Part 18 (1/2)
”Only for a little while,” he said gently. ”We'll both be back in the game soon, fitter than ever.”
”Never!” There was the sound of a shudder in the exclamation. ”How can one ever be the same after _that_----”
”You've been a brick! You mustn't give way now, after coming through so bravely.”
”How I hate Africa!” she exclaimed fiercely.
Druro could not help smiling.
”Poor old Africa! We all abuse her like a pickpocket and cling to her like a mother.”
”I don't cling. All I ask is never to see her again.”
”I don't wonder. She has not treated you too well.”
The smile faded from his lips, leaving them sombre. It was like looking into a dark window to see Lundi Druro's face without the gaiety of his eyes. At the same time, their absence threw up a quality of strength about his mouth and jaw that might have gone un.o.bserved. He was conscious of her attention acutely fixed upon him, but he could not know with what avid curiosity she was searching his features, or guess, fortunately for him, at the cold, clear thought that was pa.s.sing through her mind.
”How awful to have to drag a blind husband about the world! Still--the money will mitigate. I can always pay people to----” Then a thrill of pleasure shot through that bleak and desert thing which was her heart.
”He will never see me as I am now.”
Yes; this reflection actually gave her pleasure and content in Druro's tragedy. He, of all the world, would still think of her as she had been before the leopard puckered her throat and scarred her cheek with terrible scars. At the thought, her vanity, which was her soul, suddenly flowered forth again. Her voice softened; some of the old glamour came back into it.
”Will you take me away from this cruel country, Lundi--as soon as we are both better?”
To leave Africa, and that which Africa held! All Lundi Druro's blood called out, ”No,” but his firm lips answered gently:
”Yes; if you wish it,” then closed again as if set in stone.
”And never come back to it again?”
”That is a harder thing to promise, Marice,” he said. ”One never knows what life and fate may demand of one. My work might call me back here.”
”Yes, yes; that is true,” she said peevishly. ”The main thing is that you will never expect me to come back. But, of course, if you are blind, it will not be much use your coming either.”
The blow was unexpected, but he did not flinch.
She was the first person who had taken such a probability for granted; but he had long faced the contingency himself.
”If I am to be blind, we must reconstruct plans and promises, Marice.
They are made, as far as I am concerned, conditionally.”
”No; no conditions!” she cried feverishly. ”I am going to marry you, whether your eyes recover or not. Promise me you won't draw back, if the worst comes?”
She could not bear to lose him--this one man in all the world who would still think her beautiful. All her soul which was her vanity cried out pa.s.sionately to him.
”Of course I will promise you, dear, if you think it good enough,” he said, ”if you still want me and think a blind man can make you happy.”
”Yes; I want you blind,” she answered strangely. ”You can make me very happy.” Then she reached for the bell-b.u.t.ton and pressed it. Her nerves were giving out, and she needed to be alone. But the future was arranged for now, and she could rest. She made a subtle sign to the entering nurse, and Druro never guessed that he was being evicted by any one but the latter in her professional capacity. To be deceived is doubtless part of the terrible fate of the blind.
She had succeeded in deceiving Druro in more than this. Confirmed now in the belief that he was necessary to her happiness and that to fulfil his promises to her was the only way of honour, he knew that he must thrust the thought of Gay out of his mind for ever. Even in the grey misery of that decision, he could still feel a glow of grat.i.tude toward the woman who loved him enough to face the future with a blind man.