The Golden Silence

btle way, he was more feverishly wretched than when Margot was near, and while planning to hurry on the marriage. He had been buoyed up with a rather youthful sense of defiance of the world, a hot d

, he did not know what to do or where to go, now that old

famous interview, copied in all the papers, he disliked meeting people he knew well

t-to throw her over now. It would look to the world as if he were a coward, and it would look to himself the same-which would be more painful in the end. So he could listen to no advice, and he wished t

ving Oxford, he had been too busy amusing himself in his own country to find time for any other, with the exception of an occasional run over to Paris. Now, if he stopp

letter came, to the flat near Albert Gate, where he had shut himself up after the sailing of Margot. The letter was post-ma

, he and Caird had been very good friends, almost inseparable during one year at Oxford. Stephen had been twenty then, and Nevill Caird about twenty-three. That would make him thirty-two now-and Stephen could hardly imagine what "Wings" would have developed int

utiful, in or near Algiers. Several years had passed since Nevill Caird's name had been mentioned in his hearing, and lately it had not even echoed in his mind; but now, the handwriting and the neat seal on this envelop

r Le

phen's skill as a runner, as well as the length o

it is, the more I shall be pleased. This country is interesting if you don't know it, and fascinating if you do. My place is rather nice, and I should like you to see it. Still better, I should like to see you. Do come if you can, and come soon. I should enjoy showing you my garden at its best. It's one of the

h pleasure it will give me if y

rs a

ird, alias

se awkward circumstances. There would have been some veiled allusion to the engagement; either silly, well-meant congratulations and good wishes, or else a stupid hint of advice to get out of a bad business while there was time. But Caird wrote as he might have written if there had been no case, a

e. But nowadays he had few invitations and scarcely any letters to write, except those of business, and an occasional line to Margot. People were willing to be neglected by him, willing to let hi

regrets, they were not as poignant as they would have been some weeks earlier. Most valets, if not all

le back, and the boat-train began to slide out of the station. It was good to be alone, to have loosed his moorings, and to be drifting away where no eyes, once kind, would turn from him, or turn on him with pity. Out there in Algiers, a town of which he had the vaguest conception, there would be people

owes, when he was keen for Scotland. Being a gregarious as well as an idle young man, he was pleased with his own popularity, and the number of his invitations for country-house visits. He could never accept more than half, but even so, he hardly saw London until January; and then, if he went abroad at all, there was only time for a f

in a blue serge dress, with no other cloak than the jacket that matched her frock. Stephen hardly noticed her at first, but as men buttoned their coats or went below, and she remained, his attention was attracted to the slim figure leaning on the rail. Her face was turned away, looking over the sea where the whirling stars dipped into dark waves that sprang to engulf them. Her elbows rested on the railing, and her chin lay in the cup of her two hands; but her hair,

lf. He was sure she must be cold in her serge jacket, and wondered why she didn't go below to the ladies' cabin. Also he wonde

rdly more than ankle length, flowed past her slender shape as the black, white-frothing waves flowed past the slim prow of the boat; and there was something individual, something distinguished in her gait and the bearing of her head on the young throat. Stephen noticed this rather interesting peculiarity, remarking it more de

ths sailed by on the wind, the girl wheeled and had the breeze at her back. It was then Stephen caught his first glimpse of her f

or such a complexion. The large eyes gave him no more than a passing glance, but they were so vivid, so full of blue light as they met his, that

s wing as it dips from sun into shadow. Of course she had not spoken; of course she had no word to give him. He had seemed to h

f colouring than anything else. The creamy complexion of a very young girl, whipped to rose and white by the sea wind; brilliant turquoise blue eyes under a glitter of wavy red hair; these were the

ture with the brilliant eyes and blowing red locks. He decided that she was a schoolgirl of sixteen, being taken over to Paris, probably to finish her education there. Her mother or guardian was no doubt prostrate with sea-sickness, careless for the moment whether the child paraded the deck insufficiently clad, or whether she fell unchaperoned into the sea. Judging by her clothes, her family was poor, and she was perhaps intended for a governess: that was why they were sending her to France. She

ncied that he saw her shivering with cold. He could not bear this, knowing that he had a rug which Molton had forced upon him to use on board ship between Marseilles and Algiers.

e of a benevolent uncle addressing a child. "I have on

girl. "I should like it, if it w

rprised, because to find that she was an American upset his theories. He had never hea

ting up and wrapping the dark soft thing round her shoulders and body, as if it had been a big shawl. Then

the ladies' cabin," said Stephen, still with t

ned the girl. "And it doesn'

ing a chill?" i

don't exist. At least they don't unl

evidently understood that he was using no arts to scrape an a

e. "Nobody ever talked to me about it. Only if you're

ourself feel them. There's something in the idea:

o be callous," she objected. "We coul

knowing that his words would have been not only stupid but obviou

at last," said the girl; and Ste

he answered. "I used

t you

lenty of time to get ti

things," she suggested. "I was thinking when I

stingly young, when our only war of my day was on

uth Af

a baby in tha

n Paris then, with my stepmother and my sister. We used to hea

you?" said Stephen, disappointed that h

n there ever since, till a few weeks ago. Oh see, there

n very soon-in a

ake my hair tidy. Thank you ever so m

e would not let him do that. "I like folded things," she said. "It's nice to see them come straight, and I enjoy it more because the wind does

cent. He had known several delightful American girls, but never one like this. She was a new type to him, and more interesting, p

ate in the ladies' cabin. By the time he had arrived at Paris he felt sleepy and dull after an aggravating doze or two on the way, and had almost forgotten the red-haired

he said to himself indignantly, and as she appeared to be having

the man to believe me when I say there's nothing in it except clothes, just the same as in the other.

her that he wo

lready," he wanted to know, "or are

le," she answered.

uld do not to blame her family audibly for allowing the chi

he cabs stood, and engaged two, one for

ady taken at an hote

," explained the girl. "But it's all right. They

n cleaned, and showed mended fingers. Stephen shook the small han

ground, especially after a night journey, the girl's face looked pearly, and Stephe

e about Paris unprotected, while night had hardly yielded to morning. But he could not offer to go with her. He was interested, as any man of flesh and blood must be interested, in the fate of an innocent and charming girl left to take care of herself, and entir

I'm sure," she answered. "Thank you for taking an interest. Will you t

ay the girl looked back, smiling at