The sea! There was a magic in the very word that could, almost at any moment, summon tears to her eyes. Of course she accepted right gladly. If her husband’s duties were so pressing that the long-talked-of journey to Lewis and Borva had to be repeatedly and indefinitely postponed, here at least would be a chance of looking again at the sea—of drinking in the freshness and light and color of it—of renewing her old and intimate friendship with it that had been broken off for so long by her stay in this city of perpetual houses and still sunshine.
“You can tell her you will go when you see her to-night at Lady Mary’s. By the way, isn’t it time for you to begin to dress?”
“Oh, Lady Mary’s!” repeated Sheila mechanically, who had quite forgotten about her engagement for that evening.
“Perhaps you are too tired to go,” said her husband.
She was a little tired, in truth. But surely, just after her promises, spoken and unspoken, some little effort was demanded of her; so she bravely went to dress, and in about three-quarters of an hour was ready to drive down to Curzon Street. Her husband had never seen her look so pleased before in going out to any party. He flattered himself that his lecture had done her some good. There was fair common sense in what he had said, and although, doubtless, a girl’s romanticism was a pretty thing, it would have to yield to the actual requirements of society. In time he should educate Sheila.
But he did not know what brightened the girl’s face all that night, and put a new life into the beautiful eyes, so that even those who knew her best were struck by her singular beauty. It was the sea that was coloring Sheila’s eyes. The people around her, the glare of the candles, the hum of talking and the motion of certain groups dancing over there in the middle of the throng—all were faint and visionary, for she was busily wondering what the sea would be like the next morning, and what strange fancies would strike her when once more she walked on sand and heard the roar of waves. That, indeed, was the sound that was present in her ears while the music played and the people murmured around her. Mrs. Lorraine talked to her, and was surprised and amused to notice the eager fashion in which the girl spoke of their journey of the next day. The gentleman who took her in to supper found himself catechised about Brighton in a manner which afforded him more occupation than enjoyment. And when Sheila drove away from the house at two in the morning she declared to her husband that she had enjoyed herself extremely, and he was glad to hear it; and she was particularly kind to himself in getting him his slippers, and fetching him that final cigarette which he always had on reaching home; and then she went off to bed to dream of ships and flying clouds and cold winds, and a great and beautiful blue plain of waves.
PART VII.
CHAPTER XIV.
DEEPER AND DEEPER.
NEXT morning Sheila was busy with her preparations for departure, when she heard a hansom drive up. She looked out and saw Mr. Ingram step out; and before he had time to cross the pavement she had run around and opened the door, and stood at the top of the steps to receive him. How often had her husband cautioned her not to forget herself in this monstrous fashion!
“Do you think I had run away? Have you come to see me?” she said, with a bright, roseate gladness on her face, which reminded him of many a pleasant morning in Borva.