She glanced up at him standing there with his hands behind his back.
"Do you really think that?" she said.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, damme," he said, "I don't know what I think.
I only know I'd give everything in the world to make you happy, but the cursed trouble is I don't know how to, and you are fonder of James's fingernail than you are of me.
What's a fellow to do when his wife doesn't love him but drink and play cards? Will you tell me that?"
She stood beside him a moment, and put her hand on his shoulder.
"I shall be thirty in three weeks' time," she said. "Perhaps as I grow older, Harry, I shall grow wiser."
"I don't want you any wiser," he said sullenly, "I want you as you are."
She did not answer, and playing with her sleeve he said to her,
"Do you remember, before you came to Navron, you said some nonsense or other about feeling like that bird in your father's aviary?
I couldn't make head or tale of it, and I still can't. It sounded such gibberish, you know.
I wish I knew what you were driving at."
"Don't think about it," she said, patting his cheek, "because the linnet found its way to the sky.
And now, Harry, are you going to do what I asked you?"
"Yes, I suppose so," he said, "but I warn you, I don't like it, and I shall put up at Okehampton and wait for you.
You won't delay your journey for any reason, will you?"
"No," she said. "No, I won't delay."
And he went downstairs to make the necessary arrangements for departure, while she summoned Prue and told her of the sudden change of plans.
At once all was bustle and confusion, the strapping up of bedding and boxes, the packing of food and clothing for the journey, while the children ran about like puppies, delighted in all movement, any sort of change for the variety it gave, and
"They don't mind leaving Navron," thought Dona; "in a month's time they will be playing in Hampshire fields, and Cornwall will be forgotten. Children forget places so easily, and faces even faster."
They had cold meat at one o'clock, the children eating with herself and Harry for a treat.
Henrietta danced about the table like a fairy, white with excitement because he was to ride beside their carriage.
James sat on Dona's lap, endeavouring to put his feet up on the table, and when Dona permitted him, he looked about him with an air of triumph, and she kissed his fat cheek and held him to her.
Harry caught something of his children's excitement, and he began to tell them about Hampshire, and how they would go there in all probability, for the rest of the summer.
"You shall have a pony, Henrietta," he said, "and James too, later on," and he began to throw pieces of meat across the floor to the dogs, and the children clapped their hands and shouted. The carriage came to the door, and they were bundled inside, packages, rugs, pillows, and the baskets for the two dogs, while Harry's horse champed at his bit, and pawed the ground.
"You must make my peace with George Godolphin," said Harry, bending down to Dona, flicking his boots with his whip. "He won't understand it, you know, my tearing off in this way."
"Leave everything to me," she answered, "I shall know what to say."
"I still don't know why you won't come with us," he said, staring at her, "but we'll be waiting for you, tomorrow evening, at Okehampton.
When we pass through Heldston today I will order your chaise for the morning."
"Thank you, Harry."
He went on flicking the toe of his boot. "Stand still, will you, you brute?" he said to his horse; and then to Dona,
"I believe you've still got that damned fever on you, and you won't admit it."
"No," she said, "I have no fever."
"Your eyes are strange," he said; "they looked different to me the first moment I saw you, lying in bed there, up in your room.
The expression has changed. God damn it, I don't know what it is."
"I told you this morning," she said, "I'm getting older, and shall be thirty in three weeks' time.
It's my age you can see in my eyes."
"Damn it, it's not," he said. "Ah, well, I suppose I'm a fool and a blockhead, and will have to spend the rest of my days wondering what the hell has happened to you."
"I rather think you will, Harry," she said.
Then he waved his whip, and wheeled his horse about, and cantered away down the drive, while the carriage followed soberly, the two children smiling from the window and blowing kisses, until they turned the corner of the avenue and could see her no more.
Dona went through the empty dining-hall and into the garden.
It seemed to her that the house already had a strange, deserted appearance, as though it knew in its old bones that soon the covers would be placed upon the chairs, and the shutters drawn, and the doors bolted, and nothing would be there any longer but its own secret darkness: no sunshine, no voices, no laughter, only the quiet memories of the things that had been.
Here, beneath this tree, she had lain on her back in the sun and watched the butterflies, and Godolphin had called upon her for the first time, surprising her with her ringlets in disorder and the flowers behind her ears.
And in the woods there had been bluebells, where there were bluebells no more, and the bracken had been young which was now waist-high and darkly green.
So much loveliness, swiftly come and swiftly gone, and she knew in her heart that this was the last time of looking upon it all, and that she would never come to Navron again.
Part of her would linger there for ever: a footstep running tiptoe to the creek, the touch of her hand on a tree, the imprint of her body in the long grass. And perhaps one day, in after years, someone would wander there and listen to the silence, as she had done, and catch the whisper of the dreams that she had dreamt there, in midsummer, under the hot sun and the white sky.
Then she turned her back on the garden, and calling to the stable-boy in the courtyard she bade him catch the cob who was in the meadow, and put a saddle on him, for she was going riding.
CHAPTER XXII
When Dona came to Gweek she made straight for a little cottage almost buried in the woods, a hundred yards or so from the road, and which she knew instinctively to be the place she sought.
Passing there once before she had seen a woman at the doorway, young and pretty, and William, driving the carriage, had saluted her with his whip.