The Woman's Way

  CHAPTER II

  The colour rose to the young man's pallid face; he leant back and, withnarrowed eyes, regarded her, for the first time, with curiosity andinterest. It may be said that, up to that moment, he had not realizedher personality; she was just a something, a nuisance in the shape of agirl, which had come between him and a shameful death. Of course, he hadseen Celia in the corridor now and again, had noticed vaguely that hisopposite neighbour was young and graceful and pretty--no man, especiallyone of his age, could fail to notice such palpable facts--but he hadbeen too absorbed in his own affairs to take any interest in her. Now,surprised by her courage, he regarded her curiously, and he saw that shewas not only pretty, but quite beautiful. He took in the clear oval ofher face, the soft waves of dark hair which garlanded the low forehead,puckered now by lines of decision, the blue-grey eyes almost violet inthe intensity of her gaze, the lips which, he felt, could smile withinfinite tenderness, though now set tightly.

  Yes; this young woman who had come at the sound of his groan of despair,who now sat opposite him, gripping the revolver which she had forcedfrom his hand, was very beautiful, and, obviously, very brave; he saw,too, that she was a lady, that she was different from most of the girlswho lived in the Buildings. In that flash of scrutiny, he took in eventhe details of her dress, and knew that, plain as it was, it had comefrom a good house, probably from Paris itself; there were no cheap ringson the well-formed, but not too small, hands; he realized that he wasconfronting the embodiment of the three qualities most desirable--youth,beauty, strength; and he was conscious of a reluctant thrill ofadmiration. His eyes sank, and, involuntarily, he sighed. For he wasthinking of another woman.

  "Did you hear what I said?" asked Celia, in a low voice, one a triflemore gentle, though it was still firm. "I said that I don't believeyou."

  "Yes; I heard," he responded, with a listless smile of irony; "but I amafraid twelve good men in a box--the jury, you know--would not be soincredulous. May I ask why you refuse to accept my plea of guilty? Notthat it matters!"

  Celia's brows drew together, and she looked as if she were somewhatembarrassed and puzzled by the question; at last, after a pause, shereplied, woman-like,

  "You don't look like one."

  "Quite so," he said, with deeper irony. "That is essentially a femininereason. Of course, your idea of a forger is the theatrical one; thegentleman with a Mephistophelian face, a sardonic sneer, evening dress,with a big cloak, and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth; thevillain who looks every inch the part and says 'Curse you!' whenever itis possible to do so. My dear young lady, your ignorance of the worldspoils your compliment. The worst man, the biggest criminal I ever sawin the dock, looked as innocent as a baby."

  "All the same, I don't believe you," Celia declared, doggedly.

  "I am sorry to say the court is not with you," he said, with a smilethat did not hide his bitterness. "The cheque was cashed by theprisoner--myself, my lord.--You see, I accept you as judge.--When he wasasked to give an account of it, he refused to do so; I am speaking inthe past tense, but I am merely forecasting the course of the trial. Aman who cashes a forged cheque and declines to say where he got it, howit came into his possession, is quickly disposed of by a British jury,than which there is no body of men more acute and intelligent."

  "Why do you refuse to tell the truth and clear yourself?" asked Celia,in a low voice, her lips parted now, with a perplexity, a vividinterest.

  He rose, strode up and down the room for a moment or two, then came backto the table, and, with his hands pressing hard on it, looked down ather upturned, anxious face.

  "Your belief, your persistent, unreasoning belief in me, upsets me," hesaid, with a smile, and evidently still making an effort to retain hisassumption of cynical indifference and levity. "I am strongly tempted byit to tell you 'my story,' as the bores on the stage say; but I can't.However, I will admit that you are right. I did not forge the accursedthing--I beg your pardon! No, I didn't sign the cheque; but the case, sofar as I am concerned, is just as black as if I were guilty. Hold on aminute! I know what you are going to say; that I am sacrificingmyself----"

  "You have no right to do so," Celia broke in, in a voice that trembled,not only with pity, but with indignation. "Oh, don't you see! I am onlya girl, and I know so little of the world; but I know, I am as sure as Iam that--that I am standing here, you have no right, no one has anyright, to make such a sacrifice, and certainly no one would be justifiedin accepting it." She pushed the hair from her forehead with a gestureof impatience. "Oh, you must be mad! You--you look so clever, you takeit all so calmly; you are not excited, bewildered--don't you seeyourself that, in consenting to ruin yourself, to go to--to prison, aninnocent man----? Oh, you have not realized----"

  "Have I not?" he broke in, grimly, and with a significant glance at therevolver. "Oh, yes; I realize it clearly enough; it was because I didthat I decided to--slip out of it. I am sorry that you prevented me. Itwas good of you; it was brave of you; you meant well. And you havesucceeded. It is a case of the interposing angel; but you have placed mein a terrible fix. I don't know what I am going to do."

  His hands fell to his side with a gesture of helplessness and despair,and he turned his head away from the searching gaze of the clear eyesregarding him so intently.

  "Tell the truth," said Celia, in an urgent whisper. "Why should youscreen the guilty? Why should you suffer in his place? Oh, I don't wantto hear the story, it does not concern me. But if you told it to me, itwould make no difference, it would not alter my opinion that you intendto do a very wicked things--and a very foolish one."

  "Foolish! That hits me rather hard," he commented, with a wry smile.

  "Well, it _is_ foolish," said Celia, emphatically. "Why, look how youngyou are!"

  "Why, how young do you think I am?" he interrupted, looking down at herwith a grave smile. "As I said just now, you seem to regard me as if Iwere a boy. I think I am as old as you--older. How old are you--you looklike a girl?"

  "I am twenty-two--but what has that to do with it? How can you turnaside, trifle----"

  "And I am twenty-five," he said, with an involuntary sigh. "So you see Iam your senior. But they say a woman is always ten years older than aman of the same age. I suppose that is why you always have us under yourthumbs. No, I'm not trifling. Don't you see that I am fighting for time,that I am trying not to _think_, that I am putting the thing from me asfar as I can, even for a few minutes. Immediately you go, I shall haveto face it all again, and--alone. You have been very good to me; youdon't think I am ungrateful, because I--I play the fool?"

  "Don't play it any longer, then," said Celia, earnestly. "Make up yourmind to do the right thing. Why should you ruin yourself? But I havesaid that before. You know I am right; you say you are grateful becauseI have stopped you from----" She shuddered, and her hand closed stillmore tightly on the revolver. "Promise me----"

  He looked at her wistfully; but he shook his head.

  "I can't do that," he said, in a low voice. "Here, I see I shall have toput the case to you." He sank into the chair and leant his head on hishand, and, still with his eyes covered, he continued, in little morethan a whisper: "Supposing there was someone you cared for more thananything else in the world, more than life, more than honour. Is theresomeone?"

  Celia did not blush, and without a sign of embarrassment, shook herhead.

  "I beg your pardon for asking. I am sorry there is not; because, yousee, you would understand more readily. Well, there is someone I carefor like that, and I am doing this to save her--I mean him," hecorrected quickly, "from all that I should suffer if I stood up andfaced the music, as you want me to do."

  "Whoever she is, she is not worth it," said Celia, her voice thrillingwith indignation and scorn.

  "I said 'him,'" he corrected, almost inaudibly.

  "You said 'her,' first," retorted Celia. "Of course, it's a woman--and awicked, a selfish one. No woman who had a spark of goodness in her wouldaccept such a sacrifice."
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  "You wrong her," he said. "There are always exceptions, circumstances,to govern every case. In this case, she does not know. I tell you that,if I take your advice, I should blast the life of the woman I--I love."

  "Then you are screening a man for her sake?" said Celia.

  "That's it," he admitted; "and you would do the same, if you stood in myplace. Oh, you would say you would not; perhaps you think at this momentyou would not; but you would. You're just the sort of girl to do it." Helaughed again, bitterly. "Why, one has only to look at you----"

  For the first time, Celia coloured, and her eyes dropped. As if ashamedof having caused her embarrassment, he bit his lip, and muttered, "Ihave been offensive, I am afraid. But you see how it is? And now youknow the truth, have guessed something of it, you will see that I haveeither to face the music, plead guilty to the charge and go to prison,or get out of it by the only way."

  It was she who hid her face now. He saw that she was trembling; he knewthat she was struggling with her tears; he went round to her and laidhis hand on her shoulder, very gently, almost reverently. "Don't cry,"he said. "I'm not worth it. I am sorry you should be so distressed. Iwish--for your sake, now--that you had not come in. Hadn't you better gonow?"

  Celia rose; her cheeks were wet, her lips were quivering.

  "What--what will you do?" she asked, fighting with a sob.

  He met her eyes moodily. Celia held her breath; then, with a suddentightening of the lips, a flash of the eyes, he said, grimly, as ifevery word cost him an effort,

  "I will face it."

  With a gasp of relief, and yet with infinite pity and sorrow in hereyes, she flung out both hands to him.

  He took them in his, which were burning now, and gripped them tightly.

  "My God! what a woman you are," he said, with a sudden uplifting of thebrows. "Someone else will find that out some day."

  Celia drew her hands away and moved to the door. As he opened it forher, his glance fell on the revolver she had laid on the table.

  "You have forgotten," he said, with a mirthless smile. "Hadn't youbetter take it with you?"

  She looked straight into his eyes, not in doubt, but with infinite trustand confidence.

  "No," she said; and with the word, she passed out.