In the meantime the household at Hill Court was a restless, uneasy, depressed one. No person in it, except Meryl, seemed undisturbed by the unsatisfactory atmosphere. She by taking thought, had, contrary to the old dictum, added to her stature; but it was the stature of her mind. The spirit that takes a woman through the troubled waters at hand, with all her consciousness set upon the great goal ahead, upheld her now; and in the presence of onlookers gave her a grave serenity, not in any way akin to joy, but baffling to those who would fain have seen her show a stronger feeling either of gladness or regret.
It baffled even van Hert himself. To him she seemed so strangely the same, yet different, from the woman he had loved before the Rhodesian tour. In all his work, his plans, his schemes, she was as earnest and interested as he could possibly wish; but that fairness his dark strength had coveted seemed to elude him at every turn. When he kissed her, he felt vaguely that she suffered his caress; on one or two occasions it almost seemed as if she went further and shuddered, and yet she never actually repulsed him. And then the dainty, light humour that had been hers as well as Diana's!... What had become of it?... It seemed now as if Diana had absorbed it all, for Meryl was nearly always quiet, while the younger girl was almost boisterous. And yet even in Diana there was a note that puzzled him. She was so jumpy and uncertain. Childishly gay one moment, and cuttingly brilliant the next. He was glad she was there. After the first week of the engagement he found himself quite willing to further Meryl's obvious wish for her company upon every occasion. So if she rose to leave them alone they deterred her with vague requests and excuses; and when they went in public together, Diana was always with them. And when she was snappy, they laughed at her and did not mind. Diana snappy was better than no Diana at all.
Aunt Emily thought otherwise, and was deeply grateful to them in her heart whenever they took her refractory niece safely out of her way. Her escapades were apt to be so wild nowadays, and her language so horrifying; and whenever the poor lady remonstrated, she was always told that it was the result of the Rhodesian trip.
"It will take me quite a year to get over it," Diana informed her. "You can't eat rats, and sleep with a frog in your bed, and go unwashed for weeks on end, without suffering from it in some way. God bless my soul!... is it likely?..."
At the end of the second week, anyone watching with keen insight might have seen a still more significant change creeping over the three most noticeable inmates of the house; for Mr. Pym was only silent and grave and retiring, going early to his study and feigning to be much occupied. And Aunt Emily had acquired a habit of going to sleep after dinner during her solitariness, which Diana wickedly called a dispensation from Heaven to bless the household of Henry Pym.
So the lovers and Diana were left to themselves, and usually sat upon the deep verandah. And it became apparent presently that all the talking was done by Diana and van Hert; Meryl was merely a silent listener. Perhaps she was not even a listener; one could not tell. She sat so still, with wistful eyes looking out beyond the stars. But Diana, on the other hand, exceeded herself; and in doing so she made van Hert exceed himself also. She was brilliant, mischievous, reckless, serious, satirical, nonsensical, all in a breath. She drove him hither and thither; led him on one moment, and withered him with her satire the next. It was obvious the man very soon left off treating her with any careless levity; if he did he was outwitted in no time; torn to shreds, and cast to the four winds on merry logic that had ever the sting of satire behind its laughing lightness. Very quickly he was on his guard, with thrust and parry; keen, watchful, alert—the politician to whom South Africa listened. And finally there came a day when, after unfolding a plan to Meryl, he added, "That is my idea, but I thought I would consult your cousin first." It seemed to strike him that it was a little odd, and he added, "She is extraordinarily observant. She may see some weak point we have overlooked."
"Yes, consult Diana," Meryl had replied at once; "she knows a lot about statistics of that kind. She has often had arguments with father over them."
So in the evening van Hert came in eager haste to have his talk with Diana. And Diana had taken herself off to a dinner-party and was not forthcoming. So the lovers sat on the verandah alone, and after a little they began to feel at a loss for anything to say, and wished devoutly that Diana would return.
As she was likely to be late, van Hert got up and spoke of departing. He said he had a measure to study carefully, ready for the reopening of Parliament at Cape Town. And while he was still explaining, Diana returned. She had made an excuse and left the party early.
"It was so dull," she said. "I have no patience with people who let me bite them, and do not try to bite back. I bit them all, more or less, in the end, and left them bathing each other's sores, so to speak, and exclaiming with bated breath at my cleverness. Fools and blockheads! just because I've got a banking account that would buy half of them up, and never miss it. As if I didn't know, when I'm in that mood, I'm a cattish little spitfire!..."