It was a very happy week. The weather was all that could be desired for a seaside holiday,—bright yet not glaring, warm but not hot. The hotel was everything that was and comfortable, and, last and best of all, Cynthia kept bright and happy, and was better—not worse—for the visits of her old friends.
Every morning Betty accompanied Miles up to the , leaving Mr Gerard and Jill busy playing tennis, roving about on the shore, or engaged in that other occupation of throwing stones. For the first day or two she made excuses, and strolled away to join Mrs Alliot, but it soon became apparent to her quick senses that neither that lady nor, strangely enough, Miles himself encouraged these well-meant excursions. So for the rest of the time she sat in the shelter by Cynthia’s couch, and joined in the conversation. Sometimes Miles would be silent for almost the whole morning, listening while the two friends talked together as girls will—a pretty, innocent, sweet-hearted of home and friends and books and dresses, and “Do you remember,” and “Oh, just suppose,” which unconsciously revealed the character of both.
Absorbed as he was in Cynthia and all that belonged to her, Miles was more than once arrested by Betty herself, and asked himself if it could be true or only imagination that she had gained immensely in beauty, softness, and general charm since his return five weeks ago. There was an expression on her face in these last days which transfigured the old Betty into something a hundred times sweeter and more attractive. Happiness her as an atmosphere,—an almost tremulous happiness, as of one fearful of her own joy. Miles felt assured that Cynthia noticed this new development as he did himself, as he saw the grey eyes rest on her friend’s face with a tender wistfulness of gaze, and heard the fluttering sigh with which she turned aside.
Never again had Cynthia breathed a word of complaint for her own limitations. After that first involuntary outburst she had carefully clear of the subject of self, and thrown herself heart and soul into her companion’s interest. It was only when the last day of the short visit had been reached that she to her own plans.
“We are ordered to leave Franton. It is very hot and oppressive in July and August, and the doctors want us to go to some high mountain resort in Switzerland. We shall move on by easy stages as soon as possible—possibly next week. It is quite uncertain what we shall do for the autumn and winter; we may possibly move on to the Engadine. In any case I’m afraid it is unlikely that we shall return to England. Will there be any chance of seeing you when we return in spring, Miles?”
And then Betty received a shock, for Miles replied quietly—
“I shall be back in Mexico long before then. I don’t think I shall take more than three months’ holiday this time. One gets tired of loafing after a busy life. I shall want to get back to work.”
“Miles, how can you!” cried his sister . “Three months! In another seven weeks—it’s impossible! We have hardly had time to realise that you are home. We made sure that you would be with us till after Christmas at least. Three months’ holiday after all these years! Oh, Miles, you can’t mean it!”
“I came home to see you all, Betty, and to satisfy myself that you were well; when that’s done there’s no more excuse for lazying. I am entitled to a year’s rest, if I like to take it; but if I go back now I shall be nine months nearer my next visit; and if the mine does all that we expect, I shall be back sooner than you imagine. Three years—even two—may see me home again, and then—things may be changed—it may be easier to stay—!”
He kept his eyes lowered as he , but Betty understood. Perhaps Cynthia did too, for her pale cheeks flushed, and she made not a word of comment.
When Miles rose a few minutes later, she said “Good-bye” to him in exactly the same words which she had used six years before—
“Good-bye, Miles. I won’t forget!”
And Miles crushed her little hands in his, and walked silently away.
At the gate Mrs Alliot was awaiting him, as on the morning of his first visit. She looked wistfully at the stern, white face, then laid her hand on his arm, and said in a tremulous voice—
“Mr Trevor—I—I want to thank you! You have been very brave and kind. Don’t think I have not understood—mothers always understand—but for Cynthia’s sake I was obliged to be selfish. It might have all she has gained, to have had any great excitement or . She is very young yet—only twenty-two—and she looks upon you as a friend of her school-days. It was better for every reason that your relations should remain unchanged.”
Then Miles faced her, a tall figure to his full height, with shoulders squared and flashing eyes.
“For the present, yes! I have respected your wishes, and put my own hopes on one side. Now I am going back to work like ten men rather than one. If things go as we expect—as we have a right to expect—in a few years’ time I shall be able to live where I please, to choose my home where it best suits myself—and others. If I live, Mrs Alliot, I shall be home again in a few years’ time, and then I warn you that nothing and nobody shall keep me apart from Cynthia if she will be my wife. If she has recovered—well! If she is ill—I will take care of her! I have served for her six years already. I will serve six more if needs be, but I shall claim her in the end!”
“And if it is God’s will that she lives and loves you, I will give her to you gladly. You are a good man, Miles. God bless you! All good go with you!” said Mrs Alliot warmly.
Then they shook hands and parted. For how long? It was impossible to say. Before Miles lay the far country, danger by land and sea, a hard, life; before Cynthia years of what at the best must be a slow, difficult , with the ever-present danger of a relapse into her old condition. Only God knew, Who holds the issue of time. Their greatest stronghold lay in their confidence in Him.
That evening Betty sat beside Will Gerard on the sloping beach, and watched the sun set in a silence with . Miles’ announcement of a speedy return to America had planted a in her heart which was not on his own account; for if he went, would not his partner go too, leaving her to a life of such blank emptiness as was terrifying to ? All day long the thought had haunted her; she had longed yet to speak on the subject, and now that evening was here, she felt it impossible to face the long hours of the night without some certain knowledge.
A few minutes before, Miles had taken Jill for a walk along the sands; in a sh............