“I’m glad we can see the old giant on Carlingford Mountain,” Paddy said. “I’ve always had a kind of fondness for him. He lies there so calmly through all weathers, and when it’s bright and sunny and not too hot I can always imagine him heaving a sigh of content that it’s not raining, or snowing, or anything unpleasant. Good-by, old man,” waving her hand to him. “I’ll be back again soon, and mind you don’t change in any way. I want you to look exactly the same when I come again.
“There are the lights at Warrenpoint,” she ran on. “Isn’t it odd to think that the people there are going about just as usual; and next summer the Pierrots will come again, and we shall all be so far away? The mountains look specially beautiful to-night, don’t they? My dear Mourne Mountains, it’s just as if they put on their very best dresses, to look their nicest for our sake. I’m quite sure they’re sorry, Jack. They’re just awfully sorry, but they can’t say it. You see they’ve watched us grow up, and we must have amused them a good deal at times. They know all about that first rabbit we shot, when we stole daddy’s gun. How proud we were, weren’t we? And they were so angry at home, instead of delighted as we thought they ought to be, when we carried in the trophies of our big game expedition. You were Selous, you know, and I was Captain Bailey. We had been reading about them just before. I expect they know about every time we have got capsized in the loch, and each time we were lost and nearly got in bogs, and just all about everything. Good-by again!” and she waved her handkerchief slowly. A bitter sea wind struck them.
“You’ll catch cold,” said Jack. “Come in.”
“All right,” and she turned away. At the entrance to the salon she looked back once more. “Good-by,” she said softly to the night. “Good-by, daddy’s grave—try and keep nice. Daddy himself will be in London with me.”
CHAPTER XXIII
Gwendoline Carew.
Lawrence Blake found Calcutta even more to his liking than he expected. When he left England what conscience he possessed pricked him rather severely, but when he reached India he was able to plunge into a round of gaieties that left him little enough time to think. Still, whenever he remembered Eileen he felt the same twinge. He recognised that she was not quite like other girls. She had not in any way laid herself open to the blow he had dealt her, and she had certainly not led him on. All through she had been just her own natural self, and he could not but know this only placed his conduct in a still less pleasant light. It would have been nothing to be proud of with any girl, but it does sometimes happen that a man is not wholly to blame when he has gone further than he meant.
At the same time Lawrence was a little surprised. He had several times paid quite as much and even more attention to members of the fair sex without meaning it, and gone quietly away, but he never before remembered experiencing the unpleasant sensation that he had acted like a cad. Did he then care more than he supposed? he asked once or twice. No, this was not the solution, for if anything, he felt relief as the distance between them lengthened. It was then, perhaps, the fearless measure of scorn that Paddy had dealt out to him, forcing him to see himself as he looked in the eyes of anyone who loved truth and sincerity. This, and the growing consciousness of how infinitely above him in all that matters most, was the girl whose heart he had carelessly trifled with.
The passengers on that particular P. and O. steamboat bound for India found Lawrence taciturn and morose to a degree, and in the end left him severely alone. When he arrived in Calcutta he revived, for there was so much to distract his attention. Gwendoline was charming. Earl Selloyd’s attentions were more pronounced than ever, and playing at rivals amused him. And there was no risk of any serious harm this time either, for Gwen was a wholly different type of girl from Eileen, and perfectly well able to take care of herself. She liked queening it over him, and he was useful to her, and for the rest she was more likely to trifle with him, than give him a chance to trifle with her.
They saw a great deal of each other because Lawrence was a great friend of both her father’s and mother’s, and their doors were always open to him. So, while living at his club in Calcutta, he spent a part of each day with the Carews, either lounging in the morning-room in the morning, or dining with them in the evening, or accompanying them to some of the endless social festivities they attended.