An Unofficial rose

Sally

'He'll forget the bad times and remember the good, said Mildred. 'We all do.

'Where's Humphrey now, anyway? In the haste of a rather suddenly decided-upon departure he had not managed to check on the activities of the, as usual, conveniently preoccupied Humphrey.

'Oh, he's in?RAhat?. I'm sure he has consoled himself quickly. We all do.

'Hmm, said Hugh. He signalled to the waiter. The bar was warm and plushy and now almost empty. Most of the passengers seemed to have opted for an early night. The beat of the engines, happily drowning his murmuring ears, surrounded him protectively as the bright cosy air-conditioned ship moved smoothly onward through the waste of black waters, It was good to be going south. When he had been at Grayhallock lately a steady east wind had been blowing a rain of rose petals down on to the sodden levels of the Marsh. It was good to be going. 'Another drink, Mildred?

'I don't think so, said Mildred. She yawned and stretched shamelessly. 'I think I'll be off. I've ordered a bottle of Scotch and some milk in my cabin. Why not come and see me there before you go to bed? I'll give you a special whisky drink with ci

'All right, said Hugh. 'I'll come along in twenty minutes or so.

What's the news of Beryl, by the way?

'They're getting married next month. Humpo will go, of course. Beryl Finch, to the general amazement, was getting married to a well-known barrister.

'I hope she'll get on with it, Mildred added. 'I'm dying to have more descendants. I'll be a fizzing grandmother.

'Confess you were surprised!

'About Beryl? Stu

'Ah — I've had all mine, he said sadly.

Mildred laughed. 'I wouldn’t be too sure! Well, be seeing you. She picked up her pile of picture-books of India and went off, ruffling Felix's hair as she passed him. She certainly seemed quite rejuvenated.

Hugh brooded quietly. He had a sense of everything being now in order. Or rather it was not yet quite in order, but a stage had been reached, a clearance had been made, and he felt as if he had only now, at his leisure, to put each thing neatly into its place. With this there came to him a comfortable sense of being justified.

He thought about A

There was still no direct news of Randall. It appeared that he had left Rome, and there were rumors of his having been seen in Taormina and that he was trying to buy a villa there. Hugh felt no distress about his son, but only a sort of rather exhausted rather pleasurable feeling such as one might have after a successfully brought-off bout of illicit love-making. No one knew. It had been his own private coup, his own privately arranged alteration to the face of the world, the beautiful, extravagant, feckless setting of Randall free. He had been let out, like a wild bird, like a wild beast, and whatever should come of his more extended prowl his father did not feel that he would regret his act. He could be confident that Randall would slash the colour on. Happy or not, Randall would certainly live. And Hugh could now be demure with an untroubled heart. This crime squared him with the tipsy gods.

Yet it had been all for Emma. Or had it really? Emma. He wondered if he would ever see her again; and he thought now of the possibility of her death with a calm resignation which did justice to her own dignity. He must in the end let her be. It was impossible to remake the past. They had fashioned their own destinies and had of necessity become dream figures to each other, and there was no violence of action, no feverish grasping and flinging back of the years which could alter that now. Emma, enthroned in her wisdom, her witchery, her illness and the sheer mystery of her own life had sufficiently given him a sign. She was, he felt, beyond him; and his humility contained its own Bat cheerfulness. As he dropped his hands in resignation he felt something akin to relief. After all he had doubtless, in the old days, turned her down for some good reasons.

He had thought lately a great deal more about Fa

Felix had finished his letter and got up. He passed by Hugh to say good night, and Hugh noticed benevolently how tired, in fact, Felix looked, and how his hair was greying and receding. Being in love is an exhausting business.

Felix asked, 'Is there any news of A

'How very kind of you to think of her. She was quite well when I left. She has such resources.

'Not moping, you thought?

'Certainly not. Gay, rather, in her own little way. She's quite a bouncy little person really.

'A bouncy little person, said Felix. 'Yes, I'm glad she's not depressed. Well, good night, Hugh. I hope you remembered to bring your painting things?

'Yes. I'm looking forward to painting again. I'm looking forward to everything. I expect we shall see the sun tomorrow. Good night, FeIix.

Hugh got up when Felix was gone and wandered out of the now empty bar on to the deck. He walked to the rail. Behind the ship the pale road of the wake stretched away back into the night. The black: empty water surrounded them, the old eternal preoccupied ruthless sea. Hugh worshipped its darkness, its vastness, its utter indifference. He felt lighter and happier than at any time since Fa