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As she watched him dancing with the four boys, a gulf seemed to yawn between her and them. She was alone on her side of this gulf, quite alone. They were remote from her. She suddenly realized that Delarey belonged to the south, and that she did not.
Their vigorous resistance foiled the enterprise and Delarey was driven off. Soon, however, the sound of firing on the heights showed that the Northumberland Fusilier posts on each side of the Nek were in action.
It was the expression that had changed. In cities one sees anxious-looking men everywhere. In London Delarey had stood out from the crowd not only because of his beauty of the South, but because of his light-hearted expression, the spirit of youth in his eyes.
I dare say I shall be very glad to see him back again at the end of the year, but that is neither here nor there. Mr. Delarey has sent me the name of some bankers in New York who will honour your cheques for whatever money you may require." "You are spoiling me, daddy," Ella sighed. Lord Ashleigh smiled. His hand had disappeared into the pocket of his dinner-coat.
"Happiness makes every land an Italy, eh?" said Artois. "I expect that's profoundly true." "Don't you don't you know?" ventured Delarey. "I! My friend, one cannot be proficient in every branch of knowledge." He spoke the words without bitterness, with a calm that had in it something more sad than bitterness.
How unworthy was his sensation of hostility against Delarey, his sensation that Hermione was wronging him by entering into this alliance, and how powerless he was to rid himself of either sensation! There was good cause for his melancholy his own folly. He must try to conquer it, and, if that were impossible, to rein it in before the evening.
"Be merciful to an invalid, Monsieur Delarey!" He spoke lightly, but he felt fully conscious now that his suspicion was well founded. Maurice was uneasy, unhappy. He wanted to get away from this peace that held no peace for him. He wanted to put something behind him. To a man like Artois, Maurice was a boy. He might try to be subtle, he might even be subtle for him.
There was no longer any talk of reducing the Army of occupation by one-half at the end of the year, and still more during the New Year; or of quenching the smouldering embers of the war with Baden-Powell's new South African Constabulary. Late in December the pursuit of Delarey, who had retired from Noitgedacht towards the S.W., was resumed.
It was like the spurt of a willing horse, a fine racing pace of the nature that woke pleasure and admiration in those who watched it. Artois felt at once that Delarey had no hostility towards him, but was ready to admire and rejoice in him as Hermione's greatest friend. He was met more than half-way.
It must have been me you heard. When you went under the water I cried out. Drink some wine, signorino." He held a glass full of wine to Delarey's lips. Delarey drank. "But you've got a man's voice, Gaspare!" he said, putting down the glass and beginning to get into his clothes. "Per Dio! Would you have me squeak like a woman, signore?" Delarey laughed and said no more.
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