Part 32 (1/2)

”Rose, I must save you from yourself. Some day you will thank me for it.”

”I wish you would let me alone. I do not want you to save me. I wish I had never seen you. I hate you from morning to night. I wish you would go where I could never see your face or hear your voice again!”

”You are angry now, Rose. But have you not been cross long enough?

Come, sit down, and let us talk, not of the past, but of the future.

Let us try and make it happier.”

He was approaching her as he spoke; and she put out her hands and waved him away. ”Do not dare to come near me!” she cried. ”Not one step further! You shall not put a finger on me. I will not listen to your voice. Let me go away from your presence.”

He sat down, covering his face with his hands, and he was still as a stone. But Rose felt that he was on guard, and that resistance or entreaty would be alike useless. So she threw herself on a sofa, shut her eyes, and began to sing.

The whole appearance and atmosphere of the woman were now repellant; and a great indignation burned in Antony's heart. He said to himself that he had done wrong to tolerate so long the evil spirit in his wife and home. He had forgiven practically what he ought to refuse to forgive at all. He had encouraged sin by enduring it. And he had done so because he loved the sinner. ”But I shall do what is right in the future!” he said.

Then he rose up, and Rose, who was watching him from beneath her nearly closed eyelids, was startled by the new man she saw. He looked taller, his countenance was stern, and he told the coachman to take away the carriage in a voice that was quite new to her. But she went on humming her song, and watching developments. So all the night the gas burned, and Antony sat guarding his wife, and his wife looked at him, and sang at him, and paraded herself about the room to irritate him. But about three o'clock she was very weary, and she fell into a deep sleep. Then Antony rose and looked at her. Her head was hanging off the pillow, and one of her feet nearly touched the floor. He lifted it gently, placed the dear poppy-crowned head comfortably on the pillow, threw an Afghan over the sleeping form, and with one long farewell look went quietly out of the room.

The dance was then over, and the bitterest night of his life was over. He had watched against Indians; he had watched against death in mines, and camps, and lonely gorges in the mountains; he had watched the life-breaths of his little daughter pa.s.s away, night after night, in weary painfulness; but such a terrible watch as this one, beside his wilfully wicked wife, he had never conceived of as possible. He was weary to death, and her cruel words remained in his heart like arrows.

He went to his room, and after writing for some time he drank a cup of coffee and left the house. At the stables he got a horse and buggy, and drove over to Miss Alida's. He met Harry just outside the gate, and he called him.

”I was trying to catch the early train,” explained Harry. ”Is anything wrong? Why are you here before seven o'clock?”

”Come with me. I have something to say to you, Harry.”

Then Harry sent back his own buggy, and seated himself beside Antony.

”Where are you going?” he asked; ”there is no station up this road.”

”It is quiet. That is enough. Listen, Harry.” Then he gave his friend and brother a brief outline of the life he had led, and of Rose's behavior on the previous night. He made few complaints, he merely stated facts; but Harry understood what was not told.

”She says she hates me. She never wants to see my face again. She never wants to hear me speak to her more. I think my presence irritates her and makes her cross and cruel. I am going to my place in the Harqua Hala Range. I ought to have been there long ago. They are finding gold there. When Rose is sorry, you will let me know?”

He was quietly weeping, and not at all conscious of the circ.u.mstance; and Harry was burning with anger at his wrongs. ”It was a bad day for you, Antony, when the Filmers came into your life,” he said. ”You have flung your love away on Rose, and your gold away on me. I do not know what I shall do without you. You are the greatest soul I ever met. Do not go away, Antony!”

”There is nothing else to be done. I have worn out her patience, and she has worn out mine. Be kind to her; and when you have an opportunity, say a kind word for me.”

Far into the morning they talked, and then Antony drove to the station, and went his lonely way, too miserable to think of adieus, too ashamed and heart-broken to bear more, either of advice or consolation. Harry watched his thin, sorrowful face out of sight; and at the last moment lifted his hat to so much departing love and worth.

Then he drove as fast as his horse could take him to the Filmer place.

Rose had awakened from her sleep, and had had her breakfast. She was miserable in all her being. Her head ached; her heart ached. She was humiliated and chagrined, and the thought of Antony haunted her and would not let her rest. Also the house was miserable. Everything was waiting on Antony. Some of the things to be taken to the city were already packed; others were lying on the chairs and tables, and the servants were each and all taking their own ill way about affairs.

Rose could think of nothing but an order to let the packing alone until Mr. Van Hoosen returned; but there was a most unsettled feeling through the house, and she was quite aware nothing was being done that ought to be done.

She was greatly relieved to see Harry coming. Harry was the one member of her family whom she regarded. He had not offended in the Duval matter, and so it was generally through Harry she was influenced to do what was required of her. But this morning Harry gave her back no smile; he did not answer her greeting, and when she offered her hand, he put it crossly away.

”Rose,” he said, ”you have managed to behave abominably for a long time. But your conduct last night is unpardonable. If you were my wife I would shut you up in a madhouse until you put your senses above your temper.”

”Thanks! I am not your wife, I am happy to say. No one but the divine Adriana could----”

”Stop your foolish chatter! You have driven your husband from you, at last. Now I hope you are satisfied.”