CHAPTER XIX
THROUGHOUT the evening while she was laughing and talking with thestream of guests, Marcia kept a sub-conscious notion of Sybert'smovements. She saw him in the hall exchanging jokes with the Englishambassador. She saw him talking to Eleanor Royston and bending over theContessa Torrenieri. And once, as she whirled past in a waltz, shecaught sight of his dark face in a doorway with his eyes fixed on her,and she forgave him Eleanor and the contessa. She was conscious all thetime of a secret amazement at herself. Sybert had suddenly become forher the only person in the room, and while she was outwardly intentupon what other men were saying, her mind was filled with the pictureof his face as he had looked during that silent moment by the fountain.She went through the evening in a maze, conscious only of the approachof the one dance she had with him.
When the evening was nearing its end she was suddenly brought to hersenses by the realization that she was strolling down one of the ilexwalks with Paul Dessart at her side. She had been rattling onunheedingly, and she scarcely knew how they had come there. Her firstinstinct was one of self-preservation; she felt what was coming, andshe wanted to ward it off. Anything to get back to the crowd again! Shepaused and looked back at the lighted villa, listening to the sound ofthe violins rising above the murmur of voices and laughter. For amoment she almost felt impelled to turn and run. Since she had stopped,Paul stopped perforce, and looked at her questioningly.
'I--I think we'd better go back,' she stammered. 'This dance is almostover, and----'
'We won't go back just yet,' he returned. 'I want to talk to you. Youowe me a few moments, Marcia. Come here and sit down and listen to whatI have to say.'
He turned into the little circle by the fountain and motioned toward agarden seat. Marcia dropped limply upon it and looked at him with anair of pleading. There was no circumlocution; both knew that the timehad come when everything must be said, and Paul went to the point.
'Well, Marcia, are you going to marry me?'
Marcia sat opening and shutting her fan nervously, trying to frame ananswer that would not hurt him.
'I've been patient; I haven't bothered you. You surely ought to knowyour own mind now. You've had a month--it hasn't been exactly a happymonth for me. Tell me, please, Marcia. Don't keep me waiting anylonger.'
'Oh, Paul!' she said, looking back with half-frightened eyes. 'It's alla mistake.'
'A mistake! What do you mean? Marcia, I trusted you. You can't throw meover now. Tell me quickly!'
'Forgive me, Paul,' she faltered miserably. 'I--I was mistaken. Ithought, that day in the cloister----'
He realized that, somehow, she was slipping away from him and that hemust fight to get her back. He bent toward her and took her hand, withhis glowing, eager face close to hers, his words coming so fast that hefairly stuttered.
'Yes, that day in the cloister. You did care for me then, didn't you,Marcia--just a little bit? You let me hope--you told me there wasn'tany other man--you've been kind to me ever since. That's what I'velived on this whole month--the memory of that afternoon. Tell me whatthe trouble is--don't let anything come between us. We've had such ahappy spring--let it keep on being happy. We've lived in Arcady,Marcia--you and I. Why should we ever leave it? Why must we goback--why not go forward? If you cared that afternoon, you can carenow. I haven't changed. Tell me why you hesitate. I don't want to forceyou to make up your mind, but this uncertainty is simply hell.'
Marcia listened, breathing fast, half carried away by the impetuousflow of his words. She sat watching him with troubled eyes and silentlips in a sort of stupor. She could not collect her thoughtssufficiently to answer him. What had she to say? she asked herselfwildly. What could she say that was adequate?
Paul, bending forward, his eyes close to hers, was waiting expectantly,insistently, for her to speak, when suddenly they were startled by astep on the gravel path before them, and they both looked up to seeLaurence Sybert, cigarette in hand, stroll around the corner of theilex walk. As his eye fell upon them he stopped like a man shot, andfor a breathless instant the three faced one another. Then, with aquick rigidity of his whole figure, he bowed an apology and wheeledabout. Marcia turned from red to white and snatched her hand away.
Paul watched her a moment with an angry light growing in his eyes. 'Youare in love with Laurence Sybert!' he whispered.
Marcia shrank back in the corner and hid her face against the back ofthe seat. Paul bent over her.
'Look at me,' he cried; 'tell me it's not true. You can't do it! You'vebeen deceiving me. You've been lying! Oh, yes, I know you've been verycareful not to make any promises in so many words, but you've made themin other ways, and I believed you. I've been fool enough to think youin earnest, and all the time you've been amusing yourself!'
Marcia raised her eyes to his. 'Paul, I haven't. You are mistaken. Idon't know how I've changed; I can't explain. That day in the cloisterI thought I liked you very much. And if Margaret hadn't come in,perhaps--I wouldn't have deceived you for a moment, and you know it.'
'Tell me you don't love Sybert.'
'Paul, you have no right----'
'I have no right! You said there was no one else, and I believed you;and now, when I ask for an explanation, you tell me to go about mybusiness. I suppose you were beginning to get tired of me these lastfew days, and thought----'
'You have no _right_ to talk to me this way! I haven't meant to deceiveyou. You asked me if there were any one else, and I told you there wasnot, and it was true. I'm sorry--sorry to hurt you, but it's better tofind it out now.'
Paul rose to his feet with a very hard laugh.
'Oh, yes, decidedly it's better to find it out now. It would have beenstill better if you had found it out sooner.'
He turned his back and kicked the coping of the fountain viciously.Marcia crossed over to him and touched him on the arm.
'Paul,' she said, 'I can't let it end so. I know I have been very muchto blame, but not as you think. I liked you so much.'
He turned and saw the tears in her eyes, and his anger vanished.
'Oh, I know. I've no business to speak so--but--I'm naturally cut up,you know. Don't cry about it; you can't help it. If you don't love me,you don't, and that ends the matter. I'll get over it, Marcia.' Hesmiled a trifle bleakly. 'I'm not the fellow to sit down and cry when Ican't have what I want. I've gone without things before.' He offeredher his arm. 'We'll go back now; I'm afraid you're missing your dances.'
Marcia barely touched his arm, and they turned back without speaking.He led her into the hall, and bowing with his eyes on the floor, turnedback out of doors. She laughed and chatted her way through two or threegroups before she could reach the stairs and escape to her own room,where she locked the door and sank down on the floor by the couch.Trouble was beginning for her sooner than she had thought, andunderneath the remorse and pity she felt for Paul, the thing that laylike lead on her heart was the look on Sybert's face as he turned away.
A knock presently came on the door, followed by a rattling of the knob.
'Marcia, Marcia!' called Eleanor Royston. 'Are you in there?' Marciaraised her head and listened in silence.
The knock came again. She rose and went to the door.
'What do you want?' she asked.
'I want to come in. It's I--Eleanor. Open the door. Why don't you comedown?'
Marcia shook out her rumpled skirts, pushed back her hair, and openedthe door.
'Everybody's asking for you. The ambassador says you were engaged tohim for a---- Why, what's the matter?'
Marcia drew back quickly into the shadow, and Eleanor stepped in andclosed the door behind her.
'What's the matter, child?' she inquired again. 'You've been crying!Has Paul----?' she asked suddenly. Eleanor's intuitive faculties wereabnormally developed. 'I suppose he was pretty nasty,' she proceeded,taking Marcia's answer for granted. 'He can be on occasion. But, totell you the truth, I think he has some cause to be. I think youdeserve all you got
.'
Marcia sank into a chair with a gesture of weariness, and Eleanorwalked about the room handling the ornaments.
'Oh, I knew he was in love with you. There's nothing subtle about Paul.He wears his heart on his sleeve, if any one ever did. But if you don'tmind my saying so, Marcia, I think you've been playing with rather ahigh hand. It's hardly legitimate, you know, to deliberately set out tomake a man fall in love with you.'
'I haven't been playing. I didn't mean to.'
'Oh, nonsense! Men don't fall in love without a little encouragement;and I'm not blind--I've been watching you. If you want my honestopinion, I think you've been pretty unfair with Paul.'
'I know it,' Marcia said miserably; 'you can't blame me any worse thanI blame myself. But you just can't love people if you don't.'
'I'm not blaming you for not loving him; it's for his loving you. That,by using a little foresight, might have been avoided. However, I don'tknow that I'm exactly the person to preach.' Eleanor dropped into achair with a short laugh, and leaned forward with her chin in her handand her eyes on Marcia's face. 'I have a theory, Marcia--it's more thana theory: it's a superstition,--that some day we'll be paid in our owncoin. I'm twenty-eight, and a good many men have thought they were inlove with me, while I myself have never managed to fall in love withany of them. But I'm going to, some day--hard--and then either he's notgoing to care about me or something's going to be in the way so that wecan't marry. It's going to be a tragedy. I know it as well as I knowI'm sitting here. I'm going to pay for my nine seasons, and withinterest. It makes me reckless; the score is already so heavy againstme that a few more items don't count. But I know my tragedy's coming,and the longer I put it off the worse it's going to be. It's a nicesuperstition; I'll share it with you, Marcia.'
Marcia smiled rather sorrily. It was not a superstition she cared tohave thrust upon her just then. She was divining it for herself, anddid not need Eleanor to put it into words.
'As for Paul, you couldn't do anything else, of course. You're notfitted to each other for a moment, and you'll grow more unfitted everyday. Paul needs some one who is more objective--who doesn't think toomuch--some one like--well, like Margaret, for instance. In themeantime, you needn't worry; he'll manage to survive it.' She rose withanother laugh and stood over Marcia's chair. 'It's over and done with,and can't be helped; there's nothing to cry about. But mark my words,Marcia Copley, you'll be falling in love yourself some day, and thenI--Paul will be avenged. Meanwhile there are several years before youin which you can have a very good time. Come on; we must go downstairs.The people will be leaving in a little while. Bathe your eyes, and I'llfix your hair.'
Marcia went downstairs and laughed and danced and talked again, andonce she almost stopped in the middle of a speech to wonder how shecould do it. It was finally with heartfelt thankfulness that shewatched the people beginning to leave. Once, as she was bidding a groupgood night, she caught sight of Sybert in the hall bending over thecontessa's hand. She covertly studied his face, but it was more darklyinscrutable than ever. She slipped upstairs as soon as the lastcarriage had rolled away; it was not until long after the sunlight hadstreamed into her windows, however, that she finally closed her eyes.Eleanor Royston's pleasant 'superstition' she was pondering veryearnestly.