"Which you have found successful?"
"Which I have found successful. Thank you for my supper. Good night."
"Good night."
This time the Frenchman did not touch her hand, but went out through the window, without looking back, and she watched him disappear amongst the trees, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat.
CHAPTER VIII
The air was stifling inside the house, and because of his lady's condition Lord Godolphin had commanded that the windows should be shut, and the curtains drawn across them to screen her from the sun. The brightness of midsummer would fatigue her, the soft air might bring a greater pallor to her already languid cheeks. But lying on the sofa, backed with cushions, exchanging small civilities with her friends, the half-darkened room humming with heavy chatter and the warm smell of humanity eating crumbling cake - that could tire nobody. It was both Lord Godolphin's and his lady's idea of relaxation.
"Never again," thought Dona, "never again will I be persuaded forth, whether for Harry's or for conscience's sake, to meet my neighbours," and bending down, feigning an interest in a little lap-dog crouching at her gown, she gave him the damp chunk of cake forced upon her by Godolphin himself. Out of the tail of her eye she saw that her action had been observed, and horror upon horror, here was her host bearing down upon her once again, a fresh assortment in his hands, and she must smile her false, brilliant smile, and bow her thanks and place yet another dripping morsel between her reluctant lips.
"If you could only persuade Harry to forsake the pleasures of the Town," observed Godolphin, "we could have many of these small informal gatherings. With my wife in her present state, a large assembly would be prejudicial to her health, but a few friends, such as we have today, can do her nothing but good. I greatly regret that Harry is not here." He looked about him, satisfied with his hospitality, and Dona, drooping upon her chair, counted once again the fifteen or sixteen persons in the room, who, weary of each other's company over too great a span of years, watched her with apathetic interest. The ladies observed her gown, the new long gloves she played with on her lap, and the hat with the sweeping feather that concealed her right cheek. The men stared dumbly, as though in the front seats at a playhouse, and one or two, with heavy jovial humour, questioned her about the life at Court, and the pleasures of the King, as though the very fact of her coming from London gave her full knowledge of his life and of his habits. She hated gossip for gossip's sake, and though she might have told them much, had she the mind, of the froth and frivolity from which she had escaped, the artificial painted London, the link-boys with their flares tiptoeing through the dusty cobbled streets, the swaggering gallants standing at the doors of the taverns laughing a little too loudly and singing over-much, that roystering, rather tipsy atmosphere presided over by someone with a brain he would not use, a dark roving eye and a sardonic smile, she kept silent, saying instead how much she loved the country. "It is a great pity that Navron is so isolated," said somebody, "you must find it wretchedly lonely after town. If only we were all a little nearer to you, we could meet more often."
"How kind of you," said Dona. "Harry would greatly appreciate the thought. But, alas, the road is exceedingly bad to Navron. I had great difficulty in coming here today. And then, you see, I am a most devoted mother. My children absorb nearly all my time."
She smiled upon the company, her eyes large and very innocent, and even as she spoke there came a sudden vision to her mind of the boat that would be waiting for her at Gweek, the fishing-lines coiled on the bottom boards, and the man who would be idling there, with coat thrown aside, and sleeves rolled up above the elbows.
"I consider you show remarkable courage," sighed her ladyship, "in living there all alone, and your husband absent. I find I become uneasy if mine is away for a few hours in the daytime."
"That is perhaps excusable, under the circumstances," murmured Dona, quelling an insane desire to laugh, to say something monstrous, for the thought of Lady Godolphin languishing here upon her sofa, and aching for her lord, with that distressing growth upon his nose so wretchedly conspicuous, moved her to wickedness.
"You are, I trust, amply protected at Navron," said Godolphin, turning to her, solemnly. "There is much licence and lawlessness abroad these days. You have servants you can trust?"
"Implicitly."
"It is as well. Had it been otherwise I should have presumed upon my old friendship with Harry, and sent you two or three of my own people."
"I assure you it would be entirely unnecessary."
"So you may think. Some of us believe differently."