HE intervention which a few seconds later abruptly terminated an emotional crisis was in itself a very commonplace one. Monsieur the proprietor deemed the moment advisable for solving a question which was beginning to distract his better half in the kitchen. He advanced towards them, all smiles and bows and gestures.
"Monsieur would pardon his inquiring—would Monsieur and the ladies be taking dejeuner? A fowl of excellence unusual was then being roasted, the salad—Monsieur could see it growing! And Madame had thought of an omelet! There was no cooler place in all France on a day of heat so extraordinary as the table under the trees yonder. And as for strawberries—well, Monsieur could see them grow for himself! or if it was fraises de Bois that Madame preferred, the children had brought in baskets full only that morning, fresh and juicy, and of a wonderful size."
Wrayson interrupted him at last.
"Let luncheon be served as you suggest," he directed. "In the meantime——"
Monsieur Jules understood and withdrew with more bows and smiles. The significance of his brief appearance upon the lawn was a thing of which he had not the least idea. Yet after his departure, the strain to a certain extent had passed away. Only Madame de Melbain's eyes seemed scarcely to leave the face of the man who stood still by her chair.
"Alive!" she murmured, grasping his hand in hers. "You alive!"
Louise had taken his other hand. He was imprisoned between the two.
"Yes!" he said, "I made what they called a wonderful recovery. I suppose it was almost a miracle."
"But your death," Louise declared, "was never contradicted."
"A good deal of news went astray about that time," he remarked grimly. "I was left, and forgotten. When I found what had been done, I let it go. It seemed to me to be better. I went up to Rhodesia, and of course I had the devil's luck. I've come back to Europe simply because I couldn't stand it any longer. I was not coming to England, and I had no idea of seeing you, Emilie! I travelled here on a little pilgrimage."
"It was fate," she murmured.
"But since I am here," he continued, "and since we have met again, I must ask you this. Your husband is trying to divorce you?"
"Yes!" she murmured.
"And why?"
"Because he is a brute," she answered quietly. "We have been separated for more than a year. I think that he wants to marry again."
"And you permit this?" he asked.
"No!" she answered, "I contest it. Up to now, the courts have been in my favour."
"Up to now! They must always be in your favour!" he declared vehemently. "What can they say against a saint like you?"
She smiled up at him tenderly, a little wistfully.
"They would say a good deal," she whispered, "if they could see you here now."
He drew abruptly away.
"I am a thoughtless brute," he declared. "It was for that that I decided to remain dead. I will go away at once."
Her fingers closed over his. She drew him a little nearer with glad recklessness.
"You shall not," she murmured. "It is worth a little risk, this."
Wrayson touched Louise on the arm and they turned away. He found her a seat in a quiet corner of the fruit garden, where a tall row of hollyhocks shielded them from observation. She was very white, and in a semi-hysterical state.
"I can't believe," she said, "that that is really Duncan—Duncan himself. It is too wonderful!"
"There is no doubt about it being your brother," he answered. "What I don't quite understand is why he has kept away so long."
"It is because of her," she answered. "If they had been on the same continent, I believe that nothing could have kept them apart!"
"And now?" he asked.
"I cannot tell," she answered, "I, nor any one else! God made them for one another, I am very sure!"
He took her hand and held it tightly in his.
"And you for me, dearest," he whispered. "Shall I tell you why I am sure of it?"
She leaned back with half-closed eyes. Endurance has its limits, and the mesmeric influence of the drowsy summer day was in her veins.
"If you like," she murmured, simply....