“Edith, I don’t want to disappoint you, but I think you had better not come till the summer is over and we are clear of the cholera. Then you can join me in Cairo, or more probably I shall be able to fetch you.”
“It must be as you wish, dear,” she answered, with a sigh, “for I can’t set up my opinion against yours. I would offer to come out with you, at any rate as far as Egypt, only I am afraid it would be a quite useless expense, as I am such a miserable traveller that even the train makes me sick, and as for the sea—! Then there would be the returning all alone, and no arrangements made about your mother into the bargain. However, don’t you think I might try it?”
“Yes—no, I suppose not, it seems absurd. Oh, curse the Secretary of State and Lord Southwick, and the whole War Office down to the cellars, with all the clans of the Shillooks thrown in. I beg your pardon, I shouldn’t speak like that before you, but really it is enough to drive a man mad,” and yielding for once to an access of his honest passion, Rupert swept her up into his strong arms and kissed her again and again.
Edith did not resist, she even smiled and returned about one per cent. of his endearments. Still this tempestuous end to that fateful conversation did nothing to make her more anxious to reverse the agreement at which they had arrived, rather the contrary indeed. Yet, and the conviction smote her with a sense of shame as it came suddenly home to her, the worst of it was, she knew that if Dick had stood in Rupert’s place, and Dick had been unexpectedly ordered to Egypt, not the sea, nor the heat, nor even the cholera which she feared and loathed, would have prevented her from accompanying him.
At dinner the whole thing came out, except the details of Rupert’s mission, which, of course, were secret, and it cannot be said that the news added to the gaiety of the meal. Although his appetite did not seem to be affected, Dick was most sympathetic, especially to Edith. Lord Devene said little, but looked vexed and thought the more; Edith sat distraite and silent; Rupert was gloomy, while Mrs. Ullershaw, who felt this upset keenly for her own sake as well as her son’s, seemed to be nigh to tears. Only Tabitha was emphatic and vigorous, for no one else seemed to have the heart to discuss the matter. Like Rupert she objurgated the War Office, and especially the man, whoever he might be, who had conceived the idea of sending him at such a time. “A schemeful wretch”—“One without shame,” she called him, translating, as was her custom, from the German in which she thought. Nor was the definition inaccurate, while the vigour with which she launched it caused Dick to hope sincerely that Lord Southwick would remember his promise to conceal his private but important share in the transaction.
“Ach! my dear Edith,” she went on, “it is awkward for you also, for however will you get ready to start for the East by to-morrow night?”
This was a bomb-shell, and its explosion nearly shook Edith out of her wonted composure.
“I am not going,” she said, in a hesitating voice, “Dick does—”
“Dick! What has Dick to do with it?” exclaimed her ladyship, pouncing on her like a heavy cat on a mouse.
“Nothing, I assure you,” broke in Dick himself, in alarm. “She meant Rupert.”