

In another letter he said: "The moonlight on the sea has set me thinking of you. If only we were watching it together! The surface of the sea is all splashed with silver, broken up and spread over it in a running liquid fire. One day I hope you will watch it with me. I see it from the window as I write."

She treasured these letters and tied them about and locked them away from sight. They brought him very near to her; and his detailed descriptions of his walks, his surroundings, helped her to visualise him. She longed to see him again; but she never allowed a breath of her longing to find expression in the cheery letters she wrote in answer to his.

In the meantime Sinclair pursued his courtship in blissful unconsciousness of the hopelessness of his cause. Esme had come to accept Sinclair's friendship as a matter of course. Their relations were very fraternal. They called one another by their christian names.

Sinclair was George to everyone in the Bainbridge household, down to the children, who viewed him with affectionate interest as a person who understood small people's tastes in the matter of sweets.

Every Sat.u.r.day he came in for tennis, and returned with Esme to the house in Havelock Street for supper. Usually on Sundays he took Esme and the children to Red House, and they spent the day on the river. He brightened life for her considerably. She liked him. In a friendly, wholly unsentimental fashion she was fond of him. Had there been no one else in her life her affection would probably have developed into a warmer sentiment. But she never thought of George Sinclair in the light of a possible lover. He never made love to her. Not once in their pleasant intercourse had he said anything she could have construed into an attempt at love-making. His manner was affectionate and kind always.

He was a good chum. That was how she thought of him, as a good chum.

The awakening therefore was all the more startling when it came.

Sinclair seized his opportunity during the tennis tournament. With considerable difficulty he persuaded her to partner him in the mixed doubles. She was reluctant on account of being a weak player; but he overruled her objections, and she gave way.

"You'll lose--with me," she warned him. "I'm not good at games ever."

"I'll take my chance of that," he replied. "Anyway, I'd rather lose with you than win with any one else."

Esme practised untiringly before the event. She had never attended the tournament before other than as a spectator, and the sight of the crowds which gathered each day to view the events shook her nerve. She played badly, and felt rather aggrieved that her partner managed to drag her victoriously through their first set. After their game she sat with him below the stand and reproached him for winning.

"It would be all over now if you hadn't cribbed half my b.a.l.l.s," she complained.

"But you don't want to be out of it really?" he said, surprised.

"I do--and I don't. It makes me jumpy."

"That's all right. You'll get your tail up later. I'm going to win, you know. I'm going to pull this off."

"You've got your work cut out," she said, and laughed. "You'll get very little help from me."

"I only ask your co-operation," he returned confidently. "Take what you can, and leave the rest to me. I'm out to win. You see, we are coming through together."

She did see. And with each set they played and won her astonishment deepened. She had always known that he was a good player, but she had not realised the reserve force which he could bring into his game when he wanted it. It was something more than play, she decided, which carried him through; it was sheer determination not to be beaten. They came through the finals with a hard-won victory.

Jim and Rose were present to watch the finish. According to Jim, his sister-in-law played a footling game.

"At least she didn't hamper her partner," Rose said.

"Hamper him! No. She might as well have been off the court altogether."

"Her service is good," Rose insisted.

"Yes--for a girl." He chuckled. "She leaves him to make all the running."

"Well, they won anyhow."

"_He_ won," he corrected. "Shouldn't be surprised if he didn't win all along the line. He has only a bundle of letters to compete against. My money is on the man on the spot all the time."

"Hush!" Rose said warningly. "Here they come."

She hailed the winners with smiling congratulations, and complimented Sinclair on his play.

"We pulled it off all right, Mrs Bainbridge," he said, laughing, looking hot and young and immeasurably contented with life. "Esme funked right to the finish, but she played up like a good 'un. Whew!

I'm hot. Come on, partner; let's go and have a lemon squash."

The girl, flushed and tired and less elated with success than he was, followed him to the back of the pavilion, and stood drinking lemonade, and talking to a little knot of compet.i.tors who were there for a similar purpose. Some of the players she knew, but a number of them were visitors down for the tournament. A dance that night at the Town Hall was to celebrate the finish of the festivities. A group of flannel-clad young men and white-frocked young women were discussing the ball and booking dances in advance. Some one came up to Esme and asked her for a dance, which she promised willingly. In a very short while she had given a number of dances away. Sinclair touched her arm.

"I want some," he said. "I want quite a lot."

His tone was urgent, and when she turned to look at him she saw that his face was strained and very determined. The expression in his eyes puzzled her.

"Of course," she said, "I should feel a little hurt if you didn't."

"Look here!" he said in an undertone. "Come out of this. I don't want you to give away any more--not at present. I'm going to have the supper dance, and everything after that. Is it a promise?"

"Well," she said, and looked somewhat doubtful. "That means that you are booked for the entire half of my programme."

He nodded.

"That's it," he said.

"But,"--she was beginning, when he took hold of her arm and led her outside, with a muttered reference to the stifling heat.

"Come and sit under the trees," he said. "I want to watch the set on the far court."

It was one of the less interesting sets, and there were fewer spectators, which was probably why he decided for it. He conducted her to an unoccupied seat and sat down beside her.