Part 26 (2/2)
She trembled under it like leaves in the wind and lifted her eyes to his. They looked long into each other's souls through those windows which can wear so many veils to hide the truth. But, in that moment, the veils were lifted, and both saw Truth in all her naked terror and beauty. What he saw scorched and repelled but did not daunt him; instead, a n.o.bler love, chivalrous and pitiful, was born of the sight.
And she saw that love, and knew it great enough to clothe her even if she came to him stripped of fair repute and the world's honours.
”Yes; it is enough,” she said brokenly, and cast a thing she wore about her neck to the floor. Then, suddenly, she collapsed in her chair and fell into a fit of dry weeping. Long, bitter sobs shook her frame and seemed to tear their way out of her body. She was like a woman wrenched upon the rack. Harlenden could do nothing but stand and wait, his own face twisted with pain, until the storm was past. Gradually it died away, with longer and longer intervals between the shuddering sighs. At last, she uncovered her face, bleached and ravaged by the tearless storm, yet wearing a gentler beauty than ever it had known, and rose trembling to her feet.
”Take me home, Denis,” she whispered. He wrapped her veil about her and she felt the thrill of his hands upon her, but he did not kiss her.
They had come closer to each other than any kiss could bring them.
Just as they were pa.s.sing from the room, she remembered something and stepped back.
”I must touch that vile thing again,” she said, ”because it does not belong to me and must go back to where it came from.” She stooped and picked the black, glittering object from the floor.
A spasm contracted Harlenden's face, but he asked no question.
Silently they went from the house and into the dark streets. There was no moon. At her gate, he stooped and kissed her lips.
Mrs. Ozanne got up the morning of the following day with the urgent feeling on her of something to be done. It seemed as if there were some move to be made that would help her and her children in their unhappiness, only she didn't know what the move was. But she always remembered, afterward, with what feverish urgency she dressed, putting on walking-things instead of a wrapper, and stepping from her room into the bustling atmosphere of the house with a determined indifference to the tasks and interests that usually occupied her attention.
Rosalie was as surprised to see her mother dressed for going out as was the mother to find her daughter at the breakfast-table.
”Why, Rosalie, my darling, this is an unexpected joy!”
”Yes, mother; I thought I would make an effort.”
It was the first time that the girl had been out of her room for over two weeks, and she looked frail as a snowdrop, and nearly as white.
”You can't have two daughters sick abed, you know,” she added, with a wistful smile.
”Is Rosanne still----” Mrs. Ozanne often left questions and remarks about her other daughter unfinished.
The latter had spent the whole of the previous day in her room, seeming physically unable to leave her bed.
”Yes; I'm afraid she's really ill. She just lies there, not speaking or eating, and she looks--oh, mother, she looks so unhappy!”
”I begged her yesterday to see the doctor.”
”She says no doctor can do her any good, and that we must just leave her alone. I fancy she's thinking out something that she's terribly worried about.”
”There is something wrong,” said the mother heavily. ”Oh, Rosalie, if she were only like you, and would not hide her heart from those who love her!”
”We can't all be alike, mother darling! Rosanne has a stronger character for better or worse than I have. It is easy for me to throw my troubles on other people's shoulders, but she is capable of bearing in silence far greater sorrows, and of making far greater sacrifices.”
”It is not a happy nature,” sighed her mother. ”I wonder if Kitty Drummund can do any good if I send for her?”
”Better not, mother. She says she wants to see no one at present, and you know she was at Kitty's the night before last.”
”I have asked her so often not to go out at night like that--even to Kitty's. I dare say she caught cold driving.”
”Poor Rosanne! It is more than a cold she has!”
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