Part 26 (2/2)
”Tell you the truth,” she cried in a hoa.r.s.e strained voice. ”No, no, not to you--never. You would loathe and hate me then--you the man who now loves me.”
”Say also the man you love,” I urged tenderly, her hands still in mine.
Her lips compressed as her tearful eyes turned themselves upon me. She sighed convulsively, and then with a slight catch in her tremulous voice confessed with a sad sweet smile--
”Yes, Willoughby--the man I love.”
I clasped her in my arms. I felt the heaving of her breast, my throbbing heart kept pace with that within her bosom. My lips met hers--oh!--what a melting kiss. Love held my heart, entangling every thought.
And yet what changes in our fates must here be registered; what an acc.u.mulated scene of bliss and wretchedness must stain the pages that are to follow.
Ah! if I could at that moment have read what was written upon my love's heart--if I could but have torn aside that veil of mystery enveloping her--if I could but have known the truth concerning that man I had found cold, stark and dead beneath the stars! How differently I would have acted.
I had thought that her love for me would induce her to tell me something of the past, yet as she stood in my embrace she was still persistent in her silence, until it seemed that she really feared lest, knowing the true facts, my affection might turn to hatred. I implored, I argued, I expressed profound regret to no avail. She would tell me nothing-- absolutely nothing.
”I must suffer,” was her hard reply. ”I am a woman who is the sport of circ.u.mstance. Yes,” she added, ”I love you, Willoughby, but in a few hours will end my brief life of ecstasy. When I am dead--then will you know the reason why to-night my lips are sealed.”
At that instant a rap at the door caused me to release her quickly and spring aside.
A waiter who stood upon the threshold announced--
”Mr Logan, m'lady.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
INTRODUCES A MAN WITH A HISTORY.
Mention of the name of Logan placed me instantly on the alert. It was surely the man whom I had seen with her in the wood in the early hours of the morning following the tragedy--the same whom I had encountered with Mademoiselle in Chelsea--the same, I believe, who had lived in such suspicious seclusion at Hayes's Farm.
”Tell him I am engaged at present,” exclaimed my love, facing the waiter without betraying the least anxiety. She was, of course, not aware that I knew the name of the man with whom I had seen her on that fateful morning. Therefore she affected a carelessness that utterly amazed me.
Could it be that that bowl of flowers had been placed in the window as a signal to him, and that he had disregarded it and come to her?
The slightly pursed lips betrayed her annoyance at his presence, but beyond that she treated the man's announcement with calm indifference.
Was this broad-shouldered man her accomplice--or perhaps her lover, that she should thus communicate with him in secret? How my mind struggled to be free; how my restless reason combated with my love. I tried, but could not contradict the glaring truth which impressed itself upon my soul; and yet, though I was urged to a conviction, I could not act upon the principles which subdued me.
I could learn stoicism and be the calm philosopher in every pa.s.sion, save only love; but he was my divinity, and like a defenceless babe within the giant's grasp, all struggles to evade him were but vain.
Fool that I was! poor doting fool, how had I quaffed the sweet illusions of hope only to feel the venom of despair more poignant to my soul.
”You have a caller,” I said in a hard blank voice. ”Perhaps I had better leave you?”
”Oh,” she answered, ”there really is no necessity for you to go. He may wait--he's quite an unimportant person.”
”Named Logan--is he not?”
”Yes,” she replied rather faintly, with a strange smile.
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