Phyllis of Philistia Part 34

"Ella," he cried, but in a low voice, "Ella, when I look at her, when I think of her, I feel inclined to throw my bag into a trap and get back to town--get back to New Guinea with as little delay as possible."

"You would run away?" said she, still smiling. She had begun to work with the rose in her bosom once more. "You would run away? Well, you ran away once before, you know."

She could not altogether keep the sneer out of her voice; she could not quite deprive her words of their sting. They sounded to her own ears like the hiss of a lash in the air. She was amazed at the amount of bitterness in her voice--amazed and ashamed.

He stood before her, silently looking at her. There was no reproach in his eyes.

"Oh, Bertie, Bertie, forgive me!" she said, laying her hand on his arm.

"Forgive me; I don't know what I am saying."

There was some piteousness in her voice and eyes. She was appealing to him for pity, but he did not know it. Every man thinks that the world was made for himself alone, and he goes tramping about it, quite careless as to where he plants his heavy feet. When occasionally he gets a thorn in one of his feet, he feels quite aggrieved. He never stops to think of all the things his foot crushes quite casually.

Herbert Courtland had no capacity for knowing how the woman before him was suffering. He should have known, from the words he had just heard her speak. He should have known that they had been wrung from her. He did not know, however; he was not thinking of her.

"Bertie," she said again, "Bertie, you are not angry? I did not know what I was saying."

"You are a woman," he said gently, and it was just by reason of this gentleness that there seemed to be a reproach in his voice. He reproached her for being a woman.

"I am a woman--just as other women, just as other women." Her voice sounded like a moan. "I thought myself different, stronger--perhaps worse than other women. I was wrong. Oh, Bertie! cannot you see that she loves you as I loved you long ago--oh, so long ago? And someone has said that there is no past tense in love! No, no! she does not love you as I loved you--guiltily; no, her love is the love that purifies, that exalts. She loves you, and she waits for you to tell her that you love her. You love her, Bertie?"

There was a long pause before he said:

"Do I?"

"Do you not?"

"G.o.d knows."

And it was at this point that Phyllis came up. Was there no expression of suspicion on her face as she looked at them standing together?

If there was, they failed to notice it.

"I came out to get a rose," she said. "How quickly you dressed, Ella!

Ah, you have got your rose--a beauty! Your gardener is generous; he actually allows you to pluck your own roses."

"Mr. Courtland will choose one for you," said Ella. "You may trust Mr.

Courtland."

"To choose me a rose? Well, on that recommendation, Mr. Courtland, I think I may safely place myself in your hands. I will accept a rose of your choosing."

And she did.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

LET THEM BOTH GO TOGETHER TO PERDITION.

There could be no doubt whatever that, after all, he had not proposed to her.

That was what Herbert Courtland's fellow-guests said when they learned that he had left for London by an early train on Monday morning.

And the way she had thrown herself at his head, too!

Of course she pretended not to feel his departure any more than the rest of the party; and equally as a matter of course, Mrs. Linton protested that Mr. Courtland had disappointed her.

And perhaps he had, too, some of the guests whispered to one another.

Mr. Linton shrugged his shoulders and remarked that business was business.

Everyone agreed with the general accuracy of this a.s.sertion, but it was not one that required much boldness to make, and what it had to do with Mr. Courtland's hurried departure no one seemed quite able to perceive.

The general idea that had prevailed at The Mooring on the subject of Mr. Courtland was that he would remain at the house after all the other guests--Miss Ayrton only excepted--had left.

During Monday several were to return to town, and the remainder on Tuesday, including Miss Ayrton. She required to do so to be in time for a grand function at which Royalty was to be present on that night. Mrs.

Linton herself meant to return on Wednesday afternoon.

It was late on Sunday night when Herbert had gone to Ella's side and told her that he found it necessary to leave for town early in the morning instead of waiting until Tuesday evening.

"Good Heavens!" she cried; "what is the meaning of this? What will people say? You do not mean to tell me that she--she----Oh, no; that would be impossible!"

"Nothing is impossible," said he. "Nothing--not even my running away."

"You have told her----"

"I have told her nothing. I am not sure that I have anything to tell her. I am going away to make sure."

"Oh! very well. But I must say that I think you are wrong--quite wrong.

There is that Mr. Holland; he is coming into greater prominence than ever since that article of his appeared in the _Zeit Geist_. Stephen says he will certainly have to leave the Church."

"What has Mr. Holland got to say to----"

"More than meets the eye. You must remember that three months ago she was engaged to marry him. Now, though I don't mean to say that she ever truly loved him, yet there is no smoke without fire; it is very often that two persons who have become engaged to be married love each other.

Now, if Phyllis ever had a tender feeling for Mr. Holland, and only threw him over because his theories are not those of Philistia, in the midst of which she had always lived, that feeling is certain to become tenderer if he is about to be made a martyr of. Would you like to see her thrown away upon George Holland?"

Herbert looked at the woman who could thus plead the cause--if that was not too strong a phrase--of the girl whom he had come to love. He felt that he was only beginning to know something about woman and her nature.

"I must go," he said. "I must go. I am not sure of myself."

"You had best make sure of her, and then you will become sure of yourself," said Ella.

"That would be to do her an injustice. No. I feel that I must go," he cried.

And go he did.

Those of the guests who remained during Monday did their best to find out how Phyllis was disposed to regard his departure; and there was a consensus of opinion among them that she seemed greatly mortified, though she made a splendid fight, trying to appear utterly indifferent.

There was, however, no ignoring the circ.u.mstance that Ella was elated at his departure; some of her guests even went so far as to suggest that she had accelerated his departure, giving him to understand that, however a young woman might throw herself at his head,--and didn't Phyllis just throw herself at his head?--he had no right to give her all his attention; a hostess has a right to claim some of his spare moments.