The Hillman

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by E. Phillips Oppenheim


  XXIX

  Back again to his rooms, and, later on, once more to Louise's littlehouse in Kensington; a few minutes' masterful pleading, and thensuccess. Louise wrapped herself up and descended to the street by hisside.

  For an hour or more John drove steadily westward, scarcely speaking morethan a chance word. It was twilight when he brought the car to astandstill. Louise raised her veil and looked up.

  "Well?" she asked inquiringly.

  He pushed back the throttle on his steering-wheel and stopped theengine. Then he turned toward her.

  "I have something to say to you," he said. "I have brought you here thatI may say it in my own way and in my own atmosphere."

  She responded instantly to his mood, although she did not yet grasp thefull significance of the situation. She leaned forward in the car, andher eyes were lighted with interest. Into their faces a slight,drizzling rain was carried at intervals by a gusty, north wind. The skywas murky gray, except for one black mass of cloud that seemed bendingalmost over their heads.

  Down at their feet--they had made a circuit and were facing Londonagain--began the long lines of feeble lights which lit the great avenuesstretching onward to the city, the lights of suburban thoroughfares, oflocal railways, and here and there a more brilliant illumination of somepicture palace or place of amusement. Farther away still, the vast glowfrom the heart of the city was beginning to flare against the murkysky--here red and threatening, as if from some great conflagration; inother places yellow, with a sicklier light of fog-strangled brilliance.

  "This is like you!" Louise murmured. "You had to bring me out to ahilltop, on the dreariest hour of a wet March afternoon, to tellme--what?"

  "First of all," John began, "I will answer a question which you haveasked me three times since we started out this afternoon. You wanted toknow how I found out that you were not going to tea with the prince.Well, here is the truth. I asked the prince to change the day of yourvisit to him."

  Her fine, silky eyebrows came a little closer together.

  "You asked him that?" she repeated.

  John nodded.

  "And he consented?"

  "I will explain," John continued. "It was a most unfortunatecircumstance, but in the club, after lunch, the subject of spending theafternoon came up. The prince spoke of an engagement. He was tied athome, he said, from four to six. Some of the men began to chaff him, andsuggested that he was entertaining some lady friend, his latestfavorite--well, I dare say you can imagine the rest," John broke off."The prince, thoughtlessly, I am sure, and probably to get rid of them,pleaded guilty. Then I came down to see you, and from what you said Idiscovered that it was you who were to be his visitor."

  Her fingers played nervously for a moment with the edge of the rug. Shedrew it higher up.

  "Well, when I left your house the first time this afternoon, I wentstraight back to the prince. I pointed out to him that after what hadbeen said, as it might become known that you were his guest of to-day,it would be better for him to postpone your visit. He agreed to do so."

  "Was that all that passed between you?"

  "Not quite," John replied. "He asked me what concern it was of mine, andI told him exactly what my concern was. I told him I hoped that some dayyou would be my wife."

  She sat quite still, looking down upon the flaring lights. She wasfilled with a restless desire to escape, to start the motor herself andrush through the wet air into London and safety. And side by side withthat desire she knew that there was nothing in the world she wanted somuch as to stay just where she was, and to hear just the words she wasgoing to hear.

  "So much for that!" John proceeded. "And now, please listen. I havebrought you out here because under these conditions I feel more masterof myself and my thoughts, and of the things I want to say to you.Something takes me by the throat in your little drawing-room, with itsshaded lights, its perfume of flowers, and its atmosphere of perfection.You sit enthroned there like the queen of a world I know nothing of, andall the time letters and flowers and flattering invitations are showeredupon you from the greatest men in London. The atmosphere there stiflesme, Louise. Out here you are a woman and I a man, and those other thingsfall away. I have tried my best to come a little way into sympathy withyour life. I want you now to make up your mind to come down a little wayinto mine!"

  She shook her head.

  "We are still too far apart," she murmured. "Can't you understand thatyourself?"

  "I have been a pupil for many months," he answered, turning toward her,with one arm at the back of her cushions and the fingers of the otherhand suddenly seeking hers. "Can't you understand, if you do care alittle, if you have just a little flame of love in your heart for me,that many of these other things which keep us apart are like thelime-light which flashes out to give artificial light in an honestdarkness? Don't you believe, at the bottom of your heart, that you canbe happier if you will climb with me to the place where we first met,even where the clouds lean over my own hills? You thought me very narrowthen. Perhaps I am. But I think you are beginning to understand, dear,that that life is only a type. We can wander about where you will. Myhills are only the emblems of the things that are dear to me. There aremany countries I want to visit. I don't want to cramp your life. Youcan't really be afraid of that, because it is the most widening thing inthe world that I have to give you--my love, the love of my heart and mysoul!"

  She felt the sudden snapping of every nerve in her body, the passingaway of all sense of will or resistance. She was conscious only of thelittle movement toward him, the involuntary yielding of herself. She layback in his arms, and the kisses which closed her eyes and lips seemedto be working some strange miracle.

  She was in some great empty space, breathing wonderful things. She wason the hilltops, and from the heights she looked down at herself as shehad been--a poor little white-faced puppet, strutting about anoverheated stage, in a fetid atmosphere of adulation, with a brainartificially stimulated, and a heart growing cold with selfishness. Shepitied herself as she had been. Then she opened her eyes with a start ofjoy.

  "How wonderful it all is!" she murmured. "You brought me here to tell methis?"

  "And to hear something!" he insisted.

  "I have tried not to, John," she confessed, amazed at the tremble of hersweet, low voice. Her words seemed like the confession of a weepingchild. "I cannot help it. I do love you! I have tried not to so hard,but now--now I shall not try any more!"

  They drove quietly down the long hill and through the dripping streets.Not another word passed between them till they drew up outside her door.She felt a new timidity as he handed her out, an immense gratitude forhis firm tone and intuitive tact.

  "No, I won't come in, thanks," he declared. "You have so little time torest and get ready for the theater."

  "You will be there to-night?" she asked.

  He laughed as if there were humor in the suggestion of his absence.

  "Of course!"

  He slipped in his clutch and drove off through the rain-gleaming streetswith the smile and air of a conqueror. Louise passed into her littlehouse to find a visitor waiting for her there.

 

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