XXVII
A QUESTION
Edith Cortlandt did not retire immediately upon her return from theball. Her anger at Anthony's behavior kept her wakeful, and the nighthad turned off so dead and humid that sleep was in any case a doubtfulpossibility. It was the lifeless period between seasons when the tradeshad died out, or, at best, veered about bafflingly, too faint to offerrelief. The cooling rains had not set in as yet, and a great blanket ofheat wrapped the city in its smothering folds. The air was still andtainted, like that of a sick-room. Through Mrs. Cortlandt's openwindows came hardly a sound; even from the sea below rose only a fainthissing, as if the rocks at the water's edge were superheated. Earlierin the evening the temperature had been bearable, but now it hadreached an intensity to strain tired nerves to the snapping-point. Itwas the sort of night in which ailing children die and strong mindsfeel the burden of living. No relief was to be had, and the slightestphysical effort was a misery.
She was still sitting there at a late hour when she heard the outsidedoor close and Cortlandt's footsteps mounting the stairs. She was gladhe had his own room and never entered hers at such an hour, for even totalk with him in her present state of mind and body would have beenmore than she could bear.
She was unreasonably annoyed, therefore, when he came boldly into herchamber without even knocking, for all the world like a welcome lover.To conceal her irritation, she kept her face turned from him andcontinued fanning herself listlessly. She was reclining in a wickerchair, lightly clad in a filmy silk negligee, which she mechanicallydrew closer.
"Rather late for good-nights," she said, coldly.
"I've just come from Anthony's supper-party."
His voice made her look round sharply. She saw that his linen,ordinarily stiff and immaculate, was sodden and crumpled, his collarlimp, his forehead glistening with drops of moisture. She could notremember ever having seen him in such a state. His appearance affectedher queerly. In him this dishevelment was shocking.
"What ails you, Stephen?" she cried. "Have you been drinking?"
"No. I didn't drink much. I brought you something."
He took the loving-cup from its flannel bag and set it upon the table."They gave me this."
"It is very pretty, though I don't care for such things."
"And this too." He tossed the watch with its enamelled monogram intoher lap.
"Ah! That's very handsome."
"Yes, I thought you'd like it; it's from Anthony." He laughed, thenshuddered, as though a cold wind had bitten through his sodden garments.
"Why--you seem excited over these souvenirs. You surely expected--"
He broke in--a thing he rarely did while she was speaking:
"Anthony made a speech when he gave it to me--a very nice speech, fullof friendship and love and gratitude." He repeated Kirk's words as heremembered them, "What do you think of that?"
"I think he expressed himself very frankly. But why do you tell me now,when the morning will do just as well? I'm prostrated with this heat."
"He actually acknowledged his debt in public."
Mrs. Cortlandt's eyes widened. This was not the man she knew. At thismoment he was actually insistent, almost overbearing, and he wasregarding her with that same ironical sneer that had roused her angerearlier in the evening.
"Well, come to the point," she cried, irritably. "I don't understandwhat you are getting at. If you didn't wish to accept anything fromhim, why did you go?"
He began to chuckle, apparently without reason. His shoulders shook,feebly at first, then more violently; his flat chest heaved, and hehiccoughed as if from physical weakness. It was alarming, and she rose,staring at him affrightedly. The sight of her increased his mirthlesslaughter. He continued to shudder and shake in uncontrollable hysteria,but his eyes were bright and watchful.
"Oh, I--I--took it all in--I let him p-put the noose around his ownneck and tie the knot. Then I hung him." His convulsive giggling wasterrible, forecasting, as it did, his immediate breakdown.
"Stephen!" she exclaimed, in a shocked tone, convinced that his mindwas going. "You are ill, you need a doctor. I will call Joceel." Shelaid her hand on his arm.
But he sniggered: "N-no! No! I'm all right. I t-t-t-t--" Astuttering-fit seized him; then, with an effort of will, he calmedhimself. "Don't think I'm crazy. I was never more sane, never cooler,in here." He tapped his head with his finger. "But I'm tired, that'sall, tired of waiting."
"Won't you go to your room and let me call a doctor?"
"Not yet. Wait! He told them what I had done for him, how I'd made aman of him when he was broke and friendless, how I'd taken him into myhome like one of my family, and then I went him one better. Iacknowledged it all and made them hear it from my lips too. Then--" Hepaused, and she steeled herself to witness another spectacle of hispitiable loss of self-control. But instead he grew icy and corpse-like,with lips drawn back in a grin. "What do you think I said? Can't youguess? I couldn't let him get away with that, could I? I played withhim the way you have played with me. Think!"
Her face went suddenly ashen. He stood before her grimly triumphant,enjoying his sense of mastery and deliberately prolonging her suspense.
"Well, I told him before them all that I intended to give him somethingin return, and I did. I--gave--him--YOU."
She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
He nodded. "I said he'd had you from the first and that now I'd giveyou to him."
She gave an unintelligible cry, standing now, as if petrified. He wenton:
"I knew all the time that I was in the way, but my work is done atlast, so I'll step out. But--you both got more than you bargained for,didn't you?"
"God! You didn't tell him that? You didn't say THAT--before those men!Oh-h!" She shrank back, drawing the gauzy silk robe closer about herbreast. Her hands were shaking, her hair, which had fallen free whenshe rose, cascaded about her neck and shoulders. She let her eyeswander about the room as if to assure herself that this was not somehideous nightmare. Then she roused to sudden action. Seizing him by theshoulders she shook him roughly with far more than her naturalstrength, voicing furious words which neither of them understood.
"Oh, I did it," he declared. "He's yours now. You can have him. He'sbeen your lover--"
She flung him away from her so violently that he nearly fell.
"It's a lie! You know it's a lie!"
"It's true. I'm no fool."
She beat her hands together distractedly, "What have you done? Whatwill those men think? Listen! You must stop them quickly. Tell themit's not so."
He seemed not to hear her. "I'm going away to-morrow," he said, "butI'll never divorce you, no matter what you do; and I won't let youdivorce me, either. No, no! Take him now, if you want him, but you'llnever be able to marry him until I'm gone. And I won't die soon--Ipromise you that, I'm going to live."
"You can't go--"
"There's a boat to-morrow."
"Don't you see you must stay and explain to those men? My God! They'llthink you spoke the truth; they'll BELIEVE what you said."
"Of course they will," he chattered, shrilly. "That's why I did it inthat way. No matter what you or he or I can do or say now, they'llbelieve it forever. It came to me like a flash of light, and I saw whatit meant all in a minute. Do YOU understand what it means, eh? Listen!No matter how you behave, they'll know. They won't say anything, butthey'll know, and you can't stand that, can you? Even if you could foolme once more against the evidence of my own eyes and ears, and convinceme that your lies are true, it wouldn't do any good with them."
"'Evidence!' You have no evidence."
"No? What about that night at Taboga? You were mad over the fellowthen, but you didn't think I saw. That day I caught you together in thejungle--have you forgotten that? Didn't you think it strange that Ishould be the one to discover you? Oh, I pretended to be blind, but Ifollowed you everywhere I could, and I kept my eyes open."
"You saw nothing, for there was nothing."
"H
e's been with you day and night. You have been together constantly,and I knew what was going on. But I waited, because I wasn't strongenough to revolt--until to-night. Oh, but to-night I was strong!Something gave me courage."
In all their married life she had never known him to show such stubbornforce. He was like granite, and the unbelievable change in him,upsetting all her preconceived notions of the man, appalled her. Therehad been times in the past when they had clashed, but he had neverreally matched his will with hers, and she had judged him weak andspiritless. Now, therefore, failing to dominate him as usual, she wasfilled with a strange feeling of helplessness and terror.
"You had no right to accept such evidence," she stormed.
"Bah! Why try to fool me? I have your own words for it. The otherafternoon I came home sick--with my head. I was on the gallery outsidewhen you were pleading with him, and I heard it all. You talked thatnight about Taboga, your guilty kisses and other things; youacknowledged everything. But he was growing tired of you. That, youknow, makes it all the more effective." He smiled in an agonized fury.
"You--cur!" she cried, with the fury of one beating barehanded at abarred door. "You had no right to do such a thing even if I wereguilty."
"Right? Aren't you my wife?"
The look she gave him was heavy with loathing. "That means nothing withus. I never loved you, and you know it. You know, too, why I marriedyou. I made no secret of it at the time. You had what I wanted, and Ihad what you wanted; but you were content with the bargain because Igave you money, position, and power. I never promised anything morethan that. I made you into something like a man. You never could havesucceeded without me. All you have is due to me--even your reputationin the service. Your success, your influence, it is all mine, and theonly thing you gave me was a name; any other would have done as well."
He shrank a little under this tirade, despite his exaltation.
"Marriage!" she continued, in bitter scorn. "A priest mumbled somethingover us, but it meant nothing then or now. I have tolerated you becauseyou were useful. I have carried you with me as I carry a maid or abutler. I bought a manikin and dressed it up and put breath into it formy own convenience, and I owe you nothing, do you understand--nothing!The debt is all on your side, as you and I and all the world know."
"Who made me a manikin?" he demanded, with womanish fury, a fury thathad been striving for utterance these many years. "I had ambitions andhopes and ability once--not much, perhaps, but enough--before youmarried me. I was nothing great, but I was getting along. I hadconfidence, too, but you took it away from me. You--you absorbed me.You had your father's brain, and it was too big for me; it overshadowedmine. In a way you were a vampire; for what I had you drained me of. Atfirst it was terrible to feel that I was inferior, but I loved you, andalthough I had some pride--" He choked an instant and threw back herincredulous stare defiantly. "I let myself be eliminated. You thoughtyou were doing me a favor when you put me forward as a figurehead, butto me it was a tragedy. I COULDN'T HELP LETTING YOU DO IT. Do yourealize what that means to a fellow? I quit fighting for my ownindividuality, I became colored by you, I took on your ways, yourhabits, your mental traits, and--all the time I knew what washappening. God! How I struggled to remain Stephen Cortlandt, but itwould have taken a BIG man to mould you to his ways, and I was onlyaverage. I began to do your work in your particular style; I forgot myambitions and my dreams and took up yours. That's what I fell to, andall the time I KNEW it, and--and all the time I knew you neither carednor understood. My only consolation was the thought that even thoughyou never had loved me and never could, you at least respected ourrelation. I clung to that miserably, for it was all I had left, allthat made me seem like a man. And yet you took away even that. I triedto rebel, but I had been drugged too long. You saw Anthony, and he hadthe things I lack; you found you were not a machine, but a livingwoman. He discovered the secret I had wasted away in searching for, andyou rewarded him. Oh, I saw the change in you quickly enough, and ifI'd been a man instead of what I was, I'd have--but I wasn't. I wentspying around like a woman, hating myself for permitting it to go on,but lacking strength to stop it. But to-night, when he got up beforethose other men and dangled my shame before my eyes, I had enoughmanhood left in me to strike back. Thank God for that at least! Maybeit's not too late yet; maybe if I get away from you and try--" Hisvoice died out weakly; in his face there was a miserable half-gleam ofhope.
"I never knew you felt like that. I never knew you COULD feel thatway," she said, in a colorless voice. "But you made a terrible mistake."
"Do you mean to say you don't love him?"
"No, I have loved him for a long time--I can't remember when it began."She spoke very listlessly, looking past him as if at a long-familiarpicture which she was tired of contemplating. "I never knew what lovewas before; I never even dreamed. I'd give my life right now--to undowhat you have done, just for his sake, for he is innocent. Oh, don'tsneer; it's true. He loves the Garavel girl, and wants to marry her."
"I know all that. I overheard you in the parlor below."
"Listen, please! I don't remember what I said then, and it doesn'tmatter; you took too much for granted. We must talk plainly now,before"--she pressed her palms to her temples as if they werebursting--"before it becomes impossible. I never lied to you, Stephen.Is that true?"
"I used to think so."
"I'm going to tell you the whole truth now without sparing myself. Itbegan, I think, at Taboga, that night when he kissed me. It was theonly time he ever did such a thing. It was dark, we were alone, I wasfrightened, and it was purely impulse on his part. But it woke me up,and all at once I knew how much he meant to me. I would have yieldedutterly to him then if he had let me, but he was panic-stricken. Hespoke of you, he apologized; I never saw a man in more misery. When Ihad time to realize the truth I tried to fight it off. But it was nouse, and at last I gave up. After that I put myself in his waydeliberately. I offered him opportunities continually, but he neverseemed to see them. That day in the jungle I was desperate at hisindifference, and I drove the horses away when he wasn't looking. Istruck them with my crop--and I actually threw myself at him as boldlyas I could, regardless of consequences. But he was like ice; he wasspeaking of you when you came. It has always been the same. When Idiscovered that he cared for that girl--well, if you overheard you mustknow. I frightened Garavel into dismissing him, and I set out to breakhim, just to show him that he needed me. To-night I offered to divorceyou and make him all and more than I've made you, but he scorned me.That's the truth, Stephen. If we believed in oaths, I would swear it."
No one who knew the woman could have disbelieved her, and to thehusband who knew her every mental and moral trait this bald, hopelessconfession came as a crushing anti-climax to his great effort. It lefthim not the slightest doubt that she was honest. He said, dully, in afeeble attempt to right himself:
"You are shielding him. You want to make me out wrong." But she knew heknew.
"Those are the facts. Heaven knows they are bad enough, but they are byno means so bad as you thought. And I'm your wife, Stephen. That thingyou did was brutal; those men will talk. I was guilty, no doubt, in mythoughts, but I'm young, and you have no right to blight my life and myreputation--yes, and yours--by a thing like that. We will have to meetthose men. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," he said. "In all my life I never felt but one moment ofpower, and that, it seems, was false. For years I have longed to showmyself a man, and now--what have I done? What have I done? I am nomonster." He moaned and sank limply into a chair, folding together inan attitude of dejection that was pitiful. He raised his head and brokeout at her in a last spasm of desperation, as a dying ember flares evenwhile it crumbles. "My God! why couldn't you be consistent? Why did yougo half-way? Why couldn't you be all good or all bad and save me this?"
"All women are half good and half bad."
"I can't blame you for not loving me, I suppose," he mumbled. "No womanof your kind could love a man like m
e."
"Those men!" she said, in a way that made him writhe.
"Wait until I--think. I must think."
"You can't think now, and neither can I."
"We must." He wrung his hands. "They'll never believe me--" There was along silence.
"Perhaps in the morning we can see a way out."
"That's it." He nodded. "You go to bed and I'll think. I'm trying tothink now, but this heat is suffocating me and my head is tired." Hebrushed a hand feebly across his brow. "If it would only rain I--couldthink better."
"Yes, and we must think of Anthony, too. No matter how you blame me,you must realize that he was innocent, and perhaps, after all, he isthe one that you wronged deepest. He will have to meet those men, andthey were his friends."
Despite the breathless oppression of the night, she shivered. "_I_never can meet them now, and I don't see how you will dare to, knowingthat you were wrong."
"Don't!" he pleaded. "The other was bad enough, but this--Tell me whatto do!"
"I can't. I don't know myself. All I can see is that those men willnever cease to believe, no matter what you tell them." She groped herway to the window, but there was no relief even in the open air.By-and-by she heard him sigh, then rise and say "Good-night."
As she prepared for bed an hour later she heard him still stirringabout in his quarters, but afterward, as she lay staring into the blacknight, she was so busied with the frightful fancies that swarmed abouther that she did not detect his cautious footsteps when he stole out ofhis chamber, closing the door softly behind him.