Her eyes were like the open eyes of a dead woman; it was as though, with a great effort of almost desperate concentration, she were driving her vision against some obstinate world of opposition, and the whole of life had meanwhile stayed to watch the issue.
A thin pale light from some street lamp lay, a faintly golden shadow, across the white ceiling.
Maggie stood by the door.
"I've come to say good-night, aunt."
"Ah, Maggie dear, is that you?" The pale oval face turned towards her.
"You won't be very late, will you?"
"Hadn't I better have a key, not to bother Martha?""Oh, Martha won't have gone to bed."
Maggie felt as though her whole evening would be spoilt did she know that Martha was waiting for her at the end of it.
"Oh, but it will be such a pity--"
"Martha will let you in, dear.Come and kiss me; I hope that you'll enjoy yourself."And then the strangest thing happened.Maggie bent down.She felt a tear upon her cheek and then the thin strong arms held her, for an instant, in an almost threatening embrace.
"Good-night, dear aunt," she said; but, outside the room, she had to stand for a moment in the dark passage to regain her control; her heart was beating with wild unreasoning terror.Although she had brushed her cheek with her hand the cold touch of the tears still lingered there.
Outside the house they were free.It looked so close and dark behind them that Maggie shivered a little and put her arm through her uncle's.
"That's all right," he said, patting her hand."We're going to enjoy ourselves."She looked up and saw Martin Warlock facing her.The unexpected meeting held both of them silent for a moment.To her it seemed that he had risen out of the very stones of the pavement, at her bidding, to make her evening wonderful.He looked so strong, so square, so solid after the phantom imaginations of the house that she had left, that the sight of him was a step straight into the heart of comfort and reassurance.
"I was just coming," he said, looking at her, "to leave a note for Miss Cardinal--from my father--""She's in," Maggie said.
"Oh, it wasn't to bother her--only to leave the note.About some meeting, I think.""We're just going out.This is my uncle--Mr.Warlock."The two men shook hands.
Mathew Cardinal smiled.His eyes closed, his greeting had an urgency in it as though he had suddenly made some discovery that gratified and amused him."Very glad to meet you--very glad, indeed, sir.Any friend of my niece's.I know your father, sir; know him and admire him."They all turned down the street together.Uncle Mathew talked, and then, quite suddenly, stopping under a lamp-post as though within the circle of light his charm were stronger, he said:
"I suppose, Mr.Warlock, you wouldn't do me the great, the extreme, honour of dining with myself and my niece at my humble little inn to-night? A little sudden--I hope you'll forgive the discourtesy--but knowing your father--"
Martin looked straight into Maggie's eyes.
"Oh, please do!" she said, her heart beating, as it seemed, against her eyes so that she dropped them.
"Well--" he hesitated."It's very good of you, Mr.Cardinal--very kind.As a matter of fact I was going to dine alone to-night--just a chop, you know, somewhere--if it's really not inconvenient I'll be delighted--"They walked on together.
As they passed into Garrick Street, she knew that she had never in all her life been so glad to be with any one, that she had never so completely trusted any one, that she would like to be with him often, to look after him, perhaps, and to be looked after by him.
Her feeling for him was almost ***less, because she had never thought, as most girls do, of love and the intrigue and coquetry of love.She was so ****** as to be shameless, and at once, if he had asked her then in the street to marry him she would have said yes without hesitation or fear, or any analysis.She would like to look after him as well as herself--there were things she was sure that she could do for him--and she would be no burden to him because she intended, in any case, to lead her own life.She would simply lead it with a companion instead of without one.
He must have felt as he walked with her this trust and simplicity.
She was certainly the most extraordinary girl whom he had ever met, and he'd met a number...
He could believe every word she said; he had never known any one so direct and ****** and honest, and yet with that she was not a fool, as most honest girls were.No, she was not a fool.He would have given anything to be as sure of himself...
She was plain--but then was she? As they passed beneath the light of a street lamp his heart gave a sudden beat.Her face was so GOOD, her eyes so true, her mouth so strong.She was like a boy, rather--and, of course, she was dressed badly.But he wanted to look after her.He was sure that she knew so little of the world and would be so easily deceived...But who was he to look after any one?
He knew that she would trust him utterly, and trust him not only because she was ignorant of the world, but also because she was herself so true.At the thought of this trust his heart suddenly warmed, partly with shame and partly with pride.
