Ailsa Paige. Chambers Robert William

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СКАЧАТЬ her, subtle currents seemed to be contending once more, disturbing her equanimity. She said, sweetly:

      "I am not as offended as I ought to be. But I do not see why you should disregard convention with me."

      "I didn't mean it that way," he said, leaning forward. "I couldn't stand not seeing you. That was all. Convention is a pitiful thing—sometimes—" He hesitated, then fell to studying the carpet.

      She looked at him, silent in her uncertainty. His expression was grave, almost absent-minded. And again her troubled eyes rested on the disturbing symmetry of feature and figure in all the unconscious grace of repose; and in his immobility there seemed something even of nobility about him which she had not before noticed.

      She stole another glance at him. He remained very still, leaning forward, apparently quite oblivious of her. Then he came to himself with a quick smile, which she recognised as characteristic of all that disturbed her about this man—a smile in which there was humour, a little malice and self-sufficiency and—many, many things she did not try to analyse.

      "Don't you really want an unreliable servant?" he asked.

      His perverse humour perplexed her, but she smiled.

      "Don't you remember that I once asked you if you needed an able-bodied man?" he insisted.

      She nodded.

      "Well, I'm that man."

      She assented, smiling conventionally, not at all understanding. He laughed, too, thoroughly enjoying something.

      "It isn't really very funny," he said, "Ask your brother-in-law. I had an interview with him before I came here. And I think there's a chance that he may give me a desk and a small salary in his office."

      "How absurd!" she said.

      "It is rather absurd. I'm so absolutely useless. It's only because of the relationship that Mr. Craig is doing this."

      She said uneasily: "You are not really serious, are you?"

      "Grimly serious."

      "About a—a desk and a salary—in my brother-in-law's office?"

      "Unless you'll hire me as a useful man. Otherwise, I hope for a big desk and a small salary. I went to Mr. Craig this morning, and the minute I saw him I knew he was fine enough to be your brother-in-law. And I said, 'I am Philip Ormond Berkley; how do you do!' And he said, 'How do you do!' And I said, 'I'm a relation,' and he said, 'I believe so.' And I said, 'I was educated at Harvard and in Leipsic; I am full of useless accomplishments, harmless erudition, and insolvent amiability, and I am otherwise perfectly worthless. Can you give me a position?'"

      "And he said: 'What else is the matter?' And I said, 'The stock market.' And that is how it remains, I am to call on him to-morrow."

      She said in consternation: "Forgive me. I did not think you meant it. I did not know that you were—were–"

      "Ruined!" he nodded laughingly. "I am, practically. I have a little left—badly invested—which I'm trying to get at. Otherwise matters are gay enough."

      She said wonderingly: "Had this happened when—I saw you that first time?"

      "It had just happened. I looked the part, didn't I?"

      "No. How could you be so—interesting and—and be—what you were—knowing this all the while?"

      "I went to that party absolutely stunned. I saw you in a corner of the box—I had just been hearing about you—and—I don't know now what I said to you. Afterward"—he glanced at her—"the world was spinning, Mrs. Paige. You only remained real—" His face altered subtly. "And when I touched you–"

      "I gave you a waltz, I believe," she said, striving to speak naturally; but her pulses had begun to stir again; the same inexplicable sense of exhilaration and insecurity was creeping over her.

      With a movement partly nervous she turned toward the door, but there sounded no rustle of her sister's skirts from the stairs, and her reluctant eyes slowly reverted to him, then fell in silence, out of which she presently strove to extract them both with some casual commonplace.

      He said in a low voice, almost to himself:

      "I want you to think well of me."

      She gathered all her composure, steadied her senses to choose a reply, and made a blunder:

      "Do you really care what I think?" she asked lightly, and bit her lip too late.

      "Do you believe I care about anything else in the world—now?"

      She went on bravely, blindly:

      "And do you expect me to believe in—in such an exaggerated and romantic expression to a staid and matter-of-fact widow whom you never saw more than once in your life?"

      "You do believe it."

      Confused, scarcely knowing what she was saying, she still attempted to make light of his words, holding her own against herself for the moment, making even some headway. And all the while she was aware of mounting emotion—a swift inexplicable charm falling over them both.

      He had become silent again, and she was saying she knew not what—fortifying her common-sense with gay inconsequences, when he looked up straight into her eyes.

      "I have distressed you. I should not have spoken as I did."

      "No, you should not–"

      "Have I offended you?"

      "I—don't know."

      Matters were running too swiftly for her; she strove to remain cool, collected, but confusion was steadily threatening her, and neither resentment nor indifference appeared as allies.

      "Mrs. Paige, can you account for—that night? The moment I touched you–"

      She half rose, sank back into her seat, her startled eyes meeting his.

      "I—don't know what you mean."

      "Yes—you know."

      Flushed, voices unsteady, they no longer recognised themselves.

      "You have never seen me but once," she said. "You cannot believe–"

      "I have not known a moment's peace since I first saw you."

      She caught her breath. "It is your business worries that torment you–"

      "It is desire to be near you."

      "I don't think you had better say such a thing–"

      "I know I had better not. But it is said, and it is true. I'm not trying to explain it to you or to myself. It's just true. There has not been one moment, since I saw you, which has been free from memory of you–"

      "Please–"

      "I scarcely know what I am saying—but it's true!" He checked himself. "I'm losing my head now, which isn't like me!" He choked and stood up; she could not move; every nerve in her had become tense with emotions so bewildering that mind and body remained fettered.

      He was walking СКАЧАТЬ