"She is too young to be made to suffer it," he said, half aloud. "The good God cannot ask so much, as a price for wilfulness; and if this man has grown as distasteful to her as her face seems to suggest, nothing but misery could come from their dual life." It was all very cruel to the Englishman, no doubt, but where was the wisdom of letting two people suffer? Surely it was better to let only one pay the stakes, and if this thing went on, both would have equal unhappiness, and be tied together as two animals in a menagerie cage.
No gentleman should accept such a sacrifice. If the Lord Fordyce did not realize for himself that something had changed things, it must be that he, Gaston d'Héronac, the Père Anselme, must intervene. It might be very fine and noble to stick to one's word, but it became quixotic if to do so could only bring misery to oneself and one's mate!
The good priest stalked on to his _presbytère_, and then to his church, to see that all should be ready for _réveillon_ that night, and he was returning to the château to tea when he met Henry taking a walk.
After lunch Sabine had gone off with Moravia to Girolamo's nurseries, and Lord Fordyce had felt he must go out and get some air. Mr. Cloudwater had started with Madame Imogen in the motor on a commission to their little town directly they had all left the dining-room. Thus Henry was alone.
He greeted the Père Anselme gladly. The old priest's cultivated mind was to him always a source of delight.
So he turned back and walked with him into the garden and along by the sea wall, instead of across the causeway and to the house. This was the doing of the Père Anselme, for he felt now might be his time.
Henry had been growing more and more troubled while he had been out by himself. He could not disguise the fact that there was some great change in Sabine, and now his anxious mood craved sympathy and counsel from this her great friend.
"Madame Howard does not look quite well, Father," he remarked, after they had pulled some modern philosophies to pieces, and there had been a pause. "She is so nervous--what is the cause of it, do you know? Perhaps this place does not suit her in the winter. It is so very cold."
"Yes, it is cold--but that is not the reason." And the Père Anselme drew closer his old black cloak. "There are other and stronger causes for the state in which we find the Dame Sabine."
