“I know!—I know! And I will—after dinner. Give me till eight o’clock, to enjoy you, and to calm my nerves. It’s good news, but—it upsets our plans. I needed you here to talk over and to arrange. Can’t you leave business, and just be ‘homey’ with me for an hour or two, after all this time?”
She laughed. How good it was to hear that soft, low laugh, and to feast my eyes on her exquisite self! Even after a two days’ journey Charmion looked elegant. I believe she would look well groomed on a desert island. Some women seem born with this gift. It wasn’t given to me. I can be untidy on the slightest provocation!
“Indeed I can. There’s any amount of chit-chat to get through, apart from serious problems. You have done me out of my Paris shopping, Evelyn, but I’ve a box full of trophies for you all the same. Wherever I went, I picked up some token to prove that I remembered you all the time.”
“Oh! cheers! cheers!” I cried fervently. “That’s a good hearing! It is more blessed to give than to receive, but now and then, as a variety, it is refreshing to have an innings one’s self!”
She laughed at that, gripped my arm, and said:—“Oh, Evelyn, you are a dear! It’s good to be with you. It’s good to be back.” And we chatted in great contentment for the rest of the drive.
There were several hours to spare before dinner. I made Charmion take a bath, and then go really and truly to bed, until seven o’clock, when I woke her and issued orders for her prettiest, most becoming frock, grey, of course, a mist of silver and cloudy gauze. When she came into the little sitting-room she looked fresh and radiant—younger than I had ever beheld her. Looking at her, I was suddenly reminded of a line in one of dear Robert Louis Stevenson’s beautiful prayers—“Cleanse from our hearts the lurking grudge!” How can any immortal being, made in God’s own image, expect to be happy and healthful while he or she is cherishing bitter grudging feelings against a fellow-man? Charmion’s battle had been a long, up-hill fight, but it was won at last. The sign of victory was in her face. Now for the victor’s crown!
Dinner was cleared away. The waiter placed coffee on a small table and disappeared. Charmion piled up the cushions at one end of the sofa, nestled against them, and said smilingly:—
“Now! I’ve been very patient, but not another moment can I wait. There’s an air of mystery about you, Evelyn, a muffled excitement which intrigues me vastly. Oh! you’ve tried very hard! you kept up the chatter, but it’s been hard work. Your thoughts have strayed; half the time you have not heard my replies. Your eyes are dark and big—dilated, like an excited child’s! If you had not denied it so stoutly, I should feel convinced that there was a man—”
“My dear, this concerns you, not me. Charmion, can’t you guess? It is wonderful, wonderful news. Can’t you imagine whom it is about? You told me your story, but not his name—your name! When I heard it, it conveyed nothing to me. When I met him—”
She held out her hands, as if to ward off a blow. After all my fencing, the great news had come blurting out, without preface or preparation. White as a sheet, she stared at me with anguished eyes.