Part 13 (1/2)

XIV

BROWN'S TRIAL BY FIRE

He had gone alone into a den of Atchison's, where was kept a medley of books and pipes and weapons, a bachelor collection of trophies of all sorts. He was in search of a certain loving-cup which had been mentioned and asked for, and Atchison himself had for the moment left the apartment to see an insistent caller below. The den was at some distance from the place where the company was a.s.sembled, and Brown could hear their voices only in the remote distance as he searched. Suddenly a light sound as of the movement of silken draperies fell upon his ear, and at the same instant a low voice spoke. He swung about, to see a figure before him at sight of which, alone as he had been with it for months, he felt his unsubdued heart leap in his breast. By her face he knew she had followed him for a purpose. He let her speak.

”Donald Brown,” she said--and she spoke fast and breathlessly, as if she feared, as he did, instant interruption and this were her only chance--”what you have said to-night makes me forget everything but what I want you to know.”

Quite evidently her heart was beating synchronously with his, for he could see how it shook her. He stared at her, at the lovely line and colour of cheek and chin, at the wonderful shadowed eyes, at the soft darkness of her heavy hair. She was wearing misty white to-night, with one great red rose upon her breast; she was such a sight as might well blind a man, even if he were not already blind with love of her. The fragrance of the rose was in his nostrils--it a.s.sailed his senses as if it were a part of her, its fragrance hers. But he did not speak.

”You asked me something once,” she went on, with an evident effort.

”Would you mind telling me if--if--”

But he would not help her. He could not believe he understood what she meant to say.

”You make it very hard for me,” she murmured. ”Yet I believe I understand why, if this thing is ever said at all, I must be the one to say it. Do you--Donald--do you--still--care?”

”_O G.o.d_!” he cried in his heart. ”_O G.o.d! Couldn't You have spared me this_?”

But aloud, after an instant, he said, a little thickly, ”I think you know without asking. I shall never stop caring.”

She lifted her eyes. ”Then--” and she waited.

He must speak. She had done her part. His head swam with the sudden astounding revelation that she was his for the taking, if--Ah, but the _if_! He knew too well what that must mean.

”Are you tempting me, too?” he asked, with sudden fierceness. ”Do you mean--like all the rest--I may have you if--I give up my purpose and stay here?”

Mutely her eyes searched his. Dumb with the agony of it his searched hers in return. He turned away.

”Don!” Her voice was all low music. The words vibrated appealingly; she had seen what it meant to him. She put out one hand as if to touch him--and drew it back. ”Listen to me, please. I know--I know--what a wonderful sacrifice you are making. I admire and honour you for it--I do.

But--think once more. This great parish--surely there is work for you here, wonderful work. Won't you do it--_with me_?”

He looked at her with sudden decision on his course.

”You left that photograph?” He spoke huskily.

She nodded.

”You left it there, in my poor house. I've cherished it there. It hasn't suffered. You wouldn't suffer. Will you live--and work--with me--_there_?”

”Oh!” She drew back. ”How can you--Do you realize what you ask?”

”I don't ask it expecting to receive it. I know it's impossible--from your viewpoint. But--it's--all I have to ask--”

He broke off, fighting savagely with the desire to seize her in his arms that was all but overmastering him.

She moved away a step in her turn, standing, with down-bent head, the partial line of her profile, the curve of her neck and beautiful shoulder, presenting an even greater appeal to the devouring flame of his longing than her eyes had done. It seemed to him that he would give the heart out of his body even to press his lips upon that fair flesh just below the low-drooping ma.s.ses of her hair, flesh exquisite as a child's in contrast with the dark locks above it. All the long months of his exile pressed upon him with mighty force to urge him to a.s.suage his loneliness with this divine balm.