CHAPTER XVIII
THE WHIRLPOOL
"Well, Billings, you're looking as cadaverously blooming as ever. Howdo you do it, man? Did someone give you an over-dose of respectabilityin your youth?"
Saltash leaned back in his chair smiling up at his wry-faced servitorwith insolent humour.
Billings, the decorous, betrayed not the smallest sign of surprise orresentment. It was said of him that when Saltash had once in a fit ofanger flung a wine-glass at his head, he had knelt and collected thefragments and mopped up the wine before he had dreamed of retiring toattend to the cut on his face that the glass had inflicted.
On the present occasion he made response with the utmost gravity. "Ican't say, my lord. Shall I light the fire, my lord?"
"Oh yes, it's a filthy day, typical of a filthy climate. Yes, light thefire, and pull down the blinds, and let's be comfortable!"
"It won't be dark yet, my lord," observed Billings, with a glance at theclock.
Saltash's eyes went in the same direction. It was not quite threeo'clock. "What of that, good Billings? I please myself," he said. "Bythe way, you might take coffee up to the music-room. Leave it to brewup there! And when Mrs. Bolton calls tell her I'm out, but I shall beback in a very short time! Ask her to wait in the music-room, and pourher out some coffee! Light the red lamp by the piano, but leave therest! Is that quite clear, Billings?"
"Quite clear, my lord."
Billings was on his knees before the fire. Saltash leaned forward inhis chair.
"Be sure you get her to have some coffee, Billings!" he said. "Tell herI specially recommend it."
"Very good, my lord." Billings spoke with his head nearly touching thelogs of wood he was seeking to kindle. "I quite understand, my lord."
Saltash got to his feet. "I'll give you a gold watch if you succeed,Billings," he said.
"You're very good, my lord," said Billings.
Saltash wandered down the hall. He had a cigarette between his lips,but he was not smoking. He reached the marble statue near the grandstaircase and pressed a switch that flooded it with light. Then hestood before it, silent and intent. White and wonderful the anguishedfigure shone, but it was rather a figure of death than life. Its puritywas almost dazzling. Its very agony was unearthly.
Saltash frowned abruptly and switched off the light. Then for a space hestood in the gloom, staring at the vague outline.
Billings came up behind him soft-footed, unobtrusive. "The rose light,my lord, was placed on the other side according to your lordship'sorders," he said deferentially, and passed on as if he had not spoken.
Saltash glanced over his shoulder momentarily, and resumed his silentcontemplation of the figure in the shadows.
Several seconds passed. Then very suddenly he moved again, bent swiftlyand pressed another switch. In a moment the figure was fully visibleagain, but no longer did it dazzle the eyes with its whiteness. A softrose radiance surrounded it. It glowed into life, pulsing, palpitatingflesh and blood.
And the man's eyes suddenly kindled as they passed over the naked,straining form. "I have you now, my Captured Angel," he murmured.
He stood and feasted upon the vision. Once he stretched a hand to touchthe faultless curve of the breast, but checked himself with an odd,flickering smile as though he did reverence whimsically to a sacredelement in which he had no faith. The agonized shame of the thing,poignant, arresting, though it was, seemed wholly to pass him by. Hisqueer, glancing eyes saw only the unveiled voluptuousness of the form,the perfect contour of the limbs, the exquisite moulding of each fulland gracious line. He dwelt upon them all with the look of an epicure.He moved again at length, drew near to the statue, reached a hand to thedark panelling of the recess behind. It slipped inwards noiselessly,disclosing a narrow doorway. In a moment he had passed through, and thegreat hall was empty; empty save for that figure of tragic womanhood,rose-lighted, piteously alive, standing out against the shadows.
It was nearly half an hour later that an electric bell sounded throughthe silence, and Billings, the respectable, came noiselessly through thehall. He swung the great door open with a well-bred flourish.
A woman's figure clad in a streaming waterproof stood on the step, andin a low voice asked for Lord Saltash. Billings stood back with a deepbow. "Will you walk in, madam?"
She entered and stood on the mat. He took her umbrella and set itaside.
"Will you permit me to remove your waterproof, madam?" he suggested.
She seemed to hesitate, but in a moment yielded. "But I can only stay afew moments," she said. "Please tell him so!"
"Quite so, madam!" Billings was deftly removing the wet garment. "Upin the music-room, if you please, madam."
She suffered his ministrations in silence; only as he turned to lead theway she shivered suddenly and uncontrollably.
She followed him up the dim hall. They approached the rose-lit statue.Her eyes were drawn to it. She stopped as though involuntarily, stoppedand caught her breath as if in sudden surprise or dismay. Then quicklyshe passed on.
They ascended the grand staircase in solemn procession, and reached themusic-room door.
Again Billings stood back for her to enter, but when she had done so, heclosed the door, remaining within.
The great room was dim and shadowy, heavy with some mysterious Easternfragrance that hung in the air like incense. It was lighted by two redfires that burned without flame and a red-shaded lamp that shed amysterious arc of light far away by the piano.
There was a small table by the further fire, and on this a silvercoffee-pot hissed over a spirit-lamp. A low divan--so low that itlooked a mere pile of luxurious cushions--stood invitingly close.Billings deferentially led the way thither.
"If you will be pleased to take a seat, madam," he said. "His lordshipwill not keep you waiting long."
"Is he out?" Maud asked quickly.
"He has been out, madam. He came in wet through and is changing. Hebegged very particularly that you would drink a cup of coffee while youawaited him."
He indicated the divan, but Maud remained on her feet. The atmosphere ofthe place disturbed her. It seemed to be charged with subtleties thatbaffled her, making her vaguely uneasy.
She had come in answer to a message accompanying a great bunch ofviolets that had reached her that morning. She had not wanted to come;but for this once it seemed imperative that she should meet him face toface, and explain that which she felt no written words could everexpress. She had sent him her rash summons, and he had replied by thatbunch of violets and the request that she would come to him since he didnot wish to risk interruption from "_madame la mere_." On this pointshe had been fully in accord with him, and she had sent back word thatshe would come in the afternoon, just to speak with him for a fewminutes. She had hoped that he would gather from that that since thesending of her summons she had repented of her madness. It would not bean easy interview, she was sure; but she was not afraid of Charlie. Shehated the thought of hurting him all the more because she did not fearhim. He would let her go; oh yes, he would let her go. He had neversought to hold her against her will. But that very fact would make theparting the more bitter. His half-whimsical chivalry was somehow harderto face than any fury of indignation. He had hurt her at their lastinterview, hurt and disappointed her. But yet the man's fascinationoverpowered all thought of his shortcomings. Already she had almostforgotten them.
She stood before the fire, absently watching the servant as he busiedhimself over the coffee, till the aromatic scent of it suddenly broughther out of her reverie.
"Oh, thank you," she said. "I don't think I will have any. I have onlycome for five minutes' talk with Lord Saltash."
"His lordship particularly desired that you would take a cup, madam,"the man replied. "It is a very special Egyptian brew." He turned roundwith a small silver cup on a salver which he decorously presented. "Itis suppos
ed to be particularly pleasing to a lady's palate, madam," hesaid.
She did not want the coffee, but it seemed ungracious to refuse it. Shetook the cup and set it on the mantelpiece.
"It should be drunk very hot, madam," said Billings persuasively. "Willyou be so very kind, madam, as to taste it, and tell me if it is to yourliking?"
She hesitated momentarily, but it was too small a matter to refuse. Shetook the cup by its slender handle and put it to her lips. Instantly itwas as if a warm current of life went through her, a fine, golden threadof delight.
She looked at Billings and smiled. "It is--delicious," she said.
Billings looked gratified. "The second cup is generally considered evenbetter than the first, madam," he said.
"Oh, I won't take more than one, thank you," she said.
And Billings retired, closing the door soundlessly behind him.
Maud lifted the cup again to her lips. Its fragrance pervaded all hersenses. It was unlike anything she knew, and yet in some subtle fashionit made her think of palms and orange-groves, and the strong sunshine ofthe East. It presented before her mind a vivid picture of beauties thatshe had never seen. She drank again; and again that strange sense ofdawning bliss came to her. It was like the coming of a tropic morningafter a long, black night. Her anxiety was magically lifted from her; asensation of pure gladness, of warmth of soul and body began to possessher. It was like drinking in the pure essence of sunshine. All thingsseemed easy, all difficulties were smoothed away. She was sure thatCharlie would understand and be content. Had he not promised to be toher whatever she wished?
She drained the cup, and set it down. It seemed a little strange to herthat her hand should be trembling as she did so; for all her misgivingshad vanished. She had stepped as it were into a garden of delight. Astrange, unearthly happiness was hers. It was as if her life had beensuddenly and mysteriously filled to the brim with all that she coulddesire.
The only thing lacking was music. She looked across at the grand pianolighted with that one red lamp, and a haunting memory came to her--cameto her. She saw the altar and the glow of the undying flame before it;but the flowers--the white lilies of purity--where were they?
A vague distress came to her, filtering as it were through lockedsenses, dispelling the golden rapture, dimming her dream. She movedover the polished floor, drawn by that red arc of light. She reachedthe piano. She stood before it. And then her dream changed.
The vision of the altar faded, faded. She slipped down before thegleaming keys. She struck a soft, sweet chord. And with it the formermagic took her. The sun and the orange-groves were hers again, and ablue, blue gleam of sea came into the picture like the last touch ofromance into a fairy-tale. As one beneath a spell she sat and wove hervision into such music as she had never contemplated before....
As of old, she never knew quite when he came to her. She only realizedvery suddenly that he was there. His dark face gleamed down at her inthe lamplight. His odd eyes sent a mocking invitation into hers.
Again her vision was swept away. Her hands fell from the piano, andwere caught in the same instant into his.
"Oh, Charlie!" she gasped incoherently.
He drew her close, laughing at her with half-teasing tenderness. "Oh,Maud!" he said. "O queen of all the roses!"
But she hung back from him. It was almost as if something dragged herback. "I--I have something to say to you," she faltered confusedly. "Icame to say it. What was it? Oh, what was it?"
His swarthy face was bending nearer, nearer. She saw the humorous liftof his black brows. "You have said it," he told her softly. "There isnothing left to say. There will never again be any need for wordsbetween us two."
He laughed at her again with a kind of kingly indulgence. His arms wentround her, pressing her to him, ignoring her last, quivering effort toresist. His lips suddenly found her own.
And then it was that her eyes were opened, and her memory came back. Ina flash of anguished understanding she was brought face to face with therealities of life. She knew that she had been enmeshed in a dream ofevil delight, drawn unaccountably, by some hidden, devilish strategy tothe very edge of that precipice that she had striven so desperately toavoid.
In that moment she would have torn herself free, but her strength wasgone. Her body felt leaden and powerless; her throat too numb to utterany protest. Her visions had all fallen away from her, but she thoughtshe heard the roar of the whirlpool below. And through all she wasmadly conscious of the lips that pressed her own, the arms that drew hercloser, always closer, to the gulf.
She thought that her senses were leaving her, so utterly helpless hadshe become. An awful cloud seemed to be hanging over her,--slowly,slowly descending. Faintly she tried to pray for deliverance, but hislips stilled the prayer. Against her will, as one horribly compelled,she knew that she returned his kiss.
And then she was lying on the low divan with Charlie beside her, holdingher, calling her his queen, his captured angel--his wife.
She did not know exactly what happened afterwards, for a great darknesstook her. She only knew that she was suddenly lifted and borne away.She only heard the rush of the whirlpool as it closed over her head.