The Quiet Heart by Susan Barrie Read Free Book Online Page A

when he was ill, and I promised to look after the girls—always! Of course I’ll keep my promise. I—we—we’re great friends.”
    There was no doubt about it, the brandy fumes were mounting to her head. She looked down rather stupidly into her empty glass, and she felt him take it from her and set it on the tray. She smiled sleepily.
    “It’s the warmth of the fire ... and I haven’t really s-sat down to-day! This is the first time I’ve ever sat here in the library of Leydon—”
    “Why did you come and live at Leydon?”
    “Because Roger lost his money ... or nearly all of it! He bought some shares.”
    “What happened to them?”
    She made a little gesture with her hands.
    “Knowing what happened to your father, couldn’t you have advised him against it?”
    “I did, but he wouldn’t listen.”
    “I see. And after that you came here?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you like the late Sir Francis?”
    “He was very kind.”
    “You acted as a kind of caretaker here?”
    She nodded.
    “In the summer I—I showed people round... ” She wished he wouldn’t keep trying to drag information out of her, but would simply let her lie back there comfortably and close her eyes. Her eyelids felt weighted with lead. It was becoming increasingly difficult to form words. “I—I made cakes and things and s-served teas ... sometimes lunches—”
    “And Sir Francis paid you to act the part of caretaker for him?”
    “Oh, no, he—he knew Roger wouldn’t like that. But he let us live here—cheaply.”
    “Have you an agreement?”
    “Oh, no, nothing like that.”
    “Do you realise you may not be able to go on living here?”
    She sent him an imploring look. This was too much for her to grasp, too much for her to cope with.
    In any case, it no longer seemed to matter. The only thing that mattered was that this inquisition should cease, and that he would have the common humanity to let her close her eyes—just for an instant.
    Half an hour later she was still asleep, and he hadn’t made a move. Then he noticed that the fire was getting low, and already, as a result, the room seemed to be growing chill. Alison, in her enormous chair, looked small by comparison, and although her golden hair looked bright against the dark red velvet of the cushion that supported her head her small oval face, by comparison with her gay blue overall, looked pale and pinched.
    He got up suddenly, taking an extraordinary amount of care not to disturb her, and made up the fire.

 
    CHAPTER IV
    Alison awakened in her own room next morning with a sensation that something was very far from right. As she lay striving to clear her brain and to think what it was memory asserted itself, and she received a shock.
    She could recall a hand on her arm, shaking her ... not particularly gently, but at the same time not ungently. The room was dark, except for feeble firelight, and someone who appeared enormous in that distorting twilight bent over her and spoke to her urgently.
    “You’ll have to go upstairs to bed, Mrs. Fairlie. There’s no more fuel, and I can’t keep the fire going any longer. It’s cold, and you’ll catch a chill ... we’ll both catch a chill! I’m sorry, because you were sleeping so peacefully.”
    Alison struggled up, but she was too confused to be aware of having done anything outrageous. That was to come later, when she was more alert. All she could do was stammer something that sounded like:
    “Did I fall asleep? How silly! What time is it? You should have wakened me!”
    “I hadn’t the heart to waken you, and it’s two o’clock.”
    “ Two o’clock ?” She gasped at him, and then she sprang to her feet in horror.
    “Mr. Leydon, I’m terribly sorry! I—I don’t understand how it happened... ” She started groping for the electric light switch, but he reached it ahead of her. As the light flashed on she became aware of her dishevelled appearance—that is to say, she couldn’t see herself, but she knew her coil