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Lord Dawlish had gone for a moonlight walk that night because,like Claire, he wished to be alone to think. He had fallen with apleasant ease and smoothness into the rather curious life lived atElizabeth Boyd's bee-farm. A liking for picnics had lingered inhim from boyhood, and existence at Flack's was one prolongedpicnic. He found that he had a natural aptitude for the moremuscular domestic duties, and his energy in this directionenchanted Nutty, who before his advent had had a monopoly of thesetasks.
Nor was this the only aspect of the situation that pleased Nutty.When he had invited Bill to the farm he had had a vague hope thatgood might come of it, but he had never dreamed that things wouldturn out as well as they promised to do, or that such a warm andimmediate friendship would spring up between his sister and theman who had diverted the family fortune into his own pocket. Billand Elizabeth were getting on splendidly. They were together allthe time--walking, golfing, attending to the numerous needs of thebees, or sitting on the porch. Nutty's imagination began to runaway with him. He seemed to smell the scent of orange-blossoms, tohear the joyous pealing of church bells--in fact, with thedifference that it was not his own wedding that he was anticipating,he had begun to take very much the same view of the future that wasabout to come to Dudley Pickering.
Elizabeth would have been startled and embarrassed if she couldhave read his thoughts, for they might have suggested to her thatshe was becoming a great deal fonder of Bill than the shortness oftheir acquaintance warranted. But though she did not fail toobserve the strangeness of her brother's manner, she traced it toanother source than the real one. Nutty had a habit of startingback and removing himself when, entering the porch, he perceivedthat Bill and his sister were already seated there. His ownimpression on such occasions was that he was behaving withconsummate tact. Elizabeth supposed that he had had some sort of aspasm.
Lord Dawlish, if he had been able to diagnose correctly the almostpaternal attitude which had become his host's normal manner thesedays, would have been equally embarrassed but less startled, forconscience had already suggested to him from time to time that hehad been guilty of a feeling toward Elizabeth warmer than anyfeeling that should come to an engaged man. Lying in bed at theend of his first week at the farm, he reviewed the progress of hisfriendship with her, and was amazed at the rapidity with which ithad grown.
He could not conceal it from himself--Elizabeth appealed to him.Being built on a large scale himself, he had always been attractedby small women. There was a smallness, a daintiness, a livelinessabout Elizabeth that was almost irresistible. She was so capable,so cheerful in spite of the fact that she was having a hard time.And then their minds seemed to blend so remarkably. There were noodd corners to be smoothed away. Never in his life had he felt sosupremely at his ease with one of the opposite sex. He lovedClaire--he drove that fact home almost angrily to himself--but hewas forced to admit that he had always been aware of something inthe nature of a barrier between them. Claire was querulous attimes, and always a little too apt to take offence. He had neverbeen able to talk to her with that easy freedom that Elizabethinvited. Talking to Elizabeth was like talking to an attractiveversion of oneself. It was a thing to be done with perfectconfidence, without any of that apprehension which Claire inspiredlest the next remark might prove the spark to cause an explosion.But Claire was the girl he loved--there must be no mistake aboutthat.
He came to the conclusion that the key to the situation was thefact that Elizabeth was American. He had read so much of theAmerican girl, her unaffectedness, her genius for easy comradeship.Well, this must be what the writer fellows meant. He had happenedupon one of those delightful friendships without any suspicion ofsex in them of which the American girl had the monopoly. Yes, thatmust be it. It was a comforting explanation. It accounted for hisfeeling at a loose end whenever he was away from Elizabeth for asmuch as half an hour. It accounted for the fact that they understoodeach other so well. It accounted for everything so satisfactorilythat he was able to get to sleep that night after all.
But next morning--for his conscience was one of those persistentconsciences--he began to have doubts again. Nothing clings like asuspicion in the mind of a conscientious young man that he hasbeen allowing his heart to stray from its proper anchorage.
Could it be that he was behaving badly toward Claire? The thoughtwas unpleasant, but he could not get rid of it. He extractedClaire's photograph from his suit-case and gazed solemnly upon it.
At first he was shocked to find that it only succeeded inconvincing him that Elizabeth was quite the most attractive girlhe ever had met. The photographer had given Claire rather a severelook. He had told her to moisten the lips with the tip of thetongue and assume a pleasant smile, with the result that sheseemed to glare. She had a rather markedly aggressive look,queenly perhaps, but not very comfortable.
But there is no species of self-hypnotism equal to that of a manwho gazes persistently at a photograph with the preconceived ideathat he is in love with the original of it. Little by little Billfound that the old feeling began to return. He persevered. By theend of a quarter of an hour he had almost succeeded in capturinganew that first fine careless rapture which, six months ago, hadcaused him to propose to Claire and walk on air when she acceptedhim.
He continued the treatment throughout the day, and by dinner-timehad arranged everything with his conscience in the most satisfactorymanner possible. He loved Claire with a passionate fervour; heliked Elizabeth very much indeed. He submitted this diagnosis toconscience, and conscience graciously approved and accepted it.
It was Sunday that day. That helped. There is nothing like Sundayin a foreign country for helping a man to sentimental thoughts ofthe girl he has left behind him elsewhere. And the fact that therewas a full moon clinched it. Bill was enabled to go for anafter-dinner stroll in a condition of almost painful loyalty to Claire.
From time to time, as he walked along the road, he took out thephotograph and did some more gazing. The last occasion on which hedid this was just as he emerged from the shadow of a large treethat stood by the roadside, and a gush of rich emotion rewardedhim.
'Claire!' he murmured.
An exclamation at his elbow caused him to look up. There, leaningover a gate, the light of the moon falling on her beautiful face,stood Claire herself!
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