Mary Gray Part 30

They went up to the drawing-room. Nelly was sitting in a chair by the open window as Robin had left her, tearless, her unemployed hands lying in her lap. The circle of dogs about her watching her with anxious eyes would have been humorous in other circ.u.mstances. The lamps were lit behind her, but there was no light on her face, except the dying light in the pale western sky.

"I have brought you a visitor, Nelly," Robin said.

She looked up indifferently. Then something of interest stirred in her face.

"You have heard what has happened?" she said in a half-whisper.

Mary knelt down beside her and put her arms round the little frozen figure.

"Why, you are cold!" she said. "Come away from the window. I am going to ask for a fire, and then you will talk to me about it."

Robin Drummond left them together, and went down to tell Pat to light the fire in the drawing-room, because Miss Nelly was cold.

CHAPTER XXV

THE ONE WOMAN

Mary Gray's loving, capable care and sympathy carried Nelly through the worst days of her trouble. There were times when Mary had to hold the girl's hands, to fight with all her might against the acute suffering which menaced for a time her sanity and her health. The horrors into which Nelly fell when she thought upon the things which happened in such wars as this with cruel and cunning savages, were the worst things to fight. There were hours in which all the fears of the world seemed to be let loose on the unhappy child, when it seemed impossible to vanquish those powers of darkness with one poor woman's love and prayers. During these days Mary Gray hardly left Nelly's side. Fortunately she had ceased to direct the Bureau, and another capable, much more common-place, young woman had taken up her task. The official appointment was on its way, but had not yet arrived. So she was free to devote herself to her friend.

The doctor whom Sir Denis called in could do little for the patient except prescribe sleeping draughts to be taken at need. He understood that the girl had had a shock. He suggested a change, but Nelly would not hear of that. She must stay on in London where the first news would come. So stay on they did, through the torrid heats of July, when the dust was in arid drifts on the Square green gardens and blew in through the open windows, powdering everything with its faint grey.

"This young lady is better than my prescriptions," the doctor said handsomely of Mary Gray. And added, "Indeed, what can we do for sorrow except give the body a sedative?"

"If she could face her trouble clear-eyed," Mary said, "I should feel glad in spite of everything. It is these mists and shadows in her mind that it is so hard to fight against."

After a little while they were left pretty well to themselves in Sherwood Square. The Dowager was angry with Nelly as her son had antic.i.p.ated; and, after a scene with Robin which prevented a scene with Sir Denis, she had gone off over the sea to the Court. Everybody went out of town: even Sherwood Square emptied itself away to the sea and the foreign spas. Only Robin Drummond stayed in town and came constantly.

During the early days when Nelly kept the house and refused obstinately to go out of doors, he would leave Sir Denis in charge and carry Mary off for a walk in the Square.

The first sign of interest that Nelly showed in other things than her sorrow was when she indicated to her father the distant figures of Mary and Robin moving briskly along at the farther side of the Square.

"Do you notice anything there, papa?" she asked.

"What do you mean, my pet?"

Sir Denis was quite flurried at Nelly's suddenly coming out of her brooding silence.

"I mean Mary and Robin," she answered. "It has been borne in on me that that is why Robin was not in love with me. Poor Robin! He would have gone through it heroically. Never say again, papa, that he is not a true Drummond. And I should never have known if he could have helped it that I wasn't the only woman for him."

"You don't mean to say, Nell, that Robin is in love with Miss Gray?"

"That is it, papa."

The General turned very red. For a second his impulse was towards wrath; then he checked himself.

"To be sure, as you didn't want him, Nell, it would be the height of unreasonableness to expect poor Robin to be miserable for your sake. And Miss Gray is a fine creature--a fine, handsome, clever creature. Still, there is a great difference in their positions. It will be a blow to the Dowager."

"Mrs. Ilbert would not have minded."

"G.o.d bless my soul! You don't mean to say that Miss Gray could have had Ilbert?"

"She has refused him, but I don't think he has given up hope."

"G.o.d bless my soul! Why, the Ilberts are connected with half the peerage. We Drummonds are only country squires beside them. Such a handsome fellow too, and with such a reputation! Why should she refuse Ilbert? Is the girl mad?"

"Robin was first in the field. But I happen to know that Mary refused Mr. Ilbert while yet Robin and I were engaged. What do you think of that?"

"Madder and madder. I don't understand women, Nell. Such a fellow as Ilbert! Why, he might marry anybody. We must make it easy for them with the Dowager, Nell--as easy as we can. We owe a good deal to Miss Gray."

"Oh, she'll come round--she'll have to come round."

"Do you suppose they understand each other, Nell?"

"I don't think Robin has spoken. He seems to be waiting for something. I have only noticed the last day or two. Before that I was absorbed in my troubles--such a selfish daughter, papa."

"My darling, we have all felt with you. It is so good to see you more yourself, Nell."

"Ah!" She turned away her head. "I have a feeling--there is no reason for it at all--that good news is coming. I felt it when I awoke this morning."

Meanwhile Robin Drummond and Mary had the Square almost to themselves, except for a gardener or two. All around the Square were shuttered and silent houses. It was the most torrid of early August days, and presently the heat drove them to a sheltered seat beneath a tree. In the mist of heat around them the bedding-plants, the scarlet geraniums, the lobelia and beet, made a vivid glare. Only in the forest trees, too dense for the dust to penetrate, were there shadow and relief.

They were talking of Nelly.

"She will be all right now," Mary said. "She has come out of the darkness. Even if she has his death to bear I think she will bear it.

She reproaches herself for the pain she has caused her father."

"Poor Uncle Denis! He lives in terror about Nelly. She is all he has had since her mother died."

"I think he may rest easy now. Nelly is not going to die--not even of grief. Now that she is better, Sir Robin, why don't you go away? I know your yacht is waiting for you, and you have got the London look; you want change."

"I shan't go till there is news one way or another."

"There ought to be news soon. It is hard on you waiting from day to day."

"I don't feel it hard. Perhaps if the good news came I might induce them to come away with me on the yacht. It would be the best thing in the world for them. For the matter of that, why don't you go away? You also have the London look."

"Oh, I shall go gladly when I may. I am really longing to be off. Do you know what I shall hear when I go over there?--a sound I am longing for."

"What?"

"The rain. I close my eyes now and fancy I hear it pattering on the leaves. Oh, the music of it! One is never long without it at home. We've had six weeks without rain here. Can't you imagine the soft, delicious downpour of it? The music of the rain--my ears hunger for it."

"Oh, now indeed I see that it is time you went. You will probably have enough of the rain."

He spoke gloomily, and she laughed.