Part 54 (2/2)

And it was thus that he found her. For the first time for many weary weeks and months he was alone with her; for the first time he could speak to her freely and from his heart. He knew not what it was that had made her send for him, or why it was that he had come. He did not remember her note, or that she had said that she had something for him. All he knew was, that she had sent for him, and that he was with her.

There was the gate between them, but her white soft hands were clasped loosely together over the top of it. He took them feverishly between his own.

”I am late--you have waited for me, dear? Oh, Vera, how glad I am to be with you!”

There was a dangerous tenderness in his voice that frightened her. She tried to draw away her hands.

”I had something for you, or I should not have sent--please, Captain Kynaston--Maurice--please let my hands go.”

He was alone under the star-flecked heavens with the woman he loved, there was all the witchery of the pale moonlight about her, all the sweet perfumes of the summer night to intensify the fascination of her presence. There was a nameless glamour in the luminous dimness--a subtle seduction to the senses in the silence and the solitude; a bird chirruped once among the tangled roses overhead, and a soft, sighing breeze fluttered for one instant amid its long, trailing branches. And then, G.o.d knows how it came to pa.s.s, or what madness possessed the man; but suddenly there was no longer any faith, or honour, or truth for him--nothing on the face of the whole earth but Vera.

He caught her pa.s.sionately in his arms, and showered upon her lips the maddest, wildest kisses that man ever gave to woman.

For one instant she lay still upon his heart; all the fury of her misery was at rest--all the storm of her sorrow was at peace--for one instant of time she tasted of life's sublimest joy ere the waters of blackness and despair closed in once more over her soul. For one instant only--then she remembered, and withdrew herself shudderingly from his grasp.

”For G.o.d's sake, have pity upon me, Maurice!” she wailed. It was the cry of a broken heart that appealed to his manhood and his honour more surely and more directly than a torrent of reproach or a storm of indignation.

”Forgive me,” he murmured, humbly; ”I am a brute to you. I had forgotten myself. I ought to have spared you, sweet. See, I have let you go; I will not touch you again; but it was hard to see you alone, to be near you, and yet to remember how we are parted. Vera, I have ruined your life; it is wonderful that you do not hate me.”

”A true woman never hates the man who has been hard on her,” she answered, smiling sadly.

”If it is any comfort to you to know it, I too am wretched; now it is too late: I know that my life is spoilt also.”

”No; why should that comfort me?” she said, wearily. She leant half back against the gate--if he could have seen her well in the uncertain light, he would have been shocked at the worn and haggard face of his beautiful Vera.

Presently she spoke again.

”I am sorry that I asked you to come--it was not wise, was it, Maurice?

How long must you stop at Kynaston? Can you not go away? We are neither of us strong enough to bear this--I, I cannot go--but you, _must_ you be always here?”

”Before G.o.d,” he answered, earnestly, ”I swear to you that I will go away if it is in my power to go.”

”Thank you.” Then, with an effort, she roused herself to speak to him: ”But that is not what I wanted to say; let me tell you why I sent for you. I made a promise, a wretched, stupid thing, to a tiresome little man I met in London--a Monsieur D'Arblet, a Frenchman; do you know him?”

”D'Arblet! I never heard the name in my life that I know of.”

”Really, that seems odd, for I have a little parcel from him to you, and, strangely enough, he made me promise on my word of honour to give it to you when no one was near. I did not know how to keep my promise, for, though we may sometimes meet in public, we are not often likely to meet alone. I have it here; let me give it to you and have done with the thing; it has been on my mind.”

She drew a small packet from her pocket, and was about to give it to him, when suddenly his ear caught the sound of an approaching footstep; he looked nervously round, then he put forth his hand quickly and stopped her.

”Hush, give me nothing now!” he said, in a low, hurried voice. ”To-morrow we shall meet at Shadonake; if you will go near the Bath some time during the day after lunch is over, I will join you there, and you can give it to me; it can be of no possible importance; go in now quickly; good-night. It is my wife.”

She turned and fled swiftly back to the house through the darkness, and Maurice was left face to face with Helen.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

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