"Perhaps," he said, "I will write to Mr. Pym and ask his advice."
Then he went back to the hours of desperate mental stress, that were steadily increasing the grey about his temples. To Ailsa he might have seemed cold and self-contained as ever, but if she could have known it, all his being was torn with conflict. With the hourly growing ache and longing to throw everything to the winds and to try to carry Meryl off while there was yet time there was the fear lest a wrong step on his part should shatter for her some newly found content.
XXVIII
DIANA'S PERPLEXITIES INCREASE
The two days after Diana came home early from her dinner-party were chiefly noticeable for the fact that for the first time since the engagement van Hert remained away from Hill Court. No one knew why, and the excuse he sent was of the vaguest. Diana asked her own heart and was troubled. When he came on the third day, he walked into the drawing-room to look for Meryl, and found Diana reading in the window alone. They discovered each other suddenly, and it was almost as if he gave a guilty start; and he looked unusually pale, with haggard eyes, as if he had slept badly of late. Diana saw it all, but gave no sign.
"You are something of a stranger, Meinheer van Hert," she said lightly. "My sword had almost time to rust."
"It would never do that. The best of swords is none the worse for an occasional rest; unless"—with a somewhat tired gleam of humour—"you have been keeping it bright at the expense of poor Aunt Emily."
"No, it has had a real rest. I am saving it again for the best swordsman worthy of it."
His eyes came suddenly to her face, and she realised at once that until that moment he had scarcely looked at her; and in that second's flash she saw something in them that hurt: a swift, deep trouble that he was struggling to hide. He looked away again quickly, noting the lovely shades of the room, the masses of violets, the general airiness and elegance.