Chapter XIX: ’mid Snow and Sunshine

After breakfast next morning, while Darville was busy writing in his room, Carina, as he now called her, knocked and entered.

She crossed to where he sat at his table and, bending, kissed him fondly.

He turned and saw that she was wearing one of her smart ski-ing costumes, a dark blue coat and breeches, with scarlet tam-o’-shanter, stockings, gloves, and scarf to match. Her merry face, with its dark fringe of shingled hair beneath her jauntily-set cap, gave her an almost rakish appearance.

“I’m going out for a run with the Bayntons and Mr. Younger. Do you mind?” she asked.

“Certainly not, darling,” he replied. “But be careful. The snow is not very good to-day.”

Slowly her arms crept round her lover’s neck, and, as she stood behind his chair, she said:

“Before I go, dearest, I want to tell you how sorry I am about yesterday. Do tell me you are not annoyed or jealous.”

“Not of Karl,” was his prompt reply. “I want you to have a good time, darling, and, as he is younger than myself, he can take you ski-ing on Boxing Day.”

“Perhaps he’ll take me climbing. He is an expert, and I want so much to go up the north side of the Männlichen.”

He shook his head, saying: “I’ve heard that it is a difficult ascent in winter.”

“But do let me try, Seti. May I ring up Karl and ask what he thinks?”

Darville hesitated. She seemed somehow to be already on very good terms with his young Swiss friend, he thought, recollecting the curious way in which they had disappeared on the previous afternoon.

“Darling, I do not wish to stand in the way of any of your little pleasures. Do what you wish, only be discreet in everything. That’s all!”

“You’re a dear old Seti!” the girl cried joyfully, as she again kissed him fondly.

“Now I’ll leave you to your work,” she said. “But mind you make time to go out for a walk with me after lunch.”

And she left him.

When she had gone he rose in agitation, and, crossing to the window, looked out upon the snow-clad landscape, with its gorgeous background of gigantic mountains. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was blue and cloudless, and through the open window came the merry shouts of young people enjoying themselves on the skating rink, and the strains of the orchestra upon the ice. As he gazed forth he wondered whether he had done right in inviting Karl for a day or two. He had done it entirely in Edris’s interest, so that she might have a companion of her own age, and when he reflected, he at last laughed his own misgivings to scorn.

He knew full well the great love she entertained for him--an affection as deep as his own. It would be humanly impossible for Karl Weiss, his friend, to steal her heart.

So he reseated himself, and resumed his work. Till noon he wrote incessantly, and then, putting on his Fair Isle jersey and heavy ski-boots, he went forth to the front of the hotel and smoked a cigarette on the terrace.

Presently, with a bevy of girls and three or four young men, all on skis, Edris returned flushed and laughing, declaring that they had enjoyed a heavenly run. She lived the whole year round for winter sports and her annual visit to the snowy Alpine slopes, and, as she sat with him at lunch, she described all that they had done.

“I’ve telephoned to Karl,” she said presently. “And he is bringing up his rucksack and climbing-boots. You’ll let me go, Seti, won’t you?” she asked in a low, wheedling voice.

“If you wish, Carina,” he said, though he now deeply regretted that he had invited the young fellow. “Only take care. You must have John, the guide, with you.”

“Is that really necessary? Karl says it is quite an easy climb, and he knows the way quite well.”

Her words struck him that they wished to go alone.

“No,” he said; “you must have a guide. You are in my charge, and if anything happened the General and your mother would never forgive me. You know how they hate you to run risks in climbing.”

“Well,” she replied with a pretty pout, “I really think John quite unnecessary, and I know that Karl does. But, of course, darling, it is for you to decide,” she added smiling.

He looked into her trusting eyes, wondering deeply, yet loving her passionately, and determined that she should have a good time while on her winter holiday. Her days were, he knew, very dull in Leicestershire, and he decided that, of all the women he had met, he had least cause to distrust her.

Karl was a Swiss--tall, upright and strong--though he knew that he was one of those irresponsible young men who dangled after women, and who was by no means straight as far as affection was concerned. He recollected that secret report which had passed before his eyes in London. Yet when he reflected, he felt that no man, being a friend, would betray him. He gauged Karl by his own standard of honesty and of loyalty towards a friend.

So again he dismissed his suspicions, and, after lunch, Edris came to his room, as was her habit, and, in the deep arm-chair, enjoyed one of those “Blue Point” cigarettes which every winter sports lover knows so well.

Later, they strolled out together through the little wood outside the town. Snow lay everywhere, and all the seats were covered to a depth of six inches or more. Darville cleared one with his steel-pointed stick, and they sat down in the silence to chat.

“To-morrow we are sure to have great fun,” he said. “We always have a gay Christmas here, when I, on behalf of the proprietor, have to wish everybody a merry Christmas. It has become quite an institution.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “There is always howling and comic remarks when the _maître d’hôtel_ strikes the big gong for silence. And then the fancy-dress ball afterwards. I’ve brought my chicken costume. You saw it in London--all yellow feathers.”

“That’s splendid! I’ve got my Swiss yodeler’s velvet coat trimmed with red and silver, and the yodeler’s cap, the same as worn by the Yodelers’ Club in Interlaken.”

As they sat upon the seat, he in his winter sports kit, with the jazz pattern jersey, breeches, and dark blue peaked ski-cap with the badge of the Swiss Alpine Club--that great international organization which keeps up the huts and refuges upon the mountains--and she in her neat ski-ing costume of navy blue and scarlet, they held each other’s hands, as lovers do.

Suddenly he said to her:

“Carina, I want to speak to you, here in this lovely Swiss loneliness that we both love so well. I want to be quite frank with you. I know I’m very foolish. But I--I’m terribly hurt!”

“Hurt, my darling! Whatever do you mean?” she cried in genuine surprise.

“Well, I know that I ought not to mar your fun, because you are here to enjoy yourself, and, further, I promised you, when we agreed to love each other, that I would never be a wet blanket, and yet----”

“Yet, what?” she asked, gripping his hand. “What is worrying you, Seti darling? Tell me.”

He looked straight into her gray eyes, and in a deep, intense voice said:

“I fear that Karl Weiss is coming into your life, Carina!” And with trembling hands he gripped her wrist as he spoke, and his hard, determined face was close to hers. “I always have an uncanny premonition of danger in whatever concerns myself. Hitherto, I have felt it when--well, no matter--when I’ve been in danger. And I have it now. But--but can I blame you?” he asked, his voice choked by emotion. “You, my darling, are young--his age--and--and----”

“My darling Seton!” she cried, throwing her arms about his neck and kissing him passionately, for there was no one there to see. “How very foolish of you! You surely do not think that I, loving you as I do, and having promised to marry you, could ever betray you! Why, it is inconceivable.”

“Yes, I know,” he said next moment, with a sigh. “Forgive me, darling. But, though I want you to have a good time and enjoy yourself, you must not play with fire. I somehow--how, I cannot describe--feel that you are slowly slipping away from me, that our love is not staple--that you--that you prefer a younger man, and that Karl, being Swiss, is your ideal.” And he choked down a sob.

“How very ridiculous!” cried the girl, her hand tightening on his. “Have I not told you a hundred times that no man shall ever come between us? I swear it! I am yours, my beloved. You give me permission to enjoy myself, and that if I have a mild flirtation you will forgive me, eh?”

“Why, certainly, darling. In life it is always give and take, if we are both to be happy. But always be discreet, my beloved. Remember that, whatever blandishments you have from other men, you are mine--and only mine,” he added, a fierce passion showing in his eyes.

“Darling,” she said, kissing him upon the lips, “I’m yours. Only do trust your Carina, won’t you? You said you would. We have both been disillusioned, and are now united because of our own broken hearts. You can surely trust me. I like Karl--that’s all!”

Darville sat silent, his dark brows contracted. He, a strenuous, intellectual worker, determined and purposeful with initiative and inventive ability, his heart as that of a child, and yet with the bitterest revenge against his enemies, regarded her in silence. He was never moved from a decision when morally convinced that he was right, and his temperament always set sound judgment above ambition.

“Yes, darling,” he said at last, “of course, I trust you. I know that you will never deceive me. If you did, then--well--my life would be ended. You know how I adore you.”

“And I adore you, too, Seti, just as devotedly as you adore me.”

“Then don’t let us discuss it further,” he said, pressing her to him, and imprinting on her lips a long, passionate caress.

And afterwards they continued their walk.

Next day was Christmas--a real, old-fashioned, gay Christmas, the delights of which are known to every winter sports enthusiast. The Yuletide dinner, with its big, illuminated Christmas tree, was followed by a fancy-dress ball, at which Darville, having made his Christmas speech, helped to judge the prizes. Everyone wore fancy costume, and at midnight Darville stopped the dancing, and brought up the judges to decide upon the best and most original dresses.

He saw little of Edris, who danced all night with various partners, for she was always popular, being an excellent dancer.

At nearly four o’clock Darville found her ensconced in a corner with one of her partners, drinking orangeade and nibbling potato chips.

“I’m coming, Seton,” she cried. “I thought you’d gone,” she added with a laugh. As a matter of fact, she was waiting for him to say good-night, as was her habit.

Next morning, though everybody lay in bed until late, Karl Weiss was shown into Darville’s room while he was dressing. He had left Interlaken soon after seven, and, as he entered, a tall, clean-shaven figure of the exact type of a Prussian officer, he laughed merrily, saying:

“Well, it’s awfully good of you to invite me, Mr. Darville! I’ve only a week or so longer here at home in Switzerland, and I’m making the best of it.”

“Naturally,” said the burly Englishman warmly.

At that moment Edris burst into the room, bright and buoyant.

“I only heard from the _concierge_ this moment that you had arrived, Karl! We are going up the Männlichen to-morrow, aren’t we? Seton insists on John, the guide, going with us.”

“Well, if he does, why should not John carry our rucksack?” replied the tall, good-looking Swiss.

Throughout that day Edris and Karl were inseparable. They went out ski-ing till noon, and when they sat at the table they were absorbed in each other’s conversation. Yet Seton Darville, man of the world that he was, regarded the friendship only as that of an English girl who loved Switzerland being attracted by a gallant Swiss mountaineer.

How was it possible, he asked himself, that she, his beloved, could forget those vows she had made only so short a time before? If she did, then he had no further trust in any woman. He had had none till she became his idol. He worshipped at her shrine, and so sacred was she, that he could never bring himself to doubt her.