Part 55 (1/2)

Releasing herself, she put her hand upon his lips to silence him.

”You have made your confession,” she said earnestly, with the serene dignity which had impressed him in the first moment of their meeting, ”and now I will make mine. You must not stop me; you must not look at me until I finish. Promise.”

”I promise to keep silent,” he answered, with his gaze upon her.

She drew away from him, keeping her eyes full on his, and holding him at arm's length with the tips of her fingers. He felt that she was still shaken by his embrace--that she was still in a quiver from his kisses; but to all outward seeming she had regained the n.o.ble composure of her bearing.

”No, no. Ah, listen, my friend, and do not touch me. What I must tell you is this, and you must hear me patiently to the end. I have loved you always--from the first day; since the beginning.

There has never been any one else, and there has never been a moment in my life when I would not have followed you had you lifted a finger anywhere. At first I did not know--I did not believe it. It was but a pa.s.sing fancy, I thought, that you had murdered. I taught myself to believe that I was cold, inhuman, because I did not warm to other men. Oh, I did not know then that I was not stone, but ice, which would melt at the first touch of the true flame .”

”Maria!” he burst out in a cry of anguish.

”Hus.h.!.+ Hus.h.!.+ Remember your promise. It was not until afterward,”

she went on in the same quiet voice; ”it was not until my marriage--not until my soul shuddered back from his embraces and I dreamed of you, that I began to see--to understand.”

”Oh, Maria, my beloved, if I had known!”

She still held him from her with her outstretched arm.

”It was the knowledge of this that made me feel that I had wronged him--that I had defrauded him of the soul of love and given him only the poor flesh. It was this that held me to him all those wretched years--that kept me with him till the end, even through his madness. At last I buried your memory, told myself that I had forgotten.”

”We will let the world go, dearest,” he said pa.s.sionately. ”Come to me.”

But she shook her head, and, still smiling, held him at a distance.

”It will never go,” she answered, ”for it is not the world's way.

But whatever comes to us, there is one thing you must remember--that you must never forget for one instant while you live. In good or evil, in life or death, there is no height so high nor any depth so low that I will not follow you.”

Then waving him from her with a decisive gesture, she turned from him and went swiftly home across the moonlit fields.

CHAPTER VI. Treats of the Tragedy Which Wears a Comic Mask

As she hastened on, Christopher's presence was still with her--his arm still enveloped her, his voice still spoke in her ears; and so rapt was the ecstasy in which she moved that it was with a positive shock that she found herself presently before the little area which led into the brick kitchen in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Hall. Here from the darkness her name was spoken in a stifled voice, while a hand reached out and clutched her by the shoulder.

”I say, Maria, I've been waiting hours to speak to you.”

Forcing back the cry upon her lips, she opened the door and stole softly into the kitchen. Then, turning, she faced Will with a frightened gesture.

”How reckless--how very reckless!” she exclaimed in a whisper.

He closed the door that led up into the house, and coming over to the stove, where the remains of a fire still smouldered in a deep red glow, stood looking at her with nervous twitches of his reddened eyelids. There was a wildness in his face before which she fell back appalled, and his whole appearance, from the damp hair lying in streaks upon his forehead to his restless feet which he shuffled continually as he talked, betrayed an agitation so extreme as to cause her a renewed pang of foreboding.

”Oh, Will, you have been drinking again!” she said, in the same frightened whisper.

”And why not?” he demanded, throwing out his words between thick breaths. ”What business is it of yours or of anybody else's if I have been? A pretty sister you are--aren't you?--to let a fellow rot away on a tobacco farm while you wear diamonds on your fingers.”

She looked at him steadily for a moment, and his s.h.i.+fting glance fell slowly to the floor.

”If you are in any fresh trouble you may as well tell me at once,” she said. ”It is a mere waste of time and breath to reproach me. You can't possibly make me angry to-night, for I wear an armour of which you do not dream, and so little a thing as abuse does not even touch me. Besides, grandfather may hear us and come down at any moment. So speak quickly.”