Americans -- England -- Fiction; Brothers -- Fiction; Love stories
"You are tired, Lady Carfax," Lucas murmured, when at length she found
her way to the seat beside him that he had been reserving for her.
"A little," she admitted.
And then suddenly the impulse to tell him the primary cause of her
trouble came upon her irresistibly. She leaned towards him and spoke
under cover of the orchestra.
"Mr. Errol, I have had news of--my husband. He wants to come home. No, he
is not well yet, but decidedly better, well enough to be at liberty in
the charge of an attendant. And so--and so--"
The whispered words failed. She became silent, waiting for the steady
sympathy for which she knew she would never wait in vain.
But he did not speak at once. It almost seemed as if he were at a loss.
It almost seemed as if he realised too fully for speech that leaden
weight of despair which had for a space so terribly overwhelmed her.
And then at last his voice came to her, slow and gentle, yet with a vital
note in it that was like a bugle-call to her tired spirit. "Stick to it,
Lady Carfax! You'll win out. You're through the worst already."
Desperately, as one half-ashamed, she answered him. "I wish with all my
heart I could think so. But--I am still asking myself if--if there is no
way of escape."
He turned his head in the dim light and looked at her, and shame stabbed
her deeper still. Yet she would not recall the words. It was better that
he should know, better that he should not deem her any greater or
worthier than she was.
Then, "Thank you for telling me," he said very simply. "But you'll win
out all the same. I have always known that you were on the winning side."
The words touched her in a fashion not wholly accountable. Her eyes
filled with sudden tears.
"What makes you have such faith in me?" she said.
The light was too dim for her so see his face, but she knew that he was
smiling as he made reply.
"That's just one of the things I can't explain," he said. "But I think
God made you for a spar for drowning men to cling to."
She smiled with him in spite of the tears. "May the spar never fail
you!" she said.
"I am not afraid," he answered very steadily.
CHAPTER IX
THE BOON
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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