Captain Desmond, V.C.
CHAPTER XVIII.
LOVE THAT IS LIFE!
"Love that is Life; Love that is Death, Love that is mine!" --GIPSY SONG.
Not until night condemned her to solitude and thought did Honorfrankly confront the calamity that had come upon her with the force ofa blow, cutting her life in two, shattering her pride, her joy, herinherent hopefulness of heart.
The insignificant fact that her life was broken did not set the worlda hair's breadth out of gear; and through the day she held her headhigh, looking and speaking as usual, because she still had faith andstrength and courage; and, having these, the saddest soul alive willnot be utterly cast down.
She spent most of her time with Evelyn; and succeeded in so farreconciling her to Theo's decision that Evelyn slipped quietly intothe study, where he sat reading, and flinging her arms round himwhispered broken words of penitence into the lapel of his coat; aproceeding even more disintegrating to his resolution than herattitude of the morning.
Honor rode out to the polo-ground with them later on in the day,returning with Paul Wyndham, who stayed to dinner, a habit that hadgrown upon him since the week at Lahore. She wondered a littleafterwards what he had talked of during the ride, and what she hadsaid in reply; but since he seemed satisfied, she could only hope thatshe had not betrayed herself by any incongruity of speech or manner.
During the evening she talked and played with a vigour andcheerfulness which quite failed to deceive Desmond. But of this shewas unaware. The shock of the morning had stunned her brain. Sheherself and those about her were as dream-folk moving in a dream whileher soul sat apart, in some vague region of space, noting andapplauding her body's irreproachable behaviour. Only now and then,when she caught Theo's eyes resting on her face, the wholedream-fabric fell to pieces, and stabbed her spirit broad awake.
Desmond himself could not altogether shut out anxious conjecture. Byan instinct he could hardly have explained, he spoke very little tothe girl, except to demand certain favourite pieces of music, most ofwhich, to his surprise, she laughingly refused to play. Only, inbidding her good-night, he held her hand a moment longer than usual,smiling straight into her eyes; and the strong enfolding pressure, farfrom unsteadying her, seemed rather to revive her flagging fortitude.For who shall estimate the virtue that goes out from the hand-clasp ofa brave man, to whose courage is added the strength of a stainlessmind?
* * * * *
At last it was over.
She had left the husband and wife together, happy in a reconciliationof her own making; had dismissed Parbutti, bolted the door behind her,and now stood like one dazed, alone with God and her grief, whichalready seemed old as the stars,--a thing preordained before thebeginning of time.
She never thought of turning up the lamp; but remained standing verystraight and still, her hands clenched, all the pride of hermaidenhood up in arms against that which dominated her, by no will ofher own.
She knew now, past question,--and the certainty crimsoned her face andneck,--that she had loved him unwittingly from the moment of meeting;possibly even from that earlier moment when she had unerringly pickedout his face from among many others. Herein lay the key to herinstinctive recoil from too rapid intimacy; the key to the peculiarquality of her intercourse with him, which had been from the first athing apart; as far removed from her friendship with Wyndham as is theserenity of the foothills from the life-giving breath of the heights.
And now--now that she had been startled into knowledge, the wholetruth must be confronted, the better to be combated;--the truth thatshe loved him--with everything in her--with every thought, everyinstinct of soul and body. Nay, more, in the very teeth of her shameand self-abasement, she knew that she was glad and proud to have lovedhim, and no lesser man, even though the fair promise of her womanhoodwere doomed to go down unfulfilled into the grave.
Not for a moment did she entertain the cheap consolatory thought thatshe would get over it; or would, in time, give some good man the huskof her heart in exchange for the first-fruits of his own. She held theobsolete opinion that marriage unconsecrated by love was a deadliersin than the one into which she had fallen unawares; and which, atleast, need not tarnish or sadden any life save her own. This lastbrought her sharply into collision with practical issues. In the faceof her discovery, dared she--ought she to remain even a week longerunder Theo's roof?
Her heart cried out that she must go; that every hour of intercoursewith him was fraught with peril. The fact that his lips were sealedavailed her nothing; for these two had long since passed that dangerpoint in platonic friendship when words are discarded for more directcommuning of soul with soul. Theo could read every look in her eyes,every tone of her voice, like an open book, and she knew it; thoughshe had never acknowledged it till now. All unconsciously he wouldwrest her secret from her by force of sympathetic insight; and she,who implicitly believed in God, who held suicide to be the mostdastardly sin a human being can commit, knew that she would take herown life without hesitation rather than stand proven disloyal toEvelyn, disgraced in the eyes of the man she loved. She did not thinkthis thing in detail. She merely knew it, with the instinctivecertainty of a vehement temperament that feels and knows apart fromall need of words.
Her character had been moulded by men--simple, upright men; and shehad imbibed their hard-and-fast notions of honour, of right and wrong.She had power to turn her back upon her love, to live out her life asthough it were not, on two conditions only. No one must ever suspectthe truth. No one but herself must suffer because of it. Conditionshard to be fulfilled.
"Oh, _Theo_!"
The cry broke from her unawares--a throb of the heart made vocal. Itroused her to reality, to the fact that she had been standing rigidlyin the middle of the room,--how long she knew not,--seeing nothing,hearing nothing, but the voice of her tormented soul.
She went forward mechanically to the dressing-table, and leaning herhands upon it, looked long and searchingly into her own face. Herpallor, the ivory sheen of her dress, and the unnatural lustre of hereyes, gave her reflection a ghostly aspect in the dim light; and sheshuddered. Was this to be the end of her high hopes and ideals,--ofher resolute waiting and longing and praying for the very best thatlife and love could give? Was it actually she,--John's sister--herfather's daughter--who had succumbed to this undreamed-of wrong?
At thought of them, and of their great pride in her, all her strainedcomposure went to pieces. She sank into a chair and pressed both handsagainst her face. But no tears forced their way between her fingers. Agirl reared by four brothers is not apt to fall a-weeping upon everyprovocation; and Honor suffered the more keenly in consequence.
Suddenly the darkness was irradiated by a vision of Theo, as he hadappeared on entering the drawing-room that morning, in the familiarundress uniform that seemed a part of himself; bringing with him, asalways, his own magnetic atmosphere of alertness and vigour, ofunquestioning certainty that life was very much worth living. Everydetail of his face sprang clearly into view, and for a moment Honorlet herself go.
She deliberately held the vision, concentrating all her soul upon it,as on a face that one sees for the last time, and wills never toforget. It was an actual parting, and she felt it as such--a partingwith the man who could never be her friend again.
Then, chafing against her momentary weakness, she pulled herselftogether, let her hands fall into her lap with a slow sigh that wasalmost a sob, and wondered, dully, whether sleep would come to herbefore morning. Certainly not until she had considered her positiondispassionately,--neither ignoring its terrible possibilities, norexaggerating her own sense of shame and disgrace,--and had settled,once for all, what honour and duty demanded of her in thecircumstances.
One fact at least was clear. Her love for Theo Desmond was, in itself,no sin. It was a force outside the region of will,--imperious,irresistible. But it set her on the brink of a precipice, where onlyGod and the high compulsion of her soul could withhold
her from aplunge into the abyss.
"Mine own soul forbiddeth me: there, for each of us, is the eternalright and wrong." For Honor there could be no thought, no question ofthe false step, or of the abyss; and sinking on her knees she pouredout her heart in a passionate prayer for forgiveness, for light andwisdom to choose the right path, and power to walk in it withoutfaltering to the end.
When at last she rose, her lips and eyes had regained something oftheir wonted serenity. She knew now that her impulse to leave thehouse at once had been selfish and cowardly; that Evelyn must not bedeserted in a moment of bitter need; that these ten days must beendured for her sake--and for his. On his return, she could find areasonable excuse for spending a month elsewhere till John should cometo claim her. Never in all her life had she been called upon to makeso supreme an effort of self-mastery; and never had she felt socertain of the ultimate result.
She turned up the lamp now, and looked her new life bravely in theface, strong in her reliance on a Strength beyond her own,--a Strengthon which she could make unlimited demands; which had never failed heryet, nor ever would to the end of time.