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"Dal, you ridiculous CHILD!" said the duchess. "Leave off talking about my maids, and my neck, and your crocodile tears, and finish describing the portrait. What do I do, with the mirror?" "You do not look into it," continued Garth Dalmain, meditatively; "because we KNOW that is a thing you never do.
I will be Robin, with the breaking heart, leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel tree; and Simpson can be the 'bolder lad. And we will all go and 'gather knots of flowers, and buds, and garlands gay." "Mr. Dalmain," said Nurse Rosemary, laughing, in spite of herself, "you really must be sensible, or I shall go and consult Margery. I have never seen you in such a mood."
"Jane," said the duchess, "for the third time this afternoon I must request you not to argue." "Miss Champion," said Garth Dalmain, "if I were your grandmamma, I should send you to bed." "What is to be done?" reiterated the duchess.
In the trying uncertainty of these few weeks while Jim Airth was still in England, she dreaded questions or comments. To Jane Dalmain she had written the whole truth. The Dalmains were at Worcester, attending a musical festival in that noblest of English cathedrals; but they expected soon to return to Overdene, when Jane had promised to come to her.
But the thought of that patient figure with bandaged eyes sitting upstairs in suspense, stretching dear helpless hands to him, steadied the doctor's nerve. He looked into the fire. "You may be blind, Dalmain, but I do not want you to be a fool," said the doctor quietly. "Am I was I a fool?" asked Garth. "How can I judge?" replied the doctor.
I cannot picture myself in a linen collar, nor can I conceive of myself as standing before Michael and informing him that I loved Jim!" Jane Dalmain laughed good-humouredly, plunged her large hands into the pockets of her tweed coat, stretched out her serviceable brown boots and looked at them.
What a mystery about a thing so simple!" added Mrs. Parker Bangs. "Now we have heard, Mr. Dalmain, that it is well worth the walk to the links to see you play. So you may expect us to arrive there, time to see you start around." Garth's eyes twinkled. Jane could hear the twinkle in his voice.
When her voice was there I always tried to do at once what the strange voices and the kind voice wished; because I was horribly afraid of being left alone with Mrs. Dalmain! Then I sometimes thought I heard a baby cry. Wasn't that queer?" Helen did not answer. A deep flush overspread her face, mounting from her chin to the roots of her hair. Was Ronnie going to remember?
"Yes," said Lady Ingleby, leaning forward to look intently up at the picture. "It often startles me as I come into the room, because I see a fresh expression on the face, just according to my own mood, or what I happen to have been doing; and I realise Michael's mind on the subject more readily from the portrait than from my own knowledge of him. Garth Dalmain was a genius!"
Dalmain looked earnestly at her friend. Her steadfast eyes were deeply troubled. "Myra," she said, "you are absolutely right in your definitions, and correct in your conclusions. But your mistake is this. You make no allowance for the sudden, desperate, overwhelming nature of the temptation before which Jim Airth fell. Remember all that led up to it. Think of it, Myra!
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