“And if you do cure him of his anti-Semitic mania, as you call it,” he said slowly, “what will be the practical result?”
“I cannot say; but it will be a victory worth achieving. Everyone knows how the Premier dominates the Government, both collectively and individually—how they have not the courage to move a step without his approval, how they follow him just like a flock of sheep. Cure him of his anti-Semitism, and there is no knowing what may happen. Do not discourage me, Ferdinand, I mean to try very hard.”
The clock struck four, and warned her that she was due in the sick-room; but she had so many messages to send that she could scarcely bear to tear herself away. If she had only known of his coming, she would have loaded him with presents for her dear ones, but he intended to start on the morrow, and it was too late to get anything now. So she was obliged to be content with sending her love—so much of it that Ferdinand laughingly declared he would never be able to carry it; and she wept a little in spite of his cheerful words. Then she said good-bye, and went to her own room for a few minutes to finish her cry.
It might be a long time before she saw a Montella again.
CHAPTER IV
LADY PATRICIA’S CONQUEST
Slowly, but surely, Phyllis Moore crept back to health, and as the danger of infection was over, Lady Chesterwood and Leslie returned to the Hall. The child had been ordered to Bournemouth to recuperate her lost strength, but the weather was so unfavourable that her father thought it advisable to wait for a possible improvement. He himself would not be able to leave London until the Christmas recess, and was rather glad than otherwise of the enforced delay.
Patricia was asked to accompany them, in order that her health might also benefit by the change; but as her services were no longer required, she politely but firmly declined. She acknowledged to Mamie that her stay at Ravenscroft Hall had been somewhat of a strain; and although she was glad to have been of use at so urgent a time, she did not care to remain as the Premier’s guest.
Athelstan Moore had shown very little appreciation of her magnanimity during the child’s illness, but as her stay drew to a close he gradually unbent, and on the last night he made an effort to express his gratitude for her kindness. Perhaps he felt more demonstrative than usual, for all Richmond was rejoicing at his little daughter’s happy recovery; and they had just returned from a crowded thanksgiving service at the parish church. He took her into the library after dinner on the pretext of showing her a particular edition de luxe, but in reality it was because he had something to say. He fidgeted uneasily with his diamond stud, and launched forth into a long explanation concerning the merits of his various editions of Shakespeare, whilst Patricia, knowing that he had not brought her there to discuss bibliography, waited as patiently as she could.
She sat down in front of the blazing log-fire, and watched him from the depths of a heavy arm-chair. He looked almost handsome that night, in spite of the lines on his forehead, and seemed to have regained a little of his former sprightliness. Yet, recollecting his visit to her father on the day of her marriage, she recognised a great difference. She remembered how his short, thick-set figure had bristled with indignation, and how the steely grey eyes had gleamed. She remembered his gestures—sharp, stern, commanding, just as the political caricaturists had pictured him in their cartoons—but there was little of that fiery alertness in his bearing now. He looked like a man who had in some peculiar way lost all verve: the features, the form, and the voice remained, but the animation which had given life to the whole personality was gone.
Abruptly finishing his superfluous dissertation, he took up his position on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire, and gazed moodily down at the parquet floor. Then glancing up suddenly his eye caught Patricia’s, and his face lit up with the faintest glimmer of a smile.