She turned over and her blue eyes opened, still dewy with sleep. Suddenly they widened, and she breathed his name. Recalling her words when she had woken him at midnight, he said:
"I am no dream. I'm real."
"Then I must have fallen asleep," she murmured.
"Yes." A faint smile twitched the corners of his mouth. "This dropping asleep in one another's arms threatens to become a habit Still, you wanted to sleep with me, and you've had your wish."
"But nothing happened?"
"No, nothing."
Her lovely face clouded over. "Then I failed after all to arouse in you the sort of impulse that Doctor Fergusson said you needed."
For the first time in over a fortnight Roger laughed. "Oh come! I cannot believe that young Fergusson sent you to me, or that he had that sort of impulse in mind."
"Indeed no! He implied only that some means of taking your thoughts off your grief must be found if your brain was to be restored to normal."
"Then in that you have succeeded. I know not how, but I think it must have been your wish to heal me coupled with your nearness as you lay beside me all through the night. Something flowed out of you and into me that was balm to my troubled soul."
"Oh Roger, I am overjoyed!"
He made a little grimace. "I fear you may be less so when you hear the sequel. During the night I have had ample time to think. I must have work—real work—to occupy my mind; and the routine of
a Governor in an island at peace will not provide it. Moreover, should I remain in Martinique I shall be constantly reminded of Amanda. 1 am going home by the first ship I can find to take me, and I do not intend to return."
"What of your little daughter? Surely you do not intend to abandon her completely?"
"No. Later I will endeavour to be all that a father should be to her. But for the present she is too young to travel. When I have surrendered my Governorship, Cousin Margaret will, I am sure, give her a home."
"What then of myself? It was I whom Amanda charged with the care of her child, and I accepted the charge gladly."
"I know it, and am truly grateful, but I do not wish her to become a tie upon you. It is my most earnest wish that either here or in England you should find a husband."
"Do you then force me, to the choice of marrying someone for whom I do not care, or returning to live with my Aunt Jane in near poverty?"
"Perish the thought, Clarissa! What can you think of me? I had intended, whatever you decided, to regard you in future as my ward and make you a suitable allowance."
"Bless, you for that," she smiled. "I had not really thought you meant to abandon me. Your Cousin Margaret would no doubt give me a home, for some months at least, out of kindness; but it would make me happier if I could offer to become her paying guest. Have you thought yet what you mean to do about the babe when she is old enough for me to bring her to England?"
"As you must by now have heard, Georgina had a boy in August. The children will be much of an age so they can share a nursery. And now, my dear, it is time for you to go back to your room."
Clarissa, still naked, had been lying on her back with the bedclothes drawn up to her chin. Now, she slipped out of bed with her back to him and stretched out a hand to pick up her robe.
"One moment!" he said, jumping out beside her, and taking her hand in his. "Come to the window. I want to see the dawn, and you in it"
"But Roger!" she protested, trying to pull away from him.
"Nay!" he laughed. "After last night you have no case to plead modesty with me, and nought to be ashamed of. Never again in all my life may I have a chance to look upon such rare and splendid beauty."
Obediently, then, she allowed him to lead her to one of the tall windows. As he pulled back the heavy curtains the light came flooding in upon them. The sun had just overtopped the mountains to the east and beyond a deep belt of shadow lit the blue waters of the outer bay.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "At last I can again welcome a new day— a new life. And you have made that possible."
As he turned and stood away from her, tears welled up into her eyes, and she said miserably: "Oh Roger! I know not what to think. You say now that I am beautiful, yet last night you put me from you. To understand you is beyond me."
'Is it so difficult?" his voice was gentle. "I am not made of stone; but memories of Amanda will for long make any thought of taking another wife out of the question for me. To have made you my mistress, then left you, would have been a cruel thing to do. Moreover, I would not have it on my conscience that when you do find some good fellow that you wish to marry, you should be deprived of the joy of knowing physical love for the first time with him."
"Then you did desire me?"
He smiled. "So much so that when you have been married a while, I'll do my utmost to seduce you." "Must I wait for that?"
"Yes. And should your marriage prove a happy one, you'll wait in vain. But I wanted you to know that for you I shall always have the tenderest feelings."
'She held out her arms. He took her into his and gave her a long sweet kiss. Then he said: "When I come downstairs in a few hours' time, remember to show as much surprise as the others. Now my pretty, you must go, or one of our fuzzy-haired housemaids will see you leave my room."
He then helped her on with her robe, and from the door watched her tiptoe away down the corridor.
When in due course he came downstairs everyone was amazed to see him brisk, smiling and entirely restored to his old good humour. Apart from apologizing to his Cousin, Clarissa, Penruddock and Fergusson for his boorish behaviour he made no reference to the past, except to say that he felt sure it would have been Amanda's wish that Clarissa should have all her things, and to distribute the many presents he had brought for her between Clarissa and his Cousin. Then he duly admired and caressed his little daughter, who he decided should be christened Susan Amanda.
Having disclosed his intention of returning to England, as he had already charged Penruddock with carrying on for him, he had only to spend an hour with the Colonel informally, discussing the affairs of the island. Another hour, with Mr. Beckwith, revealed that during the year he had held the appointment of Governor he had netted well over four thousand pounds, in addition to his salary, and, as the post was unlikely to be taken over for several months to come, he could expect at least another fifteen hundred, which was most satisfactory.
No ship was expected to leave for England under a fortnight, but a schooner was due to sail from St Pierre for Jamaica next day; so he decided to take passage in her. Penruddock turned out the regiment there to do him the honours as he went aboard, and, after farewells as cheerful as they could be in the circumstances, the schooner put out from the harbour to the thundering of cannon up in the fortress firing a Governor's salute.
On the second day crossing the Caribbean he had great cause to wish that he had waited for a larger ship, as that afternoon the schooner was chased by a Dutch privateersman. In view of his dire experience the previous year he was for some hours filled with the most nerve-racking apprehensions. But nightfall saved the schooner from capture
and on the 15th brought him safely to Kingston, where he found at anchor a large British Fleet.
The Williamsons were pleased to put him up again, but the. General was in poor shape and had a gloomy story to tell. He had spent most of the past year directing operations in Saint-Domingue, but owing to the unreliability of the troops under the French Royalists, lack of stores and the ravages of Yellow Jack among his own men, he had made no headway whatever against Toussaint and the Revolutionaries inspired by Victor Hugues. Ill and worn out by his endeavour to make bricks without straw, he had in the autumn been granted long furlough; but his successor, Sir Ralph Abercromby, had arrived only die previous day.