He broke off suddenly, fearing he said too much. He had spoken incoherently, and with a sharpness which betokened deep feeling. Zillah’s features relaxed into a forced expression of sympathy.
“Poor fellow!” she exclaimed softly. “You have suffered, and you are lonely. I can sympathise with you; for—although you would not think it—I am lonely too.”
“Yes?” He looked up quickly, to encounter the radiance of her eyes.
“I left England because I was unhappy,” she went on, in a confidential tone. “I was engaged to Lord St. Maur; but he was much younger than myself, and when his people found out, they persuaded him to break it off; and he was weak, and consented. Of course I wasn’t in love with him—he was a mere boy; but I would have married him if I could, since the man I did love—once—was beyond my reach.” She looked at him steadily, and added, in a different voice: “It is the loneliness I dread, and now I seem to have no aim in life. What is the use of my voice in Palestine? The greatest of singers is not wanted here.”
“Not yet, perhaps,” he added, in his usual voice, “but the time will come. At present all our energies are directed on the things necessary to the welfare of our citizens, the introduction of hygiene, the prevention of drought and famine, and so on. Afterwards we shall be able to turn our thoughts to lighter matters—the recreation of the people; and then you may be sure music will not be left out of account.”
“And meanwhile I must wait as patiently as I can?” She sighed. “Oh, dear, how I hate life—hate it! The inconsistencies, the mistakes, the waste of suffering—all one long series of disappointments.”
“And yet there do occur moments, sometimes, which make it worth while to have lived!”
“To you, perhaps, because you have experienced the joy of requited love, but not to me. Why, even that shallow-minded little Raie is happier than I am. She has a lover—she meets him every day, and that gives her a zest and joy in life which are like the condiments in food. But I am boring you—” She paused abruptly, and rose from her chair. “Let us go, or we shall have the full glare of the sun upon us. This intolerable heat is another of the evils which has fallen to our lot to bear.”
Lionel rose with alacrity, and replacing the coverings, relocked the door. He could not help wondering what had made Miss Lorm so unusually serious, and why she had chosen to favour him with her confidence. He was silent as they passed through the atrium, and Zillah, on her part, had little to say. She was thinking how much better it would be if Montella would and could get a divorce, so that he might be free to marry again. She knew that she was liked by his mother; and that if it were possible, she would have a good chance of becoming his second wife. To be mistress of this mansion! She caught her breath at the thought, albeit a foolish one. She knew that Patricia would be his wife as long as she lived, even though they never saw each other again.
“Did you not say Raie had a lover?” asked her companion, as he closed the great doors. “I did not know it.”