Past the Half Way House, along Stockiemuir with its blasted heather under its snow, up the hill at the foot of Finnick Glen the great car ran; and yet none of us spoke a word. Once, after that, Nordenholt gave me a direction; and we turned off toward Loch Lomond.
When we reached the lochside, beyond Balloch, he made me stop the car.
“I’m going to get out here and walk up towards Luss,” he said. “You take the car on to the head of the loch and pick me up on the way back. Don’t hurry. I want some exercise.”
The door slammed; and we moved off. I looked back and saw him standing by the water-side; and it struck me that his attitude was that of an old man. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his motor-coat; and his position seemed to exaggerate the stoop of his shoulders. He looked so very, very tired. I realised, all at once, that he was ageing long before his time, worn out by his colossal task. An emotion which was as much dismay as pity swept over me in an instant. Then, as I watched, he pulled himself up and stood erect again, gazing over the water to the desolate islets. The car swung round a corner; and when I looked back once more, he was out of sight.
But that picture haunted me as I drove up the loch. I guessed at last what this struggle was costing him. Somehow I had never realised it before. I had come to regard Nordenholt as almost akin to the natural forces, the embodiment of some great store of energy which worked upon human destiny calmly and ever certainly. I had looked up to his strength and leaned upon it unconsciously, knowing only that it was there. And now, in that brief vision, I had seen that my support was itself weakening, even though for an instant. There had been a recovery, the old dominating attitude reappeared as he pulled himself together again. But before this I had never seen effort in that attitude; and I saw it now. Even in my exalted condition, the sight of that weary figure struck down into my memory.
Elsa had not looked back. She sat beside me, her clean-cut profile emerging from her dark furs, gazing straight before her at the road ahead. We ran through Luss without a word to each other. My heart was throbbing with excitement; and yet I hesitated to break the silence. Some miles further up the road, before we reached Tarbet, she asked me to stop the car and suggested that we should go down to the water’s edge.
It was there that I at last found speech and, having found it, poured out what I had to say in a torrent of words none of which I can remember now. I had rehearsed that scene many a time in my mind, and yet it all came unexpectedly. I had never anticipated this opportunity. I had thought that some time, when we talked of the future we were planning, I would tell her what I needed to make it complete. And I had thought of how she would take my pleading: I had forecast how she would look and what she would reply. But in none of my visions had I foreseen the reality.
She listened to me coldly, almost as if her mind were occupied with other things. I grew more passionate, I think, striving to make her understand my emotion; and yet she seemed almost indifferent to what I said. At last I stopped, chilled by this aloofness which I did not understand. In my wildest imaginings I had never thought of this dénouement of the situation. I think I must have grown cold myself: for though I can recall nothing of my previous words, the rest of the scene is graven on my mind. For some moments after I had ceased, she remained silent; then at length she spoke, with an accent in her voice which I had never heard before. I remember that she had taken off one glove and stood twisting it in her hands while she talked.
“I got you to stop the car here because I have something to ask you, something of tremendous importance to me. Forgive me if I put it first and don’t answer you immediately. I’m ... I’m very grateful for all you have said. But this thing comes before everything; and you must let me ask you about it before we come to ... to our own affairs.”
A pang of apprehension shot through me. What could she be driving at which was of greater importance than our future?