Part 89 (2/2)
”You seem wonderfully certain on many points,” says Rylton, ”but is your judgment always infallible?”
”In this case, yes.”
”Ah! you have decided,” says he. His gaze wanders from her face and falls upon her hands. On the right hand is a beautiful pearl ring.
He regards it without thought for a second or two, and then he wakens to the fact that he had never seen it there before. ”Who gave you that ring?” demands he suddenly, with something of the old masterful air. It is so like the old air that t.i.ta for a little while is silent, then she wakes. No! It is all over now--that owners.h.i.+p. She has emanc.i.p.ated herself; she is free. There is something strange and terrible, however, to her in the knowledge that this thought gives her no joy. She stands pale, actually frightened, for there _is_ fear in the knowledge--that she had felt a sharp throb of delight when that commanding tone had fallen on her ears.
She recovers almost instantly.
”You think it was Tom, perhaps,” says she, speaking with a little difficulty, but smiling contemptuously. ”Well, it was not. It was only Margaret, after all. This is a last insult, I suppose. Was it to deliver it that you came here to-day?”
”No,” he is beginning, ”but----”
_ ”You_ ask me questions,” continues she, brus.h.i.+ng his words aside with a wave of her small hand. ”And I--I--have _I_ no questions to ask?” She stops, as if suffocating.
”You have, G.o.d knows,” says he. ”And”--he hesitates--”I don't expect you to believe me, but--that old folly--it is dead.”
”Dead?” She shakes her head. ”What killed it?”
_”You!”_ says Rylton.
One burning glance she casts at him.
”Do not let us waste time,” says she. ”Tell me plainly why you came here, why you want to see me.”
”You give me little encouragement to speak”--bitterly. ”But it is this: I want you to come back to me, to be mistress of my house again. I”--he pauses as if seeking words--”I have bought a new house; I want you to come and be the head of it.”
t.i.ta has been listening to him with wide eyes. She had grown pale as death itself during his speech, and now she recoils from him. She makes a little movement as though to repel him for ever, and then, suddenly she covers her eyes with her hands, and bursts into violent weeping.
”Oh no! No!” gasps she. ”Never! Never again! How _could_ you ask me!”
He takes a step towards her, and lays his hand upon her arm.
”No, don't touch me. Don't speak to me,” cries she. ”I have _had_ to see you to-day, and it has been terrible to me--so terrible that I hope I shall _never_ see you again. I could not bear it. Go--go away!”
”Do not send me from you like this,” entreats Rylton, in a voice that trembles. Her tears cut him to the heart. He is so close to her that he has only to put out his hand to catch her--to take her to him, and yet----”Think, t.i.ta! We have got to live out our lives, whether we like it or not. _Can_ we not live them out together?”
”We cannot,” says t.i.ta, in a low but distinct voice. She turns to him proudly. ”Have you forgotten?” says she. Her poor little face is stained with tears, but he sees no disfigurement in it; he has but one desire, and that is to take her into his arms and kiss those tears away from it for ever.
”Forget! Do you think I shall ever forget? It is my curse that I shall always remember. But that is at an end, t.i.ta. I _swear_ it! I hope I shall never see her again. If you wish it--I----”
”I wish nothing with regard to either her or you,” interrupts t.i.ta, her breath coming a little quickly. ”It is nothing to me. I do not care.”
”Don't say that,” says Rylton hoa.r.s.ely. He is fighting his battle inch by inch. ”Give me some hope! Is one sin to condemn a man for ever? I tell you all that is done. And you--if you love no one--give _me_ a chance!”
”Why should I trouble myself so far?” says she, with infinite disdain.
At this Rylton turns away from her. He goes to the window, and stands there gazing out, but seeing nothing.
”You are implacable--cold, heartless,” says he, in a low tone, fraught with hidden meaning.
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