Man and Maid

I had begun to lose some of my joy.----I wished she had been here to

share it with me.---

* * * * *

I have walked up and down--up and down. It is four o'clock now, and she

has not returned. No doubt her mother is ill, perhaps,--perhaps-

Midnight: I have spent a beastly day. My exhilaration has all evaporated now. I

have had no one to share it with me. Maurice and everyone is leaving me

discreetly alone, knowing I am supposed to be on my

honeymoon--Honeymoon!

I spent the afternoon waiting, waiting. And after tea when Alathea had

not arrived I began taking longer turns, walking up and down the broad

corridor, and at last I paused outside her room, and a desire came over

me to look in on it, and see how she had arranged it.

There was silence. I listened a moment, then I opened the door.

The fire was not lit, it all seemed cold and cheerless. I turned on the

light.

Except for the tortoise-shell and gold brushes and boxes I had had put

on the dressing table for her, there was not an indication that anyone

stayed there, none of the usual things women have about in their rooms.

One could see she looked upon it just as an hotel, and not a permanent

abode. There were no photographs of her family, no books of her own,

nothing.

Only the bracelets were on the table still in their case, and on looking

nearer, I saw there was a bottle of scent. It had no label, and when I

opened it I smelled the exquisite perfume of fresh roses that she uses.

Where does she get it? It is the purest I have ever smelt in my life.

I looked at the quaint little fourpost bed that I had found in that shop

at Bath, a perfect specimen of its date, about 1699, with the old deep

rose silk pressed over the shell carving.

I had an insane desire to open the drawers in the chest and touch her

stockings and gloves. I had a wild feeling altogether I wanted my love,

rebellious, unrelenting, anyhow! I just longed for her.

I resisted my stupidities and made myself leave the room, and then tried

to feel joy again in my leg.

Burton was turning on the lamps when I got back to the salon.

"There are rumours that something is going to happen, Sir

Nicholas,--talk of an Armistice I heard when I was out. Do you think

Foch will do it?"

But I know all these rumours and talks, we have heard them before, so

this did not affect me. I could feel nothing, as time went on, but a

passionate ache. Why, why must she be so cruel to me? Why does she leave

me all alone?