CHAPTER XI
Nobody, apparently, was yet astir; not a breakfast tray had yet tinkledalong the dusky corridors when Desboro, descending the stairs in the dimmorning light, encountered Jacqueline coming from the general directionof the east wing, her arms loaded with freshly cut white carnations.
"Good morning," he whispered, in smiling surprise, taking her and hercarnations into his arms very reverently, almost timidly.
She endured the contact shyly and seriously, as usual, bending her headaside to avoid his lips.
"Do you suppose," he said laughingly, "that you could ever bringyourself to kiss me, Jacqueline?"
She did not answer, and presently he released her, saying: "You neverhave yet; and now that we're engaged----"
"Engaged!"
"You _know_ we are!"
"Is that what you think, Jim?"
"Certainly! I asked you to marry me----"
"No, dear, _I_ asked _you_. But I wasn't certain you had quite acceptedme----"
"Are you laughing at me?"
"I don't know--I don't know what I am doing any more; laughter and tearsseem so close to each other--sometimes--and I can never be certain whichit is going to be any more."
Her eyes remained grave, but her lips were sweet and humourous as shestood there on the stairs, her chin resting on the sheaf of carnationsclasped to her breast.
"What is troubling you, Jacqueline?" he asked, after a moment's silence.
"Nothing. If you will hold these flowers a moment I'll decorate you."
He took the fragrant sheaf from her; she selected a magnificent whiteblossom, drew the stem through the lapel of his coat, patted the flowerinto a position which suited her, regarded the effect critically, thenglanced up out of her winning blue eyes and found him watching herdreamily.
"I try to realise it, and I can't," he said vaguely. "Can you, dear?"
"Realise what?" she asked, in a low voice.
"That we are engaged."
"Are you so sure of me, Jim?"
"Do you suppose I could live life through without you _now_?"
"I don't know. Try it for two minutes anyway; these flowers must standin water. Will you wait here for me?"
He stepped forward to aid her, but she passed him lightly, avoiding histouch, and sped across the corridor. In a few minutes she returned andthey descended the stairs together, and entered the empty library. Sheleaned back against the table, both slender hands resting on the edgebehind her, and gazed out at the sparrows in the snow. And she did noteven appear to notice his arm, which ventured around her waist, or hislips resting against the lock of bright hair curling on her cheek, soabsorbed she seemed to be in her silent reflections.
After a few moments she said, still looking out of the window: "I musttell you something now."
"Are you going to tell me that you love me?"
"Yes--perhaps I had better begin that way."
"Then begin, dearest."
"I--I love you."
His arm tightened around her, but she gently released herself.
"There is a--a little more to say, Jim. I love you enough to give youback your promise."
"My promise!"
"To marry me," she said steadily. "I scarcely knew what I was sayingyesterday--I was so excited, so much in love with you--so fearful thatyou might sometime be unhappy if things continued with us as theythreatened to continue. I'm afraid I overvalued myself--made you suspectthat I am more than I really am--or can ever be. Besides, I frightenedyou--and myself--unnecessarily. I never could be in any danger of--ofloving you--unwisely. It was not perfectly fair to you to hint such athing--because, after all, there is a third choice for you. A worthyone. For you _could_ let me go my way out of your life, which is alreadyso full, and which would fill again very easily, even if my absence lefta little void for a while. And if it was any kind of pity you felt forme--for what I said to you--that stirred you to--ask of me what I beggedyou to ask--then I give you back your promise. I have not slept forthinking over it. I must give it back."
He remained silent for a while, then his arms slipped down around herbody and he dropped on one knee beside her and laid his face closeagainst her. She had to bend over to hear what he was saying, he spokeso low and with such difficulty.
"How can you care for me?" he said. "How _can_ you? Don't you understandwhat a beast I was--what lesser impulse possessed me----"
"Hush, Jim! Am I different?"
"Good God! Yes!"
"No, dear."
"You don't know what you're saying!"
"_You_ don't know. Do you suppose I am immune to--to the--lesserlove--at moments----"
He lifted his head and looked up at her, dismayed.
"You!"
"I. How else could I understand _you_?"
"Because you are so far above everything unworthy."
"No, dear. If I were, you would only have angered and frightened me--notmade me sorry for us both. Because women and men are something alike atmoments; only, somehow, women seem to realise that--somehow--they areguardians of--of something--of civilisation, perhaps. And it is theirinstinct to curb and silence and ignore whatever unworthy threatens itor them. It is that way with us, Jim."
She looked out of the window at the sky and the trees, and stoodthinking for a while. Then: "Did you suppose it is always easy for agirl in love--whose instinct is to love--and to give? Especially such agirl as I am, especially when she is so dreadfully afraid that her lovermay think her cold-blooded--self-seeking--perhaps a--a schemer----"
She covered her face with her hand--the quick, adorable gesture he knewso well.
"I--_did_ ask you to marry me," she said, in a stifled voice, "but I amnot a schemer; my motive was not self-interest. It was for you I askedit, Jim, far more than for myself--or I never could have found thecourage--perhaps not even the wish. Because, somehow, I am too proud towish for anything that is not offered."
As he said nothing, she broke out suddenly with a little sob of protestin her voice: "I am _not_ a self-seeking, calculating woman! I am notnaturally cold and unresponsive! I am--inclined to be--otherwise. Andyou had better know it. But you won't believe it, I am afraid, becauseI--I have never responded to--to you."
Tears fell between her fingers over the flushed cheeks. She spoke withincreasing effort: "You don't understand; and I can't explain--except tosay that to be demonstrative seemed unworthy in me."
He put his arms around her shoulders very gently; she rested herforehead against his shoulder.
"Don't think me calculating and cold-blooded--or a fool," she whispered."Probably everybody kisses or is kissed. I know it as well as you do.But I haven't the--effrontery--to permit myself--such emotions. Icouldn't, Jim. I'd hate myself. And I thought of that, too, when I askedyou to marry me. Because if you had refused--and--matters had goneon--you would have been sorry for me sooner or later--or perhaps hatedme. Because I would have been--been too much ashamed of myself tohave--loved you--unwisely."
He stood with head bent, listening; and, as he listened, the comparisonbetween this young girl and himself forced itself into his unwillingmind--how that all she believed and desired ennobled her, and how whathad always governed him had made of him nothing more admirable than whathe was born, a human animal. For what he began as he still was--onlycleverer.
What else was he--except a trained animal, sufficiently educated to keepout of jail? What had he done with his inheritance? His body was saneand healthy; he had been at pains to cultivate that. How was it with hismind? How was it with his spiritual beliefs? Had he cultivated and addedto either? He had been endowed with a brain. Had he made of it anythingexcept an instrument for idle caprice and indolent passions to playupon?
"Do you understand me now?" she whispered, touching wet lashes with herhandkerchief.
He replied impetuously, hotly; her hands dropped from her face and shelooked up at him with sweet, confused eyes, blushing vividly under hispraise of her.
He spoke of himself, too, with a
ll the quick, impassioned impulse ofyouthful emotion, not sparing himself, promising better things, vowingthem before the shrine of her innocence. Yet, a stronger character mighthave registered such vows in silence. And his fervour and incoherenceleft her mute; and after he had ceased to protest too much she stoodquiet for a while, striving to search herself so that nothing unworthyshould remain--so that heart and soul should be clean under the magicveil of happiness descending before her enraptured eyes.
Gently his arms encircled her; her clasped hands rested on his shoulder,and she gazed out at the blue sky and sun-warmed snow as at a corner ofparadise revealed.
Later, when the household was astir, she went out with him into thegreenhouse, where the enchanted stillness of growing things thrilledher, and the fragrance and sunlight made the mystery of love and itsmiracle even more exquisitely unreal to her.
At first they did not speak; her hand lay loosely in his, her blue eyesremained remote; and together they slowly paced the long, glass-sheetedgalleries between misty, scented mounds of bloom, to and fro, under theflood of pallid winter sunshine, pale as the yellow jasmine flowersoverhead.
After a while a fat gardener came into one of the further wings.Presently the sound of shovelled coal from the furnace-pit aroused themfrom their dream; and they looked at each other gravely.
After a moment, he said: "Does it make a difference to you, Jacqueline,what I was before I knew you?"
"No."
"I was only wondering what you really think of me."
"You know already, Jim."
He shook his head slowly.
"Jim! Of course you know!" she insisted hotly. "What you may have beenbefore I knew you I refuse to consider. Anyway, it was _you_--part ofyou--and belongs to me now! Because I choose to make it mine--all thatyou were and are--good and evil! For I won't give up one atom ofyou--even to the devil himself!"
He tried to laugh: "What a fierce little partisan you are," he said.
"Very--where it concerns you," she said, unsmiling.
"Dear--I had better tell you now; you may hear things about me----"
"I won't listen to them!"
"No; but one sometimes hears without listening. People may say things.They _will_ say things. I wish I could spare you. If I had known--if Ihad only known--that you were in the world----"
"Don't, Jim! It--it isn't best for me to hear. It doesn't concern me,"she insisted excitedly. "And if anybody dares say one word to me----"
"Wait, dear. All I want to be sure of is that you _do_ love me enoughto--to go on loving me. I want to be certain, and I want you to becertain before you are a bride----"
She was growing very much excited, and suddenly near to tears, for theone thing that endangered her self-control seemed to be his doubt ofher.
"There is nothing that I haven't forgiven you," she said. "Nothing!There is nothing I won't forgive--except--one thing----"
"What?"
"I can't say it. I can't even think it. All I know is that _now_ Icouldn't forgive it." Suddenly she became perfectly quiet.
"I know what you mean," he said.
"Yes. It is what no wife can forgive." She looked at him, clear eyed,intelligent, calm; for the moment without any illusion; and he seemed tofeel that, in the light of what she knew of him, she was coolly weighingthe danger of the experiment. Never had he seen so cold and lustrous abrow, such limpid clarity of eye, searching, fearless, direct. Then, inan instant, it all seemed to melt into flushed and winsome loveliness;and she was murmuring that she loved him, and asking pardon for even onesecond's hesitation.
"It never could be; it is unthinkable," she whispered. "And it is toolate anyway for me--I would love you now, whatever you killed in me.Because I must go on loving you, Jim; for that is the way it is with me,and I know it now. As long as there is life in me I'll strive for you inmy own fashion--even against yourself--to keep you for mine, to pleaseyou, to be to you and to the world what you wish me to be--for yourhonour and your happiness--which also must be my own--the onlyhappiness, now, that I can ever understand."
He held her in his arms, smoothing the bright hair, touching the whitebrow with his lips at moments, happy because he was so deeply in love,fearful because of it--and, deep in his soul, miserable, afraid lestaught out of his past life return again to mock her--lest some echo offolly offend her ears--some shadow fall--some phantom of dead days risefrom their future hearth to stand between them.
It is that way with a man who has lived idly and irresponsibly, and whohas gone lightly about the pleasure of life and not its business. Forsometimes there arrives an hour of unbidden clairvoyance--notnecessarily a spiritual awakening--but a moment of balanced intelligenceand sanity and clear vision. And when it arrives, the road to yesterdaysuddenly becomes visible for its entire length; and when a man looksback he sees it stretching away behind him, peopled with every shapethat has ever traversed it, and every spectre that ever has haunted it.
Sorrow for what need not have been, regret and shame for what hadbeen--and the bitterness of the folly--the knowledge, too late, of whathe could have been to the girl he held now in his arms--how he couldhave met her on more equal terms had he saved his youth and strength andinnocence and pride for her alone--how he could have given it unsulliedinto her keeping. All this Desboro was beginning to realise now. Andmany men have realised it when the tardy understanding came too late.For what has been is still and will be always; and shall appear here orhereafter, or after that--somewhere, sometime, inevitably, inexorably.There is no such thing as expunging what has been, or of erasing what isto be. All records stand; hope lies only in lengthening the endlesschapters--chapters which will not be finished when the sun dies, and themoon fails, and the stars go out forever.
* * * * *
Walking slowly back together, they passed Herrendene in the wing hall,and his fine and somewhat melancholy face lighted up at the encounter.
"I'm _so_ sorry you are going to-day," said Jacqueline, with all herimpulsive and sweet sincerity. "Everybody will miss you and wish youhere again."
"To be regretted is one of the few real pleasures in life," he said,smiling. His quick eye had rested on Desboro and then reverted to her,and his intuition was warning him with all the brutality and finality ofreason that his last hope of her must end.
Desboro said: "I hate to have you go, Herrendene, but I suppose youmust."
"Must you?" echoed Jacqueline, wistful for the moment. But theirresistible radiance of happiness had subtly transfigured her, andHerrendene looked into her eyes and saw the new-born beauty in them,shyly apparent.
"Yes," he said, "I must be about the business of life--the business oflife, Miss Nevers. Everybody is engaged in it; it has many names, butit's all the same business. You, for example, pass judgment on beautifulthings; Desboro, here, is a farmer, and I play soldier with sword anddrum. But it's all the same business--the business of life; and one canwork at it or idle through it, but never escape it, because, at thelast, every soul in the world must die in harness. And the idlest arethe heaviest laden." He laughed. "That's quite a sermon, isn't it, MissNevers? And shall I make my adieux now? Were you going anywhere? You seeI am leaving Silverwood directly after breakfast----"
"As though Mr. Desboro and I would go off anywhere and not say good-byeto _you_!" she exclaimed indignantly, quite unconscious of being tooobvious.
So they all three returned to the breakfast room together, whereClydesdale, who had come over from the Hammertons' for breakfast, wasalready tramping hungrily around the covered dishes on the sideboard,hot plate in hand, evidently meditating a wholesale assault. He grinnedaffably as Jacqueline and Desboro came in, and they all helpedthemselves from the warmers, returning laden to the table with whateversuited their fancy. Other guests, to whom no trays had been sent,arrived one after another to prowl around the browse and join in theconversation if they chose, or sulk, as is the fashion with someperfectly worthy souls at breakfast-tide.
"This thaw se
ttles the skating for good and all," remarked ReggieLedyard. "Will you go fishing with me, Miss Nevers? It's our last day,you know."
Cairns growled over his grape-fruit: "You can't make dates with MissNevers at the breakfast table. It isn't done. I was going to ask her todo something with me, anyway."
"I hate breakfast," said Van Alstyne. "When I see it I always wish Iwere dead or that everybody else was. Zooks! This cocktail helps some!Try one, Miss Nevers."
"There's reason in your grouch," remarked Bertie Barkley, with hishard-eyed smile, "considering what Aunt Hannah and I did to you andHelsa at auction last night."
"Aunt Hannah will live in luxury for a year on it," added Cairnsmaliciously. "Doesn't it make you happy, Stuyve?"
"Oh--blub!" muttered Van Alstyne, hating everybody and himself--and mostof all hating to think of his losses and of the lady who caused them.Only the really rich know how card losses rankle.
Cairns glanced banteringly across at Jacqueline. It was his form of witto quiz her because she neither indulged in cocktails nor cigarettes,nor played cards for stakes. He lifted his eyebrows and tapped thefrosted shaker beside him significantly.
"I've a new kind of mountain dew, warranted to wake the dead, MissNevers. I call it the 'Aunt Hannah,' in her honour--honour to whomhonour is dew," he added impudently. "Won't you let me make you acocktail?"
"Wait until Aunt Hannah hears how you have honoured her and tempted me,"laughed Jacqueline.
"I never tempted maid or wife Or suffragette in all my life----"
sang Ledyard, beating time on Van Alstyne, who silently scowled hisdispleasure.
Presently Ledyard selected a grape-fruit, with a sour smile at one ofDesboro's cats which had confidently leaped into his lap.
"Is this a zoo den in the Bronx, or a breakfast room, Desboro? I onlyask because I'm all over cats."
Bertie Barkley snapped his napkin at an intrusive yellow pup who wassniffing and wagging at his elbow.
Jacqueline comforted the retreating animal, bending over and crooning inhis floppy ear:
"They gotta stop kickin' my dawg aroun'."
"What do _you_ care what they do to Jim's live stock, Miss Nevers?"demanded Ledyard suspiciously.
She laughed, but to her annoyance a warmer colour brightened her cheeks.
"Heaven help us!" exclaimed Reggie. "Miss Nevers is blushing at thebreakfast table. Gentlemen, _are_ we done for without even suspectingit? And by that--that"--pointing a furious finger at Desboro--"_that_!"
"Certainly," said Desboro, smiling. "Did you imagine I'd ever let MissNevers escape from Silverwood?"
Ledyard heaved a sigh of relief: "Gad," he muttered, "I suspected youboth for a moment. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Every man here would havemurdered you in turn. Come on, Miss Nevers; you've made a big splashwith me, and I'll play you a game of rabbit--or anything on earth, ifyou'll let me run along beside you."
"No, I'm driving with Captain Herrendene to the station," she said; andthat melancholy soldier looked up in grateful surprise.
And she did go with him; and everybody came out on the front steps towish him _bon voyage_.
"Are you coming back, Miss Nevers?" asked Ledyard, in pretended alarm.
"I don't know. Is Manila worth seeing, Captain Herrendene?" she asked,laughingly.
"If you sail for Manila with that tin soldier I'll go after you in ahydroplane!" called Reggie after them, as the car rolled away. He addedfrankly, for everybody's benefit: "I hate any man who even looks at her,and I don't care who knows it. But what's the use? Going to night-schoolmight help me, but I doubt it. No; she's for a better line of goods thanthe samples at Silverwood. She shines too far above us. Mark that, JamesDesboro! And take what comfort you can in your reflected glory. For hadshe not been the spotlight, you'd look exactly like the rest of us. Andthat isn't flattering anybody, I'm thinking."
It was to be the last day of the party. Everybody was leaving directlyafter luncheon, and now everybody seemed inclined to do nothing inparticular. Mrs. Clydesdale came over from the Hammerton's. The air wassoft and springlike; the snow in the fields was melting and full ofgolden pools. People seemed to be inclined to stroll about outdoorswithout their hats; a lively snowball battle began between CaryClydesdale on one side and Cairns and Reggie Ledyard on the other--andgradually was participated in by everybody except Aunt Hannah, whogrimly watched it from the library window. But her weather eye neverleft Mrs. Clydesdale.
She was still standing at the window when somebody entered the librarybehind her, and somebody else followed. She knew who they were; thecurtains screened her. For one second the temptation to listen besether, but she put it away with a sniff, and had already turned todisclose herself when she heard Mrs. Clydesdale say something thatstiffened her into a rigid silence.
What followed stiffened her still more--and there were only a few words,too--only:
"For God's sake, what are you thinking of?" from Desboro; and from ElenaClydesdale:
"This has got to end--I can't stand it, Jim----"
"Stand what?"
"Him! And what you are doing!"
"Be careful! Do you want people to overhear us?" he said, in a low voiceof concentrated anger.
"Then where----"
"I don't know. Wait until these people leave----"
"To-night?"
"How can we see each other to-night!"
"Cary is going to New York----"
Voices approaching through the hall warned him:
"All right, to-night," he said, desperately. "Go out into the hall."
"To-night, Jim?"
"Yes."
She turned and walked out into the hall. He heard her voice calmlyjoining in the chatter now approaching, and, without any reason, hewalked to the window. And found Mrs. Hammerton there.
Astonishment and anger left him dumb and scarlet to the roots of hishair.
"It isn't my fault," she hissed. "You and that other fool had alreadycommitted yourselves before I could stir to warn you. What do I care foryour vile little intrigues, anyway! I don't have to listen behindcurtains to learn what anybody could have seen at the MetropolitanOpera----"
"You are absolutely mistaken----"
"No doubt, James. But whether I am or not makes absolutely no differenceto me--or to Jacqueline Nevers----"
"What do you mean by that?"
"What I say, exactly. It will make no difference to Jacqueline, becauseyou are going to keep your distance."
"Do you think so?"
"If you don't keep away from her I'll tell her a few things. Listen tome very carefully, James. You think I'm fond of you, don't you? Well, Iam. But I've taken a fancy to Jacqueline Nevers that--well, if I werenot childless I might feel it less deeply. I've put my arms around heronce and for all. Now do you understand?"
"I tell you," he said steadily, "you are mistaken in believing----"
"Very well. Granted. What of it? One dirty little intrigue more or lessdoesn't alter what you are and have been. The plain point of the matteris this, James: you are not fit to aspire seriously to JacquelineNevers. Are you? I ask you, now, honestly; are you?"
"Does that concern you?"
She fairly snapped her teeth and her eyes sparkled:
"Yes; it concerns me! Keep away! I warn you--you and the rest of theJacks and Reggies and similar assorted pups. Your hunting ground iselsewhere."
A sort of cold fury possessed him: "You had better not say anything toMiss Nevers about what you overheard in this room," he said in acolourless voice.
"I'll use my own judgment," she retorted tartly.
"Use mine. It is perhaps better. Don't interfere."
"Don't be a fool, James."
"Will you listen to me----"
"About Elena Clydesdale?" she asked maliciously.
"There is nothing to tell about her."
"Naturally. I never heard the Desboros were blackguards--only a trifleairy, James--a trifle gallant! Dear child, don't anger me. You know itwouldn't be well f
or you."
"I ask you merely to mind your business."
"That I shall do. My life's business is Jacqueline. You yourself madeher so----" Malice indescribable snapped in her tiny black eyes, and shelaughed harshly. "You made that motherless girl my business. Askyourself if you've ever, inadvertently, done as decent a thing?"
"Do you understand that I wish to marry her?" he asked, white withpassion.
"_You!_ What do I care what your patronising intentions may be? And,James, if you drive me to it----" she fairly glared at him, "--I'lldestroy even your acquaintanceship with her. And I possess the means todo it!"
"Try it!" he motioned with dry lips.
A moment later the animated chatter of young people filled the room, andamong them sounded Jacqueline's voice.
"Oh!" she said, laughing, when she saw Mrs. Hammerton and Desboro comingfrom the embrasure of the window. "Have you been flirting again, AuntHannah!"
"Yes," said the old lady grimly, "and I think I've taken him into camp."
"Then it's my turn," said Jacqueline. "Come on, Mr. Desboro, you can'tescape me. I'm going to beat you a game of rabbit!"
Everybody drifted into the billiard-room at their heels, and found themalready at their stations on either side of the pool table, each onecovering the side pocket with left hand spread wide. Jacqueline had thecue-ball; it lay on the cloth in front of her, and her slim right handcovered it.
"Ready?" she asked of Desboro.
"Ready," he said, watching her.
She made a feint; he sprang to the left; she shot the ball toward theright corner pocket, missed, carromed, and tried to recover it; butDesboro's arm shot out across the cloth and he seized it and shot it ather left corner pocket. It went in with a plunk!
"One for Jim!" said Reggie gravely, and, picking up a cue, scored with abutton overhead.
"Plunk!" went the ball again into the same pocket; and Jacqueline gave alittle cry of dismay as Desboro leaned far over the table, threatening,feinting, moving the ball so fast she could scarcely follow his hand.Then she thought she saw the crisis coming, sprang toward the leftcorner pocket, gave a cry of terror, and plunk! went the ball into herside pocket.
Flushed, golden hair in pretty disorder, she sprang back on guard again,and the onlookers watched the movement of her hands, fascinated by theirgrace and beauty as she defended her side of the table and, finally,snatched the ball from the very jaws of the right corner.
It was a breathless, exciting game, even for rabbit, and was fought to afurious finish; but she went down to defeat, and Desboro came around thetable to condole with her, and together they stepped aside to leave thearena free for Katharine Frere and Reggie.
"I'm so sorry, dear," he said under his breath.
"It's what I want, Jim. Never let me take the lead again--in anything."
His laugh was not genuine. He glanced across the room and saw AuntHannah pretending not to watch him. Near her stood Elena Clydesdalebeside her husband, making no such pretence.
He said in a low voice: "Jacqueline, would you marry me as soon as I canget a license--if I asked you to do it?"
She blushed furiously; then walked over to the window and gazed out,dismayed and astounded. He followed.
"Will you, dear? I have the very best of reasons for asking you."
"Could you tell me the reasons, Jim?" she asked, still dazed.
"I had rather not--if you don't mind. Will you trust me when I say it isbetter for us to marry quietly and at once?"
She looked up at him dumbly, the scarlet slowly fading from brow andcheek.
"Do you trust me?" he repeated.
"Yes--I trust you."
"Will you marry me, then, as soon as I can arrange for it?"
She was silent.
"Will you?" he urged.
"Jim--darling--I wanted to be equipped--I wanted to have some prettythings, in order to--to be at my very best--for you. A girl is a brideonly once in her life; a man remembers her as she came to him first."
"Dearest, as I saw you first, so I will always think of you."
"Oh, Jim! In that black gown and cuffs and collar!"
"You don't understand men, dear. No coronation robe ever could competewith that dress in my affections. You always are perfect; I never sawyou when you weren't bewitching----"
"But, dear, there are other things----"
"We'll buy them together!"
"Jim, _must_ we do it this way? I don't mean that I wished for anyostentation----"
"I did! I would have wished for a ceremony suited to your beautyand----"
"No, no! I didn't expect----"
"But I did--damn it!" he said between his teeth. "I wished it; Iexpected it. Don't you think I know what a girl ought to have? Indeed Ido, Jacqueline. And in New York town another century will never see abride to compare with you! But, my darling, I cannot risk it!"
"Risk it?"
"Don't ask me any more."
"No."
"And--will you do it--for my sake?"
"Yes."
There was a silence between them; he lighted a cigarette, turned coollyaround, and glanced across the room. Elena instantly averted her gaze.Mrs. Hammerton sustained his pleasant inspection with an unchangingstare almost insolent.
After a moment he smiled at her. It was a mistake to do it.
* * * * *
After luncheon, Elena Clydesdale found an opportunity for a word withhim.
"Will you remember that you have an engagement to-night?" she said in aguarded voice.
"I shall break it," he replied.
"What!"
"This is going to end here and now! Your business is with your husband.He's a decent fellow; he's devoted to you. I won't even discuss it withyou. Break with him if you want to, but don't count on me!"
"I can't break with him unless I can count on you. Are you going to lieto me, Jim?"
"You can call it what you like. But if you break with him it will endour friendship."
"I tell you I've _got_ to break with him. I've got to do it now--atonce!"
"Why?"
"Because--because I've got to. I can't go on fencing with him."
"Oh!"
She crimsoned and set her little white teeth.
"I've got to leave him or be what--I won't be!"
"Then break with him," he said contemptuously, "and give a decent mananother chance in life!"
"I can't--unless you----"
"Good God! I'd sooner cut my throat. My sympathy is for your husband.You're convicting yourself, I tell you! I've always had a dim idea thathe was all right. Now I know it--and my obligations to you are ended."
"Then--you leave me--to him? Answer me, Jim. You refuse to stand betweenme and my--my degradation? Is that what you mean to do? Knowing I haveno other means of escaping it except through you--except by defying theworld with you!"
She broke off with a sob.
"Elena," he said, "your one salvation in this world is to have children!It will mean happiness and honour for you both--mutual respect, and, ifnot romantic love, at least a cordial understanding and mutualtoleration. If you have such a chance, don't throw it away. Your husbandis a slow, intelligent, kind, and patient man, who has borne much fromyou because he is honestly in love with you. Don't mistake hisconsideration for weakness, his patience for acquiescence. What kindnessyou have pretended to show him recently has given him courage. He istrying to make good because he believes that he can win you. This isclear reason; it is logic, Elena."
She turned on him in a flash of tears and exasperation.
"Logic! Do you think a woman wants that?" she stammered. "Do you think awoman arrives at any conclusion through the kind of reasoning thatsatisfies men? What difference does what you say make to me, when I hate_him_ and I love _you_? How does your logic help me to escape whatis--is abhorrent to me! Do you suppose your reasoning makes it moreendurable? Oh, Jim! For heaven's sake don't leave me to that--that man!Let me come here this evening a
fter he has gone, and try to explain toyou how I----"
"No."
"You won't!"
"No. I am going to town with Mrs. Hammerton and Miss Nevers on theevening train. And some day I am going to marry Miss Nevers."