Athalie

* * * * *

He wrote her from the steamer twice, the letters being mailed from

Plymouth; then he wrote once from London, once from Paris; later again

from Switzerland, where he had found it cooler, he said, than

anywhere else during that torrid summer.

[Illustration: "One lovely morning in May she arose early in order to

write to Clive."] Winifred Stuart and her mother had joined them for a motor trip

through Dalmatia. He mentioned it in a letter to Athalie, but after

that he did not refer to them again. In fact he did not write again

for a month or two.

It proved to be a scorching summer in New York. May ended in a blast

of unseasonable weather, cooling off for a week or two in June, but

the furnace heat of July was terrible for the poor and for the

horses--both of which we have always with us.

Also, for Athalie, it seemed to be turning into one of those curious,

threatening years which begin with every promise but which end without

fulfilment, and in perplexity and care. She had known such years; she

already recognised the symptoms of changing weather. She seemed to be

conscious of premonitions in everybody and everything. Little

vexations and slight disappointments increased; simple plans

miscarried for no reason at all apparently.

Like one who still feels a fair wind blowing yet looking aloft, sees

the uneasy weather-cock veer and veer in varying flaws, so she,

sensitive and fine in mind and body, gradually became aware of the

trend of things; felt the premonition of the distant change in the

atmosphere--sensed it gathering vaguely, indefinitely disquieting.

One lovely morning in May she arose early in order to write to Clive.

Then, her long letter accomplished and safely mailed, she went

downtown to business, still delicately aglow, exhilarated as always

by her hour of communion with him.

Mr. Wahlbaum, as usual, received her with the jolly and kindly humour

which always characterised him, and they had their usual friendly,

half bantering chat while she was arranging the papers which his

secretary had laid on her desk.

All the morning she took dictation; the soft wind fluttered the

curtains; sparrows chirped noisily; the sky was very blue; Mr.

Wahlbaum smoked steadily.

And when the lunch hour arrived he did a thing which he had never

before done; he asked Athalie to lunch with him.

Which so completely astonished her that she found herself going down

in the private lift with him before she realised that she was going at

all.

The luncheon proved to be very simple but very good. There were a

number of other women in the ladies' annex of the Department

Club,--nice looking people, quiet, and well dressed. Mr. Wahlbaum also

was very quiet, very considerate, very attentive, and almost gravely

courteous. Their conversation concerned business. He offered Athalie

no cocktail and no wine, but a jug of chilled cider was set at her

elbow and she found it delicious. Mr. Wahlbaum drank tea, very weak.