For several minutes Lady Ruth said nothing. She was leaning back in the farthest corner of her chair, her head resting slightly upon her fingers, her eyes studying with a curious intentness the outline of Wingrave's pale, hard face. He himself, either unconscious of, or indifferent to her close scrutiny, had simply the air of a man possessed of an inexhaustible fund of patience.
"Wingrave," she said quietly, "I think that the time has gone by when I was afraid of you."He turned slightly towards her, but he did not speak.
"I am possessed," she continued, "at present, of a more womanly sentiment. Iam curious."
"Ah!" he murmured, "you were always a little inclined that way.""I am curious about you," she continued. "You are, comparatively speaking, young, well-looking enough, and strong. Your hand is firmly planted upon the lever which moves the world. What are you going to do?""That," he said, "depends upon many things."
"You may be ambitious," she remarked. "If so, you conceal it admirably. You may be devoting your powers to the consummation of vengeance against those who have treated you ill. There are no signs of that, either, at present.""We have excellent authority," he remarked, "for the statement that a considerable amount of satisfaction is derivable from the exercise of that sentiment.""Perhaps," she answered, "but the pursuit of vengeance for wrongs of the past is the task of a fool. Now, you are not a fool. You carry your life locked up within you as a strong man should. But there are always some who may look in through the windows. I should like to be one.""An empty cupboard," he declared. "A cupboard swept bare by time and necessity."She shook her head.
"Your life," she said, "is molded towards a purpose. What is it?""I must ask myself the question," he declared, "before I can tell you the answer!""No," she said, "the necessity does not exist. Your reckless pursuit of wealth, your return here, the use you are ****** of my husband and me, are all means towards some end. Why not tell me?""Your imagination," he declared, "is running away with you.""Are you our enemy?" she asked. "Is this seeming friendship of yours a cloak to hide some scheme of yours to make us suffer? Or--" She drew a little closer to him, and her eyes drooped.
"Or what?"he repeated.
"Is there a little left," she whispered, "of the old folly?""Why not?" he answered quietly. "I was very much in love with you.""It is dead," she murmured. "I believe that you hate me now!"Her voice was almost a caress. She was leaning a little towards him; her eyes were seeking to draw his.
"Hate you!" How impossible!" he said calmly. "You are still a beautiful woman, you know, Ruth."He turned and studied her critically. Lady Ruth raised her eyes once, but dropped them at once. She felt herself growing paler. A spasm of the old fear was upon her.
"Yes," he continued, "age has not touched you. You can still pour, if you will, the magic drug into the wine of fools. By the bye, I must not be selfish. Aren't you rather neglecting your guests?""Never mind my guests," she answered. "I have been wanting to talk to you alone for days. Why have you done this? Why are you here? What is it that you are seeking for in life?""A little amusement only," he declared. "I cannot find it except amongst my own kind.""You have not the appearance of a pleasure seeker," she answered.
"Mine is a passive search," he said. "I have some years to live--and of solitude, well, I have tasted at once the joys and the depths.""You are not in love with me any longer, are you?" she asked.
"I am not bold enough to deny it," he answered, "but do not be afraid that Ishall embarrass you with a declaration. To tell you the truth, I have not much feeling left of any sort.""You mean to keep your own counsel, then?" she asked.
"It is so little to keep," he murmured, "and I have parted with so much!"She measured the emotion of his tone, the curious yet perfectly natural indifference of his manner, and she shivered a little. Always she feared what she could not understand.
"I had hoped," she said sadly, "that we might at least have been friends."He shook his head.
"I have no fancy," he declared, "for the cemeteries of affection. You must remember that I am beginning life anew. I do not know myself yet, or you! Let us drift into the knowledge of one another, and perhaps--""Well! Perhaps?"
"There may be no question of friendship!"
Lady Ruth went back to her guests, and with the effortless ease of long training, she became once more the gracious and tactful hostess. But in her heart, the fear had grown a little stronger, and a specter walked by her side.
Once during the evening, her husband looked at her questioningly, and she breathed a few words to him. He laughed reassuringly.
"Oh! Wingrave's all right, I believe," he said, "it's only his manner that puts you off a bit. He's just the same with everyone! I don't think he means anything by it!"Lady Ruth shivered, but she said nothing. Just then Aynesworth came up, and with a motion of her fan she called him to her.
"Please take me into the other room," she said "I want a glass of champagne, and on the way you can tell me all about America.""One is always ****** epigrams about America," he protested, smiling. "Won't you spare me?""Tell me, then, how you progress with your great character study!""Ah!" he remarked quietly, "you come now to a more interesting subject.""Yes?"
"Frankly, I do not progress at all."
"So far as you have gone?"
