“But I don’t think so, I don’t want to think so,” cried poor Patricia; “it’s just because you don’t think it that you made me feel I can stop it. Oh, Christopher, go on believing I can help it, please.”
“But I do. Of course I do. It’s a beastly shame anyone ever suggested anything else to you. Come along home, Patricia, it will be tea-time.”
This was the establishing of a covenant between the two. Whether it was from the suggestion or the dominant will of the boy himself, or both causes combined, Patricia began to gather strength against her terrible inheritance and, at all events in Christopher’s presence, actually did gain some show of control over her fits of passion. 122
The first of these times, about six months after the covenant on the barrow, Nevil was present. Renata and one of the children had been there also, but Renata had seen the queer pallor creep up in her sister’s face before even Christopher had guessed and had straightway hurried off with Master Max, a proceeding which usually precipitated events.
Then Christopher flung down his work and caught her clenched hand in his.
“Stop it, Patricia,” he said imperiously.
Nevil held his breath. It was a tradition in the Connell family that interference invariably led to a catastrophe. In his indolent way he had taken this belief on trust, the “laissez faire” policy being well in accordance with his easy nature.
However, tradition was clearly wrong, for after one ineffectual struggle, Patricia stood still and presently said something to Christopher that Nevil did not catch, but he saw the boy free her and Patricia remained silently looking out of the window. Christopher turned to pick up his book, and for the first time remembered Nevil was present and grew rather red. Nevil had watched them both with a speculative eye, for the moment an historian of the future rather than of the past. He said nothing, however, but having discoursed a while on the possibility of skating next day, sauntered away.
He came to anchor eventually in Aymer’s room, and sat smoking by the fire, his long legs crossed and the contemplative mood in the ascendency. His brother knew from experience that Nevil had something to say, and would say it in his own inimitable way if left alone.
“Christopher’s a remarkable youth,” he said presently.