How else would he have dared to make love to her, and to seemso assured that his love would be returned?
She drew herself away from him, not violently, but with a colddispleasure that carried more weight than any fierce resentment couldhave done, and in a voice that trembled slightly with repressed angerexclaimed as she rose and faced him,--
"Mr Markham, you have insulted me past forgiveness. If any action orword of mine has led you to speak as you have done I deplore it with mywhole heart--I couldn't feel more humiliated even if such were the case;I feel so abjectly debased as it is. How dare you imply that I do notget on with my husband? I love him with the whole force of my being. Idoubt if you could understand or appreciate such love as ours."
"I doubt it too," he sneered. "My love is not of the kind that can soreadily efface itself. You are rather unreasonable, I think; a mancan't help his feelings. Some women would take it as a compliment."
"I am sorry for the sort of women you seem acquainted with," sheanswered rather sadly. "You have formed a very low opinion of the sex.It is not a compliment that you have paid me, and you know it. Don'tsay anything more please; I decline to discuss that, or any othersubject with you. I must request you to leave my rooms, and never toenter them again. You have made further intercourse an impossibility,and our past friendship something to be remembered only with regret."
"Don't say that," he began pleadingly; but Jill cut him short.
"Please understand that I am quite in earnest," she said. "When Jackcomes home I shall explain to him what has happened; it is well that heshould understand the true character of his friend. I can never thankheaven sufficiently that my husband is both a man of honour, and agentleman."
"For that matter so should I have been if I had met you first," heanswered gloomily. "You are rather hard on me, Jill. Perhaps I havebeen too precipitate; but I love you so madly, and to-day you seemed sosad, and sweet, and lonely, that I wanted to comfort you."
"Enough!" exclaimed Jill excitedly. "If you don't go I shall ask MrThompkins to come and protect me from further indignity. Howcontemptible you are!--how mean! Why don't you insult me when myhusband is at home? The sight of you is hateful to me. Why won't yougo?"
"I will," he answered quietly, "as you wish it. I do not want tofrighten you; but remember--always remember that I love you with all myheart."
Jill stood quite still and watched him as he gravely quitted herpresence, and then listened dully to his footsteps clattering down thestairs. When they died away along the narrow passage and she heard thestreet door bang behind him she put her hand to her forehead in a dazedkind of way, and glanced vaguely round the little room seeing nothingbut Markham's cynical face with the ugly expression in his eyes that wasin the painted eyes of the canvas on the easel. Her glance travelled tothe portrait, and rested there for a moment. The sight of it seemed torouse her into action, and, with a catch in her voice that sounded likean angry sob, she took up a brush, and in a few vigorous strokes paintedthe whole thing out again as she would have liked to blot the incidentfrom her memory.
To Jill the fact that Markham loved her was anything but acongratulatory matter. The red blood surged to her temples in a floodof indignant colour at the mere thought of such an outrage to herwifehood. She was very angry; her calmness and self-possession hadentirely deserted her leaving her excited and wholly unlike herself.She did not expect St. John home for some time; he had told her not towait tea, he should be late; and so she seated herself in the big chairby the window to watch for his return, too upset to think of getting teafor herself, too miserable to feel the need of it. St. John was notvery late however. He had promised Thompkins to be back by six, and ata few minutes to the hour he arrived. Jill saw him coming but she didnot move. She remained where she was until she heard his footstep onthe stairs, then she rose and walking quickly to the door threw it open.He was going into the bedroom to change his coat for the old one he didhis work in. Jill called to him softly, but he went on as though he hadnot heard. She set her lips tightly and followed him, determined toclear up the misunderstanding that existed between them at any cost, andto tell him what had occurred during the afternoon.
"Jack," she said, "I want to talk to you."
"Sorry," he answered, "but I haven't time. I have a lot of work to do."
His manner was anything but encouraging. At another time she would haveturned away and allowed the breach to widen, but to-day she was sick ofquarrelling about nothing, and longed for a complete reconciliation, andso she persevered.
"You are not very kind to me, dear," she said. "I think the work canwait a few minutes longer, and what I have to say is most important. Ihave had a very unpleasant experience to-day, Jack, and feel quiteworried and upset about it--if you only knew how worried I am sure youwould give me your attention."
St. John turned towards her, an expression of surprise on his face. Hewas in his shirt sleeves, and looked handsome, bad-tempered and ill atease, his afternoon with Evie had apparently not conduced toexhilaration of spirits.
"What on earth can be worrying you?" he exclaimed. "Didn't Markham turnup?"
"Yes, he turned up," answered Jill sharply. "That is the trouble. Ihad to send him away again. You, who knew him so intimately, had noright to leave me alone with such a man--no right to introduce me to himat all. He insulted me--he actually tried to make _love_ to me."
She broke off abruptly. Her voice shook a little, and she put up a handto her burning face. St. John swore. He dropped the jacket he washolding on to the floor, and began struggling fiercely into his outdoorcoat again. Jill watched him anxiously. Then she laid a restraininghand upon his arm.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Find him and--give him a lesson."
He looked so fierce and determined that Jill felt frightened. She wasnervous and unstrung with the excitement of the afternoon, and shetrembled slightly as she clung tenaciously to his arm.
"Let him alone," she cried quickly. "I will not have my name draggedinto any dispute. We have done with him; that is enough. The mattermust end there."
"That is all very well," he retorted, "but do you suppose I am going tostand quietly by and allow any cad to make love to my wife?"
"If you had not stood quietly by it might never have happened," sheanswered. "I don't quite know what it is we have been quarrellingabout, but I do know that lately we have drifted apart, and he noticedit--he said so. He thought that I had found out that our marriage hadbeen a mistake."
She looked up to meet St. John's gaze riveted upon her face, with anexpression in his eyes that puzzled her, it was so unlike anything shehad seen in them before. He looked as a man might look when someone hehas loved and trusted deals him a blow on the face, so stern and whiteand miserable, and so full of an unspeakable shame.
"Jack," she half-whispered, "what is it? What is the matter, dear?"
"Forgive me," he cried brokenly, "If I have misjudged you; but Ithought--as Markham thinks. And, my God, I think so still."
Jill drew away from him, wounded into silence by what she heard. For afew moments she stood irresolute, struck motionless with an anguish toodeep for words; then with a half articulate cry she tottered forward,and fell, a forlorn little bundle, at his feet St. John stooped swiftly,and gathering her up, laid her tenderly upon the bed, and, bending overher with a face even whiter than her own, stared down, awed and humbled,at the motionless, unconscious form.
He was almost too stunned at first to realise that there was anythingserious the matter; but it gradually dawned upon him that she ought notto be allowed to lie there as she was without calling in someassistance, and so, not pausing to put on his coat, he ran out of thebedroom on to the landing, and stood there in his shirt sleeves, interrified and breathless anxiety.
"Thompkins!" he cried excitedly. "Thompkins!"
"Hallo!" answered a voice from the bottom of the stairs, a voice of calmand unruffled serenity.
"For
God's sake run for the doctor," St. John called back.
There was silence for a few seconds; then the street door was opened andbanged to again, and St. John returned to the room to watch by his wifeand wait.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
It was not many weeks after her sudden and unusual attack ofunconsciousness that Jill presented her husband with a little son. Thesmall stranger appeared upon the scene rather too soon, and was delicateand puny in consequence, and a great source of anxiety to its parents.Jill, herself, was very ill for a long while after its birth, so thatSt. John had a trying and expensive time of it, the only beneficialresult being that every minor worry was forgotten in the all