Part 10 (1/2)

Thompson, I do fear my fate. It isn't plain-sailing for me. There are difficulties, barriers--it's all darkness before me.”

”I hope you haven't made an injudicious choice.”

”Yes, I have--in one way. Shall we sit down here? It is still very warm.”

It was as though the heated earth panted for breath; no evening breeze stirred the leaves; the air was heavy and languorous. Mrs. Thompson seemed glad to sit upon the Corporation bench. She sank down wearily, leaned her back against the wooden support, and stared at the darkly flowing water.

”So difficult,” he murmured. ”So many difficulties.” He looked behind him at the empty meadows, and up and down the empty path. Then he took off his hat, laid it on the seat beside him; and, bringing a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped his forehead. ”There are almost insurmountable barriers between us.”

”Have you given your heart to some married woman? Is she not free to respond to your affections?”

”No, she was married, but she's free now.... And I think it amuses her to encourage me--and make me suffer.” He had taken one of the hands that lay listlessly in the wide lap. ”She is _you_.”

Mrs. Thompson s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away, sprang up from the seat, and spoke indignantly.

”Mr. Marsden, have you gone out of your senses?”

”Yes, I think I have. And who's to blame? Who's driven me out of them?”

He was standing close in front of her, barring the path. ”Oh, I can't go on with all this deception. I lied to you just now. I knew you were coming here,--and I followed you. I felt I must once for all be with you alone.”

”Not another word. I will not listen.... Oh!”

Suddenly he had seized her. Roughly and fiercely he flung his arms round her, forced her to him, and kissed her.

”Mr. Marsden!... Shame!... How dare you?... Let me go.”

She was struggling in his arms, her head down, her two hands trying to keep him off. Her broad bosom panted, her big shoulders heaved; but with remorseless brutal use of his strength he held her tightly and closely against him.

”There,” he said. ”Don't fight. You'll have to go through it now.... You women think you can play the fool with a man--set all his blood on fire, and then tell him to behave himself.”

”Mr. Marsden, let me go--or I shall die of shame.”

”No you won't. Rot. D'you hear? Rot. You're a woman all through: and that face was made to be kissed--like this--like this.... There, this is my hour--”

”Will you let me go?”

”Yes, in a minute.... You'll dismiss me to-morrow, won't you? I'd better pack to-night. But I shall always go on loving you.... Oh, my goodness, what is my life to be without you?”

And suddenly he released her, dropped upon the seat, and buried his face in his hands.

She walked fast away--and then slowly returned. He was still sitting, with his head down, motionless.

”Mr. Marsden!... You have insulted me in the most outrageous manner--and the only possible excuse would be the absolute sincerity of the feelings that you have expressed so brutally. If I could for a moment believe--”

”Why can't you believe?”

”Because it is too absurd. I am no longer young--the mother of a girl old enough herself to marry.”

”I don't want any pasty-faced girls. I want _you_.”