The Following of the Star Part 26

Do let's stop arguing."

"We are not arguing," said David.

"Oh, then let's stop _not_ arguing!"

She lifted his hand and her m.u.f.f together, holding them closer to her.

"Let's sit quite still, David, and realise that the whole thing is safely over, and we are none the worse for it; and have got all we wanted in the world."

David said nothing. He had stopped "not arguing."

The train sped onward.

A sense of complete calm and rest came over the two who sat silent in their compartment, moving so rapidly toward the moment of inevitable parting. Diana's head was so near to David's that a loose strand of her soft hair blew against his face. She let her m.u.f.f drop, but still held his hand to her breast. She closed her eyes, sitting so still that David thought she had fallen asleep.

At length, without stirring, she said: "We shall write to each other, Cousin David?"

"If you wish."

"Of course I wish. Will you promise to tell me exactly how you are?"

"I never speak, think, or write, about my own health."

"Tiresome boy! Do you call this 'obeying' me?"

"I did not promise to obey you."

"Oh, no; I forgot. How wickedly one-sided the marriage service is! That is one reason why I always declared I never would marry. One law for the man, and another for the woman; and in a civilized country! We might as well be Hottentots! And what a slur on a woman to have to change her name--often for the worse. I knew a Miss Pound who married a Mr. Penny."

David did not laugh. He had caught sight of the distant s.h.i.+ps on Southampton water.

"Everybody made endless puns on the wedding-day," continued Diana. "I should have been in such a rage before the reception was over, had I been the bride, that no one would have dared come near me. It got on her nerves, poor girl; and when some one asked her just as they were starting whether she was going to take care of the Penny and leave the Pounds to take care of themselves, she burst into tears, and drove away, amid showers of rice, weeping! I think Mr. Penny must have felt rather 'cheap'; don't you? Well, anyway, I have kept my own name."

"You have taken mine," said David, with his eyes on the masts and funnels.

"How funny it will seem to get letters addressed: _Mrs. David Rivers_.

If my friends put D only, it might stand for 'Diana.' David--" she turned her head suddenly, without lifting it, and her soft eyes looked full into his dark ones--"David, what shall you call me, when you write?

I am no longer _Miss Rivers_, and you can hardly begin your letters: _My dear Mrs. Rivers_! That would be too formal, even for you! At last you will _have_ to call me 'Diana.'"

David smiled. "Not necessarily," he said. "In fact, I know how I shall begin my letters; and I shall not call you 'Diana.'"

"What then?" she asked; and her lips were very close to his.

David sat up, and touched the springs of the window-blind.

"I will tell you, as we say good-bye; not before. Look! We are running through Southampton. We shall be at the quay in two minutes."

CHAPTER XX

WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE COMPANY

Diana followed David up the gangway of the big liner, and looked around with intense interest at the floating hotel he was to inhabit during so many days; the vessel which was to bear him away to the land from which he never intended to return.

Diana experienced an exhilarating excitement as she and David stepped on board, amid a bustling crowd of other pa.s.sengers and their friends; the former already beginning to eye one another with interest; the latter, to follow with wistful gaze those from whom they would so soon be parted.

Diana had left the train, at the dock station, with very different sensations from those with which she had entered it at Waterloo. She now felt so indescribably happy and at rest; so completely rea.s.sured as to the future. David had been so tender and understanding, so perfect in all he had said and done, when once she had succeeded in making him realise how much more their new relations.h.i.+p meant to her, than it did to him. He had so patiently allowed her to hold his hand, during the remainder of the journey. She could feel it still, where she had pressed it against her bosom. It seemed to her that she would always feel it there, in any time of doubt or of difficulty. It must be because of David's essential goodness, that his touch possessed such soothing power. The moment he had laid his hand on hers, she had thought of the last verse of his favourite hymn.

Her car, sent down from town the day before, to be in readiness to take her home, awaited her as near the gangway of the steamer as the regulations of the wharf would allow. It was comforting to know that there would not be the need for a train journey, after David's departure. It might have seemed lonely without him. Once safely tucked into her motor, she was at home, no matter how long the run to Riverscourt might chance to be.

David caught sight of the car; and she had to stand, an amused spectator, while he ran quickly down to say good-bye to her footman and to her chauffeur. She saw the wooden stiffness of the footman, and the iron impa.s.sivity of the chauffeur, subside into humanity, as David shook them each by the hand, with a kindly word of remembrance and farewell.

Both automata, for the moment, became men. Diana could see the glow on their faces, as they looked after David. Had he tipped them each a five-pound note, they would have touched their hats, without a change of feature. In the warmth of this farewell, they forgot to touch their hats; but David had touched their hearts, which was better; and their love went with him, as he boarded the steamer.

This little episode was so characteristic of David. Diana thought it over, with tender amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes, as she followed him up the gangway. Wherever he went he won the hearts of those who served him. He found out their names, their joys and sorrows, their hopes and histories, with astonis.h.i.+ng rapidity. "I cannot stand the plan of calling people by their occupation," he used to say. "Like the crude British matron in the French hotel, who addressed the first man she met in a green ap.r.o.n, as 'Bottines!'"

So "Boots," "Waiter," and "Ostler," became "Tom," "d.i.c.k," and "Harry,"

to David, wherever he went; and while other people were served by machines, for so much a day, he was hailed by men, and waited on with affection. And he, who never forgot a face, also had the knack of never forgetting the name appertaining to that face, nor the time and circ.u.mstance in which he had previously come in contact with it.

Diana soon had evidence of this as they boarded the liner, on which David had already travelled. On all sides, impa.s.sive faces suddenly brightened into smiles of welcome; and David's "Hullo, Jim!" or "Still on board, Harry?" would be met with: "Glad to see you looking better, Mr. Rivers"; or "We heard you was a-coming, sir." David, who had left love behind, found love awaiting him.

Opposite the purser's office, he hesitated, and turned to Diana.

"Where would you like to go?" he said. "We have nearly an hour."

"I want to see over the whole s.h.i.+p," said Diana. "But first of all, of course, your cabin." David looked pleased, and led the way down to a lower deck, and along a narrow pa.s.sage, with doors on either side. At number 24 he stopped.

"Here we are," he said, cheerfully.

Diana entered a small cabin, already choked with luggage. It contained three berths. On two of them were deposited rugs, hand-bags, and men's cloth caps. A lower one was empty. Several portmanteaux blocked the middle of the small room. David followed her in, and looked around.

"Hullo!" he said. "Where is my baggage? Apparently it has not turned up.

This is my bunk, right enough."

"What a squas.h.!.+" exclaimed Diana.

Before David could reply, a steward put his head in at the door.

"Well, Martin," said David, "I'm back in my old quarters, you see. I am glad you are still on duty down this pa.s.sage."

The man saluted, and came in with an air of importance.

"Glad to see you, sir, I'm sure; and looking a deal better than when you came home, sir. But I'm not to have the pleasure of waiting on you this time, Mr. Rivers. The purser gave orders that I was to hand you this, as soon as you arrived."

He handed David a letter, addressed to himself.