It was from now onward that his nights were
often agony. Every movement, every word of Halcyone came back to him,
from the old days of long ago when she had given him the oak leaf, to
the moment of her looking into his eyes, with all her soul in hers, as
she had answered his passionate question. "Afraid? How should I be
afraid--since you are my lord and I am your love? Do not we belong to
one another?"
And in spite of the peace Mrs. Cricklander's absence caused in the
atmosphere, John Derringham grew more unutterably wretched as time went
on.
His cup seemed to be filling from all sides. The Government was going
out in disaster, and, instead of being able to stand by his colleagues
and fight, and perhaps avert catastrophe by his brilliant speeches and
biting wit, he was chained like a log to a sofa and was completely
impotent.
It was no wonder his convalescence was slow, and that Arabella grew
anxious about him. She felt that some of Mrs. Cricklander's wrath and
disgust because of this state of things would fall upon her head.
His ankle was a great deal better now, it was five weeks since the
accident, and in a day or two he hoped to leave for London.
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