For a s.p.a.ce he stood listening, his face drawn into deep lines, his hands hard clenched. Then at length with a bitter gesture he flung himself down at the table.
He was still sitting motionless a quarter of an hour later, the food untouched before him, when the intervening door opened suddenly and silently, and like a swooping bird Sylvia came swiftly behind him and laid her two hands on his shoulders.
"Partner dear, I"ve been a big idiot. Will you forgive me?" she said.
Her voice was tremulous. It still held a sound of tears. She tried to keep out of his sight as he turned in his chair.
"Don"t--don"t stare at me!" she said, and slipped coaxing arms that trembled round his neck, locking her hands tightly in front of him.
"You hurt me a bit--though I don"t think you meant to. And now I"ve hurt you--quite a lot. I didn"t mean it either, partner. So let"s cry quits! I"ve forgiven you. Will you try to forgive me?"
He sat quite still for a few seconds, and in the silence shyly she laid her cheek down against the back of his head. He moved then, and very gently clasped the trembling hands that bound him. But still he did not speak.
"Say it"s all right!" she urged softly. "Say you"re not cross or--or anything!"
"I"m not," said Burke very firmly.
"And don"t--don"t ever think I want to play with you!" she pursued, a catch in her voice. "That"s not me, partner. I"m sorry I"m so very unsatisfactory. But--anyhow that"s not the reason."
"I know the reason," said Burke quietly.
"You don"t," she rejoined instantly. "But never mind that now!
You don"t know anything whatever about me, partner. I can"t say I even know myself very intimately just now. I feel as if--as if I"ve been blindfolded, and I can"t see anything at all just yet.
So will you try to be patient with me? Will you--will you--go on being a pal to me till the bandage comes off again? I--want a pal--rather badly, partner."
Her pleading voice came m.u.f.fled against him. She was clinging to him very tightly. He could feel her fingers straining upon each other. He stroked them gently.
"All right, little girl. All right," he said.
His tone must have rea.s.sured her, for she slipped round and knelt beside him. "I"d like you to kiss me," she said, and lifted a pale face and tear-bright eyes to his,
He took her head between his hands, and she saw that he was moved.
He bent in silence, and would have kissed her brow, but she raised her lips instead. And shyly she returned his kiss.
"You"re so--good to me," she said, in a whisper. "Thank you--so much."
He said no word in answer. Mutely he let her go.
CHAPTER VII
THE GUEST
When Sylvia met her husband again, it was as if they had never been parted or any cloud arisen to disturb the old frank comradeship.
They breakfasted at daybreak before riding out over the lands, and their greeting was of the most commonplace description. Later, as they rode together across the barren _veldt_, Burke told her a little of his finding of Guy at Brennerstadt. He did not dwell upon any details, but by much that he left unsaid Sylvia gathered that the task had not been easy.
"He knows about--me?" she ventured presently, with hesitation.
"Yes," Burke said.
"Was he--surprised?" she asked.
"No. He knew long ago."
She asked no more. It had been difficult enough to ask so much.
And she would soon see Guy for herself. She would not admit even to her own secret soul how greatly she was dreading that meeting now that it was so near.
Perhaps Burke divined something of her feeling in the matter, however, for at the end of a prolonged silence he said, "I thought I would fetch him over to lunch,--unless you prefer to ride round that way first."
"Oh, thank you," she said. "That is good of you."
As they reached the bungalow, she turned to him with a sudden question. "Burke, you didn"t--really--cut your chin so badly shaving. Did you?"
She met the swift flash of his eyes without trepidation, refusing to be intimidated by the obvious fact that the question was unwelcome.
"Did you?" she repeated with insistence. He uttered a brief laugh.
"All right, I didn"t. And that"s all there is to it."
"Thank you, partner," she returned with spirit, and changed the subject. But her heart had given a little throb of dismay within her. Full well she knew the reason of his reticence.
They parted before the _stoep_, he leading her animal away, she going within to attend to the many duties of her household.
She filled her thoughts with these resolutely during the morning, but in spite of this it was the longest morning she had ever known.
She was at length restlessly superintending the laying of lunch when Joe hurried in with the news that a _baas_ was waiting on the _stoep_ round the corner to see her. The news startled her. She had heard no sounds of arrival, nor had Burke returned. For a few moments she was conscious of a longing to escape that was almost beyond her, control, then with a sharp effort she commanded herself and went out.
Turning the corner of the bungalow, she came upon him very suddenly, standing upright against one of the pillar-supports, awaiting her. He was alone, and a little throb of thankfulness went through her that this was so. She knew in that moment that she could not have borne to meet him for the first time in Burke"s presence.
She was trembling as she went forward, but the instant their hands met her agitation fell away from her, for she suddenly realized that he was trembling also.
No conventional words came to her lips. How could she ever be conventional with Guy? And it was Guy--Guy in the flesh--who stood before her, so little altered in appearance from the Guy she had known five years before that the thought flashed through her mind that he looked only as if he had come through a sharp illness. She had expected far worse, though she realized now what Burke had meant when he had said that whatever resemblance had once existed between them, they were now no longer alike. He had not developed as she had expected. In Burke, she seemed to see the promise of Guy"s youth. But Guy himself had not fulfilled that promise. He had degenerated. He had proved himself a failure. And yet he did not look coa.r.s.ened or hardened by vice. He only looked, to her pitiful, inexperienced eyes, as if he had been ravaged by some sickness, as if he had suffered intensely and were doomed to suffer as long as he lived.
That was the first impression she received of him, and it was that that made her clasp his hand in both her own and hold it fast.
"Oh, Guy!" she said. "How ill you look!"
His fingers closed hard upon hers. He did not attempt to meet her earnest gaze. "So you got married to Burke!" he said, ignoring her exclamation. "It was the best thing you could do. He may not be exactly showy, but he"s respectable. I wonder you want to speak to me after the way I let you down."
The words were cool, almost casual; yet his hand still held hers in a quivering grasp. There was something in that grasp that seemed to plead for understanding. He flashed her a swift look from eyes that burned with a fitful, feverish fire out of deep hollows. How well she remembered his eyes! But they had never before looked at her thus. With every moment that pa.s.sed she realized that the change in him was greater than that first glance had revealed.
"Of course I want to speak to you!" she said gently. "I forgave you long ago--as, I hope, you have forgiven me."
"I!" he said. "My dear girl, be serious!"
Somehow his tone pierced her. There was an oddly husky quality in his voice that seemed to veil emotion. The tears sprang to her eyes before she was aware.