Many precious minutes were lost while he tarried,unable to tear himself away.Phyllis held to her resolve,though it cost her many a bitter pang.At last they parted,and he went down the hill.Before his footsteps had quite died away she felt a desire to behold at least his outline once more,and running noiselessly after him regained view of his diminishing figure.For one moment she was sufficiently excited to be on the point of rushing forward and linking her fate with his.But she could not.The courage which at the critical instant failed Cleopatra of Egypt could scarcely be expected of Phyllis Grove.
A dark shape,similar to his own,joined him in the highway.It was Christoph,his friend.She could see no more;they had hastened on in the direction of the town and harbour,four miles ahead.With a feeling akin to despair she turned and slowly pursued her way homeward.
Tattoo sounded in the camp;but there was no camp for her now.It was as dead as the camp of the Assyrians after the passage of the Destroying Angel.
She noiselessly entered the house,seeing nobody,and went to bed.
Grief,which kept her awake at first,ultimately wrapped her in a heavy sleep.The next morning her father met her at the foot of the stairs.
'Mr.Gould is come!'he said triumphantly.
Humphrey was staying at the inn,and had already called to inquire for her.He had brought her a present of a very handsome looking-glass in a frame of repousse silverwork,which her father held in his hand.He had promised to call again in the course of an hour,to ask Phyllis to walk with him.
Pretty mirrors were rarer in country-houses at that day than they are now,and the one before her won Phyllis's admiration.She looked into it,saw how heavy her eyes were,and endeavoured to brighten them.She was in that wretched state of mind which leads a woman to move mechanically onward in what she conceives to be her allotted path.Mr.Humphrey had,in his undemonstrative way,been adhering all along to the old understanding;it was for her to do the same,and to say not a word of her own lapse.She put on her bonnet and tippet,and when he arrived at the hour named she was at the door awaiting him.
CHAPTER V
Phyllis thanked him for his beautiful gift;but the talking was soon entirely on Humphrey's side as they walked along.He told her of the latest movements of the world of fashion--a subject which she willingly discussed to the exclusion of anything more personal--and his measured language helped to still her disquieted heart and brain.
Had not her own sadness been what it was she must have observed his embarrassment.At last he abruptly changed the subject.
'I am glad you are pleased with my little present,'he said.'The truth is that I brought it to propitiate 'ee,and to get you to help me out of a mighty difficulty.'
It was inconceivable to Phyllis that this independent bachelor--whom she admired in some respects--could have a difficulty.
'Phyllis--I'll tell you my secret at once;for I have a monstrous secret to confide before I can ask your counsel.The case is,then,that I am married:yes,I have privately married a dear young belle;and if you knew her,and I hope you will,you would say everything in her praise.But she is not quite the one that my father would have chose for me--you know the paternal idea as well as I--and I have kept it secret.There will be a terrible noise,no doubt;but Ithink that with your help I may get over it.If you would only do me this good turn--when I have told my father,I mean--say that you never could have married me,you know,or something of that sort--'pon my life it will help to smooth the way vastly.I am so anxious to win him round to my point of view,and not to cause any estrangement.'
What Phyllis replied she scarcely knew,or how she counselled him as to his unexpected situation.Yet the relief that his announcement brought her was perceptible.To have confided her trouble in return was what her aching heart longed to do;and had Humphrey been a woman she would instantly have poured out her tale.But to him she feared to confess;and there was a real reason for silence,till a sufficient time had elapsed to allow her lover and his comrade to get out of harm's way.
As soon as she reached home again she sought a solitary place,and spent the time in half regretting that she had not gone away,and in dreaming over the meetings with Matthaus Tina from their beginning to their end.In his own country,amongst his own countrywomen,he would possibly soon forget her,even to her very name.
Her listlessness was such that she did not go out of the house for several days.There came a morning which broke in fog and mist,behind which the dawn could be discerned in greenish grey;and the outlines of the tents,and the rows of horses at the ropes.The smoke from the canteen fires drooped heavily.
The spot at the bottom of the garden where she had been accustomed to climb the wall to meet Matthaus,was the only inch of English ground in which she took any interest;and in spite of the disagreeable haze prevailing she walked out there till she reached the well-known corner.Every blade of grass was weighted with little liquid globes,and slugs and snails had crept out upon the plots.She could hear the usual faint noises from the camp,and in the other direction the trot of farmers on the road to the town,for it was market-day.She observed that her frequent visits to this corner had quite trodden down the grass in the angle of the wall,and left marks of garden soil on the stepping-stones by which she had mounted to look over the top.Seldom having gone there till dusk,she had not considered that her traces might be visible by day.Perhaps it was these which had revealed her trysts to her father.
