Will O’ the Wisp by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online Page B

nor heard. David’s hand tightened on Eleanor’s shoulder, and he said:
    â€œWhy did you do it?”
    â€œI don’t know—you were so far away—I don’t know—” Then quite suddenly: “That’s not true. I do know. I was a fool—girls don’t understand very much—he fascinated me—it was like a fever—I didn’t think—I just did it. And then—when it was too late—I woke up.”
    She shivered and drew away from him, holding her cloak with cold, clenched fingers.
    â€œDavid—” She choked on the word and began again. “Why did you ask? No—I suppose you’ve a right to ask.”
    â€œNo,” said David. “No.”
    She controlled her voice.
    â€œI don’t know why I should mind. Everyone knew. There’d been someone else for years. I would have cared for him if it had been possible. It wasn’t—and everybody knew.”
    David knew something too. Cosmo Rayne had had a reputation; amongst other things, he drank. It was not hard to believe that Eleanor had not found it possible to care. Gay, unscrupulous, a drunkard, trusted even less by men than by women. He felt a pity, which had no words, for Eleanor.
    With an effort she turned her eyes from the glittering water.
    â€œBetty and I—we both made rather a mess of things—didn’t we?” She paused; something tragic looked out of her eyes. “Betty’s got Dick. I lost my baby. Did you know?”
    â€œYes,” said David.
    Eleanor walked away towards the house. She wanted to reach the black shadow, to pass through it to her own dark room, and to cry her heart out. The old mournful pain which never quite left her heart had risen in sudden flood; it overwhelmed her, and she could only just hold back the tears.
    She came to the window of Betty’s room, groped for the pane, and pushed. The window was shut.
    David came up behind her.
    â€œWhat is it? Are you faint?”
    Her hand was on the glass; she leaned against the jamb.
    â€œDavid, it’s shut!”
    â€œYou came out this way?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    â€œQuite sure.”
    â€œThen she’s slipped in and done us down. It doesn’t matter—I’ve got a key.”
    He took her arm in an easy, brotherly fashion, and they came together to the door which led into the garden-room.
    David switched on the light.
    â€œRun up and see if you can catch her. She deserves a wigging.”
    In the light Eleanor was very pale, but her composure had come back. David’s friendly clasp, the bare room full of familiar shabby things, the light—all helped to restore her to her everyday self. There was the old battered croquet set, the fishing rods, the old garden chairs. She said, “Yes, she does,” and ran across the hall and up the stairs to Folly’s room.
    She did not knock, but opened the door quickly and stood listening. Darkness and silence. Her hand went up and pulled down the switch; the bulb in the ceiling sprang into brilliance. The light shone on one stocking by the washstand and another by the dressing-table; on a pair of shoes in opposite corners of the room; on a scarlet garter hanging from the bedpost; on Folly’s scattered garments; and on Folly March in bed, with a pale blue eiderdown snuggled tightly up to her chin.
    Eleanor crossed over to the bed and stood there looking down. Folly’s black lashes lay smoothly upon Folly’s pale smooth cheek; Folly’s little red mouth, washed clean of lipstick, was firmly closed; one little ear showed pink against the sleek black hair. She looked very young.
    Eleanor put a hand on the blue eiderdown; and all of a sudden Folly cried out and turned, her eyes wide open and an arm flung out. Her cry was the unintelligible murmur of a dream. The wide green eyes were as empty and blank as water; there was no imp in them; there was nothing but