The Vision of Desire Part 25

As she lay in bed that night, her mind a confused jumble of the day's happenings, one thought rose clear above the medley--the memory of his last words to her:

"You need never imagine you're not wanted at the Cottage. I like to think of you there."

CHAPTER XIV

THE ETERNAL TRIANGLE

Under Brett Forrester's tutelage, Ann's progress in the art of swimming proceeded apace. Since his arrival at White Windows, the weather had been perfect--still, dewy mornings, veiled in mist, melting by midday into a blaze of deep blue skies and brilliant sunshine--and every day Ann and Mrs.

Hilyard, accompanied by Forrester and very often by Robin in addition, might have been seen descending to Berrier Cove, the favourite bathing beach of the neighbourhood. Quite frequently, too, Lady Susan would join them in the water--she was an excellent straight-forward swimmer, though "without any monkey tricks," as she regretfully acknowledged. On these occasions the Tribes of Israel would sit in a mournful row along the sh.o.r.e, watching the proceedings with concerned brown eyes. They themselves, individually and collectively, exhibited an unfeigned distaste for every form of aquatic sport which, Brett wickedly suggested, might be due to some subconscious atavistic emotion relative to the Red Sea episode. When they had suffered their adored mistress's temerity in silence for as long as canine toleration could be expected to endure, one or other of them would lift up his voice in a long-drawn wail of protest, the others would immediately join in, and the chorus of howls continued to make day hideous until Lady Susan issued from the water and hurried into her tent to dress.

Punishment and persuasion proved equally futile as a corrective.

Inexplicable though it appeared, their mistress apparently derived some obscure satisfaction out of the process of splashing about in the wet sea, and because they loved her they bore it as long as they could. But after the expiration of a certain time-limit nothing could quiet them except Lady Susan's prompt emergence from the water.

Tony's arrival had added yet another member to the bathing contingent. He seemed to have forgotten all his troubles, and entered with zest into any and every sort of amus.e.m.e.nt which Silverquay afforded. A letter Ann had received from Sir Philip was primarily responsible for this care-free att.i.tude. "Keep Tony as long as you want," the old man had written. "But you may tell the young fool he can come home when he likes. I shan't bite his head off." A slow, pleased smile had dawned on Tony's face as Ann read out this particular extract from the letter. Quarrel as he and his uncle might, they were genuinely fond of each other, and although Tony would not for worlds have admitted it, the knowledge that Sir Philip was really seriously annoyed with him had weighed heavily on his mind.

Since the removal of this incubus he had reverted to his usual high spirits and, between them, he and Brett Forrester had "made things hum," as he described it. Boating, bathing, and picnics had been the order of the day, and the latest proposal, emanating from Forrester, was that they should all dine one evening on board the _Sphinx_. The date had been fixed to coincide with a night of full moon, and the invitations included both Eliot Coventry and the two Tempests.

The former had taken but little part in the summer diversions inaugurated by Brett and Tony. Nevertheless, he had been persuaded into joining one of the picnics. On this occasion the hostess had been Lady Susan, and she had simply declined to accept his refusal.

"Man was not made to live alone," she had a.s.sured him. "We know that by the Garden of Eden arrangements, it's not the least use going against old-established custom, my dear man. So you'll come, won't you?" And somehow with Lady Susan's kind, merry dark eyes twinkling up at him he had not been able to find the ungraciousness to refuse.

But when the occasion came he had contributed very little to the gaiety of nations. He left early, on the ground that he had an appointment to keep in Ferribridge, and Ann felt as though he had joined the party more in the capacity of a looker-on than anything else. She said as much to him a day or two later when he chanced to meet her in the village, executing household shopping errands, and they had walked home together.

"You are quite right," he answered. "That's what I am--a looker-on at life.

I've no wish to be anything else."

He no longer avoided her now, as he had been wont to do, and an odd sort of friendship had sprung up between them. But it was often punctuated by some such speech as the foregoing, and Ann felt that although he had sheathed the sword he was still armoured with a coat of mail. It was difficult to bring these almost brutal speeches, ground out of some long-harboured bitterness, into relation with the sweetness of that sudden, rare smile of his. The man was an enigma. He asked for friendship and then, when it was tentatively proffered, withdrew himself abruptly as though he feared it.

Brett Forrester proceeded along diametrically opposite lines. No nuances or subtle shades of feeling complicated life for him. He knew exactly what he wanted and went straight for it, all out, and Ann was conscious that she was fighting a losing battle in her effort to keep him at a distance. He had never, so far, made deliberate love to her, but there was a certain imperious possessiveness in his manner, a definite innuendo in his gay, audacious speeches which she found it very hard to combat. He seemed entirely oblivious of any lack of response on her part, and there was a light-hearted, irresponsible charm and camaraderie about him that was difficult to resist.

"What's the matter with you this morning?" he demanded one day when Ann had successfully infused a little formality into her manner.

"Nothing. Why should there be?" she returned.

"No reason at all. Only you seemed to be emulating the stiffness of a ramrod, and I thought you must be getting frightened of me--rigid with fear, you know"--impudently.

What could any one do but laugh? It was useless to try and treat him with aloof dignity if he promptly interpreted it as a sign of fear.

"I don't see anything in you to inspire terror," Ann submitted.

"You don't? Good. Then come along down to the Cove, and I'll teach you a new stroke."

And then, as though to contradict every opinion she or any one else might have formed of him, he was as painstaking and encouraging over the swimming lesson which ensued as though his whole reputation depended on her proficiency.

A day or two later, when Ann, accompanied by Tony and Robin, descended to Berrier Cove for her morning dip, it was to find the beach, at that time usually dotted about with bathers in vari-coloured bathing suits and _peignoirs_, deserted by all save the hardiest and most determined.

The weather had changed with all the abruptness with which the English climate seems able to accomplish such transitions. A strong gale of wind was blowing, and the placid blue sea which, even at high tide, had been lapping the sh.o.r.e very tranquilly throughout the last fortnight, was converted into a rolling, grey-green stretch of water, breaking at its rim into towering waves.

"It looks a bit too rough for you, Ann," observed Robin, surveying the scene doubtfully, "I don't think even your new-found prowess at swimming will be of much use to you to-day."

"It would be all right once you're through the breakers," suggested Tony.

"There's a chap swimming out there, I see."

He pointed to where a wet, dark head bobbed up and down like a cork beyond reach of the waves that reared themselves up to an immense height before they crashed down in a flurry of whirling foam on the beaten sh.o.r.e.

"Tough work, though," replied Robin. "There's the deuce of a current running over there, and Ann's not an experienced enough swimmer to tackle a drag like that."

Ann's face had fallen. The idea of foregoing her daily plunge did not commend itself to her in the least.

"I don't see why I can't have a dip--just get wet, you know," she remonstrated wistfully.

"You mustn't think of such a thing!" came in quick, imperative tones.

Startled, she turned round to find Forrester standing at her elbow, with Cara Hilyard beside him. Amid the hurly-burly of noise created by the breakers she had not noticed the sound of their approach.

"Do you hear?" he repeated. "You mustn't think of bathing to-day."

Ann's head went up. The imperious speech, uttered as though it were a foregone conclusion that she would meekly obey its mandate, roused her to instant opposition.

"But I _am_ thinking of it," she replied, masking her irritation beneath an outward a.s.sumption of calm.

"I really don't think you should," said Cara persuasively.

"You're not bathing to-day, are you, Mrs. Hilyard?" put in Robin quickly, a look of swift anxiety on his face.

She shook her head, smiling.

"No. I'm afraid I'm too big a coward."

"I should rather put it that you've got too much sense," returned Robin.

"It really isn't safe for any but a very strong swimmer to-day."

"Safe!" exclaimed Brett, angrily, s.n.a.t.c.hing at the last word and flinging it, as it were, in Ann's face. "Of course it isn't safe!"

"Then what's the meaning of that?" asked Ann pertinently, pointing to the bathing suit he carried on his arm.

"Oh, I'm going in. It would take more than this bit of sea to drown me"--carelessly.

He was making no idle boast. As Ann well know, he was almost as much at home in the water as he was on land. And presently, when it had been decided that only the three men should risk the roughness of the breakers, she stood watching him with quiet, unstinted admiration as, timing his plunge to a nicety, he met a large billow as it rose, dived sheer through its green depths, and emerged into the comparatively smooth water on the further side before its white, curving crest could thunder down on to the sh.o.r.e.

Robin and Tony made but a brief stay in the water--the former curtailing the proceedings because he very much preferred the idea of keeping Mrs.

Hilyard company where she sat in a fold of the rocks. Meanwhile Ann's gaze was riveted enviously on Forrester's sleek red head as it appeared and disappeared with the rise and fall of the swelling sea. He looked as if he were thoroughly enjoying the buffeting he was getting.

"I should like to go in--just for a few minutes," she said discontentedly.

There are few things that draw the genuine sea-lover more strongly than the longing to plunge into the tantalising, gleaming water and feel the rush and p.r.i.c.k of it and its buoyancy beneath one's limbs.