And what an emancipation it was! It was like suddenly becoming a child again—a child with power to enjoy the very things that children so often miss.
Everything in this little parlour pleased her. The blue vases on the mantelpiece containing dusty “everlasting flowers,” the plush-framed portraits of the landlady’s deceased parents, enlarged to a magnitude of shadowy dignity by some old-fashioned photographic process, the quaint row of minute china elephants that stood on a little bracket in the corner, the glaring antimacassar thrown across the back of the arm-chair, the sea-scents and sea-murmurs floating in through the window, the melodious crying of a fish-pedler in the street; all these things thrilled her with a sense of freedom and escape, which over-brimmed her heart with happiness.
What matter, after all, she thought, that her little compatriot with the wonderful eyes had been the means of arousing her friend from his inertia! Her long acquaintance with Mr. Quincunx had mellowed her affection for him into a tenderness that was almost maternal. She could even find it in her to be glad that she was to be saved from the burden of struggling alone with his fits of melancholia. With Dolores to keep him amused, and herself to look after his material wants, it seemed probable that, whatever happened, the dear man would be happier than he had ever dreamed of being!
The uncertainty of their future weighed upon her very little. She had the true Pariah tendency to lie back with arms outstretched upon the great tide, and let it carry her whither it pleased. She had done this so long, while the tide was dark and evil, that to do it where the waters gleamed and shone was a voluptuous delight.
While her protégées were thus enjoying themselves Vennie sought out and entered, with a resolute bearing, the ancient Gloucester Hotel. The place had recently been refitted according to modern notions of comfort, but in its general lines, and in a certain air it had of liberal welcoming, it preserved the Georgian touch.
She was already within the hall-way when, led by an indefinable impulse to look back, she caught sight of Dangelis himself walking rapidly along the Esplanade towards the very quarter from which she had just come. Without a moment’s hesitation she ran down the steps, crossed the road and followed him.
The American seemed to be inspired by some mania for fast walking that afternoon. Vennie was quite breathless before she succeeded in approaching him, and she did not manage to do this until they were both very nearly opposite Brunswick Terrace.
Just here she was unwilling to make herself known, as her friends might at any moment emerge from their lodging. She preferred to follow the long strides of the artist still further, till, in fact he had led her, hot and exhausted in her new cloak, quite beyond the limits of the houses.
Where the town ceases, on this eastern side, a long white dusty road leads across a mile or two of level ground before the noble curve of cliffs ending in St. Alban’s Head has its beginning. This road is bounded on one hand by a high bank of shingle and on the other by a wide expanse of salt-marshes known in that district under the name of Lodmoor. It was not until the American had emerged upon this solitary road that his pursuer saw fit to bring him to a halt.
“Mr. Dangelis!” she called out, “Mr. Dangelis!”