The strain of waiting for Martin day after day had told on Joan.She longed for a change of atmosphere, a change of scene.And what a joke it would be to be able to face her grandfather and grandmother without shaking in her shoes! "Of course," said Joan."Let's drive out to-day in time for dinner, and send a telegram at once.Nothing like striking while the iron's hot.Papa Geordie, tell the waiter to bring a blank, and we'll concoct a message between us.Is that all right for you, Mother?"Mrs.Harley looked rather like a woman being asked to run a quarter of a mile to catch a train, but she gave a little laugh and said, "Yes, dear.I think so, although, perhaps, to-morrow--""To-day is a much better word," said Joan.She was sick of to-morrow and to-morrow."Packing won't take any time.I'll go home directly after lunch and set things moving and be here in the car at three thirty.We can see the trees and smell the ferns and watch the sun set before we have to change for dinner.I'm dying to do that."No arguments or objections were put forward.
This impetuous young thing must have her way.
And when the car drove away from the Plaza a few minutes after the appointed time Joan was as excited as a child, Mrs.Harley quite certain that she had forgotten her sponge bag and her bedroom slippers, and George Harley betting on a time that would put more lines on his face.
There was certainly more than a touch of irony in Joan's gladness to go back so soon to the cage from which she had escaped with such eagerness.
There had been no word and no sign of Martin.
But as Joan had run upstairs Gilbert Palgrave had come out from the drawing-room and put himself deliberately in her way.
"I can't stay now, Gilbert," she had said."I'm going into the country, and I haven't half a second to spare.I'm so sorry."He had held his place."You've got to give me five minutes.You've got to," and something in his eyes had made her take hold of her impatience.
"You don't know what you're doing to me," he had said, with no sign of his usual style and self-consciousness, but simply, like a man who had sat in the dark and suffered."Or if you do know your cruelty is inhuman.I've tried to see you every day--not to talk about myself or bore you with my love, but just to look at you.
You've had me turned away as if I were a poor relation.You've sent your maid to lie to me over the telephone as if I were a West Point cadet in a primitive state of sloppy sentiment.Don't do it.It isn't fair.I hauled down my fourth wall to you, and however much you may scorn what you saw there you must respect it.Love must always be respected.It's the rarest thing on earth.I'm here to tell you that you must let me see you, just see you.I've waited for many years for this.I'm all upheaved.You've exploded me.I'm different.I'm remade.I'm beginning again.I shall ask for nothing but kindness until I've made you love me, and then I shall not have to ask.You will come to me.I can wait.That's all I want you to know.When you come back ring me up.I'll be patient."With that he had stood aside with a curious humbleness, had gripped the hand that she had given him and had gone downstairs and away.
The country round Peapack was in its first glorious flush of young beauty.The green of everything dazzled under the sun.The woods were full of the echo of fairy laughter.Wild flowers ran riot among the fields.Delicate-footed May was following on the heels of April with its slight fingers full of added glory for the earth.
There was something soft and English in the look of the trees and fields as they came nearer to the old house.They might have been driving through the kind garden of Kent.
Framed in the fine Colonial doorway stood the tall old man with his white head and fireless eyes, the little distinguished woman still charged with electricity and the two veteran dogs with their hollow barks.
