Sinister Street

A week pa.s.sed. There was no moon now, and the nights grew warmer. It was weather to make lovers happy, but Guy seemed worried. He would not come for walks with Michael through the dark and scented water-meadows, and Michael used to think that often at night he was meeting Pauline. It made him jealous to imagine them lost in this amaranthine profundity.

They were happy now, if through all their lives they should never be happy again. Yet Guy was obviously fretted: he was getting spoiled by good fortune. "And I have had about a fortnight of incomplete happiness," Michael said to himself. Supposing that a calamity fell upon him during this delay. He would never cease to regret his weakness in granting his mother's request: he would hate Stella for having interfered: his life would be miserable forever. Yet what calamity did he fear? In a sudden apprehension, he struck a match and read her last letter:

1 ARARAT HOUSE,

ISLAND ROAD, W.

My dear,

It's getting awfully dull in London. Miss Harper asked me to call her "Mabel." Rather cheek, I thought, don't you think so? But she's really awfully decent. I can't write a long letter because we're going to the Palace. I say, do buck up and come back to London, I'm getting bored. Love and kisses.

Lily.

What's the good of _writing_ "kisses"?

What indeed was the good of writing "kisses"? Michael thought, as the match fizzed out in the dewy gra.s.s at his feet. It was not fair to treat Lily like this. He had captured her from life with Sylvia, because he had meant to marry her at once. Now he had left her alone in that flat with a woman he did not know at all. Whatever people might say against Lily, she was very patient and trustful. "She must love me a good deal," Michael said. "Or she wouldn't stand this casual treatment."

Pauline came to tea next day with her sisters Margaret and Monica.

Michael had an idea that she did not like him very much. She talked shyly and breathlessly to him; and he, embarra.s.sed by her shyness, answered in monosyllables.

"Pauline is rather jealous of you," said Guy that evening, as they sat in the library.

"Jealous of me?" Michael was amazed.

"She has some fantastic idea that you don't approve of our engagement.

Of course, I told her what nonsense she was thinking; but she vowed that this afternoon you showed quite plainly your disapproval of her. She insists that you are very cold and severe."

"I'm afraid I was very dull," Michael confessed apologetically. "But I was really envying you and her for being together in May."

"Together!" Guy repeated. "It's the object of everyone in Wychford to keep us apart!"

"Do tell her I'm not cold," Michael begged. "And say how lovely I think her; for really, Guy, she is very lovely and strange. She is a fairy's child."

"She is, she is," Guy said. "Sometimes I'm nearly off my head with the sense of responsibility I have for her happiness. I wonder and wonder until I'm nearly crazed."

"I'm feeling responsible just now

"I don't think I can come away."

"Oh, yes, you can. Of course. You must," Michael urged.

"Pauline will be more jealous of you than ever, if I do."

"For one night," Michael pleaded. "I must see her. And you must meet her. Everyone has been so rotten about her, and, Guy, you'll appreciate her. I won't bore you by describing her. You must meet her to-morrow.

And the rooms in Ararat House. By Jove, you'll think them wonderful. You should see her in candlelight among the mirrors. Pauline won't mind your coming away with me for a night. We'll stay at Cheyne Walk."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I'm rather hard up just now...."

"Oh, what rot! This is my expedition. And when you've seen her, you must talk to my mother about her. She's so prejudiced against Lily. You will come, won't you?"

Guy nodded a promise, and Michael went off to bed on the excitement of to-morrow's joy.

Guy would not start before the afternoon, and Michael spent the morning under a willow beside the river. It was good to lie staring up at the boughs, and know that every fleecy cloud going by was a cloud nearer to his seeing Lily again.

Michael and Guy arrived at Paddington about five o'clock.

"We'll go straight round from here and surprise her," Michael said, laughing with excitement, as they got into a taxi. "She'll have had a letter from me this morning, in which I was lamenting not seeing her for six weeks. My gad, supposing she isn't in! Oh, well, we can wait. You'll love the room, and we'll all three sit out in the garden to-night, and you'll tell me as we walk home to Chelsea what you think of her. Guy you've absolutely got to like her. And if you don't... oh, but you will. It isn't everybody who can appreciate beauty like hers. And there's an extraordinary subtlety about her. Of course, she isn't at all subtle. She's simple. In fact, that's one of the things Stella has got against her. What I call simplicity and absence of training for effect Stella calls stupidity. My own belief is that you'll be quite content to look at her and not care whether she talks or not. I tell you, she's like a Piero della Francesca angel. Cheer up, Guy. Why are you looking so depressed?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Guy. "I'm thinking what a lucky chap you are.

What's a little family opposition when you know you're going to be able to do what you want? Who can stop you? You're independent, and you're in love."

"Of course they can't stop me!" Michael cried, jumping up and down on the cus.h.i.+ons of the taxi in his excitement. "Guy, you're great! You really are. You're the only person who's seen the advantage of going right ahead. But don't look so sad yourself. You'll marry your Pauline."

"Yes, in about four years," Guy sighed.

"Oh, no, no; in about four months. Will Pauline like Lily? She won't be jealous of me when I'm married will she?"

"No, but I think I shall be," Guy laughed.

"Laugh, you old devil, laugh!" Michael shouted. "Here we are. Did you ever see such a house? It hasn't quite the austerity of Plashers Mead, has it?"

"It looks rather fun," Guy commented.

"You know," Michael said solemnly, pausing for a moment at the head of the steps going down to the front door. "You know, Guy, I believe that you'll be able to persuade my mother to withdraw all her opposition to-night. I believe I'm going to marry Lily this week. And I shall be so glad--Guy, you don't know how glad I shall be."

He ran hurriedly down the steps and had pressed the bell of Number One before Guy had entered the main door.

"I say, you know, it will be really terrible if she's out after all my boasting," said Michael. "And Miss Harper, too--that's the housekeeper--my housekeeper, you know. If they're both out, we'll have to go round and wait in the garden until they come in. Hark, there's somebody coming."

The door opened, and Michael hurried in.

"Hullo, good afternoon, Miss Harper. You didn't expect to see me, eh?

I've brought a friend. Is Miss Haden in the big room?"

"Miss Haden is out, Mr. Fane," said the housekeeper.

"What's the matter? You're looking rather upset."

"Am I, Mr. Fane?" she asked blankly. "Am I? Oh, no, I'm very well. Oh, yes, very well. It's the funny light, I expect, Mr. Fane."

She seemed to be choking out all her words, and Michael looked at her sharply.

"Well, we'll wait in the big room."

"It's rather untidy. You see, we--I wasn't expecting you, Mr. Fane."

"That's all right," said Michael. "Hulloa...I say, Guy, go on into that room ahead. I'll be with you in a minute."

Guy mistook the direction and turned the handle of Lily's bedroom door.