The next day Launa received the following letter. She was starting for a long walk when it came, and read it on the way.
“MY DEAREST LAUNA,—How are you? We are longing to see you. Do come to London. Are you not coming for your music? Mr. Wainbridge was here to-day. He is much concerned, dear, that you do not come back to town. He fears you may be going to Canada to leave us all. Jack is most anxious to see you too. We are still happy, madly, gloriously, interruptedly happy. Interruptions are salutary—they add joy to the everydayness of life. Dear Launa, _do_ come back soon.
Launa went across the moor to the “Cat and Fiddle.” Only by long walks could she kill the restlessness which overcame her. She was longing to hear some music again, and Lily’s letter arrived at exactly the very best time for Mr. Wainbridge.
Mr. Wainbridge wrote almost every day. He sent her books, music, and flowers. He tried to induce her to come to town. He told her that he loved her with a love of the soul, that his one longing was to comfort her, to endeavour to make up for the grief and despair of the past. She thought of him with interest. He possessed the glamour of a lover for her without any of the disadvantages of being enamoured herself. This was an affection of the mind—a soul-love that he felt for her; it lulled her into security. She resolved to leave in a week for London, there to begin her music again.
As she walked home across the moor, she thought of the days at “Solitude” with her father—she felt old and sad. Work only was left; her aspirations on first coming to London seemed the foolish yearnings of a child for the moon. She would _do_ something—play, work, and forget with her heart and soul, and also she _would_ care for some person. This unsatisfied longing for the woods, for her father and the old life must be crushed, and speedily. How easy it was to label her longings! She did not add the desire for one word from Paul to them, and yet that was the greatest one of all. Lily’s suggestion that she might intend to go to Canada again filled her with loathing. How could she face “Solitude”?
And so she and her maid journeyed to Victoria Mansions. Lily came to welcome her, and expressed herself as being enchanted with life, though really Jack and she were starting on an unsatisfactory wild-goose chase. Occasionally they had a day together—sometimes he merely came to dine when she was having a party. Sir Ralph spent many and long days with her; they went about together, and Jack waited. He had a firm belief in his own future with her. She would tire of this life and be glad to rest, and know he would care always.