"But you have relieved me of that fear," she hurried on. "I saw at once, last night, that you had told her——"
"Only that you were the woman I had loved before plighting myself to her. She knows nothing of the circumstances of our acquaintance. That is my secret, mine only, to be treasured till I die."
"She knows enough, however, to make clear the way between us," Helen made further haste to say. "If you are kind now, you will end this conversation that ought never to have begun. I shall be leaving Cannes shortly. My father is coming for me in his yacht. Before I see you again you will have in your keeping the happiness, the trust, of one—no, two, of the kindest, most confiding creatures God ever made. Never think that it is I who could try and weaken you at the outset of such a task. If necessary, rather let Posey think that I have grown cold to her than run the risk of such a re-awakening of old feeling as we two have innocently suffered from to-day."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. Violet shadows had formed under her eyes, the lines around her mouth had deepened painfully. But when she looked at him full in the eyes, he knew there would be no more weakening in his direction. Presently she arose, and they walked together to the foot of the hill, where Helen hailed a passing carriage and asked him to put her in it. A moment more, and Glynn was indeed alone.
As he walked rapidly homeward, he forced his mind away from the overpowering interest of this last chance interview to dwell upon minor things, among which he was inclined to classify even the settling of the affair with Posey's tormentor, Mrs. Darien. He had, according to his engagement with that lady, gone over to Nice by an early train the day following their interview in the garden. He had found her in the melancholy splendors of a saloon bedroom in a cheap hotel, with a screen half encircling an untidy couch, a dressing-table littered with strange scents and unguents, shabby finery hanging upon hooks, and a chaise longue of rusty plush drawn up before a writing-table containing, in addition to its blotter and inkstand, a case of liqueurs and glasses.
Mrs. Darien, for which he yielded her credit, made no attempt to apologize for her poor surroundings. She received her visitor with astonishing ease and vivacity; talked rapidly and cleverly of contemporaneous topics, and when he came, without overmuch delay, to the point of the business that brought him, treated Mr. Glynn in a semi-coquettish, rallying spirit, as though he were proposing to her a very good joke. She closed upon his offer like a vice, however, and affixed her name to the paper forfeiting the liberal allowance he had decided to make her should she be again heard of as molesting Miss Winstanley with an eager, trembling hand. Glynn had decided, as he walked away from her into purer air, that drink or morphia, or both, were driving the ex-Lady Clandonald to an end at a fearful rate of speed. He had paid high for this visit to Nice, but it counted as nothing provided she left Mr. Winstanley's little ewe lamb in peace.
The two girls met at luncheon at Lady Campstown's, who had spent the morning in letting Posey experiment upon her nerves in the Winstanley's automobile. Posey felt proud indeed of this success, when she brought home the dowager (at the utmost limit of speed disallowed by law), thrilled and enchanted, after beginning her expedition with closed eyes and a prayer upon her lips. Mr. Winstanley, who had long since abandoned himself to sharing risks with his girl, sat beside his guest, exhibiting to the public the exterior of a diver for pearls combined with a hippopotamus.
Flushed by conquest, Posey had recovered her buoyant spirits, and their meal was enlivened by her old daring sallies. She even ventured, in the welcome absence of Miss Bleecker, upon introducing an imitation of that lady, in an entanglement of eye-glasses, trying to read the dinner menu at sea. Lady Campstown, who thought less of Miss Bleecker than she had before seeing her recent barefaced designs upon Mr. Winstanley, enjoyed this very much; but Posey confessed it had not been a success at home, owing to Mr. Winstanley not relishing satire directed toward acquaintances, and considering Miss Bleecker, on the whole, "a very polite and agreeable lady."
When Posey separated from Helen after lunch she felt that a little frost had fallen upon their friendship. She instinctively realized that things could not be between them what they were before Glynn had owned to her he had first loved Helen. Something told her that it needed time to smooth over a situation like their own. After John left on the morrow she would, perhaps, see dear Helen with a lighter heart.
CHAPTER IX