Doctor and lawyer made a desperate bid for the French window, shocked to the depths of their ceremonious souls, but in spite of their haste they could not escape Deb’s voice, the voice of a prisoner at the bar.
“It is true!” she heard herself saying, facing the hard eyes of Slinker’s mother; and then Christian slid a hand through her arm, and drew her out.
“Old Brathay’s in the kitchen with the puppy, worrying the cook out of her wits,” he informed her, as they crossed the hall. “Let’s get down to Kilne as quick as we can. I’ve always heard that your father was no end of a hand at hounds.”
Footmen hurried them into wraps. An obsequious butler all but lifted them into the carriage. The lamps flashed a moment on the wide hall as the smooth wheels bore them away. Deb cast one glance at the dark pile of the house as they passed; then sat back, silent. Crump blinds had dropped on more than a dead master.
“It’s an unforgiving sort of night!” Christian said dreamily from his corner, as they rolled down the last of the avenue, the great trees clashing overhead. “On nights like this I believe Westmorland breaks her heart for some old sin of long ago. She beats at the heavens, and they are brass. God does not hear. Brathay is like an old hen with hounds, isn’t he?”
She sat up, trying to see his face in the pale light over the river.
“You must let me tell you,” she said quickly and tensely. “I spoke the truth. I did not love your brother. But at least I loved no one else. And he was good to me.”
Christian nodded comprehendingly.
“Slinker had his moments, I suppose,” he said. “The rest of the time he was—Slinker. I’m glad he was good to you.”
They plunged into the shadow of the bridge, where other maddened giants were at strife. The full tide had swung the river far up its banks, and they could hear the weir above the shout of the wind. Deb leaned back, a growing sense of quiet upon her. Christian’s was a presence that asked nothing, took nothing, least of all sought for your miserable hidden secrets. He accepted you as you were, and, in some utterly unreasoned way, made you feel that he was glad of you. She rested a little in his shadow.