Part 6 (2/2)
”Never since the day I first plighted my faith to you, dear heart, has he given me one sign of a lover's love.
”Oh, Arthur, I do love my husband! This night has proved it to me as I never knew it before; and if you will only believe me and go back to Leonard, I believe he can tear the mask off this horrible mystery.”
Arthur turned and once more locked the door. His wife flamed red and hearkened, and the light footfall which had tortured her for hours began again. Suddenly she left the bed and hurried to dress.
At the mirror, with her hair lifted on her hands, she paused and again hearkened. Sleighbells stopped at the front door.
Now some one was let in down there, and now, at her husband's room, Giles, his English man of all work, announced Mr. Byington:--
”Yes, sir, but he says if you can't come down 'e will 'ave to come up, sir.”
VIII
GIVE YOU FIVE MINUTES
As Arthur entered the library Leonard came from its farther end, and they halted on opposite sides of a large table. Arthur was flushed and looked fearfully spent. Leonard was pale.
”I have your letter, Arthur.”
The rector bowed. He gave a start, but tried to conceal a gleam of triumph.
Leonard ignored it and spoke on:--
”A gentleman, Arthur,--I mean any one trying to be a whole gentleman,--is a very helpless creature, nowadays, in matters of this sort.”
He looked formidable, and as he lightly grasped a chair at his side it seemed about to be turned into a weapon.
”The old thing once called satisfaction,” he continued, ”is something one can no longer either ask or offer, in any form. He can neither rail, nor strike, nor spellbind, nor challenge, nor lampoon, nor prosecute.”
”Nearly as helpless as a clergyman,” said Arthur.
”Almost,” replied the visitor. ”No, there is no more satisfaction in any of those things, for him, than if he were all a clergyman is supposed to be. There is none even in saying this, to you, here, now, and I'm not here to say it. Neither am I here to vindicate myself--no, nor yet Isabel--with professions or arguments to you; I might as well argue with a forest fire.”
”Quite as well. What are you here for?”
”Be patient and I'll tell you; I'm trying to be so with you.”
”You--trying”--
”Stop that nonsense, Arthur. Ah me, Arthur Winslow, I have no wish to humiliate you. Through the loyalty of your wife's pure heart, whatever humiliates you must humiliate her. Oh, I could wish her in her shroud and coffin rather than have her suffer the humiliation you have prepared for yourself and for her through you.”
Arthur showed a thrill of alarm. ”Do you propose to go down to public shame and drag us all with you?”
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