Part 25 (2/2)
There was nothing sanctimonious or puritanical about Jack Yelverton.
The words he uttered came direct from his faithful, honest heart.
”And yet you love her!” I remarked, amazed. ”That's just it. My admiration of her grace and beauty ripened into love before I was aware of it. I struggled against it, but became overwhelmed. Had she not feigned sincerity and taken up the work that I was doing, I should, I believe, have proposed marriage to her. But her action in trying to appear solicitous after the welfare of the sick, when I knew that her thoughts were all of the world, caused me a revulsion of feeling which ended in my resignation and escape.”
”Escape!” I echoed. ”One would think that you had fled from some feared catastrophe.”
”I did fear a catastrophe,” he declared. ”I feared that I should marry and become devoted to my wife, instead of to my Master. Ah! Clifton, mine is a strange, a very strange position. You may think my words extremely foolish, but you cannot understand the circ.u.mstances aright.
If you did, you would see why I acted as I have done.”
”You acted quite wisely, I think,” said I. ”None could blame you for seeking a country curacy in such circ.u.mstances. To be thus run after by a woman is positively sickening.”
”Ah, there you are mistaken!” he exclaimed quickly. ”She didn't run after me. It was I who, attracted by her beauty, showed her by my actions that I loved her. From the first it was my own fault entirely.
I have only myself to reproach.”
”But you cannot actually reproach yourself, if you are still fond of her.”
”Fond of her? I adore her!” he cried. ”I only wish I did not. Have I not told you how I've fought against this feeling? Yet what's the use of striving against the deepest and most overwhelming pa.s.sion in the world?”
”Could you not be happy with her, and yet live as upright, honest, and holy a life as you now do?” I suggested. ”Does not the holy proverb say that a man who takes a wife obtains favour with the Lord?”
”Yes,” he answered. ”But as I have explained, it is easier for the man to devote himself to religious work when he is single than when he has a wife to occupy his thoughts. He must neglect the one or the other. Of that I am convinced. Besides, I have vowed to G.o.d to serve Him alone, and with His a.s.sistance I will do so. I will!” and his hands clenched themselves in the fierceness of his words.
Next day I drove my sister into Stamford, and having put up at that well-known old hostelry, the George, she went to do some shopping while I sauntered forth determined to make what inquiries I could of Muriel's whereabouts. All her relatives were in ignorance. One of them, an aunt, had received a brief note saying that she had left Madame Gabrielle's, and would send her new address. But she had not done so.
From place to place I went, ever with the same question upon my lips, but ever receiving a similar reply. Muriel was utterly lost to all, as to me.
About six o'clock we set out to drive home, but the dull day had culminated in wet, and our journey was in the teeth of a tempestuous wind which drove the rain full into our faces, and made us both very uncomfortable. We had pa.s.sed Worthorpe, and were halfway towards Colly Weston, on the high road to Duddington, when we approached a female figure in a black mackintosh cape, with difficulty holding her umbrella in the boisterous wind. She was walking towards Stamford, and my sister catching sight of her as we rapidly approached, said--
”I hope that woman is enjoying it.”
It was already half dark, and the road was ankle-deep in mud, yet she strode on determinedly, heedless of the rough weather, and bent upon reaching the town before night fell entirely. At that part of the road it is flat and open--straight across a highway cut years ago through the Rockingham forest, which covered that part of the country, but the land is now divested of trees and cultivated.
Her face was set straight in the direction of Stamford, and with her umbrella held down firmly she did not notice our approach until just as we pa.s.sed and our high wheels spattered her with mud. She drew her umbrella aside in surprise and looked up.
In an instant we had left her behind, but in that brief s.p.a.ce of time I recognised her.
There could be no mistaking that face. It was a countenance which, once seen, rivetted itself upon the memory for ever because of its wondrous loveliness.
It was Aline Cloud.
Quickly I glanced back, but it was evident that with my hat drawn down over my eyes, and my collar turned up I was sufficiently disguised to escape recognition. She did not turn, but trudged on through the mud towards the town far across the valley, where the distant lights were already beginning to glimmer.
I was utterly mystified; and the more so when, a quarter of an hour later, just as we turned the sharp corner to descend the hill into Duddington, we overtook and wished good evening to Jack Yelverton, who was striding along in our direction.
He started suddenly, laughed nervously when I hailed him, and then kept on his way.
Had he walked from Stamford, I wondered.
But next second the suspicion grew upon me that he had kept a secret appointment somewhere on that bleak open road, and that the person he had met was Aline, the Woman of Evil.
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