Part 5 (1/2)

She no longer felt old and wise, but young and helpless before the compulsion of the kindred soul. She owed him the truth, and in giving it she must risk his freedom and his happiness. Looking up at him, that sense of compulsion upon her, she said, ”It was because of Jane Amoret.

It was because I loved her and wanted to keep her.”

Christopher Darley grew paler than before. ”She is here?”

”Yes. She came this morning. She is upstairs, sleeping.”

”Rhoda saw her?”

”Yes.”

”And left her? To you?”

”Yes. Left her to me.”

He raised his head with a backward jerk and stared out of the window before him. She kept her eyes on his face, measuring its strength against hers. He was not measuring. He seemed to be seeing the beautiful and terrible things of which, he had told her, she was capable. She felt, when his eyes came back to her, that he had judged her.

”You see you can't,” he said gently.

”Can't what? Can't keep her, you mean, of course.”

”Anything but that. You can't abandon her--even for my sake.”

So that had been the judgment. He saw only beauty.

”I shan't abandon her. I shall always be able to see as much of her as I did of Rhoda, and more. And she is different from Rhoda. I shan't have the special joy of her, but I shall have the good.”

”Moreover,” he went on, with perfect gentleness, putting her words aside, ”I can't abandon Rhoda. All that you have said is true. But it doesn't go far enough. You yourself, you know, see life too much in terms of irony, of fact rather than faith. You've owned that Rhoda is adventurous and honest; you've owned that she doesn't lie to herself.

Then she has growth in her. No human being can be like a flower or a fish or a stone. It was mere literature, your saying that. Every human being has futures and futures within it. You know it really. Why you yourself, though you are so old and fixed, are different now from what you were an hour ago. I am different, of course. And Rhoda will be different, too. She won't disintegrate me. She'll make me very miserable, doubtless; she has already. And I shall make her angry. But I shall hold her, and she'll change. You shall see. I promise you. And you will keep Jane Amoret, and she will be eternally different because of you.”

Mrs. Delafield, while he spoke, had risen. She stood before him, grasping her gold chain on either side, her eyes very nearly level with his, and she summoned all her will, her strength, her wisdom to meet him. Yes, they had come to that, she and this boy.

”I accept all your faith,” she said. ”Only you must help me to make my world, and not yours, with it. Don't be afraid for Jane Amoret. I shall be firmly in her life. Rhoda shan't keep me out. She won't want to keep me out. Rhoda has far more chance of changing, of learning something from this experience, as a disconcerted and forgiven wife than as a sullen adventuress; and you--you will not be miserable; not with Rhoda, at all events; and you will be free. I am going to send a wire to Rhoda, at once, and tell her that I have reconsidered my advice to her. That, in itself, will show her how I managed her this morning. I shall tell her that she must go to London to-night, to her father. And to-morrow I'll take Jane Amoret up and bring Rhoda and Niel together.”

He took it all in, wide-eyed, he too now measuring the threat.

”You can't,” he said; ”I won't let you!”

”You'll have to let me. I have the fact on my side as well as the faith.

She wants to leave you. She wants only the excuse of being asked. You can't stop my giving her the excuse.” Yes, after all, her fact against his faith, she must have her way. What could his love for Rhoda and his feeling for herself do against the ironic fact that Rhoda, simply, was tired of him? ”You must see that you can't force her to stay,” she said.

”You couldn't even prevent her coming to me this morning.”

She looked at him with all the force of her advantage and saw that before the cruel fact, and her determination, he knew his helplessness.

It was, again, the bird arrested in its impulse; and a veil seemed to fall across his face, a shyness, almost a wildness to shut them out from each other. He dropped his eyes before her.

”Dear Mr. Darley, my dear young friend, see that it's best. See that it's best all round. See it with me,” she begged. ”I was wrong this morning; wrong from the very first. Let it come to that only. Count yourself out. It was of myself, of my own delight in the child that I was thinking. No, not even thinking; I tried to think it was for her; but it was my own feeling that decided. If you had never come, it would still have been right to give her up--though I should never have seen it unless you'd come. It was almost a crime that I committed. They had asked me to implore her to go back; they trusted me. And I prevented the message coming to her. I did not believe the things I said to her--not as she thought I believed them. I did not care a rap about her dignity; you saw the falsity at once. I cared only about keeping Jane Amoret.”

He stood there before her, remote, unmoved, with downcast, unanswering eyes.