The Silent Barrier

“No. I haven’t. I was just as nasty as the others, and I sneered like the rest when Bower showed up a fortnight since. I was wrong, and I apologize for it. Regard me as in sackcloth and ashes. But my heart went out to you when you dropped like a log among all those staring people. I’ve – I’ve done it myself, and my case was worse than yours. Once in my life I loved a man, and I came home one day from the hunting field to read a telegram from the War Office. He was ‘missing,’ it said – missing – in a rear-guard action in Tirah. Do you know what that means?”

A cloud of smoke hid her face; but it could not stifle the sob in her voice. There was a knock at the door.

“Are you there, Edith?” demanded Reginald de la Vere.

“Yes. Go away! I’m busy.”

“But – ”

“Go away, I tell you!”

Then she jerked a scornful hand toward the door. “Six months later I was married – men who are missed among the Afridis don’t come back,” she said.

“I’m more sorry than I can put into words!” murmured Helen.

“For goodness’ sake don’t let us grow sentimental. Shall we return to our sheep? Don’t be afraid that I shall pasture the goats in the hall on your confidences. Hasn’t Bower asked you?”

“No.”

“Then his action was all the more generous. He meant to squelch that friend of yours – is she your friend?”

“She used to be,” said Helen sadly.

“And what do you mean to do about it? You will marry Bower, of course?”

Helen’s heart fluttered. Her color rose in a sudden wave. “I – I don’t think so,” she breathed.

“Don’t you? Well, I like you the better for saying so. I can picture myself putting the same questions to one of the Wragg girls – to both of ’em, in fact. I am older than you, and very much wiser in some of the world’s ways, and my advice is, Don’t marry any man unless you are sure you love him. If you do love him, you may keep him, for men are patient creatures. But that is for you to decide. I can’t help you there. I am mainly concerned, for the moment, in helping you over the ice during the next day or two – if you will let me, that is. Probably you have determined not to appear in public to-night. That will be a mistake. Wear your prettiest frock, and dine with Reggie and me. We shall invite Mr. Bower to join us, and two other people – some man and woman I can depend on to keep things going. If we laugh and kick up no end of a noise, it will not only worry the remainder of the crowd, but you score heavily off the theatrical lady. See?”

“I can see that you are acting the part of the good Samaritan,” cried Helen.

“Oh, dear, no – nothing so antiquated. Look at your future position – the avowed wife of a millionaire. Eh, what? as Georgie says.”

“But I am not anything of the kind. Mr. Bower – ”

“Mr. Bower is all right. He has the recognized history of the man who makes a good husband, and you can’t help liking him, unless – unless there is another man.”

“There, at least, I am – ” Helen hesitated. Something gripped her heart and checked the modest protestation of her freedom.

Mrs. de la Vere laughed. “If you are not sure, you are safe,” she said, with a hard ring in her utterance that belied her easygoing philosophy. “Really, you bring me back a lost decade. Now, Helen – may I call you Helen?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Well, then, don’t forget that my name is Edith. You have just half an hour to dress. I need every second of the time; so off you run to your room. As I hear Reggie flinging his boots around next door, I shall hurry him and arrange about the table. Call for me. We must go to the foyer together. Now kiss me, there’s a dear.”

Helen was wrestling with her refractory tresses – for the coiffure that suits glaciers and Tam o’Shanters is not permissible in evening dress – when a servant brought her a note.

“Dear Miss Wynton,” it ran, – “If you are able to come down to dinner, why not dine with me? Sincerely,

    ”Charles K. Spencer.”

She blushed and laughed a little. “I am in demand,” she thought, flashing a pardonable glance at her own face in the mirror. She read the brief invitation again. Spencer had a trick of printing the K in his signature. It caught her fancy. It suggested strength, trustworthiness. She did not know then that one of the shrewdest scoundrels in the Western States had already commented on certain qualities betokened by that letter in Spencer’s name.

“I cannot refuse,” she murmured. “To be candid, I don’t want to refuse. What shall I do?”

Bidding the servant wait, she twisted her hair into a coil, threw a wrap round her shoulders, and tapped on Mrs. de la Vere’s door.

“Entrez!” cried that lady.

“I am in a bit of difficulty,” said Helen. “Mr. Spencer wishes me to dine with him. Would you – ”

“Certainly. I’ll ask him to join us. Reggie will see him too. Really, Helen, this is amusing. I am beginning to suspect you.”

So Spencer received a surprising answer. He read it without any sign of the amusement Mrs. de la Vere extracted from the situation, for Helen took care to recite the whole arrangement.

“I’m going through with this,” he growled savagely, “even if I have to drink Bower’s health – damn him!”

CHAPTER XII

THE ALLIES

Seldom, if ever, has a more strangely assorted party met at dinner than that which gathered in the Hotel Kursaal under the social wing of Mrs. de la Vere. Her husband, while being coached in essentials, was the first to discover its incongruities.

“Where Miss Wynton is concerned, you are warned off,” his wife told him dryly. “You must console yourself with Mrs. Badminton-Smythe. She will stand anything to cut out a younger and prettier woman.”

“Where do you come in, Edie?” said he; for Mrs. de la Vere’s delicate aristocratic beauty seemed to be the natural complement of her sporting style, and to-night there was a wistful charm in her face that the lively Reginald had not seen there before.

She turned aside, busying herself with her toilet. “I don’t come in. I went out five years ago,” she cried, with a mocking laugh.

“Do you know,” he muttered, “I often wonder why the deuce you an’ I got married.”

“Because, sweet Reginald, we were made for each other by a wise Providence. What other woman of your acquaintance would tolerate you – as a husband?”

“Oh, dash it all! if it comes to that – ”

“For goodness’ sake, don’t fuss, or begin to think. Run away and interview the head waiter. Then you are to buttonhole Bower and the American. I am just sending a chit to the Badminton-Smythes.”

“Who is my partner?”

“Lulu, of course.”

De la Vere was puzzled, and looked it. “I suppose it is all right,” he growled. “Still, I can’t help thinking you’ve got something up your sleeve, Edie.”

She stamped a very pretty foot angrily. “Do as I tell you! Didn’t you hear what Bower said? He will be everlastingly obliged to us for coming to the rescue in this fashion. Next time you have a flutter in the city, his friendship may be useful.”

“By gad!” cried Reginald, beginning, as he fancied, to see light, “something seems to have bitten you this evening. Tell you what – Lulu is a non-runner. Get Bower to put you on to a soft thing in Africans, an’ you an’ I will have a second honeymoon in Madeira next winter. Honor bright! I mean it.”

She seized a silver mounted brush from the dressing table with the obvious intent of speeding his departure. He dodged out, and strolled down the corridor.