Part 28 (2/2)
”I ask you to consider the suspicions which would be excited by such a course,” Dominey pleaded earnestly, ”and further, can you explain to me in what way I, having already, according to belief of everybody, another wife living, can take advantage of this mandate?”
She looked at him wonderingly.
”You make difficulties? You sit there like the cold Englishman whose place you are taking, you whose tears have fallen before now upon my hand, whose lips--”
”You speak of one who is dead,” Dominey interrupted, ”dead until the coming of great events may bring him to life again. Until that time your lover must be dumb.”
Then her anger blazed out. She spoke incoherently, pa.s.sionately, dragged his face down to hers and clenched her fist the next moment as though she would have struck it. She broke down with a storm of tears.
”Not so hard--not so hard, Leopold!” she implored. ”Oh! yours is a great task, and you must carry it through to the end, but we have his permission--there can be found a way--we could be married secretly. At least your lips--your arms! My heart is starved, Leopold.”
He rose to his feet. Her arms were still twined about his neck, her lips hungry for his kisses, her eyes s.h.i.+ning up into his.
”Have pity on me, Stephanie,” he begged. ”Until our time has come there is dishonour even in a single kiss. Wait for the day, the day you know of.”
She unwound her arms and s.h.i.+vered slightly. Her hurt eyes regarded him wonderingly.
”Leopold,” she faltered, ”what has changed you like this? What has dried up all the pa.s.sion in you? You are a different man. Let me look at you.”
She caught him by the shoulders, dragged him underneath the electric globe, and stood there gazing into his face. The great log upon the hearth was spluttering and fizzing. Through the closed door came the faint wave of conversation and laughter from outside. Her breathing was uneven, her eyes were seeking to rend the mask from his face.
”Can you have learnt to care for any one else?” she muttered. ”There were no women in Africa. This Rosamund Dominey, your reputed wife--they tell me that she is beautiful, that you have been kindness itself to her, that her health has improved since your coming, that she adores you. You wouldn't dare--”
”No,” he interrupted, ”I should not dare.”
”Then what are you looking at?” she demanded. ”Tell me that?”
Her eyes were following the shadowed picture which had pa.s.sed out of the room. He saw once more the slight, girlish form, the love-seeking light in those pleading dark eyes, the tremulous lips, the whole sweet appeal for safety from a frightened child to him, the strong man. He felt the clinging touch of those soft fingers laid upon his, the sweetness of those marvellously awakened emotions, so cruelly and drearily stifled through a cycle of years. The woman's pa.s.sion by his side seemed suddenly tawdry and unreal, the seeking of her lips for his something horrible. His back was towards the door, and it was her cry of angry dismay which first apprised him of a welcome intruder. He swung around to find Seaman standing upon the threshold--Seaman, to him a very angel of deliverance.
”I am indeed sorry to intrude, Sir Everard,” the newcomer declared, with a shade of genuine concern on his round, good-humoured face. ”Something has happened which I thought you ought to know at once. Can you spare me a moment?”
The Princess swept past them without a word of farewell or a backward glance. She had the carriage and the air of an insulted queen. A shade of deeper trouble came into Seaman's face as he stepped respectfully to one side.
”What is it that has happened?” Dominey demanded.
”Lady Dominey has returned,” was the quiet reply.
CHAPTER XVII
It seemed to Dominey that he had never seen anything more pathetic than that eager glance, half of hope, half of apprehension, flashed upon him from the strange, tired eyes of the woman who was standing before the log fire in a little recess of the main hall. By her side stood a pleasant, friendly looking person in the uniform of a nurse; a yard or two behind, a maid carrying a jewel case. Rosamund, who had thrown back her veil, had been standing with her foot upon the fender. Her whole expression changed as Dominey came hastily towards her with outstretched hands.
”My dear child,” he exclaimed, ”welcome home!”
”Welcome?” she repeated, with a glad catch in her throat. ”You mean it?”
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