DIRECTLY Chris had gone Marie opened her door, which he had shutafter him, and ran downstairs.
The lounge was almost deserted. Most of the visitors were dressingfor dinner, but Feathers was lounging against the open swing doorwhich led into the garden.
His hands were deep thrust into his pockets and he was looking outover the sea with moody eyes.
Marie ran up to him breathlessly. "Mr. Dakers---"
He turned at once. "Yes." He noticed the flushed agitation of herface. "Is anything the matter?" he asked in swift concern.
"Yes! I mean no! Oh, it's nothing much, at any rate, but--but Itold Chris you were going to take me to a concert to-night, thatyou had got two tickets . . ." She broke off agitatedly, only torush on again. "Of course, I know you're not! I only just said it,but--but if he asks you--oh, you wouldn't mind not telling him,would you?"
Feathers looked utterly mystified, but she was too much in earnestfor him to smile, so he said quietly:
"There is rather a good show on the pier, so I'm told, I'll getsome tickets and we'll go."
She flushed all over her face and her lips quivered.
"I know it's horrid of me, and I can't explain; there isn't anyneed for you to take me at all, really, but . . . but I knew Chriswanted to play billiards---" She broke off, she had said more thanshe intended.
Feathers laughed. "Chris is a goth! I like music, and I'm sure youdo, so we'll snap our fingers at him and go to the concert."
"You don't really want to! You wouldn't have thought of it, if Ihadn't said anything," she stammered.
"I've often thought of it," he maintained quietly. "If the truthmust be told, I'm very fond of music, so it will be a kindness ifyou will let me pretend that I'm only going to please you."
There was a little silence, then Marie slipped her hand into hiswith a long sigh of relief.
"Oh, you are a dear," she said, and fled away before he couldanswer.
She went up to her own room and hurried with her dressing. She didnot want to go to the concert in the very least. It had cost her agreat deal to refuse Chris' offer of that moonlit walk, but in herheart she knew that he had only suggested it as reparation for hisforgetfulness of last night, and her pride would not allow her toaccept.
If he had wished to go with her he would not have forgotten. Sheknew Chris well enough to know that he never forgot a thing that hewished to remember, and there was a little choking lump of miseryin her throat as she hurriedly changed her frock.
Chris was very punctilious about dressing for dinner. It was one ofhis pet snobberies, so Feathers declared, for Feathers himself hada fine disregard of appearances and of what people thought.
But to-night even he struggled into a dinner jacket, andhalf-strangled himself in a high collar in honor of Marie. At dinnerChris chaffed him mercilessly across the space that divided theirtables.
"You'll be putting brilliantine on your hair next," he said. "Notthat it would be much use!" he added dryly.
"I think his hair looks very nice," said Marie Celeste. She didnot think so, but she was so grateful to him for haying rushedinto the breach for her to-night that she looked upon him throughrose-tinted glasses.
Feathers smiled grimly, meeting her eyes.
"Mrs. Lawless, may you be forgiven!" he said solemnly. "And may Ialso remind you that if you want to be in time for the show, you'llhave to go without the water ice which I see they promise us as thefinal tit-bit on the menu."
"I hate water ices," Marie declared. "And I'm quite ready when youare." She looked at her husband.
"Don't wait for me, my child," said Chris. "Run away and amuseyourself."
Marie rose from the table quietly.
"I'll just get my coat," she said to Feathers. She walked down theroom between the crowded tables, the eyes of both men followingher.
She made a pathetic little figure, so Feathers thought, and wasangry with himself for the thought. He did not want to think of heras unhappy. He could not imagine why he always read sadness in herface.
He turned to Chris. "Why don't you come with us?" he askedabruptly.
Chris opened his eyes in faint astonishment.
"What! Be penned up in a stuffy concert hall all the evening?" hesaid.
"My dear chap, it's no worse than the billiard room." Feathersanswered irascibly. "You spend too much of your time there."
Chris looked at him in utter amazement; then he laughed.
"Is it a joke or what?" he asked helplessly.
Feathers pushed back his chair rather violently and rose.
"Think it over," he said curtly, and walked out of the room.
Chris did think it over. He went out on to the sea front, andstared at the sea, and wondered what on earth his friend hadbeen driving at. He did not at all like the way in which Feathershad looked at him or the tone of voice in which he had spoken.As a rule, everyone looked upon Chris with approval. He threw hishalf-smoked cigarette over the sea wall on to the sand, and withmorose eyes, watched it consume away.
He was not going to be lectured by Feathers, old friends as theywere! He began to feel himself distinctly ill-used.
Now he came to think of it it was pretty cool of him to take MarieCeleste off to a concert and leave him to shift for himself. He wasnot at all sure that he was being fairly treated.
"A penny for your thoughts." said Mrs. Heriot beside him, and hestarted from his reverie and laughed.
"Nothing. I was just wondering about something, that's all."
He was really rather glad to see her. It was dusk out there on thesea front, and Mrs. Heriot always looked her best in a half-light,as do most women who take the tint of their hair and complexion outof a box.
She was dressed in black, too. It suited her admirably, and therewas a fluffy white fur round her throat and shoulders which ratherappealed to Chris.
Feathers had knocked a corner off his complacency, and he was justin a mood to accept the soothing flattery which Mrs. Heriot knew toa nicety how to administer.
"I've never seen you look so cross before," she challenged him."What is the matter and where is Mrs. Lawless?"
"She's gone to a concert."
"Oh, yes, with Mr. Dakers! I saw them going along the road togetherJust now." She paused. "You don't care for music, I suppose?"
"Not particularly."
"Neither do I. I don't think people who are very keen on games areever fond of music and artistic things like that, do you?"
"Perhaps not," he agreed.
She drew the feathery wrap closer round her throat.
"Isn't it a heavenly night? What shall we do?"
Chris laughed rather grimly. "I've nothing to do. I'm quite at yourservice."
"Really?" Her eyes were bright it the half-light. "Well, then,shall we take a boat and row out to meet the moon?"
"Meet the moon!" Chris echoed blankly.
She laughed. "Yes, isn't that what romantic people do? I know I'mnot a romantic person, but I'm going to pretend to be, just for onenight---"
She laid her hand on his arm. "Do! It will be such fun."
Her excitement was rather infectious, and after the smallesthesitation Chris yielded.
"Oh, all right. Can we get a boat?"
"Of course we can." She kept her hand through his arm as they wentdown the sands to look for an old boatman from whom Mrs. Heriotdeclared she had often hired boats before.
"Do ye want me to come along with yer?" he asked, as he dragged askiff down to the water's edge.
Mrs. Heriot laughed and looked at Chris.
"Do we want Charon to row us on the Styx?" she asked.
Chris made a wry little face.
"I think we might be able to manage without his help," he said.
He gave her his hand and followed her into the skiff.
It was a perfect night. There was hardly a ripple on the water, andthe moon was rising in a gleam half-circle above the horizon.
Mrs. Heriot dabbled her hand in the cool water, and her d
iamondrings glittered like sparks of fire.
"Now, isn't this better than that horrid, stuffy old billiardroom?" she asked presently.
Chris frowned, and his friend's words, which he had forgotten forthe moment, came back with worrying insistence.
"It's no worse than the billiard room. . . . You spend too much ofyour time there. . . ."
What the deuce had Feathers meant?
"Did you hear what I said?" Mrs. Heriot demanded, and he rousedhimself with an effort.
"I heard--yes!"
"And don't you agree?"
Chris temporized. "Well, there's more air out here," he said.
She laughed lightly. "How you do hate to agree with anyone," shesaid. She leaned back and looked up at the sky.
"This reminds me of the nights in India," she said suddenly.
Chris made no comment, and she went on.
"It seems as if my life out there must all have been in anotherworld."
"Time passes so quickly, doesn't it?" said Chris absently.
He had never seen her in this mood before, and it rather bored him.
"I went out as soon as I was married," she went on, taking it forgranted that he was interested. "I was--oh, so young--younger thanMrs. Lawless, I should think!" She laughed rather bitterly. "Ithought I was going to be 'happy ever after,' as the story bookshave it, when I got married." She shrugged her shoulders. "That'swhat comes of marrying for money."
"You are very candid," Chris said amusedly.
"I am; I think it always pays, don't you?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I haven't thought about it."
"I have! And I know that people don't like me because I always saywhat I think."
"Don't they!" He drew in the sculls a little and, resting on them,fumbled for his cigarette case.
There was a little smile on his face. Mrs. Heriot was amusing himnow, though unconsciously.
She stretched out a white hand. "Give me a cigarette." Chris handedher his case, but she waved it away. "Don't be so ungallant! Lightit for me."
He did as she asked.
"Does your wife smoke?" she asked abruptly.
"No." He bent to the sculls again. "I'm afraid she's not verymodern."
She caught up the word quickly. "Afraid!"
Chris frowned. "I should have said 'glad,' perhaps." He correctedhimself rather shortly.
Mrs. Heriot looked at him in silence for a moment, then she said,energetically: "Don't let marriage turn you into a bore, Chris!"
"A bore!" He was so amazed that he dropped his cigarette. "Yes."She smiled teasingly. "It does that with most men, you know."
"I think I can promise you it will not do that with me," he saidrather warmly. "I have always loathed the idea of ordinary marriedlife, staying at home night after night, tied to a woman's apronstrings, dropping all one's pals . . ." He broke off, coloringwarmly. He had said a great deal more than he had intended, and heknew that she had purposely led him on to do so. "Don't you thinkwe had better be getting back?" he asked rather curtly.
"What, already?" she laughed, and, bending forward, looked at asmall jewelled watch on her wrist. "Why, it's not nine!" She turnedand looked out over the smooth sea. "Let's row out to that boat,"she said suddenly. She indicated a small anchored fishing smackwith furled sails that looked like a fairy ship in the path of themoonlight.
"We can get on board if there is nobody there. Do! It will be suchfun!"
Chris had the uncomfortable feeling that she expected him torefuse, and because he made it a rule never to do what he knew wasexpected of him he agreed. He pulled the little skiff about andmade for the anchored boat.
There was a light on her mast and a lantern tied to her bow, butapparently she was deserted.
Mrs. Heriot made a cup of her hands and called a long "Coo-ee."
"There's nobody on board," she said. "Go closer to her, Chris."
When they were near enough she stretched out her hand and caught ata rope hanging loosely at the side of the ship.
"It's a ladder!" she said excitedly. "Oh, we must go on board. It'sso romantic!"
"It's a fishing smack--it will be horribly dirty probably," Chrisobjected.
She was standing up, holding to its side.
"Of course it won't be." She looked around at him. "I believe youdon't want to come," she said laughing.
Chris drew in the sculls without another word and stood up.
"If you're so bent on trespassing," he said, and held out his hand.
They scrambled on board together and looked round. The ship wasquite deserted and rocking gently on the smooth water. Mrs. Heriotclapped her hands like a delighted child. She was quite a goodactress when she was in the mood and given the right environment.
"Isn't this lovely? It reminds me of the days when we used to hidein ruined castles when we were children."
She spoke as if ruined castles were to be met with in every streetof every suburban town.
"There's not much of a ruined castle about this," said Chris. Hewas not at all amused. He thought the whole adventure silly, whichmerely showed that he was not with the right woman and notinterested in the woman he was with.
The moon was high in the sky, and the twinkling lights of the townlooked a long way off, though very faintly in the distance theycould hear the sound of the band playing on the pier.
Chris listened apathetically, then suddenly he spoke.
"It must be late. They're playing 'God Save the King.'"
He looked at his watch--it was half-past ten.
"It's time we went back," he said. He wondered uncomfortably whatFeathers would say if he could see him now.
He went back to the side of the fishing smack where he had left theskiff, then he stifled an oath, for the painter he had fastenedloosely to the rope-ladder had come untied and the skiff haddrifted away.
Mrs. Heriot uttered a shrill scream when she saw what had happened.She was really not in the least frightened; she loved sensation andwhat she was pleased to call "thrills"; and it was rather excitingto find herself in such a predicament with a man as good-lookingand difficult as Christopher Lawless.
"Whatever shall we do?" she demanded in horror, and then, with aquick glance at his face: "Oh, you don't think that I let the boatgo on purpose?"
She had not done so, but probably would have done had it occurredto her. Chris answered vehemently that such an idea had neverentered his head, which was the truth. He was far too indifferentand unsuspecting to credit her with such an action.
"But what on earth are we to do?" she asked again, and Chrislaughed rather mirthlessly.
"I must swim out and bring it back, of course,"
He took off his coat as he spoke and Mrs. Heriot screamed afresh.
"You might be drowned! The water looks awful in the moonlight! Whatwill become of me here alone if anything happens to you?"
"Nothing will happen to me or you," said Chris impatiently, "and wecan't stay here all night, can we?"
He shook off her detaining hand and clambered up the ship's side.
Mrs. Heriot hid her face.
"I shall go mad if anything happens to you," she said hysterically.
Chris dived without answering.
He came up breathless and spluttering. The water was very cold, andhe was hampered by his clothes, but he got hold of the skiff anddragged it back to the ship's side, clambering up again by the ropeladder.
"You'll take your death of cold," said Mrs. Heriot tragically, butshe did not attempt to touch him again. In his drenched conditionhe did not look very romantic with his collar as limp as muslin andhis hair plastered down on his forehead.
"It was so brave of you," she murmured.
"It was folly ever to have come," Chris said. He steadied the skiffwhile she climbed back into it, then he followed and pushed off.
"What in the world will people say?" Mrs. Heriot askedhysterically.
Chris looked at her; his teeth were chattering a little.
>
"What can they say? It was an accident."
"I know, but they won't believe it. People are so uncharitable."
His face darkened.
"I don't understand you."
She looked a little ashamed.
"It is so late, and for you and I--to be out here alone . . ."
Chris pulled harder at the sculls; he knew there was something inwhat she said, but he answered doggedly:
"They must believe what they choose, that's all."
She covered her face with her hands.
"I can't face it," she whispered. "I've always hated scandal. And . . .oh, what will your wife think, Chris?"
Chris bit his lip; he had forgotten Marie.
"She will believe what I tell her," he answered at last quietly."And if you prefer it I can land you further down the beach awayfrom the hotel, so that nobody will know we were together. I daresay I can get in and change my things without being seen."
She broke out into gushing thanks.
"I never thought of that! Of course, it will be all Right! Nobodysaw us come out together. I can go in through the garden door."
"Very well." He did not speak again until they were close in shore.Then he said: "I can beach her here--you will not mind going backto the hotel alone?"
"Oh, no--but, Chris . . . you can't, you simply mustn't tell yourwife."
He looked up at her with cold eyes.
"I don't understand you,"
"I know you don't, because you're so nice, so straight. But can'tyou see--on your honeymoon! It will look so bad, and I'm sure shewill be jealous. People with dark eyes like hers are alwaysdreadfully jealous." Her eyes fell before his steady gaze. "Shewill hate me," she whispered. "And I don't deserve it--you knowthat."
There was a little silence, then---
"Very well," said Chris shortly. "I will not tell her." He waitedtill she was safely up the beach, then he pulled out to sea again,and came ashore lower down. The owner of the boat was not to beseen, and Chris tied it up securely and ran for the hotel. If onlyit had been a dark night, he thought as he ran. The cursed moonmade everything so light; but he got into the garden without beingseen, by keeping well in the shadow of trees and bushes, and hadalmost reached the door when he ran right into Feathers.
Chris swore under his breath. He would have gone on withoutspeaking, but Feathers caught his arm.
"Hullo!" And then: "Good Lord, Chris, you're soaking wet. Notanother accident, surely? Who have you pulled out--this time?"
"Myself. I went out in a skiff and the damned thing upset."
He told the lie badly and, conscious of the fact, he went onhurriedly: "Here, I want to change. I'm as cold as blazes. Youneedn't say anything to Marie--it will only upset her."
Feathers stood aside silently and Chris went up to his room.
He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He had a hot bathbefore he got into dry clothes.
Moonlight might be romantic, and all the rest of it, he toldhimself, but a moonlight bath was not exactly pleasant.
He cursed Mrs. Heriot under his breath and his own folly; he couldnot imagine what had possessed him to go out with her; hecongratulated himself for having bluffed Feathers, for he knewFeathers hated Mrs. Heriot.
He rang for a hot whisky and went to Marie's room. He could hearher moving about inside, and tapped at the door.
"Come in!"
He turned the handle. He wondered if he could explain things to heras effectually as he had done to Feathers; somehow he ratherdoubted it--Marie had a way of looking into his very soul.
She still wore the frock she had worn at dinner that night, and wassitting at the window looking out at the moonlight.
Chris went forward.
"Did you think I'd got lost?" he asked lightly. He stood besideher, leaning his shoulder against the window-frame.
"Did you play billiards, after all?" Marie asked. She did notanswer his question.
She was sitting with her back to the light, or he might have seenthe tear-stains on her face.
"No." He looked away from her and up at the moon with vindictiveeyes. "I took a skiff out and got upset" He laughed awkwardly.
"Got upset!" Her voice was full of alarm. "Oh, Chris, you mighthave been drowned!"
"When I was born to be hanged?" he queried. "Never, my child; butit was a cold bath I can tell you. I had to change and make myselfpresentable before I came to you. Well--how did you enjoy theconcert?"
"Very much." She told him a little about it; she had not enjoyed ita bit; her thoughts had been with him all the time, but she wouldhave died rather than let him guess it.
His handsome eyes searched her face; she looked wonderfully sweetand dainty in the moonlight, and with sudden impulse he stooped andtook her hand.
"It's a queer sort of honeymoon, Marie Celeste," he said ratherhoarsely.
He felt the little hand tremble in his and then suddenly lie verystill, but she did not speak, and he went on with an effort to getaway from the something tragic of which he was vaguely conscious.
"Are you sorry yet that you married me?"
She shook her head, "Of course not."
He let her hand go, chilled by her words.
"There are heaps of other fellows in the world--better than I, whowould have made you happier," he said.
She laughed at that; a little broken laugh of amusement.
"There is nobody else I would have married," she said faintly.
"You say that now, but you're such a kid! In a year or so you'llthink very differently."
"Perhaps you will, too," she told him with trembling lips.
Chris laughed scornfully.
"I! I've never been a woman's man, you know that."
She did know it, and was glad to know it. It was the one small rayof hope in her darkness that if he did not love her at least he hadnever loved anybody else.
She gave a long sigh of weariness.
"You're tired," said Chris, quickly. "I'll go. Don't sit by thewindow any more. It's getting cold, and you've got to be careful,you know."
"Very well," she said, as she rose obediently, and he drew thewindow down. They looked at one another silently, then Chris said:
"Good-night, Marie Celeste."
"Good-night." Her voice was almost inaudible, and, moved by someimpulse he could not explain, Chris laid his hands on hershoulders.
"Kiss me--will you?"
She turned her face away sharply.
"I'd--I'd rather not."
"Very well. Good-night."
He went out of the room without another word, and Marie stood wherehe had left her, staring helplessly at the closed door.
He had asked her to kiss him and she had refused--refused, thoughher whole heart and soul had longed to say "yes."
Had she been wrong? She did not know. She had tried so hard allalong to do only the best thing for his happiness, and yet she hadbeen miserably conscious of the hurt in his face as she turned herown away.
Should she go after him and ask him to come back? She longed, yetfeared to go. Perhaps he would only kiss her in the old carelessway as a brother might have done, and it was not that sort of kissshe wanted.
Half a loaf is better than no bread! The old proverb floatedmockingly before her. But half a loaf was no good to her, starvingfor love as she was; better die, she thought passionately, thanhave anything less than all.
Twice she went to the door and turned the handle, but each time shecame back again to pace the room restlessly.
He had not really wanted to kiss her, or he would not have asked.He would have taken it without waiting for so poor a thing as herpermission. Her cheeks burned as she thought of this humiliatingfortnight which people were calling her "honeymoon."
She had hardly seen Chris--it was Feathers who had been her chiefcompanion--good, kind Feathers, with his ugly face and his heart ofgold. Did he know, she wondered, what sort of a marriage hers was?If so, he had never let her guess by word or look that he knew, and
once more she fell back on her old desperate hope.
"I shall get used to it--I must get used to it."
She had been married a fortnight now--only fourteen days--but theyseemed like years. The pain had not lessened, and the weary, achingdisappointment was still as keen.
And sudden revolt rose in her mind. She had as much right to herhappiness as anyone else. After all, what was the use of strainingafter the unattainable? Why not take what the gods gave and bethankful?
She opened the door again and looked out on to the landing; sheknew that Chris' room was the one next to hers, with acommunicating door which she had locked on her side.
The outer door was not quite closed now, and she could see a thinstreak of light through the opening.
She drew the door of her room to behind her and stood there in thesubdued light of the passage, her heart beating fast, her lipsquivering nervously.
She had put out her hand tremblingly to knock at his door whensuddenly she heard his voice from within, speaking angrily:
"Look here. I'm not going to be lectured by you and that's final!The Lord only knows why you've suddenly climbed into the pulpitlike this. If you say you saw me with Mrs. Heriot it's no usedenying it, but it's nothing to do with you, and I'll thank you tomind your own confounded business. It was an accident that theskiff drifted away, I tell you! And it's a darned lucky thing Icould swim, or we should have been left on that infernal boat allnight! And then you would have had something to talk about, but asit is . . ." he broke off, and there followed the angry slamming ofa drawer.
Then Feathers spoke, quite quietly, and without any anger.
"It's no use losing your temper, Chris. It was the merest chancethat I happened to see you. As you say, it's no business of mine,but as Mrs. Heriot is the class of woman she is, I say that youought to tell your wife the truth. You can't trust Mrs. Heriot--she'll make the devil's own mischief one of these days."
Chris said "Rot!" with violence. "What do you mean, 'the class ofwoman Mrs. Heriot is'?--she's a friend of mine."
He did not care in the least what Feathers said of Mrs. Heriot, butthe sheer "cussedness" of his nature drove him to defend her; ifFeathers had adopted the other attitude Chris would have veeredround instantly.
But for once Feathers forgot to be tactful. He was burning withanger against his friend, more for Marie's sake than for any otherreason; he could not understand the circumstances of this marriageat all, though little by little he was beginning to see that therewas nothing of real affection about it.
He said again vehemently: "It's your duty to tell Mrs. Lawless thetruth! Supposing somebody else saw you besides myself? A nicegarbled version of it she might hear! It could be worked upproperly, I can tell you--moonlight night, and you two out there onan empty yacht, or smack, or whatever it was."
He laughed cynically. "What the devil you want to knock about withthat woman for, beats me! She's made up, she's bad form, she'severything objectionable."
Chris laughed defiantly. He was furious at being hauled over thecoals in such a manner, more especially as Feathers had never madethe slightest attempt to do such a thing before.
"She amuses me, anyway," he said, violently. "She doesn't bore meto death, as the rest of her sex do, and you can put that in yourpipe and smoke it."
The rest of her sex. The words hammered themselves into the numbedbrain of poor little Marie Celeste as she stood there in thepassage, not daring to move.
The rest of her sex. That included her then--that must include her!Oh, how could he be so cruel! How could he, when she loved him withevery beat of her heart?
She crept back into her room, feeling as if her husband's harshwords had been actual whips, beating her and bruising her.
He not only did not love her, but he preferred Mrs. Heriot! He hadbeen out there with her on the moonlit sea, while she . . . MarieCeleste fell face downwards on the bed, crushing her face into thepillow so that her broken-hearted sobbing might not penetrate thelocked door and reach her husband's ears. He hated tears so much!Scenes always made him so angry.
CHAPTER VIII
"The new is older than the old The newest friend is oldest friend in this, That waiting him we longest grieved to miss One thing we sought"