In Alymer's room at the Middle Temple he and Hal were making their arrangements to catch the next boat.
The moment he had spoken his decision she had turned to him with a swift expression of approval, but, for the rest, her manner was somewhat curt and business-like, and showed little of the old friendliness.
It made him feel that, as far as she was concerned, he had sinned past forgiveness; and he knew with that unerring instinct that sometimes il umines a wrong action, that she judged him harshly because she knew he had not loved Lorraine with al his strength. How then could he ever hope to tell her that one reason he had not loved Lorraine thus was because, unconsciously, another woman had won his heart; further, that that other woman was herself?
No; of course the day would never dawn when he would dare to tell her that. An eternity separated them.
But he tried not to think of it now; to remember only that Lorraine, his best friend and his benefactress, was dying, and that she had sent Hal to fetch him to her side.
His face was very grave, and he looked white and ill as Hal explained what time he must meet her at the station, but he gave no sign of flinching; no triumph in the world could now weaken his resolution.
"Very wel , that is al arranged," said Hal, and at that moment there was a knock at the door. Alymer crossed the room and opened it himself, and was handed a telegram. He read it, looked for a moment as if he could not grasp it, then, tel ing the bearer there was no reply, closed the door, went back to Hal, and handed it to her without a word.
Hal read, half aloud:
"Marked change for the better. No need for haste. Come in a few days.
- Lorraine."
For some moments there was only silence, and then she looked at him with troubled, perplexed eyes, and said:
"I don't quite know what to make of it."
"Doesn't it mean that she has passed some crisis and wil live?" he suggested. "I think it must."
Hal stil looked doubtful; and at that moment there was another knock at the door.
Again Alymer opened it himself. "Lord Denton particularly wishes to see you," he was told.
"Show him in at once," he replied, and turned to tell Hal who was coming.
Flip Denton had come to inquire for more detailed news of Lorraine than he could get from her letters. He gathered from them that she was remaining away for the whole winter theatrical season, because her health was bad; but any suggestion on his part to run over to Brittany and see her was persistently negatived. Finally he had come to Alymer.
The moment he saw them he knew that something serious was wrong, and that it concerned Lorraine. But when, after learning she was very il , he asked Hal wat was the matter, and saw the scarlet blood flame into her face, he said no more.
"I was with her yesterday," she told him, "and the doctor said he feared she would not live many days. She wanted Alymer, and I came over to fetch him."
"And you are going at once?" Denton asked him, with a curious expression in his eyes.
"I have arranged to."
"Doesn't your great case come on this afternoon, or to-morrow morning?"
"Yes."
Denton's grave face did not change. "I see," he said, and turned a little aside.
Then Hal, who had the telegram in her hand, held it out to him.
"This has just come."
He read it, and his face cleared joyously.
"Why, that is splendid news - don't you think so?" And he regarded Hal with a slightly puzzled air.
"I hardly know what to think," Hal said. "Yesterday she was very ill."
"Ah, but you had to leave early," reassuringly, "and she may have been gaining strength al the afternoon, and had a very good night. What are you going to do?" looking at Alymer.
Alymer looked at Hal, and waited for her decision.
Hal only looked doubtful and troubled.
"I think you should stay for the lawsuit," Denton said, to help her.
"It is evident that Lorraine wished it, and she of al people would not have Hermon miss such a chance if possible. I understood Hal it was only likely to last two or three days. He has some clinching evidence, I think."
"That is so," Alymer answered gravely; but he stil waited to take his cue from Hal.
"You think he should stay for it?" Hal asked Lord Denton.
"I certainly think that is what Lorraine would wish him to do."
"Very wel ."
Hal commenced to pul on her gloves as if there were no more to say, and then Denton asked her:
"Wil you wait too?"
"No; I am going back by the next boat."
"I will come with you."
She glanced at him with slight alarm, and then at Alymer. Denton saw the look and seemed surprised. Hal's eyes asked Alymer what they were to do. He spoke with an effort.
"I expect Miss Vivian would be glad to see so old an great a friend as Lord Denton."
"Of course she would," he said decidedly - and to Hal:
"What time do we leave Charing Cross?"
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. .
Hal spoke very little on the journey. A nameless dread weighed on her spirit, and a haunting fear for Lorraine. She was oppressed by a sense of deep sadness for the bril iant, succesful woman she had loved since her school days, who was now, after al her triumphs, alone in that little foreign vil age, caught in a maze of tangles and perplexities which offered no peaceful solution.
She could not understand Alymer's part at all, but she was convinced Lorraine's absorbing devotion to him was not reciprocated in like manner. If Lorraine learnt this as soon as she recovered, what did the future hold for her again but more vain dreams, and bitter hopes that could never see fulfilment?
She felt a little pitifully that life was very hard and difficult, even when one had a fine courage and will to face it; and a leaden pal of sorrow seemed to fold itself round her.
What of Dudley and his hopeless love? Ethel and her inconsolable grief? Sir Edwin, and his secret bitterness? the gaunt music-teacher and her barren, joyless life?
Across her mind passed some lines, that had a strong attraction for her:
"_So manny gods, so many creeds,
so many paths that wind and wind,
And just the art of being kind
Is al the sad world needs._"
Ah! in truth it was a sad world first of al ; a sad, sad world in need of kindness and comfort. One could but go on trying to be kind, trying to be strong.
It was the only thing in a life of pitfalls and easily made mistakes, to just march straight forward - eyes front - and not let anything daunt permanently. She felt, more profoundly than ever, it was not wise to turn aside, looking to right and left, questioning overmuch of right and wrong, probing into the actions of others.
Each human being was as a soldier in a vast army, and al were there under the same colours, led by the same general, to bear, with what courage they could, the fortunes of war. Two might be standing together, and one be wounded and the other untouched; many disabled, and many unhurt; some left on the field to die, others found and nursed back to life.
But the soldier was not there to question. If a comrade fel , it was no concern of his how he fel - his concern was to try and help him to safety, then go back and fight again, undismayed if his place was but a little insignificant one in the smoke and dust, unseen by any but a near neighbour perhaps as insignificant as himself.
That was the true spirit of the great soldier, whether he was in the ranks, lost in the smoke, or whether, on a magnificent charger, he led gloriously for al the world to see.
She remembered the change in Dudley, which had led him so quickly to respond to her cry, and refrain from judging. He was seeing things in that light also, learning to fight his own fight as pluckily as he could, and only to look upon the warfare of others as one ready to help them if it chanced that he was able - learning in place of rules and precepts, "just the art of being kind."
Well, together perhaps they could help Lorraine - if she came out of this last encounter bruised and broken.
Then they arrived, and she and Lord Denton hastened down the short road to the little green-shuttered house. At the sound of the latch on the gate the door opened quietly, and Jean, with tears streaming down her face, came towards them, choking back gasping sobs.
Hal stood stil a second, and then ran forward blindly with outstretched hands.
"She is better, Jean - say she is better. Oh, she must be, she must; she wired yesterday to say there was great improveent."
Jean broke down into helpless weeping as she sobbed out:
"She died this morning at six o'clock."
For one moment Hal seemed too stunned to understand; then she swayed, and fell heavily into Denton's arms.
Later when she had recovered, Jean told them of the restless, nerve-racking night; of the priest's visit, and of the fast-ebbing strength gathered together to write some message the nurse had taken to the post office. After that extreme exhaustion had set in, greatly aggravated by the mental stress, and they could only watch her sinking from hour to hour.
"She only roused once more," Jean said, "and that was to try and write a message for you. I have it there," and she produced a little folded note.
In faint, tremulous words Hal read:
"Good-bye, darling Hal. It is hard to be without you now, but you wil inderstand why I sent the message. I want to tell you it has never been Alymer's fault; do not blame him. I ask it of you. At the last hour I have made what reparation I could. Don't grieve for me. I have made so many mistakes, and now I am too tired to go on. Give my dear, dear love to Alymer, and say good-bye to Flip and mother. I am not unhappy now - only very, very tired.
Your own
Lorry."
For the first time since she had recovered from her faint, Hal broke down, and Jean and Denton went quietly away, knowing it would be better for her afterwards, and left her sobbing her heart out over her letter.
Two days later, flying the colours of a great victory, and flushed with the pleasure of warm congratulations poured upon him from all sides, Alymer Hermon stepped out upon the little station.
He had never doubted the truth of the message, and he carried his head a little higher and his shoulders a little squarer, proud and glad to come to Lorraine with the news of his greatest success, and tell her of the proud position he had won almost solely through her. For had she not first imbued him with ambition and the real desire to achieve, and then, at exactly the right moment, procured him the first little success that meant so much?
The instant he knew the great case was won, he had dashed out of the court, scribbled her a hurried wire, and driven frantical y to Charing Cross, meditating a special train to Dover, if he were too late. He was not, though the guard was just about to give the signal for departure, and the boat-train bore him from the station, full of that glad consciousness of a great achievement, to carry the news instantly to her feet.
On the little station in Brittany Denton was waiting for him. And when Alymer saw him the light faded out of his eyes, and the smile from his lips.
"She died before we got there," Denton told him. "We daren't let you know, because she sent that message, on purpose to give you your chance in the case."" Then, very kindly: "Sit down, old chap. There's no hurry. Wait and rest a while here."
Alymer sat down on the little wooden station bench, and buried his face in his hands.