Raine laughed in his kind way, reassuring the old man.
“It was not I that sent for you,” continued the latter. “It was Felicia. There was no longer any reason for you to stop away—and she insisted. Girls' hearts are mysterious books. Don't search into hers, Raine. Forget it—seek your happiness where it is truest, my son—and then it will be mine.”
Raine did not press the subject. He was somewhat puzzled, but he gathered that she had spoken and that silence would be the more delicate part. He postponed further consideration of the matter; for which he may be forgiven, as the longing for Katherine was tugging at his heart-strings. Besides, he was honestly very hungry, and dinner was in progress.
After a hurried toilet he went down to the dining-room. The first sound that struck his ear, as he entered, was the pop of a champagne cork and the voice of Hockmaster, who was sitting at the lower end, with his back to the door, next to Mme. Boccard. The waiter was in the act of filling his glass from a large bottle of champagne. The blaze of light after the darkness of the corridors dazzled Raine, and he paused for a second on the threshold, glancing up the table. He was greeted by two rows of welcoming faces turned towards him and a chorus of kind salutations. The old commandant stretched up his hand behind his chair and gave a vigorous handshake. Mme. Popea looked up at him, with a smile over her good-natured face, as he passed along. But he had eyes only for Katherine. A curious little spasm passed through him, as he met her glance. It seemed to contain a world of fears. She was looking pale and ill.
Mme. Boccard, in her high-pitched voice, directed him to take the professor's place at the head of the table. He found himself thus between Felicia and Katherine. Felicia greeted him naturally. Katherine gave him a cold, trembling hand, and an almost furtive look. Evidently something had happened during his absence, of whose nature he was ignorant. She was no longer the same woman. Mere feminine shyness would not account for this suppressed agitation. The food on her plate had remained untouched. For a moment he lost sense of the scene round him. The universe consisted in this woman with the ashen face and quickly heaving bosom. He bent towards her,—“Are you ill?” he whispered, his emotion expressing itself by the first chance commonplace.
“No,” she returned hurriedly, in the same tone. “A sudden faintness—my heart, perhaps. Don't notice me—for heaven's sake! I shall be better soon.”
Question and answer passed too quickly to attract attention. Raine recovered his balance, and turned to Felicia.
“My father seems to be getting on nicely, thanks to you,” he said kindly.
“Ca, not to me. To you. Since your reply came to-day.”
“I am always so nervous when he gets seedy. He is not strong, I have been full of direful imaginations all the afternoon.”