The Vision of Desire Part 56

"Who is the man you borrowed from?" she asked.

Tony preserved an embarra.s.sed silence.

"Who is it?" she repeated. "I must know, Tony. We can't plan anything to help if you're not absolutely frank."

"Well, if you must know--it's Brett Forrester," he said wretchedly. "It's beastly, I know, his being a friend of yours."

Brett Forrester! Ann remained very silent, with bent head, absorbing the full significance of this confession. It seemed suddenly to have thrown an immense burden of responsibility upon her. Brett! As Tony said, he was a friend of hers. And desired to be much more than a friend, if Tony but knew! Were it not for this, it would have been simple enough for her to go and use her influence with Brett--ask him out of sheer friendliness to her to give Tony a chance--to grant him time in which to pay. It would have to be a very long time, she reflected. But perhaps, when she was Eliot's wife... Eliot was generous ... he would not think twice about paying twelve hundred pounds to give happiness to the woman he loved--to purchase peace of mind for her. And she would economise in her own personal expenses and so try to balance matters. Eliot had told her that one of his earliest presents to her was to be a new and very perfectly equipped car for her own special use. She would forego the car--ask him to pay Tony's debts instead.

Her thoughts raced along.

But all this presupposed that Brett would be willing to wait a little for his money. If there had been only friendship between herself and Brett, Ann felt she could so easily have begged a chance for Tony. But to approach the man who had desired to marry her so much that he had been willing to go to almost any length to force her into marriage with him, this man whom she had defied and scorned at their last meeting--to ask a boon, a favour from him, seemed of all things the most impossible. To do so would be to strangle her pride, to walk deliberately through the valley of humiliation.

Oh, she couldn't do it! She couldn't do it!

Virginia's sad, entreating voice seemed to plead in her ear: "_Ann, will you do what you can for him--for him and for me?_" It was almost as though she were there in the room, an invisible presence, beseeching, supplicating mercy for her son--claiming the fulfilment of the promise Ann had made so many years ago. "'If it's in any way possible,' Ann," the voice seemed to urge. "_'In any way'_ you said. And it _is_ possible. You could save Tony if you would."

After what appeared to Tony an interminable time, Ann lifted her bent head.

Her face was white to the lips, but her eyes were strangely bright--like golden stars, he thought. They looked almost unearthly.

"Don't worry, Tony," she said. Familiar little comforting phrase! "Don't worry, old boy. Leave it all to me. I'm sure I can put things straight.

I'll talk to Brett--I'm certain he'll do what I ask and give you time to pay."

"Time?" Tony laughed harshly. "If I had all the time until eternity I couldn't produce twelve hundred pounds!"

"But I could," a.s.serted Ann confidently. "Won't you trust me, Tony? I'm sure--_sure_ that I can get you out of this sc.r.a.pe."

He looked at her in blank amazement. But something in her face convinced him that she was speaking the truth--that he could rely on her.

"If you do," he said, and his voice rang true as steel, "I give you my word, Ann, that I'll never get into another. I'll chuck gambling from this day forth."

"Will you, Tony? Will you really?" she cried eagerly.

He took her hands in his.

"I promise," he said simply.

The two strained young faces gleamed palely in the chill dawnlight--on each of them the impress of a stern resolution. Suddenly, moved by an irresistible impulse of compa.s.sion, Ann lifted her arms and laying her hands on either side Tony's face, drew it down level with her own. Then she bent forward and kissed his forehead--tenderly, as his mother might have kissed him.

"Good night, Tony boy," she said. And a minute later her slender figure flitted, ghost-like, up the stairs to her own room.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

A BARGAIN

The day after Ann's return to the Cottage found her occupied in the composition of a letter to Brett Forrester, the number of torn, half-written sheets of paper which surrounded her testifying to the difficulty she was experiencing in the matter. The whole idea of appealing to Brett, of asking any service from him, was intensely repugnant to her and rendered the performance of her task doubly difficult, but at last, after several abortive attempts, it was accomplished. When completed, the letter read as simply and shortly as possible, merely saying that she was anxious to see him about a rather important matter and asking where it would be possible for them to meet. She had no idea where he was at the moment, but she had gathered from Tony that he had been in London as recently as a week ago, so she addressed her letter to his flat in town, posted it, and tried to possess her soul in patience until she should receive an answer. It might have eased matters somewhat if she could have shared her burden with Robin, but, as luck would have it, he had been obliged to leave home on the day following that of her own return. Eliot had unexpectedly commissioned him to inspect on his behalf a famous herd of cattle in which he happened to be interested, a matter which would take Robin up to Scotland and entail his absence from home for several days, and in the hurry of packing and departure there had been no chance of a cosy, confidential chat between brother and sister.

Two or three days pa.s.sed, bringing no answer to her letter, and Ann began to be nervously agitated in mind as to whether it had reached its destination safely or not. She sought for rea.s.surance by telling herself that, if Brett happened to be out of town, the letter was probably following him round and might not yet have caught up with him, but the knowledge that time was an important factor in the solving of Tony's difficulties, and the fear lest, in the interval, anything should occur to drive the boy once more to despair, kept her nerves on the stretch.

It was late in the afternoon of the fourth day that the response came to her letter--and in a form in which she least expected it. She had been out in the garden, gathering snowdrops, and was returning to the house, her hands filled with the white blossom of spring, when she lifted her eyes to find Brett Forrester standing directly in her path. Her heart gave a great terrified leap. She had pictured him as far enough away, and his appearance was utterly unexpected. Moreover, the very sight of him brought back a swift rush of painful memories, and involuntarily she recoiled a little. He regarded her quizzically.

"You don't seem exactly pleased to see me," he observed.

"I'm--I'm surprised, that's all," she said hastily. "I didn't--I wasn't expecting you." Transferring her harvest of snowdrops to one hand, she extended the other towards him.

"Not expecting me?" he returned, when they had shaken hands. "After the letter you wrote me?"

"I thought you would write first, suggesting where we could meet."

"I should have thought you would have known me better by this time," he commented dryly, as he turned and walked beside her up the path to the house. "I never waste time in preliminaries. You said you wanted to see me--so here I am."

Ann made no response--for the simple reason that she couldn't think of one to make. Brett always appeared t cut the ground from under one's feet, so to speak--certainly as regards the small change of social intercourse. Even behind his lightest remarks one seemed able to hear the threatening rumble of the volcano.

"What was it you wanted to see me about?" he continued.

"I'll tell you. Come in, will you?"

By this time they had reached the house and Ann led the way into the living-room. She was conscious of an acute feeling of trepidation and, by way of postponing the evil moment, paused to put her snowdrops in water in a bowl which she had left filled in readiness on the table.

"Are you staying at White Windows?" she asked, as she arranged the flowers with quick, nervous touches.

"I am not," replied Brett. "I gathered, during the last conversation I held with my revered aunt, that my welcome had worn a trifle thin--as you are doubtless aware," he concluded mockingly.

"Then--then where--how did you come here?"--in some astonishment.

"I came on the _Sphinx_. I am at present living on board, and at the moment she is anch.o.r.ed in Silverquay bay. Any other questions?"

Ann flushed hotly.

"I beg your pardon," she said with downcast eyes. "I didn't mean to be inquisitive, only naturally I--I rather wondered where you had sprung from.

You _did_ arrive somewhat suddenly, you know."

"I did," he acquiesced. "I was on my way to the south, of France and your letter was forwarded on to me at Southampton, where I'd put in en route.

So we steamed for Silverquay at once. Now, perhaps, you'll gratify my curiosity as to what is the important matter you want to see me about. I can only think of one matter of any real importance," he added daringly, his blue eyes raking her face with the audacious, challenging glance which was so characteristic of the man.

Reluctantly Ann desisted from fidgeting with the bowl of snowdrops, and Brett nodded approval.

"Yes, I'm sure you've done your level best for them" he observed ironically.

She sat down, clasping her hands tightly together in her lap, while Brett remained standing on the hearthrug, looking down at her with quizzical amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I--I wanted to ask you--" she began, then halted abruptly and made a fresh start. "I wrote to you because--because--" Once again she came to a dead stop.

"Well?" he queried. "I'm afraid I haven't grasped it yet."

Ann pulled herself together and made another effort.