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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17048-8.txt b/17048-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a55910 --- /dev/null +++ b/17048-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8761 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man and the Moment, by Elinor Glyn + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Man and the Moment + +Author: Elinor Glyn + +Release Date: November 11, 2005 [EBook #17048] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN AND THE MOMENT *** + + + + +Produced by Stacy Brown Thellend, Suzanne Shell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "It all looked very intimate and lover-like" +[Page 149]] + + + + +THE MAN AND THE MOMENT + +BY + +ELINOR GLYN + +1914 + +AUTHOR OF "GUINEVERE'S LOVER," "HALCYONE," +"THE REASON WHY," ETC. + + +[Illustration] + + +Illustrated by +R.F. James + +NEW YORK +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +1914 + +Copyright, 1914, by +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + * * * * * + +Copyright, 1914, by The Red Book Corporation + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + FACING PAGE + +"It all looked very intimate and lover-like" + _Frontispiece_ + +"He bounded forward to meet her" 48 + +"His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant" 64 + +"'He is often in some scrape--something must have + culminated to-night'" 224 + + + + +THE MAN AND THE MOMENT + + +CHAPTER I + + +Michael Arranstoun folded a letter which he had been reading for the +seventh time, with a vicious intentness, and then jumping up from the +big leather chair in which he had been buried, he said aloud, "Damn!" + +When a young, rich and good-looking man says that particular word aloud +with a fearful grind of the teeth, one may know that he is in the very +devil of a temper! + +Michael Arranstoun was! + +And, to be sure, he had ample reason, as you, my friend, who may happen +to have begun this tale, will presently see. + +It is really most irritating to be suddenly confronted with the +consequences of one's follies at any age, but at twenty-four, when +otherwise the whole life is smiling for one, it seems quite too hard. + +The frightful language this well-endowed young gentleman now indulged +in, half aloud and half in thought, would be quite impossible to put on +paper! It contained what almost amounted to curses for a certain lady +whose appearance, could she have been seen at this moment, suggested +that of a pious little saint. + +"How the h---- can I keep from marrying her!" Mr. Arranstoun said more +than aloud this time, and then kicking an innocent footstool across the +room, he called his bulldog, put on his cap and stamped out on to the +old stone balcony which opened from this apartment, and was soon +stalking down the staircase and across the lawn to a little door in the +great fortified wall, which led into the park. + +He had hardly left the room when, from the wide arched doorway of his +bed-chamber beyond, there entered Mr. Johnson, his superior valet, +carrying some riding-boots and a silk shirt over his arm. You could see +through the open door that it was a very big and comfortable bedroom, +which had evidently been adapted to its present use from some much more +stately beginning. A large, vaulted chamber it was, with three narrow +windows looking on to the grim courtyard beneath. + +Michael Arranstoun had selected this particular suite for himself when +his father died ten years before, and his mother was left to spoil him, +until she, too, departed from this world when he was sixteen. + +What a splendid inheritance he had come into! This old border castle up +in the north--and not a mortgage on the entire property! While, from his +mother, a number of solid golden sovereigns flowed into his coffers +every year--obtained by trade! That was a little disgusting for the +Arranstouns--but extremely useful. + +It might have been from this same strain that the fortunate young man +had also inherited that common sense which made him fairly level-headed, +and not given as a rule to any over-mad taste. + +The Arranstouns had been at Arranstoun since the time of those tiresome +Picts and Scots--and for generations they had raided their neighbors' +castles and lands, and carried off their cattle and wives and daughters +and what not! They had seized anything they fancied, and were a strong, +ruthless, brutal race, not much vitiated by civilization. These +instincts of seizing what they wanted had gone on in them throughout +eleven hundred years and more, and were there until this day, when +Michael, the sole representative of this branch of the family, said +"Damn!" and kicked a footstool across the room into the grate. + +Mr. Johnson was quite aware of the peculiarity of the family. Indeed, he +was not surprised when Alexander Armstrong remarked upon it presently. +Alexander Armstrong was the old retainer, who now enjoyed the position +of guide to the Castle upon the two days a week when tourists were +allowed to walk through the state rooms, and look at the splendid +carvings and armor and pictures, and the collection of plate. + +Johnson had had time to glance over his master's correspondence that +morning, which, with characteristic recklessness, that gentleman had +left upon his bed while he went to his bath, so his servant knew the +cause of his bad temper, and had been prudent and kept a good deal out +of the way. But the news was so interesting, he felt Alexander Armstrong +really ought to share the thrill. + +"Mrs. Hatfield's husband is dying," he announced, as Armstrong, very +diffidently, peeped through the window from the balcony, and then, +seeing no one but his friend the valet, entered the room. + +Alexander Armstrong spoke in broad Scotch, but I shall not attempt to +transcribe this barbaric language; sufficient to tell you that he made +the excuse for his intrusion by saying that he had wanted to get some +order from the master about the tourists. + +"We shan't have any tourists when she's installed here as mistress!" Mr. +Johnson remarked sepulchrally. + +Armstrong was heard to murmur that he did not know what Mr. Johnson +meant! This was too stupid! + +"Why, I told you straight off Mrs. Hatfield's husband is dying," Johnson +exclaimed, contemptuously. "She wrote one of her mauve billy doos this +morning, telling the master so, and suggesting they'd soon be able to be +married and happy--pretty cold-blooded, I call it, considering the poor +man is not yet in his grave!" + +Armstrong was almost knocked over by this statement; then he +laughed--and what he said meant in plain English that Mr. Johnson need +not worry himself, for no Arranstoun had ever been known to be coerced +into any course of conduct which he did not desire himself--not being +hampered by consideration for women, or by any consideration but his own +will. For the matter of that, a headstrong, ruthless race all of them +and, as Mr. Johnson must be very well aware, their own particular master +was a true chip of the old block. + +"See his bonny blue eye--" (I think he pronounced it "ee"), "see his +mouth shut like a game spring. See his strong arms and his height! See +him smash the boughs off trees when they get in his way! and then tell +me a woman's going to get dominion over him. Go along, Mr. Johnson!" + +But Johnson remained unconvinced and troubled; he had had several +unpleasant proofs of woman's infernal cunning in his own sphere of life, +and Mrs. Hatfield, he knew, was as well endowed with Eve's wit as any +French maid. + +"We'll ha' a bet about it if you like," Armstrong remarked, as he got up +to go, the clock striking three. He knew the first batch of afternoon +tourists would be clamoring at the gate. + +Mr. Johnson looked at the riding-boots in his hand. + +"He went straight off for his ride without tasting a bite of breakfast +or seeing Mr. Fordyce, and he didn't return to lunch, and just now I +find every article of clothing strewn upon the floor--when he came in +and took another bath--he did not even ring for me--he must have +galloped all the time; his temper would frighten a fighting cock." + +Meanwhile, Michael Arranstoun was tramping his park with giant strides, +and suddenly came upon his friend and guest, Henry Fordyce, whose very +presence in his house he had forgotten, so turbulent had his thoughts +been ever since the early post came in. Henry Fordyce was a leisurely +creature, and had come out for a stroll on the exquisite June day upon +his own account. + +They exchanged a few remarks, and gradually got back to Michael's +sitting-room again, and rang for drinks. + +Mr. Fordyce had, by this time, become quite aware that an active volcano +was going on in his friend, but had waited for the first indication of +the cause. It came in the course of a conversation, after the footman +had left the room and both men were reclining in big chairs with their +iced whiskey and soda. + +"It is a shame to stay indoors on such a day," Henry said lazily, +looking out upon the balcony and the glittering sunshine. + +"I never saw anyone enjoy a holiday like you do, Henry," Michael +retorted, petulantly. "I can't enjoy anything lately. 'Pon my soul, it +is worth going into Parliament to get such an amount of pleasure out of +a week's freedom." + +But Henry did not agree that it was freedom, when even here at +Arranstoun he had been pestered to patronize the local bazaar. + +"The penalty of greatness! I wonder when you will be prime minister. +Lord, what a grind!" + +Mr. Fordyce stretched himself in his chair and lit a cigar. + +"It may be a grind," he said, meditatively, "but it is for some definite +idea of good--even if I am a slave; whereas you!--you are tied and bound +to a woman--and such a woman! You have not been able to call your soul +your own since last October as it is--and before you know where you are, +you will be attending the husband's funeral and your own wedding in the +same week!" + +Michael bounded from his chair with an oath. "I'll be shot if I do!" he +said, and sat down again. Then his voice grew a little uncertain, and he +went on: + +"It is worrying me awfully, though, Henry. If poor old Maurice does puff +out--I suppose I ought to marry her--I----" + +Mr. Fordyce stiffened, and the sleepy look in his gray eyes altered to a +flash of steel. + +"Let us have a little plain speaking, Michael, old boy. It is not as +though I do not know the whole circumstance of your affair with Violet +Hatfield. I warned you about her in the beginning, when you met her at +my sister Rose's, but, as usual, you would take your own course----" + +Michael began to speak, but checked himself--and Henry Fordyce went on. + +"I have had a letter from Rose this morning--as you of course know, +Violet is staying for this Whitsuntide with them, having dragged her +wretched husband, dying of consumption as he is, to this merry party. +Well--Rose says poor Maurice is in a terrible state, caught a fresh cold +on Saturday--and she adds, 'So I suppose we shall soon see Violet +installed at Arranstoun as mistress.'" + +"I know--I heard from Violet herself this morning," and Michael put his +head down dejectedly. + +"Ebbsworth is only thirty-five miles from here," Mr. Fordyce announced +with meaning. "Violet can pop in on you at any moment, and she'll clinch +the matter and bind you with her cobwebs before you can escape." + +"Oh, Lord!" + +"You know you are dead sick of her, Michael--and you know that I am not +the sort of man who would ever speak of a woman thus without grave +reason; but she does not care for you any more than the half a dozen +others who occupied your proud position before your day--it is only for +money and the glory of having you tied to her apron strings. It was not +any good hammering on while the passion was upon you; but I have +watched you, and have seen that it is waning, so now's my time. With +this danger in front of you, you have got to pull yourself together, old +boy, and cut and run." + +"That would be no use--" Then Michael stammered a little. "I say, Henry, +I won't hear a word against her. You can thunder at me--but leave her +out." + +Mr. Fordyce smiled. + +"Did she express deep grief at poor Maurice's condition in her letter?" +he asked. + +"Er--no--not exactly----" + +"I thought not--she probably suggested all sorts of joys with you when +she is free!" + +There was an ominous silence. + +Mr. Fordyce's voice now took on that crisp tone which his adversaries in +the House of Commons so well knew meant that they must look to their +guns. + +"Delightful woman! A spider, I tell you, a roaring hypocrite, too, +bamboozling poor Rose into thinking her a virtuous, persecuted little +darling, with a noble passion for you, and my sister is a downright +person not easily fooled. At this moment, Violet is probably shedding +tears on her shoulder over poor Maurice, while she is plotting how soon +she can become mistress of Arranstoun. Good God! when I think of it--I +would rather get in a girl from the village and go through the ceremony +with her, and make myself safe, than have the prospect of Violet +Hatfield as a wife. Michael, I tell you seriously, dear boy--you won't +have the ghost of a chance if you are still unmarried when poor Maurice +dies!" + +Michael bounded from his chair once more. He was perfectly +furious--furious with the situation--furious with the woman--furious +with himself. + +"Confound it, Henry, I--know it--but it does not mend matters your +ranting there--and I am so sorry for the poor chap--Maurice, I mean--a +very decent fellow, poor Maurice! Can't you suggest any way out?" + +Mr. Fordyce mused a moment, while he deliberately puffed smoke, +Michael's impatience increasing so that he ran his hands through his +dark, smooth hair, whose shiny, immaculate brushing was usually his +pride! + +"Can't you suggest a way out?" he reiterated. + +Mr. Fordyce did not reply--then after a moment: "You were always too +much occupied with women, Michael--from your first scrape when you left +Eton; and over this affair you have been a complete fool." + +Michael was heard to swear again. + +"You have been inconsistent, too, because you did not even employ your +usual ruthless methods of doing what you pleased with them. You have +simply drifted into allowing this vile creature's cobwebs to cling on to +your whole existence until you are almost paralyzed, and it seems to me +that an immediate marriage with someone else is your only way of escape. +Such a waste of your life! Just analyze the position. You have +everything in the world, this glorious place--an old +name--money--prestige--and if your inclinations do run to the material +side of things instead of the intellectual, they are still successful in +their demonstration. No one has a better eye for a horse, or is a finer +shot. The best at driven grouse for your age, my boy, I have ever seen. +You are full of force, Michael, and ought to do some decent +thing--instead of which you spoil the whole outlook by fooling after +this infernal woman--and you have not now the pluck to cut the Gordian +knot. She will drag you to the lowest depths----" + +Then he laughed. "And only think of that voice in one's ears all day +long! I would rather marry old Bessie at the South Lodge. She is +eighty-four, she tells me, and would soon leave you a widower." + +The first ray of hope shot into Michael's bright blue eyes--and he +exclaimed with a kind of joy, as he seized Binko, his bulldog, by his +fat, engaging throat: + +"Bessie! Old Bessie--By Jove, what an idea!--the very thing. She'd do it +for me like a shot, dear old body!" + +Binko gurgled and slobbered in sympathy. + +"She would be kind to you, too, Binko. She would not say she found your +hairs on every chair, and that you dribbled on her dress! She would not +tell your master that he left his cigarette-ash about, and she hated the +smell of smoke! She would not want this room for her boudoir, she----" + +Then he stopped his flow of words, suddenly catching sight of the +whimsical, sardonic smile upon his friend's face. + +"Oh, Lord!" he mumbled, contritely. "I had forgotten you were here, +Henry. I am so jolly upset." + +"This heartlessness about poor Maurice has finished you, eh?" Mr. +Fordyce suggested. He felt he might be gaining his end. + +Michael covered his face with his hands. + +"It seems so ghastly to think of marriage with the poor chap not yet +dead--I am fairly knocked over--it really is the last straw--but she +will cry and make a scene--and she has certainly arguments--and it will +make one feel such a cad to leave her." + +"She wrote that--did she?--wrote of marriage and her husband's last +attack of hemorrhage in the same paragraph, I suppose. Michael, it is +revolting! My dear boy, you must break away from her--and then do try to +occupy yourself with more important things than women. Believe me, they +are all very well in their way and in their proper place--to be treated +with the greatest courtesy and respect as wives and mothers--even loved, +if you will, for a recreation--but as vital factors in a man's real +life! My dear fellow, the idea is ridiculous--that life should be for +his country and the development of his own soul----" + +Michael Arranstoun laughed. + +"Jolly old Mohammedan! You think women have none, I suppose!" + +Henry Fordyce frowned, because it was rather true--but he denied the +charge. + +"Nothing of the sort. Merely, I see things at their proper balance and +you cannot." + +Michael leaned back in his chair; he was quieter for a moment. + +"I only see what I want to see, Henry--and I am a savage--I cannot help +it--we have always been so. When I fancy a woman, I must obtain +her--when I want a horse, I must have it. It is always _must_--and we +have not done so badly. We still possess our shoulders and chins and +strength after eleven hundred years of it!" and he stretched out a +splendid arm, with a force which could have felled an ox. + +An undoubtedly fine specimen of British manhood he looked, sitting there +in the June sunlight, which came in a shaft from the south mullioned +window in the corner beyond the great fireplace, the space between +occupied by a large picture of uncertain date, depicting the landing of +Mary, Queen of Scots, in her northern kingdom. + +His eyes roamed to this. + +"One of my ancestors was among that party," he said, pointing to a +figure. "He had just killed a Moreton and stolen his wife, that is why +he looks so perky--the fellow in the blue doublet." + +Mr. Fordyce rose from his chair and fired his last shot. + +"And now a female spider is going to paralyze the last Arranstoun, and +rule him for the rest of his days, sapping his vitality." + +But Michael protested. + +"By heaven, no!" + +"Well, I'll leave you to think about it. I am going for another stroll +on this lovely day." He had got to the window by this time, which looked +into the courtyard on the opposite side to the balcony. "Goodness! what +a party of tourists! It is a bore for you to have them all over the +place like this! To own a castle with state rooms to be shown to the +public has its disadvantages." + +Michael looked at them, too, a large party of Americans, mostly of that +class which compose the tourists of all countries, and which no nation +feels proud to own. He had seen hundreds of such, and turned away +indifferently. + +"They only come here twice a week, and it has been allowed for such +ages--they are generally quiet, and fortunately their perambulations +close at the end of the gallery. They don't intrude upon my own suite. +They get to the chapel by the outside door." + +Henry crossed the room and went on to the balcony. + +"Mrs. Hatfield will alter all that," he laughed, as he disappeared from +view. + +Michael flashed a rageful glance at his back, and then flung himself +into his great armchair again, and pulled the wrinkled mass, which +called itself a prize bulldog, on to his lap. + +"I believe he's right and we are caught, Binko. If we fled to the Rocky +Mountains, she would track us. If we stay and face it, she'll make an +almighty scandal and force us to marry her. What in the devil's name are +we to do----!" + +Binko licked his master's hands, and made noises, so full of gurgling, +slobbering sympathy, no heart could have remained uncomforted. Who +knows! His canine common sense may have telepathically transmitted a +thought, for Michael suddenly plopped him on the floor, and stalked +toward the fireplace to ring the bell, while he exclaimed, as though +answering a suggestion. "Yes, we'll send for old Bessie--that's the only +way." + +But before he could reach his goal, the picture of Mary, Queen of Scots, +landing fell forward with a crash, and through the aperture of a secret +door which it concealed, there tumbled a very young and pretty girl +right into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Mr. Arranstoun was extremely startled and annoyed, too, and before he +took in the situation, he had exclaimed, while Binko gave an ominous +growl of displeasure: + +"Confound it--who is that! These are private rooms!" Then, seeing it was +a girl on the floor, he said in another voice: "Quiet, Binko--" and the +dog retired to his own basket under a distant table. "Oh, I beg your +pardon--but----" + +The creature on the floor blinked at Michael with large, round, violet +eyes, but did not move, while she answered aggrievedly--with a very +faint accent, whether a little French or a little American, or a little +of both, he was not sure, only that it had something attractive about +it. + +"You may well say 'but'! I did not mean to intrude upon your private +room--but I had to run away from Mr. Greenbank--he was so horrid--" here +she gasped a little for breath--"and I happened to see something like a +door ajar in the Gainsborough room, so I fled through it, and it +fastened after me with a snap--I could not open it again--and it was +pitch dark in that dreadful passage and not a scrap of air--I felt +suffocated, and I pushed on anywhere--and something gave way and I fell +in here--that's all----" + +She rattled this out without a stop, and then stared at Michael with her +big, childish eyes, but did not attempt to rise from the floor. + +He walked toward her and held out his hand, and with ceremonious and +ironical politeness, he began: + +"May I not help you--I could offer you a chair----" + +She interrupted him while she struggled up, refusing his proffered hand. + +"I've knocked myself against your nasty table--why do you have it in +that place!" + +Michael sat down upon the edge of it, and went on in his ironical tone: + +"Had I known I was to have the honor of this visit, I should certainly +have had it moved." + +"There is no use being sarcastic," the girl said, almost crying now. "It +hurts very much, and--and--I want to go home." + +Mr. Arranstoun pushed a comfortable monster seat toward her, and said +more sympathetically: + +"I am very sorry--but where is home?" + +The girl sank into the chair, and smoothed out her pink cotton frock; +the skimpy skirt (not as narrow as in these days, but still short and +spare!) showed a perfect pair of feet and ankles. + +"She's American, of course, then," Michael said to himself, observing +these, "and quite pretty if that smudge of grime was off her face." + +She was looking at him now with her large, innocent eyes, which +contained no shadow of _gêne_ over the unusual situation, and then she +answered quite simply: + +"I haven't a home, you know--I'm just staying at the Inn with Uncle +Mortimer and Aunt Jemima and--and--Mr. Greenbank--and we are tourists, I +suppose, and were looking at the pictures--when--when I had to run +away." + +Michael felt a little piqued with curiosity; she was a diversion after +his perplexing, irritating meditations. + +"It would be so interesting to hear why you ran away--the whole story?" +he suggested. + +The girl turned her head and looked out of the window, showing a dear +little baby profile, and masses of light brown hair rolled up anyhow at +the back. She did not look older than seventeen at the outside, and was +peculiarly childish and slender for that. + +"But I should have to tell you from the beginning, and it is so +long--and you are a stranger." + +Michael drew another chair nearer to her, and sat down, while his manner +took on a note of grave, elderly concern, which rather belied the +twinkle of mischief in his eyes. + +"Never mind that--I am sympathetic, and I am your host--and, by +Jove!--won't you have some tea! You look awfully tired and--dusty," and +he rang the bell, and then reseated himself. "See, to be quite orthodox, +we will make our own introduction--I am Michael Arranstoun--and you +are----?" + +The girl rose and made him a polite bow. "I am Sabine Delburg," she +announced. He bowed also--and then she went into a peal of silvery +laughter that seemed to contain all the glad notes of spring and youth. +"Oh, this is fun! and I--I should like some tea!" She caught sight of +herself in an old mirror, which stood upon a commode. "Goodness, what a +guy I look! Why didn't you tell me that my hat was crooked!" She settled +it straight, and began searching for a handkerchief up her sleeve and in +her belt, but none was to be found. + +So Mr. Arranstoun handed her a clean one he chanced to have in his +pocket. "I expect you want to wipe the smudge of dirt off your face," he +hazarded. + +She took it laughing, and showing an even row of beautiful teeth between +red, full baby lips. + +"You are the owner of this castle," she went on, as she gave firm rubs +at the velvet pink cheeks. "That must be nice. You can do what you like, +I suppose," and here a sigh of regret escaped and made her voice lower. + +"I wish I _could_," Mr. Arranstoun answered feelingly. + +"Well, if I were _a man_, I would!" + +"What would you do?" + +She turned and faced him, while she said, with extreme solemnity: + +"I should never marry Mr. Greenbank." + +Michael laughed. + +"I don't suppose you would if you were a man!" At this moment, a footman +answered the bell. "Bring tea, please," his master ordered, inwardly +amused at the servant's astonished face, and then when they were alone +again, he continued his sympathetic questioning. + +"Who is Mr. Greenbank? You had to flee from him--you said he was horrid, +I believe?" + +Miss Delburg had removed her hat, and was trying to tidy her hair before +readjusting it; she had the hat-pin in her mouth, but took it out to +answer vehemently: + +"So he is, a pig! And I went and got engaged to him this morning! You +see," turning to the glass again, quite unembarrassed, "I can't get my +money until I am married--and Uncle is so disagreeable, and Aunt Jemima +nags all day long, and it was left in Papa's will that I was to live +with them--and I don't come of age until I am twenty-one, but I can get +the money directly if I marry--I was seventeen in May, and of course no +one could stand it till twenty-one! Mr. Greenbank is the only person +who has asked me, and Aunt Jemima says no one else ever will! I have +been out of the Convent for a whole month, and I can't bear it." + +Michael was beginning really to enjoy himself. She was something so +fresh, so entirely different to anything he had ever seen in his life +before. There was nothing of shyness or awkwardness in her manner, as +any English girl would have shown. She was absolutely at ease, with a +childish, confiding innocence which he saw plainly was real, and not put +on for his benefit. It was almost incredible in these up-to-date days. A +most engaging morsel of seventeen summers, he decided, as he answered +with over-grave concern: + +"What a hard fate!--but you have not told me yet why you ran away!" + +The girl had finished her toilet by now, and reseated herself with a +grown-up air in the big armchair. + +"Oh! well, he was just--horrid--that was all," and then abruptly turning +the conversation, "It is a nice place you have here, and it does feel +lovely doing something wrong like this--having tea with you, I mean. You +know, I have never spoken to a young man before. The Nuns always told us +they were dreadful creatures--but you don't look so bad--" and she +examined her host critically. + +Michael accepted the implied appreciation. + +"What is Mr. Greenbank, then?" + +The silver laugh rang out again, while she jumped up and peeped from +the window into the courtyard. + +"Samuel--he's only a thing! Oh! Uncle and Aunt would be so angry if they +could see me here! And I expect they are all in a fine fuss now to know +what has happened to me! They never saw me go through the door, and I +hope they think that I've committed suicide out of one of the windows. +Look!" and she danced excitedly, "there is Uncle talking to the +commissionaire. Oh, what fun!" + +Mr. Arranstoun peeped, too--and saw a spare, elderly American of grim +appearance in anxious confab with Alexander Armstrong. + +The whole situation struck him as delightful, and he laughed gaily, +while he suggested: "You are perhaps rather a difficult charge?" + +Miss Delburg resented this at once. + +"What an idea! How would you like to marry Mr. Greenbank, or stay with +Aunt Jemima for four years!" + +"Well, you see, I can't contemplate it, as I am not a girl!" + +Again those white teeth showed, and the violet eyes were suffused with +laughter. + +"No! Of course not. How silly I am--but I mean, how would you care to be +forced to do something you did not like?" + +Michael thought of his own fate. + +"By Jove! I should hate it!" + +"Well--you can understand me!" + +Then the door opened, and the butler and footman brought in the tea, +eyeing their master's guest furtively, while they maintained that +superbly aloof manner of well-bred English servants. The pause their +entrance caused gave Mr. Arranstoun time to think, and an idea gradually +began to unfold itself in his brain--and unconsciously he took out, and +then replaced in his breast pocket, a mauve, closely-written letter, +while a frown of deep cogitation crept over his face. + +Miss Delburg, for her part, was only thrilled with the sight of the very +agreeable tea, and after waiting a moment to see what her preoccupied +host would do when the servants left the room, hunger forced her to fall +to the temptation of a particularly appetizing chocolate cake, which she +surreptitiously seized, and began munching with the frank joy of a +child. + +"I do love them!" she sighed, "and we never were allowed them, only once +a month after Moravia Cloudwater got that awful toothache, and had to +have a big grinder pulled out." + +Michael was paying no attention to her; he had walked rapidly up and +down the room once or twice, much to her astonishment. + +At last he spoke. + +"I have an idea--but first let me give you some tea--No--do help +yourself," then he paused awkwardly, and she at once proceeded to fill +her cup. + +Binko had condescended to emerge from his basket under the table. +Tea-time was an hour when he allowed himself to take an interest in +human beings. + +"Oh! you darling!" the girl cried, putting down her cup. "You fat, +lovely, wrinkly darling!" + +"He is a nice dog," his master admitted; his voice was actually +nervous--and he pulled Binko to him by his solid, fleshy paws, while he +sat down in his chair again. + +Miss Delburg had got back into her seat, where she munched a cake and +continued her tea. The chair was so deep and long that her little bits +of feet did not nearly reach the ground, but dangled there. + +"Mayn't I pour you out some, too?" she asked, getting forward again. "I +do love to pour out--and do you take sugar--? I like lumps and lumps of +it." + +"Oh--er--yes," Michael agreed absently, and then he went on with the +determined air of a person getting something off his chest. "I hardly +know how to say what I am thinking of, it sounds so strange. Listen--I +also must marry someone--anyone--to avert a fate I don't want--What do +you say to marrying _me_?" + +The teapot came down into the tray with a bump, while the round, +childish eyes grew like saucers with astonishment. + +"Oh!" + +"I dare say it does surprise you--" Michael then hastened to add. "I +mean, we should only go through the ceremony, of course, and you could +get your money and I my freedom." + +The girl clasped her hands round her knees. + +"And I should never have to see you again?" in a glad voice of +comprehension. + +Michael leaned forward nearer to her. + +"Well--no--never, unless you wished." + +Miss Delburg actually kicked her feet with delight. + +"It is a perfectly splendid suggestion," she announced. "We could just +oblige one another in this way, and need never see or speak to each +other again. What made it come into your head? Do you really think we +could do that--Oh! how rude of me--I've forgotten to pour out your tea!" + +"Never mind, talking about--our marriage--is more interesting," and Mr. +Arranstoun's blue eyes filled with mischievous appreciation of the +situation, even beyond the seriousness of the discussion he meant to +carry to an end. But this aspect did not so much concern Miss Delburg, +as that she had let slip a particular pleasure for the moment, that of +being allowed a teapot in her own hand, instead of being given a huge +bowl of milk with a drop of weak coffee mixed in it, and watching a like +fate fall upon her companions. + +When this delightful business was accomplished to her satisfaction, her +sweet little round face a model of serious responsibility the while, she +handed Michael the cup and drew herself back once more into the depth +of the giant chair. + +"I can't behave nicely in this great creature," she said, patting the +fat cushioned arms, "and the Mother Superior would be horribly shocked, +but don't let's mind. Now, do tell me something about this plan. You +see," gravely, "I really don't know the world very well yet--I have +always been at the Convent near Tours until a month ago--even in the +holidays, since I was seven--and the Sisters never told me anything +about outside, except that it was a place of pitfalls and that men were +dreadful creatures. I was very happy there, except I wanted to get out +all the time, and when I did and found Uncle and Aunt more tiresome than +the Sisters--there seemed no help for it--only Mr. Greenbank. So I +accepted him this morning. But--" and this awful thought caused her +whole countenance to change. "Now I come to think of it, the usual +getting married means you would have to stay with the man--wouldn't you? +And he wants--he wants to kiss--I mean," hurriedly, "you would be lovely +to marry because I would never have to see you again!" + +Michael Arranstoun put his head back and laughed; she was perfectly +delicious--he began to dislike Mr. Greenbank. + +His tea was quite forgotten. + +"Er--of course not," he agreed. "Well, I could get a special license, +if you could tell me exactly how you stand, and your whole name and your +parents' names, and everything, and we could get their consent--but I +conclude your father, at least, is no longer alive." + +Miss Delburg had a very grown-up air now. + +"No, my parents are both dead," she told him. "Papa three years ago, and +Mamma for ages, and I never saw them much anyhow. They were always +travelling about, and Mamma was a Frenchwoman and a Catholic. Her family +did not speak to her because she married a Protestant and an American. +And the worry it was for me being brought up in a convent! because Papa +would have me a Protestant, so I do believe I have got a little religion +of my own that is not like either!" + +"Yes?" + +She continued her narrative in the intervals of the joy of munching +another cake. + +"Papa was very rich, and it's all mine--Only it appears he did not +approve of the freedom of American women--and so tied it up so that I +can't get it until I am an old maid of twenty-one--or get married. Is it +not disgusting?" + +Michael's thoughts were now concentrating upon the vital points. + +"But have you not got a guardian or something?" + +"Not exactly. Only an old lawyer person who is now in London. I have +seen Papa's will, and I know I can marry when and whom I like if I get +his consent--and he would give it in a minute, he is sick of me!" + +"How fortunate!" Then restlessness seized him again, and he got up, +gulped down his tea, and began his pacing. + +"I do think it would be a good plan, and we must do it if we can get +this person's leave--Yes, and do it quickly before we change our minds, +or something interferes. Everyone would think we were perfectly mad, but +as it suits us both, that is no one's business--Only--you are rather +young--and er--I don't know Greenbank. You are sure he is horrid?" + +The girl clasped her hands together with force. + +"Sure! I should think so--He wears glasses, and has nasty, scrabbly bits +of fur on his face, which he thinks is a beard, and he is pompous and he +talks like this," and she imitated a precise Boston voice. "'My dear +Sabine--have you considered,' and he is lanky--and Oh! I detest him, and +I can't imagine why I ever said I would marry him--but if I don't, what +_am_ I to do with Aunt Jemima for four years! I should die of it." + +Michael sat on the edge of the table and looked at her long and deeply. +He took in the childish picture she made in the big chair. He had no +definite appreciation then of her charm, his mind was too fixed upon +what seemed a prospect of certain escape from Violet Hatfield and her +cunning thirty years of experience. This young thing could not interfere +with him, and divorces in Scotland were not impossible things--they +would both gain what they wanted for the time, and it was a fair +bargain. So he said, after a moment: + +"I will go up to London to-morrow, and if it is as you say that you are +free to marry whom and when you will, I will try to get this old +lawyer's consent and a special license--But how about your Uncle? Has he +not any legal right over you?" + +Miss Delburg laughed contentedly. + +"Not in the least--only that I have to live with him until I am married. +Mr. Parsons--that's the lawyer's name--hates him, and he hates Mr. +Parsons. So I know Mr. Parsons will be delighted to spite him by giving +his consent, if you just say Uncle Mortimer is trying to force me into a +marriage against my will with his nephew--Samuel Greenbank is his +nephew, you know--no relation to me. It is Aunt Jemima who is Papa's +sister." + +All this seemed quite convincing. Michael felt relieved. + +"I see," he said. "Well, it appears simple enough. I believe I could be +back by Thursday, and I could have my chaplain and a friend of mine, and +we could get the affair over in the chapel--and then you can go back to +the Inn with your certificate--and I can go to Paris--free!" And his +thoughts added, "And even if poor Maurice does die soon, I need fear +nothing!" + +Now that their two fates seemed settled, Miss Delburg got out of the +chair and stood up in a dignified way; her soft cheeks were the color of +a glowing pink rose, and her violet eyes shone with fun and excitement, +her little, irregular features and perfect teeth seemed to add to the +infantine aspect of the picture she made in her unfashionable pink +cotton frock. Dress had been strongly discouraged at the Convent, and +was looked upon by Aunt Jemima, a strict New Englander, as a snare of +the devil, but even the garment, in the selecting of which she had had +no hand, seemed to hang with grace upon the child's slim figure. + +Not a doubt as to the future clouded her thoughts; it was all a glorious +piece of fun, and of all the daring tricks she had perpetrated at the +Convent to get chocolates, or climb a tree, or have a midnight orgy of +cake and sirop, none had been so exciting as this--to go through the +ceremony of marriage and be free for life! + +Her education had been of the most elementary, and the whole aim of +those placed over her had been to keep her as innocent and ignorant as a +child of ten. Not a single problem of life had ever presented itself to +her naturally intelligent mind. She had read no books, conversed with no +grown-up people, played with no one but her companions, three American +girls and a few French ones, and the simple Nuns. And since her +emancipation, she had but wandered in the English lakes with her uncle +and aunt and Samuel Greenbank, and so had come to Arranstoun like any +other tourist to see this famous castle still inhabited after eleven +hundred years. + +In these days of women giving daily proof of their capability for +irritating mischief, if not of their ability to rule nations, Sabine +Delburg was a very unique being, and could not have existed but for a +combination of rare circumstances, as she was half American and half +French and had inherited the quick understanding of both nations. But +from the age of seven, she had never seen the outside world. It is not +my place, in any case, to explain what she was or was not. The creature, +with all her faults and charms, is there to speak for herself--and if +you, my friend, who are reading this tale on a summer's day do not feel +you want to hear any more of what happened to these two young things, by +all means put down the book and go your way! + +So let us get back to Mr. Arranstoun's sitting-room and the June +afternoon, and we shall hear Miss Delburg saying, in her childish voice +of joy: + +"Nothing could be better--I always did like doing mad things. It will be +the greatest fun! Think of their faces when I prance in and say I am +married! Then I will snap my fingers at them and go off and see the +world." + +Michael knelt upon a low old _prie dieu_ which was near, and looked into +her face--while he asked, whimsically: + +"I do wonder where you will begin." + +Miss Delburg now sat upon the edge of the table; this was a grave +question and must be answered at leisure, though without indecision. + +"Oh, I know," she announced. "There was my great friend, Moravia +Cloudwater, at the Convent. She was older than me, and went to Paris +with her father and married an Italian prince last year. I have heard +from her since, and she has often wanted me to go and stay with her in +Rome--and I shall now. Morri and I are the dearest friends--and her +things did look lovely the day she came to see us at Tours--with the +prince's coronet on them--" and then the first shadow came to her +contentment. "That is the only pity about you--even with a castle, you +haven't a coronet, I suppose?" regretfully. "I should have liked one on +my handkerchiefs and note-paper." + +Michael felt his shortcomings. + +"The title was taken away when we followed Prince Charlie and we only +got back the land by the skin of our teeth after an awful business so I +am afraid I cannot do that for you--but perhaps," consolingly, "you will +have better luck next time." + +This brought some comfort. + +"Why, of course! we can get a divorce--as soon as we want. Moravia had +an aunt, who simply went to Sioux Falls and got one at once and married +someone else, so it's not the least trouble. Oh, I am glad you have +thought of this plan. It is clever of you!" + +Mr. Arranstoun felt that he was becoming rather too interested in +his--_fiancée_ and time was passing. Her family might discover where she +was--or Henry might return; he must clinch matters finally. + +"I think we must come to business details now," he said. "Had you not +better write a letter to Mr. Parsons that I could take, stating your +wishes; and will you also write down upon another piece of paper all the +details of your name, age--and so forth----" + +He now showed her his writing-table and gave her paper and pens to +choose from. + +She sat down gravely, and put her hands to her head as one thinking +hard. Then she began rapidly to write--while Mr. Arranstoun watched her +from the hearth-rug, to where he had retired. + +She evidently wrote out the statistics required first, and then began +her letter. And at last she turned a rogue's face with a perplexed frown +on it, while she bit her pen. + +"How do you spell indigenous, please?" + +He started forward. + +"'Indigenous'?--what a grand word!--i-n-d-i-g-e-n-o-u-s." + +"One has to be grand when writing business letters," she told him, +condescendingly, and then finished her missive. + +"There--that will do! Now listen!" + +She got up and stood with the sheet in her hand, and read off the +remarkable document without worrying much about stops or commas. + + "Dear Mr. Parsons: + + "Papa said I could marry who I wanted to provided that he was + decent, so please give your written consent to the _grand seigneur_ + who brings this. His name is Arranstoun, and he is indigenous to + this Castle, and really an aristocrat who papa and mamma would have + approved of, although he unfortunately has no title----" + +"I had to put in that, you see," and she looked up explainingly, +"because it sounds so ordinary if he'd never heard of Arranstoun--we +wouldn't have, only Uncle Mortimer was looking out for old ruins to +visit--well," and she continued her recital, while Michael lowered his +head to hide the smile in his eyes. + + "We wish to get married on Thursday so please be quick about the + consent, as Uncle Mortimer wants me to marry his nephew, Samuel + Greenbank, who I hate. Agree, sir, the expression of my sentiments, + the most distinguished + + "Sabine Delburg." + + "P.S. I will want all my money, 50,000 dollars a year I believe it + is, on Friday morning." + +Then she looked up with pride. + +"Don't you think that will do?" + +Michael was overcome--his voice shook with enchanted mirth. + +"Admirably," he assured her, with what solemnity he could. + +Sabine seemed thoroughly satisfied with herself. + +"That's all right, then. Now I must be off, or they will be coming to +look for me, and that would be a bore." + +"But we have not made all the arrangements for our wedding." The +prospective bridegroom thought it prudent to remind her. "When can you +come on Thursday? My train gets in about six." + +"Thursday," and she contracted her dark eyebrows. "Let me see--Yes, we +are staying until Saturday to see the remains of Elbank Monastery--but I +don't know how I can slip away, unless--only it would be so late. I +could say I had a headache and go to bed early without dinner, and get +here about eight while they were having theirs. It is still quite +light--I often had to pretend things at the Convent to get a moment's +peace." + +Michael reflected. + +"Better not chance eight--as you say it is quite light then and they +might see you. Slip out of the hotel at nine. The park gate is, as you +know, right across the road. I will wait for you inside, and we can walk +here in a few minutes--and come up these balcony steps--and the chapel +is down that passage--through this door. See." + +He went and opened the door, and she followed him--talking as she +walked. + +"Nine! Oh! that is late--I have never been out so late before--but it +can't matter--just this once--can it? And here in the north it is so +funny; it is light at nine, too! Perhaps it would be safest." Then, +peering down the vaulted passage and drawing back, "It is a gloomy hole +to get married in!" + +"You won't say so when you see the chapel itself," he reassured her. "It +is rather a beautiful place. Whenever any of my ancestors committed a +particularly atrocious raid, and wanted to be absolved for their sins, +they put in a window or a painting or carving. The family was Catholic +until my grandfather's time, and then High Church, so the glories have +remained untouched." + +Sabine kept close to him as they walked, as a child afraid of the dark +would have done. It seemed to her too like her recent experience of the +secret passage, and then she exclaimed in a voice of frank awe and +admiration, when he opened the nail-studded, iron-bound door at the end: + +"Oh! how divine!" + +And it was indeed. A gem of the finest period of early Gothic +architecture, adorned with all trophies which love, fear and contrition +could compel from the art of the ages. Glorious colored lights swept +down in shafts from matchless stained glass, and the high altar was a +blaze of richness, while beautiful paintings and tapestries covered the +walls. + +It was gorgeous and sumptuous, and unlike anything else in England or +Scotland. It might have been the private chapel of a proud, voluptuous +Cardinal in Rome's great days. + +"Why is that one little window plain?" Sabine asked. + +Then Michael answered with a cynical note in his voice: + +"It is left for me--I, who am the last of them, to put up some expiatory +offering, I expect. Rapine and violence are in the blood," and then he +laughed lightly, and led her back through the gloom to his sitting-room. +There was a strange, fierce light in his bright blue eyes, which the +child-woman did not see, and which, if she had perceived, she would not +have understood any more than he understood it himself--for no concrete +thought had yet come to him about the future. Only, there underneath was +that mighty force, relentless, inexorable, of heredity, causing the +instinct which had dominated the Arranstouns for eleven hundred years. + +He did not seek to detain his guest and promised bride--but, with great +courtesy, he showed her the way down the stairs of the lawn, and so +through the postern into the park, and he watched her slender form trip +off towards the gate which was opposite the Inn, her last words ringing +in his ears in answer to his final question. + +"No, I shall not fail--I will leave the Crown at nine o'clock exactly on +Thursday." + +Then turning, he retraced his steps to his sitting-room, and there found +Henry Fordyce returned. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +"Well, old boy!" Mr. Fordyce greeted him with. "You should have been +with me and had a good round of golf--but perhaps, though, you have made +up your mind!" + +Michael flung himself into his great chair. + +"Yes--I have--and I have got a fiancée." + +Mr. Fordyce was not disturbed; he did not even answer this absurd +remark, he just puffed his cigar--cigarettes were beneath his notice. + +"You don't seem very interested," his host ejaculated, rather +aggrievedly. + +"Tommyrot!" + +"I tell you, it is true. I have got a fiancée." + +"My dear fellow, you are mad!" + +"No, I assure you I am quite sane--I have found a way out of the +difficulty--an angel has dropped from the clouds to save me from Violet +Hatfield." + +Henry Fordyce was actually startled. Michael looked as though he were +talking seriously. + +"But where did she come from? What the--Oh! I have no patience with you, +you old fool! You are playing some comedy upon me!" + +"Henry, I give you my word, I'm not--I am going to marry a most +presentable young person at nine o'clock on Thursday night in the chapel +here--and you are going to stay and be best man." Then his excitement +began to rise again, and he got up from his chair and paced up and down +restlessly. "It is the very thing. She wants her money and I want my +freedom. She gets hers by marriage, and I get mine. I don't care a rush +for domestic bliss, it has never appealed to me; and the fellow in +Australia who'll come after me has got a boy who will do all right, no +doubt, for the old place by and by. I shall have a perfectly free time +and no responsibilities--and, thank the Lord! no more women for me for +the future. I have done with the snakes. I shall be happy and free for +the first time for a whole year!" + +Mr. Fordyce actually let his cigar go out. This incredible story was +beginning to have an effect upon him. + +"But where did she come from?" he asked blandly, as one speaks to a +harmless imbecile. "I leave you here in an abject state of despair, +ready almost to decide upon marrying old Bessie, and I return in an hour +and you inform me everything is settled, and you are the fiancé of +another lady! You know, you surprise me, Michael--'Pon my word, you do!" + +Michael laughed, it was really a huge joke. + +"Yes, it is quite true. Well, just as I was going to ring and send +James for Bessie to talk it over with her, there was no end of a +smash--as you see--and a girl--a tourist--fell through the secret door. +I haven't opened it for five years. She was running away from a horrid +fellow she was engaged to, it seems, and fled into the passage, and the +door shut after her and she could not get out, so she pushed on in +here." + +"It adds dramatic color to the story, the girl being engaged to someone +else--pray go on." + +Mr. Fordyce had now picked up his cigar again. This preposterous tale no +longer interested him. He thought it even rather bad taste on the part +of his friend. + +"All right!" Michael explained. "You need not believe me if you don't +like. I don't care, since I have done what I wanted to. Bar chaff, +Henry, I am telling you the truth. The girl appears to be a young woman +of decision. She explained at once her circumstances, and it struck us +both that to go through the ceremony of marriage would smooth all our +difficulties. We can easily get the bond annulled later on." + +Henry Fordyce put down his cigar again. + +"I am off to town to-night. You won't mind, will you?" Michael went on. +"Just to see if everything is all right, and to get her guardian's +consent and a special license, and I shall be back by the six o'clock +train on Thursday in time to get the ceremony over that night; and then, +by the early morning express, if you'll wait till then, we'll go South +together, and so for Paris and freedom!" + +Henry actually rose from his chair. + +"And the bride?" he asked. + +Michael laughed. "Oh, she may go to the moon, for all I care; she leaves +directly after the ceremony with her certificate of marriage, which she +means to brandish in the face of her relations, who are staying at the +Inn, and so exit out of my life! It is only an affair of expediency." + +"It is the affair of a madman." + +Michael frowned, and his firm chin looked aggressive. + +"It is nothing of the kind. You told me yourself that you would rather +marry old Bessie--a woman of eighty-four--than Violet Hatfield; and now, +when I have found a much more suitable person--a pretty little lady--you +begin to talk. My mind is made up, and there is an end of it." + +Mr. Fordyce interrupted. + +"Bessie would have been much more suitable--a plain pretext; but you +have no idea what complications you may be storing up for yourself by +marrying a young girl--What is the sense in it?" he continued, a little +excited now. "The younger and prettier she is makes her all the more +unsuitable to be used merely as a tool in your game. Confound it, +Michael!" + +"And her game, too," his host reminded him. His eyes were flashing now, +and that expression, which all his underlings knew meant he intended to +have his own will at any cost, grew upon his face. + +"You forget that in Scotland divorce is not an impossibility and--_I am +going to do it, Henry_. Now, I had better write to old Fergusson, my +chaplain, and tell him to be in readiness, and I suppose I ought to see +my lawyers in Edinburgh, although, as there are no settlements and it is +just between ourselves, perhaps it does not matter about them." + +"How old is the girl?" Mr. Fordyce felt it prudent to ask. "It is a +pretty serious thing you contemplate, you know." + +"Oh! rot!--she is seventeen, I believe--and for that sort of a marriage +and mere business arrangement, her age is no consequence." + +Henry turned to the window and looked out for a moment, then he said +gravely: + +"Is it quite fair to her?" + +Michael had gone to his writing-table, and was busily scribbling to his +chaplain, but he looked over his shoulder startled, and then a gleam of +blue fire came into his eyes, and his handsome mouth shut like a vise. + +"Of course, it is quite fair. She wishes to be free as much as I do. She +gets what she wants and I get what I want--a mere ceremony can be +annulled at any time. She jumped at the idea, I tell you, Henry--I have +not got time to go into the pros and cons of that side of the question, +and I don't want to hear your views or any one else's on the matter. I +mean to marry the girl on Thursday night--and you can quite well put off +going South until Friday morning, and see me through it." + +Mr. Fordyce prepared to go towards the door, and when there said, in a +voice of ice: + +"I shall do no such thing. I cannot prevent your doing this, I +suppose--taking advantage of a young girl for your own ends, it seems to +me--so I shall go now." + +Michael's temper began to blaze with this, his oldest friend. + +"As you please," he flashed. "But it is perfect rot, all this high +palaver. The girl gains by it as well as I. I am not taking the least +advantage of her. I shall have to get her guardian's consent, and I +suppose he'll know what he is up to. I have never taken any one's +advice, and I am not going to begin now, old boy--so we had better say +good-bye if you won't stop." + +He came over to the door, and then he smiled his radiant, irresistible +smile so like a mischievous jolly boy's. + +"Give me joy, Henry, old friend," he said, and held out his hand. + +But Henry Fordyce looked grave as a judge as he took it. + +"I can't do that, Michael. I am very angry with you. I have known you +ever since you were born, and we have been real pals, although I am so +much older than you--but I'm damned if I'll stay and see you through +this folly. Good-bye." And without a word further he went out of the +room, closing the door softly behind him. + +Michael gave a sort of whoop to Binko, who sprang at him in love and +excitement, while he cried: + +"Very well! Get along, old saint!" + +Then he rang the bell, and to the footman when he came he handed the +note he had written to be taken to Mr. Fergusson, and sent orders for +Johnson to pack for two nights, and for his motor to be ready to catch +the 10:40 express at the junction for London town. Then he seized his +cap and, calling Binko, he went off into the garden, and so on to the +park and to the golf house, where, securing his professional, he played +a vigorous round, and when he got back to the castle again, just before +dinner, he was informed that Mr. Fordyce had left in his own motor for +Edinburgh. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +An opalescence of soft light and peace and beauty was over the park of +Arranstoun on this June night of its master's wedding, and he walked +among the giant trees to the South Lodge gate, only a few hundred yards +from the postern, which he reached from his sitting-room. All had gone +well in London. Mr. Parsons had raised no objection, being indeed +greatly flattered at the proposed alliance--for who had not heard of the +famous border Castle of Arranstoun and envied its possessor? + +They had talked a long time and settled everything. + +"Tie up the whole of Miss Delburg's money entirely upon herself," Mr. +Arranstoun had said--"if it is not already done--then we need not bother +about settlements. I understand that she is well provided for." + +"And how about your future children?" Mr. Parsons asked. + +Michael stiffened suddenly as he looked out of the office window. + +"Oh--er, they will naturally have all I possess," he returned quickly. + +And now as he neared the Lodge gate, and nine o'clock struck, a +suppressed excitement was in his veins. For no matter how eventful your +life may be, or how accustomed you are to chances and vivid amusements, +to be facing a marriage ceremony with a practically unknown young woman +has aspects of originality in it calculated to set the pulses in motion. + +He had almost forgotten that side of the affair which meant freedom and +safety for him from the claws of the Spider--although he had learned +upon his return home from London that she had, as Henry Fordyce had +predicted that she might, "popped in upon him," having motored over from +Ebbsworth, and had left him a letter of surprised, intense displeasure +at his unannounced absence. + +When five minutes had passed, and there was as yet no sign of his +promised bride crossing the road from the Inn, Mr. Arranstoun began to +experience an unpleasant impatience. The quarter chimed--his temper +rose--had she been playing a trick upon him and never intended at any +time to come? He grew furious--and paced the fine turf behind the Lodge, +swearing hotly as was his wont when enraged. + +Then he saw a little figure wrapped in a gray dust cloak much too big +for it advancing cautiously to the gate in the twilight, and he bounded +forward to meet her and to open the narrow side-entrance before the +Lodge-keeper, Old Bessie, could have time to see who was there. + +"At last!" he cried, when they were safely inside and had gone a few +paces along the avenue. "I was beginning to think you did not mean to +keep your word! I am glad you have come!" + +"Why, of course I meant to keep my word. I never break it," Sabine said +astonished. "I am longing to be free just like you are, but I had an +awful business to get away! I have never been so excited in my life! +Their train was late--some breakdown on the branch line--they did not +get in until half-past eight, and I dare not be all dressed, but had to +pretend to be in bed, covered up, still with the awful headache, when +Aunt Jemima bounced in." Then she laughed joyously at the recollection +of her escape. "The moment she had gone off to her supper, tucking me up +for the night, I jumped up and got on my dress and hat and her dust +cloak and then I had to watch my moment, creep down those funny little +stairs, and out of the side door--and so across here. You know it was +far harder to manage than the last feast Moravia Cloudwater and I gave +to the girls the night before she went to Paris! Isn't it fun! I do like +having these adventures, don't you?" + +"Yes," said Michael, and looked down into her face. + +She was extremely pretty, he thought, in the soft dusk of this Northern +evening. Her leghorn hat with its wreath of blue forget-me-nots was most +becoming and her brown hair was ruffled a little by the hat's hasty +donning. + +[Illustration: "He bounded forward to meet her"] + +"I needn't keep this old cloak on, need I?" she asked. "Nobody can see +us here and it is so hot." + +He helped her off with it and carried it for her. She looked prettier +still now, the slender lines of her childish figure were so exquisite in +their promise of beautiful womanhood later on, and the Sunday frock of +white foulard was most sweet. + +Michael was very silent; it almost made her nervous, but she prattled +on. + +"This is my best frock," she laughed, "because even though it is only a +business arrangement, one couldn't get married in an old blouse, could +one?" + +"Of course not!" and he strode nearer to her. "I am in evening dress, +you see--just like a French bridegroom for those wedding parties in the +Bois! so we are both festive--but here we are at the postern door!" + +He opened it with his key and they stole across the short lawn and up +the balcony steps like two stealthy marauders. Then he turned and held +out his hand to her in the blaze of electric light. + +"Welcome! Oh! it is good of you to have come!" + +She shook hands frankly--it seemed the right thing to do, she felt, +since they were going to oblige one another and both gain their desires. +Then it struck her for the first time that he was a very handsome young +man--quite the Prince Charming of the girls' dreams. A thousand times +finer than Moravia's Italian prince with whom for her part she had been +horribly disappointed when she had seen his photograph. Only it was too +silly to consider this one in that light, since he wasn't really going +to be hers--only a means to an end. Oh! the pleasure to be free and rich +and to do exactly what she pleased! She had been planning all these days +what she would do. She would get back to the Inn not later than ten, and +creep quietly up to her room through that side door which was always +open into the yard. The weather was so beautiful it would be nothing, +even if the Inn people did see her entering--she might have been out for +a stroll in the twilight. Then at six in the morning she would creep out +again and go to the station; there was a train which left for Edinburgh +at half-past--and there she would get a fast express to London later on, +after a good breakfast; and once in London a cab would take her to Mr. +Parsons', and after that!--money and freedom! + +She had planned it all. She would leave a letter for her Uncle and Aunt, +saying she was married and had gone and they need not trouble themselves +any more about her. Mr. Parsons would tell her where to stay and help +her to get a good maid like Moravia had, and then she would go to Paris +just as Moravia had done and buy all sorts of lovely clothes; it would +take her perhaps a whole month, and then when she was a very grand, +grown-up lady, she would write to her dear friend and say now she was +ready to accept her invitation to go and stay with her! And what +absolute joy to give Moravia such a surprise! to say she was married and +free! and had quite as nice things as even that Princess! It was all a +simply glorious picture--and but for this kind young man it could never +have been hers--but her fate would have been--Samuel Greenbank or Aunt +Jemima for four years! It was no wonder she felt grateful to him! and +that her handshake was full of cordiality. + +Michael pulled himself together rather sharply, the blood was now +running very fast in his veins. + +"Wait here," he said to her, "while I go into the chapel to see if Mr. +Fergusson and the two witnesses are ready." + +They were--Johnson and Alexander Armstrong--and the old chaplain who had +been Michael's father's tutor and was now an almost doddering old +nonentity also stood waiting in his white surplice at the altar rails. + +The candles were all lit and great bunches of white lilies gave forth a +heavy scent. A strange sense of intoxication rose to Michael's brain. +When he returned to his sitting-room he found his bride-to-be arranging +her hat at the old mirror which had reflected her before. + +"Won't you take it off?" he suggested--"and see, I have got you some +flowers----" and he brought her a great bunch of stephanotis which lay +waiting upon a table near. + +"There is no orange-blossom--because that is for real weddings--but +won't you just put this bit of stephanotis in your hair?" and he broke +off a few blooms. + +She was delighted, she loved dressing up, and she fixed it most +becomingly with dexterous fingers above her left ear. + +"You do look sweet," he told her. "Now we must come----" and he gave her +his arm. She took it with that grave look of a child acting in a very +serious grown-up play. She was perfectly delicious with her blooming +youth and freshness and dimples--her violet eyes shining like stars, and +her red full lips pouting like appetizing ripe cherries. Michael +trembled a little as he felt her small hand upon his arm. + +They walked to the altar rails and the ceremony began. + +But, with the first words of the old clergyman's voice, a new and +unknown excitement came over Sabine. The night and the gorgeous chapel +and the candles and the flowers all affected her deeply, just as the +grand feast days used to do at the convent. A sudden realization of the +mystery of things overcame her and frightened her, so that her voice was +hardly audible as she repeated the clergyman's words. + +What were these vows she was making before God? She dared not +think--the whole thing was a maze, a dream. It was too late to run +away--but it was terrible--she wanted to scream. + +At last she felt her bridegroom place the ring upon her finger, now ice +cold. + +And then she was conscious that she was listening to these words: + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." + +After that she must have reeled a little, for she felt a strong arm +encircle her waist for a moment. + +Then she knew she was kneeling and that words of no meaning whatever +were being buzzed over her head. + +And lastly she was vividly awakened to burning consciousness by the +first man's kiss which had ever touched her innocent lips. + +So she was married--and this was her husband, this splendid, beautiful +young man there beside her in his evening clothes--and it was over--and +she was going away and would never see him again--and what had she +done?--and would God be very angry?--since it was all really in a +church! + +Her hand trembled as she wrote her name, Sabine Delburg, for the last +time, and she was shivering all over as she walked back with her +newly-made husband to his sitting-room through the gloomy corridor. +There it was all brilliant light again, the light of soft silk-shaded +lamps--and the center table was cleared and supper for two and opened +champagne awaited them. They were both very pale, and Sabine sat down in +a chair. + +"Mr. Fergusson will bring a copy of the certificate in a minute," +Michael said to her, "and then we can have some supper--but now, come, +we must drink each other's healths." + +He poured out the wine into two glasses and handed her one. She had +never tasted champagne before--but sipped it as she was bid. It did not +seem to her a very nice drink--not to be compared to _sirop aux +fraises_--but she knew at weddings people always had champagne. + +Michael gulped down a bumper, and it steadied his nerves and the fresh, +vigorously healthy color came back to his face. The whole situation had +excited his every sense. + +"Let me wish you all joy--Mrs.--Arranstoun!" he said. + +The little bride laughed her rippling laugh. This brought her back to +earth and the material, jolly side of things, it was so funny to hear +herself thus called. + +"Oh! that does sound odd!" she cried. "I shall never call myself +that--why, people might know I must be something connected with this +castle, and they would be questioning, and I couldn't have a scrap of +fun! You have got another name--you said it just now, 'Michael Howard +Arranstoun'--that will do. I shall be Mrs. Howard! It is quite +ordinary--and shall I be a widow? I've never thought of all this yet. +Oh! it will be fun." + +Every second of the time her charm was further affecting Michael--he was +not conscious of any definite intention--only to talk to her--to detain +her as long as possible. She was like a breath of exquisite spring air +after Violet Hatfield. + +Mr. Fergusson here came in from the chapel with the certificate--and his +presence seemed a great bore, and after thanking him for his services, +Michael poured him out some wine to drink their healths, and then the +butler announced that the brougham was waiting at the door to take the +old gentleman home. + +Sabine had stood up on his entrance and came forward to wish him +good-bye; now that the certificate was there she intended to go herself +by the balcony steps as soon as he should be safely off by the door. + +"Good-bye, my dear young lady, I have known your husband since he was +born, and with all his faults he is a splendid fellow; let me wish you +every happiness and prosperity together and may you be blessed with many +children and peace." + +Sabine stiffened--she felt she ought to enlighten the benevolent old +man, who evidently did not understand at all that she was going to trip +off--not as he, just to her own home, but out of Mr. Arranstoun's life +forever--but no suitable words would come, and Michael, afraid of what +she might say, hurried his chaplain off without more ado and then +returned to her and shut the door. + +Now they were absolutely alone and the clock struck ten in the courtyard +with measured strokes. + +"Let us begin supper," he said, with what calmness he could. + +"But I ought to go back at once," his bride protested; "the Inn may be +shut and then what in the world should I do?" + +"There is plenty of time, it certainly won't close its doors until +eleven--have some soup--or a cold quail and some salad--and see, I have +not forgotten the wedding-cake--you must cut that!" + +Sabine was very hungry; she had had to pretend her head was aching too +much to go with her elders to the ruins of Elbank and had retired to her +room before they left, and had had no tea, and such dainties were not to +be resisted, especially the cake! After all, it could not be any harm +staying just this little while longer since no one would ever know, and +people who got married always did cut their own cakes. So she sat down +and began, he taking every care of her. They had the merriest supper, +and even the champagne, more of which he gave her, did not taste so +nasty after the first sip. + +She had quail and salad and a wonderful ice--better than any, even on +the day of the holiday for Moravia's wedding far away in Rome; and +there were marrons glacés, too, and other divine bon-bons--and +strawberries and cream! + +She had never enjoyed herself so much in her whole life. Her perfectly +innocent prattle enchanted Michael more and more with its touches of +shrewd common sense. He drank a good deal of champagne, too--and +finally, when it came to cutting the cake time, a wild thought began to +enter his head. + +The icing was rather hard, and he had to help her--and stood beside her, +very near. + +She looked up smilingly and saw something in his face. It caused her a +sudden wild emotion of she knew not what--and then she felt very nervous +and full of fear. + +She moved abruptly away from him to the other side of the table, leaving +the cake--and stood looking at him with great, troubled, violet eyes. + +He followed her. + +"You little, sweet darling!" he whispered, his voice very deep. "Why +should you ever go away from me--I want to teach you to love me, Sabine. +You belong to me, you know--you are mine. I shall not let you leave me! +I shall keep you and hold you close!" + +And he clasped her in his arms. + +For he was a man, you see--and the moment had come! + + + + +CHAPTER V + +FIVE YEARS AFTERWARDS + + +Mr. Elias Cloudwater came up the steps of the Savoy Hotel at Carlsbad, +and called to the Arab who was waiting about: + +"Has the Princess come in from her drive yet?" + +He was informed that she had not, and he sat down in the verandah to +wait. He was both an American gentleman and an American father, +therefore he was accustomed to waiting for his women folk and did not +fidget. He read the _New York Herald_, and when he had devoured the +share list, he glanced at the society news and read that, among others +who were expected at the Bohemian health resort that day, was Lord +Fordyce, motoring, for a stay of three weeks for the cure. + +He did not know this gentleman personally, and the fact would not have +arrested his attention at all only that he chanced to be interested in +English politics. He wondered vaguely if he would be an agreeable +acquisition to the place, and then turned to more thrilling things. +Presently a slender young woman came down the path through the woods and +leisurely entered the gate. Mr. Cloudwater watched her, and a kindly +smile lit his face. He thought how pretty she was, and how glad he was +that she had joined Moravia and himself again this summer. The months +when she went off by herself to her house in Brittany always seemed very +long. He saw her coming from far enough to be able to take in every +detail about her. Extreme slenderness and extreme grace were her +distinctive marks. The face was childish and rounded in outline, but +when you looked into the violet eyes there was some shadow of a story +hidden there. She was about twenty-two years old, and was certainly not +at Carlsbad for any reasons of cure, for her glowing complexion told a +tale of radiant health. + +Her white clothes were absolutely perfect in their simplicity, and so +was her air of unconcern and indifference. "The enigma" her friends +often called her. She seemed so frank and simple, and no one ever got +beyond the wall of what she was really thinking--what did she do with +her life? It seemed ridiculous that any one so rich and attractive and +young should care to pass long periods of time at a wild spot near +Finisterre, in an old château perched upon the rocks, completely alone +but for an elderly female companion. + +There was, of course, some hidden tragedy about her husband--who was a +raging lunatic or an inebriate shut up somewhere--perhaps there! They +had had to part at once--he had gone mad on the wedding journey, some +believed, but others said this was not at all the case, and that she had +married an Indian chief and then parted from him immediately in +America--finding out the horror of being wedded to a savage. No one knew +anything for a fact, only that when she did come into the civilized +world, it was always with the Princess Torniloni and her father, who, if +they knew the truth of Mrs. Howard's story, never gave it away. Men +swarmed around her, but she appeared completely unconcerned and friendly +with them all, and not even the most envious of the other Americans who +were trying to climb into Princess Torniloni's exclusive society had +ever been able to make up any scandals about her. + +"I have had such an enchanting walk, Clowdy, dear," the slim young woman +said as she sat down in a basket-chair near Mr. Cloudwater. "I am so +glad we came here, aren't you?--and I am sure it will do Moravia no end +of good. She passed me as I was coming from the Aberg on her way to Hans +Heiling, so she will not be in yet. Let us have tea." + +The Arab called the waiter, who brought it to them. One or two other +little groups were having some, too, but Mr. Cloudwater's party were +singularly ungregarious, and avoided making acquaintances in hotels. He +and Mrs. Howard chatted alone together over theirs for about half an +hour. Presently there was the noise of a motor arriving. It whirled into +the gate and stopped where they usually do, a little at one side. It +was very dusty and travel-stained, and beside the chauffeur there got +out a tall, fair Englishman. The personnel of the hotel came forward to +meet him with empressement, and as he passed where Mr. Cloudwater and +Mrs. Howard were sitting, they heard him say: + +"My servant brought the luggage by train this morning, so I suppose the +rooms are ready." + +"They are a wonderful race," Mr. Cloudwater remarked, "aren't they, +Sabine. I never can understand why you should so persistently avoid +them--they really have much more in common with ourselves than Latins." + +"That is why perhaps--one likes contrasts--and French and Russians, or +Germans, are far more intelligent. Every one to his taste!" and Mrs. +Howard smiled. + +The Englishman came out again in a few minutes, and sitting down lazily, +as though he were alone upon the balcony terrace, he ordered some tea. +Not the remotest scrap of interest in his surroundings or companions lit +up his face. He might have been forty or forty-two, perhaps, but being +so fair he looked a good deal younger, and had a peculiar distinction of +his own. + +"That is what I object to about them," Mrs. Howard remarked presently, +"their abominable arrogance. Look at that man. It is just as though +there was no one else on this balcony but himself--no one else exists +for him!" + +"Why, Sabine, you are severe! He looks to me to be a pretty +considerably nice man--and he is only reading the paper as I have been +doing myself," Mr. Cloudwater rejoined. "Perhaps he is the English +nobleman who I read was expected to-day--Lord Fordyce, the paper +said--and wasn't that the name of rather a prominent English politician +who had to go into the Upper House last year when his father died--and +it was considered he would be a loss to the Commons?" + +"I really don't know. I don't take the slightest interest in them or +their politics. Ah! here is Moravia----" and both rose to meet a very +charming lady who drove up in a victoria and got out. + +She had all the perfection of detail which characterizes the very +best-dressed American woman--and she had every attraction except, +perhaps, a voice--but even that she knew how to modulate and disguise, +so that it was no wonder that the Princess Torniloni passed for one of +the most beautiful women in Rome or Paris, or Cairo or New York, +whenever she graced any of the cities with her presence. She was a +widow, too, and very rich. The Prince, her husband, had been dead for +nearly two years, and she was wearing grays and whites and mauves. + +He had been a brute, too, but unlike her friend, Mrs. Howard's husband, +he had had the good taste to be killed riding in a steeplechase, and so +all went well, and the pretty Princess was free to wander the world over +with her indulgent father. + +"It is just too lovely for words up in those woods, papa," she said, +"and I have had my tea in a dear little châlet restaurant. You did not +wait for me, I hope?" + +They assured her they had not done so, and she sat down in a comfortable +chair. Her arrival caused a flutter among the other occupants of the +terrace, and even the Englishman glanced up. This group had at last made +some impression it would seem upon the retina of his eye, for he looked +deliberately at them and realized that the two women were quite worthy +of his scrutiny. + +"But I hate Americans," he said to himself. "They are such actresses, +you never know where you are with them--these two, though, appear some +of the best." + +Presently they went into the hotel, passing him very closely--and for a +second his eyes met the violet ones of Sabine Howard, and he was +conscious that he felt distinctly interested, much to his disgust. + +But, after all, he was here for a cure and a rest, and he had always +believed in women as recreations. + +His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant, and later he wrote +to his friend, Michael Arranstoun, loitering at Ostende: + + The hotel is quite decent--and after your long sojourn in the + wilds, you will have an overdose of polo and expensive ladies and + baccarat. You had much better join me here at the end of the week. + There are two pretty women who would be quite your affair. They + have the next table, and neither of them can be taking the cure. + +But Mr. Arranstoun, when he received this missive, had other things to +do. He had been out of England, and indeed Europe, for nearly five +years--having, in the summer of 1907, joined a friend to explore the +innermost borders of China and Tibet, and there the passion for this +kind of thing had overtaken him, and his own home knew him no more. + +Now, however, he had announced that he had returned for good, and +intended to spend the rest of his days at Arranstoun as a model +landlord. + +He started this by playing polo at Ostende, where he had run across +Henry Fordyce. They had cordially grasped each other's hands, their +estrangement forgotten when face to face; and the only mention there had +been of the circumstances which had caused their parting were in a few +sentences. + +"By Jove, Henry, it is five whole years since you thundered morals at me +and shook the dust of Arranstoun from your feet!" + +"You did behave abominably, Michael--but I am awfully glad to see +you--and the scene at Ebbsworth, when Violet Hatfield read the notice in +the Scotsman of your marriage, made me feel you had been almost +justified in taking any course you could to make yourself safe. But how +about your wife? Have you ever seen her again?" + +"No. My lawyer tells me I can divorce her now for desertion. I should +have to make some pretence of asking her to return to me, he says, which +of course she would refuse to do--and then both can be free, but, for my +part, I am not hankering after freedom much--I do very well as I am--and +I always cherish a rather tender recollection of her." + +[Illustration: "His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant"] + +Henry laughed. + +"I have often pictured that wedding," he said, "and the little bride +going off with her certificate and your name all alone. No family turned +up awkwardly at the last moment to mar things; she left safely after the +ceremony, eh?" + +Michael looked away suddenly, and then answered with overdone unconcern: + +"Yes--soon after the ceremony." + +"I do wonder you had no curiosity to investigate her character further!" + +"I had--but she did not appreciate my interest--and--after she had +gone--I was rather in a bad temper, and I reasoned myself into believing +she was probably right--also just then I wanted to join Latimer +Berkeley's expedition to China. I remember, his letter about it came by +the next morning's post--so I went--but do you know, Henry, I believe +that little girl made some lasting impression upon me. I believe, if she +had stayed, I should have been frantically in love with her--but she +went, so there it is!" + +"Why don't you try to find her?" Henry asked. + +"Perhaps I mean to some day. I have thought of doing so often, but +first China, and then one thing and another have stopped me--besides, +she may have fancied some other fellow by this time--the whole thing was +one of those colossal mistakes. If we could only have met +ordinarily--and not married in a hurry and then parted--like that." + +"Has it never struck you she was rather young to be left to drift by +herself?" + +"Yes, often--" Then Michael grew a little constrained. "I believe I +behaved like the most impossible brute, Henry--in marrying her at all as +you said--but I would like to make it up to her some day--and I suppose +if, by chance, she has taken a fancy to someone else by this time and +wants to be free of me, I ought to divorce her--but, by Heaven, I +believe I should hate that!" + +"You dog in the manger!" + +"Yes, I am----" + +And so the subject had ended. + +And now Henry, third Lord Fordyce, was taking a mild cure at Carlsbad, +and had decided that in his leisure moments he would begin to write a +book--a project which had long simmered in his brain; but after two days +of sitting by the American party at each meal, a very strong desire to +converse with them--especially the one with the strange violet +eyes--overcame him; and with deliberate intention he scraped +acquaintance with Mr. Cloudwater in the exercise room of the Kaiserbad, +who, with polite ceremony, presented him that evening to his daughter +and her friend. + +Sabine had been particularly silent and irritating, Moravia thought, and +as they went up to bed she scolded her about it. + +"He is a perfect darling, Sabine," she declared, "and will do splendidly +to take walks with us and make the fourth. He is so lazy and English and +phlegmatic--I'd like to make him crazy with love--but he looked at you, +you little witch, not at me at all." + +"You are welcome to him, Morri--I don't care for Englishmen. Good-night, +pet," and Mrs. Howard kissed her friend, and going in to her room, she +shut the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +More than a week went by, and it seemed quite natural now to Lord +Fordyce to shape his days according to the plans of the American party, +and when they met at the Schlossbrunn in the morning at half-past seven, +and he and Mr. Cloudwater and the Princess had drunk their tumblers of +water together, their custom was to go on down to the town and there +find Sabine, who had bought their slices of ham and their rolls, and +awaited them at the end of the Alte Weise with the pink paper bags, and +then the four proceeded to walk to the Kaiser Park to breakfast. + +This meal was so merry, Mrs. Howard tantalizing the others by having +cream in her coffee and sugar upon her wild strawberries, while they +were only permitted to take theirs plain. + +During the stroll there it was Sabine's custom persistently to adhere to +the side of Mr. Cloudwater, leaving the other two tête-à-tête--and, +delightful as Lord Fordyce found the Princess, this irritated him. He +discovered himself, as the days advanced, to be experiencing a distinct +longing to know what was passing in that little head, whose violet eyes +looked out with so much mystery and shadow in their depths. He could not +tell himself that she avoided him; she was always friendly and casual +and perfectly at her ease, but no extra look of pleasure or welcome for +him personally ever came into her face, and never once had he been able +to speak to her really alone. Mr. Cloudwater and the two ladies drove +back from breakfast each day, and he was left to take his exercises and +his bath. Now and then he had encountered the Princess in the near woods +just before luncheon, returning from the Kaiserbad, but Mrs. Howard +never--and when he inquired how she spent her time, she replied however +she happened to fancy, which gave him no clue as to where he might find +her--and with all her frank charm, she was not a person to whom it was +easy to put a direct question. Lord Fordyce began to grow too interested +for his peace of mind. When he realized this, he got very angry with +himself. He had never permitted a woman to be anything but a mild +recreation in his life, and at forty it was a little late to begin to +experience something serious about one. + +They often motored in the afternoon to various resorts not too far +distant, and there took tea; and for two whole days it had been wet and, +except at meals, the ladies had lain _perdues_. + +However fate was kind on a Saturday morning, and allowed Lord Fordyce +to chance upon Mrs. Howard, right up at the Belvedere in the far woods, +looking over the valley. She was quite alone, and her slender figure was +outlined against the bright sunlight as she leaned on the balustrade +gazing down at the exquisite scene. + +Henry could have cried aloud in joy, "At last!" but he restrained +himself, and instead only said a casual "Hullo!" Mrs. Howard turned and +looked at him, and answered his greeting with frank cordiality. + +"Have you never been here before? I think it is one of the most lovely +spots in the whole woods, and at this time there is never any one--what +made you penetrate so far?" + +"Good fortune! The jade has been unkind until now." + +They leant on the balustrade together. + +"I always like being up on a high mountain and looking down at things, +don't you?" she said. + +"No, not always--one feels lonely--but it is nice if one is with a +suitable companion. How have you, at your age, managed to become +self-sufficing?" + +"Circumstance, I expect, has taught me the beauty of solitude. I spend +months alone in Brittany." + +"And what do you do--read most of the time?" + +He was so enchanted that she was not turning the conversation into banal +things, he determined not to say anything which would cause her again +to draw down the blind of bland politeness. + +"Yes, I read a great deal. You see, Moravia and I were at a convent +together, and there, beyond teaching us to spell and to write and do a +few sums and learn a garbled version of French history, a little music, +and a great deal of embroidery, they left us totally ignorant--one must +try to supply the deficiencies oneself. It is appalling to remain +ignorant once one realizes that one is." + +"Knowledge on any subject is interesting--did you begin generally--or +did you specialize?" + +"I always wanted to be just--and to understand things. The whole of life +and existence seemed too difficult--I think I began trying to find some +key to that and this opened the door to general information, and so +eventually, perhaps, one specializes." + +He was wise enough not to press the question into what her specializing +ran. He adored subtleties, and he noted with delight that she was not so +completely indifferent as usual. If he could keep her attention for a +little while, they might have a really interesting investigation of each +other's thoughts. + +"I like thinking of things, too--and trying to discover their meanings +and what caused them. We are all, of course, the victims of heredity." + +"That may be," she agreed, "but the will can control any heredity. It +can only manifest itself when we let ourselves drift. The tragedy of it +is that we have drifted too far sometimes before we learn that we could +have directed the course if we had willed. Ignorance is seemingly the +most cruel foe we have to encounter, because we are so defenseless, not +knowing he is there." + +She sighed unconsciously and looked out over the beautiful tree-tops, +down to where the Kaiser Park appeared like a little doll's châlet set +among streams and pastures green. + +Lord Fordyce was much moved. She was prettier and sweeter than he had +even fancied she would be could he ever contrive to find her all alone. +He watched her covertly; the exquisite peachy skin with its pure color, +and her soft brown hair dressed with a simplicity which he thought +perfection, all appealed to him, and those strange violet eyes rather +round and heavily lashed with brown-shaded lashes, darker at the tips. +The type was not intense or of a studious mould. Circumstance must +indeed have formed an exotic character to have grafted such deep meaning +in their innocent depths. She went on presently, not remarking his +silence. + +"It is heredity which makes my country women so nervous and unstable as +a rule. You don't like them, as I know," and she smiled, "and I think, +from your point of view, you are right. You see, we are nearly all +mushroom growths, sprung up in a night--and we have not had time for +poise, or the acceptance with calmness of our good fortune. We are as +yet unbalanced by it, and don't know what we want." + +"You are very charming," and he looked truthful, and at that moment felt +so. + +"Yes, I know--we can be more charming than any other women because we +have learnt from all the other nations and play which ever part we wish +to select." + +"Yes," he admitted, rather too quickly--and her rippling laugh rang out. +He had hardly ever heard her laugh, and it enchanted him, even though he +was nettled at her understanding of his thought. + +"It remains for men to make us desire to play the same part always--if +they find it agreeable." + +Again he said "Yes"--but this time slowly. + +"Now you Englishmen have the heredity of absolute phlegm to fight. While +we ought to be trying to counteract jumping from one rôle to another, +you ought to try to teach yourselves that versatility is a good thing, +too, in its way." + +"I am sure it is. I wish you would teach me to understand it--but you +yourself seem to be restful and stable. How have you achieved this?" + +"By studying the meaning of things, I suppose, and checking myself every +time I began to want to do the restless things I saw my countrywomen +doing. We have wonderful wills, you know, and if we want a thing +sufficiently, we can get anything. That is why Moravia says we make such +successful great ladies in the different countries we marry into. Your +great ladies, if they are nice, are great naturally, and if they are +not, they often fail, even if they are born aristocrats. We do not often +fail, because we know very well we are taking on a part, and must play +it to the very best of our ability all the time--and gradually we play +it better than if it were natural." + +"What a little cynic! 'Out of the mouths of babes'!" and he laughed. + +"I am not at all a cynic! It is the truth I am telling you. I admire and +respect our methods far more than yours, which just 'growed' like +Topsy!" + +"But cynicism and truth are, unfortunately, synonymous. Only you are too +young, and ought not to know anything about either!" + +"I like to know and do things I ought not to!" Her eyes were merry. + +"Tell me some more about your countrywomen. I'm awfully interested, and +have always been too frightened of their brilliancy to investigate +myself." + +"We are not nearly so bothered with hearts as Europeans--heredity again. +Our mothers and fathers generally sprang from people working too hard to +have great emotions--then we arrive, and have every luxury poured upon +us from birth; and if we have hardy characters we weather the deluge and +remain very decent citizens." + +"And if you have not?" + +"Why, naturally the instincts for hard work, which made our parents +succeed, if they remain idle must make some explosion. So we grow +restless in our palaces, and get fads and nerves and quaint +diseases--and have to come to Carlsbad--and talk to sober Englishmen!" +The look of mischief which she vouchsafed him was perfectly adorable. He +was duly affected. + +"You take us as a sort of cure!" + +"Yes----!" + +"How do you know so much about us and our faults? I gathered, from what +you said last night at dinner, that you have never been in England but +once, for a month, when you were almost a child." + +"The rarest specimens come abroad," and a dimple showed in her left +cheek, "and I read about you in your best novels--even your authors +unconsciously give you away and show your selfishness and arrogance and +self-satisfaction." + +"Shocking brutes, aren't we?" + +"Perfectly." + +Then they both laughed, and Sabine suggested it was time they returned +to luncheon. + +"It is quite two miles from here, and Mr. Cloudwater, although the +kindest dear old gentleman, begins to get hungry at one o'clock." + +So they turned and sauntered downwards through the lovely green woods, +with the warm hum of insects and the soft summer, glancing sunshine. And +all of you who know the beauties of Carlsbad, or indeed any other of +those Bohemian spas, can just picture how agreeable was their walk, and +how conducive to amiable discussion and the acceleration of friendship. +Henry tried to get her to tell him some more of the secrets of her +countrywomen, but she would not be serious. She was in a merry mood, and +turned the fire into the enemy's camp, making him disclose the ways of +Englishmen. + +"I believe you like us as a rule because we are such casual creatures!" +he said at last, "rather indifferent about _petits soins_, and apt to +seize what we desire, or take it for granted." + +A sudden shadow came into her face which puzzled him, and she did not +answer, but went on to talk of Brittany and the place which she had +bought. Héronac--just a weird castle perched right upon a rock above a +fishing village, with the sea dashing at its base and the spray rising +right to her sitting-room windows. + +"I have to go across a causeway to my garden upon the main land--and +when it is very rough, I get soaking wet--it is the wildest place you +ever saw." + +"What on earth made you select it?" Lord Fordyce asked. "You, who look +like a fresh rose, to choose a grim brigand's stronghold as a +residence!" + +"It suited my mood on the day I first saw it--and I bought it the +following week. I make up my mind in a minute as to what I want." + +"You must let me motor past and look at it," he pleaded, "and when my +twenty-one days of drinking this uninteresting water is up, I intend +going back in my car to Paris, and from there down to see Mont St. +Michel." + +"You shall not only look at it--you may even come in--if you are nice +and do not bore me between now and then," and she glanced up at him +slyly. "I have an old companion, Madame Imogen Aubert--who lives with me +there--and she always hopes I shall one day have visitors!" + +Lord Fordyce promised he would be a pure sage, and if she would put him +on probation, and really take pains to sample his capabilities of not +boring in a few more walks, he would come up for judgment at Héronac +when it was her good pleasure to name a date. + +"I shall be there toward the middle of August. After we leave here, the +Princess and dear Cloudie go to Italy with her little son, the baby +Torniloni: he is such a darling, nearly three years old--he is at +Héronac now with his nurses." + +"And you go back to Brittany alone?" + +"Yes----" + +"Then I shall come, too." + +"If, at the end of your cure, you have not bored me!" + +By this time they had got down to the Savoy gate--and there found +Moravia and Mr. Cloudwater waiting for them on the balcony--clamoring +for lunch. + +Princess Torniloni gave a swift, keen glance at the two who had +entered, but she did not express the thought which came to her. + +"It is rather hard that Sabine, who does not want him and is not free to +have him, should have drawn him instead of me." + +That night in the restaurant there came in and joined their party one of +those American men who are always to be met with in Paris or Aix or +Carlsbad or Monte Carlo, at whatever in any of these places represents +the Ritz Hotel, one who knew everybody and everything, a person of no +particular sex, but who always would make a party go with his stories +and his gaiety, and help along any hostess. Cranley Beaton was this +one's name. The Cloudwater party were all quite glad to welcome him and +hear news of their friends. One or two decent people had arrived that +afternoon also, and Moravia felt she could be quite amused and wear her +pretty clothes. Sabine hated the avalanches of dinners and lunches and +what not this would mean. Her sense of humor was very highly developed, +and she often laughed in a fond way over her friend, who was, in her +search for pleasure, still as keen as she had been in convent days. + +"You do remain so young, Morri!" she told her, as they linked arms going +up to bed. Their rooms were on the first floor, and they disdained the +lift. "Do you remember, you used to be the mother to all of us at St. +Anne's--and now I am the mother of us two!" + +"You are an old, wise-headed Sibyl--that is what you are, darling!" the +Princess returned. "I wish I could ever know what has so utterly changed +you from our convent days," and she sighed impatiently. "Then you were +the merriest madcap, ready to tease any one and to have any lark, and +for nearly these four years since we have been together again you have +been another person--grave and self-possessed. What are you always +thinking of, Sabine?" + +They had reached their sitting-room, and Mrs. Howard went to the window +and opened it wide. + +"I grew up in one year, Moravia--I grew a hundred years old, and all the +studies which I indulge in at Héronac teach me that peace and poise are +the things to aim at. I cannot tell you any more." + +"I did not mean to probe into your secrets, darling," the Princess +exclaimed hastily. "I promised you I never would when you came to me +that November in Rome--we were both miserable enough, goodness knows! We +made the bargain that there should be no retrospects. And your angelic +goodness to me all that time when my little Girolamo was born, have made +me your eternal debtor. Why, but for you, darling, he might have been +snatched from me by the hateful Torniloni family!" + +"The sweet cherub!" + +Then their conversation turned to this absorbing topic, the perfections +of Girolamo! and as it is hardly one which could interest you or me, my +friend, let us go back to the smoking-room and listen to a conversation +going on between Cranley Beaton and Lord Fordyce. The latter, with great +skill, had begun to elicit certain information he desired from this +society register! + +"Yes, indeed," Mr. Beaton was saying. "She is a peach--The husband"--and +he looked extremely wise. "Oh! she made some frightful mésalliance out +West, and they say he's shut in a madhouse or home for inebriates. Her +entrance among us dates from when she first appeared in Paris, about +three years ago, with Princess Torniloni. She is awfully rich and +awfully good, and it is a real pity she does not divorce the ruffian and +begin again!" + +"She is not free, then?" and Lord Fordyce felt his heart sink. "I +thought, probably, she had got rid of any encumbrance, as it is fairly +easy over with you." + +"Why, she could in a moment if she wanted to, I expect," Mr. Beaton +assured his listener. "She hasn't fancied anyone else yet; when she +does, she will, no doubt." + +"Her husband is an American, then?" + +"Why, of course--didn't I tell you she came from the West? Why, I +remember crossing with her. She was in deep mourning--in the summer of +1908. She never spoke to anyone on board, and it was about eighteen +months after that I was presented to her in Paris. She gets prettier +every day." + +Lord Fordyce felt this was true. + +"So she could be free if she fancied anyone, you think?" he hazarded +casually, as though his interest in the subject had waned--and when Mr. +Beaton had answered, "Yes--rather," Lord Fordyce got up and sauntered +off toward bed. + +"One has to be up so early in the morning, here," he remarked agreeably. +"See you to-morrow at the Schlossbrunn?--Good-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +After this, for several days Mrs. Howard made it rather difficult for +Lord Fordyce to speak to her alone, although he saw her every day, and +at every meal, and each hour grew more enamored. She, for her part, was +certainly growing to like him. He soothed her; his intelligence was +highly trained, and he was courteous and gentle and sympathetic--but for +some reason which she could not explain, she had no wish to precipitate +matters. Her mind was quite without any definite desire or +determination, but, being a woman, she was perfectly aware that Henry +was falling in love with her. A number of other men had done so before, +and had then at once begun to be uninteresting in her eyes. It was as if +she were numb to the attraction of men--but this one had qualities which +appealed to her. Her own countrymen were never cultivated enough in +literature, and were too absorbed in stocks and shares to be able to +take flights of sentiment and imagination with her. Lord Fordyce +understood in a second--and they could discuss any subject with a +refined subtlety which enchanted her. + +Henry had not spent his life maneuvring love affairs with women, and +was not very clever at manipulating circumstance. He fretted and fumed +at not getting his desired tête-à-tête, but with all the will was too +hedged in by conventionality and a sense of politeness to force matters, +as his friend, Michael Arranstoun, would have done with high-handed +unconcern. Thus, his cure at Carlsbad was drawing to a close before he +again spent an afternoon quite alone with Sabine Howard. They had gone +to the Aberg to tea, and the Princess had expressed herself too tired to +walk back, and had got into the waiting carriage, making Cranley Beaton +accompany her. She was not in a perfectly amiable temper. Lord Fordyce +attracted her strongly, and it was plain to be seen he had only eyes for +Sabine--who cared for him not at all. The Princess found Cranley Beaton +absolutely tiresome--no better than the _New York Herald_, she thought +pettishly, or the _Continental Daily Mail_--to be with! The waters were +getting on her nerves, too; she would be glad to leave and go to +Sorrento with that Cupid among infants, Girolamo. Sabine had better +divorce her horror of a husband, and marry the man and have done with +it! + +Now the walk from the Aberg down through the woods is a peculiarly +delightful one and, even in the season at Carlsbad, not over-crowded by +people. Henry Fordyce felt duly elated at the prospect, and Mrs. Howard +had an air of pensive mischief in her violet eyes. Lord Fordyce, who had +been accustomed for years to making speeches for his party, and was +known as a ready orator, found himself rather silent, and even a little +nervous, for the first hundred yards or so. She looked so bewitching, he +thought, in her fresh white linen, showing up the round peachiness of +her young cheeks, and those curling, childish, brown lashes making their +shadow. He was overcome with a desire to kiss her. She was so supremely +healthy and delectable. He felt he had been altogether a fool in his +estimate of the serious necessities of life hitherto. Woman was now one +of them--and this woman supremely so. Why, if she could be freed from +bonds, should she not become his wife? But he felt it might be wiser not +to be too precipitate about suggesting the thing to her. She had +certainly given him no indication that she would receive the idea +favorably, and appeared to be of the type of character which could not +be coerced. He felt very glad Michael Arranstoun had not responded to +his pressing request to join him. It would be far better that that +irritatingly attractive specimen of manhood should not step upon the +scene, until he himself had some definite hope of affairs being +satisfactorily settled. + +They began their talk upon the lightest subjects, and gradually drifted +into one of the discussions of emotions in the abstract which are so +fascinating--and so dangerous--and which require skill to direct and +continue. + +Mrs. Howard held that pleasure could alone come from harmony of body and +spirit, while Lord Fordyce maintained that wild discords could also +produce it, and that it could not be defined as governed by any law. + +"One is sometimes full of pleasure even against one's will," he said. +"Every spiritual principle and conviction may be outraged, and yet for +some unaccountable reason pleasure remains." + +Mrs. Howard opened her eyes wide as if at a sudden thought. + +"Yes," she said. "I wish it were not true what you say, but it is--and +it is a great injustice." + +"What makes you say that?" Henry asked, quickly. "You were thinking of +some particular thing. Do tell me." + +"I was thinking how some people can sin and err in every way, and yet +there is something about them which causes them to be forgiven, and +which even causes pleasure while they are sinning; and there are others +who might do the same things and would be anathematised at once--and no +joy felt with them at any time. Moravia and I call it having 'it'--some +people have it, and some people have not got it, and that is the end of +the matter!" + +"It is a strange thing, but I know what you mean. I know one particular +case of it in a friend of mine. No matter what he does, one always +forgives him. It does not depend upon looks, either--although this +actual person is abominably good-looking--it does not depend upon +intelligence or character or--anything--as you say, it is just 'it.' Now +you have it, and the Princess, perfectly charming though she is, has +not." + +Sabine did not contradict him; she never was conventional, denying +truths for the sake of diffidence or politeness. Moravia was beautiful +and charming, but it was true she had not 'it.' + +"I think it applies more to men than to women," was all she said. + +"You were thinking of a man, then, when you spoke?" + +"Yes--I was thinking of a man--but it is not an interesting subject." + +Lord Fordyce decided that it was, but he did not continue it. + +"I want you to tell me all about Héronac," he requested, "and what +charmed you in it enough to make you buy it suddenly like that. How did +you come upon it?" + +"I had just arrived from America, at the end of July of 1908--four years +ago--and I found, when I got to Cherbourg, that I could not join my +friend, the Princess, as I had intended, because her husband had taken +her off to his country place near Naples. So I hired a motor and +wandered down into Brittany alone. I wanted to be alone. I was motoring +along, when a violent storm came on, furious rain and wind, and just at +the worst and weirdest moment, I passed Héronac, which is a few hundred +yards from the edge of the present village. It stands out in the sea on +a great spur of rock, entirely separated from the main land by a deep +chasm about thirty feet wide, over which there was then a broken bridge +which had once been a drawbridge. It was a huge, grim ruin with only a +few roofed rooms, built in about the thirteenth century originally, and +of course added to and modernized. The house actually standing within +the great towers is of the date of Louis XIV. It stood there, a dark +mass, defying the storm, although the huge waves splashed right up to +the windows." + +"It sounds repellent." + +"It was--fierce and grim and repellent, and it suited my mood--so I +stopped at the Inn, my old maid Simone and I, and I got permission to go +and see it. The landlord of the Inn had the keys. The last of the +Héronacs drank himself to death with absinthe in Paris, so the place was +closed, and was no doubt for sale. '_Mais oui!_' he told us. Simone was +terrified to cross the wretched bridge, with the water swirling beneath, +and we left her to go back to the Inn, while the landlord's son came +with me. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and was a most +extraordinary day, for now it began to thunder and lighten." + +"I wonder you were not afraid." + +"I am never afraid--I tell you, it suited me. There was still some +furniture in the roofed part of the inner court, and in the two great +towers which flank the main building--but in that the roof was off, but +the view from the windows when we crept along to them across the broken +floor was too superb, straight out to the ocean, the waves thundering at +the base. I made up my mind that night I would buy it if I could--and, +as I told you before, I did so in the following week." + +"How quaint of you!" + +"It has been the greatest delight to me, and, as you will see, I have +done something with it. I restored the center, and have made its +arrangements modern and comfortable, but have left that one huge room on +the first floor as it was, only with the roof mended. I spend hours and +hours in the deep window embrasures looking right over the sea. It has +taught me more of the meaning of things than all my books." + +"You speak as though you were an old woman," Lord Fordyce exclaimed, +"and you look only a mere child now--then, when you bought this +brigand's stronghold, you must have been in the nursery!" + +"I was over eighteen!" + +"A colossal age! it was simply ridiculous for you to be wanting dark +castles and solitude. What--?" and then he paused; he did not continue +his question. + +"I was really very old--I had been old for almost a year." + +"And do you mean to remain old always, or will you ever let anyone teach +you to be young?" + +Sabine looked away into the somber fir trees. They had got to a part of +the path where the woods on either side are black as night in their +depths. + +"I--don't--know," she said, very low. + +Lord Fordyce moved nearer to her. + +"I wish you would let me try to take away all those somber thoughts I +see sometimes in those sweet eyes." + +"How would you begin?" + +"By loving you very much--and then by trying to make you love me." + +"Does love take away dark thoughts, then--or does it bring them?" + +"That depends upon the love," he told her, eagerly. "When it is great +enough to be unselfish, it must bring peace and happiness, surely----" + +"They are good things--they are harmony--but----" + +"Yes--what are the buts?" his voice trembled a little. + +"Love seems to me to be a wild thing, a raging, tearing passion--Can it +ever be just tender and kind?" + +"I wish you would let me prove to you that it can." + +She looked into his face gravely, and there was nothing but honest +question in her violet eyes. + +"To what end?" she asked. + +"I would like you to marry me." He had said it now when he had not +intended to yet, and he was pale as death. + +She shrank from him a little. + +"But surely you know that I am not free!" + +"I hoped I--believed that you can make yourself so--if you knew how I +love you! I have never really loved any woman before in my life. I +always thought they should be only recreations--but the moment I saw +you, my whole opinions changed." + +She grew troubled. + +"I wish you had not said this to me," she faltered. "I--do not know that +I wish to change my life. I could, of course, be free, I suppose--if I +wanted to be--but--I am not sure. What would it mean if I listened to +you? Tell me! I am sometimes very lonely--and I like you so much." + +"I want to make you feel more than that, but I will be content with +whatever you will give me. I do not care one atom what dark page is in +your past, I know it can have been nothing of your own fault, and if it +were, I should not care--I only care for you--Sabine--will you not tell +me that you will try to let me make you happy. It would mean that, that +I should devote my whole life to making you happy." + +"A woman should be contented with that, surely," she said. And if Henry +Fordyce had had his usual critical wits about him unclouded by love, he +would have smiled his cynical smile and have said to himself: + +"The spark is not lit, my friend; her voice lacks enthusiasm and her +brows are calm," but he was like all lovers--blind--and only saw and +heard what could comfort his heart, and so caught at the straw with +delight. + +"Whatever you asked I would give you. Only say that you will let me set +about helping you to be free at once." + +Mrs. Howard, however, had not gone this far in her imaginings--the idea +had started in her brain, no doubt, but it had not matured yet, and all +was hesitancy. + +"I cannot promise anything. You must give me time to think, Lord +Fordyce." + +"Dearest, of course I will--but you will take steps to make yourself +free--will you not? I have not asked, and I will not ask you a single +question, only that you will tell me when I really may hope." + +His voice was deep with feeling, and his distinguished, clever face was +eager and full of devotion, as they turned an abrupt corner, and there +came face to face with two of their American acquaintances in the hotel. + +"Isn't this a charming walk, Mrs. Howard," and "Yes, isn't it!" and bows +and passings on; but it broke the current, destroyed the spell, and +released some spirit of mischief in Sabine's heart, for she would not +be grave for another second. She made Henry promise he would just amuse +her and not refer again to those serious topics unless she gave him +leave. And he, accustomed to go his own way unhampered by the caprices +of the gentle sex, agreed!--so under the dominion of love had he become! +for a woman, too, who in herself combined three things he had always +disliked. She was an American, she was very young, and she had an +equivocal position. But the little god does not consult the individual +before he shoots his darts, and punishes the most severely those who +have denied his power. + +By the time they had reached the Savoy, Sabine, with that aptitude, +though it was perfectly unconscious in her, which is the characteristic +of all her countrywomen, had reduced Lord Fordyce to complete +subjection, so that he was ready to do any mortal thing in the world for +her, and willing to grasp suggestions of hope upon any terms. + +She gave him a friendly smile, and disappeared up the stairs to their +sitting-room--there to find Moravia indulging in nerves. + +"I just want to scream, darling!" that lady said, and Sabine patted her +hands. + +"Then don't, Morri, dearest," she implored her. "You only want to +because your mother, if she had been idle, would have wanted to scrub +the floors--just as my father's business capacity came out in me just +now, and I fenced with and sampled a very noble gentleman instead of +being simple with him. Let us get above our instincts--and be the real +aristocrats we appear to the world!" + +But the Princess had to have some sal volatile. + +That night after dinner waywardness was upon Sabine. She would read the +_New York Herald_, which she had absolutely not glanced at since their +arrival at Carlsbad, so absorbed and entranced had she been in her walks +in the green woods, and so little interested was she ever in the doings +of the world. + +She glanced at the Trouville news, and the Homburg news with wandering +mind, and then her eye fell upon the polo at Ostende, and there she read +that the English team had been giving a delightful dance at the Casino, +where Mr. Michael Arranstoun had sumptuously entertained a party of his +friends--amongst them Miss Daisy Van der Horn. The paragraph was worded +with that masterly simplicity which distinguishes intelligent, modern +journalism; and left the reader's mind confused as to words, but clear +as to suggestion. Sabine Howard knew Miss Daisy Van der Horn. As she +read, the bright, soft color left her cheeks, and then returned with a +brilliant flush. + +It was the first time for five years she had ever read the name of +Arranstoun in any paper. She held the sheet firmly, and perused all the +other information of the day--but when she put it down, and joined in +the general conversation, it could have been remarked that her eyes +were glittering like fixed stars. + +And when, for a moment, they all went out on the balcony to breathe in +the warm, soft night, she whispered to Henry Fordyce: + +"I have been thinking--I will, at all events, begin to take steps to be +free." + +But to his rapturous, "My darling!" she replied, with lowered lids: + +"It will take some time--and you may not like waiting--And when I am +free--I do not know--only--I am tired, and I want someone to help me to +forget and begin again. Good-night." + +Then, after she got to her room, she opened the window wide, and looked +out upon the quiet firs. But nothing stilled the unrest in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Héronac was basking in the sun of an August morning, like some huge sea +monster which had clambered upon the wet rocks. + +The sea was intensely blue without a ripple upon it, and only the +smallest white line marked where its waters caressed the shore. + +Nature slumbered in the heat and was silent, and Sabine Howard, the +châtelaine of this quaint château, stood looking out of the deep windows +in her great sitting-room. It was a wonderful room. She had collected +dark panelling and tapestry to hide the grim stone walls, and had +managed to buy a splendidly carved and painted roof, while her sense of +color had run riot in beautiful silks for curtains. It was a remarkable +achievement for one so young, and who had begun so ignorantly. Her +mother's family had been decently enough bred, and her maternal +grandfather had been a fair artist, and that remarkable American +adaptability which she had inherited from her father had helped her in +many ways. Her sitting-room at Héronac was, of course, not perfect; and +to the trained eye of Henry Fordyce would present many anomalies; but +no one could deny that it was a charming apartment, or that it was a +glowing frame of rich tints for her youthful freshness. + +She had really studied in these years of her residence there, and each +month put something worth having into the storehouse of her intelligent +mind. She was as immeasurably removed from the Sabine Delburg of convent +days as light from darkness, and her companion had often been Monsieur +le Curé, an enchanting Jesuit priest, who had the care of the souls of +Héronac village. A great cynic, a pure Christian and a man of parts--a +distant connection of the original family--Gaston d'Héronac had known +the world in his day; and after much sorrow had found a hermitage in his +own village--a consolation in the company of this half-French, +half-American heiress, who had incorporated herself with the soil. He +was now seventy years of age and always a gentleman, with few of the +tiresome habits of the old. + +What joy he had found in opening the mind of his young Dame d'Héronac! + +It was frankly admitted that there were to be no discussions upon +religion. + +"I am a pagan, _cher père_," Sabine had said, almost immediately, "leave +me!--and let me enjoy your sweet church and your fisherfolks' faith. I +will come there every Sunday and say my prayers--_mes prières à +moi_--and then we can discuss philosophy afterwards or--what you will." + +And the priest had replied: + +"Religion is not of dogma. The paganism of Dame Sabine is as good in the +sight of le bon Dieu as the belief of Jean Rivée, who knows that his +boat was guided into the harbor on the night of the great storm by the +Holy Virgin, who posed Herself by the helm. Heavens! yes--it is God who +judges--not priests." + +It can be easily understood that with two minds of this breadth, Père +Anselme and Sabine Howard became real friends. + +The Curé, when he read with her the masters of the _dix-septième_ and +the _dix-huitième_ had a quaintly humorous expression in his old black +eye. + +"Not for girls or for priests--but for _des gens du monde_," he said to +her one day, on putting down a volume of Voltaire. + +"Of what matter," Sabine had answered. "Since I am not a girl, _cher +maître_, and you were once not a priest, and we are both _gens du +monde--hein_?" + +His breeding had been of enormous advantage to him, enabling him to +refrain from asking Sabine a single question; but he knew from her +ejaculations as time went on that she had passed through some furnace +during her eighteenth year, and it had seared her deeply. He even knew +more than this; he knew almost as much as Simone, eventually, but it +was all locked in his breast and never even alluded to between them. + +Sabine was waiting for him at this moment upon this glorious day in +August. Père Anselme was going to breakfast with her. + +He was announced presently, courtly and spare and distinguished in his +thread-bare soutane, and they went in to the breakfast-room, a round +chamber in the adjoining tower which had kitchens beneath. The walls +were here so thick, that only the sky could be seen from any window +except the southeastern one, from which you reviewed the gray slate +roofs of the later building within the courtyard, the part which had +been always habitable and which contained the salons and the guest +chambers, with only an oblique view of the sea. Here, in Héronac's +mistress' own apartments, the waves eternally encircled the base, and on +rough days rose in great clouds of spray almost to the deep mullions. + +"I am having visitors, Père Anselme," Sabine remarked, when Nicholas, +her fat butler, was handing the omelette. "Madame Imogen is enchanted," +and she smiled at that lady who had been waiting for déjeuner in the +room before they had entered. + +"_Tant mieux!_" responded the priest, with his mouth full of egg and +mushroom. In his youth, the Héronacs had not imported English nurses, +and he ate as his fathers had done before him. + +"So much the better. Our lady is too given to solitude, and but for the +meteor-like descents of the Princess Torniloni and her tamed father--" +(he used the word _aprivoisé_--"_son père aprivoisé_"!) "we should here +see very little of the outside world. And of what sex, madame, are these +new acquaintances, if one may ask?" + +"They are men, _cher père_--bold, bad Englishmen!--think of it! but I +can only tell you the name of one of them--the other is +problematical--he has merely been spoken of as, 'My friend'--but he is +young, I gather, so just the affaire of Mère Imogen!" + +"Why, that's likely!" chirped Madame Imogen, with a strong American +accent, in her French English. "But I do pine for some gay things down +here, don't you, Father?" + +Père Anselme was heard to murmur that he found youth enough in his +hostess, if you asked him. + +"At the same time, we must welcome these Englishmen," he added, "should +they be people of cultivation." He had heard that, in their upper +classes, the Englishmen of to-day were still the greatest gentlemen +left, and he would be pleased to meet examples of them. + +"They will arrive at about five o'clock, I suppose," Sabine announced. +"Have you seen about their rooms, Mère Imogen? Lord Fordyce is to have +the Louis XIV suite, and the friend the one beyond; and we will only let +them come into our house if they do not bore us. We shall dine in the +_salle-à-manger_ to-night and sit in the big salon." + +These rooms were seldom opened, except when Princess Torniloni came to +stay and brought her son, Sabine's godchild, who had elaborate nurseries +prepared for him. No other visitor had ever crossed the causeway, and +Madame Imogen's cute mind was asking itself why clemency had been +accorded to these two Britons. The English, as she knew, were not a +favored race with her employer. + +They had been together for about two years now, she and Sabine--and were +excellent friends. + +Madame Imogen Aubert had been in great straits in Paris, when Sabine had +heard of her through one of her many American acquaintances. Stupid +speculation by an over-confident, silly French husband just before his +death in Nevada had been the reason. Madame Imogen had the kindest heart +and the hardest common sense, and did credit to a distant Scotch +descent. She adored Sabine, as indeed she had reason to do, and looked +after her house and her servants with a hawk's eye. + +After déjeuner was over, the Dame d'Héronac and the Curé crossed the +causeway bridge, and beyond the great towered gate entered another at +the side, which conducted them into the garden, which sheltered itself +behind immensely big walls from the road which curled beyond it, and the +sea which bounded it on the northwest. Here, whatever horticultural +talent and money could procure had been lavished for four years, and +the results were beginning to show. It was a glorious mass of summer +flowers; and was the supreme pleasure of Père Anselme. He gardened with +the fervor of an enthusiast, and was the joy and terror of the +gardeners. + +They spent two hours in delightful work, and then the Curé went his +way--but just before he left for the hundred yards down the road where +his cottage stood, Sabine said to him: + +"Regard well Lord Fordyce to-night, _mon père_. It is possible I may +decide to know him very intimately some day--when I am free." + +The old priest looked at her questioningly. + +"You intend to remove your shackles yourself, then, my child? You will +not leave the affair to the good God--no?" + +"I think that it will be wiser that I should be free soon, _mon père_--_le +bon Dieu_ helps those who help themselves. Au revoir--and do not be late +for the Englishmen." + +The priest shrugged his high shoulders, as he walked off. + +"The dear child," he said to himself. "She does not know it, but the +image of the fierce one has not faded entirely even yet--it is natural, +though, that she should think of a mate. I must well examine this +Englishman!" + +Sabine went back into the walled garden again, and sat down under the +shelter of an arbour of green. She wanted to re-read a letter of Henry +Fordyce's, which she had received that day by the early and only post. + +It was rather a perfect letter for any young woman to have got, and she +knew that and valued all its literary and artistic merits. + +They had had long and frequent conversations in their last three days at +Carlsbad, during which they had grown nearer and still better friends. +His gentleness, his courtesy and diffidence were such incense to her +self-esteem, considering the position of importance he held in his own +country and the great place he seemed to occupy in the Princess' regard. +And he was her servant--her slave--and would certainly make the most +tender lover--some day! + +On their last afternoon, he had taken her hands and kissed them. + +"Sabine," he had said, with his voice trembling with emotion. "I have +shown you that I can control myself, and have not made any love to you +as I have longed to do. Won't you be generous, dearest, and give me some +definite hope--some definite promise that, when you are free, you will +give yourself to me and will be my wife----?" + +And she had answered--with more fervor than she really felt, because she +would hide some unaccountable reluctance: + +"Yes--I have written to-day to my lawyer, Mr. Parsons--to advise me how +to begin to take the necessary steps--and when it all goes through, +then--yes--I will marry you." + +But she would not let him kiss her, which he showed signs of desiring to +do. + +"You must wait until I am free, though my marriage is no tie; it has +never been one--after the first year. I will tell you the whole story, +if you want to hear it--but I wish to forget it all--only it is fair for +you to know there is no disgrace connected with it in any way." + +"I should not care one atom if there were," Henry said, ecstatically. +"You yourself could never have touched any disgrace. Your eyes are as +pure as the stars!" + +"I was extremely ignorant and foolish, as one is at seventeen. And now I +want to make something of life--some great thing--and your goodness and +your high and fine ideals will help me." + +"My dearest!" he had cried fervently. + +Sabine had said to the Princess that night, as they talked in their +sitting-room: + +"Do you know, Morri, I have almost decided to marry this +Englishman--some day. You have often told me I was foolish not to free +myself from any bonds, however lightly they held me--and I have never +wanted to--but now I do--at once--as soon as possible--before--my +husband can suggest being free of me! I have written to Mr. Parsons +already--and I suppose it will not take very long. The laws there, I +believe, are not so binding as in England--" and then she stopped short. + +"The laws--where?" Moravia could not refrain from asking; her curiosity +had at last won the day. + +"In Scotland, Morri. He was a Scotchman, not an American at all as every +one supposes." + +The Princess' eyes opened wide--and she had to bite her lips to keep +from asking more. + +"I have never seen him since the day after we were married--there cannot +be any difficulty about getting a divorce--can there?" + +"None, I should think," the Princess said shortly, and they kissed one +another good-night and each went to her room. + +But Moravia sat a long time, after her maid had left her, staring into +space. + +Fate was very cruel and contrary. It gave her everything that most +people could want, and refused her the one thing she desired herself. + +"He adores Sabine--who will trample on him--she always rules +everything--and I would have been his sympathetic companion, and would +have let him rule me--!" Then something she could not reconcile in her +mind struck her. + +If Sabine had never seen her husband since the day after she was +married--what had caused her to be so pale and sad and utterly changed +when she came to her, Moravia, in Rome--a year or more afterwards, and +to have made her break entirely with her uncle and aunt? The secret of +her friend's life lay in that year--that year after she herself married +and went off with her husband Girolamo to Italy--the year which Sabine +had spent in America--alone. But she knew very well that, fond as they +were of one another, Sabine would probably never tell her about it. So +presently she got into bed and, sighing at the incongruity and +inconsiderateness of circumstance, she turned out the light. + +Sabine that same night read of further entertainments at Ostende in the +_New York Herald_--and shut her full, firm lips with an ominous force. +And so she and Henry had parted at the Carlsbad station next day with +the understanding between them that, when Sabine could tell him that she +was free, he would be at liberty to press his suit and she would give a +favorable answer. + +She thought of these past things now for a moment while she re-read Lord +Fordyce's letter. It told her, there in her Héronac garden, in a hurried +P.S. that a friend had joined him that moment at Havre, and clamored to +be taken on the trip, too, claiming an old promise. He was quite a nice +young man--but if she did not want any extra person, she was to wire to +----, where they would arrive about eleven o'clock, and there this +interloper should be ruthlessly marooned! The post had evidently been +going, and the P.S. must have been written in frightful haste after the +advent of the friend--for his name was not even given. + +Sabine had not wired. She felt a certain sense of relief. It would make +someone to talk to Madame Imogen and the Curé--and cause there to be no +_gêne_. + +Then her thoughts turned to Henry himself with tender friendship. So +dear a companion, and how glad she would be to see him again. The ten +days since they had parted at Carlsbad seemed actually long! Surely it +was a wise thing to do to start her real life with one whom she could so +truly respect; there could be no pitfalls and disappointments! And his +great position in England would give scope for her ambition, which never +could be satisfied like Moravia's with just social things. She would +begin to study English politics and the other great matters which Henry +was interested in. He would find that what she had told him at Carlsbad +was true, and that, although he was naturally prejudiced against +Americans, he would have to admit that she, as his wife, played the part +as well, if not better, than one of his own countrywomen could have +done. She thrilled a little as the picture came up before her of the +large outlook she would have to survey, and the great situation she +would have to adorn, but sure of Henry's devoted kindness and gentleness +all the time. + +Yes--she would certainly marry him, perhaps by next year. Mr. Parsons +had written only yesterday, saying he had begun to take steps, as her +freedom must come from the side of her husband--who could divorce her +for desertion. She could not urge this plea against him, since she had +left him of her own free will. + +"He will jump at the chance, naturally," she said to herself--"and then, +perhaps, he will marry Daisy Van der Horn!" + +She was still a very young woman, you see, for all her four years of +deep education in the world of books! + +She put the letter back in her basket below the flowers she had picked, +and prepared to return to the château. To arrange various combinations +of color in vases was her peculiar joy--and her flower decorations were +her special care. She was just entering the great towered gate of +Héronac where resided the concierge, when she heard the whir of a motor +approaching in the distance, and she hurriedly slipped inside old +Berthe's parlor. She disliked dust and strangers, who, fortunately, very +seldom came upon this unbeaten track. + +She was watching from the window until they should have passed--it could +not be her guests, it was quite an hour too soon, when the motor whizzed +round the bend and stopped short at the gate! It was a big open one, and +the occupants wore goggles over their eyes; but she recognized Lord +Fordyce's figure, as he got out followed by a very tall young man, who +called out cheerily: + +"Yes--this must be the brigand's stronghold, Henry; let's thunder at the +bell." + +Then for a moment her knees gave way beneath her, and she sank into +Berthe's carved oaken chair. For the voice was the voice of Michael +Arranstoun--and when he pulled the goggles off, she could see, as she +peered through the window, his sunburnt face and bold blue eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Ostende had begun to bore Michael Arranstoun intolerably--he had lamed +his best pony and Miss Daisy Van der Horn was getting on his nerves. At +Ostende she, to use one of her own expressions, "was not the only pebble +on the beach." His nerves had had a good deal of exercise among that +exceedingly pleasure-loving, frolicsome crew. + +Five years in the wilds had not changed him much, except to add to his +annoying charm. He was more absolutely dare-devil and sure of himself +and careless of all else than ever. Miss Daisy Van der Horn--and a +number of Clarices and Germaines and Lolos--were "just crazy" about him. +And they mattered to him not a single straw. He laughed--and kissed them +when he felt inclined, and then when all had begun to weary him he rode +away--or rather sent his polo ponies back to England and got into the +express for Paris, expecting there to find Henry Fordyce returned from +Carlsbad--only to hear that he had just started in his motor for +Brittany, and by that evening would have arrived at Havre. + +Michael had nothing special to do and so followed him there at once by +train, coming upon him just as he was closing his letter to Mrs. Howard. +Then in his usual whirlwind way, which must be obeyed--he had persuaded +Henry to take him on with him, inwardly against that astute +politician's, but diffident lover's will. + +"Look here, Michael," he had said, "I am going to see the lady of my +heart--you know, and you will probably be in the way!" + +"Not a bit, old boy--I'll play the helpful friend and spin things along. +What's she like?" + +Here Lord Fordyce gave a guarded description--but with the enthusiasm of +a man who is no longer quite young but madly in love. + +"Good Lord!" whistled Michael. "She must be a daisy! And when are you +going to be married, old man? I'll lend you Arranstoun for the +honeymoon--damned good place for a honeymoon--" and then he stopped +short suddenly and laughed with a strange regretful sound in his mirth. + +"Alas!" Henry sighed. "I cannot say--she is an American, you know, and +has been married to a brute of her own nation out west, whom she has to +get perfectly free of before I can have the honor to call her mine." + +"Whew!" + +"Yes, it is a dreadful bore having to wait. They arrange divorces +wonderfully well over there though it is only a question of a few +months, I suppose--but she would be worth waiting for for ten years----" + +"It is simply glorious to hear you raving so, old bird!" Michael +laughed. "When I think of the lectures you used to give me about +women--mere recreations for a man's leisure moments, I think you called +them, and not to be taken seriously in a man's real life!" + +"I have completely changed my opinions," Lord Fordyce announced, rather +nettled. "So would any man if he knew Mrs. Howard." + +"Howard?" asked Michael--"but anyone can be a Talbot or a Howard or a +Cavendish out there--so she is a Mrs. Howard, is she? I wonder who the +husband was--I had a rascally cousin of that name who went to +Arizona--perhaps she married him." + +"Her husband was an American," Henry rejoined, "and is in a madhouse or +an institution for inebriates, I believe." + +"Well, I wish you all joy, Henry, I do, indeed--and I promise you I will +do all I can to help you through with it. I won't retaliate for your +thundering niggardness five years ago, when you would not even be my +best man, do you remember?" + +"This is quite different, my dear boy," Lord Fordyce assured him with +dignity. "You were going to do what I thought a most casual thing, just +for your own ends, but I--Michael--" and his cultivated voice vibrated +with feeling--"I love this woman as I never thought I should love +anything on God's earth." + +"Then here's to you!" said Mr. Arranstoun, and ringing the bell for the +waiter, ordered a pint of champagne to drink his friend's health. + +So they had started in the motor after breakfast next day and that night +slept at St. Malo--getting to Héronac without adventure the following +afternoon. + +When no telegram was awaiting Lord Fordyce at ---- where they +breakfasted, he remarked to Michael: + +"She does not mind your coming--or she would have wired--I wish I were +as indifferent about it--Michael--" and Henry stammered a +little--"you'll promise me as a friend--you will not look into her eyes +with your confounded blue ones and try to cut me out." + +For some reason this appeal touched something in Michael's heart, his +voice was full of cordiality and his blue bold eyes swam with kindly +affection as he answered: + +"I'm not a beast, Henry--and I don't want every woman I see--and anyone +you fancied would in any case be sacred to me," and he held out his +hand. "Give you my word as I told you before, I'll not only promise you +on my honor that I'll not cut in myself, but I'll do everything I can to +help you, old man," then he laughed to hide the seriousness of his +feeling--"even to lending Arranstoun for the honeymoon." + +So they grasped hands and sealed the bargain and got into the motor and +went on their way. + +The first view of Héronac had enchanted them both, it was indeed a +unique place. + +"What taste!" Henry had said. "Fancy a young woman knowing and seeing at +once the possibilities of such a place!" + +"It is as grim as Arranstoun and nearly as old," Michael exclaimed. "I +am glad we came." + +Sabine shrank back into Berthe's little kitchen and signalled to her not +to make known the hostess' presence--but to let the gentlemen drive over +the causeway bridge to the courtyard--where they would be told by +Nicholas that she was in the garden, and would probably be brought there +to her by Madame Imogen who would have welcomed them. + +Her firm will forced her to pull herself together and decide what to do +when they should come face to face. To be totally unconcerned was the +best thing--to look and act as though Michael Arranstoun were indeed a +perfect stranger introduced to her for the first time in her life. It +would take him some moments to be certain that she was Sabine--his +wife--and he would then not be likely to make a scene before Henry--and +when the moment for plain speaking came, she would sternly demand to be +set free. She had kept silence to Henry as to who her husband really +was--for no reason except that the whole subject disturbed her +greatly--the very mention of Michael's name or the thought of him always +filling her with wild and mixed emotions. She had schooled herself in +the years that had gone by since their parting, into absolutely +banishing his memory every time it recurred. She had a vague feeling +that she must be free of him, and safe before she could even pronounce +his name to Lord Fordyce, who naturally must know eventually. There was +an unaccountable and not understood fear in her--fear that in the +discussion which must arise if she spoke of who her husband was to +Henry, that something might transpire, or that she might hear something +which would reawaken certain emotions, and weaken her determination to +break the even empty bond with Michael. And now she had seen him again +with her mortal eyes, and she knew that she was trembling and tingling +with a mad sensation of she knew not what--hatred and revulsion she +hoped! but was only sure of one aspect of it--that of wild excitement. + +No one--not a single soul--neither Simone--Madame Imogen--nor Père +Anselme himself must be allowed to see that she recognized Michael--her +belief that her countrywomen were fine actresses should stand her in +good stead, and enable her to play this part of unconsciousness to +perfection. _She would_ conquer herself--and she stamped her little foot +there in the high turret bower in the garden where she had retired. Its +windows opened straight out to the sea and she often had tea there. +There would be no use in all her prayers for calm and poise if they +should desert her now in this great crisis of her life. She was bound to +Henry by her promised word, given of her own free will--and she meant to +keep it, and do everything in her power to make herself free. She was an +extremely honest person, honest even with herself, and she realized that +either her own weakness or indecision, or some other motive had forced +her to give a definite answer to Lord Fordyce--and that he was too fine +a character to be played with and tossed about because of her moods. She +had mastered every sign of emotion by the time Madame Imogen's +comfortable figure, accompanied by the two men, could be seen advancing +in the distance. She rose with the gracious smile of a hostess and held +out her hand--pleased surprise upon her face. + +"So you have come! but earlier than I thought," and she shook hands with +Henry, and then turned to his friend without the slightest +embarrassment, as Lord Fordyce spoke his name. + +"How do you do," she said politely. "You are both very welcome to +Héronac." + +Michael had merely seen a pretty outline of a young woman until they had +got quite close and she had raised her head and lifted the shadow of her +big garden sun-bonnet--and then he stiffened suddenly and grew very +pale. He was a little behind the other two, and they observed nothing, +but Sabine saw the change of color in his healthy handsome face, and the +look of surprise and incredulity and puzzle which grew in his blue eyes. + +"How do you do?" he murmured, and then pulled himself together and +looked at her hard. + +But she stood his scrutiny with perfect unconcern--even meeting his eye +with a blank, agreeable want of recognition; while she made some +ordinary remark about their journey. Then pointing to her basket: + +"See--I was picking flowers for my sitting-room and I did not expect you +for another hour--what a silent motor you must have that its noise did +not penetrate here!" + +Henry was so overcome with joy to see her, and that she should be so +gracious and sweet--he said all sorts of nice things and walked by her +side as they came down from the turret summer-house. She looked the +picture of a fresh June rose as she carried her basket full of August +flowers--phloxes and penstemons and a great bunch of late sweet peas. +And Michael felt almost that he was staggering a little as he followed +with Madame Imogen, the shock had been so great. + +Was it really Sabine--his wife!--or could she have a double in the +world. Maddening uncertainty was his portion. He must know, he must be +certain--and if she were his wife--what then? What did it mean? He +could not claim her--she was engaged to Henry, his friend--to whom he +had given his word of honor that he would help as much as he could. It +was no wonder that he answered Madame Imogen's prattle, crisp and +American and amusing though it was, quite at random--his whole attention +being upon the pair in front. + +Sabine also found that she was not hearing a word Henry said, but that +the wildest excitement which she had ever known was coursing through her +blood. At last she did catch that he was telling her that never had she +been more beautiful or had brighter eyes. + +"This place must suit you even better than Carlsbad," he said. + +She answered laughingly and led the way toward the gate and so across +the causeway and on into her own sitting-room where they would find tea. +She supposed afterwards that she had talked sensibly, but never had any +recollection of what she had said. + +The room was looking singularly beautiful with the wonderful coloring of +the splendid curtains, and the tapestry and dark wood. And it was a +homely place, too, with quantities of book-cases and comfortable chairs +for all its vast size. Michael thought there was a faint look of his own +room at Arranstoun--and he joined the two who had advanced to one of the +huge embrasures of the windows where the tea table was laid--here there +were velvet-covered window seats where one could lounge and gaze out at +the sea. + +"What an exquisite place!" he exclaimed. "It reminds me of Arranstoun, +does it not you, Henry?--although that is not near the sea." + +The color deepened in Sabine's cheeks--had she unconsciously made it +resemble that place? She did not know, and the suggestion struck her +with surprise. + +Michael had recognized her of course, she saw that, but he was a +gentleman and intended to play the game. That was an immense relief. She +could allow herself to look at him critically now--not with just the +cursory glance she had bestowed upon Henry's friend at first--for he had +turned and was talking to Madame Imogen whom Sabine had signed to pour +out the tea--she was not sure if her own hand might not have shaken a +little and it were wiser to take no risks. + +He was horribly good-looking--that jumped to the eye--and with a +careless, indifferent grace--five years had only matured and increased +his attractions. He had "it"--manifesting in every part of him and his +atmosphere! A magnetism, a hateful, odious power which she felt, and +fiercely resented. He had recovered completely from whatever shock he +had felt upon seeing her it would seem! for his face looked absolutely +unconcerned now and perfectly at ease. + +She called all her forces together and played the part of the radiant, +well-mannered hostess, being even extra sweet and charming to Henry, +who was in the seventh heaven in consequence. The dreaded introduction +of his too-fascinating friend at Héronac had passed off well and his +adored lady did not seem to be taking any notice of him. + +Michael did not seek by word or look to engage her in personal +conversation; if he had really been a stranger who did not even find his +hostess fair, he could not have been more casual or less impressed. And +all the while his pulses were bounding and he was growing more and more +filled with astonishment and emotion. + +At last a thought came. Why, of course! Henry had told her he was +coming, so she had expected the meeting and had had time to school +herself to act! But this straw was not long vouchsafed him, and then +stupefaction set in, for Henry chanced to say: + +"You must forgive me for not having time to write you my friend's name +in my postscript, the post was off that minute--you had to take him on +trust!" + +"I do not know that I even caught it just now!" Sabine returned archly. +"Mr. ----?" + +And Henry, engaged for a moment taking a second cup of tea from Madame +Imogen's fat hand, Michael answered for him, looking straight into her +eyes: + +"Michael Howard Arranstoun of Arranstoun over the border in +Scotland--like Gretna Green." + +"How romantic that sounds," Madame Imogen chimed in. "Why, it's a name +fit for a stage play I do think. A party of my friends visited that very +castle only last fall. Mrs. Howard dear, it's as well known as the +Trossachs to investigators of the antique!" + +"Wonderfully interesting!" Sabine remarked blandly--putting more sugar +in her tea--at which Michael's eyebrows raised themselves in a whimsical +way--back had rushed to him the recollection that on the only occasion +they had ever drunk tea together before, she had said that she liked +"lumps and lumps of it!" + +"You probably know England?" he hazarded politely. + +"Very little. I was once there for a month when I was a child; we went +to see Windermere and the Lakes." + +"You got no further north? That was a pity, our country is most +beautiful--but it is not too late--you may go there yet some day." + +"Who knows?" and she laughed gaily--she had to allow herself some +outlet, she felt she would otherwise have screamed. + +Michael looked away out to sea and he told himself he must not tease her +any more. She was astonishingly game--so astonishingly game that but for +the name "Howard" he could have almost believed that this young woman +was his Sabine's double--but he remembered now that she had said she was +going to call herself Mrs. Howard because otherwise she would not be +able to "have any fun!" + +He had never recollected it since, not even when Henry had told him the +lady of his heart was called Howard--obscured by his friend's assertion +that her husband was an American, he had not for an instant suspected +the least connection with himself. + +Until he could find out the meaning of all this comedy, he must not let +Henry have an idea that there was anything underneath; and then with a +pang of mortification and pain he remembered his promise to Henry--and +he clenched his hands in his coat pockets, he was indeed tied and bound. + +Sabine for her part felt she could bear the situation no longer; she +must be alone--so on the plea of letters to write, she dismissed them +with Madame Imogen to show them to their rooms in the other part of the +house which was connected to this, her two great turrets and middle +immense room, by a passage which went along from the turret which +contained her bedroom. + +"You won't mind, perhaps, dining at half past seven?" she said as she +paused at her door, "because our good Curé, Père Anselme is coming, and +he hates to sit up late." + +And with the corner of his eye, Michael saw that before he hurried after +him, Henry had bent and surreptitiously kissed his hostess' hand--and a +sudden blinding, unreasoning rage shook him as he stalked on to his +allotted apartment. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Sabine decided to be a little late for dinner--three minutes, just to +give the rest of the party time to be assembled in the big salon. She +was coming from the communicating passage to her part of the house when +Mr. Arranstoun came out of his room, and they were obliged to go down +the great staircase together. + +To see him suddenly in evening dress like this brought her wedding night +back so vividly to her, she with difficulty kept a gasp from her breath. +He was certainly the most splendidly good-looking creature, with his +blue eyes and dark hair and much fairer little moustache. + +"I am late!" she cried laughing, before he could speak a word. "Père +Anselme will scold me! Come along!" and she tripped forward with a +glance over her shoulder. + +Michael's eyes blazed--she was a truly bewitching morsel in her fresh +white frock with its bunch of crimson sweet peas stuck in the belt. + +"Your flowers should be stephanotis," he said, and that was all, as he +followed her down the stairs. + +"I cannot bear them," she retorted and shuddered a little. "I only care +for out-door, simple things like my sweet peas." + +He did not speak as they went along the gallery--this disconcerted +her--what did it mean? She had been prepared to fence with him, and keep +him in his place, she was ready to defend herself on all sides--and no +defence seemed necessary! A sudden cold feeling came over her as though +excitement had died down and she opened the salon door quickly and +advanced into the room. + +Michael had come to a determination while dressing--Henry had walked in +and smoked a cigarette with him before he began, and had then showed +plainly his joy and satisfaction. She--his worshiped lady--had never +before been so tender and gracious, and he was awfully happy because +things were going well. And what did his friend Michael think of his +choice? Was she not the sweetest woman in the world? + +Michael said he had seen better-looking ones, but admitted she had +charm. He was really suffering, the situation was so impossible and he +had not yet made up his mind what he ought to do--tell Henry straight +out that Sabine was his wife or what? If he did that he might be going +contrary to some plan of hers--for she evidently had no intention yet of +informing Lord Fordyce, or of giving the least indication that she +recognized him--Michael. It was the most grotesque puzzle and contained +an element of the tragic, too--for one of them. + +Henry's happiness and contentment touched him--his dear old friend!--he +felt extraordinarily upset. But when Lord Fordyce had gone he rapidly +reviewed matters and made up his mind. At all events, for the present, +he would be guided by what Sabine's attitude should be herself. He would +certainly see her alone on the following day and then she would most +likely broach the subject and they could agree what to do--for that +Henry must know some day was an incontestable fact. He, Michael, would +make some excuse and leave Héronac by the next evening, it was +impossible to go on playing such a part, and not fair to any one, least +of all to his friend. + +"I will give her to-night to declare her hand," he thought, as his +valet, no longer the dignified Johnson, handed him his coat, "and then +if she will not put the cards down--I must." + +But when he opened his door and saw her exquisite slender figure +tripping forward from the dark passage, a fierce pain gripped his heart, +and he said between his teeth: + +"My God! if it had not been too late!" + +The Dame d'Héronac was in wild spirits at dinner--and her cheeks burned +like glowing roses. Monsieur le Curé watched her with his wise, black +eye. + +"The child is not herself," he thought. "It is possible that this +Englishman may mean a great deal to her--but he is of the gentle type, +not of the sort one would believe to make strong passions--no--now if it +had been the other one--the friend--that one could have seen some light +through--a young man well able to fill the heart of any woman--a fine +young man, a splendid young man--but yes." + +Madame Imogen made no reflections, she was too delighted with their gay +repast, and helped with her jolly wit to keep the ball rolling. + +Henry felt slightly intoxicated with happiness--while in Michael, +passions of various sorts were rising, against his will. + +A devil was in Sabine--never had she been so alluring, so feminine, so +completely removed from her usual grave, indifferent self. + +She did not look at Michael once or vouchsafe him any conversation +beyond what cordial politeness compelled. It was to Père Anselme that +she almost made love, with shy sallies at Henry, and merry replies to +Madame Imogen. But her whole atmosphere was radiating with provoking +fascination--and as they all rose from table she took Lord Fordyce's +arm. + +"In England, I hear you men remain in the dining room to drink all sorts +of ports--but here in my France we expect you to be sociable and come +with us at once--you may smoke where you choose." + +Henry could not refrain from caressing with his other hand the little +cold one lying on his arm as they walked along--while he whispered with +passionate devotion: + +"My darling, darling girl!" + +"Hush!" she answered nervously. "Your friend will hear!" + +"And if he does! what matter, dearest--he knows that I love you, and +that as soon as you are free you are going to be my wife." + +There must have been a slight roughness in the carpet which slid upon +the slippery floor, for the Dame d'Héronac stumbled a little and then +gasped: + +"He--knows that----!" + +And by the time they all reached the salon, her rosy cheeks were pale, +while the pupils of her violet eyes were so large as to make them appear +to be black as night. + +The gay sprite of the dinner-table seemed to have taken her departure +and a dignified and serious hostess filled her place. A hostess who +discoursed of gardens, and architecture, and such subjects--and at ten +o'clock when the Père Anselme gave his blessing and wished the company +good-night, also gave a white hand to her guests, saying that Madame +Imogen would show them the small salon where they could smoke and have +their drinks before retiring to their rooms, then she bowed to them and +walked off slowly to her part of the house. + +When she had gone, Michael said a little hoarsely to Henry: + +"I have got the fiend of a headache, old man. I think I won't smoke, but +turn in at once." + +An hour or two later, when the whole château was wrapped in +darkness--the mistress of it crept from her bed-room to the great +sitting-room, and turning on the light, she unlocked a blue despatch-box +which stood beside her writing-table. From this she took a letter, +marked a little with former perusals--and she read it over once more +from beginning to end. + +It had + + Arranstoun Castle, + Scotland, + +stamped upon it in red and it bore a date in June, 1907. It had no +beginning and thus it ran: + + Since after everything I wake to find you have chosen to leave me + you can abide by your decision. I will not follow you or ever seek + to bring you back. It is useless to ask you if you meant that you + forgave me--because your going proves that you really have not--so + make what you please of your life as I shall make what I please of + mine. + + Michael Arranstoun. + +When she put the paper back again, glittering tears gathered and rolled +in shining drops down her cheeks. + +He had meant that last paragraph then, and he meant it now evidently, +since he knew that she was pledged to marry Henry when she should be +free, and had made no protest. Perhaps he was glad and intended to marry +Miss Daisy van der Horn! Her tears dried suddenly--and her cheeks +burned. She must think this situation out, and not just drift. It was +plain that Michael had been astonished to the point of stupefaction on +seeing her. He could not have known then that his friend wished to marry +her--Sabine--only that his friend wished to marry the lady they were +going to see. But he knew it afterwards, he knew it at dinner--and yet +he said never a word. What could it mean? What could be best to do? +Perhaps to see him alone in the morning and ask him to grant her freedom +and get the divorce as quickly as possible. She could count upon herself +not to betray the slightest feeling in the interview. If only that +strange turn of fate had not brought Lord Fordyce into her life, what +glorious pleasure she would now take in trying her uttermost to +fascinate and attract Michael--not that she desired him for +herself!--only to punish him for all the past! But she was not free. She +had given her word to Henry. The humiliation of feeling that Michael was +making no protest, and would apparently from this fact agree willingly +to divorce her, stung her pride and made her want to make him suffer and +regret in some way. If she could believe that it was paining him, she +would be glad--and if it appeared possible to keep up the pretence of +unrecognition for longer than to-morrow, she would certainly do so; it +was a frantic excitement in any case, and she adored difficult games. +Then as she put the letter back in her despatch-box, her hand touched a +large blue enamel locket, and with a shiver she hastily shut down the +lid, and as one fleeing from a ghost she ran back to bed. + +Michael meanwhile was pacing his room in deep and agitated thought. + +How supremely attractive she was! And to have to give her up to Henry; +it was too frightfully cruel. But he had absolutely no right to stand in +either of their lights. He had not even the right to undermine his +friend's influence by deed or look, since he had given him his word of +honor that he would not do so. What a blind fool he had been all those +years ago to let passionate rage at Sabine's daring to leave him make +him write her that letter. He would not have done it if he had not felt +such an intolerable brute--and glad to cut the whole thing by accepting +Latimer Berkeley's suggestion to join him for the China expedition at +once. The Berkeley letter coming that next morning was a stroke of fate. +If he had had a day to think about things, he would have followed his +impulse after the anger died down, and gone after her to Mr. Parsons' +London address, but he had already wired to Latimer and his resentful +blood was up. + +He remembered how he had not allowed himself to think of her--but had +concentrated his whole mind upon his sport. For it had been tremendous +sport and had interested him deeply, that journey to Tibet. And however +strong feelings may be at moments--absence and fresh interests dull +them. To banish her memory became a good deal easier as time went on, +and even the idea to divorce her if she wished did not seem too hard. + +But now he had seen her again--and every spell she had cast over him on +that June night was renewed ten-fold. She was everything he could +desire--she was beautiful and sweet and witty, with a charm which only +complete independence and indifference can ever give a woman in the eyes +of such a man as he. This he did not reason out--thinking himself a very +ordinary person--in fact, never thinking of himself at all or what his +temperament was affected by. He did not realize either that the very +fact of Sabine's being now out of his reach made her appear the one and +only thing he cared to possess. He knew nothing except that he felt +perfectly mad with fate--mad with himself for making an unconditional +promise to Henry, perfectly furious that he had been too stupid to +connect the name of Howard at once with his wife. + +And here he was sleeping in her castle--not she sleeping in his! And he +was conforming to her lead--not she following his. And the only thing +for a gentleman to do under the complicated circumstances was to +speedily divorce her according to the Scottish law and let her marry +his friend, Henry Fordyce--give them his blessing and lend them +Arranstoun for the honeymoon! + +When he got thus far in his meditations, he simply stood in the middle +of the room and cursed aloud. + +Never in his whole life had bolts or bars or circumstances been allowed +to keep him from his will. + +And then it did come to his shrewd mind that these things were not +circumstances, but were barriers forged _by himself_. + +"If I had not been such an awful brute--and the moment had not been--as +it was--I might have gradually made her love me and kept her always for +my own!" his thoughts ran. "Well--we were both too young then--and now I +must take the consequences and at least not be a swine to poor old +Henry." + +With superb irony, among his letters next morning which he had wired to +be forwarded to Héronac, there came one from his lawyer, informing him +that he had received a guarded communication from his wife's +representative, Mr. Parsons--with what practically amounted to a request +that he, Mr. Arranstoun, should begin to set the law in motion, to break +the bond between them--and his lawyer inquired what his wishes were upon +the subject and what should be the nature of their reply? + +To get this at Héronac--Sabine's house! He shook with fierce laughter in +his bed. + +Then his temper got up, and he came to a fresh determination. He would +break her pride--she should kneel if she wanted her freedom, she should +have it only if she asked him for it herself. He would not leave that +day after all! He would stay and play the comedy to its end. While she +would not recognize him, he would not recognize her. It was she who had +set the pace and the responsibility of not informing Henry lay at her +door. It was a damnably exciting game--far beyond polo or even slaying +long-haired tigers in Manchuria--and he would play it and bluff without +a card in his hand. + +He was not a noble hero, you see, but just a strong and passionate young +man--with "it"! + +The day was so gorgeous--Sabine woke with some kind of joyousness. She +was only twenty-two years old and supremely healthy; and however +complicated fate seemed to be, when nerves and appetite are perfect and +the sun is shining, it is really impossible to feel too gloomy. + +Her periwinkle cambric was a reflection of her eyes, and her brown hair +seemed filled with rays of gold as she stepped across the courtyard at +about ten o'clock on her way to the garden. Her guests would sleep +late--and at breakfast at twelve would be time enough to see them. + +But Michael caught sight of the top of a wide straw hat, and the flutter +of a bluish gown from his window, and did not hesitate for a second. +Henry, he knew, was only in his bath, while he himself was fully +dressed in immaculate white flannels. + +It did not take him five minutes to gain the courtyard, or to saunter +over the causeway bridge, and into the garden--he had brought the +English papers with him, which had been among his post. He would pretend +he had sought solitude and would be duly surprised and pleased to +encounter his hostess. That he had no business in her private garden at +all without her invitation did not trouble him, things like that never +blocked his way; he had always been too welcome anywhere for such an +aspect even to have presented itself to him. + +He played his part to perfection--reconnoitering as stealthily as when +he was stalking big game, until he perceived his quarry at the far end +among the lavender, giving orders to a gardener. He then turned in the +opposite direction, with great unconsciousness, to read the paper in +peace apparently being his only care! Here he paced the walk which cut +off her retreat from the gate, never glancing up. Sabine saw him of +course, and her heart began to beat--was it possible for a man to be so +good-looking or so utterly casual and devil-may-care! If she walked +toward the arbor turret he would be obliged to see her when she came to +the end, and then must come up and say good-morning. She picked up her +flower-basket and went that way, and with due surprise and pleasure, +Michael looked up from his paper at exactly the right moment and caught +sight of her. + +He came toward her with just the proper amount of haste and raised his +straw hat in a gay good-morning. + +"Isn't it a divine day," he said. "I had to come out and read the +papers--and the courtyard looked so dull and I did not know where else +to go--it is luck finding you here!" + +"I always come into the garden in the morning when it is fine--I know +every plant and they are all my friends." Then to hide the pleasurable +excitement she was feeling, she bent down and picked a bit of lavender. + +"I love that smell--won't you give me some, too?" he pleaded--and she +handed him a sprig which he fixed in his white coat. "You have made the +most enchanting place of this," he next told her. "Can't we go up and +sit in that summer-house while you tell me how you began? Henry said all +this was a ruin when you bought it some years ago--it is extraordinarily +clever of you." + +Not the slightest embarrassment was in his manner, not the smallest look +of extra meaning in his eyes; he was simply a guest and she a hostess, +out together in the sunlight. A sense of unreality stole over Sabine. It +could not be all true--it was just some dream--a little more vivid, that +was all, than those which used to come to her of him sometimes +during--that year. She almost felt that she would like to put out her +hand and touch him to see if he were tangible or a thing of illusion as +she led the way to the turret summer-house. + +The wall which protected the garden from the sea was very high and this +little tower had been in the original fortifications and had been +cleverly adapted to its present use. It was open, with glass which slid +back on the southern side, and its great windows looked out over the +blue waters and granite rocks on the other. The little bay curved round +so that from there you got a three-quarter view of the château. + +Sabine put her basket down, and climbing up the wooden step she seated +herself upon the high window-seat, her feet dangling while she opened +the casement wide. Michael stood beside her leaning upon the sill--so +that she was slightly above him. + +"What a glorious view!" he exclaimed; "it is certainly a perfect spot. +Why, it has everything! The sea and its waves to dash up at it--and then +this lovely garden for shelter and peace. What a fortunate young woman +you are!" + +"Yes, am I not?" + +"I have an old castle, too--perhaps Henry has told you about it. We have +owned it ever since Adam, I suppose!" and he laughed. "The grim part of +this is rather like it in a way; I mean the stone passages and huge +rooms--but of course the architecture is different. It has been the +scene of every sort of fight. I should like to show it to you some day." + +Stupefaction rose in Sabine's mind. After all, had she been mistaken, +and had he really not recognized her?--or had her acting of the night +before convinced him that his first ideas must be wrong and that she was +really not his wife! Excitement thrilled her. But if he was playing a +part, she then must certainly play, too, and not speak to him about the +divorce until he spoke to her. Thus they were unconsciously the one set +against the other and both determined that the other should show first +hand. It looked as though the interests of Lord Fordyce might be somehow +forgotten! + +They talked thus for half an hour, Michael asking questions about +Héronac with polite interest and without ever saying a sentence with a +double meaning, and she replying with frank information, and both +burning with excitement and zest. Then her great charm began to affect +him so profoundly that unconsciously something of eagerness and emotion +crept into his voice. It was one of those voices full of extraordinarily +attractive cadences at any time, and made for the seducing of a woman's +ear. Sabine knew that she was enjoying herself with a wild kind of +forbidden joy--but she did not analyze its cause. It could not be mean +to Henry just to talk about Héronac when she was not by word or look +deliberately trying to fascinate his friend--she was only being +naturally polite and casual. + +"Arranstoun only wants the sea," Michael said at last, "and then it +would be as perfect as this. I have a big, old sitting-room, too, that +was once part of a great hall, and my bedroom is the other half--a suite +all to myself--but I have not been there for five years--I am going back +from here." + +"How strange to be away from your home for so long," Sabine remarked +innocently. "Where have you been?" + +Then he told her all about China and Tibet. + +"I had taken some kind of distaste for Arranstoun and shirked going +there--I shall have to face it now, I suppose, because it is such hard +luck on the people when an owner is away, and so one must come up to the +scratch." + +"Yes," she agreed, "one must always do that." + +"I used to think out a lot of things when I was in the wilds--and I grew +to know that one is a great fool when young--and a great brute." + +She began to pull her lavender to pieces--this conversation was growing +too dangerously fascinating and must be stopped at once. + +"It is getting nearly breakfast-time," she said gaily, "and I just want +to pick a big bunch of sweet peas before the sun gets on them, won't you +help me?--and then we will go in." + +She slid to the floor before he could put out a hand to assist her, and +with her swift, graceful movements led the way to the tall sticks where +the last of the summer sweet peas grew. + +Here she handed him the basket and told him to work hard--and all the +while she chattered of the ways of these flowers, and the trouble she +had had to make them grow there, and would not once let the conversation +upon this subject flag. + +"Some day when I live in England, I suppose I can have a lovely garden +there--it is famous for gardens, isn't it? I take in _Country Life_ and +try to learn from it." + +"Yes," he answered, and grew stiff. The sudden picture of her living in +England--with Henry--came to him as an ugly shock. + +"Before you settle down in England, I would like you to see +Arranstoun,--please promise me to come and stay there before you do? I +will have a party whenever you like. I would love to show it to +you--every part of it--especially the chapel--it is full of wonderful +things!" + +If she chose to give him reminders of aspects which hurt, he would do +the same! + +"It sounds most interesting," she agreed, but had not the courage to +make any remarks about the chapel or ask what it contained. + +The clock over the gateway struck twelve--and she laughingly started to +walk very fast toward the house. + +"Madame Imogen and Lord Fordyce will be ravenous--come, let us go +quickly--I can even run!" + +So they strode on together with the radiant faces of those exalted by +an exciting game, on the way passing Père Anselme. + +And in the cool tapestried antechamber of the _salle-à-manger_, they +found Henry looking from the window a little wistfully, and a pang of +self-reproach struck both their hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +All through breakfast, Sabine devoted herself sedulously to Lord +Fordyce--and this produced two results. It sent Henry into a seventh +heaven and caused Michael to burn with jealous rage. Primitive instincts +were a good deal taking possession of him--and he found it extremely +difficult to keep up his rôle of disinterested friend. It must be +admitted he was in really a very difficult position for any man, and it +is not very easy to decide what he ought to have done short of telling +Henry the truth at once--but this he found grew every moment more hard +to do. It would mean that he would have to leave Héronac immediately. In +any case, he must do this directly. Sabine admitted, even to him, that +she was his wife. They could not together agree to leave Henry in +ignorance, that would be deliberately deceiving, and would make them +both feel too mean. But while nothing was even tacitly confessed, there +seemed some straw for his honor to grasp; he clutched at it knowing its +flimsy nature. He had given himself until the next day and now refused +to look beyond that. Every moment Sabine was attracting him more +deeply--and bringing certain memories more vividly before him with +maddening tantalization. + +But did she love Henry? Of that he could not be sure. If she did, he +certainly must divorce her at once. If she did not--why was she wishing +to marry him? Henry was an awfully good fellow, far better than he--but +after all, she was his wife--even though he had forfeited all right to +call her so, and if she did not love Henry, no friendship toward him +ought to be allowed to stand in the way of their reunion. It is +astonishing how civilization controls nature! If we put as much force +into the controlling of our own thoughts as we put into acting up to a +standard of public behavior, what wonderful creatures we should become! + +Here were these two human beings--young and strong and full of passion, +playing each a part with an art as great as any displayed at the Comédie +Française! And all for reasons suggested by civilization!--when nature +would have solved the difficulty in the twinkling of an eye! + +Michael spent a breakfast hour in purgatory. It was plain to be seen +that Henry expected him to show some desire to go fishing, or to want +some other sport which required solitude, or only the company of Madame +Imogen--and his afternoon looked as if it were not going to be a thing +of joy. The result of civilization then made him say: + +"May I take out that boat I saw in the little harbor after breakfast, +Mrs. Howard? I must have some real exercise. Two days in a motor is too +much." + +And his hostess graciously accorded him a permission, while her heart +sank--at least she experienced that unpleasant physical sensation of +heaviness somewhere in the diaphragm which poets have christened +heart-sinking! She knew it was quite the right thing for him to have +done,--and yet she wished fervently that they could have spent another +hour like the one in the turret summer-house. + +Henry was radiant--and as Michael went off through the postern and down +to the little harbor where the boats lay, he asked in fine language what +were his beloved's wishes for the afternoon? + +Sabine felt pettish, she wanted to snap out that she did not care a +single sou what they did, but she controlled herself and answered +sweetly that she would take him all over the château and ask his opinion +and advice about some further improvements she meant to make. + +They strolled first to the crenellated wall of the courtyard along which +there was a high walk from which you looked down upon the boat-house and +the little jetty--this wall made the fourth side of the courtyard, and +with the gate tower, and the concierge's tower across the causeway, and +part of the garden elevation, was the very oldest of the whole château, +and dated from early feudal times. + +They leaned upon the stone and looked down at the sea. + +"There are only a very few days in the year that Minne-ha-ha ever comes +out of her shed," Sabine told him, pointing to the boat-house. "You +cannot imagine what the wind is here--even now it may get up in a few +moments on this glassy sea, or thunder may come--and in the autumn the +storms are too glorious. I sit at one of the big windows in my +sitting-room and watch the waves for hours; they break on the rocks +which stretch out from the tower, which is my bedroom on the Finisterre +side, and they rise mountain-high; it is a most splendid sight. We are, +as it were, in the midst of a cauldron of boiling foam. It exalts and +vitalizes me more than I can tell you. I wish it had been the autumn +now." + +"I don't," he said. "I much prefer the summer and peace. I want to take +away all that desire for fierce things, dearest--they were the echoes of +those dark thoughts and shadows which used to be in your eyes at +Carlsbad." + +"Ah, if you could!" she sighed. + +It was the first time he had ever seen her moved--and it distressed him. + +"Do you not think that I can, then?" he asked, tenderly. "It is the only +thing I really want in life--to make you happy." + +"How good you are, Henry!" she cried; "so noble and unselfish and true; +you frighten me. I am just a creature of earth--full of things you may +not like when you know me better. I am sure I think of myself more than +any one else--you make me--ashamed." + +He took her hand and kissed it, while his fine gray eyes melted in +worship. + +"I will not even listen when you say such things--for me you are +perfect--a pearl of great price." + +"I must try to be, but I am not," and her voice trembled a little. "I +believe I am as full of faults and life as your friend there--Mr. +Arranstoun, who I am sure is just a selfish, reckless man!" + +Michael at this moment reached the boat-house with old Berthe's son, who +began to help him to untie the one he wanted. He looked the most +splendid creature there in his white flannels--and he turned and waved +to them and then got in and pulled out a few yards with long, easy +strokes. + +"Michael is a character," his friend said. "He has been spoilt all his +life by women--and fortune. He has a most strange story. He married a +girl about five years ago just to make himself safe from another woman +whom he had been making love to. I was awfully angry with him at the +time--I was staying in the house and I refused to wait for the wedding. +I thought it such a shame to the girl, although it was merely an empty +ceremony--but she was awfully young, I believe." + +"How interesting!" and Sabine's voice was strained. "You saw the +girl--what was she like?" + +"No, I never saw her--it was all settled one afternoon when I was +out--and I thought it such a thundering shame that I left that same +night." + +"And if you had stayed--you would have met her--how curious fate is +sometimes--isn't it? Perhaps you could have prevented your friend being +so foolish--if you had stayed." + +"No, nothing in the world would ever prevent Michael from doing what he +wanted to--it is in the blood of all those old border families--heredity +again--they flourished by imposing their wills recklessly and snatching +and fighting, and who ever survived was a strong man. It has come down +to them in force and vigor and daring unto this day." + +"But what happened about the marriage?" Sabine asked. "It interests me +so much; it sounds so romantic at this matter-of-fact time." + +"Nothing happened, except that they went through the ceremony and the +girl left at once that same night, I believe, and Michael has never seen +or heard of her since--he tells me the time is up now when he can +divorce her for desertion, according to Scotch law--and I fancy he will. +It is a ridiculous position for them both. He does not even know if she +has not preferred some one else by now." + +"Surely she would have given some sign if she had--but perhaps he does +not care." + +"Not much. I fancy he amused himself a good deal at Ostende--" and +Henry smiled. "He has been away in the wilds for five years and +naturally has come back full of zest for civilization." + +Sabine's full lips curled, and she looked at the sea again, and the +figure in the boat rapidly pulling away from the shore. + +"If he chose to leave her alone all these years, he could not expect +anything else, could he, than that she would have grown to care for +another man." + +"No, that is what I told him--and he said he was a dog in the manger." + +"He did not want her himself, and yet did not wish to give her to any +one else--how disgustingly selfish!" + +"Men are proverbially selfish," and Henry smiled again; "it is the +nature of the creatures." + +The violet eyes were glowing as stars might glow could they be +angry--and their owner turned away from the sea with a fine shrug of her +shoulders--her thoughts were raging. So that is how Michael looked upon +the _affaire_! He was just the dog in the manger, and she was the hay! +But never, never would she submit to that! She would speak to him when +he came in and ask him to divorce her at once. Why should Henry ever +know?--even if Scotch divorces were reported she would appear, not as +Mrs. Howard, but as Mrs. Arranstoun,--then a discouraging thought +came--only Sabine was such an uncommon name--if it were not for that he +might never guess. But whether Henry ever knew or did not know, the +sooner she were free the better, and then she would marry him and adorn +his great position in the world--and Michael would see her there, and +how well she fulfilled her duties--so even yet she would be able to +punish him as he deserved! Hay! Indeed! Never, never, never! + +Then she knew she must have been answering at random some of Lord +Fordyce's remarks, for a rather puzzled look was on his face. + +A strong revulsion of feeling came to her. Henry suddenly appeared in +his best guise--and a wave of tenderness for him swept over her. How +kind and courteous and devoted he was--treating her always as his queen. +She could be sure of homage here--and that far from being hay; she would +be the most valued jewel in his crown of success. She would rise into +spheres where she would be above the paltry emotions caused by a hateful +man just because he had "it"! + +So she gave her hand to Henry in a burst of exuberance and let him place +it in his arm, and then lead her back into the château and through all +the rooms, where they discussed blues and greens and stuffs and +furniture and the lowering of this doorway and the heightening of that, +and at last they drifted to the garden and to the lavender hedge--but +she would not take him into the summer-house or again look out on the +sea. + +All through her sweetness there was a note of unrest--and Henry's fine +senses told him so--and this left the one drop of bitterness in his +otherwise blissful cup. + +Michael meanwhile was expending his energy and his passion in swift +movement in the boat--but after a while he rested on his oars and then +he began to think. + +There was no use in going on with the game after all--he ought to go +away at once. If he stayed and saw her any more he would not be able to +leave her at all. He knew he would only break his promise to Henry--tell +Sabine that he had fallen madly in love with her--implore her again to +forgive him for everything in the past and let them begin afresh. But he +was faced with the horrible thought of the anguish to Henry--Henry, his +old friend, who trusted him and who was ten times more worthy of this +dear woman than he was himself. + +He had never been so full of impotency and misery in his life--not even +on that morning in June when he woke and found Sabine had left +him--defied him and gone--after everything. Pure rage had come to his +aid then--but now he had only remorse and longing--and anger with fate. + +"It must all depend upon whether or no she loves Henry," he said to +himself at last--"and this I will make her tell me this very afternoon." + +But when he got back and went into the garden he happened to witness a +scene. + +Sabine--overcome by Lord Fordyce's goodness, had let him hold her arm +while her head was perilously near to his shoulder. It all looked very +intimate and lover-like when seen from afar. The greatest pain Michael +Arranstoun had ever experienced came into his heart, and without waiting +a second he turned on his heel and went back to the house. Here he had a +bath and changed his clothes, while his servant packed, and then, with +the help of Madame Imogen, he looked up a train. Yes, there was a fast +one which went to Paris from their nearest little town--he could just +catch it by ordering Henry's motor--this he promptly did--and leaving +the best excuses he could invent with Madame Imogen, he got in and +departed a few minutes before his hostess and Lord Fordyce came back to +tea at five. + +He had written a short note to Sabine--which Nicholas handed to her. + +She opened it with trembling fingers; this was all it was: + + I understand--and I will get the divorce as soon as the law will + allow, and I will try to arrange that Henry need never know. I + would like you just to have come to Arranstoun once more--perhaps I + can persuade Henry to bring you there in the autumn. + + Michael Arranstoun. + +It was as well that Lord Fordyce had gone up to his room--for the lady +of Héronac grew white as death for a moment, and then crumpling the note +in her hand she staggered up the old stone stairs to her great +sitting-room. + +So he had gone then--and they could have no explanation. But he had +come out of the manger--and was going to let the other animal eat the +hay. + +This, however, was very poor comfort and brought no consolation on its +wings. Civilization again won the game. + +For she had to listen unconcernedly to Madame Imogen's voluble +description of Michael's leaving--pressing business which he had +mistaken the date about--finally she had to pour out tea and smile +happily at Henry and Père Anselme. + +But when she was at last alone, she flung herself down by the window +seat and shook all over with sobs. + +Michael's note to Henry was characteristic: + + I'm bored, my dear Henry--the picture of your bliss is not + inspiriting--so I am off to Paris and thence home. I hope you'll + think I behaved all right and played the game. + + Took your motor to catch train. + + Yrs., + M.A. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The Père Anselme was uneasy. Very little escaped his observation, and he +saw at tea that his much loved Dame d'Héronac was not herself. She had +not been herself the night before at dinner either--there was more in +the coming of these two Englishmen than met the eye. He had seen her +with Michael in the morning in the summer-house from a corner of the +garden, too, where he was having a heated argument with the gardener in +chief, as well as when he met them on the causeway bridge. He felt it +his duty to do something to smooth matters, but what he could not +decide. Perhaps she would tell him about it on the morrow, when he met +her as was his custom on days that were not saints' days interfered with +by mass. + +"I shall be at the gate at nine o'clock, _ma fille_," he said, when he +wished her good-day. "With your permission, we must decide about the +clematis trellis for the north wall without delay." + +Henry accompanied the old man on his walk back to the village--and they +conversed in cultivated and stilted French of philosophy and of Breton +fisher-folk, and of the strange, melancholy type they seemed to have. + +"They look ever out to sea," the priest said; "they are watching the +deep waters and are conscious forever of their own and loved ones' +dangers--they are _de braves gens_." + +"It seems so wonderful that anything so young and full of life as Mrs. +Howard should have been drawn to live in such an isolated place, does it +not, _mon père_?" Henry asked. "It seems incongruous." + +"When she came first she was very sad. She had cause for much sorrow, +the dear child--and the sea was her mate; together she and I, with the +sea, have studied many things. She deserves happiness, Monsieur, her +soul is as pure and as generous as an angel's--if Monsieur knew what she +does for my poor people and for all who come under her care!" + +"It will be the endeavor of my life to make her happy, Father," and Lord +Fordyce's voice was full of feeling. + +"Happiness can only be secured in two ways, my son. Either it comes in +the guise of peace, after the flames have burnt themselves out--or it +comes through fusion of love at fever heat----" + +"Yes?" Henry faltered, rather anxiously. + +"When there are still some cinders alight--the peaceful happiness is not +quite certain of fulfilment; it becomes an experiment then with some +risks." + +"What makes you say this to me?" + +The old priest did not look at him, but continued to gaze ahead. + +"I have the welfare of our Dame d'Héronac very strongly at heart, +Monsieur, as you can guess, and I am not altogether sure that the +cinders are not still red. It would be well for you to ascertain whether +this be so or not before you ask her to make fresh bonds." + +"You think she still cares for her husband, then?" Henry was very pale. + +"I do not know that she ever cared--but I do know that even his memory +has power to disturb her. He must have been just such another as your +friend, the Seigneur of Arranstoun. It is his presence which has +reminded her of something of the past, since it cannot be he himself." + +"No, of course it cannot be Michael--" and Henry laughed shortly. "He is +an Englishman. She had never seen him before yesterday--You think she +seems disturbed?" + +"Yes." + +"What would you have me do, then, Father? I love this woman more than my +life and only desire her happiness." + +The Curé of Héronac shrugged his high shoulders slightly. + +"It is not for me to give advice to a man of the world--but had it been +in the days when I was Gaston d'Héronac, of the Imperial Guard, I should +have told you--Use your intelligence, search, investigate for yourself. +Make her love you--leave nothing vague or to chance. As a priest, I must +say that I find all divorces wrong--and that for me she should remain +the wife of the other man." + +"Even when the man is a drunkard or a lunatic, and there have been no +children?" Henry demanded. + +A strange look came in the old Curé's eye as he glanced at his companion +covertly, and for a second it seemed as though he meant to speak his +thought--but the only words which came were in Latin: + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," and then +he held out his thin, brown hand; they had reached his door. + +"In all cases you have my good wishes, my son, for you seem worthy of +her--my good wishes and my prayers." + +Lord Fordyce mounted the stairs to his lady's sitting-room with lagging +steps. The Père Anselme's advice had caused him to think deeply, and it +was necessary that he had speech with Sabine, if she would let him come +back into her sitting-room. He knocked at the door softly, as was his +way, and when her voice said "_Entrez_" rather impatiently he did enter +and advance with diffidence. She was sitting with her back to the light +in one of the great window embrasures, so that he could not see the +expression upon her face--and her tone became gentle as she welcomed +him. + +"The evening is so glorious, come and watch the sunset; but there is a +little look of thunder there in the far west--to-morrow we may have a +storm." + +Henry sat down beside her on the orange velvet seat--and his eyes, full +of love and tenderness, sought her face beseechingly. + +"I shall simply hate going the day after to-morrow, dearest," he said. +"If it were not for the sternest duty to my mother, I would ask you to +keep me until Friday--it will be such pain to tear myself away." + +"You have been dear," she answered very low. "You have shown me what +real love in a man means--what tenderness and courtesy can make of life. +Henry--however wayward I may be, you will bear with me, will you not? I +want to be good and happy--" Her sweet voice, with its faintly French +accent, was full of pathos as a child's might be who is asking for +comfort and sympathy for some threatened hurt. "Oh! I want to be in the +sure shelter of your love always, so that storms like that one coming up +over there cannot touch me. I want you to make me forget--everything." + +He was so deeply moved, tears sprang to his eyes--as he bent and kissed +her hands with reverence. + +"My darling--you shall indeed be worshipped and protected and kept from +all clouds--only first tell me, Sabine, straight from your heart, do +you really and truly desire to marry me? I do not ask you to tell me +that you love me yet, because I know that you do not--but I want to know +the truth. If you have a single doubt whether it is for your happiness, +tell it to me--let there be no uncertainties between us--my dear +love----" + +She was silent for a moment, while his tenderness seemed to be pouring +balm upon her troubled spirit. + +"My God!" he cried, fearing her silence. "Sabine, speak to me--I will +not hold you for a second if you would rather be free--if you think I +cannot chase all sad memories away." + +She put out her hand and touched his arm. + +"If you will be content to take me, knowing that I have things to +forget--and if you will help me to forget them, then I know that I want +to marry you, Henry--just as to-night perhaps that little sail we see +out there will long to get in to a safe port." + +He gave her his promise--with passionately loving words, that he would +protect and adore her always, and soothe and cherish her until all +haunting memories were gone. + +And for the first time since they had known one another, Sabine let him +fold her in his arms. + +But the lips which he pressed so fondly were cold, like death--and +afterwards she went quickly to her room. + +The die was irrevocably cast--she could never go back now; she was as +firmly bound to Henry as if she had been already his wife. + +For her nature was tender and honest and true--and Lord Fordyce had +touched the highest chord in it, the chord of her soul. + +But, as she stood looking from the narrow, deep casement up at the +evening sky, suddenly, with terrible vividness, there came back to her +mental vision the chapel at Arranstoun upon her wedding night, with its +gorgeous splendors and the candles and the lilies and their strong +scent, and it was as if she could feel Michael's kiss when the old +clergyman's words were done. + +She started forward with a little moan, and put her hands over her eyes. +Then her will reasserted itself, and her firm lips closed tight. + +Nothing should make her waver or alter her mind now--and these +phantasies should be ruthlessly stamped out. + +She sat down in an armchair, and forced herself to picture her life with +Henry. It would be full of such great and interesting things, and he +would be there to guide and protect her always and keep her from all +regrets. + +So presently she grew calm and comforted, and by the time she was +dressed for dinner, she was even bright and gay, and made a most sweet +and gracious mistress of Héronac and of the heart of Henry Fordyce. +Just as they were leaving the dining-room, Nicholas brought her a +message from Père Anselme, to the effect that a very bad storm was +coming up, and she must be sure to have the great iron shutters inside +the lower dungeon windows securely closed. He had already told Berthe's +son to take in the little boat. + +And as they crossed the connecting passage, Madame Imogen gave a scream, +for a vivid flash of lightning came in through the open +windows--followed by a terrific crash of thunder, and when they reached +the sitting-room the storm had indeed come. + +It was past midnight when Michael reached Paris, and, going in to the +Ritz, met Miss Daisy Van der Horn and a number of other friends just +leaving after a merry dinner in a private room. They greeted him with +fervor. Where had he been? And would not he dress quickly and come on to +supper with them? + +"Why, you look as glum as an owl, Michael Arranstoun!" Miss Van der Horn +herself informed him. "Just you hustle and put on your evening things, +and we'll make you feel a new man." + +And with the most supreme insolence, before them all he bent down and +kissed both her hands--while his blue eyes blazed with devilment as he +answered: + +"I will join you in half an hour--but if you pull me out of bed like +this, you will have to make a night of it with me. You shan't go home at +all!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A whole month went by, and after the storm peace seemed to cover +Héronac. Sabine gardened with Père Anselme, and listened to his kindly, +shrewd common sense, and then they read poetry in the afternoons when +tea was over. They read Béranger, François Villon, Victor Hugo, and +every now and then they even dashed into de Musset! + +The good Father felt more easy in his mind. After all, his impressions +of Lord Fordyce's character had been very high, and he was not apt to +make mistakes in people--perhaps le bon Dieu meant to make an exception +in favor of the beloved Dame d'Héronac, and to find divorce a good +thing! Sabine had heard from Mr. Parsons that the negotiations had +commenced. It would be some time, though, before she could be free. She +must formally refuse to return when the demand asking her to do so +should come. This she was prepared to carry out. She firmly and +determinedly banished all thought of Michael from her mind, and hardly +ever went into the garden summer-house--because, when she did, she saw +him too plainly standing there in his white flannels, with the sprig of +her lavender in his coat and his bold blue eyes looking up at her with +their horribly powerful charm. The force of will can do such wonders +that, as the days went on, the pain and unrest of her hours lessened in +a great degree. + +Every morning there came an adoring letter from Henry, in which he never +said too much or too little, but everything that could excite her +cultivated intelligence and refresh her soul. In all the after years of +her life, whatever might befall her, these letters of Henry's would have +a lasting influence upon her. They polished and moulded her taste; and +put her on her mettle to answer them, and gradually they grew to be an +absorbing interest. He selected the books she was to read, and sent her +boxes of them. It had been agreed before he left that he would not +return to Héronac for some time; but that in late October, when the +Princess and Mr. Cloudwater got back to Paris, that if they could be +persuaded to come to London, Sabine would accompany them, and make the +acquaintance of Henry's mother and some of his family--who would be in +ignorance of there being any tie between them, and the whole thing could +be done casually and with good sense. + +"I want my mother and my sisters to love you, darling," Henry wrote, +"without a prejudiced eye. My mother would find you perfect, whatever +you were like, if she knew that you were my choice--and for the same +reason my sisters would perhaps find fault with you; so I want you to +make their conquest without any handicap." + +Sabine, writing one of her long letters to Moravia in Italy, said: + + I am very happy, Morri. This calm Englishman is teaching me such a + number of new aspects of life, and making me more determined than + ever to be a very great lady in the future. We are so clever in our + nation, and all the young vitality in us is so splendid, when it is + directed and does not turn to nerves and fads. I am growing so much + _finer_, my dear, under his guidance. You will know me when we + meet--because each day I grow more to understand. + +The Père Anselme had only one moment of doubt again, just the last +morning before his Dame d'Héronac left for Paris when October had come. +It was raining hard, and he found her in the great sitting-room with a +legal-looking document in her hand. Her face was very pale, and lying on +the writing-table beside her was an envelope directed and stamped. + +It contained her refusal to return to her husband signed and sealed. + +The old priest did not ask her any questions; he guessed, and +sympathized. + +But his lady was too restless to begin their reading, and stole from +window to window looking out on the gray sea. + +"I shall come here for six months in the year just as always, Father," +she said at last. "I can never sever myself from Héronac." + +"God forbid," exclaimed the priest, aghast. "If you left us, the sun no +more would seem to shine." + +"And sometimes I will come--alone--because there will be times, my +Father, when I shall want to fight things out--alone." + +The Père Anselme took some steps nearer her, and after a moment said, in +a grave voice: + +"Remember always, my daughter, that le bon Dieu settles things for us +mortals if we leave it all to Him--but if we take the helm in the +direction of our own affairs, it may be He will let circumstance draw us +into rough waters. In that case, the only thing for us is to be true to +our word and to our own souls--and to use common sense." + +Sabine looked at him with somber, startled eyes. + +"You mean, that I decided to help myself, Father--about the divorce--and +that now I must look only to myself--It is a terrible thought." + +"You are strong, my child; it may be that you were directed from above, +I cannot say," and he shrugged his shoulders gently. "Only that the good +God is always merciful. What you must be is true to yourself. _Pax +vobiscum_," and he placed his hand upon her head. + +But, for once, Sabine lost control of her emotions and, bursting into a +passion of tears, she rushed from the room. + +"Alas! all is well?" said the priest, half aloud, and then he knelt by +the window and prayed fervently--without telling his beads. + +But, at breakfast, Sabine's eyes were dry again, and she seemed quite +calm. She, too, had held communion with herself, and her will had once +more resumed the mastery. This should be the last exhibition of +weakness--and the last feeling of weakness; and as she would suppress +the outward signs, so she would crush the inner emotion. All life looked +smiling. She was young, healthy and rich. She had inspired the devoted +love of a good and great man, whose position would give scope for her +ambitions, whose intellect was a source of pleasure and joy to her, and +whose tenderness would smooth all her path. What right had she to have +even a crumpled rose leaf! None in the world. + +She must get accustomed even to hearing of Michael, and perhaps to +meeting him again face to face, since Henry was never to know--or, at +least, not for years perhaps, when she had been so long happily married +that the knowledge would create no jar. And at all events, he need not +know--of the afterwards--that should remain forever locked in her heart. +Then she resolutely turned to lighter thoughts--her clothes in Paris, +the pleasure to see Moravia again--the excitement of her trip to +London, where she had never been, except to pass through that once long +ago. + +The Père Anselme came to the station with her, and as he closed the door +of the reserved carriage she was in, he said: + +"Blessings be upon your head, my child. And, whatever comes, may the +good God direct you into peace." + +Then he turned upon his heel, his black eyes dim--for the autumn months +would be long with only Madame Imogen for companion, beside his +flock--and the sea. + +Michael had got back from Paris utterly disgusted with life, sick with +himself. Bitterly resentful against fate for creating such a tangled +skein, and dangling happiness in front of him only to snatch it away +again. He went up to Arranstoun and tried to play his part in the +rejoicings at his return. He opened the house, engaged a full staff of +servants, and filled it with guests. He shot with frantic eagerness for +one week, and then with indifference the next. Whatever he may have done +wrong in his life, his punishment had come. He had naturally an iron +will, and when he began to use it to calm his emotions, a better state +of things might set in, but for the time being he was just drifting, and +sorrow was his friend. + +His suite at Arranstoun--which he had never seen since the day after his +wedding, having gone up to London that very next night, and from there +made all his arrangements for the China trip--gave him a shock--he who +had nerves of steel--and into the chapel he loathed to go. His one +consolation was that Binko, now seven years old, had not transferred his +affection to Alexander Armstrong, with whom he had spent the time; but +after an hour or two had rapturously appeared to remember his master, +and now never, if he could help it, left his side. + +Michael took to reading books--no habit of his youth!--although his +shrewd mind had not left him in the usual plight of blank ignorance, +which is often the portion of a splendid, young athlete leaving Eton! +But now he studied subjects seriously, and the whys and wherefores of +things; and he grew rather to enjoy the evenings alone, between the +goings and comings of his parties, when, buried in a huge chair before +his log fire, with only Binko's snorts for company, he could pore over +some volume of interest. He studied his family records, too, getting all +sorts of interesting documents out of his muniment room. + +What a fierce, brutal lot they had always been! No wonder the chapel had +to be so gloriously filled--and then there came to his memory the one +little window which was still plain, and how he had told Sabine that he +supposed it had been left for him to garnish--as an expiatory +offering--the race being so full of rapine and sin! + +Should he put the gorgeous glass in now--it was time. But a glass +window could not prevent the punishment--since it had already fallen +upon him, nor even alleviate the suffering. + +He was staring straight in front of him at the picture of Mary, Queen of +Scots', landing--it had been painted at about 1850, when romantic +subjects of that sort were in vogue, and "the fellow in the blue +doublet" was said, by the artist, to represent the celebrated Arranstoun +of that time. The one who had killed a Moreton and stolen his wife. No +doubt that is why his grandfather had bought it. He thought it looked +very well over the secret door, and then he deliberately let himself +picture how it had once fallen forward, and all the circumstances which +had followed in consequence. He reconstructed every word he could +remember of his and Sabine's conversation that afternoon. He repictured +her innocent baby face--and from there on to the night of the wedding. +He reviewed all his emotions in the chapel, and the strange exaltation +which was upon him then--and the mad fire which awoke in his blood with +his first kiss or of her fresh young lips when the vows were said. Every +minute incident was burned into his memory until the cutting of the +cake--after that it seemed to be a chaos of wild passion, and moments of +extraordinary bliss. He suddenly could almost see her little head there +unresisting on his breast, all tears and terror at last hushed to rest +by his fond caresses--and then he started from his seat--the memory was +too terribly sweet. + +He had, of course, been the most frightful brute. Nothing could alter or +redeem that fact; but when sleep came to them at length he had believed +that he had made her forgive him, and that he could teach her to love +him and have no regrets. Then the agony to wake and find her gone! + +What made her go after all? How had she slipped from his arms without +awakening him? If he had only heard her when she was stealing from the +room, he could have reasoned with her, and even have again caught her +and kissed her into obedience--but he had slept on. + +He remembered all his emotions--rage at her daring to cross his will to +begin with, and then the deep wound to his self-love. That is what had +made him write the hard letter which forever put an end to their +reunion. + +"What a paltry, miserable, arrogant wretch I was then," he thought--"and +how pitifully uncontrolled." + +But all was now too late. + +The next morning's post brought him a letter from Henry Fordyce, in +which he told him he had been meaning to write to him ever since he had +returned from France more than a month ago, but had been too occupied. +The whole epistle breathed ecstatic happiness. He was utterly absorbed +in his lady love, it was plain to be seen, and since his mind seemed so +peaceful and joyous, it was evident she must reciprocate. Well, Henry +was worthy of her--but this in no way healed the hurt. Michael violently +tore up the letter and bounded from his bed, passion boiling in him +again. He wanted to slay something; he almost wished his friend had been +an enemy that he could have gone out and fought with him and reseized +his bride. What matter that she should be unwilling--the Arranstoun +brides had often been unwilling. She had been unwilling before, and he +had crushed her resistance, and even made her eventually show him some +acquiescence and content. He could certainly do it again, and with more +chance of success, since she was a woman now and not a child, and would +better understand emotions of love. + +He stood there shaking with passion. What should he do? What step should +he take? Then Binko, who had emerged from his basket, gave a tiny +half-bark--he wanted to express his sympathy and excitement. If his +beloved master was transported with rage, it was evidently the moment +for him to show some feeling also, and to go and seize by the throat man +or beast who had caused this tumult. + +His round, faithful, adoring eyes were upturned, and every fat wrinkle +quivered with love and readiness to obey the smallest command, while he +snorted and slobbered with emotion. Something about him touched Michael, +and made him stoop and seize him in his arms and roll the solid mass on +the bed in rough, loving appreciation. + +"You understand, old man!" he cried fondly. "You'd go for Henry or +anyone--or hold her for me"--And then the passion died out of him, as +the dog licked his hand. "But we have been brutes once too often, Binko, +and now we'll have to pay the price. She belongs to Henry, who's behaved +like a gentleman--not to us any more." + +So he rang for his valet and went to his bath quietly, and thus ended +the storm of that day. + +And Henry Fordyce in London was awaiting the arrival of his +well-beloved, who, with the Princess and Mr. Cloudwater, was due to be +at the Ritz Hotel that evening, when they would dine all together and +spend a time of delight. + +And far away in Brittany, the Père Anselme read in his book of +meditations: + + It is when the sky is clearest that the heaviest bolt falls--it + would be well for all good Christians to be on the alert. + +And chancing to look from his cottage window, he perceived that a heavy +rain cloud had gathered over the Château of Héronac. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +In the morning before they left Héronac, Sabine's elderly maid, Simone, +came to her with the face she always wore when her speech might contain +any reference to the past. She had been with Sabine ever since the week +after her marriage, and was a widow and a Parisian, with a kind and +motherly heart. + +"Will madame take the blue despatch-box with her as usual?" she asked. + +Sabine hesitated for a second. She had never gone anywhere without it in +all those five years--but now everything was changed. It might be wiser +to leave it safely at Héronac. Then her eyes fell upon it, and a slight +shudder came over her of the kind which people describe as "a goose +walking over your grave." + +No, she could not leave it behind. + +"I will take it, Simone." + +"As madame wishes," and the maid went on her way. + + * * * * * + +When Sabine had reached London late on that evening in the June of 1907 +on her leaving Scotland she found, in response to the wire she had sent +him from Edinburgh, Mr. Parsons waiting for her at the station, his +astonishment as great as his perturbation. + +Her words had been few; her young mind had been firmly made up in the +train coming south. No one should ever know that there had been any +deviation from the original plan she had laid out for herself. With a +force of will marvellous in one of her tender years, she had controlled +her extreme emotion, and except that she looked very pale and seemed +very determined and quiet, there were no traces of the furnace through +which she had passed, in which had perished all her old conceptions of +existence, although as yet she realized nothing but that she wanted to +go away and to be free and forget her tremors, and presently join +Moravia. + +The marriage had been perfectly legal, as the certificate showed, and +Mr. Parsons, whatever his personal feelings about the matter were, knew +that he had not the smallest control over her--and was bound to hand +over to her her money to do with as she pleased. + +She merely told him the facts--that the marriage had been only an +arrangement to this end--Mr. Arranstoun having agreed before the +ceremony that this should be so--and that she wanted to engage a good +maid and go over to Paris as soon as possible, to see her friend the +Princess Torniloni. + +She had decided in the train that her methods with all who opposed her +must be as they used to be with Sister Jeanne--a statement of her +intentions, and then silence and no explanations. Sister Jeanne had +given up all argument with her in her last year at the convent! + +Mr. Parsons soon found that his words were falling upon deaf ears, and +were perfectly useless. She had cut herself adrift from her aunt and +uncle, whom she cordially disliked, leaving them a letter to tell them +that as she was now her own mistress, she never meant to trouble them or +Mr. Greenbank again, and she bid them adieu! + +"It is not as if they had ever been the least kind to me," she did +condescend to inform the lawyer. "They couldn't bear me really--Samuel, +although he was such a poor creature, was far the best of them. Uncle +was only wanting my money for him, and Aunt Jemima detested me, and only +had me with her because Papa left in his will that she had to, or lose +his legacy. You can't think what I've learned of their meannesses in the +month I've know them!" + +Thus Mr. Parsons had no further arguments to use--and felt that after +seeing her safe to his own hotel that night, and helping to engage a +suitable and responsible maid next day to travel with her, he could do +no more. + +The question of the name troubled him most, and he almost refused to +agree that she should be known as Mrs. Howard. + +"But I have told Mr. Arranstoun that I mean to be only that!" Sabine +exclaimed, "and he didn't mind, and"--here her violet eyes flashed--"I +_will not_ be anything else--so there!" + +Mr. Parsons shrugged his shoulders; she was impossible to deal with, and +as he himself was obliged to return to America in the following week, he +felt the only thing to do was to let her have her way. And so well did +he guard his client's secret then and afterwards, that even Simone, +though a shrewd Frenchwoman, had never known that her mistress' name was +not really Howard. At the time of her being engaged she was just leaving +an American lady from the far West whom Mr. Parsons knew of, and she was +delighted to come as maid and almost chaperon to this sweet, but wilful +young lady. + +So they had gone to Paris together, to order clothes--such a joyous +task--and to make herself forget those hours so terribly full of strange +emotion was all which occupied Sabine's mind at this period. Other +preoccupations came later; and it was then that she listened to Simone's +suggestion of going to San Francisco. The maid knew it well, and there +they spent several months in a quiet hotel. But they neither of them +cared much to remember those days, and nothing would have ever induced +Sabine to return thither. + + * * * * * + +She thought of these things now, as Simone left the room with the blue +case, but she put from her all disturbing remembrances on her journey to +Paris, and rushed into Moravia's arms, who was waiting for her in her +palatial apartment in the Avenue du Bois; they really loved one another, +these two women, as few sisters do. + +"Sabine, you darling!" the Princess cried, while Girolamo, kept up an +hour later to welcome his god-mamma, screamed with joy. + +"Now tell me everything, everything, pet!" Moravia demanded, as she +poured out the tea. "Has the divorce been settled? How soon will you be +free? When can you get married to this nice Englishman?" + +"I don't exactly know, Morri--the law is such a strange thing; however, +my--husband--has agreed and begun to take the necessary steps by +requesting me to go back to him, which I have refused to do." + +"You are looking perfectly splendid, dear. Having all that brain +stimulation evidently suits you. Wasn't the visit of Lord Fordyce +delightful in that romantic old castle? What did you do all the time? +and what was the friend like?--you did not tell me." + +Sabine stirred her tea. + +"He only stayed one night--he was quite a nice creature--Mr. +Arranstoun." + +"Of the castle?" The Princess was thrilled. "Why, darling, he must be +the one that they say is going to marry Daisy Van der Horn. He has got +some matrimonial tangle like you have, and when he is through with it, +Daisy is such dead nuts on him, they say she is certain to get him to +marry her! Do tell me exactly what he is like--I am not over fond of +Daisy, you know--but she is a splendid specimen of dash and vim." + +"He is good-looking, Morri--and he has got 'it.'" + +"I gathered that from all that I have heard of him here. Old Miss +Buskin, Daisy's aunt, you remember the old horror, says he is 'just too +sweet,' and 'that sassy'--you know her frightfully vulgar way of +speaking!--that even she is 'afraid to be alone in the room with him!'" + +"I dare say--he--looked like that--he ought to suit Daisy," and then +Sabine felt she had been spiteful and tried to divert matters by asking +where Mr. Cloudwater was. + +"Papa will be in in a moment. He has been dying for you to come back." +But the Princess had not done with Mr. Arranstoun yet. The Van der Horn +coterie had rung with his exploits on her return from Italy, and the +lurid picture had interested her deeply. + +"I do wish I had been at Héronac, Sabine, I would love to have seen that +young man. Daisy's aunt told me he was wild about her niece, and at one +moment she thought everything was settled--it must have been after he +came back from Brittany--and then he went off to England--probably he +does not like to speak out until he is free." + +Sabine felt that strange sensation she had experienced once before, of +heart sinking--and then, furious with herself, she mastered it and +became more determined than ever to carry out her intention of growing +accustomed to hearing of, and talking about Michael calmly. + +"You are sure to meet him in England," she said; "he is a great friend +of Henry's." + +But afterwards, when she was alone resting in her cosy room before +dinner, she deliberately pulled the blue despatch-box toward her and +looked at some of its contents, while tears gathered in her eyes, which +even the cynical thoughts which she was calling to her aid could not +quite suppress. Would things have been different if she had been able to +send Michael the letter which she had written to him in the September of +1907? The letter she had asked Mr. Parsons, who was again in London, to +have delivered to him, into his hand--and which came back to her in +Paris with the information from the old lawyer that Mr. Arranstoun had +left England for the wilds of China and Tibet, and might not get any +letters for more than a year. She remembered how that night she had +cried herself to sleep with misery, and with a growing regret at having +left Michael, and a pitiful longing just to be clasped once more in his +strong arms and comforted. Oh! the hateful wretched memories! To have +gone off at once to China like that proved his callousness and +indifference. Then, in spite of herself, her thoughts would review all +he had said to her on that morning in the garden. No--there had not been +one word of meaning, not even any suggestion of regret that she was +practically engaged to Henry. There had been some faint allusion to +people being fools--and brutes when young, but not that they would wish +to repair the faults which they had committed then. The whole thing was +plain--he had never really cared an atom for her. He had been only +affected by passion, even on her wedding night when he was pouring love +vows into her startled ears. + +"He was probably horribly surprised to come upon me at Héronac," her +thoughts now ran, "and then just sampled me--and went off as soon as he +could--back to Daisy in Paris!" + +Here chagrin began to rise, and soon dried all her tears. + +Yes! she hoped he would ask them to Arranstoun. She would certainly go, +and try to punish him as much as she could by showing her absorption in +Henry, and her complete indifference to himself. His vanity would be +wounded, since he had owned to being a dog in the manger. That would be +her only revenge--and what a paltry one! She felt that--and was ashamed +of herself; but all human beings are paltry when their self-love is +wounded and the passion of jealousy has them in its thrall, and Sabine +was no better nor worse than any other woman probably. Once more she +made resolutions, firm resolutions to think no more of Michael either +good or bad. It was perfectly sickening--the humiliation and degradation +of his so frequently coming into her mind. She pulled the despatch-box +nearer to her again, and in anger and contempt took from an envelope a +brown and withered spray of flowers, which had once been stephanotis, +and with forceful rage flung them into the fire. + +"There! that is done with--ridiculous, hateful sentiment, go!" + +And when she had shut the lid down with a snap, she rang for Simone and +began to dress for dinner, an extra flush burning in her cheeks. + +They crossed to England a week or so later, Lord Fordyce meeting them at +Charing Cross, and going with them to the Hotel. + +How dear he seemed, and how distinguished he looked! He was as ever a +soothing and uplifting influence, and before the evening was over, +Sabine felt calmed and happy, and sure she had done the right thing in +deciding to link her life with his. + +But it was not so with Moravia. Lord Fordyce had attracted her from the +moment she had first seen him, and as things do during periods of time, +unconsciously this feeling had simmered, and upon seeing him again had +boiled up; and alas! Moravia--beautiful young widow and Princess--found +herself extremely perturbed and excited, and undoubtedly becoming deeply +interested in the declared lover of her friend. Henry for her had every +charm. He was gentle and courteous, he was witty, and calm with that +well-bred consciousness which she adored in Englishmen, and which Sabine +had always said irritated her so. + +It was all too exasperating because, with her unerring feminine +instinct, she divined that Sabine really did not love him at all. If she +had felt that she did, Moravia could have borne it better, but as it was +fate was too hard, and when a week went by the Princess began actually +to feel unhappy. They were continually surrounded with friends, and at +every meal had the kind of parties that once she had taken such delight +in. People were just beginning to come back to London, and they had +amusing play dinners and what not, and all Henry's family, an +intelligent and aristocratic band, had showered attention upon them. The +Princess had very seldom been in London before--and quite understood +that, but for the one particular cherry being out of reach which spoilt +all her joy, she could have been, to use one of Miss Van der Horn's pet +expressions, "terribly amused." Sabine, as the days wore on, and she was +under Henry's influence again, lost her feeling of unrest and grew +happy, and heard Michael's name without a tremor. + +For Moravia dragged him into the conversation by saying how much she +would like to meet him after all she had heard of him in Paris. + +"I had a letter from him this morning," Lord Fordyce said. "He is +shooting in Norfolk at this moment, but comes up to town on Friday +night. I will ask him to dine then, Princess, and you shall see what you +think of him. He really is a very charming fellow, for all his +recklessness--and I expect half those enchanting tales they told you of +him are overdrawn." + +"Oh, I hope not!" Moravia laughed. "Do not disillusion me!" + +Next day, Henry told them that he had wired to Mr. Arranstoun, who had +wired back that he was very sorry he could not dine with them on Friday +and go to a play, so Lord Fordyce promised the Princess he would find +another occasion to present his friend. + +To him, Henry, this week in late October had been one of almost +unalloyed happiness--although he could have dispensed with the +continuous parties; still, he felt the Princess had to be amused, and +perhaps in a larger company he got more chance of speaking to his +beloved alone. + +The position of a man nearly always affects women--and the great and +unmistakable prestige, which it was plain to be seen Henry possessed, +had added to his charm in both Moravia and Sabine's eyes. It gratified +Sabine's vanity. She knew this, she was quite cognizant of the fact that +it pleased her. She felt glad and proud that she should occupy so +exalted a place in the world's eyes, as she would do as his wife. Surely +all the great duties and interests of that position would make life +very fair. It would be such peace and relief when the divorce +proceedings would come on and be finished with--a much less tiresome +affair in Scotland, she had heard, than in an English court. + +When Michael Arranstoun got Henry's wire asking him to dine, he laughed +bitterly. There was something so cynically entertaining in the idea of +the whole situation! He was being asked out to meet the wife whom he was +madly in love with, and was preparing to divorce for desertion, so that +she might marry the giver of the invitation! + +He was tempted to accept for a second or two, the desire to see her +again was growing almost more than he could bear; but at this period he +had still strength to refuse--and then, as the days went on, it seemed +that nothing gave him any pleasure, and that constantly and incessantly +his thoughts turned to one subject. If there had been no friendship or +honor mixed up in the thing, nothing would have been simpler than to sit +down and write to Henry telling him plainly that Sabine was his +wife--and that she must choose between them. But then he remembered +that, apart from all friendship, Sabine had already plainly expressed +her choice, and that he had absolutely no right to hold her in any way +since he had given her permission all those years ago to make what she +chose of her life. He had not yet instructed his lawyers to begin actual +proceedings--he was in a furnace of indecision and unrest. He would +like just somehow to get Sabine to Arranstoun first--then, if after that +she still plainly showed that she loved Henry, he would make himself go +ahead with the freedom scheme; but if he commenced actual proceedings +now, by no possibility could she come to Arranstoun--and this idea--to +get her to Arranstoun, began to be an obsession. Just in proportion as +his nature was wild and rebellious, so the mad longing grew and grew in +him to induce her to come once more into his house. + +And it would seem that fate at first intended to assist him in this, for +on the second of November the party went up North to stay with Rose +Forster, Henry's sister, at Ebbsworth for a great ball she was giving +for a newly married niece. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +For a day or two, Michael Arranstoun could not make up his mind, when he +heard of the Ebbsworth ball, as to whether or no he ought to go to it. +He had several conversations with Binko upon the subject, and finally +came to the conclusion that he would go. He had grown so desperately +unhappy by this time, that he cared no more whether it were right or +wrong--he must see Sabine. He had not believed that it could be possible +for him to suffer to such a degree about a woman. He _must_ satisfy +himself absolutely as to the fact of her loving Henry. + +Rose Forster had written, of course, to ask him to stay in the house for +it--holding out the bait that she had two absolutely charming Americans +coming. So Michael fell--and accepted, not without excusing himself to +Binko as he finished writing out his wire: + + Thousand thanks. I will come. + +"I am a coward, Binko--I ought to have the pluck to go off to Timbuctoo +and let Henry have a fair field--but I haven't and must be certain +first." + +They were all at tea in the library at Ebbsworth when he arrived, +having motored over from Arranstoun after lunch. + +Everyone was enchanted to see him, and greeted him with delight. He knew +almost the whole twenty of them, most of whom were old friends. + +The hostess took him over to the tea table, and sitting near it in a +ravishing tea-gown was Moravia. Rose Forster introduced him casually, +while she poured him out some tea. + +The library was a big room with one or two tall screens, and from behind +the furthest one there came a low, rippling laugh. The sound of it +maddened Michael, and his bold blue eyes blazed as he began to talk to +the Princess. His naturally easy manners made him able to carry on some +kind of a conversation, but his whole attention was fixed upon the +whereabouts of Sabine. She was with Henry, of course, behind that +Spanish leather screen. He hardly even noticed that Moravia was a very +pretty woman, most wonderfully dressed; but he felt she was a powerful +unit in his game of getting Sabine to Arranstoun, and so he endeavored +to make himself agreeable to her. + +Presently, in the general move, Lord Fordyce and his lady love emerged +with two other people they had been talking to, and Henry came up to +Michael with outstretched hand. + +He was awfully glad to see him, he said. Then this estranged husband +and wife were face to face. + +It was a wonderful moment for both of them, and with all the schooling +that each one had been through, it was extremely difficult to behave +naturally. Michael did not fight with himself, except to keep from all +outward expression; he knew he was simply overcome with emotion; but +Sabine continued to throw dust in her own eyes. The sudden wild beating +of her heart she put down to every other reason but the true one. It was +most wrong of Michael to have come to this party; but it was, of course, +done out of bravado to show her that she did not matter to him at +all--so with supreme sangfroid she greeted him casually, and then turned +eyes of tenderness to Henry. + +"You were going to show me the miniatures in the next room, Lord +Fordyce--were you not?" she said, sweetly, and took a step on toward the +door, leaving Michael with pain and rage for company. + +She had never allowed Henry to kiss her since that one occasion at +Héronac. It was not as it should be, she affirmed--until she were free +and really engaged to him, she prayed him to behave always only as a +friend. Lord Fordyce acquiesced, as he would have done to any penance +she chose to impose upon him, and in his secret thoughts rather +respected her for her decision; he was then more than delighted when she +put her slender hand upon his arm with possessive familiarity as soon +as they had reached the anteroom where the collection of miniatures were +kept; but he did not know that she was aware that Michael stood where he +could see them through the archway. + +"My darling!" and he lifted the white fingers to his lips. Sabine had +particularly beautiful hands, and they were his delight. She never wore +any rings--only her wedding-ring and the one great pearl Henry had +persuaded her to let him give her, but this was on her right hand. + +"It would mean nothing for me to have it on the left one--while that bar +of gold is there," she had told him. "I will only take it if you let me +have it as a gage of friendship," and as ever he agreed. He was so +passionately in love with her, there was nothing in the world he would +not have done or left undone to please her. His eye followed her always +with rapture, and her slightest wish was instantly obeyed. Sabine was +naturally an autocrat, and, but for the great generosity of her spirit, +might have made him suffer considerably, but she did not, being +consistently gentle and sweet. + +"My darling!" Henry repeated, in the little anteroom, while his fond +eyes devoured her face. "Sometimes I love you so it frightens me--My +God, if anything were to take you from me now, I do not think I could +bear it." + +Sabine shivered as she bent down to look at a case of Cosways in a show +table. + +"Nothing can take you from me, Henry--unless something goes wrong about +the divorce. My lawyer arrives in England to-day from America on purpose +to consult me and see what can be done to hasten matters. +My--husband--has not as yet started the proceedings it seems." + +Lord Fordyce's face paled. + +"Does that mean anything sinister, dearest?" he demanded, with a quiver +in his cultivated voice. "Sabine, you would tell me, would you not, if +there were anything to fear?" + +"I do not myself know what it means--I may have some news to-morrow--let +us forget about it to-night. Oh! I want to be happy just for to-night, +Henry!" and she held out her hand again pleadingly. + +"Indeed, you shall be, darling," and splendid and unselfish gentleman +that he was, he crushed down his anguish, and used all his clever brain +to divert and entertain her, and presently all the women went up to +dress for dinner and the ball, and Lord Fordyce found Michael in the +smoking-room. He had really a deep affection for him; he had known him +ever since he was an absolutely fearless, dare-devil little boy, the joy +and pride of his father, Henry's old friend, and in spite of the full +ten years' difference in their ages, they had ever been closest allies +until their break at Arranstoun, and then Michael's five years abroad +had made a gap, bridged over now since his return. Lord Fordyce felt +that Michael's intense vitality and radiating magnetism would be +refreshing in the depressed state into which his lady love's words had +thrown him, and he drew him over with him, and they sat down in two big +chairs apart from the rest of the festive groups--some playing bridge or +billiards. Michael was in no gentle temper, and Henry was the last +person he wished to talk to. He knew he ought not to have come, he knew +that he ought to tell Henry straight out and then go off before the +ball. He felt he was behaving like the most despicable coward; and yet, +if it were possible for Henry never to know that he, Michael, was +Sabine's husband, it would save his friend much pain. He was smarting +under Sabine's insolent dismissal of him, and burning with jealousy over +that witnessed caress, the violent passions of his race were surging up +and causing a devil of recklessness to show in his very handsome face. +Lord Fordyce saw that something had disturbed him. + +"What's up, Michael, old boy?" he asked. "I haven't seen you look so +like Black James since you got Violet Hatfield's letter and did not see +how you could get out of marrying her." + +Black James was a famous Arranstoun of the Court of James IV of +Scotland, whose exploits had been the terror and admiration of the whole +country, and who was even yet a byword for recklessness and savagery. + +Michael laughed. + +"Poor old Violet!" he said. "She will soon be bringing out her +daughter. I saw her the other day in London; she cut me dead!" + +"That was an escape!" and Henry lit a cigar. "However, as you know, a +year after weeping crocodile tears for poor Maurice, she married young +Layard of Balmayn. So all's well that ends well. She and Rose have never +spoken since the scene when Violet read in the _Scotsman_ that you had +got married!" + +"Don't let's talk of it!" returned Mr. Arranstoun. "The whole thought of +marriage and matrimony makes me sick!" + +"Are you in some fresh scrape?" Henry exclaimed. + +Michael put his head down doggedly, while his eyes flashed and he bit +off the end of his cigar. + +"Yes, the very devil of a hole--but this time no one can help me with +advice or even sympathy; I must get out of the tangle myself." + +"I am awfully sorry, old man." + +"It is my own fault, that is what hurts the most." + +"I do not feel particularly brilliant to-night either," Henry announced. +"The divorce proceedings have not apparently been commenced in +America--and nothing definite can be settled. I do not understand it +quite. I always thought that out there the woman could always get +matters manipulated for her, and get rid of the man when she wanted. +They are so very chivalrous to women, American men, whatever may be +their other sins. This one must be an absolute swine." + +"Yes--does Mrs. Howard feel it very much?" and Michael's deep voice +vibrated strangely. + +"She spoke of it just now. Her lawyer arrives from New York to-day to +consult with her what is best next to be done." + +"And she never told you a thing about the fellow, Henry? How very +strange of her, isn't it?" + +Lord Fordyce's fine, gray eyes gleamed. + +"Ah--Michael, if you had ever loved a woman, you would know that when +you really do, you desire to trust her to the uttermost. Sabine would +tell me and offered to at once if I wished, but--it all upsets her so--I +agree with her--it is much happier for both of us not to talk about it. +Only if there seems to be some hitch I will get her to tell me, so that +I may be able to help her. I have a fairly clear judgment generally--and +may see some points she and Mr. Parsons have neglected." + +Michael gazed into the fire--at this moment his worst enemy might have +pitied him. + +"Supposing anything were to go really wrong, Henry, it would cut you up +awfully, eh?" + +And if Lord Fordyce had not been so preoccupied with his own emotions, +he would have seen an over-anxiety on the face of his friend. + +"I believe it would just end my life, Michael," he answered, very low. +"I am not a boy, you know, to get over it and begin again." + +Mr. Arranstoun bounded from his chair. + +"Nothing must be allowed to go wrong, then, old man," he exclaimed +almost fiercely. "Don't you fret. But, by Jove, we will be late for +dinner!" and afraid to trust himself to say another word, he turned to +one of the groups near and at last got from the room. He did not go up +to his own, but on into the front hall, and so out into the night. A +brisk wind was blowing, and the moon, a young, frosty moon was bright. +He knew the place well, and paced a stone terrace undisturbed. It was on +the other side all was noise and bustle, where the large, built out +ball-room stood. + +An absolute decision must be come to. No more shilly-shallying--he had +thrown the dice and lost and must pay the stakes. He would ask her to +dance this night and then get speech with her alone--discuss what would +be best to do to save Henry, and then on the morrow go and begin +proceedings immediately. + +Meanwhile, up in Moravia's room, Sabine was seated upon the white +sheep's-skin rug before the fire; she was wildly excited and extremely +unhappy. + +The sight of Michael again had upset all her fancied indifference, and +shaken her poise; and apart from this, the situation was grotesque and +unseemly. She could no longer suffer it: she would tell Henry the whole +truth to-morrow and ask him what she must do. His love almost terrified +her. What awful responsibility lay in her hand? But civilization +commanded her to dress in her best, and go down and dance gaily and play +her part in the world. + +"Oh! what slaves we are, Morri!" she exclaimed, as though speaking her +thoughts aloud, for the remark had nothing to do with what the Princess +had said. + +Moravia, who was lying on the sofa not in the best of moods either, +answered gloomily: + +"Yes, slaves--or savages. The truth is, we are nearly all animals more +or less. Some are caught by wiles, and some are trapped, and some revel +in being captured--and a few--a few are like me--they get away as a bird +with a shot in its wing." + +Sabine was startled--what was agitating her friend? + +"But your troubles are over, Morri, darling--your wings are strong and +free!" + +"I said there was a shot in one of them." + +Sabine came and sat upon a stool beside her, and took and caressed her +hand. + +"Something has hurt you, dearest," she cooed, rubbing Moravia's arm with +her velvet cheek. "What is it?" + +"No, I am not hurt--I am only cynical. I despise our sex--most of us are +just primitive savages underneath at one time of our lives or +another--we adore the strong man who captures us in spite of all our +struggles!" + +"Morri!" + +"It is perfectly true! we all pass through it. In the beginning, when +Girolamo devoured me with kisses and raged with jealousy, and one day +almost beat me, I absolutely worshipped him; it was when he became +polite--and then yawned that my misery began. You will go through it, +Sabine, if you have not already done so. It seems we suffer all the +time, because when that is over then we learn to appreciate gentleness +and chivalry--and probably by then it is out of our reach." + +"I don't believe anything is out of our reach if we want it enough," and +Sabine closed her firm mouth. + +"Then I wonder what you want, Sabine--because I know you do not really +want Lord Fordyce--he represents chivalry--and I don't believe you are +at that stage yet, dearest." + +"What stage am I at, then, Morri?" + +"The one when you want a master--you have mastered everything yourself +up to now--but the moment will come to you--and then you will be +fortunate, perhaps, if fate keeps the man away!" + +Sabine's violet eyes grew black as night--and her little nostrils +quivered. + +"I know nothing of passions, Moravia," she cried, and threw out her +arms. "I have only dreamed of them--imagined them. I am afraid of +them--afraid to feel too much. Henry will be a haven of rest--the +moment--can never come to me." + +The Princess laughed a little bitterly. + +"Then let us dress, darling, and go down and outshine all these dear, +dowdy Englishwomen; and while you are sipping courtesy and gentleness +with Lord Fordyce, I shall try to quaff gloriously attractive, +aboriginal force with Mr. Arranstoun--but it would have been more +suitable to our characters could we have changed partners. Now, run +along!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Rose Forster had felt she must not lure Mr. Arranstoun over to Ebbsworth +on false pretences; he was a very much sought after young man, and since +his return from the wilds had been very difficult to secure, and +therefore it was her duty to give him one of her beautiful Americans at +dinner. The Princess was obviously the destiny of her husband with her +brother Henry upon the other side, so Michael must take in Mrs. Howard. +Mr. Arranstoun was one of the last two guests to assemble in the great +drawing-room where the party were collected, and did not hear of his +good fortune until one minute before dinner was announced. + +Sabine had perhaps never looked so well in her life. She had not her +father's nation's love of splendid jewels, and wore none of any kind. +Her French mother may have transmitted to her some wonderful strain of +tastes which from earliest youth had seemed to guide her into selecting +the most beautiful and becoming things without great knowledge. Her ugly +frocks at the Convent had been a penance, and ever since she had been +free and rich her clothes and all her belongings had been marvels of +distinction and simplicity. + +Moravia was, strictly speaking, far more beautiful, but Sabine, as Henry +had once said, had "it." + +Her manner was just what it ought to have been, as she placed her hand +upon her husband's arm--perfectly indifferent and gracious, and so they +went in to dinner. + +Michael had hardly hoped to have this chance and meant to make the most +of it. At dinner before a ball was not the place to have a serious +discussion about divorce, but was for lighter and more frivolous +conversation, and he felt his partner would be no unskilled adversary +with the foils. + +"So you have got this far north, Mrs. Howard," he began by saying, +making a slight pause over the name. "I wish I could persuade you to +come over the border to Arranstoun; it is only thirty-five miles from +here, and really merits your attention." + +"I have heard it is a most interesting place," Sabine returned, suddenly +experiencing the same wild delight in the game as she had done in the +garden at Héronac. "Have you ghosts there? We do not have such things in +France." + +"Yes, there are a number of ghosts--but the most persistent and +disconcerting one is a very young girl who nightly falls through a +secret door into my room." + +"How romantic! What is she like?" Two violet eyes looked up at him full +of that mischief which lies in the orbs of a kitten when it contemplates +some fearsome crime, and has to appear especially innocent. + +Michael thrilled. If she had that expression he was quite ready to +follow the lead. + +"She is perfectly enchanting--shall I tell you exactly what she +wears--and her every feature and the color of her eyes? The wraith so +materializes that I can describe it as accurately as I could describe +you sitting next me." + +"Please do." + +"She is about five foot seven tall--I mean she has grown as tall as +that--when she first appeared she could not have been taller than five +foot five." + +"How strange!" + +"Yes, isn't it--well, she has the most divine figure, quite slight and +yet not scraggy--you know the kind, I loathe them scraggy!" + +"I hate fat people." + +"But she isn't fat. I tell you she is too sweet. She has a round baby +face with the loveliest violet eyes in the world and such a skin!--like +a velvet rose petal!" His unabashed regard penetrated Sabine who smiled +slyly. + +"You don't mean to say you can see all these material things in a +ghost!" she cried with an enchanting air of incredulity. + +"Perfectly--I have not half finished yet. I have not told you about her +mouth--it is very curved and full and awfully red--and there is the most +adorable dimple up at one side of it, I am sure the people in the ghost +world that she meets must awfully want to kiss it." + +Sabine frowned. This was rather too intimate a description, but +bashfulness or diffidence she knew were not among Mr. Arranstoun's +qualities--or defects. + +"I think I am tired of hearing what this ghost looks like, I want to +know what does she do? Aren't you petrified with fright?" + +"Not in the least," Michael told her, "but you will just have to hear +about her hair--when it comes down it is like lovely bronze waves--and +her little feet, too--they are exquisite enough in shoes and stockings, +but without----!" + +Here he had the grace to look at his fish which was just being handed. + +A flush as pink as the pinkest rose came into Sabine's cheeks--he was +perfectly disgraceful and this was of course in shocking taste--but when +he glanced up again his attractive blue eyes had her late look of an +innocent kitten's in them and he said in an angelic tone: + +"She has not a fault, you may believe me, and she jumps up after the +fall into the room, and sits in one of my big chairs!" + +"Does she scold you for your sins as denizens of another sphere ought to +do?" Mrs. Howard was constrained to ask. + +"No--she is a little angel and always tells me that sins are forgiven." + +"Does she come often?" + +"Every single evening when I am alone--and--sometimes, she melts into my +arms and stays with me all night. Binko--Ah!--you remember Binko!"--for +Sabine's face had suddenly lit up--and at this passionate joy and +emotion flooded Michael's and they both stopped dead short in their talk +and Sabine took a quick breath that was almost a gasp. + +"I remember--nothing," she said very fast, "how should I? The girl whose +ghost you are speaking of ceased to exist five years ago--but +I--recognize the portrait--I knew her in life--and she told me about the +dog--he had fat paws and quantities of wrinkles, I think she said." + +"Yes, that is Binko!" and his master beamed rapturously. "He is the most +beautifully ugly bulldog in the world, but the poor old boy is getting +on, he is seven years old now. Would not you like to see him--again--I +mean from what you have heard!" + +"I love animals, especially dogs--but tell me, is he not afraid of the +ghost?" + +Michael drank some champagne, even under all his unhappiness he was +greatly enjoying himself. "Not at all, he loves her to come as much as I +do. She haunts--both my rooms--and the chapel, too--she wears a white +dress and has some stephanotis in her hair--and I am somehow compelled +to enact a whole scene with her--there before the altar with all the +candles blazing--and it seems as if I put a ring upon her hand--like the +one you are wearing there--she has lovely hands." + +The color began to die out of Sabine's cheeks and a strange look grew in +her eyes. The footmen were removing the fish plates, but she was +oblivious of that. Then the tones of Michael's voice changed and grew +deeper. + +"Soon all the vision fades into gloom, and the only thing I can see is +that she is tearing my ring off and throwing it away into the darkness." + +"And do you try to prevent her from doing this?" Sabine hardly spoke +above a whisper, while she absently refused an entrée which was being +handed. To talk of ghosts and such like things had been easy enough, but +she had not bargained for him turning the conversation into one of +serious meaning. She could not, however, prevent herself from continuing +it, she had never been so interested in her life. + +"No--I cannot do that--there is an archangel standing between." + +At this moment Mrs. Howard's other neighbor claimed her attention; he +was a man to whom she had been talking at tea, and who was already +filled with admiration for her. + +Michael had time for breathing space, and to consider whether the +course he was pursuing was wisdom or not. That it was madly exciting, he +knew--but where was it leading to? What did she mean? Did she feel at +all? or was she one of the clever coquettes of her nation, a more +refined Daisy Van der Horn--just going to lead him on into showing his +emotion for her, and then going to punish and humiliate him? He must put +a firmer guard over himself, for propinquity and the night were exciting +influence, and the cruel fact remained that it was too late in any case. +Henry's words this afternoon had cast the die forever; +he--Michael--could not for any personal happiness be so hideously cruel +to his old friend. Better put a bullet through his own brain than that. +Whatever should develop on this night, and he meant to continue the +conversation as it should seem best to him, and if she fenced too +daringly with him to take the button off the foils--but whatever should +come of it it should not be allowed to alter his intention of to-morrow +instructing his lawyers in Edinburgh to begin divorce proceedings at +once. He was like a gambler who has lost his last stake, and who still +means to take what joy of life he can before the black to-morrow dawns. +So, in the ten minutes or so while Sabine had turned from him, he laid +his plans. He would see how much he could make her feel. He would dance +with her later and then say a final farewell. If she were hurt, too, he +must not care--she had made the barrier of her own free will. The +person who was blameless and should not suffer was Henry. Then he began +to look at Sabine furtively, and caught the outline of her sweet, +averted head. How irresistibly attractive she was! The exact type he +admired; not too intellectual-looking, just soft and round and babyish; +there was one little curl on her snowy _nuque_ that he longed to kiss +there and then. What a time she was talking to the other man! He would +not bear it! + +And Sabine, while she apparently listened to her neighbor, had not the +remotest idea of what he said. The whole of her being was thrilling with +some strange and powerful emotion, which almost made her feel faint--she +could not have swallowed a morsel of food, and simply played with her +fork. + +At the first possible pause, Michael addressed her again: + +"Since you knew the lady in life who is now my ghost--and she told you +of Binko--did she not say anything else about her visit to Arranstoun or +its master?" + +"Nothing--it was all apparently a blank horror, and she probably wanted +to forget it and him." + +"He made some kind of an impression upon her, then--good or bad, since +she wanted to forget him--" eagerly. + +Sabine admitted to herself that the umpires might have called "_touché_" +for this. + +"It would seem so," she allowed, with what she thought was generosity. + +"That is better than only creating indifference." + +"Yes--the indifference came later." + +"One expected that; but there was a time, you have inferred, when she +felt something. What was it? Can't you tell me?" + +Excitement was rising high now in both of them, and the grouse on their +plates remained almost untasted. + +"At first, she did not know herself, I think; but afterwards, when she +came to understand things, she felt resentment and hate, and it taught +her to appreciate chivalry and gentleness." + +Michael almost cried "_touché_!" aloud. + +"He was an awful brute--the owner of Arranstoun, I suppose?" + +"Yes--apparently--and one who broke a contract and rather glorified in +the fact." + +Michael laughed a little bitterly, as he answered: + +"All men are brutes when the moment favors them, and when a woman is +sufficiently attractive. We will admit that the owner of Arranstoun was +a brute." + +"He was a man who, I understand, lived only for himself and for his +personal gratification," Mrs. Howard told him. + +"Poor devil! He perhaps had not had much chance. You should be +charitable!" + +Sabine shrugged her shoulders in that engaging way she had. She had +hardly looked up again at Michael since the beginning, the exigencies of +the dinner-table being excuse enough for not turning her head; but his +eyes often devoured her fascinating, irregular profile to try and +discover her real meaning, but without success. + +"He was probably one of those people who are more or less like animals, +and just live because they are alive," Sabine went on. "Who are educated +because they happen to have been born in the upper classes--Who drink +and eat and sport and game because it gives their senses pleasure so to +do--but who see no further good in things." + +"A low wretch!" + +"Yes--more or less." + +Michael's eyes were flashing now--and she did peep at him, when he said: + +"But if the original of the ghost had stayed with him, she might have +been able to change this base view of life--she could have elevated +him." + +Sabine shook her head. + +"No, she was too young and too inexperienced, and he had broken all her +ideals, absolutely stunned and annihilated her whole vista of the +future. There was no other way but flight. She had to reconstruct her +soul alone." + +"You do not ask me what became of the owner of Arranstoun--or what he +did with his life." + +"I know he went to China--but the matter does not interest me. There he +probably continued to live and to kill other things--to seize what he +wanted and get some physical joy out of existence as usual." + +A look of pain now quenched the fire. + +"You are very cruel," he said. + +"The owner of Arranstoun was very cruel." + +"He knows it and is deeply repentant; but he was and is only a very +ordinary man." + +"No, a savage." + +"A savage then, if you will--and one dangerous to provoke too far;" the +fire blazed again. "And what do you suppose your friend learned in those +five years of men--after she had ceased to exist as the owner of +Arranstoun knew her?" + +Sabine laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. + +"Of men! That they are like children, desiring only the toys that are +out of reach, wasting their souls upon what they cannot obtain and +valuing not at all the gifts of the gods which are in their own +possession." + +"What a cynical view!" + +"Is it not a true one?" + +"Perhaps--in some cases--in mine certainly; only I have generally +managed to obtain what I wanted." + +"Then it may be a new experience for you to find there was one thing +which was out of your reach." + +He bent forward eagerly and asked, with a catch in his breath: + +"And that was----?" + +"The soul of a woman--shall we say--that something which no brute force +can touch." + +The fencing bout was over, the foils were laid aside, and grim earnest +was in Michael's voice now--modulated by civilization into that tone +which does not carry beyond one's neighbor at a dinner party. + +"Your soul--Sabine--that is the only thing which interests me, and I was +never able to touch your soul? That is not true, as you know--How dare +you say it to me. There was one moment----" + +"Hush," she whispered, growing very white. "You must not--you shall not +speak to me so. You had no right to come here. No right to talk to me at +all--it is traitorous--we are both traitors to Lord Fordyce, who is a +noble gentleman above suspecting us of such wiles." + +And at that moment, through a gap in the flowers of the long table, they +both saw Henry's gray eyes fixed upon them with a rather questioning +surprise--and then Mrs. Forster gave the signal to the ladies, and +Sabine with the others swept from the room, leaving Michael quivering +with pain and emotion. + +As for Sabine, she was trembling from head to foot. + +During dinner, Moravia had had an interesting conversation with Henry. +They had spoken of all sorts of things and eventually, toward the end of +it, of Sabine. + +"She is the strangest character, Lord Fordyce," Moravia said. "She is +more like a boy than a girl in some ways. She absolutely rules everyone. +When we were children, she and all the others used to call me the mother +in our games, but it was really Sabine who settled everything. She was +always the brigand captain. She got us into all the mischief of +clandestine feasts and other rule breaking--and all the Sisters simply +adored her, and the Mother Superior, too, and they used to let her off, +no matter what she did, with not half our punishments. She was the +wildest madcap you ever saw." + +Henry was, of course, deeply interested. + +"She is sufficiently grave and dignified now!" he responded in +admiration, his worshiping eyes turned in Sabine's direction; but it was +only when she moved in a certain way that he could see her, through the +flowers. Michael he saw plainly all the time, and perceived that he was +not boring himself. + +"Her character, then, would seem to have been rather like my friend's, +Michael Arranstoun's," he remarked. "They have both such an astonishing, +penetrating vitality, one would almost know when either of them was in +the room even if one could not see them." + +"He is awfully good-looking and attractive, your friend," Moravia +returned. "I have never seen such bold, devil-may-care blue eyes. I +suppose women adore him; I personally have got over my interest in that +sort of man. I much prefer courteous and more diffident creatures." + +Lord Fordyce smiled. + +"Yes, I believe women spoil Michael terribly, and he is perfectly +ruthless with them, too; but I understand that they like that sort of +thing." + +"Yes--most of them do. It is the simple demonstration of strength which +allures them. You see, man was meant to be strong," and Moravia laughed +softly, "wasn't he? He was not designed in the scheme of things to be a +soft, silky-voiced creature like Cranley Beaton, for instance--talking +gossip and handing tea-cups; he was just intended to be a fierce, great +hunter, rushing round killing his food and capturing his mate; and women +have remained such primitive unspoiled darlings, they can still be +dominated by these lovely qualities--when they have a chance to see +them. But, alas! half the men have become so awfully civilized, they +haven't a scrap of this delightful, aboriginal force left!" + +"I thought you said you personally preferred more diffident creatures," +and Lord Fordyce smiled whimsically. + +"So I do now--I said I had got over my interest in these savages--but, +of course, I liked them once, as we all do. It is one of our fatal +stages that we have to pass through, like snakes changing their skins; +and it makes many of us during the time lay up for ourselves all sorts +of regrets." + +Henry sought eagerly through the flowers his beloved's face. Had she, +too, passed through this stage--or was it to come? He asked himself this +question a little anxiously, and then he remembered the words of Père +Anselme, and an unrest grew in his heart. The Princess saw that some +shadow had gathered upon his brow, and guessed, since she knew that his +thoughts in general turned that way, that it must be something to do +with Sabine--so she said: + +"Sabine and I have come through our happinesses, I trust, since Convent +days--and what we must hope for now is an Indian summer." + +Henry turned rather wistful eyes to her. + +"An Indian summer!" he exclaimed. "A peaceful, beautiful warmth after +the riotous joy of the real blazing June! Tell me about it?" + +Moravia sighed softly. + +"It is the land where the souls who have gone through the fire of pain +live in peace and quiet happiness, content to glow a little before the +frosts of age come to quench all passion and pleasure." + +Henry looked down at the grapes on his plate. + +"There is autumn afterwards," he reasoned, "which is full of richness +and glorious fruit. May we not look forward to that? But yet I know that +we all deceive ourselves and live in what may be only a fool's +paradise"--and then it was that he caught sight of his adored, as she +bent forward after her rebuke to Michael--and with a burst of feeling +in his controlled voice, he cried: "But who would forego his fool's +paradise!"--and then he took in the fact that some unusual current of +emotion must have been passing between the two--and his heart gave a +great bound of foreboding. + +For the keenness of his perceptions and his honesty of judgment made him +see that they were strangely suited to one another--his darling and his +friend--so strong and vital and young. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The ball was going splendidly and everyone seemed to be in wild form. +Sabine had danced with an excitement in her veins which she could not +control. Had there been no music or lights, she might just have felt +frightfully disturbed and unhappy, but as it was she was only conscious +of excitement. Lord Fordyce was above showing jealousy, and was content +that she seemed to be enjoying herself, and did not appear unwilling to +return to him quite frequently and walk about the room or sit down. + +"You are looking so supremely bewitching, my darling," he told her. "I +feel it is selfish of me to keep you away from the gay dances, you are +so young and sweet. I want you to enjoy yourself. Have you not danced +with Michael Arranstoun yet? I saw you were getting on with him +splendidly at dinner--he used to be a great dancer before he went off to +foreign parts." + +"No, I have not spoken to him even," she answered, with what +indifference she could. + +"What was he saying just before you left the dining-room which made you +look so haughty, dearest? He was not impertinent to you, I hope," and +Henry frowned a little at the thought. + +Sabine played with her fan--she was feeling inexpressibly mean. + +"No--not in the least--we were discussing someone we had both +known--long ago--she is dead now. I may have been a little annoyed at +what he said. Oh! is that a Scotch reel they are going to begin?" + +How glad she was of this diversion! She knew she had been capricious +with Lord Fordyce once or twice during the evening. She was greatly +perturbed. Oh! Why had she not had the courage to be her usual, honest +self, and have told him immediately at Héronac who her husband really +was. She was in a false position, ashamed of her deceit and surrounded +by a net-work of acted lies; and all through everything there was a +passionate longing to speak to Michael again, and to be near him once +more as at dinner. She had been conscious of everything that he did--of +whom he had danced with--Moravia for several times--and now she knew +that he was not in the ball-room. + +Nothing could exceed Henry's gentleness and goodness to her. He watched +her moods and put up with her caprices; that something unusual had +disturbed her he felt, but what it could be he was unable to guess. + +Sabine was aware that other women were envying her for the attention +showered upon her by this much sought after man. She tried to assure +herself how fortunate she was, and now got Henry to tell her once more +of things about his home. It was in the fairest part of Kent, and they +had often talked of the wonderful garden they would have in that fertile +country sheltered from all wind, and she knew that as soon as the +divorce was over, she and Moravia would go and stay there and look over +it all, and meet his mother, which meeting had not yet been arranged. +For some unknown reason nothing would induce her to go now. + +"I would rather see it for the first time, Henry, when I am engaged to +you. Now I should be an ordinary visitor--can't you understand?" + +And he had said that he could. It always thrilled him when she appeared +to take an interest in his home. + +They talked now about it--and how he would so love her to choose her own +rooms and have them arranged as she liked. Then he made pictures of +their life together there, and as he spoke her heart seemed to sink and +become heavier every moment, until at last she could bear no more. + +It was about two dances before supper, into which she had promised to go +with him. She would get away to her room now and be alone until then. +She must pull herself together and act with common sense. + +She told him that she had to settle her hair, which had become +disarranged, and saying he would wait for her he left her at the foot of +the smaller staircase, which led in a roundabout way to her and +Moravia's rooms. She had not wanted to pass through the great hall +where quantities of people were sitting out. She was just crossing the +corridor where the bachelors were lodged, when she almost ran into the +arms of Michael Arranstoun. + +He stopped short and apologized--and then he said: + +"I was coming to find you--there is something I must say to you. Mrs. +Forster's sitting-room is close here--will you come with me in there for +a moment; we can be alone." + +Sabine hesitated. She looked up at him, so tall and masterful and +astonishingly handsome--and then she obeyed him meekly, and he led the +way into a cosy little room unlit except for a glowing mass of coals. + +Michael turned on one electric lamp, and they both went over to the +chimney piece. + +Intense excitement and emotion filled them, but while he tried to search +her face with his passionate eyes, she looked into the fire with lowered +head. + +Then he spoke almost fiercely: + +"I cannot try to guess what caused you to pretend you did not recognize +me when we met at Héronac. That first false step has created all this +hopeless tangle. I will not judge you, but only blame my own weakness in +falling in with your plan." He clasped his hands together rather wildly. +"I was so stunned with surprise to see you, and overcome with the +knowledge that I had just given Henry my word of honor that I would not +interfere with him, or make love to the lady we were going to see--a +Mrs. Howard, who was married to a ruffian of an American husband shut up +in a madhouse or home for inebriates! My God! Lies from the very +beginning," and he gave a little laugh. "I had forgotten for the moment +that you had said you would call yourself by that name, but I remembered +it afterwards. You had not decided if you would be a widow--do you +recollect?--and you wanted a coronet for your handkerchiefs and +note-paper!" + +Sabine quivered under the lash of his scorn. + +"You maddened me that afternoon and at dinner, too," he went on, "and I +made resolutions and then broke them. But each time I did, I was filled +with remorse and contrition about Henry--and I am ashamed to confess it, +I was madly jealous, too. At last, I saw you in the garden together and +knew I ought to go at once." + +Here his voice broke a little, and he unclasped his hands. She raised +her head defiantly now, and flashed back at him: + +"I understand you had admitted to being a dog in the manger--you were +always an animal of sorts!" + +This told, he grew paler, and into his blue eyes there came a look of +pain. + +"You have a perfect right to say that to me if you choose; it is +probably true. I am a very strong man with tremendous passions which +have always been in my race; but I am not altogether a brute--because, +although I want you myself with more intensity than I have ever wanted +anything in my life--I am going to give you up to Henry. I have been +through hell--ever since I came from France. I have been weak, too, and +could not face the final wrench--but I am determined at last to do what +is straight, and to-morrow I will instruct my lawyers to begin +proceedings, and I suppose in two months or less you will be free." + +Sabine grew white and cold--her voice was hardly audible as she asked, +looking up at him: + +"What made you come here to-night?" + +He took a step nearer to her, while he reclasped his hands, as though he +feared that he might be tempted to touch her. + +"I came--because I wanted to see you so that I could not stay away--I +came because I wished to convince myself again that you loved Henry, so +that there could be no shadow of uncertainty in what I intended to do." + +"Well?" + +"I saw that, whether you love him or not, you desire that I shall think +that you do--and so at dinner I played for my own pleasure, the die +being cast, for something else had occurred before dinner which makes it +of no consequence to my decision whether you do or do not love him now. +It is Henry's great love for you which is the factor, because to part +from you he says would end his life. I could not commit the frightful +cruelty and dishonor of upsetting his plans, since you are originally to +blame for concealing the truth from him, and I am to blame for abetting +you. He trusts us both as you said." + +Sabine was trembling; her whole fabric of peace and happiness in the +future seemed to be falling to pieces like a pack of cards. + +She could only look at Michael with piteous violet eyes out of which all +the defiance had gone. Her slender figure swayed a little, and she +leaned against the mantelpiece. + +"My God!" he said, with a fresh clenching of his strong hands, "I would +not have believed I could have suffered so. As it is the last time we +shall ever talk to one another perhaps--I want you to know about +things--to hear it all. I would like to ask you again to forgive me for +long ago, but I suppose you feel that is past forgiveness?" His face had +a look of pleading; then he went on as she did not respond. "If you had +not left me, I would soon have made you forget that you had been angry, +as I thought indeed I had already done when you seemed to be contented +at least in my arms. But I would have caressed you into complete +forgetfulness in time--" here his voice vibrated with a deep note of +tenderness, which thrilled her--but yet she could not speak. + +"And what had begun just in mad passion would have grown into real love +between us--for we were made for one another Sabine--did you never +think of that?--just the same sort of natures--vigorous and all alive +and passionate, with the same joy of life in our blood. We would have +been supremely happy. But I was so frightfully arrogant in those days, +and when I spoke I was deadly ashamed of myself, and then furious with +you for daring to defy me and going after all. No one had ever disobeyed +me. But it was shame really which made me agree to join Latimer +Berkeley's expedition at once--the letter came by the early post. I +wanted to get right away and try to forget what I had done--and since +you had expressed your will, I just left you to stand by it." He leaned +upon the mantelpiece now and buried his face in his hands. + +"Oh, how wrong I was! Because you were so young I should have known that +you could not judge--and perhaps acted hastily in that sort of reaction +which always comes to one after passion--and I should have followed you +and brought you back." + +His tones shook with anguish now. "Well, I am punished--and so all that +is left for us to do is to say good-bye, my dear, and let us each go our +ways. You, at least, are not suffering as I am--because you do not +care." + +A little sob came in Sabine's throat, and she could not reply. She could +only take in the splendor of his figure and his grace as he leaned there +with dark bent head. And so, in a silence that seemed to throb and +thrill, they stood near together for a few moments with hearts at +breaking point. + +Then he controlled himself; he must go at once or he could no longer +answer for what he might do. She looked so sweet and sorrowful standing +close to his side, her violet eyes lowered so that their long lashes +made a shadow upon her dimpled cheek. + +Intense magnetic attraction drew them nearer and nearer. + +"Sabine!" he cried at last, hoarsely, as though the words were torn from +his tortured heart. "There is something about you which tells me that +you do not love Henry--that he has never made you feel--as I once made +you feel, and could make you feel again." He stretched out his arms in +pain. "The temptation is frightful--terrible--just to kiss you once +more--Darling--Oh! I cannot bear it. I must go!" and he took a step away +from her. + +But _the Moment_ for Sabine had come; she could resist its force no +more, every nerve in her whole body was quivering--every unknown, though +half-guessed emotion was stirring her soul. Her whole being seemed to be +convulsed in one concentrated desire. The reality had materialized the +echoes she had often dimly felt from that night of long ago. + +The wild passion which she had feared, and only that very evening had +repudiated as being an impossible experience for her, had now overtaken +her, and she could struggle no more. + +"Michael!" she whispered breathlessly, and held out her arms. + +With a cry of joy he clasped her to him in a fierce ecstasy. All the +pent-up feelings in both their souls let loose at last. + +It was a moment which caused time and place and all other things to be +forgotten in a glory as great as though eternity had come. + +"My darling, my darling!" he murmured, kissing her hair and brow and +eyelids. "Oh! the hideous cruelty that it is all too late and this must +be good-bye." + +But Sabine clung to him half sobbing, telling him she could not bear it; +he must not leave her now. And so they stood clasped together, trembling +with love and misery. + +"Darling," at last he besought her, while he unclasped her tender hands +from round his neck. "Darling, do not tempt me--it is frightful pain, +but I must keep my word. You had reason once to think that I was an +uncontrollable brute, but you shall not be able to do so any more. I +would never respect myself--or you--again if I let you make me faithless +to Henry now. It is cruel sorrow, but we cannot think of ourselves; you +know, we used too lightly for our own ends what should have been an +awfully sacred tie. Do you remember, Sabine, we swore to God to love and +be faithful forever--not meaning a word we said--and now we are +punished--" A great sob shook his deep voice. + +"Darling child--I love you madly, madly, Sabine--dear little one--but +you and I are just driftwood, floating down the tide--not like Henry, +who is a splendid fellow of great use to England. It is impossible that +his whole life should be ruined and sacrificed for our selfishness. +Darling--" and he paused and drew her to him again fondly. "It is our +own fault. We have let the situation develop through indecision and, I +expect, wounded vanity and weakness--and now we must have strength to +abide by our words. Henry isn't young like we are, you see. I honestly +believe it would knock him right out if anything went wrong." + +But Sabine clung to him still. She could think of nothing but that she +loved him, and that he was her mate and her husband, and why must she be +torn from his side for the happiness of any other man. + +She was in an agony of grief. And then suddenly back to her came the +words of Père Anselme, heavy as the stroke of doom. Yes, she had taken +matters into her own hands and presumed to direct fate, and now all that +she could do was to be true to herself and to her word. Michael was +right; they must say good-bye. Henry must not be sacrificed. + +She raised her pitiful face from his breast where it was buried, and he +framed it in both his hands, and it would have been difficult to +recognize his bold eyes, so filled were they with tenderness and love. + +"Sabine," he commanded, fondly, "tell me that, after all, you have +forgiven me for making you stay that night. You know that we were +perfectly happy at the end of it, and it will be such pain for me to +have to remember all the rest of my life that you hold resentment. +Darling, if only you had stayed! Oh! I would have cherished you and +petted you," here he smoothed her hair, and murmured love words in her +ear with his wonderful charm, until Sabine felt that neither heaven nor +earth nor anything else mattered but only he. + +"Sweetheart," he went on, "we have got to part in a moment, but I just +must know if you love me a little in spite of everything. I _must know_, +my darling little girl." + +Then he held her to him again with immense tenderness, even in this +moment of agonized parting exulting in the intoxication of love he saw +that he had created in her eyes. There was no wile for the enslaving of +a woman's heart that he was not master of. The question as to whether he +ought to have employed them on this occasion is quite another matter, +and not for our consideration! He was doing what he thought was the only +honorable thing possible, giving up this glorious happiness, and he was +merely a strong, passionate human being after all. They were going to +part for the rest of their lives; he must make her tell him that she +loved him, he wanted to hear her say the words. + +"Sabine--little darling--answer me," he pleaded. + +She flung her arms round his neck, her whole body vibrating with +emotion. + +"I love you absolutely, Michael," she cried, "and I have always forgiven +you--I was mad to leave you, and I have longed often to go back. Oh! I +would sooner be dead than not to be your wife." + +They both were white now, the misery was so great. He knew he must go at +once, or he could never go at all. They were too racked with present +suffering to think what the future could contain, or of the growing +agony of the long weary days and how they could ever bear them. + +"My God, this is past endurance!" Michael exclaimed frantically. And +after a wild embrace, he almost flung her from him. Then, as she +staggered to a sofa she heard the door close, and knew that chapter of +her life was done. + +She sat there for a while gazing into the fire, too stunned with misery +even to think; but presently everything came to her with merciless +clearness. How small she had been all along! Instead of waiting until +she heard the truth, she had let a wretched paragraph in a newspaper +inflame her wounded vanity, so that she gave her promise to Henry there +and then--putting the rope round her neck with her own hands. And +afterwards, instead of being brave and true, wounded vanity again had +caused her to tighten the knot. She remembered Henry's words when he +had implored her to tell him what were the actual wishes of her +heart--and how she had cut off all retreat by her answer. She remembered +all his goodness to her and how she had accepted it as her due, making +him care for her more and more as each day came. + +"I have been a hopeless coward," she moaned, "a paltry, vain, hopeless +coward. I should have owned Michael was my husband immediately. Henry +could have got over it then, and now we might be happy--but it is too +late; there is nothing to be done----!" + +Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed brokenly. "Oh, my love, +my love--and I did not even now tell you all." + +The clock struck one--supper would be beginning and she must go down. If +Michael could bear this agony and behave like a gentleman, she also must +play her part with dignity. Henry would be waiting at the bottom of the +stairs. + +She went rapidly to her room and removed all traces of emotion, and then +she returned to the hall by the way she had come. + +"I was growing quite anxious, dearest," Lord Fordyce told her, as he +advanced to meet her when she came down the stairs. "I feared you were +ill, and was just coming to find you. Let us go straight in to supper +now--you look rather pale. I must take care of you and give you some +champagne," and he placed her hand in his arm fondly and led her along. + +[Illustration: "'He is often in some scrape--something must have +culminated to-night'"] + +They found chairs which had been kept for them at a centre table, near +their hostess and Moravia, and here they sat down. Michael was nowhere +in sight, but presently he came in with one of the house-party, and Mrs. +Forster beckoned them to her--and thus it happened that he was again at +Sabine's side. His eyes had a reckless, stony stare in them, and he +confined his conversation to the lady he had taken in. And Henry, who +was watching him, whispered to Sabine: + +"He is often in some scrape, Michael--something must have culminated +to-night. I have never seen him looking so haggard and pale." + +Sabine drank down her glass of champagne; she thought she could no +longer support the situation. She almost felt she hated Henry and his +devotion,--it was paralyzing her, suffocating her--crushing her life. +Michael never spoke to her--beyond a casual word--and at length they all +went back to the ball-room, where an extra was being played--Michael, +for a moment, standing by her side. Then a sudden madness came to them +as their eyes met, and he held out his arm. + +"This is my dance, I think, Mrs. Howard," he said with careless +sangfroid, and he whirled her away into the middle of the room. They +both were perfect dancers and never stopped in their wild career until +the music ended. It was a two-step, and all the young people clapped +for the band to go on. So once more they started with the throng. They +had not spoken a single word; it was a strange comfort to them just to +be together--half anguish, half bliss--but as the last bars died away, +Michael whispered in her ear: + +"I am going to say good-night to Rose. She is accustomed to my ways. I +have ordered my motor, and I am going home to-night--I cannot bear it +another single minute. If I stayed until to-morrow I should break my +word. I love you to absolute distraction--Good-bye," and without waiting +for her to answer he left her close to Henry and turning was lost in the +crowd. + +Suddenly the whole room reeled to Sabine, the lights danced in her eyes, +and a rushing sound came in her ears. She would have fallen forward only +Lord Fordyce caught her arm, while he cried, in solicitous +consternation: + +"My dearest, you have danced too much. You feel faint--let me take you +out of all this into the cool." + +But Sabine pulled herself together and assured him she was all +right--she had been giddy for a moment--he need not distress himself; +and as they walked into the conservatory she protested vehemently that +she had never been at so delightful a ball. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +A sobbing wind and a weeping rain beat round the walls of Arranstoun, +and the great gray turrets and towers made a grim picture against the +November sky, darkening toward late afternoon, as its master came +through the postern gate and across the lawn to his private rooms. He +had been tramping the moorland beyond the park without Binko or a gun, +his thoughts too tempestuous to bear with even them. For the letter to +Messrs. McDonald and Malden had gone, and the first act of the tragedy +of his freedom had been begun. + +It was a colossal price to pay for honor and friendship, but while they +had been brigands and robbers for hundreds of years, the Arranstouns had +not been dishonorable men, and had once or twice in their history done a +great and generous thing. + +Michael was not of the character which lauded itself, indeed he was +never introspective nor thought of himself at all. He was just strong +and living and breathing, his actions governed by an inherited sense of +the fitness of things for a gentleman's code, which, unless it was +swamped, as on one occasion it had been by violent passion, very seldom +led him wrong. + +Now he determined never to look ahead or picture the blankness of his +days as they must become with no hope of ever seeing Sabine. He supposed +vaguely that the pain would grow less in time. He should have to play a +lot of games, and take tremendous interest in his tenants and his +property and perhaps presently go into Parliament. And if all that +failed, he could make some expedition into the wilds again. He was too +healthy and well-balanced to have even in this moment of deep suffering +any morbid ideas. + +When he had changed his soaking garments, he came back into his +sitting-room and pulled Binko upon his knees. The dog and his fat +wrinkles seemed some kind of comfort to him. + +"She remembered you, Binko, old man," he said, caressing the creature's +ears. "She is the sweetest little darling in all the world. You would +have loved her soft brown hair and her round dimpled cheek. And she +loves your master, Binko, just as he loves her; she has forgiven him for +everything of long ago--and if she could, she would come back here, and +live with us and make us divinely happy--as we believed she was going to +do once when we were young." + +And then he thought suddenly of Henry's home--the stately Elizabethan +house amidst luxuriant, peaceful scenery--not grim and strong like +Arranstoun--though she preferred gaunt castles, evidently, since she +had bought Héronac for her own. But the thought of Henry's home and her +adorning it brought too intimate pictures to his imagination; they +galled him so that at last he could not bear it and started to his feet. + +It was possible to part from her and go away, but it was not possible to +contemplate calmly the fact of her being the wife of another man. +Material things came always more vividly to Michael than spiritual ones, +and the vision he had conjured up was one of Sabine encircled by Henry's +arms. This was unbearable--and before he was aware of it he found he was +clenching his fists in rage, and that Binko was sitting on his haunches, +blinking at him, with his head on one side in his endeavors to +understand. + +Michael pulled himself together and laughed bitterly aloud. + +"I must just never think of it, old man," he told the dog, "or I shall +go mad." + +Then he sat down again. With what poignant regret he looked back upon +his original going to China! If only he had stayed and gone after her, +that next day, and seized her again, and brought her back here to this +room--they would have had five years of happiness. She was sweeter now +far than she had been then, and he could have watched her developing, +instead of her coming to perfection all alone. That under these +circumstances she might never have acquired that polish of mind, and +strange dignity and reserve of manner which was one of her greatest +attractions, did not strike him--as it has been plainly said, he was not +given to analysis in his judgment of things. + +"I wish she had had a baby, Binko," he remarked, when once more seated +in his chair. "Then she would have been obliged to return at once of her +own accord." + +Binko grunted and slobbered his acquiescence and sympathy, with his wise +old fat head poked into his master's arm. + +"You are trying to tell me that as I had gone off to China, she couldn't +have done that in any case, you old scoundrel. And of course you are +right. But she did not try to, you know. There was no letter from her +among the hundreds which were waiting for me at Hong Kong--or here when +I got back. She could have sent me a cable, and I would have returned +like a shot from anywhere. But she did not want me then; she wanted to +be free--and now, when she does, her hands are already tied. The whole +cursed thing is her own fault, and that is what is the biggest pain, old +dog." + +Then his thoughts wandered back to their scene in Rose Forster's +sitting-room--that was pleasure indeed! And he leaned back in his big +chair and let himself dream. He could hear her words telling him that +she loved him and could feel her soft lips pressed in passion to his +own. + +"My God! I can't bear it," he cried at last, once more clenching his +hands. + + * * * * * + +And so it went on through days and nights of anguish, the aspects of the +case repeating themselves in endless persistence, until with all his +will and his strong health and love of sport and vigorous work, the +agony of desire for Sabine grew into an obsession. + +Whatever sins he had committed in his life, indeed his punishment had +come. + +Sabine, for her part, found the days not worth living. Nothing in life +or nature stays at a standstill; if stagnation sets in, then death +comes--and so it was that her emotions for Michael did not remain the +same, but grew and augmented more and more as the certainty that they +were parted for ever forced itself upon her brain. + +They had not been back in London a day when Mr. Parsons announced to her +that at last all was going well. Mr. Arranstoun had put the matter in +train and soon she would be free. And, shrewd American that he was, he +wondered why she should get so pale. The news did not appear to be such +a very great pleasure to her after all! Her greatest concern seemed to +be that he should arrange that there should be no notice of anything in +the papers. + +"I particularly do not wish Lord Fordyce ever to know that my name was +Arranstoun," she said. "I will pay anything if it is necessary to stop +reports--and if such things are possible to do in this country?" + +But Mr. Parsons could hold out no really encouraging hopes of this. No +details would probably be known, but that Michael Arranstoun had married +a Sabine Delburg and now divorced her would certainly be announced in +the Scotch journals, where the Arranstouns and their Castle were of such +interest to the public. + +"If only I had been called Mary Smith!" Sabine almost moaned. "If Lord +Fordyce sees this he must realize that, although he knows me as Sabine +Howard, I was probably Sabine Delburg." + +"I should think you had better inform his lordship yourself at once. +There is no disgrace in the matter. Arranstoun is a very splendid name," +Mr. Parsons ventured to remind her. + +But Sabine shut her firm mouth. Not until it became absolutely necessary +would she do this thing. + +Henry's company now had no longer power to soothe her; she found herself +crushing down sudden inclinations to be capricious to him or even +unkind--and then she would feel full of remorse and regret when she saw +the pain in his fond eyes. She was thankful that they were returning to +Paris, and then she meant to go straight to Héronac, telling him he must +see her no more until she was free. It was the month of the greatest +storms there; it would suit her exactly and it was her very own. She +need not act for only Madame Imogen and Père Anselme. But when she +thought of this latter a sensation of discomfort came. How could she +read in peace with the dear old man, who was so keen and so subtle he +would certainly divine that all was not well? And ever his sentence +recurred to her: "Remember always, my daughter, that _le Bon Dieu_ +settles things for us mortals if we leave it all to Him, but if we take +the helm in the direction of our own affairs, it may be that He will let +circumstance draw us into rough waters." And then, that as she had taken +the helm she must abide by her word. Bitterness and regret were her +portion--in a far greater degree than after that other crisis of her +life, when its realities had come to her, and she knew she must bear +them alone. She had been too young then to understand half the +possibilities of mental pain, and also there was no finality about +anything--all might develop into sunshine again. Now she had the most +cruel torture of all, the knowledge that she herself by her wilfulness +and pride had pulled down the blinds and brought herself into darkness, +and that there was not anything to be done. + +Nothing could have been more unhappy than was the state of these two +young people in their separate homes. In the old days when she used to +try and banish the too lenient thoughts of Michael, she had always the +picture of his selfishness and violent passion to call up to her +aid--but that was blotted out now, and in its place there was the memory +that it was he, not she, who had behaved nobly and decided to sacrifice +all happiness to be true to his friend. Sometimes when she first got +back to Héronac she, too, allowed herself to dream of their good-bye, +and the cruel sweetness of that brief moment of bliss, and she would go +through strange thrills and quivers and stretch out her arms in the +firelight and whisper his name aloud--"Michael--my dear love!" + +She could not even bear the watching, affectionate eyes of Madame Imogen +and sent her to Paris on a month's holiday. The Père Anselme had been +away when she arrived, at the deathbed of an old sister at Versailles, +so she was utterly alone in her grim castle, with only the waves. + +The once looked-for letters from Henry were a dreaded tie now. She would +have to answer them!--and as his grew more tender and loving, so hers +unconsciously became more cold, with a note of bitterness in them +sometimes of which she was unaware. + +And Henry, in Paris with Moravia, wondered and grieved, and grew sick at +heart as the days went on. He had let his political ambitions slide, and +lingered there as being nearer his adored one, instead of going home. + +Now love was playing his sad pranks with all of them, and the Princess +Torniloni was receiving her share. The constant companionship of Henry +had not made her feelings more calm. She was really in love with him +with all that was best and greatest in her sweet nature, and it was +changing her every idea. She was even getting a little vicarious +happiness out of being a sympathetic friend, and as he grew sad and +restless, so she became more gentle and tender, and watched over him +like a fond mother with a child. She would not look ahead or face the +fact that he had grown too dear; she was living her Indian summer, she +told herself, and would not see its end. + +"How awfully good you are to me, Princess," he told her one afternoon, +as they walked together in the bright frosty air about a week after +Sabine had left them. "I never have known so kind a woman. You seem to +think of gentle and sympathetic things to say before one even asks for +your sympathy. How greatly I misjudged your nation before I knew you and +Sabine!" + +"No, I don't think you did misjudge us in general," she replied. "Lots +of us are horrid when we are on the make, and those are the sorts you +generally meet in England. We would not go there, you see, if it was not +to get something. We can have everything material as good, if not +better, in our own country, only we can't get your repose, or your +atmosphere, and we are growing so much cleverer and richer every year +that we hate to think there is something we can't buy, and so we come +over to England and set to work to grab it from you!" + +"How delightful you are!" + +"I am only echoing Sabine, who has all the quaint ideas. In that pretty +young baby's head she thinks out evolution, and cause and effect, and +heredity, and every sort of deep tiresome thing!" + +"Have you heard from her to-day, Princess?" Henry's voice was a little +anxious. She had not written to him. + +"Yes." + +"She seems to be in rather a queer mood. What has caused it, do you +know, dear friend?" + +"I have not the slightest idea--it has puzzled me, too," and Moravia's +voice was perplexed. "Ever since the ball at your sister's she has been +changed in some way. Had you any quarrel or--jar, or difference of +opinion? Don't think I am asking from curiosity--I am really concerned." + +Henry's distinguished face grew pinched-looking; it cut like a knife to +have his vague unadmitted fears put into words. + +"We had no discussions of any kind. She was particularly sweet, and +spent nearly the whole evening with me, as you know. Is it something +about her husband, do you think, which is troubling her? But it cannot +be that, because in her letter of two days ago she said the proceedings +had been started and she would be free perhaps by Christmastime, as all +was being hurried through." + +Moravia gave an exclamation of surprise. + +"Sabine is certainly very strange. Can you believe it? She has never +mentioned the matter to me since we returned, and once when I spoke of +it, she put the subject aside. She did not 'wish to remember it,' she +said." + +"It is evidently that, then, and we must have patience with the dear +little girl. The husband must have been an unmitigated wretch to have +left such a deep scar upon her life." + +"But she never saw him from the day after she was married!" Moravia +exclaimed; and then pulled herself up short, glancing at Henry +furtively. What had Sabine told him? Probably no more than she had told +her--she felt the subject was dangerous ground, and it would be wiser to +avoid further discussion upon the matter. So she remarked casually: + +"No, after all, I do not believe it has anything to do with the husband; +it is just a mood. She has always had moods for years. I know she is +looking forward awfully to our all going to her for Christmas. Then you +will be able to clear away all your clouds." + +But this conversation left Henry very troubled, and Père Anselme's words +about the cinders still being red kept recurring to him with increasing +pain. + +Sabine had been at Héronac for ten days when the old priest got back to +his flock. It was toward the end of November, and the weather was one +raging storm of rain and wind. The surf boiled round the base of the +Castle and the waves rose as giant foes ready to attack. It comforted +the mistress of it to stand upon the causeway bridge and get soaking +wet--or to sit in one of the mullioned windows of her great sitting-room +and watch the angry water thundering beneath. And here the Père Anselme +found her on the morning after his return. + +She rose quickly in gladness to meet him, and they sat down together +again. + +She spoke her sympathy for this bereavement which had caused his +absence, but he said with grave peace: + +"She is well, my sister--a martyr in life, she has paid her debt. I have +no grief." + +So they talked about the garden, and of the fisher-folk, and their +winter needs. There had been a wreck of a fishing boat, and a wife and +children would be hungry but for the kindness of their Dame d'Héronac. + +Then there was a pause--not one of those calm, happy pauses of other +days, when each one dreamed, but a pause wrought with unease. The Curé's +old black eyes had a questioning expression, and then he asked: + +"And what is it, my daughter? Your heart is not at rest." + +But Sabine could not answer him. Her long-controlled anguish won the +day and, as once before, she burst into a passion of tears. + +The Père Anselme did not seek to comfort her; he knew women well--she +would be calmer presently, and would tell him what her sorrow was. He +only murmured some words in Latin and looked out on the sea. + +Presently the sobs ceased and the Dame d'Héronac rose quickly and left +the room; and when she had mastered her emotion, she came back again. + +"My father," she said, sitting on a low stool at his knees, "I have been +very foolish and very wicked--but I cannot talk about it. Let us begin +to read." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Meanwhile the divorce affair went on apace. There was no defence, of +course, and Michael's lawyers were clever and his own influence was +great. So freedom would come before the end of term probably, if not +early in the New Year, and Henry felt he might begin to ask his beloved +one to name a date when he could call her his own, and endeavor to take +every shadow from her life. + +His letters all this month had been more than extra tender and devoted, +each one showing that his whole desire was only for Sabine's welfare, +and each one, as she read it, put a fresh stab into her heart and seemed +like an extra fetter in the chain binding her to him. + +She knew she was really the mainspring of his life and she could not, +did not, dare to face what might be the consequence of her parting from +him. Besides, the die was cast and she must have the courage to go +through with it. + +Mr. Parsons had let her know definitely that the bare fact of her name +would appear in the papers, and nothing more; and at first the thought +came to her that if it had made no impression upon Henry's memory, when +he must have read it originally in the notice of the marriage, why +should it strike him now? But this was too slender a thread to hang hope +upon, and it would be wiser and better for them all if when Lord Fordyce +came with Moravia and Girolamo and Mr. Cloudwater at Christmas, she told +him the whole truth. The dread of this augmented day by day, until it +became a nightmare and she had to use the whole force of her will to +keep even an outward semblance of calm. + +Thoughts of Michael she dismissed as well as she could, but she had +passionate longings to go and take out the blue enamel locket from her +despatch-box and look at it once more; she would not permit herself to +indulge in this weakness, though. Her whole days were ruled with +sternest discipline until she became quite thin, and the Père Anselme +grew worried about her. + +A fortnight went by; it was growing near to Christmastime--but the +atmosphere of Héronac contained no peace, and one bleak afternoon the +old priest paced the long walk in the garden with knitted brows. He did +not feel altogether sure as to what was his duty. He was always on the +side of leaving things in the hand of the good God, but it might be that +he would be selected to be an instrument of fate, since he seemed the +only detached person with any authority in the affair. + +His Dame d'Héronac had tried hard to be natural and her old self, he +could see that, but her taste in their reading had been over much +directed to Heine, she having brought French translations of this poet's +works back with her from Paris. + +Twice also had she asked him to recite to her De Musset's "_La Nuit de +Décembre_." He did not consider these as satisfactory symptoms. There +was no question in his astute mind as to what was the general cause of +his beloved lady's unrest. The change in her had begun to take place +ever since the fatal visit of the two Englishmen. Herein lay matter for +thought. For the very morning before their arrival she had been +particularly bright and gay, telling him of her intended action in +making arrangements to free herself from her empty marriage bonds, and +apparently contemplating a new life with Lord Fordyce with satisfaction. +Père Anselme was a great student of Voltaire and looked upon his tale of +"Zadig" as one from which much benefit could be derived. And now he +began to put the method of this citizen of Babylon into practice, never +having heard of the immortal Sherlock Holmes. + +The end of his cogitations directed upon this principle brought him two +concrete facts. + +Number one: That Sabine had been deeply affected by the presence of the +second Englishman--the handsome and vital young man--and number two: +That she was now certainly regretting that she was going to obtain her +divorce. Further use of Zadig's deductive method produced the +conviction that, as an abstract young man would be equally out of reach +were she still bound to her husband--or married to Lord Fordyce--and +could only be obtained were she divorced--some other reason for her +distaste and evident depression about this latter state coming to her +must be looked for, and could only be found in the supposition that the +Seigneur of Arranstoun might be himself her husband! Why, then, this +mystery? Why had not he and she told the truth? Zadig's counsel could +not help him to unravel this point, and he continued to pace the walk +with impatient sighs. + +He was even more of a gentleman than of a priest, and therefore forbore +to question Sabine directly, but that afternoon, with the intention of +directing her mind into facing eventualities, he had talked of Lord +Fordyce, and what would be the duties of her future position as his +wife. Sabine replied without enthusiasm in her tones, while her words +gave a picture of all that any woman's heart could desire: + +"He is a very fine character, it would seem," the Père Anselme said. +"And he loves you with a deep devotion." + +Sabine clasped her hands suddenly, as though the thought gave her +physical pain. + +"He loves me too much, Father; no woman should be loved like that; it +fills her with fear." + +"Fear of what?" + +"Fear of failing to come up to the standard of his ideal of her--fear +of breaking his heart." + +"I told him in the beginning it were wiser to be certain all cinders +were cold before embarking upon fresh ties," Père Anselme remarked +meditatively, "and he assured me that he would ascertain facts, and +whether or no you felt he could make you happy." + +"And he did," Sabine's voice was strained. "And I told him that he +could--if he would help me to forget--and I gave him my word and let +him--kiss me, Father--so I am bound to him irrevocably, as you can see." + +"It would seem so." + +There was a pause, and then the priest got up and held his thin brown +hands to the blaze, his eyes averted from her while he spoke. + +"You must look to the end, my daughter, and ask yourself whether or no +you will be strong enough to play your part in the years which are +coming--since, from what I can judge, the embers are not yet cold. +Temptation will arm for you with increasing strength. What then?" + +"I do--not know," Sabine whispered hardly aloud. + +"It will be necessary to be quite sure, my daughter, before you again +make vows." + +And then he turned the conversation abruptly, which was his way when he +intended what he had said to sink deeply into the heart of his listener. + +But just as he was leaving after tea he drew the heavy curtains back +from one of the great windows. All was inky darkness, and the roaring of +the sea with its breakers foaming beneath them, came up like the +menacing voices of an angry crowd. + +"The good God can calm even this rough water," he said. "It would be +well that you ask for guidance, my child, and when it has come to you, +hesitate no more." + +Then, making his sign of blessing, he rapidly strode to the door, +leaving the Dame d'Héronac crouched upon the velvet window-seat, peering +out upon the waves. + +And Michael, numb with misery and regret, was deciding to go to Paris +for Christmas. The memories at Arranstoun he could not endure. + +The great suffering that he was going through was having some effect +upon his mind, refining him in all ways, forcing him to think and to +reason out all problems of life. The great dreams which used to come to +him sometimes when in Kashmire during solitary hours of watching for +sport returned. He would surely do something vast with his life--when +this awful pain should be past. What, he could not decide--but something +which would take him out of himself. He did not think he could stay in +England just at first after Sabine should have married Henry--the +chances of running across her would be too great, since they both knew +the same people. + +Henry would read about the divorce and the name "Sabine Delburg" in the +paper, too, and would then know everything, even if Sabine had not +already informed him. But he almost thought she must have done so, +because he had had no word lately from his old friend. Thus the time +went on for all of them, and none but the priest felt any premonition +that Christmas would certainly bring a climax in all of their fates. + +Lord Fordyce had hardly ever spent this season away from his mother, who +was a very old lady now, and deeply devoted to him; but the imperative +desire to be near his adored overcame any other feeling, and he, with +the Princess and her son and father, was due to arrive at Héronac on the +day before Christmas Eve. + +He ran across Michael at the Ritz the night before he left Paris. They +were both dining with parties, and nodded across the room, and then +afterwards in the hall had a few words. + +"To-morrow I am going down to Héronac, Michael," Henry said. "Where do +you intend to spend the festive season? Here, I suppose?" + +"Yes, it is as good as anywhere," Michael returned. "I felt I could not +stand the whole thing at Arranstoun. I have been away from England so +long, I must get used to these old anniversaries again gradually. Here +one is free." + +They looked into each other's faces and Henry noticed that Michael had +not quite got his old exuberant expression of the vivid joy of life--he +was paler and even a little haggard, if so splendid a creature could +look that! + +"I suppose he has been going the pace over here," Henry thought, and +wondered why Michael's manner should be a little constrained. Then they +shook hands with their usual cordiality and said good-night. And Michael +prepared to go on to a supper party, with a feeling of wild rebellion in +his heart. The sight of his old friend and the knowledge that he was on +his way to join Sabine drove him almost mad again. + +"I suppose they will be formally engaged in the New Year. I wonder how +my little girl is bearing it--if she is half as miserable as I am, God +comfort her," he cried to himself; and then he felt he could not stand +Miss Daisy Van der Horn, and getting into his motor he told the +chauffeur to drive into the Bois instead of to the supper. + +Here among the dark trees he could think. It was all perfectly +impossible, and no happiness could possibly come to Henry either--unless +he succeeded in consoling Sabine when she should be his wife. And this +was perhaps the bitterest thought of all--that she should ever be +consoled as Henry's wife! + +Then the extreme strangeness of Henry's still being in ignorance of his +and Sabine's relations struck him. She had evidently not yet had the +courage to tell the truth, and so the thing would come as a shock--and +what would happen then? Who could say? In any case, Henry could not +feel he had not come up to the scratch. Would Sabine ever tell Henry the +whole story? He felt sure she would not. But how could things be +expected to go on with the years? It was all unthinkable now that it had +come so close. + +It was about five o'clock on the next afternoon that the Princess and +her party arrived at Héronac. Sabine was waiting for them in the great +hall, and greeted them with feverish delight, but Henry's worshipping +eyes took in at once the fact that she was greatly changed. She made a +tremendous fuss over Girolamo, for whom a most sumptuous tea had been +prepared in his own nurseries, and Henry thought how sweet she was with +children and how divinely happy they would be in the future, when they +had some of their own! + +But what had altered his beloved? Her face had lost its baby outline, it +seemed, and her violet eyes were full of deeper shadows than even they +had been in the first few days of their acquaintance at Carlsbad. He +must find all this out for himself directly they could be alone. + +This chance, however, did not seem likely to be vouchsafed to him, for +on the plea of having such heaps to talk over with Moravia, Sabine +accompanied that lady to her room and did not appear again until they +were all assembled in the big _salon_ for dinner, where Madame Imogen, +who had returned the day before, was doing her best to add to the gaiety +of the party by her jolly remarks. + +The lady of Héronac had hardly been able to control herself as she +waited for her guests' arrival and felt that to rush at Girolamo would +be her only hope. For that morning the post had brought the news that +the divorce would be granted by the end of January, and she would be +free! She had felt very faint as she had read Mr. Parsons' letter. No +matter how one might be expecting an axe to fall, when it does, the +shock must seem immense. + +Sabine lay there and moaned in her bed. Then over her crept a fierce +resentment against Henry. Why should she be sacrificed to him? He was +forty years old, and had lived his life; and she was young, and had not +yet really begun to enjoy her's. How would she be able to bear it; or to +act even complaisance when every fiber of her being was turning in mad +passion and desire to Michael, her love? + +Then her sense of justice resumed its sway. Henry at least was not to +blame--no one was to blame but her own self. And as she had proudly +agreed with Michael that every one must come up to the scratch, she must +fulfil her part. There was no use in being dramatic and deciding upon a +certain course as being a noble and disinterested one, and then in not +having the pluck to carry it through. She had prayed for guidance +indeed, and no light had come, beyond the feeling that she must stick +to her word. + +The report of the case would be in the Scotch papers, and Michael +Arranstoun being such a person of consequence it would probably be just +announced in the English journals, too, and Henry would see it. She +could delay no longer; he must be told the truth in the next few days. + +The sight of his kind, distinguished face shining with love had unnerved +her. She must tell him with all seeming indifference, and then close the +scene as quickly as she could. + +While Sabine and Moravia talked in the latter's room, Moravia was full +of discomfort and anxiety. Her much loved friend appeared so strange. +She seemed to speak feverishly, as it were, to be trying to keep the +conversation upon the lightest subjects; and when Moravia asked her how +the divorce was going, she put the question aside and said that they +would speak of tiresome things like that when Christmas was over! + +"But," explained the Princess, "I don't call it at all tiresome. It +means your freedom, Sabine, and then you will be able to marry Henry. He +absolutely worships the ground you tread on, and if anything had gone +wrong, I think it would have simply killed him quite." + +"Yes, I know," returned Sabine. "That thought is with me day and night." + +"What do you mean, darling?" + +"I mean that Henry's love frightens me, Morri. How shall I ever be able +to live up to being the ideal creature he thinks that I am?" and Sabine +gave a forced laugh. + +"You are not a bad sort, you know," the Princess told her. "A man would +be very hard to please if he was not quite satisfied with you!" + +Moravia's own pain about the whole thing never clouded her sense of +justice. Henry's love for her friend had been manifest from the very +beginning, so she had never had any illusions or doubt about it; and if +she had been so weak and foolish as to allow herself to fall in love +with him, she must bear it and not be mean. Sabine certainly was not to +blame. + +"I--hope I shall satisfy him," Sabine sighed; "but I do not know. What +does satisfy a man? Tell me, Moravia--you who understand them." + +"It depends upon the man," and the Princess looked thoughtful. "I know +now that if I had been clever I could have satisfied Girolamo for ages, +by appearing to be always just a little out of his reach, so as to keep +his hunting instinct alive. When a man is a very strong, passionate +creature like that, it is the only way--make him scheme to get you to be +lovely to him, make him wait, and never be sure if you are going to let +him kiss you or no; and if you adore him really yourself, _hide it_, and +let him feel always that he has to use his wits and all his charms to +keep you. Oh! I could have been so happy if I had known these things in +time!" + +"Yes, Morri, but Henry is not--like that. How must I satisfy him?" + +Moravia lay back in her chair and discoursed meditatively. + +"It is only the very noblest natures in men that women can be perfectly +frank with, and as good and kind and tender as they feel they would like +to be. Lord Fordyce is one of these. You could load him with devotion +and love, and he would never take advantage of you; but just to satisfy +him, Sabine, you need only be you, I expect!" and she looked fondly at +her friend. "Though, darling, I tell you, if you were too nice to him, +even he might turn upon you some day, probably. No woman can afford to +be really devoted to a man; they can't help being mean, and immediately +thinking the poor thing is of less consequence to please than some +capricious cat they cannot obtain!" + +Sabine nodded, and Moravia went on: "But you need not fear! Henry will +adore you always--because you really don't care!" and she sighed a +little bitterly at the contrariness of things. + +"It is good not to care, then?" + +"Yes, I think so; for happiness in a home, the woman ought always to +love a little the less." + +"Well, we shall be very happy, then," and Sabine echoed Moravia's sigh, +but much more bitterly. + +"You will be good to him, dearest?" Moravia asked rather anxiously. "He +is the grandest character I have ever met in my life." + +"Yes, I will be good to him." + +"Just think!" Moravia, who had domestic instincts, now went on, in spite +of the personal anguish she was feeling about her own love for Henry. +"You may have the happiness soon of being the mother of a lovely little +son like Girolamo!" and she gave a great sigh as she looked into the +fire. + +Sabine stiffened all over, and an expression of horrified repugnance and +dismay grew in her face, and she drew her breath in with a little gasp. +She had not faced this thought before, and she could not bear it now, +and got up quickly, saying she must go off and dress or she would be +late for dinner. + +Moravia looked after her, full of wonder and foreboding for Henry. What +happiness could he expect if the woman he adored felt like that! + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Christmas Eve was particularly frosty and bright. The sun poured through +Sabine's windows high up when she woke, but her heart was heavy as lead. +She had not had a single word alone with Henry the night before, and +knew the dreaded _tête-à-tête_ must come. She did not set herself to +tell him who her husband was on this particular morning--about that she +must be guided by events--but she could not make barriers between them, +and must allow him to come to her sitting-room. He did, about half-past +ten o'clock, his face full of radiance and love. She had always +steadfastly refused to take any presents from him, but he had had the +most beautiful flowers sent from Paris for her, and they had just +arrived. She was taking them out of their box herself. This made a +pretext for her to express delighted thanks, and for a little she played +her part so well that all Henry's doubts were set at rest, and he told +himself that he had been imaginative and foolish to think that anything +was changed in her. + +He helped her to put all the lovely blooms into vases, so happy to +think they should give her pleasure. And all the while he talked to her +lovingly and soothingly, until Sabine could have screamed aloud, so full +of remorse and constraint she felt. If he would only be disagreeable or +unkind! + +At last, among the giant violets, they came upon one bunch of white +ones. These she took and separated, and, making them into two, she stuck +one into her belt and gave Henry the other to put into his coat. + +"Won't you fasten them in for me, dearest?" he said, his whole +countenance full of passionate love. + +She came nearer, and with hasty fingers put the flowers into his +buttonhole. + +The temptation was too great for Henry. He put his arm round her and +drew her to his side, while he bent and kissed her sweet red mouth. + +She did not resist him or start away, but she grew white as death, and +he was conscious that, as he clasped her close, a repressed shudder ran +through her whole frame. + +With a little cry of anguish he put her from him, and searched with +miserable eyes for some message in her face. But her lids were lowered +and her lips were quivering with some pain. + +"My darling, what is it? Sabine, you shrank from me! What does it mean?" + +"It means--nothing, Henry." And the poor child tried to smile. "Only +that I am very foolish and silly, and I do not believe I like +caresses--much." And then, to make things sound more light, she went on: +"You see, I have had so few of them in my life. You must be patient with +me until I learn to--understand." + +Of course he would be patient, he assured her, and asked her to forgive +him if he had been brusque, his refined voice full of adoring +contrition. He caught at any gossamer thread to stifle the obvious +thought that if she loved him even ever so little he would not have to +accustom her to caresses; she would long ago have been willing to learn +all of their meanings in his arms!--and this was only the second time +during their acquaintance that she had even let him kiss her! + +But of her own free will she now came and leaned her head against his +shoulder. + +"Henry," she pleaded, "I am not really as I know you think I am--a +gentle and loving woman. There are all sorts of fierce sides in my +character which you have not an idea of, and I am only beginning to +guess at them myself. I do not know that I shall ever be able to make +you happy. I am sure I shall not unless you will be contented with very +little." + +"The smallest tip of your finger is more precious to me than all the +world, darling!" he protested with heat. "I will be patient. I will be +anything you wish. I will not even touch you again until you give me +leave. Oh! I adore you so--Sabine, I will bear anything if only you do +not mean that you want to send me away." + +The anguish and fond worship in his face wrung her heart. She started +from him and then, returning, held out her arms, while she cried with a +pitiful gasp, almost as of a sob in her throat: + +"Yes--take me and kiss me--kiss me until I don't feel!--I mean until I +feel--Henry, you said you would make me forget!" + +He encircled her with his arm and led her to a sofa, murmuring every vow +of passionate love; and here he sat by her and kissed her and caressed +her to his heart's content, while she remained apparently passive, but +still as white as the violets in her dress, and inwardly she could +hardly keep from screaming, the torture of it was so great. At last she +could bear no more, but disengaging herself from his arms she slipped on +to the floor, and there sat upon a low footstool, with her back to the +fire, shivering as though with icy cold. + +Lord Fordyce's instincts were too fine not to realize something of the +meaning of this scene. Although not greatly learned in the ways of +women, he had kissed them often before in his life, and none had +received his caresses like that. But since she did not repulse him, he +must not despair. She perhaps was, as she said, unused to fond +dalliance, and he must be more controlled, and wait. So with an inward +sense of pain and chill in his heart, he set himself to divert her +otherwise, talking of the books which they both loved, and so at last, +when Nicholas announced that déjeuner was ready, some color and +animation had come back to her face. + +But when she was alone in her room she looked out of the high window and +passionately threw up her arms. + +"I cannot bear it again!" she wailed fiercely. "I feel an utterly +degraded wretch." + +At breakfast the Père Anselme watched her intently while he kept his +aloof air. He felt that something extra had disturbed her. He was to +stay in the house with them on Christmas night, because it was so cold +for him to return to his home after dinner, and Sabine could not +possibly spare him; she assured him he must be with them at every meal. +His wit was so apt, and with Madame Imogen's aid he kept the ball +rolling as merrily as he could. But he, no less than Henry, was +conscious that all was not well. + +And afterwards, as he went towards the village, he communed with +himself, his kind heart torn with the deep-seated look of resignation in +the eyes of his Dame d'Héronac. + +"She is too young to be made to suffer it," he said, half aloud. "The +good God cannot ask so much, as a price for wilfulness; and if this man +has grown as distasteful to her as her face seems to suggest, nothing +but misery could come from their dual life." It was all very cruel to +the Englishman, no doubt, but where was the wisdom of letting two people +suffer? Surely it was better to let only one pay the stakes, and if this +thing went on, both would have equal unhappiness, and be tied together +as two animals in a menagerie cage. + +No gentleman should accept such a sacrifice. If the Lord Fordyce did not +realize for himself that something had changed things, it must be that +he, Gaston d'Héronac, the Père Anselme, must intervene. It might be very +fine and noble to stick to one's word, but it became quixotic if to do +so could only bring misery to oneself and one's mate! + +The good priest stalked on to his _presbytère_, and then to his church, +to see that all should be ready for _réveillon_ that night, and he was +returning to the château to tea when he met Henry taking a walk. + +After lunch Sabine had gone off with Moravia to Girolamo's nurseries, +and Lord Fordyce had felt he must go out and get some air. Mr. +Cloudwater had started with Madame Imogen in the motor on a commission +to their little town directly they had all left the dining-room. Thus +Henry was alone. + +He greeted the Père Anselme gladly. The old priest's cultivated mind was +to him always a source of delight. + +So he turned back and walked with him into the garden and along by the +sea wall, instead of across the causeway and to the house. This was the +doing of the Père Anselme, for he felt now might be his time. + +Henry had been growing more and more troubled while he had been out by +himself. He could not disguise the fact that there was some great change +in Sabine, and now his anxious mood craved sympathy and counsel from +this her great friend. + +"Madame Howard does not look quite well, Father," he remarked, after +they had pulled some modern philosophies to pieces, and there had been a +pause. "She is so nervous--what is the cause of it, do you know? Perhaps +this place does not suit her in the winter. It is so very cold." + +"Yes, it is cold--but that is not the reason." And the Père Anselme drew +closer his old black cloak. "There are other and stronger causes for the +state in which we find the Dame Sabine." + +Henry peered into his face anxiously in the gray light--it was four +o'clock, the day would soon be gone. He knew that these words contained +ominous meaning, and his voice was rather unsteady as he asked: + +"What are the reasons, Father? Please tell me if you are at liberty to +do so. To me the welfare of this dear lady is all that matters in life." + +The Curé of Héronac cleared his throat, and then he said gently: + +"I spoke once before to you about the cinders and as to whether or no +they were still red. That is what causes her to be restless--she has +found that they are yet alight." + +Lord Fordyce was a brave man, but he grew very pale. It seemed that +suddenly all the fears which his heart had sheltered, though would not +own as facts, were rising before him like giant skeletons, concrete and +distinct. + +"But the divorce is going well!" he exclaimed a little passionately, his +hurt was so great. "She told me so last night; she will be free some +time in January, and will then be my wife." + +His happiness should not be torn from him without a desperate fight. + +The priest's voice was very sad as he answered: + +"That is so. She will, no doubt, be ready to marry you whenever you ask +it is for you to demand of yourself whether you will accept her +sacrifice." + +"Sacrifice! I would never dream of any sacrifice. It is unthinkable, +Father!" + +Anguish now distraught Henry's soul; he stopped in his walk and looked +full at the priest, his fine, distinguished face working with suffering. +The Père Anselme thought to himself that he would have done very well +for the model of a martyr of old. It distressed him deeply to see his +pain and to know that there would be more to come. + +"Her happiness is all that I care for--surely you know this--but what +has caused this change? Has she seen her husband again?--I----" Here +Henry stopped, a sense of stupefaction set in. What could it all mean? + +"We have never spoken upon the matter," the priest answered him. "I +cannot say, but I think--yes, she has certainly come under his +influence again. Have you never searched in your mind, Monsieur, to ask +yourself who this husband could be?" + +"No--! How should I have done so? I have never been in America in my +life." And then Henry's haggard eyes caught a look in the old priest's +face. "My God!" he cried, agony in his voice, "you would suggest that it +is some one I may know!" + +"I suggest nothing, Monsieur. I make my own deductions from events. Will +you not do the same?" + +Henry covered his eyes with his hands. It seemed as though reason were +slipping from him; and then, like a flash of lightning which cleared his +brain, the reality struck him. + +"It is Michael Arranstoun," he said with a moan. + +"We know nothing for certain," proclaimed the Père Anselme. "But the +alteration began from this young man's visit. That is why I warned you +to well ascertain the truth of her feelings before going further. I +would have saved you pain." + +Henry staggered to the wall of the summer-house and leant there. His +face was ashen-gray in the afternoon's dying light. + +"Oh, how hopelessly blind I have been!" + +The priest unclasped his tightly-locked hands; his old eyes were full of +pity as he answered: + +"We may both have made mistakes. You are more aware of the circumstances +than I am. The Seigneur of Arranstoun is the only man she has seen here +besides yourself. You perhaps know whom she met in England, or Paris?" + +"It is Michael Arranstoun," Henry said in a voice strangled and altered +with suffering. "I see every link in the chain--but, O God! why have +they deceived me? What can it mean? What hideous, fiendish cruelty! And +Michael was my old friend." + +A wild rage and resentment convulsed him. He only felt that he wished to +kill both these traitors, who had tricked him and destroyed his beliefs +and his happiness. Ghastly thoughts that there might be further +disclosures of more shameful deceptions to come shook him. He was +trembling with passion--and then the priest said something in his grave, +quiet voice which almost stunned him. + +"Has it been done in cruelty, my son? You must examine well the facts +before you assert that. You must not forget that whoever the husband may +be, he has consented to divorce her, and she is now going to give +herself to you. Is that cruelty, my son? Or is it a fine keeping to a +given word? It looks to me more like a noble sacrifice, unless the +Seigneur of Arranstoun was aware before he ever came here that Madame +Howard was his wife." + +Lord Fordyce controlled himself. This thing must be thought out. + +"No, Michael could not have known it," after a moment or two he +averred. "He even laughed over the name when I told it to him, and said +he had a scapegrace cousin out in Arizona and wondered if the husband +could be the same----" + +Then further recollections came with a frightful stab of anguish, +crushing all passion and anger and leaving only a sensation of pain, for +he remembered that his friend had given him his word of honor that he +would not interfere with him in his love-making--and, indeed, would help +him in every way he could, even to lending him Arranstoun for the +honeymoon! That letter of his, too, when he had gone from Héronac, +saying in it casually he hoped that he, Henry, thought that he had +played the game!--Yes, it was all perfectly plain. Michael had come +there in all innocence, and could not be blamed. He remembered numbers +of things unnoticed at the time--his own talk with Sabine when he had +discussed Michael's marriage--and this brought him up suddenly to her +side of the question. Why, in heaven's name, had she not told him the +truth at once? Why had she pretended not to recognize Michael? For, +however Michael might have started, since he, Henry, was not looking at +him, Sabine, whose face he had been gazing into all the while, had shown +no faintest recognition of him. What a superb actress she must be!--or +perhaps, having only seen him those two times in her life, for those +short moments, she really did not recognize him then. The whole thing +was so staggering in its hideous tragedy his brain almost refused to +think; but he said this last thought aloud, and the priest's strange +sudden silence struck even his numbed sense. + +"She had only seen him for such a little while--they parted immediately +after the wedding; it was merely an empty ceremony, you know. Why, then, +should she have had any haunting memories of him?" + +The Père Anselme avoided answering this question by asking another. + +"You knew that the Seigneur of Arranstoun was wedded, it would seem. How +was that?" + +Then Henry told him the outline of Michael's story, and the cruel irony +of fate in having made him himself leave the house before seeing Sabine +struck them both. + +"What can her reasons have been for not telling me all this time, +Father?" the unhappy man asked at last, in a hopeless voice. "Can you in +any way guess?" + +The Père Anselme mused for a moment. + +"I have my own thoughts upon the matter, my son. We who live lonely +lives very close to Nature get into the way of studying things. I have, +as I told you, made some deductions, but, if you will permit me to give +you some counsel, I would tell you to go back to the château now, with +no _parti pris_, and seek her immediately, and get her to tell you the +whole truth yourself. Of what good for you and me to speculate, since we +neither of us know all the facts?--or even, if our suppositions are +correct----" Then, as Lord Fordyce hesitated, he continued: "The time +has passed for reticence. There should be no more avoiding of feared +subjects. Go, go, my son, and discover the entire truth." + +"And what then!" The cry came from Henry's agonized heart. But the +priest answered gravely: + +"That is in the hand of God. My duty is done." + +And so they returned in silence, the Père Anselme praying fervently to +himself. And when they reached the house, Lord Fordyce stumbled up the +stone stairs heavily and knocked at the door of Sabine's sitting-room. +He had seen Moravia at her window in the inner building, and knew that +this woman who held his life in her hand would be alone. + +Then, in response to a gentle "_Entrez_" he opened the door and went in. + + * * * * * + +Sabine had been sitting at her writing-table, an open blue despatch-box +at her side. She was at the far end of the great apartment, so that +Henry had some way to go toward her in the gloom, as, but for the large +lamp near her and the blazing wood fire at each end, there was no light +in the vast room. She rose to meet him, a gentle smile upon her face, +and then, when he came close to her, she realized that something had +happened, and suddenly put her hand out to steady herself upon the back +of a chair. + +"Henry--what is it?" she said, in a very low voice. "Come, let us go +over there and sit down," and she drew him to the same sofa where that +very morning they had sat when she had let him kiss her. This thought +was extra pain. + +He was so very quiet he frightened her, and his gray eyes looked into +hers with such a world of despair, but no reproach. + +"Sabine," he commanded in a voice out of which had vanished all life and +hope, "tell me the whole story, my dear love." + +She clasped her hands convulsively--so the dreaded moment had come! +There would be no use in making any excuses or protestations, her duty +now was to master herself and collect her words to tell him the truth. +The utter misery in his noble face wrung her heart, so that her voice +trembled too much to speak at first; then she controlled it and began. + + * * * * * + +So all was told at last. + +Then Henry took her two cold hands again and drew her up with him as he +rose. + +"Sabine," he said with deep emotion, his heart at breaking point, but +all thought of himself put aside in the supreme unselfishness of his +worship; "Sabine, to-morrow I will prove to you what true love means. +But now, my dearest, I will say good-night. I think I must go to my +room for a little; this has been a tremendous shock." + +He bent and kissed her forehead with reverence and blessing, as her +father might have done, and, hiding all further emotion, he walked +steadily from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +When Lord Fordyce found himself alone, it felt as if life itself must +leave him, the agony of pain was so great, the fiendish irony of +circumstances. It almost seemed that each time he had intended to do a +good thing, he had been punished. He had left Arranstoun for the best +motive, and so had not seen Sabine and thus saved himself from future +pain; he had taken Michael to Héronac out of kindly friendship, and this +had robbed him of his happiness. But, awful as the discovery was now, it +was not half so terrible as it would have been if the truth had only +come to him later, when Sabine had become his wife. He must be thankful +for that. Things had always been inevitable; it was plain to be +understood that she had loved Michael all along, and nothing he +personally could have done with all his devotion could have changed this +fact. He ought to have known that it was hopeless and that he was only +living in a fool's paradise. Never once had he seen the light in her +eyes for himself which sprang there even at the mention of Michael's +name. What was this tremendous power this man possessed to so deeply +affect women, to so greatly charm every one? Was it just "it," as the +Princess had said? Anguish now fell upon Henry; there was no consolation +anywhere to be found. + +He went over again all the details of the story he had heard, and +himself filled up the links in the chain. How brutal it was of Michael +to have induced her to stay--even if she remained of her own accord--and +then the frightful thoughtless recklessness of letting her go off +afterwards just because he was angry! Wild fury blazed up against his +old friend. The poor darling little girl to be left to suffer all alone! +Oh! how tender and passionately devoted he would have been under the +same circumstances. Would Michael ever make her happy or take proper +care of her? He paced his room, his mind racked with pain. Every single +turn of events came back to him, and his own incredible blindness. How +had he been so unseeing? How, to begin with, had he not recalled the +name of Sabine as being the one he had read long ago in the paper as +that of the girl whom Michael had gone through the ceremony of marriage +with? It had faded completely from his memory. Everything seemed to have +combined to lead him on to predestined disaster and misery--even in +Sabine's and Michael's combining to keep the matter secret from him not +to cause him pain--all had augmented the suffering now. If--but there +was no good in contemplating ifs--what he had to do was to think clearly +as to what would be the wisest course to secure his darling's +happiness. That must be his first consideration. After that, he must +face his own cruel fate with what courage he could command. + +Her happiness could only come through the divorce proceedings being +stopped at once, and in her being free to go back to the man whom she +loved. Then the aspect that Michael had been willing to do a really fine +thing for the sake of friendship struck him--perhaps he was worthy of +Sabine, after all; and they were young and absolutely suited to one +another. No, the wickedness would have been if he, whose youth had +passed, had claimed her and come between. He was only now going through +the same agony his friend must have done, and he had a stronger motive +to help him, in the wish to secure the joy of this adored woman, whereas +Michael knew he was condemning her to sorrow as well as himself, and had +been strong enough to do it simply from honor and friendship. No, he had +no right to think of him as brutal or not fine; and now it was for him, +Henry, to bring back happiness to his darling and to his old friend. + +He sat down in a chair beside the fire and set himself to think. To have +to take some decided course came as a relief. He would go out into the +village and telegraph to Michael to come to Héronac at once. He was in +Paris, staying at the Ritz, he knew; he could be there to-morrow--on +Christmas Day! Surely that was well, when peace and good-will towards +men should be over all the earth--and he, Henry, would meet him at the +house of the Père Anselme and explain all to him, and then take him back +to Sabine. He would not see her again until then. + +He found telegraph forms on his writing-table and rapidly wrote out his +message. "Come immediately by first train, meet me at house of Père +Anselme, a matter of gravest importance to you and Sabine," and he +signed it "Fordyce." Then he firmly controlled himself and went off with +it into the night. + +The cold air struck his face and confronted him with its fierceness; the +wind was getting up; to-morrow the waves would again be rough. + +The village was not far away, and he soon had reached his goal and sent +the telegram. Then he stopped at the _presbytère_. He must speak once +more to the priest. The Père Anselme led him in to his bare little +parlor and drew him to the warm china stove. It was only two hours since +they had parted, but Lord Fordyce looked like an old man. + +"I have come to tell you, my Father," he said, "that I know all of the +story now, and it is terrible enough; but I want you to help me to +secure her happiness. Michael Arranstoun is her husband, as you +supposed, and she loves him." The old priest nodded his head +comprehendingly, and Henry went on. "They only parted to save me pain. +It was a tremendous sacrifice which, of course, I cannot accept. So now +I have sent for him, and I want you to let me meet him here at your +house, and explain everything to him to-morrow before he sees her. I +hope, if he gets my telegram in time, he will catch the train from Paris +at midnight to-night; it gets in about nine in the morning. Then they +can be happy on Christmas Day." + +"You have done nobly, my son," and the Père Anselme lifted his hand in +blessing. "It is very merciful that this has been in time. You will not +be permitted to suffer beyond your strength since you have done well. +The good God is beyond all things, just. My home is at your service--And +how is she, our dear Dame d'Héronac? Does she know that her husband will +come?" + +"She knows nothing. I told her we should settle all questions to-morrow. +She offered to keep her word to me, the dear child." + +"And she told you the whole story? She had the courage? Yes? That was +fine of her, because she has never spoken of all her sorrows directly, +even to me." + +"She told me everything, Father. There are no secrets any more; and her +story is a pitiful one, because she was so young." + +"It is possible it has been well for them," the priest said +meditatively, looking into the glowing fire in the stove whose door he +had opened. "They were too young and undisciplined at first for +happiness--they have come through so much suffering now they will cling +to each other and joy and not let it slip from their hands. She is more +suited to such a one as the Seigneur of Arranstoun than any other--there +is a vigor of youth in her which must find expression. And it is +something to be of noble blood, after all." Here he turned and looked +contemplatively at Henry. "It makes one able to surmount anguish and +remain a gentleman with manners, even at such a cruel crisis as this. +You have all my deep understanding and sympathy, my son. I, too, have +passed that way, and know your pain. But consolation will come. I find +it here in the cure of souls--you will find it in your England, leading +your fellow countrymen to finer ends. It is not for all of us, the glory +of the dawn or the meridian, but we can all secure a sunset of blessed +peace if we will." And then, as Henry wrung his thin old hand, he +muttered with tenderness, "Good-night, and _pax vobiscum_," while a +moisture glistened in his keen black eyes. + +And when the door was closed upon his guest he turned back into his +little room, this thought going on with him: + +"A great gentleman--though my Dame d'Héronac will be happier with the +fierce one. Youth must have its day, and all is well." + +But Henry, striding in the dark with the sound of the rushing sea for +company, found no consolation. + +When he got back to the château and was going up the chief staircase to +his room, he met Moravia coming down. She had just left Sabine and knew +the outlines of what had happened. Her astonishment and distress had +been great, but underneath, as she was only human, there was some sense +of personal upliftment; she could try to comfort the disconsolate lover +at least. Sabine had given her to understand that nothing was finally +settled between herself and Henry, but Moravia felt there could be only +one end; she knew he was too unselfish to hold Sabine for an instant, +once he understood that she would rather be free; so it was in the +character of fond friend that she put out her hand and grasped his in +silent sympathy. + +"Henry," she whispered with tears in her usually merry eyes, "my heart +is breaking for you. Can I do anything?" + +He would rather that she had not spoken of his sorrow at all, being a +singularly reticent person, but he was touched by the love and +solicitude in her face, and took and held her white fingers. + +"You are always so good to me. But there is nothing to be done." + +She slid her other hand into his arm and drew him on into the little +sitting-room which was always set apart for her, close to her room. + +"I am going to take care of you for the next hour, anyway--you look +frozen," she told him. "I shall make you sit in the big chair by the +fire while I give you something to drink. It is only half-past six." + +Then with fond severity she pushed him into a comfortable _bergère_, +and, leaving him, gave an order to her maid in the next room to bring +some brandy. But before it came Moravia went back again, and drawing a +low stool sat down almost at Henry's feet. + +The fire and her gentleness were soothing to him, as he lay there +huddled in the chair. The physical reaction was upon him from the shock +and he felt almost as though he were going to faint. + +Moravia watched him anxiously for some time without speaking--he was so +very pale. Then she got up quickly when the maid brought in the tray, +and pouring him out some brandy she brought it over and knelt down by +his side. + +"Drink this," she commanded kindly. "I shall not stir until you do." + +Henry took the glass with nerveless fingers and gulped down the liquid +as he was bid, but although she took the glass from him she did not get +off her knees; indeed, when she had pushed it on to the tray near her, +she came closer still and laid her cheek against his coat, taking his +right hand and chafing it between her own to bring back some life into +him, while she kept up a murmured flow of sweet sympathy--as one would +talk to an unhappy child. + +Henry was not actually listening to her, but the warmth and the great +vibrations of love coming from her began to affect him unconsciously, +so that he slipped his arm round her and drew her to his side. + +"Henry," she whispered with a little gasp in her breath, "I would take +all pain away from you, dear, if I could, but I can't do anything, only +just pet and love you into feeling better. After all, everything passes +in time. I thought I should never get over the death of my husband, +Girolamo, and now I don't care a bit--in fact, I only care about you and +want to make you less unhappy." + +The Princess thoroughly believed in La Rochefoucauld's maxim with the +advice that people were more likely to take to a new passion when still +agitated by the rests of the old one than if they were completely cured. +She intended, now that she was released from all honor to her friend, to +do her very uttermost to draw Henry to herself, and thought it much +wiser to begin to strike when the iron was hot. + +Henry did not answer her; he merely pressed her hand, while he thought +how un-English, her action was, and how very kind. She was certainly the +dearest woman he had ever met--beyond Sabine. + +Moravia was not at all discouraged, but continued to rub his hands, +first one and then the other, while he remained passive under her touch. + +"Sabine is perfectly crushed with all this," she went on. "I have just +left her. She does not know what you mean to do, but I am sure I can +guess. You mean to give her back to Mr. Arranstoun--and it will be much +better. She has always been in love with him, I believe, and would never +have agreed to try to arrange for a divorce if she had not been awfully +jealous about Daisy Van der Horn. I remember now telling her quite +innocently of the reports about them in Paris before we went to England, +and now that I come to think of it, I noticed she was rather spiteful +over it at the time." + +Henry did not answer, so she continued, in a frank, matter-of-fact way: + +"You can imagine what a strange character Sabine has when I tell you, in +all these years of our intimate friendship she never has told me a word +of her story until just now. She was keeping it all in to herself--I +can't think why." + +Henry did speak at last, but his words came slowly. "She wanted to +forget, poor little girl, and that was the best way to bury it all out +of sight." + +"There you are quite wrong," returned Moravia, now seated upon her +footstool again, very close, with her elbows propped on Henry's knees, +while she still held his hands and intermittently caressed them with her +cheek. "That is the way to keep hurts burning and paining forever, +fostering them all in the dark--it is much better to speak about them +and let the sun get in on them and take all their sorrow away. That is +why I would not let you be by yourself now, dear friend, as I suppose +one of your reserved countrymen would have done. I just determined to +make you talk about it, and to realize that there are lots of lovely +other things to comfort you, and that you are not all alone." + +Henry was strangely touched at her kind common sense; he already felt +better and not so utterly crushed out with despair. He told her how +sweet and good she was and what a true, unselfish woman--but Moravia +shook her head. + +"I am not a bit; it is purely interested, because I am so awfully fond +of you myself. I _love_ to pet you--there!" and she laughed softly, so +happy to see that she had been able even to make this slight effect, for +she saw the color had come back in a measure to his face, and her keen +brain told her that this was the right tack to go upon--not to be too +serious or show any sentiment, but just to use a sharp knife and cut +round all the wound and then pour honey and balm into it herself. + +"You and Sabine would never really have been happy together," she now +told him. "You were much too subservient to her and let her order you +about. She would have grown into a bully. Now, Mr. Arranstoun won't +stand a scrap of nonsense, I am sure; he would make any woman obey +him--if necessary by using brute force! They are perfectly suited to one +another, and very soon you will realize it and won't care. Do you +remember how we talked at dinner that night at Ebbsworth about women +having to go through a stage in their lives sooner or later when they +adored just strength in a man and wanted a master? Well, I wondered then +if Sabine had passed hers, but I was afraid of hurting you, so I would +not say that I rather thought she had not." + +"Oh, I wish you had!" Henry spoke at last. "And yet, no--the whole thing +has been inevitable from the first, I see it plainly. The only thing is, +if I had found it out sooner it might have saved Sabine pain. But it is +not too late, thank God--the divorce proceedings can be quashed; it +would have been a little ironical if she had had to marry him again." + +"Yes," Moravia agreed. "Now, if we could only get him to come here +immediately, we could explain it all to him and make him wire to his +lawyers at once." + +"I have already sent for him--I think he will arrive to-morrow at nine." + +"How glorious! It was just the dear, splendid thing you would do, +Henry," Moravia cried, getting up from her knees. "But we won't tell +Sabine; we will just let her mope there up in her room, feeling as +miserable as she deserves to be for not knowing her own mind. We will +all have a nice dinner--no, that won't be it--you and I will dine alone +here, up in this room, and Papa can talk to Madame Imogen. In this +house, thank goodness, we can all do what we like, and I am not going to +leave you, Henry, until we have got to say good-night. I don't care +whether you want me or not--I have just taken charge of you, and I mean +you to do what I wish--there!" + +And she crept closer to him again and laid her face upon his breast, so +that his cheek was resting upon her soft dark hair. Great waves of +comfort flowed to Henry. This sweet woman loved him, at all events. So +he put his arm round her again, while he assured her he did want her, +and that she was an angel, and other such terms. And by the time she +allowed him to go to his room to dress for dinner, a great measure of +his usual nerve and balance was restored. She had not given him a moment +to think, even shaking her finger at him and saying that if he was more +than twenty minutes dressing, she would herself come and fetch him and +bring him back to her room. + +Then, when he had left her, this true daughter of Eve, after ordering +dinner to be served to them, proceeded to make herself as beautiful as +possible for the next scene. She felt radiant. It was enormous what she +had done. + +"Why, he was on the verge of suicide!" she said to herself, "and now he +is almost ready to smile. Before the evening is over I shall have made +him kiss me--and before a month is past we shall be engaged. What +perfect nonsense to have silly mawkish sentiment over anything! The +thing to do is to win one's game." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Lord Fordyce found himself dressing in the usual way and with the usual +care, such creatures of habit are we--and yet, two hours earlier, he had +felt that life was over for him. Although he did not know it, Moravia +had been like a strong restorative applied at the right moment, and the +crisis of his agony had gone by. It was not that he was not still +overcome by sorrow, or that moments of complete anguish would not recur, +but the current had been diverted from taking a fatal turn, and +gradually things would mend. The perfect, practical common sense of +Moravia was so good for him. She was not intellectual like Sabine, she +was just a dear, beautiful, kind, ordinary woman, extremely in love with +him, but too truly American ever to lose her head, and now in real +spirits at the prospect of playing so delightful a game. She was +thoroughly versed in the ways of male creatures, and although she +possessed none of Sabine's indescribable charm, she had had numbers of +admirers and would-be lovers and was in every way fitted to cope with +any man. This evening, she had determined so to soothe, flatter and pet +Henry that he should go to bed not realizing that there was any change +in himself, but should be in reality completely changed. Her +preparations had been swift but elaborate. She had rushed to Madame +Imogen's room, and got her to take special messages to the chef, and +dinner would be waited on by her own maid--with Nicholas just to run in +and open the champagne. Then she selected a ravishing rose-pink chiffon +tea-gown, all lacy and fresh, and lastly she had a big fire made up and +all the curtains drawn, and so she awaited Henry's coming with +anticipations of delight. She had even got Mr. Cloudwater (that _père +aprivoisé!_) to mix her two dry Martini cocktails, which were ready for +her guest. + +Henry knocked at the door exactly at eight o'clock, and she went to meet +him with all the air of authority of a mother, and led him into the +room, pushing him gently into the chair she had prepared for him. A man +may have a broken heart--but the hurt cannot feel so great when he is +surrounded with every comfort and ministered to by a beautiful young +woman, who is not only in love with him, but has the nerve to keep her +head and not neglect a single point which can be of use in her game. + +If she had shown him too much sympathy, or just been ultra-refined and +silent and adoring, Henry by this time would have been quite as unhappy +as he had been at first; but he was too courteous by nature not to try +to be polite and appreciative of kindness when she tendered it so +frankly, no matter what his inward feelings might be--and this she knew +she could count upon and meant to exploit. She argued very truly that if +he were obliged to act, it would brace him up and be beneficial to him, +even though at the moment he would much prefer to be alone. So now she +made him drink the cocktail, and then she deliberately spoke of Sabine, +wondering if she would be awfully surprised to see Michael, and if he +would take her back with him to Arranstoun. Henry winced at every word, +but he had to answer, and presently he found he did not feel so sad. +Then, with dexterity, she turned the conversation to English politics +and got him to explain points to her, and at every moment she poured in +insidious flattery and frank, kind affection, so that by the time the +ice had come, Henry had begun to feel unaccountably soothed. She was +really a beautiful woman and arranged with a wonderful _chic_, and he +realized that she had never looked more charming or been so sweet. She +had all the sense of power being on her side, now that she had a free +hand, unhampered by honor to her friend, and when the dessert and the +cigarettes had come, she felt that she might indulge in a little +sentiment. + +She remembered that he only smoked cigars, and got up and helped him to +light one of his own; and when she was quite close to him, she put her +hand out and stroked his hair. + +"Even if he does not like it at first," she told herself, "he is too +polite to say so, and presently, just because he is a man, it will give +him a thrill." + +"I do love your light hair, Henry," she said aloud, "and it is so well +brushed. You Englishmen are certainly _soigné_ creatures, and I like +your lazy, easy grace--as though you would never put yourself out for +any one. I can't bear a fuss." She puffed her cigarette and did not wait +for him to answer her, but prattled on perfectly at ease. Even his +courtesy would not have prevented him from snubbing her, if she had been +the least tentative in her caressings, or the least diffident. But she +just took it as a matter of course that she could stroke his hair if she +wanted to, and presently it began to give him a sensation of pleasure +and rest. If she had, by word or look, suggested that she expected some +return, Henry would have frozen at once--but all she did was apparently +only to please herself, and so he had no defense to make. Still in the +character of domestic tyrant, she presently led him to the comfortable +armchair, and once more seated herself upon the stool close to the fire +by his side. Here she was silent for a few moments, letting the comfort +of the whole scene sink in to his brain--and then, when the maid came in +to clear away the dinner-table, she got up and went to the piano, where +she played some soft, but not sentimental tunes. Music of a certain sort +would be the worst thing for him, but a light air while Marie was in the +room could do no harm. Though, when she went over close to him again, +she saw that even this pause had allowed him time to think, and that his +face was once more overcome by melancholy, although he greeted her with +a smile. + +Something further must be done. + +"Henry," she said, cooingly, kneeling down beside him and taking his +hand, "will you promise me something, please. I am not clever like you, +but I do know one splendid recipe for taking away pain; every time the +thought of Sabine comes up to you and the old pictures you used to hold, +look them squarely in the face, and then deliberately replace them with +others that you can obtain--the strange law of periodicity will be in +motion and, if you have only will enough, gradually the pictures that +can be yours will unconsciously have taken the place of the old ones +which have caused you pain. Is it not much better to do that than just +to let yourself grieve--surely it is more like a man?" + +Henry looked at her, a little startled. This idea had never presented +itself to him. Yes, it was certainly more like a man to try any measure +than "just to grieve," and what if there should be some truth in this +suggestion--? What did the "law of periodicity" mean? What an American +phrase! How apt they were at coining expressive sentences. He looked +into the glowing ashes--there he seemed to see in ruins the whole fabric +of his dreams--but if there was a law which brought thoughts back, and +back again at the same hour each day, then Moravia was right: he must +blot out the old pictures and conjure up new ones--but what could they +be--? + +"You are musing, Henry," Moravia's voice went on. "Are you thinking over +what I said? I hope so, and you will find it is true. See, I will tell +you what to visualize there in the fire. You are looking at a splendid +English home, all peace and warmth, and you see yourself in it happy and +surrounded by friends. And you see yourself a great man, the center of +political interest, and everything coming toward you that heart can +desire. It is awfully wanting in common sense to think because you +cannot obtain one woman there are none others in the world." + +"Awfully," agreed Henry--suddenly taking in the attractive picture she +made, seated there at his knees, her white hand holding his hand. His +thoughts wandered for a moment, as thought will do when the mind is +overstrained; they wandered to the speculation of why American women +should have such small and white hands, and then he brought himself back +to the actual conversation. + +"You mean to tell me," he said, "that if every time I remember, when I +am dwelling upon the subject which pains me, that I must make my +thoughts turn to other things which give me pleasure, that gradually the +new thoughts will banish the old?" + +"Of course, I mean that," Moravia told him. "Everything comes in +cycles; that is why people get into habits. You just try, Henry; you can +cure the habit of pain as easily as you can cure any habit. It is all a +question of will." + +She saw that she had created interest in his eyes, and rejoiced. That +crisis had passed! and it would be safe to go on. + +"I shall not get him to kiss me to-night, after all," she decided to +herself. "If I did, he would probably feel annoyed to-morrow, with some +ridiculous sense of a too sudden disloyalty to Sabine's memory--and he +might be huffed with himself, too, thinking he had given way; it might +wound his vanity. I shall just draw him right out and make him want to +kiss me, but not consciously--and then it will be safe when he is at +that pitch to let him go off to bed." + +This plan she proceeded to put into practice. She exploited the subject +they had been talking of to its length, and aroused a sharp discussion +and argument--while she took care to place herself in the most alluring +attitudes as close to Henry as she possibly could be, while maintaining +a basis of frank friendship, and then she changed the current by getting +him to explain to her exactly what he had done about Michael, and how +they should arrange the meeting between the two, putting into her +eagerness all the sparkle that she would have used in collaborating with +him over the placing of the presents upon a Christmas tree--until, at +last, Henry began to take some sort of pride in the thing itself. + +"I want you to let Sabine think you are just going to forgive her for +her deception, but intend her to keep her word to you; and then you can +take Mr. Arranstoun up to her sitting-room when you have brought him +from the Père Anselme's--and just push him in and let them explain +matters themselves. Won't it be a moment for them both!" + +Henry writhed. + +"Yes," he gasped, "a great moment." + +"And you are not going to care one bit, Henry," Moravia went on, with +authority. "I tell you, you are not." + +Then, having made all clear as to their joint action upon the morrow, +she spent the last half hour before they parted in instilling into his +spirit every sort of comfort and subtle flattery until, when the clock +struck eleven, Henry felt a sense of regret that he must say good-night. + +By this time, her head was within a few inches of his shoulder, and her +pretty eyes were gazing into his with the adoring affection of a child. + +"You are an absolute darling, Moravia," he murmured, with some emotion, +"the kindest woman in this world," and he bent and kissed her hair. + +She showed no surprise--to take the caress naturally would, she felt, +leave him with the pleasure of it, and arouse no disturbing +analyzations in his mind as to its meaning. + +"Now you have got to go right off to your little bed," she said, in a +matter of fact 'mother' tone, "and I should just like to come and tuck +you up, and turn your light out--but as I can't, you'll promise me you +will do it yourself at once--and close those eyes and go to sleep." Here +she permitted herself softly to shut his lids with her smooth fingers. + +Henry felt a delicious sense of comfort and peace creeping over him--he +knew he did not wish to leave her--but he got up and took both her +hands. + +"Good-night, you sweet lady," he said. "You will never know how your +kind heart has helped me to-night, nor can I express my gratitude for +your spontaneous sympathy," with which he kissed the fair hands, and +went regretfully toward the door. + +Moravia thought this the right moment to show a little further +sentiment. + +"Good-night, Henry," she faltered. "It has been rather heaven for +me--but I don't think I'll let you dine up here alone with me +again--it--it might make my heart ache, too." And then she dexterously +glided to the door of her bed-room and slipped in, shutting it softly. + +And Henry found himself alone, with some new fire running in his veins. + +When Moravia, listening, heard his footsteps going down the passage, she +clasped her hands in glee. + +"I 'shall never know'! 'My spontaneous sympathy'!--Oh! the darling, +innocent babe! But I've won the game. He will belong to me now--and I +shall make him happy. Ouida was most certainly right when she said, 'Men +are not vicious; they are but children.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Very early on Christmas morning, Lord Fordyce went down to the +_presbytère_ and walked with the Père Anselme on his way to Mass. He had +come to a conclusion during the night. The worthy priest would be the +more fitting person to see Michael than he, himself; he felt he could +well leave all explanations in those able hands--and then, when his old +friend knew everything, he, Henry, would meet him and bring him to the +Château of Héronac, and so to Sabine. + +The Père Anselme was quite willing to undertake this mission; he would +have returned to his breakfast by then and would await Michael's +arrival, he told Henry. Michael would come from the station, twenty +kilometers away, in Henry's motor. + +The wind had got up, and a gloriously rough sea beat itself against the +rocks. The thundering surf seemed some comfort to Henry. He was +unconscious of the fact that he felt very much better than he had ever +imagined that he could feel after such a blow. Moravia's maneuvrings and +sweet sympathy had been most effective, and Henry had fallen asleep +while her spell was still upon him--and only awakened after several +hours of refreshing slumber. Then it was he decided upon the plan, which +he put into execution as soon as daylight came. Now he left the old +priest at the church door and strode away along the rough coast road, +battling with the wind and trying to conquer his thoughts. + +He was following Moravia's advice, and replacing each one of pain as it +came with one of pleasure--and the cold air exhilarated his blood. + +Michael, meanwhile, in the slow, unpleasant train, was a prey to anxiety +and speculation. What had happened? There was no clue in Henry's dry +words in the telegram. Had there been some disaster? Was Henry violently +angry with him? What would their meeting bring? He had come in to the +Ritz from a dinner party, and had got the telegram just in time to rush +straight to the station with a hastily-packed bag, and get into an +almost-moving train, and all night long he had wondered and wondered, as +he sat in the corner of his carriage. But whatever had happened was a +relief--it produced action. He had no longer just to try to kill time +and stifle thought; he could do something for good or ill. + +It seemed as though he would never arrive, as the hours wore on and dawn +faded into daylight. Then, at last, the crawling engine drew up at his +destination, and he got out and recognized Henry's chauffeur waiting +for him on the platform. The swift rush through the cold air refreshed +him, and took away the fatigue of the long night--and soon they had +drawn up at the door of the _presbytère_, and he found himself being +shown by the priest's ancient housekeeper into the spotlessly clean +parlor. + +The Père Anselme joined him in a moment, and they silently shook hands. + +"You are not aware, sir, why you have been sent for, I suppose?" the +priest asked, with his mild courtesy. "Pray be seated, there by the +stove, and I will endeavor to enlighten you." + +Michael sat down. + +"Please tell me everything," he said. + +The Père Anselme spread out his thin hands toward the warmth of the +china, while he remained standing opposite his visitor. + +"The good God at last put it into the mind of the Lord Fordyce that our +Dame d'Héronac has not been altogether happy of late--and upon my +suggestion he questioned her as to the cause of this, and learned what I +believe to be the truth--which you, sir, can corroborate--namely, that +you are her husband and are obtaining the divorce not from desire, but +from a motive of loyalty to your friend." + +"That is the case," assented Michael quietly, a sudden great joy in his +heart. + +The priest was silent, so he went on: + +"And what does Lord Fordyce mean to do?--release her and give her back +to me--or what, _mon Père_?" + +"Is it necessary to ask?" and Père Anselme lifted questioning and almost +whimsical eyebrows. "Surely you must know that your friend is a +gentleman!" + +"Yes, I know that--but it must mean the most awful suffering to +him--poor, dear old Henry--Is he quite knocked out?" + +"The good God tries no one beyond his strength--he will find +consolation. But, meanwhile, it will be well that you let me offer you +the hospitality of my poor house for rest and refreshment"--here the old +man made a courtly bow--"and when you have eaten and perhaps bathed, you +can take the road to the Château of Héronac, where you will find Lord +Fordyce by the garden wall, and he will perhaps take you to Madame +Sabine. That is as he may think wisest--I believe she is quite +unprepared. Of the reception you are likely to receive from her you are +the best judge yourself." + +"It seems too good to be true!" cried Michael, suddenly covering his +face with his hands. "We have all been through an awful time, _mon +Père_." + +"So it would seem. It is not the moment for me to tell you that you drew +it all upon yourselves--since the good God has seen fit to restore you +to happiness." + +"I drew it upon us," protested Michael. "You know the whole story, +Father?" + +The old priest coughed slightly. + +"I know most of it, my son. In it, you do not altogether shine----" + +Michael got up from his chair, while he clasped his hands forcibly. + +"No, indeed, I do not--I know I have been an unspeakable brute--I have +not the grain of an excuse to offer--and yet she has forgiven me. Women +are certainly angels, are they not, _mon Père_?" + +The Curé of Héronac sighed gently. + +"Angels when they love, and demons when they hate--of an unbalance--but +a great charm. It lies with us men to decide the feather-weight which +will make the scale go either way with them--to heaven or hell." + +Here the ancient housekeeper announced that coffee and rolls were ready +for them in the other room, and the Père Anselme led the way without +further words. + +Less than an hour later, the two men who loved this one woman met just +over the causeway, where Henry awaited Michael's coming. It was a +difficult moment for them both, but they clasped hands with a few +ordinary words. Henry's walk in the wind had strengthened his nerves. +For some reason, he was now conscious that he was feeling no acute pain +as he had expected that he would do, and that there was even some kind +of satisfaction in the thought that, on this Christmas morning, he was +able to bring great happiness to Sabine. He could not help remarking, as +they crossed the drawbridge, that Michael looked a most suitable mate +for her: he was such a picture of superb health and youth. As they +entered the courtyard, Moravia and her little son came out of the main +door. + +The Princess greeted them gaily. She was going to show Girolamo the big +waves from the causeway bridge before going on to church; they had a +good half-hour. She experienced no surprise at seeing Michael, only +asking about his night journey's uncomfortableness, and then she turned +to Henry: + +"Come and join us there by the high parapet, Henry, as soon as you have +taken Mr. Arranstoun up to Sabine. She has not come out of her wing yet; +but I know that she is dressed and in her sitting-room," and smiling +merrily, she took Girolamo's little hand and went her way. + +There was no sound when the two men reached Sabine's sitting-room door. +Henry knocked gently, but no answer came; so he opened it and looked in. +Great fires burned in the wide chimneys and his flowers gave forth sweet +scent, but the Lady of Héronac was absent, or so it seemed. + +"Come in, Michael, and wait," Henry said; and then, from the embrasure +of the far window, they heard a stifled exclamation, and saw that Sabine +was indeed there after all, and had risen from the floor, where she had +been kneeling by the window-seat looking out upon the waves. + +Her face was deadly pale and showed signs of a night's vigil, but when +she caught sight of Michael it was as though the sun had emerged from a +cloud, so radiant grew her eyes. She stood quite still, waiting until +they advanced near to her down the long room, and then she steadied +herself against the back of a tall chair. + +"Sabine," Henry said, "I want you to be very happy on this Christmas +day, and so I have brought your husband back to you. All these foolish +divorce proceedings are going to be stopped, and you and he can settle +all your differences, together, dear--" then, as a glad cry forced +itself from Sabine's lips--his voice broke with emotion. She stretched +out her hands to him, and he took one and drew her to Michael, who stood +behind him. + +Then he took also his old friend's hand, and clasped it upon Sabine's. + +"I am not much of a churchman," he said, hoarsely, "but this part of the +marriage service is true, I expect. 'Those whom God hath joined together +let no man put asunder.'" Then he dropped their hands, and turned toward +the door. + +"Oh! Henry, you are so good to us!" Sabine cried. "No words can say what +I feel." + +But Lord Fordyce could bear no more--and murmuring some kind of +blessing, he got from the room, leaving the two there in the embrasure +of the great window gazing into each other's eyes. + +As the door shut, Michael spoke at last: + +"Sabine--My own!" he whispered, and held out his arms. + + * * * * * + +When Henry left Sabine's sitting-room, he staggered down the stairs like +one blind--the poignant anguish had returned, and the mantle of comfort +fell from his shoulders. He was human, after all, and the picture of the +rapture on the faces of the two, showing him what he had never obtained, +stabbed him like a knife. He felt that he would willingly drop over the +causeway bridge into the boiling sea, and finish all the pain. He saw +Moravia's blue velvet dress in the distance down the road when he left +the lodge gates, and he fled into the garden; he must be alone--but she +had seen him go, and knew that another crisis had come and that she must +conquer this time also. So apparently only for the gratification of +Girolamo, she turned and entered the garden--the garden which seemed to +be a predestined spot for the stratagems of lovers!--then she strolled +toward the sea-wall, not turning her head in the direction where she +plainly perceived Henry had gone, but taking care that Girolamo should +see him, as she knew he would run to him. This he immediately did, and +dragged his victim back to his mother in the pavilion which looked out +over the sea. Girolamo was now three years old and a considerable imp; +he displayed Henry proudly and boasted of his catch--while Moravia +scolded him sweetly and asked Henry to forgive them for intruding upon +his solitude. + +"You know I understand you must want to be alone, dear friend, and I +would not have come if I had seen you," she said, tenderly, while she +turned and, leaning out, beckoned to the nurse, whom she could just see +across the causeway on the courtyard wall, where the raised parapet was. +Then allowing her feelings to overcome her judgment, she flung out her +arms and seizing Henry's hands, she drew them into her warm, huge muff. + +"Henry--I can't help it--!" she gasped. "It breaks my heart to see you +so cold and white and numb--I want to warm and comfort and love you back +to life again----!" + +At this minute, the sun burst through the scudding clouds, and blazed in +upon them from the archway; and it seemed to Henry as if a new vitality +rushed into his frozen veins. She was so human and pretty, and young and +real. Love for him spoke from her sparkling, brown eyes. The ascendancy +she had obtained over him on the previous evening returned in a measure; +he no longer wanted to get away from her and be alone. + +He made some murmuring reply, and did not seek to draw away his +hands--but a sudden change of feeling seemed to come over Moravia for +she lowered her head and a deep, pink flush grew in her cheeks. + +"What will you think of me, Henry?" she whispered, pulling at his grasp, +which grew firmer as she tried to loosen it. "I"--and then she raised +her eyes, which were suffused with tears. "Oh! it seems such horrid +waste for you to be sick with grief for Sabine, who is happy now--and +that only I must grieve----" + +Girolamo had seen his nurse entering the far gate and was racing off to +meet her, so that they were quite alone in the pavilion now, and +Moravia's words and the tears in her fond eyes had a tremendous effect +upon Henry. It moved some unknown cloud in his emotions. She, too, +wanted comfort, not he alone--and he could bring it to her and be +soothed in return, so he drew her closer and closer to him, and framed +her face in his hands. + +"Moravia," he said, tenderly. "You shall not grieve, dear child--If you +want me, take me, and I will give you all the devotion of true +friendship--and, who knows, perhaps we shall find the Indian summer, +after all, now that the gates of my fool's paradise are shut." + +In the abstract, it was not highly gratifying to a woman's vanity, this +declaration! but, as a matter of fact, it was beyond Moravia's wildest +hopes. She had not a single doubt in her astute American mind that, once +she should have the right to the society of Henry--with her knowledge of +the ways of man--that she would soon be able to obliterate all regrets +for Sabine, and draw his affections completely to herself. + +At this juncture, she showed a stroke of genius. + +"Henry," she said, her voice vibrating with profound feeling, "I do want +you--more than anything I have ever wanted in my life--and I will make +you forget all your hurts--in my arms." + +There was certainly nothing left for Lord Fordyce, being a gallant +gentleman, to do but to stoop his tall head and kiss her--and, to his +surprise, he found this duty turn into a pleasure--so that, in a few +moments, when they were close together looking out upon the waves +through the pavilion's wide windows, he encircled her with his arm--and +then he burst into a laugh, but though it was cynical, it contained no +bitterness. + +"Moravia--you are a witch," he told her. "Here is a situation that, +described, would read like pathos--and yet it has made us both happy. +Half an hour ago, I was wishing I might step over into that foam--and +now----" + +"And now?" demanded the Princess, standing from him. + +"And now I realize that, with the New Year, there may dawn new joys for +me. Oh! my dear, if you will be content with what I can give you, let us +be married soon and go to India for the rest of the winter." + + * * * * * + +The Père Anselme noticed that his only congregation from the Château +consisted of Mr. Cloudwater and Madame Imogen; and he thanked the good +God--as he sent up a fervent prayer for the absentees' happiness. + +"It means that they two are near heaven, and that consolation will come +to the disconsolate one, since all four remain at home," he told +himself. This was a dénouement worthy of Christmas Day, and of far more +value in his eyes than the two pairs' mere presence in his church. + +"The ways of the good God are marvellous," he mused, as he went to his +vestry, "and it is fitting that youth should find its mate. We grieve +and wring our hearts--and nothing is final--and while there is life +there is hope--that love may bloom again. Peace be with them." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +When the first moment of ecstasy in the knowledge that they were indeed +given back to each other was over, Michael drew Sabine to the window +seat where she had been crouching only that short while before in silent +misery. + +"Sweetheart," he entreated, "now you have got to tell me everything--do +you understand, Sabine--every single thing from the first moment in the +chapel when we made those vows until now when we are going to keep them. +I want to know everything, darling child--all your thoughts and what you +did with your life--and when you hated me and when you loved me----" + +They sat down on the velvet cushions and Sabine nestled into his arms. + +"It is so difficult, Michael," she cooed, "how can I begin? I was +sillier and more ignorant than any other girl of seventeen could +possibly be, I think--don't you? Oh! don't let us speak of that part--I +only remember that when you kissed me first in the chapel some kind of +strange emotion came to me--then I was frightened----" + +"But not after a while," he interpolated, something of rapturous +triumph in his fond glance, while he caressed and smoothed her hair, as +her little head lay against his shoulder, "I thought you had forgiven me +before I went to sleep." + +"Perhaps I had--I did not know myself--only that there in the gray dawn +everything seemed perfectly awful and horror and terror came upon me +again, and I had only one wild impulse to rush away--surely you can +understand--" she paused. + +"Go on, sweetheart," he commanded, "I shall not let you off one detail. +I love to make you tell me every single thing"--and he took her hand and +played with her wedding ring, but not taking it off, while Sabine +thrilled with happiness. + +"Well--you did not wake--and so presently I got into the sitting-room, +and at last found the certificate--and just as I was going out of the +door on to the balcony I heard you call my name sleepily--and for one +second I nearly went back--but I did not, and got safely away and to the +hotel!" + +"Think of my not waking!" Michael exclaimed. "If only I had--you would +never have been allowed to go--it is maddening to remember what that +sleep cost--but how did you manage at the hotel?" + +"It was after five o'clock and the side door was open into the yard. Not +a soul saw me, and I carried out my original plan. I think when I was in +the train I had already begun to regret bitterly, but it was too late +to go back--and then next day your letter came to me at Mr. Parsons' and +all my pride was up in arms!" + +Here Michael held her very tight. + +"Oh, what a brute I was to write that letter," he cried. + +"All I wanted then was to go away and forget all about you and +everything and have lots of nice clothes and join my friend Moravia in +Paris. You see, I was still just a silly ignorant child. Mr. Parsons got +me a good maid who is with me still, and he agreed at last to my taking +the name of Howard--I thought if I kept the Arranstoun everyone would +know." + +"But what did you intend to do, darling, with your life. We were both +crazy, of course, you to go--and I to let you." + +"I had no concrete idea. Just to see the world and buy what I wanted, +and sit up late--and not have to obey any rules, I think--and underneath +there was a great excitement all the time in the thought of looking +perfectly splendid in being a grand grown-up lady when you came +back--for of course I believed then that we must meet again." + +"Well, what changed all that and made you become engaged to Henry, you +wicked little thing!" and Michael kissed her fondly--"Was it because I +did not come back?--but you could have cabled to me at any time." + +An enchanting confusion crept over Sabine--she hesitated--she began to +speak, then stopped and finally buried her face in his coat. + +"What is it, darling?" he asked with almost a tone of anxiety in his +voice. "Did you have some violent flirtation with someone at this stage? +and you think I shall be annoyed--but indeed I shall not, because I do +fully realize that whatever you did was my fault for leaving you +alone--Tell me, Sabine, you sweet child." + +"No--it wasn't that----" + +"Well--then?" + +"Well--then I was--terrified--it was my old maid, Simone, who told me +what had happened--I was still too ignorant to understand things." + +"Told you what? What wretched story did the old woman invent about me?" +Michael's eyes were haughty--that she could listen to stories from a +maid! + +Sabine clasped her hands together--she was deeply moved. + +"Oh, Michael--you are stupid! How can I possibly tell you--if you won't +understand." + +Then she jumped up suddenly and swiftly brought her blue-despatch box +from beside her writing-table and unlocked it with her bracelet +key--while Michael with an anxious, puzzled face watched her intently. +She sat down again beside him when she had found what she sought--the +closed blue leather case which she had looked at so many times. + +"If you are going to show me some brute's photograph I simply refuse to +look," Michael said. "All that part of your life is over and we are +going to begin afresh, darling one, no matter what you did." + +But she crept nearer to him as she opened the case--and her voice was +full and sweet, shy tenderness as she blurted out: + +"It is not a brute's photograph, Michael, it is the picture of your own +little son." + +"My God!" cried Michael, the sudden violent emotion making him very +pale. "Sabine--how dared you keep this from me all these years--I--" +Then he seized her in his arms and for a few seconds they could neither +of them speak--his caresses were so fierce. At last he exclaimed +brokenly, "Sabine--with the knowledge of this between us how could you +ever have even contemplated belonging to another man--Oh! if I had only +known. Where is--my son?" + +"You must listen, Michael, to everything," Sabine whispered, "then you +will understand--I was simply terrified when I realized at last, and +only wanted to go back to you and be comforted, so I wrote a letter at +once to tell you, and as Mr. Parsons was in England again I sent it to +him to have it put safely into your hands. But by then you had gone +right off to China, and Mr. Parsons sent the letter back to me, it was +useless to forward it to you, he said, you might not get it for a year." + +Michael strained her to his heart once more, while his eyes grew wet. + +"Oh, my poor little girl--all alone, how frightfully cruel it was, no +wonder you hated me then, and could not forgive me even afterward." + +"I did not hate you--I was only terrified and longing to rush off +somewhere and hide--so Simone suggested San Francisco--the furthest off +she knew, and we hurried over there and then I was awfully ill, and when +my baby was born I very nearly died." + +Michael was wordless, he could only kiss her. "That is what made him so +delicate--my wretchedness and rushing about," she went on, "and so I was +punished because, after three months, God took him back again--my dear +little one--just when I was beginning to grow comforted and to love him. +He was exactly like you, Michael, with the same blue eyes, and I +thought--I thought, we should go back to Arranstoun and finish our +estrangements and be happy again--the three of us--when you did come +home--I grew radiant and quite well--" Here two big tears gathered in +her violet eyes and fell upon Michael's hand, and he shivered with the +intensity of his feelings as he held her close. + +"We had made our plans to go East--but my little sweetheart caught cold +somehow--and then he died--Oh! I can't tell you the grief of it, +Michael, I was quite reckless after that--it was in June and I did not +care what happened to me for a long while. I just wanted to get back to +Moravia, not knowing she had left Paris for Rome--and then I crossed in +July--and came here to Brittany and saw and bought Héronac as I told you +before. I heard then that you had not returned from China or made any +sign--and it seemed all so cruel and ruthless, and as there were no +longer any ties between us I thought that I would crush you from my life +and forget you, and that I would educate myself and make something of my +mind." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear little girl," Michael sighed. "If you knew how all +this is cutting me to the heart to think of the awful brute I have +been--to think of you bearing things all alone--I somehow never realized +the possibility of this happening--but once or twice when it did cross +my mind I thought of course you would have cabled to me if so--I am +simply appalled now at the casual selfishness of my behavior--can you +ever forgive me, Sabine?" + +She smoothed back his dark thick hair and looked into his bold eyes, now +soft and glistening with tears. + +"Of course I can forgive you, Michael--I belong to you, you see----" + +So when he had kissed her enough in gratitude and contrition he besought +her to go on. + +"The years passed and I thought I had really forgotten you--and my life +grew so peaceful with the Père Anselme and Madame Imogen here at +Héronac, and all sorts of wonderful and interesting studies kept +developing for me. I seemed to grow up and realize things and the +memory of you grew less and less--but society never held out any +attractions for me--only to be with Moravia. I had taken almost a +loathing for men; their actions seemed to me all cruel and predatory, +not a single one attracted me in the least degree--until this summer at +Carlsbad when we met Henry. And he appeared so good and true and +kind--and I felt he could lift me to noble things and give me a guiding +hand to greatness of purpose in life--I liked him--but I must tell you +the truth, Michael, and you will see how small I am," here she held +tightly to Michael's hand--"I do not think I would ever have promised +him at Carlsbad that I would try to free myself only that I read in the +paper that you were at Ostende--with Daisy Van der Horn. That +exasperated me--even though I thought I was absolutely indifferent to +you after five years. I had never seen your name in the paper before, it +was the first indication I had had that you had come home--and the whole +thing wounded my pride. I felt that I must ask for my freedom from you +before you possibly could ask for yours from me. So I told Henry that +very night that I had made up my mind." + +"Oh! you dear little goose," Michael interrupted. "Not one of those +ladies mattered to me more than the other--they were merely to pass the +time of day, of no importance whatever." + +"I dare say--but I am telling you my story, Michael--Well, Henry was so +wonderful, so good--and it got so that he seemed to mean everything +fine, he drew me out of myself and your shadow grew to mean less and +less to me and I believed that I had forgotten you quite--except for the +irritation I felt about Daisy--and then by that extraordinary turn of +fate, Henry himself brought you here, and I did not even know the name +of the friend who was coming with him; he had not told me in the hurried +postscript of his letter saying he was bringing some one--I saw you both +arrive from the lodge, and when I heard the tones of your voice--Ah! +well, you can imagine what it meant!" + +"No, I want to know, little darling--what did it mean?" and Michael +looked into her eyes with fond command. + +"It made my heart beat and my knees tremble and a strange thrill came +over me--I ought to have known then that to feel like that did not mean +indifference--oughtn't I?" + +"I expect so--but what a moment it was when we did meet, you must come +to that!" + +"Arrogant, darling creature you are, Michael! You love to make me +recount all these things," and Sabine looked so sweetly mutinous that he +could not remain tranquilly listening for the moment, but had to make +passionate love to her--whispering every sort of endearment into her +little ear--though presently she continued the recital of her story +again: + +"I stood there in the lodge after the shock of seeing you had passed, +and I began to burn with every sort of resentment against you--I had had +all the suffering and you had gone free--and I just felt I wanted to +punish you by pretending not to know you! Think of it! How small--and +yet there underneath I felt your old horribly powerful charm!" + +"Oh, you did, did you! You darling," Michael exclaimed--and what do you +suppose I felt--if we had only rushed there and then into each other's +arms!" + +"I was quite prepared for you in the garden--and did not I play my part +well! You got quite white, you know with surprise--and I felt +exquisitely excited. I could see you had come in all innocence--having +probably forgotten our joking arrangement that I should call myself Mrs. +Howard--I could not think why you did not speak out and denounce me. It +hurt my pride, I thought it was because you wanted to divorce me and +marry Daisy that you were indifferent about it. I did not know it was +because you had given your word of honor to Henry not to interfere with +the woman he loved. Then after dinner Henry told me you knew that he and +I were practically engaged--that stung me deeply--it seemed to prove +your indifference--so things developed and we met in the +garden--Michael, was not that a wonderful hour! How we both acted. If +you had indicated by word or look that you remembered me, I could not +have kept it up, we should have had to tell Henry then--we were playing +at cross-purposes and my pride was wounded." + +"I understand, sweetheart, go on." + +"Well, I was miserable at luncheon, and then when you went out in the +boat--being with you was like some intoxicating drink--I was more +excited than I had ever been in my life. I was horrid toward Henry, I +would not own it to myself, but I felt him to be the stumbling block in +the way. So I was extra nice to him to convince myself--and I let him +hold my arm, which I had never done before and you saw that in the +garden. I suppose--and thought I loved him and so went--that was nice of +you, Michael--but stupid, wasn't it!" + +"Ridiculously stupid, everything I did was stupid that separated you +from me. The natural action of my character would have been just to +seize you again and carry you off resisting or unresisting to +Arranstoun, but some idiotic sentiment of honor to Henry held me." + +"I cried a little, I believe, when I got your note--I went up into this +room and opened this despatch-box and read your horrid letter again--and +I believe I looked into the blue leather case, too"--here she opened it +once more--and they both examined it tenderly. "Of course you can't see +anything much in this little photograph--but he really was so like you, +Michael, and when I looked at it again after seeing you, I could have +sobbed aloud, I wanted you so----" + +"My dear, dear, little girl----" + +"Henry had told me casually that afternoon your story, and how he had +not stayed at Arranstoun for the wedding because he thought your action +so unfair to the bride!--and how that now you felt rather a dog in the +manger about her. That infuriated me! Can't you understand I had only +one desire, to show you that I did not care since you had gone off. +Henry was simply angelic to me--and asked me so seriously if he could +really make me happy, if not he would release me then. I felt if he +would take me, all bruised and restless, and comfort me and bring me +peace, I did indeed wish to be his wife--and if nothing more had +happened we might have grown quite happy from then, but we went to +England--and I saw you again--and--Oh! well, Michael, need I tell you +any more? You know how we fenced and how at last we could not bear +it--up in Mrs. Forster's room!" + +"It was the most delirious and most unhappy moment of my life, darling." + +"And now it is all over--isn't Henry a splendid man? I told him all this +yesterday--the Père Anselme had suggested to him to come and ask me for +the truth. He behaved too nobly--but I did not know what he intended to +do, nor if it were too late to stop the divorce or anything, so I was +miserable." + +"You shall not be so any more--we will go back to Arranstoun at once, +darling, and begin a new and glorious life together. From every point of +view that is the best thing to be done. We could not possibly go on all +staying here, it would be grotesque--and I am quite determined that I +will never leave you again--do you hear, Sabine?" And he turned her face +and made her look into his eyes. + +"Yes, I hear!--and know that you were always the most masterful +creature!" + +"Do you want to change me?" + +But Sabine let herself be clasped in his arms while she abandoned +herself to the deep passionate joy she felt. + +"No--Michael--I would not alter you in one little bit, we are neither of +us very good or very clever, but I just love you and you love me--and we +are mates! There!" + + * * * * * + +They carried out their plans and arrived at Arranstoun Castle a few days +later. Michael wired to have everything ready for their reception and +both experienced the most profound emotion when first they entered +Michael's sitting-room again. + +"There is the picture, darling, that you fell through and--here is Binko +waiting to receive and welcome you!" + +The mass of fat wrinkles got up from his basket and condescended, after +showing a wild but suppressed joy at the sight of his master, to be +re-introduced to his mistress who expressed due appreciation of his +beauty. + +"That old dog has been my only confidant about you, Sabine, ever since I +came back--he could tell you how frantic I was, couldn't you, Binko?" + +Binko slobbered his acquiescence and then the tea was brought in; Sabine +sat down to pour it out in the very chair she had sat in long ago. She +was taller now, but still her little feet did not reach the ground. + +The most ecstatic happiness was permeating them both, and it all seemed +like a divine dream to be there together and alone. They reconstructed +every incident of their first meeting in a fond duet--each supplying a +link, and they talked of all their new existence together and what it +would mean, and presently Michael drew Sabine toward the chapel where +the lights were all lit. + +"Darling," he whispered, "I want to make new vows of love and tenderness +to you here, because to-night is our real wedding night--I want you to +forget that other one and blot it right out." + +But Sabine moved very close to him as she clung to his arm, and her +whole soul was in her eyes as she answered: + +"I do not want to forget it. I know very well that I had begun to love +you even then. But, Michael--do you remember that undecorated window +which you told me had been left so probably for you to embellish as an +expiatory offering, because rapine and violence were in the blood--Well, +dear love, I think we must put up the most beautiful stained glass +together there--in memory of our little son. For we are equally to blame +for his brief life and death." + +But Michael was too moved to speak and could only clasp her hand. + + + THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man and the Moment, by Elinor Glyn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN AND THE MOMENT *** + +***** This file should be named 17048-8.txt or 17048-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/4/17048/ + +Produced by Stacy Brown Thellend, Suzanne Shell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Man and the Moment + +Author: Elinor Glyn + +Release Date: November 11, 2005 [EBook #17048] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN AND THE MOMENT *** + + + + +Produced by Stacy Brown Thellend, Suzanne Shell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i1.jpg"><img src="images/i1-th.jpg" width="400" height="609" alt="Frontispiece" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">"It all looked very intimate and lover-like" [Page 149]</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></span></p> +<h1 style="letter-spacing: .1em;">THE MAN AND</h1> +<h1 style="letter-spacing: .1em;">THE MOMENT</h1> + +<h5 style="margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: .4em;">BY</h5> +<h3 class="smush">ELINOR GLYN</h3> +<h5 class="smush">1914</h5> +<h4 style="margin-top: 1em;" class="smush">AUTHOR OF "GUINEVERE'S LOVER," "HALCYONE,"<br /> +"THE REASON WHY," ETC.</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px; margin-top: 4em;"> +<img src="images/colophon.jpg" width="75" height="85" alt="colophon" title="" /> +</div> + +<h5><span class="smcap">illustrated by</span><br /> +R. F. <span class="smcap">James</span></h5> + +<h3 style="margin-top: 3em;">NEW YORK<br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> +1914</h3> + +<p><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a></p> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914, by</span></h4> + +<h3>D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</h3> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914, by The Red Book Corporation</span></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table class="center" summary=""> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<div> +<a href="#Page_1">"It all looked very intimate and lover-like"</a> (<i>Frontispiece</i>)<br /> +<a href="#Page_53">"He bounded forward to meet her"</a><br /> +<a href="#Page_70">"His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant"</a><br /> +<a href="#Page_231">"'He is often in some scrape—something must have culminated to-night'"</a> +</div></td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> + +<table class="center" summary=""> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align: left;"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /></td> +<td style="text-align: left;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br /> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a></p> +<h2><a name="THE_MAN_AND_THE_MOMENT" id="THE_MAN_AND_THE_MOMENT"></a>THE MAN AND THE MOMENT</h2> + +<h2 style="margin-top: 3em;"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span><span class="smcap">ichael Arranstoun</span> folded a letter which he had been reading for the +seventh time, with a vicious intentness, and then jumping up from the +big leather chair in which he had been buried, he said aloud, "Damn!"<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>When a young, rich and good-looking man says that particular word aloud +with a fearful grind of the teeth, one may know that he is in the very +devil of a temper!</p> + +<p>Michael Arranstoun was!</p> + +<p>And, to be sure, he had ample reason, as you, my friend, who may happen +to have begun this tale, will presently see.</p> + +<p>It is really most irritating to be suddenly confronted with the +consequences of one's follies at any age, but at twenty-four, when +otherwise the whole life is smiling for one, it seems quite too hard.</p> + +<p>The frightful language this well-endowed young gentleman now indulged +in, half aloud and half in thought, would be quite impossible to put on +paper! It contained what almost amounted to curses for a certain lady +whose appearance, could she have been <span><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></span>seen at this moment, suggested +that of a pious little saint.</p> + +<p>"How the h—— can I keep from marrying her!" Mr. Arranstoun said more +than aloud this time, and then kicking an innocent footstool across the +room, he called his bulldog, put on his cap and stamped out on to the +old stone balcony which opened from this apartment, and was soon +stalking down the staircase and across the lawn to a little door in the +great fortified wall, which led into the park.</p> + +<p>He had hardly left the room when, from the wide arched doorway of his +bed-chamber beyond, there entered Mr. Johnson, his superior valet, +carrying some riding-boots and a silk shirt over his arm. You could see +through the open door that it was a very big and comfortable bedroom, +which had evidently been adapted to its present use from some much more +stately beginning. A large, vaulted chamber it was, with three narrow +windows looking on to the grim courtyard beneath.</p> + +<p>Michael Arranstoun had selected this particular suite for himself when +his father died ten years before, and his mother was left to spoil him, +until she, too, departed from this world when he was sixteen.</p> + +<p>What a splendid inheritance he had come into! This old border castle up +in the north—and not a mortgage on the entire property! While, from his +mother, a number of solid golden sovereigns flowed into his cof<span><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></span>fers +every year—obtained by trade! That was a little disgusting for the +Arranstouns—but extremely useful.</p> + +<p>It might have been from this same strain that the fortunate young man +had also inherited that common sense which made him fairly level-headed, +and not given as a rule to any over-mad taste.</p> + +<p>The Arranstouns had been at Arranstoun since the time of those tiresome +Picts and Scots—and for generations they had raided their neighbors' +castles and lands, and carried off their cattle and wives and daughters +and what not! They had seized anything they fancied, and were a strong, +ruthless, brutal race, not much vitiated by civilization. These +instincts of seizing what they wanted had gone on in them throughout +eleven hundred years and more, and were there until this day, when +Michael, the sole representative of this branch of the family, said +"Damn!" and kicked a footstool across the room into the grate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson was quite aware of the peculiarity of the family. Indeed, he +was not surprised when Alexander Armstrong remarked upon it presently. +Alexander Armstrong was the old retainer, who now enjoyed the position +of guide to the Castle upon the two days a week when tourists were +allowed to walk through the state rooms, and look at the splendid +carvings and armor and pictures, and the collection of plate.</p> + +<p>Johnson had had time to glance over his master's correspondence that +morning, which, with character<span><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a></span>istic recklessness, that gentleman had +left upon his bed while he went to his bath, so his servant knew the +cause of his bad temper, and had been prudent and kept a good deal out +of the way. But the news was so interesting, he felt Alexander Armstrong +really ought to share the thrill.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Hatfield's husband is dying," he announced, as Armstrong, very +diffidently, peeped through the window from the balcony, and then, +seeing no one but his friend the valet, entered the room.</p> + +<p>Alexander Armstrong spoke in broad Scotch, but I shall not attempt to +transcribe this barbaric language; sufficient to tell you that he made +the excuse for his intrusion by saying that he had wanted to get some +order from the master about the tourists.</p> + +<p>"We shan't have any tourists when she's installed here as mistress!" Mr. +Johnson remarked sepulchrally.</p> + +<p>Armstrong was heard to murmur that he did not know what Mr. Johnson +meant! This was too stupid!</p> + +<p>"Why, I told you straight off Mrs. Hatfield's husband is dying," Johnson +exclaimed, contemptuously. "She wrote one of her mauve billy doos this +morning, telling the master so, and suggesting they'd soon be able to be +married and happy—pretty cold-blooded, I call it, considering the poor +man is not yet in his grave!"</p> + +<p>Armstrong was almost knocked over by this statement; then he +laughed—and what he said meant in <span><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></span>plain English that Mr. Johnson need +not worry himself, for no Arranstoun had ever been known to be coerced +into any course of conduct which he did not desire himself—not being +hampered by consideration for women, or by any consideration but his own +will. For the matter of that, a headstrong, ruthless race all of them +and, as Mr. Johnson must be very well aware, their own particular master +was a true chip of the old block.</p> + +<p>"See his bonny blue eye—" (I think he pronounced it "ee"), "see his +mouth shut like a game spring. See his strong arms and his height! See +him smash the boughs off trees when they get in his way! and then tell +me a woman's going to get dominion over him. Go along, Mr. Johnson!"</p> + +<p>But Johnson remained unconvinced and troubled; he had had several +unpleasant proofs of woman's infernal cunning in his own sphere of life, +and Mrs. Hatfield, he knew, was as well endowed with Eve's wit as any +French maid.</p> + +<p>"We'll ha' a bet about it if you like," Armstrong remarked, as he got up +to go, the clock striking three. He knew the first batch of afternoon +tourists would be clamoring at the gate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson looked at the riding-boots in his hand.</p> + +<p>"He went straight off for his ride without tasting a bite of breakfast +or seeing Mr. Fordyce, and he didn't <span><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a></span>return to lunch, and just now I +find every article of clothing strewn upon the floor—when he came in +and took another bath—he did not even ring for me—he must have +galloped all the time; his temper would frighten a fighting cock."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Michael Arranstoun was tramping his park with giant strides, +and suddenly came upon his friend and guest, Henry Fordyce, whose very +presence in his house he had forgotten, so turbulent had his thoughts +been ever since the early post came in. Henry Fordyce was a leisurely +creature, and had come out for a stroll on the exquisite June day upon +his own account.</p> + +<p>They exchanged a few remarks, and gradually got back to Michael's +sitting-room again, and rang for drinks.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce had, by this time, become quite aware that an active volcano +was going on in his friend, but had waited for the first indication of +the cause. It came in the course of a conversation, after the footman +had left the room and both men were reclining in big chairs with their +iced whiskey and soda.</p> + +<p>"It is a shame to stay indoors on such a day," Henry said lazily, +looking out upon the balcony and the glittering sunshine.</p> + +<p>"I never saw anyone enjoy a holiday like you do, Henry," Michael +retorted, petulantly. "I can't enjoy anything lately. 'Pon my soul, it +is worth going into<span><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a></span> Parliament to get such an amount of pleasure out of +a week's freedom."</p> + +<p>But Henry did not agree that it was freedom, when even here at +Arranstoun he had been pestered to patronize the local bazaar.</p> + +<p>"The penalty of greatness! I wonder when you will be prime minister. +Lord, what a grind!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce stretched himself in his chair and lit a cigar.</p> + +<p>"It may be a grind," he said, meditatively, "but it is for some definite +idea of good—even if I am a slave; whereas you!—you are tied and bound +to a woman—and such a woman! You have not been able to call your soul +your own since last October as it is—and before you know where you are, +you will be attending the husband's funeral and your own wedding in the +same week!"</p> + +<p>Michael bounded from his chair with an oath. "I'll be shot if I do!" he +said, and sat down again. Then his voice grew a little uncertain, and he +went on:</p> + +<p>"It is worrying me awfully, though, Henry. If poor old Maurice does puff +out—I suppose I ought to marry her—I——"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce stiffened, and the sleepy look in his gray eyes altered to a +flash of steel.</p> + +<p>"Let us have a little plain speaking, Michael, old boy. It is not as +though I do not know the whole circumstance of your affair with Violet +Hatfield. I warned <span><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a></span>you about her in the beginning, when you met her at +my sister Rose's, but, as usual, you would take your own course——"</p> + +<p>Michael began to speak, but checked himself—and Henry Fordyce went on.</p> + +<p>"I have had a letter from Rose this morning—as you of course know, +Violet is staying for this Whitsuntide with them, having dragged her +wretched husband, dying of consumption as he is, to this merry party. +Well—Rose says poor Maurice is in a terrible state, caught a fresh cold +on Saturday—and she adds, 'So I suppose we shall soon see Violet +installed at Arranstoun as mistress.'"</p> + +<p>"I know—I heard from Violet herself this morning," and Michael put his +head down dejectedly.</p> + +<p>"Ebbsworth is only thirty-five miles from here," Mr. Fordyce announced +with meaning. "Violet can pop in on you at any moment, and she'll clinch +the matter and bind you with her cobwebs before you can escape."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!"</p> + +<p>"You know you are dead sick of her, Michael—and you know that I am not +the sort of man who would ever speak of a woman thus without grave +reason; but she does not care for you any more than the half a dozen +others who occupied your proud position before your day—it is only for +money and the glory of having you tied to her apron strings. It was not +any good hammering on while the passion was upon you; <span><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a></span>but I have +watched you, and have seen that it is waning, so now's my time. With +this danger in front of you, you have got to pull yourself together, old +boy, and cut and run."</p> + +<p>"That would be no use—" Then Michael stammered a little. "I say, Henry, +I won't hear a word against her. You can thunder at me—but leave her +out."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce smiled.</p> + +<p>"Did she express deep grief at poor Maurice's condition in her letter?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Er—no—not exactly——"</p> + +<p>"I thought not—she probably suggested all sorts of joys with you when +she is free!"</p> + +<p>There was an ominous silence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce's voice now took on that crisp tone which his adversaries in +the House of Commons so well knew meant that they must look to their +guns.</p> + +<p>"Delightful woman! A spider, I tell you, a roaring hypocrite, too, +bamboozling poor Rose into thinking her a virtuous, persecuted little +darling, with a noble passion for you, and my sister is a downright +person not easily fooled. At this moment, Violet is probably shedding +tears on her shoulder over poor Maurice, while she is plotting how soon +she can become mistress of Arranstoun. Good God! when I think of it—I +would rather get in a girl from the village and go through the ceremony +with her, and make myself safe, <span><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a></span>than have the prospect of Violet +Hatfield as a wife. Michael, I tell you seriously, dear boy—you won't +have the ghost of a chance if you are still unmarried when poor Maurice +dies!"</p> + +<p>Michael bounded from his chair once more. He was perfectly +furious—furious with the situation—furious with the woman—furious +with himself.</p> + +<p>"Confound it, Henry, I—know it—but it does not mend matters your +ranting there—and I am so sorry for the poor chap—Maurice, I mean—a +very decent fellow, poor Maurice! Can't you suggest any way out?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce mused a moment, while he deliberately puffed smoke, +Michael's impatience increasing so that he ran his hands through his +dark, smooth hair, whose shiny, immaculate brushing was usually his +pride!</p> + +<p>"Can't you suggest a way out?" he reiterated.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce did not reply—then after a moment: "You were always too +much occupied with women, Michael—from your first scrape when you left +Eton; and over this affair you have been a complete fool."</p> + +<p>Michael was heard to swear again.</p> + +<p>"You have been inconsistent, too, because you did not even employ your +usual ruthless methods of doing what you pleased with them. You have +simply drifted into allowing this vile creature's cobwebs to cling on to +your whole existence until you are almost paralyzed, <span><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a></span>and it seems to me +that an immediate marriage with someone else is your only way of escape. +Such a waste of your life! Just analyze the position. You have +everything in the world, this glorious place—an old +name—money—prestige—and if your inclinations do run to the material +side of things instead of the intellectual, they are still successful in +their demonstration. No one has a better eye for a horse, or is a finer +shot. The best at driven grouse for your age, my boy, I have ever seen. +You are full of force, Michael, and ought to do some decent +thing—instead of which you spoil the whole outlook by fooling after +this infernal woman—and you have not now the pluck to cut the Gordian +knot. She will drag you to the lowest depths——"</p> + +<p>Then he laughed. "And only think of that voice in one's ears all day +long! I would rather marry old Bessie at the South Lodge. She is +eighty-four, she tells me, and would soon leave you a widower."</p> + +<p>The first ray of hope shot into Michael's bright blue eyes—and he +exclaimed with a kind of joy, as he seized Binko, his bulldog, by his +fat, engaging throat:</p> + +<p>"Bessie! Old Bessie—By Jove, what an idea!—the very thing. She'd do it +for me like a shot, dear old body!"</p> + +<p>Binko gurgled and slobbered in sympathy.</p> + +<p>"She would be kind to you, too, Binko. She would not say she found your +hairs on every chair, and that <span><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a></span>you dribbled on her dress! She would not +tell your master that he left his cigarette-ash about, and she hated the +smell of smoke! She would not want this room for her boudoir, she——"</p> + +<p>Then he stopped his flow of words, suddenly catching sight of the +whimsical, sardonic smile upon his friend's face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" he mumbled, contritely. "I had forgotten you were here, +Henry. I am so jolly upset."</p> + +<p>"This heartlessness about poor Maurice has finished you, eh?" Mr. +Fordyce suggested. He felt he might be gaining his end.</p> + +<p>Michael covered his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>"It seems so ghastly to think of marriage with the poor chap not yet +dead—I am fairly knocked over—it really is the last straw—but she +will cry and make a scene—and she has certainly arguments—and it will +make one feel such a cad to leave her."</p> + +<p>"She wrote that—did she?—wrote of marriage and her husband's last +attack of hemorrhage in the same paragraph, I suppose. Michael, it is +revolting! My dear boy, you must break away from her—and then do try to +occupy yourself with more important things than women. Believe me, they +are all very well in their way and in their proper place—to be treated +with the greatest courtesy and respect as wives and mothers—even loved, +if you will, for a recreation—but as vital factors in a man's real +life! My dear fellow, the idea <span><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a></span>is ridiculous—that life should be for +his country and the development of his own soul——"</p> + +<p>Michael Arranstoun laughed.</p> + +<p>"Jolly old Mohammedan! You think women have none, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>Henry Fordyce frowned, because it was rather true—but he denied the +charge.</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the sort. Merely, I see things at their proper balance and +you cannot."</p> + +<p>Michael leaned back in his chair; he was quieter for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I only see what I want to see, Henry—and I am a savage—I cannot help +it—we have always been so. When I fancy a woman, I must obtain +her—when I want a horse, I must have it. It is always <i>must</i>—and we +have not done so badly. We still possess our shoulders and chins and +strength after eleven hundred years of it!" and he stretched out a +splendid arm, with a force which could have felled an ox.</p> + +<p>An undoubtedly fine specimen of British manhood he looked, sitting there +in the June sunlight, which came in a shaft from the south mullioned +window in the corner beyond the great fireplace, the space between +occupied by a large picture of uncertain date, depicting the landing of +Mary, Queen of Scots, in her northern kingdom.</p> + +<p>His eyes roamed to this.</p> + +<p>"One of my ancestors was among that party," he <span><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a></span>said, pointing to a +figure. "He had just killed a Moreton and stolen his wife, that is why +he looks so perky—the fellow in the blue doublet."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce rose from his chair and fired his last shot.</p> + +<p>"And now a female spider is going to paralyze the last Arranstoun, and +rule him for the rest of his days, sapping his vitality."</p> + +<p>But Michael protested.</p> + +<p>"By heaven, no!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll leave you to think about it. I am going for another stroll +on this lovely day." He had got to the window by this time, which looked +into the courtyard on the opposite side to the balcony. "Goodness! what +a party of tourists! It is a bore for you to have them all over the +place like this! To own a castle with state rooms to be shown to the +public has its disadvantages."</p> + +<p>Michael looked at them, too, a large party of Americans, mostly of that +class which compose the tourists of all countries, and which no nation +feels proud to own. He had seen hundreds of such, and turned away +indifferently.</p> + +<p>"They only come here twice a week, and it has been allowed for such +ages—they are generally quiet, and fortunately their perambulations +close at the end of the gallery. They don't intrude upon my own suite. +They get to the chapel by the outside door."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a></span>Henry crossed the room and went on to the balcony.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Hatfield will alter all that," he laughed, as he disappeared from +view.</p> + +<p>Michael flashed a rageful glance at his back, and then flung himself +into his great armchair again, and pulled the wrinkled mass, which +called itself a prize bulldog, on to his lap.</p> + +<p>"I believe he's right and we are caught, Binko. If we fled to the Rocky +Mountains, she would track us. If we stay and face it, she'll make an +almighty scandal and force us to marry her. What in the devil's name are +we to do——!"</p> + +<p>Binko licked his master's hands, and made noises, so full of gurgling, +slobbering sympathy, no heart could have remained uncomforted. Who +knows! His canine common sense may have telepathically transmitted a +thought, for Michael suddenly plopped him on the floor, and stalked +toward the fireplace to ring the bell, while he exclaimed, as though +answering a suggestion. "Yes, we'll send for old Bessie—that's the only +way."</p> + +<p>But before he could reach his goal, the picture of Mary, Queen of Scots, +landing fell forward with a crash, and through the aperture of a secret +door which it concealed, there tumbled a very young and pretty girl +right into the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span> +<span class="smcap">r. Arranstoun</span> was extremely startled and annoyed, too, and before he +took in the situation, he had exclaimed, while Binko gave an ominous +growl of displeasure:<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>"Confound it—who is that! These are private rooms!" Then, seeing it was +a girl on the floor, he said in another voice: "Quiet, Binko—" and the +dog retired to his own basket under a distant table. "Oh, I beg your +pardon—but——"</p> + +<p>The creature on the floor blinked at Michael with large, round, violet +eyes, but did not move, while she answered aggrievedly—with a very +faint accent, whether a little French or a little American, or a little +of both, he was not sure, only that it had something attractive about +it.</p> + +<p>"You may well say 'but'! I did not mean to intrude upon your private +room—but I had to run away from Mr. Greenbank—he was so horrid—" here +she gasped a little for breath—"and I happened to see something like a +door ajar in the Gainsborough room, so I fled through it, and it +fastened after me with a <span><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a></span>snap—I could not open it again—and it was +pitch dark in that dreadful passage and not a scrap of air—I felt +suffocated, and I pushed on anywhere—and something gave way and I fell +in here—that's all——"</p> + +<p>She rattled this out without a stop, and then stared at Michael with her +big, childish eyes, but did not attempt to rise from the floor.</p> + +<p>He walked toward her and held out his hand, and with ceremonious and +ironical politeness, he began:</p> + +<p>"May I not help you—I could offer you a chair——"</p> + +<p>She interrupted him while she struggled up, refusing his proffered hand.</p> + +<p>"I've knocked myself against your nasty table—why do you have it in +that place!"</p> + +<p>Michael sat down upon the edge of it, and went on in his ironical tone:</p> + +<p>"Had I known I was to have the honor of this visit, I should certainly +have had it moved."</p> + +<p>"There is no use being sarcastic," the girl said, almost crying now. "It +hurts very much, and—and—I want to go home."</p> + +<p>Mr. Arranstoun pushed a comfortable monster seat toward her, and said +more sympathetically:</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry—but where is home?"</p> + +<p>The girl sank into the chair, and smoothed out her pink cotton frock; +the skimpy skirt (not as narrow as <span><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a></span>in these days, but still short and +spare!) showed a perfect pair of feet and ankles.</p> + +<p>"She's American, of course, then," Michael said to himself, observing +these, "and quite pretty if that smudge of grime was off her face."</p> + +<p>She was looking at him now with her large, innocent eyes, which +contained no shadow of <i>gêne</i> over the unusual situation, and then she +answered quite simply:</p> + +<p>"I haven't a home, you know—I'm just staying at the Inn with Uncle +Mortimer and Aunt Jemima and—and—Mr. Greenbank—and we are tourists, I +suppose, and were looking at the pictures—when—when I had to run +away."</p> + +<p>Michael felt a little piqued with curiosity; she was a diversion after +his perplexing, irritating meditations.</p> + +<p>"It would be so interesting to hear why you ran away—the whole story?" +he suggested.</p> + +<p>The girl turned her head and looked out of the window, showing a dear +little baby profile, and masses of light brown hair rolled up anyhow at +the back. She did not look older than seventeen at the outside, and was +peculiarly childish and slender for that.</p> + +<p>"But I should have to tell you from the beginning, and it is so +long—and you are a stranger."</p> + +<p>Michael drew another chair nearer to her, and sat down, while his manner +took on a note of grave, elderly concern, which rather belied the +twinkle of mischief in his eyes.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a></span>"Never mind that—I am sympathetic, and I am your host—and, by +Jove!—won't you have some tea! You look awfully tired and—dusty," and +he rang the bell, and then reseated himself. "See, to be quite orthodox, +we will make our own introduction—I am Michael Arranstoun—and you +are——?"</p> + +<p>The girl rose and made him a polite bow. "I am Sabine Delburg," she +announced. He bowed also—and then she went into a peal of silvery +laughter that seemed to contain all the glad notes of spring and youth. +"Oh, this is fun! and I—I should like some tea!" She caught sight of +herself in an old mirror, which stood upon a commode. "Goodness, what a +guy I look! Why didn't you tell me that my hat was crooked!" She settled +it straight, and began searching for a handkerchief up her sleeve and in +her belt, but none was to be found.</p> + +<p>So Mr. Arranstoun handed her a clean one he chanced to have in his +pocket. "I expect you want to wipe the smudge of dirt off your face," he +hazarded.</p> + +<p>She took it laughing, and showing an even row of beautiful teeth between +red, full baby lips.</p> + +<p>"You are the owner of this castle," she went on, as she gave firm rubs +at the velvet pink cheeks. "That must be nice. You can do what you like, +I suppose," and here a sigh of regret escaped and made her voice lower.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a></span>"I wish I <i>could</i>," Mr. Arranstoun answered feelingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, if I were <i>a man</i>, I would!"</p> + +<p>"What would you do?"</p> + +<p>She turned and faced him, while she said, with extreme solemnity:</p> + +<p>"I should never marry Mr. Greenbank."</p> + +<p>Michael laughed.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you would if you were a man!" At this moment, a footman +answered the bell. "Bring tea, please," his master ordered, inwardly +amused at the servant's astonished face, and then when they were alone +again, he continued his sympathetic questioning.</p> + +<p>"Who is Mr. Greenbank? You had to flee from him—you said he was horrid, +I believe?"</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg had removed her hat, and was trying to tidy her hair before +readjusting it; she had the hat-pin in her mouth, but took it out to +answer vehemently:</p> + +<p>"So he is, a pig! And I went and got engaged to him this morning! You +see," turning to the glass again, quite unembarrassed, "I can't get my +money until I am married—and Uncle is so disagreeable, and Aunt Jemima +nags all day long, and it was left in Papa's will that I was to live +with them—and I don't come of age until I am twenty-one, but I can get +the money directly if I marry—I was seventeen in May, and of course no +one could stand it till twenty-one! Mr.<span><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a></span> Greenbank is the only person +who has asked me, and Aunt Jemima says no one else ever will! I have +been out of the Convent for a whole month, and I can't bear it."</p> + +<p>Michael was beginning really to enjoy himself. She was something so +fresh, so entirely different to anything he had ever seen in his life +before. There was nothing of shyness or awkwardness in her manner, as +any English girl would have shown. She was absolutely at ease, with a +childish, confiding innocence which he saw plainly was real, and not put +on for his benefit. It was almost incredible in these up-to-date days. A +most engaging morsel of seventeen summers, he decided, as he answered +with over-grave concern:</p> + +<p>"What a hard fate!—but you have not told me yet why you ran away!"</p> + +<p>The girl had finished her toilet by now, and reseated herself with a +grown-up air in the big armchair.</p> + +<p>"Oh! well, he was just—horrid—that was all," and then abruptly turning +the conversation, "It is a nice place you have here, and it does feel +lovely doing something wrong like this—having tea with you, I mean. You +know, I have never spoken to a young man before. The Nuns always told us +they were dreadful creatures—but you don't look so bad—" and she +examined her host critically.</p> + +<p>Michael accepted the implied appreciation.</p> + +<p>"What is Mr. Greenbank, then?"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a></span>The silver laugh rang out again, while she jumped up and peeped from +the window into the courtyard.</p> + +<p>"Samuel—he's only a thing! Oh! Uncle and Aunt would be so angry if they +could see me here! And I expect they are all in a fine fuss now to know +what has happened to me! They never saw me go through the door, and I +hope they think that I've committed suicide out of one of the windows. +Look!" and she danced excitedly, "there is Uncle talking to the +commissionaire. Oh, what fun!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Arranstoun peeped, too—and saw a spare, elderly American of grim +appearance in anxious confab with Alexander Armstrong.</p> + +<p>The whole situation struck him as delightful, and he laughed gaily, +while he suggested: "You are perhaps rather a difficult charge?"</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg resented this at once.</p> + +<p>"What an idea! How would you like to marry Mr. Greenbank, or stay with +Aunt Jemima for four years!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I can't contemplate it, as I am not a girl!"</p> + +<p>Again those white teeth showed, and the violet eyes were suffused with +laughter.</p> + +<p>"No! Of course not. How silly I am—but I mean, how would you care to be +forced to do something you did not like?"</p> + +<p>Michael thought of his own fate.</p> + +<p>"By Jove! I should hate it!"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a></span>"Well—you can understand me!"</p> + +<p>Then the door opened, and the butler and footman brought in the tea, +eyeing their master's guest furtively, while they maintained that +superbly aloof manner of well-bred English servants. The pause their +entrance caused gave Mr. Arranstoun time to think, and an idea gradually +began to unfold itself in his brain—and unconsciously he took out, and +then replaced in his breast pocket, a mauve, closely-written letter, +while a frown of deep cogitation crept over his face.</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg, for her part, was only thrilled with the sight of the very +agreeable tea, and after waiting a moment to see what her preoccupied +host would do when the servants left the room, hunger forced her to fall +to the temptation of a particularly appetizing chocolate cake, which she +surreptitiously seized, and began munching with the frank joy of a +child.</p> + +<p>"I do love them!" she sighed, "and we never were allowed them, only once +a month after Moravia Cloudwater got that awful toothache, and had to +have a big grinder pulled out."</p> + +<p>Michael was paying no attention to her; he had walked rapidly up and +down the room once or twice, much to her astonishment.</p> + +<p>At last he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I have an idea—but first let me give you some tea—No—do help +yourself," then he paused awkwardly, and she at once proceeded to fill +her cup.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a></span>Binko had condescended to emerge from his basket under the table. +Tea-time was an hour when he allowed himself to take an interest in +human beings.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you darling!" the girl cried, putting down her cup. "You fat, +lovely, wrinkly darling!"</p> + +<p>"He is a nice dog," his master admitted; his voice was actually +nervous—and he pulled Binko to him by his solid, fleshy paws, while he +sat down in his chair again.</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg had got back into her seat, where she munched a cake and +continued her tea. The chair was so deep and long that her little bits +of feet did not nearly reach the ground, but dangled there.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't I pour you out some, too?" she asked, getting forward again. "I +do love to pour out—and do you take sugar—? I like lumps and lumps of +it."</p> + +<p>"Oh—er—yes," Michael agreed absently, and then he went on with the +determined air of a person getting something off his chest. "I hardly +know how to say what I am thinking of, it sounds so strange. Listen—I +also must marry someone—anyone—to avert a fate I don't want—What do +you say to marrying <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>The teapot came down into the tray with a bump, while the round, +childish eyes grew like saucers with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"I dare say it does surprise you—" Michael then <span><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a></span>hastened to add. "I +mean, we should only go through the ceremony, of course, and you could +get your money and I my freedom."</p> + +<p>The girl clasped her hands round her knees.</p> + +<p>"And I should never have to see you again?" in a glad voice of +comprehension.</p> + +<p>Michael leaned forward nearer to her.</p> + +<p>"Well—no—never, unless you wished."</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg actually kicked her feet with delight.</p> + +<p>"It is a perfectly splendid suggestion," she announced. "We could just +oblige one another in this way, and need never see or speak to each +other again. What made it come into your head? Do you really think we +could do that—Oh! how rude of me—I've forgotten to pour out your tea!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, talking about—our marriage—is more interesting," and Mr. +Arranstoun's blue eyes filled with mischievous appreciation of the +situation, even beyond the seriousness of the discussion he meant to +carry to an end. But this aspect did not so much concern Miss Delburg, +as that she had let slip a particular pleasure for the moment, that of +being allowed a teapot in her own hand, instead of being given a huge +bowl of milk with a drop of weak coffee mixed in it, and watching a like +fate fall upon her companions.</p> + +<p>When this delightful business was accomplished to her satisfaction, her +sweet little round face a model of serious responsibility the while, she +handed Michael <span><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a></span>the cup and drew herself back once more into the depth +of the giant chair.</p> + +<p>"I can't behave nicely in this great creature," she said, patting the +fat cushioned arms, "and the Mother Superior would be horribly shocked, +but don't let's mind. Now, do tell me something about this plan. You +see," gravely, "I really don't know the world very well yet—I have +always been at the Convent near Tours until a month ago—even in the +holidays, since I was seven—and the Sisters never told me anything +about outside, except that it was a place of pitfalls and that men were +dreadful creatures. I was very happy there, except I wanted to get out +all the time, and when I did and found Uncle and Aunt more tiresome than +the Sisters—there seemed no help for it—only Mr. Greenbank. So I +accepted him this morning. But—" and this awful thought caused her +whole countenance to change. "Now I come to think of it, the usual +getting married means you would have to stay with the man—wouldn't you? +And he wants—he wants to kiss—I mean," hurriedly, "you would be lovely +to marry because I would never have to see you again!"</p> + +<p>Michael Arranstoun put his head back and laughed; she was perfectly +delicious—he began to dislike Mr. Greenbank.</p> + +<p>His tea was quite forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Er—of course not," he agreed. "Well, I could get <span><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a></span>a special license, +if you could tell me exactly how you stand, and your whole name and your +parents' names, and everything, and we could get their consent—but I +conclude your father, at least, is no longer alive."</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg had a very grown-up air now.</p> + +<p>"No, my parents are both dead," she told him. "Papa three years ago, and +Mamma for ages, and I never saw them much anyhow. They were always +travelling about, and Mamma was a Frenchwoman and a Catholic. Her family +did not speak to her because she married a Protestant and an American. +And the worry it was for me being brought up in a convent! because Papa +would have me a Protestant, so I do believe I have got a little religion +of my own that is not like either!"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>She continued her narrative in the intervals of the joy of munching +another cake.</p> + +<p>"Papa was very rich, and it's all mine—Only it appears he did not +approve of the freedom of American women—and so tied it up so that I +can't get it until I am an old maid of twenty-one—or get married. Is it +not disgusting?"</p> + +<p>Michael's thoughts were now concentrating upon the vital points.</p> + +<p>"But have you not got a guardian or something?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. Only an old lawyer person who is now in London. I have +seen Papa's will, and I know<span><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a></span> I can marry when and whom I like if I get +his consent—and he would give it in a minute, he is sick of me!"</p> + +<p>"How fortunate!" Then restlessness seized him again, and he got up, +gulped down his tea, and began his pacing.</p> + +<p>"I do think it would be a good plan, and we must do it if we can get +this person's leave—Yes, and do it quickly before we change our minds, +or something interferes. Everyone would think we were perfectly mad, but +as it suits us both, that is no one's business—Only—you are rather +young—and er—I don't know Greenbank. You are sure he is horrid?"</p> + +<p>The girl clasped her hands together with force.</p> + +<p>"Sure! I should think so—He wears glasses, and has nasty, scrabbly bits +of fur on his face, which he thinks is a beard, and he is pompous and he +talks like this," and she imitated a precise Boston voice. "'My dear +Sabine—have you considered,' and he is lanky—and Oh! I detest him, and +I can't imagine why I ever said I would marry him—but if I don't, what +<i>am</i> I to do with Aunt Jemima for four years! I should die of it."</p> + +<p>Michael sat on the edge of the table and looked at her long and deeply. +He took in the childish picture she made in the big chair. He had no +definite appreciation then of her charm, his mind was too fixed upon +what seemed a prospect of certain escape from Violet Hatfield and her +cunning thirty years of experience. This young thing could not interfere +with him, and <span><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a></span>divorces in Scotland were not impossible things—they +would both gain what they wanted for the time, and it was a fair +bargain. So he said, after a moment:</p> + +<p>"I will go up to London to-morrow, and if it is as you say that you are +free to marry whom and when you will, I will try to get this old +lawyer's consent and a special license—But how about your Uncle? Has he +not any legal right over you?"</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg laughed contentedly.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least—only that I have to live with him until I am married. +Mr. Parsons—that's the lawyer's name—hates him, and he hates Mr. +Parsons. So I know Mr. Parsons will be delighted to spite him by giving +his consent, if you just say Uncle Mortimer is trying to force me into a +marriage against my will with his nephew—Samuel Greenbank is his +nephew, you know—no relation to me. It is Aunt Jemima who is Papa's +sister."</p> + +<p>All this seemed quite convincing. Michael felt relieved.</p> + +<p>"I see," he said. "Well, it appears simple enough. I believe I could be +back by Thursday, and I could have my chaplain and a friend of mine, and +we could get the affair over in the chapel—and then you can go back to +the Inn with your certificate—and I can go to Paris—free!" And his +thoughts added, "And even if poor Maurice does die soon, I need fear +nothing!"</p> + +<p>Now that their two fates seemed settled, Miss Del<span><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a></span>burg got out of the +chair and stood up in a dignified way; her soft cheeks were the color of +a glowing pink rose, and her violet eyes shone with fun and excitement, +her little, irregular features and perfect teeth seemed to add to the +infantine aspect of the picture she made in her unfashionable pink +cotton frock. Dress had been strongly discouraged at the Convent, and +was looked upon by Aunt Jemima, a strict New Englander, as a snare of +the devil, but even the garment, in the selecting of which she had had +no hand, seemed to hang with grace upon the child's slim figure.</p> + +<p>Not a doubt as to the future clouded her thoughts; it was all a glorious +piece of fun, and of all the daring tricks she had perpetrated at the +Convent to get chocolates, or climb a tree, or have a midnight orgy of +cake and sirop, none had been so exciting as this—to go through the +ceremony of marriage and be free for life!</p> + +<p>Her education had been of the most elementary, and the whole aim of +those placed over her had been to keep her as innocent and ignorant as a +child of ten. Not a single problem of life had ever presented itself to +her naturally intelligent mind. She had read no books, conversed with no +grown-up people, played with no one but her companions, three American +girls and a few French ones, and the simple Nuns. And since her +emancipation, she had but wandered in the English lakes with her uncle +and aunt and Samuel Greenbank, and so had come to Arranstoun like any +other tourist <span><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a></span>to see this famous castle still inhabited after eleven +hundred years.</p> + +<p>In these days of women giving daily proof of their capability for +irritating mischief, if not of their ability to rule nations, Sabine +Delburg was a very unique being, and could not have existed but for a +combination of rare circumstances, as she was half American and half +French and had inherited the quick understanding of both nations. But +from the age of seven, she had never seen the outside world. It is not +my place, in any case, to explain what she was or was not. The creature, +with all her faults and charms, is there to speak for herself—and if +you, my friend, who are reading this tale on a summer's day do not feel +you want to hear any more of what happened to these two young things, by +all means put down the book and go your way!</p> + +<p>So let us get back to Mr. Arranstoun's sitting-room and the June +afternoon, and we shall hear Miss Delburg saying, in her childish voice +of joy:</p> + +<p>"Nothing could be better—I always did like doing mad things. It will be +the greatest fun! Think of their faces when I prance in and say I am +married! Then I will snap my fingers at them and go off and see the +world."</p> + +<p>Michael knelt upon a low old <i>prie dieu</i> which was near, and looked into +her face—while he asked, whimsically:</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a></span>"I do wonder where you will begin."</p> + +<p>Miss Delburg now sat upon the edge of the table; this was a grave +question and must be answered at leisure, though without indecision.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know," she announced. "There was my great friend, Moravia +Cloudwater, at the Convent. She was older than me, and went to Paris +with her father and married an Italian prince last year. I have heard +from her since, and she has often wanted me to go and stay with her in +Rome—and I shall now. Morri and I are the dearest friends—and her +things did look lovely the day she came to see us at Tours—with the +prince's coronet on them—" and then the first shadow came to her +contentment. "That is the only pity about you—even with a castle, you +haven't a coronet, I suppose?" regretfully. "I should have liked one on +my handkerchiefs and note-paper."</p> + +<p>Michael felt his shortcomings.</p> + +<p>"The title was taken away when we followed Prince Charlie and we only +got back the land by the skin of our teeth after an awful business so I +am afraid I cannot do that for you—but perhaps," consolingly, "you will +have better luck next time."</p> + +<p>This brought some comfort.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course! we can get a divorce—as soon as we want. Moravia had +an aunt, who simply went to Sioux Falls and got one at once and married +someone else, so it's not the least trouble. Oh, I am <span><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a></span>glad you have +thought of this plan. It is clever of you!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Arranstoun felt that he was becoming rather too interested in +his—<i>fiancée</i> and time was passing. Her family might discover where she +was—or Henry might return; he must clinch matters finally.</p> + +<p>"I think we must come to business details now," he said. "Had you not +better write a letter to Mr. Parsons that I could take, stating your +wishes; and will you also write down upon another piece of paper all the +details of your name, age—and so forth——"</p> + +<p>He now showed her his writing-table and gave her paper and pens to +choose from.</p> + +<p>She sat down gravely, and put her hands to her head as one thinking +hard. Then she began rapidly to write—while Mr. Arranstoun watched her +from the hearth-rug, to where he had retired.</p> + +<p>She evidently wrote out the statistics required first, and then began +her letter. And at last she turned a rogue's face with a perplexed frown +on it, while she bit her pen.</p> + +<p>"How do you spell indigenous, please?"</p> + +<p>He started forward.</p> + +<p>"'Indigenous'?—what a grand word!—i-n-d-i-g-e-n-o-u-s."</p> + +<p>"One has to be grand when writing business letters," she told him, +condescendingly, and then finished her missive.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a></span>"There—that will do! Now listen!"</p> + +<p>She got up and stood with the sheet in her hand, and read off the +remarkable document without worrying much about stops or commas.</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> +<p><span class="smcap">"Dear Mr. Parsons:</span></p> + +<p>"Papa said I could marry who I wanted to provided that he was +decent, so please give your written consent to the <i>grand seigneur</i> +who brings this. His name is Arranstoun, and he is indigenous to +this Castle, and really an aristocrat who papa and mamma would have +approved of, although he unfortunately has no title——"</p> +</div> + +<p class="padtop">"I had to put in that, you see," and she looked up explainingly, +"because it sounds so ordinary if he'd never heard of Arranstoun—we +wouldn't have, only Uncle Mortimer was looking out for old ruins to +visit—well," and she continued her recital, while Michael lowered his +head to hide the smile in his eyes.</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +<p>"We wish to get married on Thursday so please be quick about the +consent, as Uncle Mortimer wants me to marry his nephew, Samuel +Greenbank, who I hate. Agree, sir, the expression of my sentiments, +the most distinguished</p> + +<p class="smcap" style="text-align: right;">"Sabine Delburg."</p> + +<p>"P. S. I will want all my money, 50,000 dollars a year I believe it +is, on Friday morning."</p> +</div> + +<p class="padtop">Then she looked up with pride.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a></span>"Don't you think that will do?"</p> + +<p>Michael was overcome—his voice shook with enchanted mirth.</p> + +<p>"Admirably," he assured her, with what solemnity he could.</p> + +<p>Sabine seemed thoroughly satisfied with herself.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, then. Now I must be off, or they will be coming to +look for me, and that would be a bore."</p> + +<p>"But we have not made all the arrangements for our wedding." The +prospective bridegroom thought it prudent to remind her. "When can you +come on Thursday? My train gets in about six."</p> + +<p>"Thursday," and she contracted her dark eyebrows. "Let me see—Yes, we +are staying until Saturday to see the remains of Elbank Monastery—but I +don't know how I can slip away, unless—only it would be so late. I +could say I had a headache and go to bed early without dinner, and get +here about eight while they were having theirs. It is still quite +light—I often had to pretend things at the Convent to get a moment's +peace."</p> + +<p>Michael reflected.</p> + +<p>"Better not chance eight—as you say it is quite light then and they +might see you. Slip out of the hotel at nine. The park gate is, as you +know, right across the road. I will wait for you inside, and we can walk +here in a few minutes—and come up these balcony steps—<span><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a></span>and the chapel +is down that passage—through this door. See."</p> + +<p>He went and opened the door, and she followed him—talking as she +walked.</p> + +<p>"Nine! Oh! that is late—I have never been out so late before—but it +can't matter—just this once—can it? And here in the north it is so +funny; it is light at nine, too! Perhaps it would be safest." Then, +peering down the vaulted passage and drawing back, "It is a gloomy hole +to get married in!"</p> + +<p>"You won't say so when you see the chapel itself," he reassured her. "It +is rather a beautiful place. Whenever any of my ancestors committed a +particularly atrocious raid, and wanted to be absolved for their sins, +they put in a window or a painting or carving. The family was Catholic +until my grandfather's time, and then High Church, so the glories have +remained untouched."</p> + +<p>Sabine kept close to him as they walked, as a child afraid of the dark +would have done. It seemed to her too like her recent experience of the +secret passage, and then she exclaimed in a voice of frank awe and +admiration, when he opened the nail-studded, iron-bound door at the end:</p> + +<p>"Oh! how divine!"</p> + +<p>And it was indeed. A gem of the finest period of early Gothic +architecture, adorned with all trophies which love, fear and contrition +could compel from the <span><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a></span>art of the ages. Glorious colored lights swept +down in shafts from matchless stained glass, and the high altar was a +blaze of richness, while beautiful paintings and tapestries covered the +walls.</p> + +<p>It was gorgeous and sumptuous, and unlike anything else in England or +Scotland. It might have been the private chapel of a proud, voluptuous +Cardinal in Rome's great days.</p> + +<p>"Why is that one little window plain?" Sabine asked.</p> + +<p>Then Michael answered with a cynical note in his voice:</p> + +<p>"It is left for me—I, who am the last of them, to put up some expiatory +offering, I expect. Rapine and violence are in the blood," and then he +laughed lightly, and led her back through the gloom to his sitting-room. +There was a strange, fierce light in his bright blue eyes, which the +child-woman did not see, and which, if she had perceived, she would not +have understood any more than he understood it himself—for no concrete +thought had yet come to him about the future. Only, there underneath was +that mighty force, relentless, inexorable, of heredity, causing the +instinct which had dominated the Arranstouns for eleven hundred years.</p> + +<p>He did not seek to detain his guest and promised bride—but, with great +courtesy, he showed her the way down the stairs of the lawn, and so +through the postern into the park, and he watched her slender form trip +off <span><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a></span>towards the gate which was opposite the Inn, her last words ringing +in his ears in answer to his final question.</p> + +<p>"No, I shall not fail—I will leave the Crown at nine o'clock exactly on +Thursday."</p> + +<p>Then turning, he retraced his steps to his sitting-room, and there found +Henry Fordyce returned.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span> +<span class="smcap">ell</span>, old boy!" Mr. Fordyce greeted him with. "You should have been +with me and had a good round of golf—but perhaps, though, you have made +up your mind!"<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>Michael flung himself into his great chair.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I have—and I have got a fiancée."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce was not disturbed; he did not even answer this absurd +remark, he just puffed his cigar—cigarettes were beneath his notice.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem very interested," his host ejaculated, rather +aggrievedly.</p> + +<p>"Tommyrot!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you, it is true. I have got a fiancée."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, you are mad!"</p> + +<p>"No, I assure you I am quite sane—I have found a way out of the +difficulty—an angel has dropped from the clouds to save me from Violet +Hatfield."</p> + +<p>Henry Fordyce was actually startled. Michael looked as though he were +talking seriously.</p> + +<p>"But where did she come from? What the—Oh! I have no patience with you, +you old fool! You are playing some comedy upon me!"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a></span>"Henry, I give you my word, I'm not—I am going to marry a most +presentable young person at nine o'clock on Thursday night in the chapel +here—and you are going to stay and be best man." Then his excitement +began to rise again, and he got up from his chair and paced up and down +restlessly. "It is the very thing. She wants her money and I want my +freedom. She gets hers by marriage, and I get mine. I don't care a rush +for domestic bliss, it has never appealed to me; and the fellow in +Australia who'll come after me has got a boy who will do all right, no +doubt, for the old place by and by. I shall have a perfectly free time +and no responsibilities—and, thank the Lord! no more women for me for +the future. I have done with the snakes. I shall be happy and free for +the first time for a whole year!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce actually let his cigar go out. This incredible story was +beginning to have an effect upon him.</p> + +<p>"But where did she come from?" he asked blandly, as one speaks to a +harmless imbecile. "I leave you here in an abject state of despair, +ready almost to decide upon marrying old Bessie, and I return in an hour +and you inform me everything is settled, and you are the fiancé of +another lady! You know, you surprise me, Michael—'Pon my word, you do!"</p> + +<p>Michael laughed, it was really a huge joke.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is quite true. Well, just as I was going to <span><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a></span>ring and send +James for Bessie to talk it over with her, there was no end of a +smash—as you see—and a girl—a tourist—fell through the secret door. +I haven't opened it for five years. She was running away from a horrid +fellow she was engaged to, it seems, and fled into the passage, and the +door shut after her and she could not get out, so she pushed on in +here."</p> + +<p>"It adds dramatic color to the story, the girl being engaged to someone +else—pray go on."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce had now picked up his cigar again. This preposterous tale no +longer interested him. He thought it even rather bad taste on the part +of his friend.</p> + +<p>"All right!" Michael explained. "You need not believe me if you don't +like. I don't care, since I have done what I wanted to. Bar chaff, +Henry, I am telling you the truth. The girl appears to be a young woman +of decision. She explained at once her circumstances, and it struck us +both that to go through the ceremony of marriage would smooth all our +difficulties. We can easily get the bond annulled later on."</p> + +<p>Henry Fordyce put down his cigar again.</p> + +<p>"I am off to town to-night. You won't mind, will you?" Michael went on. +"Just to see if everything is all right, and to get her guardian's +consent and a special license, and I shall be back by the six o'clock +train on Thursday in time to get the ceremony over that night; and then, +by the early morning express, if you'll <span><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a></span>wait till then, we'll go South +together, and so for Paris and freedom!"</p> + +<p>Henry actually rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>"And the bride?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Michael laughed. "Oh, she may go to the moon, for all I care; she leaves +directly after the ceremony with her certificate of marriage, which she +means to brandish in the face of her relations, who are staying at the +Inn, and so exit out of my life! It is only an affair of expediency."</p> + +<p>"It is the affair of a madman."</p> + +<p>Michael frowned, and his firm chin looked aggressive.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing of the kind. You told me yourself that you would rather +marry old Bessie—a woman of eighty-four—than Violet Hatfield; and now, +when I have found a much more suitable person—a pretty little lady—you +begin to talk. My mind is made up, and there is an end of it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Bessie would have been much more suitable—a plain pretext; but you +have no idea what complications you may be storing up for yourself by +marrying a young girl—What is the sense in it?" he continued, a little +excited now. "The younger and prettier she is makes her all the more +unsuitable to be used merely as a tool in your game. Confound it, +Michael!"</p> + +<p>"And her game, too," his host reminded him. His <span><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a></span>eyes were flashing now, +and that expression, which all his underlings knew meant he intended to +have his own will at any cost, grew upon his face.</p> + +<p>"You forget that in Scotland divorce is not an impossibility and—<i>I am +going to do it, Henry</i>. Now, I had better write to old Fergusson, my +chaplain, and tell him to be in readiness, and I suppose I ought to see +my lawyers in Edinburgh, although, as there are no settlements and it is +just between ourselves, perhaps it does not matter about them."</p> + +<p>"How old is the girl?" Mr. Fordyce felt it prudent to ask. "It is a +pretty serious thing you contemplate, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh! rot!—she is seventeen, I believe—and for that sort of a marriage +and mere business arrangement, her age is no consequence."</p> + +<p>Henry turned to the window and looked out for a moment, then he said +gravely:</p> + +<p>"Is it quite fair to her?"</p> + +<p>Michael had gone to his writing-table, and was busily scribbling to his +chaplain, but he looked over his shoulder startled, and then a gleam of +blue fire came into his eyes, and his handsome mouth shut like a vise.</p> + +<p>"Of course, it is quite fair. She wishes to be free as much as I do. She +gets what she wants and I get what I want—a mere ceremony can be +annulled at any time. She jumped at the idea, I tell you, Henry—I have +not got time to go into the pros and cons of that side of <span><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a></span>the question, +and I don't want to hear your views or any one else's on the matter. I +mean to marry the girl on Thursday night—and you can quite well put off +going South until Friday morning, and see me through it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fordyce prepared to go towards the door, and when there said, in a +voice of ice:</p> + +<p>"I shall do no such thing. I cannot prevent your doing this, I +suppose—taking advantage of a young girl for your own ends, it seems to +me—so I shall go now."</p> + +<p>Michael's temper began to blaze with this, his oldest friend.</p> + +<p>"As you please," he flashed. "But it is perfect rot, all this high +palaver. The girl gains by it as well as I. I am not taking the least +advantage of her. I shall have to get her guardian's consent, and I +suppose he'll know what he is up to. I have never taken any one's +advice, and I am not going to begin now, old boy—so we had better say +good-bye if you won't stop."</p> + +<p>He came over to the door, and then he smiled his radiant, irresistible +smile so like a mischievous jolly boy's.</p> + +<p>"Give me joy, Henry, old friend," he said, and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>But Henry Fordyce looked grave as a judge as he took it.</p> + +<p>"I can't do that, Michael. I am very angry with <span><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></span>you. I have known you +ever since you were born, and we have been real pals, although I am so +much older than you—but I'm damned if I'll stay and see you through +this folly. Good-bye." And without a word further he went out of the +room, closing the door softly behind him.</p> + +<p>Michael gave a sort of whoop to Binko, who sprang at him in love and +excitement, while he cried:</p> + +<p>"Very well! Get along, old saint!"</p> + +<p>Then he rang the bell, and to the footman when he came he handed the +note he had written to be taken to Mr. Fergusson, and sent orders for +Johnson to pack for two nights, and for his motor to be ready to catch +the 10:40 express at the junction for London town. Then he seized his +cap and, calling Binko, he went off into the garden, and so on to the +park and to the golf house, where, securing his professional, he played +a vigorous round, and when he got back to the castle again, just before +dinner, he was informed that Mr. Fordyce had left in his own motor for +Edinburgh.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> +<span class="smcap">n</span> opalescence of soft light and peace and beauty was over the park of +Arranstoun on this June night of its master's wedding, and he walked +among the giant trees to the South Lodge gate, only a few hundred yards +from the postern, which he reached from his sitting-room. All had gone +well in London. Mr. Parsons had raised no objection, being indeed +greatly flattered at the proposed alliance—for who had not heard of the +famous border Castle of Arranstoun and envied its possessor?<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>They had talked a long time and settled everything.</p> + +<p>"Tie up the whole of Miss Delburg's money entirely upon herself," Mr. +Arranstoun had said—"if it is not already done—then we need not bother +about settlements. I understand that she is well provided for."</p> + +<p>"And how about your future children?" Mr. Parsons asked.</p> + +<p>Michael stiffened suddenly as he looked out of the office window.</p> + +<p>"Oh—er, they will naturally have all I possess," he returned quickly.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a></span>And now as he neared the Lodge gate, and nine o'clock struck, a +suppressed excitement was in his veins. For no matter how eventful your +life may be, or how accustomed you are to chances and vivid amusements, +to be facing a marriage ceremony with a practically unknown young woman +has aspects of originality in it calculated to set the pulses in motion.</p> + +<p>He had almost forgotten that side of the affair which meant freedom and +safety for him from the claws of the Spider—although he had learned +upon his return home from London that she had, as Henry Fordyce had +predicted that she might, "popped in upon him," having motored over from +Ebbsworth, and had left him a letter of surprised, intense displeasure +at his unannounced absence.</p> + +<p>When five minutes had passed, and there was as yet no sign of his +promised bride crossing the road from the Inn, Mr. Arranstoun began to +experience an unpleasant impatience. The quarter chimed—his temper +rose—had she been playing a trick upon him and never intended at any +time to come? He grew furious—and paced the fine turf behind the Lodge, +swearing hotly as was his wont when enraged.</p> + +<p>Then he saw a little figure wrapped in a gray dust cloak much too big +for it advancing cautiously to the gate in the twilight, and he bounded +forward to meet her and to open the narrow side-entrance before the<span><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a></span> +Lodge-keeper, Old Bessie, could have time to see who was there.</p> + +<p>"At last!" he cried, when they were safely inside and had gone a few +paces along the avenue. "I was beginning to think you did not mean to +keep your word! I am glad you have come!"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I meant to keep my word. I never break it," Sabine said +astonished. "I am longing to be free just like you are, but I had an +awful business to get away! I have never been so excited in my life! +Their train was late—some breakdown on the branch line—they did not +get in until half-past eight, and I dare not be all dressed, but had to +pretend to be in bed, covered up, still with the awful headache, when +Aunt Jemima bounced in." Then she laughed joyously at the recollection +of her escape. "The moment she had gone off to her supper, tucking me up +for the night, I jumped up and got on my dress and hat and her dust +cloak and then I had to watch my moment, creep down those funny little +stairs, and out of the side door—and so across here. You know it was +far harder to manage than the last feast Moravia Cloudwater and I gave +to the girls the night before she went to Paris! Isn't it fun! I do like +having these adventures, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Michael, and looked down into her face.</p> + +<p>She was extremely pretty, he thought, in the soft dusk of this Northern +evening. Her leghorn hat with its wreath of blue forget-me-nots was most +becoming and her brown hair was ruffled a little by the hat's hasty +donning.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i2.jpg"><img src="images/i2-th.jpg" width="400" height="624" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">"He bounded forward to meet her"</span> +</div> + +<p><span><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a></span></p> + +<p>"I needn't keep this old cloak on, need I?" she asked. "Nobody can see +us here and it is so hot."</p> + +<p>He helped her off with it and carried it for her. She looked prettier +still now, the slender lines of her childish figure were so exquisite in +their promise of beautiful womanhood later on, and the Sunday frock of +white foulard was most sweet.</p> + +<p>Michael was very silent; it almost made her nervous, but she prattled +on.</p> + +<p>"This is my best frock," she laughed, "because even though it is only a +business arrangement, one couldn't get married in an old blouse, could +one?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not!" and he strode nearer to her. "I am in evening dress, +you see—just like a French bridegroom for those wedding parties in the +Bois! so we are both festive—but here we are at the postern door!"</p> + +<p>He opened it with his key and they stole across the short lawn and up +the balcony steps like two stealthy marauders. Then he turned and held +out his hand to her in the blaze of electric light.</p> + +<p>"Welcome! Oh! it is good of you to have come!"</p> + +<p>She shook hands frankly—it seemed the right thing to do, she felt, +since they were going to oblige one another and both gain their desires. +Then it struck her for the first time that he was a very handsome young +man—quite the Prince Charming of the girls' dreams.<span><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a></span> A thousand times +finer than Moravia's Italian prince with whom for her part she had been +horribly disappointed when she had seen his photograph. Only it was too +silly to consider this one in that light, since he wasn't really going +to be hers—only a means to an end. Oh! the pleasure to be free and rich +and to do exactly what she pleased! She had been planning all these days +what she would do. She would get back to the Inn not later than ten, and +creep quietly up to her room through that side door which was always +open into the yard. The weather was so beautiful it would be nothing, +even if the Inn people did see her entering—she might have been out for +a stroll in the twilight. Then at six in the morning she would creep out +again and go to the station; there was a train which left for Edinburgh +at half-past—and there she would get a fast express to London later on, +after a good breakfast; and once in London a cab would take her to Mr. +Parsons', and after that!—money and freedom!</p> + +<p>She had planned it all. She would leave a letter for her Uncle and Aunt, +saying she was married and had gone and they need not trouble themselves +any more about her. Mr. Parsons would tell her where to stay and help +her to get a good maid like Moravia had, and then she would go to Paris +just as Moravia had done and buy all sorts of lovely clothes; it would +take her perhaps a whole month, and then when she was a very grand, +grown-up lady, she would write to her dear <span><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a></span>friend and say now she was +ready to accept her invitation to go and stay with her! And what +absolute joy to give Moravia such a surprise! to say she was married and +free! and had quite as nice things as even that Princess! It was all a +simply glorious picture—and but for this kind young man it could never +have been hers—but her fate would have been—Samuel Greenbank or Aunt +Jemima for four years! It was no wonder she felt grateful to him! and +that her handshake was full of cordiality.</p> + +<p>Michael pulled himself together rather sharply, the blood was now +running very fast in his veins.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," he said to her, "while I go into the chapel to see if Mr. +Fergusson and the two witnesses are ready."</p> + +<p>They were—Johnson and Alexander Armstrong—and the old chaplain who had +been Michael's father's tutor and was now an almost doddering old +nonentity also stood waiting in his white surplice at the altar rails.</p> + +<p>The candles were all lit and great bunches of white lilies gave forth a +heavy scent. A strange sense of intoxication rose to Michael's brain. +When he returned to his sitting-room he found his bride-to-be arranging +her hat at the old mirror which had reflected her before.</p> + +<p>"Won't you take it off?" he suggested—"and see, I have got you some +flowers——" and he brought her a <span><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a></span>great bunch of stephanotis which lay +waiting upon a table near.</p> + +<p>"There is no orange-blossom—because that is for real weddings—but +won't you just put this bit of stephanotis in your hair?" and he broke +off a few blooms.</p> + +<p>She was delighted, she loved dressing up, and she fixed it most +becomingly with dexterous fingers above her left ear.</p> + +<p>"You do look sweet," he told her. "Now we must come——" and he gave her +his arm. She took it with that grave look of a child acting in a very +serious grown-up play. She was perfectly delicious with her blooming +youth and freshness and dimples—her violet eyes shining like stars, and +her red full lips pouting like appetizing ripe cherries. Michael +trembled a little as he felt her small hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>They walked to the altar rails and the ceremony began.</p> + +<p>But, with the first words of the old clergyman's voice, a new and +unknown excitement came over Sabine. The night and the gorgeous chapel +and the candles and the flowers all affected her deeply, just as the +grand feast days used to do at the convent. A sudden realization of the +mystery of things overcame her and frightened her, so that her voice was +hardly audible as she repeated the clergyman's words.</p> + +<p>What were these vows she was making before God?<span><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a></span> She dared not +think—the whole thing was a maze, a dream. It was too late to run +away—but it was terrible—she wanted to scream.</p> + +<p>At last she felt her bridegroom place the ring upon her finger, now ice +cold.</p> + +<p>And then she was conscious that she was listening to these words:</p> + +<p>"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."</p> + +<p>After that she must have reeled a little, for she felt a strong arm +encircle her waist for a moment.</p> + +<p>Then she knew she was kneeling and that words of no meaning whatever +were being buzzed over her head.</p> + +<p>And lastly she was vividly awakened to burning consciousness by the +first man's kiss which had ever touched her innocent lips.</p> + +<p>So she was married—and this was her husband, this splendid, beautiful +young man there beside her in his evening clothes—and it was over—and +she was going away and would never see him again—and what had she +done?—and would God be very angry?—since it was all really in a +church!</p> + +<p>Her hand trembled as she wrote her name, Sabine Delburg, for the last +time, and she was shivering all over as she walked back with her +newly-made husband to his sitting-room through the gloomy corridor. +There it was all brilliant light again, the light of soft silk-shaded +lamps—and the center table was cleared <span><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a></span>and supper for two and opened +champagne awaited them. They were both very pale, and Sabine sat down in +a chair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fergusson will bring a copy of the certificate in a minute," +Michael said to her, "and then we can have some supper—but now, come, +we must drink each other's healths."</p> + +<p>He poured out the wine into two glasses and handed her one. She had +never tasted champagne before—but sipped it as she was bid. It did not +seem to her a very nice drink—not to be compared to <i>sirop aux +fraises</i>—but she knew at weddings people always had champagne.</p> + +<p>Michael gulped down a bumper, and it steadied his nerves and the fresh, +vigorously healthy color came back to his face. The whole situation had +excited his every sense.</p> + +<p>"Let me wish you all joy—Mrs.—Arranstoun!" he said.</p> + +<p>The little bride laughed her rippling laugh. This brought her back to +earth and the material, jolly side of things, it was so funny to hear +herself thus called.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that does sound odd!" she cried. "I shall never call myself +that—why, people might know I must be something connected with this +castle, and they would be questioning, and I couldn't have a scrap of +fun! You have got another name—you said it just now, 'Michael Howard +Arranstoun'—that will do. I shall <span><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a></span>be Mrs. Howard! It is quite +ordinary—and shall I be a widow? I've never thought of all this yet. +Oh! it will be fun."</p> + +<p>Every second of the time her charm was further affecting Michael—he was +not conscious of any definite intention—only to talk to her—to detain +her as long as possible. She was like a breath of exquisite spring air +after Violet Hatfield.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fergusson here came in from the chapel with the certificate—and his +presence seemed a great bore, and after thanking him for his services, +Michael poured him out some wine to drink their healths, and then the +butler announced that the brougham was waiting at the door to take the +old gentleman home.</p> + +<p>Sabine had stood up on his entrance and came forward to wish him +good-bye; now that the certificate was there she intended to go herself +by the balcony steps as soon as he should be safely off by the door.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my dear young lady, I have known your husband since he was +born, and with all his faults he is a splendid fellow; let me wish you +every happiness and prosperity together and may you be blessed with many +children and peace."</p> + +<p>Sabine stiffened—she felt she ought to enlighten the benevolent old +man, who evidently did not understand at all that she was going to trip +off—not as he, just to her own home, but out of Mr. Arranstoun's life +forever—but no suitable words would come, and Michael, <span><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a></span>afraid of what +she might say, hurried his chaplain off without more ado and then +returned to her and shut the door.</p> + +<p>Now they were absolutely alone and the clock struck ten in the courtyard +with measured strokes.</p> + +<p>"Let us begin supper," he said, with what calmness he could.</p> + +<p>"But I ought to go back at once," his bride protested; "the Inn may be +shut and then what in the world should I do?"</p> + +<p>"There is plenty of time, it certainly won't close its doors until +eleven—have some soup—or a cold quail and some salad—and see, I have +not forgotten the wedding-cake—you must cut that!"</p> + +<p>Sabine was very hungry; she had had to pretend her head was aching too +much to go with her elders to the ruins of Elbank and had retired to her +room before they left, and had had no tea, and such dainties were not to +be resisted, especially the cake! After all, it could not be any harm +staying just this little while longer since no one would ever know, and +people who got married always did cut their own cakes. So she sat down +and began, he taking every care of her. They had the merriest supper, +and even the champagne, more of which he gave her, did not taste so +nasty after the first sip.</p> + +<p>She had quail and salad and a wonderful ice—better than any, even on +the day of the holiday for Moravia's <span><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a></span>wedding far away in Rome; and +there were marrons glacés, too, and other divine bon-bons—and +strawberries and cream!</p> + +<p>She had never enjoyed herself so much in her whole life. Her perfectly +innocent prattle enchanted Michael more and more with its touches of +shrewd common sense. He drank a good deal of champagne, too—and +finally, when it came to cutting the cake time, a wild thought began to +enter his head.</p> + +<p>The icing was rather hard, and he had to help her—and stood beside her, +very near.</p> + +<p>She looked up smilingly and saw something in his face. It caused her a +sudden wild emotion of she knew not what—and then she felt very nervous +and full of fear.</p> + +<p>She moved abruptly away from him to the other side of the table, leaving +the cake—and stood looking at him with great, troubled, violet eyes.</p> + +<p>He followed her.</p> + +<p>"You little, sweet darling!" he whispered, his voice very deep. "Why +should you ever go away from me—I want to teach you to love me, Sabine. +You belong to me, you know—you are mine. I shall not let you leave me! +I shall keep you and hold you close!"</p> + +<p>And he clasped her in his arms.</p> + +<p>For he was a man, you see—and the moment had come!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h2> + +<h3>FIVE YEARS AFTERWARDS</h3> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span> +<span class="smcap">r. Elias Cloudwater</span> came up the steps of the Savoy Hotel at Carlsbad, +and called to the Arab who was waiting about:<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>"Has the Princess come in from her drive yet?"</p> + +<p>He was informed that she had not, and he sat down in the verandah to +wait. He was both an American gentleman and an American father, +therefore he was accustomed to waiting for his women folk and did not +fidget. He read the <i>New York Herald</i>, and when he had devoured the +share list, he glanced at the society news and read that, among others +who were expected at the Bohemian health resort that day, was Lord +Fordyce, motoring, for a stay of three weeks for the cure.</p> + +<p>He did not know this gentleman personally, and the fact would not have +arrested his attention at all only that he chanced to be interested in +English politics. He wondered vaguely if he would be an agreeable +acquisition to the place, and then turned to more thrilling things. +Presently a slender young woman came down the path through the woods and +leisurely entered the <span><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a></span>gate. Mr. Cloudwater watched her, and a kindly +smile lit his face. He thought how pretty she was, and how glad he was +that she had joined Moravia and himself again this summer. The months +when she went off by herself to her house in Brittany always seemed very +long. He saw her coming from far enough to be able to take in every +detail about her. Extreme slenderness and extreme grace were her +distinctive marks. The face was childish and rounded in outline, but +when you looked into the violet eyes there was some shadow of a story +hidden there. She was about twenty-two years old, and was certainly not +at Carlsbad for any reasons of cure, for her glowing complexion told a +tale of radiant health.</p> + +<p>Her white clothes were absolutely perfect in their simplicity, and so +was her air of unconcern and indifference. "The enigma" her friends +often called her. She seemed so frank and simple, and no one ever got +beyond the wall of what she was really thinking—what did she do with +her life? It seemed ridiculous that any one so rich and attractive and +young should care to pass long periods of time at a wild spot near +Finisterre, in an old château perched upon the rocks, completely alone +but for an elderly female companion.</p> + +<p>There was, of course, some hidden tragedy about her husband—who was a +raging lunatic or an inebriate shut up somewhere—perhaps there! They +had had to part at once—he had gone mad on the wedding journey, <span><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a></span>some +believed, but others said this was not at all the case, and that she had +married an Indian chief and then parted from him immediately in +America—finding out the horror of being wedded to a savage. No one knew +anything for a fact, only that when she did come into the civilized +world, it was always with the Princess Torniloni and her father, who, if +they knew the truth of Mrs. Howard's story, never gave it away. Men +swarmed around her, but she appeared completely unconcerned and friendly +with them all, and not even the most envious of the other Americans who +were trying to climb into Princess Torniloni's exclusive society had +ever been able to make up any scandals about her.</p> + +<p>"I have had such an enchanting walk, Clowdy, dear," the slim young woman +said as she sat down in a basket-chair near Mr. Cloudwater. "I am so +glad we came here, aren't you?—and I am sure it will do Moravia no end +of good. She passed me as I was coming from the Aberg on her way to Hans +Heiling, so she will not be in yet. Let us have tea."</p> + +<p>The Arab called the waiter, who brought it to them. One or two other +little groups were having some, too, but Mr. Cloudwater's party were +singularly ungregarious, and avoided making acquaintances in hotels. He +and Mrs. Howard chatted alone together over theirs for about half an +hour. Presently there was the noise of a motor arriving. It whirled into +the gate and stopped where they usually do, a little at one side. It +<span><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a></span>was very dusty and travel-stained, and beside the chauffeur there got +out a tall, fair Englishman. The personnel of the hotel came forward to +meet him with empressement, and as he passed where Mr. Cloudwater and +Mrs. Howard were sitting, they heard him say:</p> + +<p>"My servant brought the luggage by train this morning, so I suppose the +rooms are ready."</p> + +<p>"They are a wonderful race," Mr. Cloudwater remarked, "aren't they, +Sabine. I never can understand why you should so persistently avoid +them—they really have much more in common with ourselves than Latins."</p> + +<p>"That is why perhaps—one likes contrasts—and French and Russians, or +Germans, are far more intelligent. Every one to his taste!" and Mrs. +Howard smiled.</p> + +<p>The Englishman came out again in a few minutes, and sitting down lazily, +as though he were alone upon the balcony terrace, he ordered some tea. +Not the remotest scrap of interest in his surroundings or companions lit +up his face. He might have been forty or forty-two, perhaps, but being +so fair he looked a good deal younger, and had a peculiar distinction of +his own.</p> + +<p>"That is what I object to about them," Mrs. Howard remarked presently, +"their abominable arrogance. Look at that man. It is just as though +there was no one else on this balcony but himself—no one else exists +for him!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Sabine, you are severe! He looks to me to <span><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a></span>be a pretty +considerably nice man—and he is only reading the paper as I have been +doing myself," Mr. Cloudwater rejoined. "Perhaps he is the English +nobleman who I read was expected to-day—Lord Fordyce, the paper +said—and wasn't that the name of rather a prominent English politician +who had to go into the Upper House last year when his father died—and +it was considered he would be a loss to the Commons?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know. I don't take the slightest interest in them or +their politics. Ah! here is Moravia——" and both rose to meet a very +charming lady who drove up in a victoria and got out.</p> + +<p>She had all the perfection of detail which characterizes the very +best-dressed American woman—and she had every attraction except, +perhaps, a voice—but even that she knew how to modulate and disguise, +so that it was no wonder that the Princess Torniloni passed for one of +the most beautiful women in Rome or Paris, or Cairo or New York, +whenever she graced any of the cities with her presence. She was a +widow, too, and very rich. The Prince, her husband, had been dead for +nearly two years, and she was wearing grays and whites and mauves.</p> + +<p>He had been a brute, too, but unlike her friend, Mrs. Howard's husband, +he had had the good taste to be killed riding in a steeplechase, and so +all went well, and the pretty Princess was free to wander the world over +with her indulgent father.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a></span>"It is just too lovely for words up in those woods, papa," she said, +"and I have had my tea in a dear little châlet restaurant. You did not +wait for me, I hope?"</p> + +<p>They assured her they had not done so, and she sat down in a comfortable +chair. Her arrival caused a flutter among the other occupants of the +terrace, and even the Englishman glanced up. This group had at last made +some impression it would seem upon the retina of his eye, for he looked +deliberately at them and realized that the two women were quite worthy +of his scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"But I hate Americans," he said to himself. "They are such actresses, +you never know where you are with them—these two, though, appear some +of the best."</p> + +<p>Presently they went into the hotel, passing him very closely—and for a +second his eyes met the violet ones of Sabine Howard, and he was +conscious that he felt distinctly interested, much to his disgust.</p> + +<p>But, after all, he was here for a cure and a rest, and he had always +believed in women as recreations.</p> + +<p>His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant, and later he wrote +to his friend, Michael Arranstoun, loitering at Ostende:</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +The hotel is quite decent—and after your long sojourn in the +wilds, you will have an overdose of polo and expensive ladies and +baccarat. You had much better join me here at the end of the week. +There are two pretty women who would be quite your affair. They +have the next table, and neither of them can be taking the cure. +</div> + +<p class="padtop"><span><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a></span>But Mr. Arranstoun, when he received this missive, had other things to +do. He had been out of England, and indeed Europe, for nearly five +years—having, in the summer of 1907, joined a friend to explore the +innermost borders of China and Tibet, and there the passion for this +kind of thing had overtaken him, and his own home knew him no more.</p> + +<p>Now, however, he had announced that he had returned for good, and +intended to spend the rest of his days at Arranstoun as a model +landlord.</p> + +<p>He started this by playing polo at Ostende, where he had run across +Henry Fordyce. They had cordially grasped each other's hands, their +estrangement forgotten when face to face; and the only mention there had +been of the circumstances which had caused their parting were in a few +sentences.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Henry, it is five whole years since you thundered morals at me +and shook the dust of Arranstoun from your feet!"</p> + +<p>"You did behave abominably, Michael—but I am awfully glad to see +you—and the scene at Ebbsworth, when Violet Hatfield read the notice in +the Scotsman of your marriage, made me feel you had been almost +justified in taking any course you could to make yourself safe. But how +about your wife? Have you ever seen her again?"</p> + +<p>"No. My lawyer tells me I can divorce her now for desertion. I should +have to make some pretence of asking her to return to me, he says, which +of course she would refuse to do—and then both can be free, but, for my +part, I am not hankering after freedom much—I do very well as I am—and +I always cherish a rather tender recollection of her."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 556px;"> +<a href="images/i3.jpg"><img src="images/i3-th.jpg" width="556" height="400" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">"His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant"</span> +</div> + +<p><span><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a></span></p> +<p>Henry laughed.</p> + +<p>"I have often pictured that wedding," he said, "and the little bride +going off with her certificate and your name all alone. No family turned +up awkwardly at the last moment to mar things; she left safely after the +ceremony, eh?"</p> + +<p>Michael looked away suddenly, and then answered with overdone unconcern:</p> + +<p>"Yes—soon after the ceremony."</p> + +<p>"I do wonder you had no curiosity to investigate her character further!"</p> + +<p>"I had—but she did not appreciate my interest—and—after she had +gone—I was rather in a bad temper, and I reasoned myself into believing +she was probably right—also just then I wanted to join Latimer +Berkeley's expedition to China. I remember, his letter about it came by +the next morning's post—so I went—but do you know, Henry, I believe +that little girl made some lasting impression upon me. I believe, if she +had stayed, I should have been frantically in love with her—but she +went, so there it is!"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you try to find her?" Henry asked.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I mean to some day. I have thought of <span><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a></span>doing so often, but +first China, and then one thing and another have stopped me—besides, +she may have fancied some other fellow by this time—the whole thing was +one of those colossal mistakes. If we could only have met +ordinarily—and not married in a hurry and then parted—like that."</p> + +<p>"Has it never struck you she was rather young to be left to drift by +herself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, often—" Then Michael grew a little constrained. "I believe I +behaved like the most impossible brute, Henry—in marrying her at all as +you said—but I would like to make it up to her some day—and I suppose +if, by chance, she has taken a fancy to someone else by this time and +wants to be free of me, I ought to divorce her—but, by Heaven, I +believe I should hate that!"</p> + +<p>"You dog in the manger!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am——"</p> + +<p>And so the subject had ended.</p> + +<p>And now Henry, third Lord Fordyce, was taking a mild cure at Carlsbad, +and had decided that in his leisure moments he would begin to write a +book—a project which had long simmered in his brain; but after two days +of sitting by the American party at each meal, a very strong desire to +converse with them—especially the one with the strange violet +eyes—overcame him; and with deliberate intention he scraped +acquaintance with Mr. Cloudwater in the exercise room of the<span><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a></span> Kaiserbad, +who, with polite ceremony, presented him that evening to his daughter +and her friend.</p> + +<p>Sabine had been particularly silent and irritating, Moravia thought, and +as they went up to bed she scolded her about it.</p> + +<p>"He is a perfect darling, Sabine," she declared, "and will do splendidly +to take walks with us and make the fourth. He is so lazy and English and +phlegmatic—I'd like to make him crazy with love—but he looked at you, +you little witch, not at me at all."</p> + +<p>"You are welcome to him, Morri—I don't care for Englishmen. Good-night, +pet," and Mrs. Howard kissed her friend, and going in to her room, she +shut the door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span> +<span class="smcap">ore</span> than a week went by, and it seemed quite natural now to Lord +Fordyce to shape his days according to the plans of the American party, +and when they met at the Schlossbrunn in the morning at half-past seven, +and he and Mr. Cloudwater and the Princess had drunk their tumblers of +water together, their custom was to go on down to the town and there +find Sabine, who had bought their slices of ham and their rolls, and +awaited them at the end of the Alte Weise with the pink paper bags, and +then the four proceeded to walk to the Kaiser Park to breakfast.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>This meal was so merry, Mrs. Howard tantalizing the others by having +cream in her coffee and sugar upon her wild strawberries, while they +were only permitted to take theirs plain.</p> + +<p>During the stroll there it was Sabine's custom persistently to adhere to +the side of Mr. Cloudwater, leaving the other two tête-à-tête—and, +delightful as Lord Fordyce found the Princess, this irritated him. He +discovered himself, as the days advanced, to be experi<span><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a></span>encing a distinct +longing to know what was passing in that little head, whose violet eyes +looked out with so much mystery and shadow in their depths. He could not +tell himself that she avoided him; she was always friendly and casual +and perfectly at her ease, but no extra look of pleasure or welcome for +him personally ever came into her face, and never once had he been able +to speak to her really alone. Mr. Cloudwater and the two ladies drove +back from breakfast each day, and he was left to take his exercises and +his bath. Now and then he had encountered the Princess in the near woods +just before luncheon, returning from the Kaiserbad, but Mrs. Howard +never—and when he inquired how she spent her time, she replied however +she happened to fancy, which gave him no clue as to where he might find +her—and with all her frank charm, she was not a person to whom it was +easy to put a direct question. Lord Fordyce began to grow too interested +for his peace of mind. When he realized this, he got very angry with +himself. He had never permitted a woman to be anything but a mild +recreation in his life, and at forty it was a little late to begin to +experience something serious about one.</p> + +<p>They often motored in the afternoon to various resorts not too far +distant, and there took tea; and for two whole days it had been wet and, +except at meals, the ladies had lain <i>perdues</i>.</p> + +<p>However fate was kind on a Saturday morning, and <span><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a></span>allowed Lord Fordyce +to chance upon Mrs. Howard, right up at the Belvedere in the far woods, +looking over the valley. She was quite alone, and her slender figure was +outlined against the bright sunlight as she leaned on the balustrade +gazing down at the exquisite scene.</p> + +<p>Henry could have cried aloud in joy, "At last!" but he restrained +himself, and instead only said a casual "Hullo!" Mrs. Howard turned and +looked at him, and answered his greeting with frank cordiality.</p> + +<p>"Have you never been here before? I think it is one of the most lovely +spots in the whole woods, and at this time there is never any one—what +made you penetrate so far?"</p> + +<p>"Good fortune! The jade has been unkind until now."</p> + +<p>They leant on the balustrade together.</p> + +<p>"I always like being up on a high mountain and looking down at things, +don't you?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No, not always—one feels lonely—but it is nice if one is with a +suitable companion. How have you, at your age, managed to become +self-sufficing?"</p> + +<p>"Circumstance, I expect, has taught me the beauty of solitude. I spend +months alone in Brittany."</p> + +<p>"And what do you do—read most of the time?"</p> + +<p>He was so enchanted that she was not turning the conversation into banal +things, he determined not to say <span><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a></span>anything which would cause her again +to draw down the blind of bland politeness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I read a great deal. You see, Moravia and I were at a convent +together, and there, beyond teaching us to spell and to write and do a +few sums and learn a garbled version of French history, a little music, +and a great deal of embroidery, they left us totally ignorant—one must +try to supply the deficiencies oneself. It is appalling to remain +ignorant once one realizes that one is."</p> + +<p>"Knowledge on any subject is interesting—did you begin generally—or +did you specialize?"</p> + +<p>"I always wanted to be just—and to understand things. The whole of life +and existence seemed too difficult—I think I began trying to find some +key to that and this opened the door to general information, and so +eventually, perhaps, one specializes."</p> + +<p>He was wise enough not to press the question into what her specializing +ran. He adored subtleties, and he noted with delight that she was not so +completely indifferent as usual. If he could keep her attention for a +little while, they might have a really interesting investigation of each +other's thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I like thinking of things, too—and trying to discover their meanings +and what caused them. We are all, of course, the victims of heredity."</p> + +<p>"That may be," she agreed, "but the will can control any heredity. It +can only manifest itself when we let <span><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a></span>ourselves drift. The tragedy of it +is that we have drifted too far sometimes before we learn that we could +have directed the course if we had willed. Ignorance is seemingly the +most cruel foe we have to encounter, because we are so defenseless, not +knowing he is there."</p> + +<p>She sighed unconsciously and looked out over the beautiful tree-tops, +down to where the Kaiser Park appeared like a little doll's châlet set +among streams and pastures green.</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce was much moved. She was prettier and sweeter than he had +even fancied she would be could he ever contrive to find her all alone. +He watched her covertly; the exquisite peachy skin with its pure color, +and her soft brown hair dressed with a simplicity which he thought +perfection, all appealed to him, and those strange violet eyes rather +round and heavily lashed with brown-shaded lashes, darker at the tips. +The type was not intense or of a studious mould. Circumstance must +indeed have formed an exotic character to have grafted such deep meaning +in their innocent depths. She went on presently, not remarking his +silence.</p> + +<p>"It is heredity which makes my country women so nervous and unstable as +a rule. You don't like them, as I know," and she smiled, "and I think, +from your point of view, you are right. You see, we are nearly all +mushroom growths, sprung up in a night—and we have not had time for +poise, or the acceptance with <span><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a></span>calmness of our good fortune. We are as +yet unbalanced by it, and don't know what we want."</p> + +<p>"You are very charming," and he looked truthful, and at that moment felt +so.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know—we can be more charming than any other women because we +have learnt from all the other nations and play which ever part we wish +to select."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted, rather too quickly—and her rippling laugh rang out. +He had hardly ever heard her laugh, and it enchanted him, even though he +was nettled at her understanding of his thought.</p> + +<p>"It remains for men to make us desire to play the same part always—if +they find it agreeable."</p> + +<p>Again he said "Yes"—but this time slowly.</p> + +<p>"Now you Englishmen have the heredity of absolute phlegm to fight. While +we ought to be trying to counteract jumping from one rôle to another, +you ought to try to teach yourselves that versatility is a good thing, +too, in its way."</p> + +<p>"I am sure it is. I wish you would teach me to understand it—but you +yourself seem to be restful and stable. How have you achieved this?"</p> + +<p>"By studying the meaning of things, I suppose, and checking myself every +time I began to want to do the restless things I saw my countrywomen +doing. We have wonderful wills, you know, and if we want a thing +sufficiently, we can get anything. That is why Moravia says we make such +successful great ladies in the dif<span><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></span>ferent countries we marry into. Your +great ladies, if they are nice, are great naturally, and if they are +not, they often fail, even if they are born aristocrats. We do not often +fail, because we know very well we are taking on a part, and must play +it to the very best of our ability all the time—and gradually we play +it better than if it were natural."</p> + +<p>"What a little cynic! 'Out of the mouths of babes'!" and he laughed.</p> + +<p>"I am not at all a cynic! It is the truth I am telling you. I admire and +respect our methods far more than yours, which just 'growed' like +Topsy!"</p> + +<p>"But cynicism and truth are, unfortunately, synonymous. Only you are too +young, and ought not to know anything about either!"</p> + +<p>"I like to know and do things I ought not to!" Her eyes were merry.</p> + +<p>"Tell me some more about your countrywomen. I'm awfully interested, and +have always been too frightened of their brilliancy to investigate +myself."</p> + +<p>"We are not nearly so bothered with hearts as Europeans—heredity again. +Our mothers and fathers generally sprang from people working too hard to +have great emotions—then we arrive, and have every luxury poured upon +us from birth; and if we have hardy characters we weather the deluge and +remain very decent citizens."</p> + +<p>"And if you have not?"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a></span>"Why, naturally the instincts for hard work, which made our parents +succeed, if they remain idle must make some explosion. So we grow +restless in our palaces, and get fads and nerves and quaint +diseases—and have to come to Carlsbad—and talk to sober Englishmen!" +The look of mischief which she vouchsafed him was perfectly adorable. He +was duly affected.</p> + +<p>"You take us as a sort of cure!"</p> + +<p>"Yes——!"</p> + +<p>"How do you know so much about us and our faults? I gathered, from what +you said last night at dinner, that you have never been in England but +once, for a month, when you were almost a child."</p> + +<p>"The rarest specimens come abroad," and a dimple showed in her left +cheek, "and I read about you in your best novels—even your authors +unconsciously give you away and show your selfishness and arrogance and +self-satisfaction."</p> + +<p>"Shocking brutes, aren't we?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>Then they both laughed, and Sabine suggested it was time they returned +to luncheon.</p> + +<p>"It is quite two miles from here, and Mr. Cloudwater, although the +kindest dear old gentleman, begins to get hungry at one o'clock."</p> + +<p>So they turned and sauntered downwards through the lovely green woods, +with the warm hum of insects and the soft summer, glancing sunshine. And +all of <span><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a></span>you who know the beauties of Carlsbad, or indeed any other of +those Bohemian spas, can just picture how agreeable was their walk, and +how conducive to amiable discussion and the acceleration of friendship. +Henry tried to get her to tell him some more of the secrets of her +countrywomen, but she would not be serious. She was in a merry mood, and +turned the fire into the enemy's camp, making him disclose the ways of +Englishmen.</p> + +<p>"I believe you like us as a rule because we are such casual creatures!" +he said at last, "rather indifferent about <i>petits soins</i>, and apt to +seize what we desire, or take it for granted."</p> + +<p>A sudden shadow came into her face which puzzled him, and she did not +answer, but went on to talk of Brittany and the place which she had +bought. Héronac—just a weird castle perched right upon a rock above a +fishing village, with the sea dashing at its base and the spray rising +right to her sitting-room windows.</p> + +<p>"I have to go across a causeway to my garden upon the main land—and +when it is very rough, I get soaking wet—it is the wildest place you +ever saw."</p> + +<p>"What on earth made you select it?" Lord Fordyce asked. "You, who look +like a fresh rose, to choose a grim brigand's stronghold as a +residence!"</p> + +<p>"It suited my mood on the day I first saw it—and I bought it the +following week. I make up my mind in a minute as to what I want."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a></span>"You must let me motor past and look at it," he pleaded, "and when my +twenty-one days of drinking this uninteresting water is up, I intend +going back in my car to Paris, and from there down to see Mont St. +Michel."</p> + +<p>"You shall not only look at it—you may even come in—if you are nice +and do not bore me between now and then," and she glanced up at him +slyly. "I have an old companion, Madame Imogen Aubert—who lives with me +there—and she always hopes I shall one day have visitors!"</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce promised he would be a pure sage, and if she would put him +on probation, and really take pains to sample his capabilities of not +boring in a few more walks, he would come up for judgment at Héronac +when it was her good pleasure to name a date.</p> + +<p>"I shall be there toward the middle of August. After we leave here, the +Princess and dear Cloudie go to Italy with her little son, the baby +Torniloni: he is such a darling, nearly three years old—he is at +Héronac now with his nurses."</p> + +<p>"And you go back to Brittany alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes——"</p> + +<p>"Then I shall come, too."</p> + +<p>"If, at the end of your cure, you have not bored me!"</p> + +<p>By this time they had got down to the Savoy gate—and there found +Moravia and Mr. Cloudwater waiting for them on the balcony—clamoring +for lunch.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a></span>Princess Torniloni gave a swift, keen glance at the two who had +entered, but she did not express the thought which came to her.</p> + +<p>"It is rather hard that Sabine, who does not want him and is not free to +have him, should have drawn him instead of me."</p> + +<p>That night in the restaurant there came in and joined their party one of +those American men who are always to be met with in Paris or Aix or +Carlsbad or Monte Carlo, at whatever in any of these places represents +the Ritz Hotel, one who knew everybody and everything, a person of no +particular sex, but who always would make a party go with his stories +and his gaiety, and help along any hostess. Cranley Beaton was this +one's name. The Cloudwater party were all quite glad to welcome him and +hear news of their friends. One or two decent people had arrived that +afternoon also, and Moravia felt she could be quite amused and wear her +pretty clothes. Sabine hated the avalanches of dinners and lunches and +what not this would mean. Her sense of humor was very highly developed, +and she often laughed in a fond way over her friend, who was, in her +search for pleasure, still as keen as she had been in convent days.</p> + +<p>"You do remain so young, Morri!" she told her, as they linked arms going +up to bed. Their rooms were on the first floor, and they disdained the +lift. "Do you remember, you used to be the mother to all of <span><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></span>us at St. +Anne's—and now I am the mother of us two!"</p> + +<p>"You are an old, wise-headed Sibyl—that is what you are, darling!" the +Princess returned. "I wish I could ever know what has so utterly changed +you from our convent days," and she sighed impatiently. "Then you were +the merriest madcap, ready to tease any one and to have any lark, and +for nearly these four years since we have been together again you have +been another person—grave and self-possessed. What are you always +thinking of, Sabine?"</p> + +<p>They had reached their sitting-room, and Mrs. Howard went to the window +and opened it wide.</p> + +<p>"I grew up in one year, Moravia—I grew a hundred years old, and all the +studies which I indulge in at Héronac teach me that peace and poise are +the things to aim at. I cannot tell you any more."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to probe into your secrets, darling," the Princess +exclaimed hastily. "I promised you I never would when you came to me +that November in Rome—we were both miserable enough, goodness knows! We +made the bargain that there should be no retrospects. And your angelic +goodness to me all that time when my little Girolamo was born, have made +me your eternal debtor. Why, but for you, darling, he might have been +snatched from me by the hateful Torniloni family!"</p> + +<p>"The sweet cherub!"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a></span>Then their conversation turned to this absorbing topic, the perfections +of Girolamo! and as it is hardly one which could interest you or me, my +friend, let us go back to the smoking-room and listen to a conversation +going on between Cranley Beaton and Lord Fordyce. The latter, with great +skill, had begun to elicit certain information he desired from this +society register!</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," Mr. Beaton was saying. "She is a peach—The husband"—and +he looked extremely wise. "Oh! she made some frightful mésalliance out +West, and they say he's shut in a madhouse or home for inebriates. Her +entrance among us dates from when she first appeared in Paris, about +three years ago, with Princess Torniloni. She is awfully rich and +awfully good, and it is a real pity she does not divorce the ruffian and +begin again!"</p> + +<p>"She is not free, then?" and Lord Fordyce felt his heart sink. "I +thought, probably, she had got rid of any encumbrance, as it is fairly +easy over with you."</p> + +<p>"Why, she could in a moment if she wanted to, I expect," Mr. Beaton +assured his listener. "She hasn't fancied anyone else yet; when she +does, she will, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"Her husband is an American, then?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course—didn't I tell you she came from the West? Why, I +remember crossing with her. She was in deep mourning—in the summer of +1908. She never spoke to anyone on board, and it was about <span><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a></span>eighteen +months after that I was presented to her in Paris. She gets prettier +every day."</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce felt this was true.</p> + +<p>"So she could be free if she fancied anyone, you think?" he hazarded +casually, as though his interest in the subject had waned—and when Mr. +Beaton had answered, "Yes—rather," Lord Fordyce got up and sauntered +off toward bed.</p> + +<p>"One has to be up so early in the morning, here," he remarked agreeably. +"See you to-morrow at the Schlossbrunn?—Good-night!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> +<span class="smcap">fter</span> this, for several days Mrs. Howard made it rather difficult for +Lord Fordyce to speak to her alone, although he saw her every day, and +at every meal, and each hour grew more enamored. She, for her part, was +certainly growing to like him. He soothed her; his intelligence was +highly trained, and he was courteous and gentle and sympathetic—but for +some reason which she could not explain, she had no wish to precipitate +matters. Her mind was quite without any definite desire or +determination, but, being a woman, she was perfectly aware that Henry +was falling in love with her. A number of other men had done so before, +and had then at once begun to be uninteresting in her eyes. It was as if +she were numb to the attraction of men—but this one had qualities which +appealed to her. Her own countrymen were never cultivated enough in +literature, and were too absorbed in stocks and shares to be able to +take flights of sentiment and imagination with her. Lord Fordyce +understood in a second—and they could discuss any subject with a +refined subtlety which enchanted her.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a></span>Henry had not spent his life maneuvring love affairs with women, and +was not very clever at manipulating circumstance. He fretted and fumed +at not getting his desired tête-à-tête, but with all the will was too +hedged in by conventionality and a sense of politeness to force matters, +as his friend, Michael Arranstoun, would have done with high-handed +unconcern. Thus, his cure at Carlsbad was drawing to a close before he +again spent an afternoon quite alone with Sabine Howard. They had gone +to the Aberg to tea, and the Princess had expressed herself too tired to +walk back, and had got into the waiting carriage, making Cranley Beaton +accompany her. She was not in a perfectly amiable temper. Lord Fordyce +attracted her strongly, and it was plain to be seen he had only eyes for +Sabine—who cared for him not at all. The Princess found Cranley Beaton +absolutely tiresome—no better than the <i>New York Herald</i>, she thought +pettishly, or the <i>Continental Daily Mail</i>—to be with! The waters were +getting on her nerves, too; she would be glad to leave and go to +Sorrento with that Cupid among infants, Girolamo. Sabine had better +divorce her horror of a husband, and marry the man and have done with +it!</p> + +<p>Now the walk from the Aberg down through the woods is a peculiarly +delightful one and, even in the season at Carlsbad, not over-crowded by +people. Henry Fordyce felt duly elated at the prospect, and<span><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a></span> Mrs. Howard +had an air of pensive mischief in her violet eyes. Lord Fordyce, who had +been accustomed for years to making speeches for his party, and was +known as a ready orator, found himself rather silent, and even a little +nervous, for the first hundred yards or so. She looked so bewitching, he +thought, in her fresh white linen, showing up the round peachiness of +her young cheeks, and those curling, childish, brown lashes making their +shadow. He was overcome with a desire to kiss her. She was so supremely +healthy and delectable. He felt he had been altogether a fool in his +estimate of the serious necessities of life hitherto. Woman was now one +of them—and this woman supremely so. Why, if she could be freed from +bonds, should she not become his wife? But he felt it might be wiser not +to be too precipitate about suggesting the thing to her. She had +certainly given him no indication that she would receive the idea +favorably, and appeared to be of the type of character which could not +be coerced. He felt very glad Michael Arranstoun had not responded to +his pressing request to join him. It would be far better that that +irritatingly attractive specimen of manhood should not step upon the +scene, until he himself had some definite hope of affairs being +satisfactorily settled.</p> + +<p>They began their talk upon the lightest subjects, and gradually drifted +into one of the discussions of emotions in the abstract which are so +fascinating—and <span><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a></span>so dangerous—and which require skill to direct and +continue.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard held that pleasure could alone come from harmony of body and +spirit, while Lord Fordyce maintained that wild discords could also +produce it, and that it could not be defined as governed by any law.</p> + +<p>"One is sometimes full of pleasure even against one's will," he said. +"Every spiritual principle and conviction may be outraged, and yet for +some unaccountable reason pleasure remains."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard opened her eyes wide as if at a sudden thought.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "I wish it were not true what you say, but it is—and +it is a great injustice."</p> + +<p>"What makes you say that?" Henry asked, quickly. "You were thinking of +some particular thing. Do tell me."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking how some people can sin and err in every way, and yet +there is something about them which causes them to be forgiven, and +which even causes pleasure while they are sinning; and there are others +who might do the same things and would be anathematised at once—and no +joy felt with them at any time. Moravia and I call it having 'it'—some +people have it, and some people have not got it, and that is the end of +the matter!"</p> + +<p>"It is a strange thing, but I know what you mean.<span><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a></span> I know one particular +case of it in a friend of mine. No matter what he does, one always +forgives him. It does not depend upon looks, either—although this +actual person is abominably good-looking—it does not depend upon +intelligence or character or—anything—as you say, it is just 'it.' Now +you have it, and the Princess, perfectly charming though she is, has +not."</p> + +<p>Sabine did not contradict him; she never was conventional, denying +truths for the sake of diffidence or politeness. Moravia was beautiful +and charming, but it was true she had not 'it.'</p> + +<p>"I think it applies more to men than to women," was all she said.</p> + +<p>"You were thinking of a man, then, when you spoke?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I was thinking of a man—but it is not an interesting subject."</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce decided that it was, but he did not continue it.</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me all about Héronac," he requested, "and what +charmed you in it enough to make you buy it suddenly like that. How did +you come upon it?"</p> + +<p>"I had just arrived from America, at the end of July of 1908—four years +ago—and I found, when I got to Cherbourg, that I could not join my +friend, the Princess, as I had intended, because her husband had taken +<span><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a></span>her off to his country place near Naples. So I hired a motor and +wandered down into Brittany alone. I wanted to be alone. I was motoring +along, when a violent storm came on, furious rain and wind, and just at +the worst and weirdest moment, I passed Héronac, which is a few hundred +yards from the edge of the present village. It stands out in the sea on +a great spur of rock, entirely separated from the main land by a deep +chasm about thirty feet wide, over which there was then a broken bridge +which had once been a drawbridge. It was a huge, grim ruin with only a +few roofed rooms, built in about the thirteenth century originally, and +of course added to and modernized. The house actually standing within +the great towers is of the date of Louis XIV. It stood there, a dark +mass, defying the storm, although the huge waves splashed right up to +the windows."</p> + +<p>"It sounds repellent."</p> + +<p>"It was—fierce and grim and repellent, and it suited my mood—so I +stopped at the Inn, my old maid Simone and I, and I got permission to go +and see it. The landlord of the Inn had the keys. The last of the +Héronacs drank himself to death with absinthe in Paris, so the place was +closed, and was no doubt for sale. '<i>Mais oui!</i>' he told us. Simone was +terrified to cross the wretched bridge, with the water swirling beneath, +and we left her to go back to the Inn, while the landlord's son came +with me. It was about four <span><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a></span>o'clock in the afternoon, and was a most +extraordinary day, for now it began to thunder and lighten."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you were not afraid."</p> + +<p>"I am never afraid—I tell you, it suited me. There was still some +furniture in the roofed part of the inner court, and in the two great +towers which flank the main building—but in that the roof was off, but +the view from the windows when we crept along to them across the broken +floor was too superb, straight out to the ocean, the waves thundering at +the base. I made up my mind that night I would buy it if I could—and, +as I told you before, I did so in the following week."</p> + +<p>"How quaint of you!"</p> + +<p>"It has been the greatest delight to me, and, as you will see, I have +done something with it. I restored the center, and have made its +arrangements modern and comfortable, but have left that one huge room on +the first floor as it was, only with the roof mended. I spend hours and +hours in the deep window embrasures looking right over the sea. It has +taught me more of the meaning of things than all my books."</p> + +<p>"You speak as though you were an old woman," Lord Fordyce exclaimed, +"and you look only a mere child now—then, when you bought this +brigand's stronghold, you must have been in the nursery!"</p> + +<p>"I was over eighteen!"</p> + +<p>"A colossal age! it was simply ridiculous for you to be wanting dark +castles and solitude. What—?"<span><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a></span> and then he paused; he did not continue +his question.</p> + +<p>"I was really very old—I had been old for almost a year."</p> + +<p>"And do you mean to remain old always, or will you ever let anyone teach +you to be young?"</p> + +<p>Sabine looked away into the somber fir trees. They had got to a part of +the path where the woods on either side are black as night in their +depths.</p> + +<p>"I—don't—know," she said, very low.</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce moved nearer to her.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would let me try to take away all those somber thoughts I +see sometimes in those sweet eyes."</p> + +<p>"How would you begin?"</p> + +<p>"By loving you very much—and then by trying to make you love me."</p> + +<p>"Does love take away dark thoughts, then—or does it bring them?"</p> + +<p>"That depends upon the love," he told her, eagerly. "When it is great +enough to be unselfish, it must bring peace and happiness, surely——"</p> + +<p>"They are good things—they are harmony—but——"</p> + +<p>"Yes—what are the buts?" his voice trembled a little.</p> + +<p>"Love seems to me to be a wild thing, a raging, tearing passion—Can it +ever be just tender and kind?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would let me prove to you that it can."</p> + +<p>She looked into his face gravely, and there was nothing but honest +question in her violet eyes.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a></span>"To what end?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I would like you to marry me." He had said it now when he had not +intended to yet, and he was pale as death.</p> + +<p>She shrank from him a little.</p> + +<p>"But surely you know that I am not free!"</p> + +<p>"I hoped I—believed that you can make yourself so—if you knew how I +love you! I have never really loved any woman before in my life. I +always thought they should be only recreations—but the moment I saw +you, my whole opinions changed."</p> + +<p>She grew troubled.</p> + +<p>"I wish you had not said this to me," she faltered. "I—do not know that +I wish to change my life. I could, of course, be free, I suppose—if I +wanted to be—but—I am not sure. What would it mean if I listened to +you? Tell me! I am sometimes very lonely—and I like you so much."</p> + +<p>"I want to make you feel more than that, but I will be content with +whatever you will give me. I do not care one atom what dark page is in +your past, I know it can have been nothing of your own fault, and if it +were, I should not care—I only care for you—Sabine—will you not tell +me that you will try to let me make you happy. It would mean that, that +I should devote my whole life to making you happy."</p> + +<p>"A woman should be contented with that, surely," she said. And if Henry +Fordyce had had his usual <span><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a></span>critical wits about him unclouded by love, he +would have smiled his cynical smile and have said to himself:</p> + +<p>"The spark is not lit, my friend; her voice lacks enthusiasm and her +brows are calm," but he was like all lovers—blind—and only saw and +heard what could comfort his heart, and so caught at the straw with +delight.</p> + +<p>"Whatever you asked I would give you. Only say that you will let me set +about helping you to be free at once."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Howard, however, had not gone this far in her imaginings—the idea +had started in her brain, no doubt, but it had not matured yet, and all +was hesitancy.</p> + +<p>"I cannot promise anything. You must give me time to think, Lord +Fordyce."</p> + +<p>"Dearest, of course I will—but you will take steps to make yourself +free—will you not? I have not asked, and I will not ask you a single +question, only that you will tell me when I really may hope."</p> + +<p>His voice was deep with feeling, and his distinguished, clever face was +eager and full of devotion, as they turned an abrupt corner, and there +came face to face with two of their American acquaintances in the hotel.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this a charming walk, Mrs. Howard," and "Yes, isn't it!" and bows +and passings on; but it broke the current, destroyed the spell, and +released some spirit of mischief in Sabine's heart, for she would not +<span><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a></span>be grave for another second. She made Henry promise he would just amuse +her and not refer again to those serious topics unless she gave him +leave. And he, accustomed to go his own way unhampered by the caprices +of the gentle sex, agreed!—so under the dominion of love had he become! +for a woman, too, who in herself combined three things he had always +disliked. She was an American, she was very young, and she had an +equivocal position. But the little god does not consult the individual +before he shoots his darts, and punishes the most severely those who +have denied his power.</p> + +<p>By the time they had reached the Savoy, Sabine, with that aptitude, +though it was perfectly unconscious in her, which is the characteristic +of all her countrywomen, had reduced Lord Fordyce to complete +subjection, so that he was ready to do any mortal thing in the world for +her, and willing to grasp suggestions of hope upon any terms.</p> + +<p>She gave him a friendly smile, and disappeared up the stairs to their +sitting-room—there to find Moravia indulging in nerves.</p> + +<p>"I just want to scream, darling!" that lady said, and Sabine patted her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Then don't, Morri, dearest," she implored her. "You only want to +because your mother, if she had been idle, would have wanted to scrub +the floors—just as my father's business capacity came out in me just +<span><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a></span>now, and I fenced with and sampled a very noble gentleman instead of +being simple with him. Let us get above our instincts—and be the real +aristocrats we appear to the world!"</p> + +<p>But the Princess had to have some sal volatile.</p> + +<p>That night after dinner waywardness was upon Sabine. She would read the +<i>New York Herald</i>, which she had absolutely not glanced at since their +arrival at Carlsbad, so absorbed and entranced had she been in her walks +in the green woods, and so little interested was she ever in the doings +of the world.</p> + +<p>She glanced at the Trouville news, and the Homburg news with wandering +mind, and then her eye fell upon the polo at Ostende, and there she read +that the English team had been giving a delightful dance at the Casino, +where Mr. Michael Arranstoun had sumptuously entertained a party of his +friends—amongst them Miss Daisy Van der Horn. The paragraph was worded +with that masterly simplicity which distinguishes intelligent, modern +journalism; and left the reader's mind confused as to words, but clear +as to suggestion. Sabine Howard knew Miss Daisy Van der Horn. As she +read, the bright, soft color left her cheeks, and then returned with a +brilliant flush.</p> + +<p>It was the first time for five years she had ever read the name of +Arranstoun in any paper. She held the sheet firmly, and perused all the +other information of the day—but when she put it down, and joined in +the <span><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a></span>general conversation, it could have been remarked that her eyes +were glittering like fixed stars.</p> + +<p>And when, for a moment, they all went out on the balcony to breathe in +the warm, soft night, she whispered to Henry Fordyce:</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking—I will, at all events, begin to take steps to be +free."</p> + +<p>But to his rapturous, "My darling!" she replied, with lowered lids:</p> + +<p>"It will take some time—and you may not like waiting—And when I am +free—I do not know—only—I am tired, and I want someone to help me to +forget and begin again. Good-night."</p> + +<p>Then, after she got to her room, she opened the window wide, and looked +out upon the quiet firs. But nothing stilled the unrest in her heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">H</span> +<span class="smcap">éronac</span> was basking in the sun of an August morning, like some huge sea +monster which had clambered upon the wet rocks.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>The sea was intensely blue without a ripple upon it, and only the +smallest white line marked where its waters caressed the shore.</p> + +<p>Nature slumbered in the heat and was silent, and Sabine Howard, the +châtelaine of this quaint château, stood looking out of the deep windows +in her great sitting-room. It was a wonderful room. She had collected +dark panelling and tapestry to hide the grim stone walls, and had +managed to buy a splendidly carved and painted roof, while her sense of +color had run riot in beautiful silks for curtains. It was a remarkable +achievement for one so young, and who had begun so ignorantly. Her +mother's family had been decently enough bred, and her maternal +grandfather had been a fair artist, and that remarkable American +adaptability which she had inherited from her father had helped her in +many ways. Her sitting-room at Héronac was, of course, not perfect; and +to the trained <span><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a></span>eye of Henry Fordyce would present many anomalies; but +no one could deny that it was a charming apartment, or that it was a +glowing frame of rich tints for her youthful freshness.</p> + +<p>She had really studied in these years of her residence there, and each +month put something worth having into the storehouse of her intelligent +mind. She was as immeasurably removed from the Sabine Delburg of convent +days as light from darkness, and her companion had often been Monsieur +le Curé, an enchanting Jesuit priest, who had the care of the souls of +Héronac village. A great cynic, a pure Christian and a man of parts—a +distant connection of the original family—Gaston d'Héronac had known +the world in his day; and after much sorrow had found a hermitage in his +own village—a consolation in the company of this half-French, +half-American heiress, who had incorporated herself with the soil. He +was now seventy years of age and always a gentleman, with few of the +tiresome habits of the old.</p> + +<p>What joy he had found in opening the mind of his young Dame d'Héronac!</p> + +<p>It was frankly admitted that there were to be no discussions upon +religion.</p> + +<p>"I am a pagan, <i>cher père</i>," Sabine had said, almost immediately, "leave +me!—and let me enjoy your sweet church and your fisherfolks' faith. I +will come there every Sunday and say my prayers—<i>mes prières à +moi</i>—<span><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a></span>and then we can discuss philosophy afterwards or—what you will."</p> + +<p>And the priest had replied:</p> + +<p>"Religion is not of dogma. The paganism of Dame Sabine is as good in the +sight of le bon Dieu as the belief of Jean Rivée, who knows that his +boat was guided into the harbor on the night of the great storm by the +Holy Virgin, who posed Herself by the helm. Heavens! yes—it is God who +judges—not priests."</p> + +<p>It can be easily understood that with two minds of this breadth, Père +Anselme and Sabine Howard became real friends.</p> + +<p>The Curé, when he read with her the masters of the <i>dix-septième</i> and +the <i>dix-huitième</i> had a quaintly humorous expression in his old black +eye.</p> + +<p>"Not for girls or for priests—but for <i>des gens du monde</i>," he said to +her one day, on putting down a volume of Voltaire.</p> + +<p>"Of what matter," Sabine had answered. "Since I am not a girl, <i>cher +maître</i>, and you were once not a priest, and we are both <i>gens du +monde—hein</i>?"</p> + +<p>His breeding had been of enormous advantage to him, enabling him to +refrain from asking Sabine a single question; but he knew from her +ejaculations as time went on that she had passed through some furnace +during her eighteenth year, and it had seared her deeply. He even knew +more than this; he knew almost <span><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a></span>as much as Simone, eventually, but it +was all locked in his breast and never even alluded to between them.</p> + +<p>Sabine was waiting for him at this moment upon this glorious day in +August. Père Anselme was going to breakfast with her.</p> + +<p>He was announced presently, courtly and spare and distinguished in his +thread-bare soutane, and they went in to the breakfast-room, a round +chamber in the adjoining tower which had kitchens beneath. The walls +were here so thick, that only the sky could be seen from any window +except the southeastern one, from which you reviewed the gray slate +roofs of the later building within the courtyard, the part which had +been always habitable and which contained the salons and the guest +chambers, with only an oblique view of the sea. Here, in Héronac's +mistress' own apartments, the waves eternally encircled the base, and on +rough days rose in great clouds of spray almost to the deep mullions.</p> + +<p>"I am having visitors, Père Anselme," Sabine remarked, when Nicholas, +her fat butler, was handing the omelette. "Madame Imogen is enchanted," +and she smiled at that lady who had been waiting for déjeuner in the +room before they had entered.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tant mieux!</i>" responded the priest, with his mouth full of egg and +mushroom. In his youth, the Héronacs had not imported English nurses, +and he ate as his fathers had done before him.</p> + +<p>"So much the better. Our lady is too given to soli<span><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a></span>tude, and but for the +meteor-like descents of the Princess Torniloni and her tamed father—" +(he used the word <i>aprivoisé</i>—"<i>son père aprivoisé</i>"!) "we should here +see very little of the outside world. And of what sex, madame, are these +new acquaintances, if one may ask?"</p> + +<p>"They are men, <i>cher père</i>—bold, bad Englishmen!—think of it! but I +can only tell you the name of one of them—the other is +problematical—he has merely been spoken of as, 'My friend'—but he is +young, I gather, so just the affaire of Mère Imogen!"</p> + +<p>"Why, that's likely!" chirped Madame Imogen, with a strong American +accent, in her French English. "But I do pine for some gay things down +here, don't you, Father?"</p> + +<p>Père Anselme was heard to murmur that he found youth enough in his +hostess, if you asked him.</p> + +<p>"At the same time, we must welcome these Englishmen," he added, "should +they be people of cultivation." He had heard that, in their upper +classes, the Englishmen of to-day were still the greatest gentlemen +left, and he would be pleased to meet examples of them.</p> + +<p>"They will arrive at about five o'clock, I suppose," Sabine announced. +"Have you seen about their rooms, Mère Imogen? Lord Fordyce is to have +the Louis XIV suite, and the friend the one beyond; and we will only let +them come into our house if they do not bore us. We shall dine in the +<i>salle-à-manger</i> to-night and sit in the big salon."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a></span>These rooms were seldom opened, except when Princess Torniloni came to +stay and brought her son, Sabine's godchild, who had elaborate nurseries +prepared for him. No other visitor had ever crossed the causeway, and +Madame Imogen's cute mind was asking itself why clemency had been +accorded to these two Britons. The English, as she knew, were not a +favored race with her employer.</p> + +<p>They had been together for about two years now, she and Sabine—and were +excellent friends.</p> + +<p>Madame Imogen Aubert had been in great straits in Paris, when Sabine had +heard of her through one of her many American acquaintances. Stupid +speculation by an over-confident, silly French husband just before his +death in Nevada had been the reason. Madame Imogen had the kindest heart +and the hardest common sense, and did credit to a distant Scotch +descent. She adored Sabine, as indeed she had reason to do, and looked +after her house and her servants with a hawk's eye.</p> + +<p>After déjeuner was over, the Dame d'Héronac and the Curé crossed the +causeway bridge, and beyond the great towered gate entered another at +the side, which conducted them into the garden, which sheltered itself +behind immensely big walls from the road which curled beyond it, and the +sea which bounded it on the northwest. Here, whatever horticultural +talent and money could procure had been lavished for four years, <span><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></span>and +the results were beginning to show. It was a glorious mass of summer +flowers; and was the supreme pleasure of Père Anselme. He gardened with +the fervor of an enthusiast, and was the joy and terror of the +gardeners.</p> + +<p>They spent two hours in delightful work, and then the Curé went his +way—but just before he left for the hundred yards down the road where +his cottage stood, Sabine said to him:</p> + +<p>"Regard well Lord Fordyce to-night, <i>mon père</i>. It is possible I may +decide to know him very intimately some day—when I am free."</p> + +<p>The old priest looked at her questioningly.</p> + +<p>"You intend to remove your shackles yourself, then, my child? You will +not leave the affair to the good God—no?"</p> + +<p>"I think that it will be wiser that I should be free soon, <i>mon père</i>—<i>le +bon Dieu</i> helps those who help themselves. Au revoir—and do not be late +for the Englishmen."</p> + +<p>The priest shrugged his high shoulders, as he walked off.</p> + +<p>"The dear child," he said to himself. "She does not know it, but the +image of the fierce one has not faded entirely even yet—it is natural, +though, that she should think of a mate. I must well examine this +Englishman!"</p> + +<p>Sabine went back into the walled garden again, and <span><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a></span>sat down under the +shelter of an arbour of green. She wanted to re-read a letter of Henry +Fordyce's, which she had received that day by the early and only post.</p> + +<p>It was rather a perfect letter for any young woman to have got, and she +knew that and valued all its literary and artistic merits.</p> + +<p>They had had long and frequent conversations in their last three days at +Carlsbad, during which they had grown nearer and still better friends. +His gentleness, his courtesy and diffidence were such incense to her +self-esteem, considering the position of importance he held in his own +country and the great place he seemed to occupy in the Princess' regard. +And he was her servant—her slave—and would certainly make the most +tender lover—some day!</p> + +<p>On their last afternoon, he had taken her hands and kissed them.</p> + +<p>"Sabine," he had said, with his voice trembling with emotion. "I have +shown you that I can control myself, and have not made any love to you +as I have longed to do. Won't you be generous, dearest, and give me some +definite hope—some definite promise that, when you are free, you will +give yourself to me and will be my wife——?"</p> + +<p>And she had answered—with more fervor than she really felt, because she +would hide some unaccountable reluctance:</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a></span>"Yes—I have written to-day to my lawyer, Mr. Parsons—to advise me how +to begin to take the necessary steps—and when it all goes through, +then—yes—I will marry you."</p> + +<p>But she would not let him kiss her, which he showed signs of desiring to +do.</p> + +<p>"You must wait until I am free, though my marriage is no tie; it has +never been one—after the first year. I will tell you the whole story, +if you want to hear it—but I wish to forget it all—only it is fair for +you to know there is no disgrace connected with it in any way."</p> + +<p>"I should not care one atom if there were," Henry said, ecstatically. +"You yourself could never have touched any disgrace. Your eyes are as +pure as the stars!"</p> + +<p>"I was extremely ignorant and foolish, as one is at seventeen. And now I +want to make something of life—some great thing—and your goodness and +your high and fine ideals will help me."</p> + +<p>"My dearest!" he had cried fervently.</p> + +<p>Sabine had said to the Princess that night, as they talked in their +sitting-room:</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Morri, I have almost decided to marry this +Englishman—some day. You have often told me I was foolish not to free +myself from any bonds, however lightly they held me—and I have never +wanted to—but now I do—at once—as soon as possible—<span><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a></span>before—my +husband can suggest being free of me! I have written to Mr. Parsons +already—and I suppose it will not take very long. The laws there, I +believe, are not so binding as in England—" and then she stopped short.</p> + +<p>"The laws—where?" Moravia could not refrain from asking; her curiosity +had at last won the day.</p> + +<p>"In Scotland, Morri. He was a Scotchman, not an American at all as every +one supposes."</p> + +<p>The Princess' eyes opened wide—and she had to bite her lips to keep +from asking more.</p> + +<p>"I have never seen him since the day after we were married—there cannot +be any difficulty about getting a divorce—can there?"</p> + +<p>"None, I should think," the Princess said shortly, and they kissed one +another good-night and each went to her room.</p> + +<p>But Moravia sat a long time, after her maid had left her, staring into +space.</p> + +<p>Fate was very cruel and contrary. It gave her everything that most +people could want, and refused her the one thing she desired herself.</p> + +<p>"He adores Sabine—who will trample on him—she always rules +everything—and I would have been his sympathetic companion, and would +have let him rule me—!" Then something she could not reconcile in her +mind struck her.</p> + +<p>If Sabine had never seen her husband since the day <span><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a></span>after she was +married—what had caused her to be so pale and sad and utterly changed +when she came to her, Moravia, in Rome—a year or more afterwards, and +to have made her break entirely with her uncle and aunt? The secret of +her friend's life lay in that year—that year after she herself married +and went off with her husband Girolamo to Italy—the year which Sabine +had spent in America—alone. But she knew very well that, fond as they +were of one another, Sabine would probably never tell her about it. So +presently she got into bed and, sighing at the incongruity and +inconsiderateness of circumstance, she turned out the light.</p> + +<p>Sabine that same night read of further entertainments at Ostende in the +<i>New York Herald</i>—and shut her full, firm lips with an ominous force. +And so she and Henry had parted at the Carlsbad station next day with +the understanding between them that, when Sabine could tell him that she +was free, he would be at liberty to press his suit and she would give a +favorable answer.</p> + +<p>She thought of these past things now for a moment while she re-read Lord +Fordyce's letter. It told her, there in her Héronac garden, in a hurried +P. S. that a friend had joined him that moment at Havre, and clamored to +be taken on the trip, too, claiming an old promise. He was quite a nice +young man—but if she did not want any extra person, she was to wire to +----, where they would arrive about eleven o'clock, and there this +interloper should be ruthlessly marooned!<span><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a></span> The post had evidently been +going, and the P. S. must have been written in frightful haste after the +advent of the friend—for his name was not even given.</p> + +<p>Sabine had not wired. She felt a certain sense of relief. It would make +someone to talk to Madame Imogen and the Curé—and cause there to be no +<i>gêne</i>.</p> + +<p>Then her thoughts turned to Henry himself with tender friendship. So +dear a companion, and how glad she would be to see him again. The ten +days since they had parted at Carlsbad seemed actually long! Surely it +was a wise thing to do to start her real life with one whom she could so +truly respect; there could be no pitfalls and disappointments! And his +great position in England would give scope for her ambition, which never +could be satisfied like Moravia's with just social things. She would +begin to study English politics and the other great matters which Henry +was interested in. He would find that what she had told him at Carlsbad +was true, and that, although he was naturally prejudiced against +Americans, he would have to admit that she, as his wife, played the part +as well, if not better, than one of his own countrywomen could have +done. She thrilled a little as the picture came up before her of the +large outlook she would have to survey, and the great situation she +would have to adorn, but sure of Henry's devoted kindness and gentleness +all the time.</p> + +<p>Yes—she would certainly marry him, perhaps by <span><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a></span>next year. Mr. Parsons +had written only yesterday, saying he had begun to take steps, as her +freedom must come from the side of her husband—who could divorce her +for desertion. She could not urge this plea against him, since she had +left him of her own free will.</p> + +<p>"He will jump at the chance, naturally," she said to herself—"and then, +perhaps, he will marry Daisy Van der Horn!"</p> + +<p>She was still a very young woman, you see, for all her four years of +deep education in the world of books!</p> + +<p>She put the letter back in her basket below the flowers she had picked, +and prepared to return to the château. To arrange various combinations +of color in vases was her peculiar joy—and her flower decorations were +her special care. She was just entering the great towered gate of +Héronac where resided the concierge, when she heard the whir of a motor +approaching in the distance, and she hurriedly slipped inside old +Berthe's parlor. She disliked dust and strangers, who, fortunately, very +seldom came upon this unbeaten track.</p> + +<p>She was watching from the window until they should have passed—it could +not be her guests, it was quite an hour too soon, when the motor whizzed +round the bend and stopped short at the gate! It was a big open one, and +the occupants wore goggles over their eyes; but she recognized Lord +Fordyce's figure, as he <span><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a></span>got out followed by a very tall young man, who +called out cheerily:</p> + +<p>"Yes—this must be the brigand's stronghold, Henry; let's thunder at the +bell."</p> + +<p>Then for a moment her knees gave way beneath her, and she sank into +Berthe's carved oaken chair. For the voice was the voice of Michael +Arranstoun—and when he pulled the goggles off, she could see, as she +peered through the window, his sunburnt face and bold blue eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">O</span> +<span class="smcap">stende</span> had begun to bore Michael Arranstoun intolerably—he had lamed +his best pony and Miss Daisy Van der Horn was getting on his nerves. At +Ostende she, to use one of her own expressions, "was not the only pebble +on the beach." His nerves had had a good deal of exercise among that +exceedingly pleasure-loving, frolicsome crew.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>Five years in the wilds had not changed him much, except to add to his +annoying charm. He was more absolutely dare-devil and sure of himself +and careless of all else than ever. Miss Daisy Van der Horn—and a +number of Clarices and Germaines and Lolos—were "just crazy" about him. +And they mattered to him not a single straw. He laughed—and kissed them +when he felt inclined, and then when all had begun to weary him he rode +away—or rather sent his polo ponies back to England and got into the +express for Paris, expecting there to find Henry Fordyce returned from +Carlsbad—only to hear that he had just started in his motor <span><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a></span>for +Brittany, and by that evening would have arrived at Havre.</p> + +<p>Michael had nothing special to do and so followed him there at once by +train, coming upon him just as he was closing his letter to Mrs. Howard. +Then in his usual whirlwind way, which must be obeyed—he had persuaded +Henry to take him on with him, inwardly against that astute +politician's, but diffident lover's will.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Michael," he had said, "I am going to see the lady of my +heart—you know, and you will probably be in the way!"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, old boy—I'll play the helpful friend and spin things along. +What's she like?"</p> + +<p>Here Lord Fordyce gave a guarded description—but with the enthusiasm of +a man who is no longer quite young but madly in love.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" whistled Michael. "She must be a daisy! And when are you +going to be married, old man? I'll lend you Arranstoun for the +honeymoon—damned good place for a honeymoon—" and then he stopped +short suddenly and laughed with a strange regretful sound in his mirth.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" Henry sighed. "I cannot say—she is an American, you know, and +has been married to a brute of her own nation out west, whom she has to +get perfectly free of before I can have the honor to call her mine."</p> + +<p>"Whew!"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a></span>"Yes, it is a dreadful bore having to wait. They arrange divorces +wonderfully well over there though it is only a question of a few +months, I suppose—but she would be worth waiting for for ten years——"</p> + +<p>"It is simply glorious to hear you raving so, old bird!" Michael +laughed. "When I think of the lectures you used to give me about +women—mere recreations for a man's leisure moments, I think you called +them, and not to be taken seriously in a man's real life!"</p> + +<p>"I have completely changed my opinions," Lord Fordyce announced, rather +nettled. "So would any man if he knew Mrs. Howard."</p> + +<p>"Howard?" asked Michael—"but anyone can be a Talbot or a Howard or a +Cavendish out there—so she is a Mrs. Howard, is she? I wonder who the +husband was—I had a rascally cousin of that name who went to +Arizona—perhaps she married him."</p> + +<p>"Her husband was an American," Henry rejoined, "and is in a madhouse or +an institution for inebriates, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish you all joy, Henry, I do, indeed—and I promise you I will +do all I can to help you through with it. I won't retaliate for your +thundering niggardness five years ago, when you would not even be my +best man, do you remember?"</p> + +<p>"This is quite different, my dear boy," Lord Fordyce assured him with +dignity. "You were going to <span><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a></span>do what I thought a most casual thing, just +for your own ends, but I—Michael—" and his cultivated voice vibrated +with feeling—"I love this woman as I never thought I should love +anything on God's earth."</p> + +<p>"Then here's to you!" said Mr. Arranstoun, and ringing the bell for the +waiter, ordered a pint of champagne to drink his friend's health.</p> + +<p>So they had started in the motor after breakfast next day and that night +slept at St. Malo—getting to Héronac without adventure the following +afternoon.</p> + +<p>When no telegram was awaiting Lord Fordyce at —— where they +breakfasted, he remarked to Michael:</p> + +<p>"She does not mind your coming—or she would have wired—I wish I were +as indifferent about it—Michael—" and Henry stammered a +little—"you'll promise me as a friend—you will not look into her eyes +with your confounded blue ones and try to cut me out."</p> + +<p>For some reason this appeal touched something in Michael's heart, his +voice was full of cordiality and his blue bold eyes swam with kindly +affection as he answered:</p> + +<p>"I'm not a beast, Henry—and I don't want every woman I see—and anyone +you fancied would in any case be sacred to me," and he held out his +hand. "Give you my word as I told you before, I'll not only promise you +on my honor that I'll not cut in myself, but I'll do everything I can to +help you, old man," then he <span><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a></span>laughed to hide the seriousness of his +feeling—"even to lending Arranstoun for the honeymoon."</p> + +<p>So they grasped hands and sealed the bargain and got into the motor and +went on their way.</p> + +<p>The first view of Héronac had enchanted them both, it was indeed a +unique place.</p> + +<p>"What taste!" Henry had said. "Fancy a young woman knowing and seeing at +once the possibilities of such a place!"</p> + +<p>"It is as grim as Arranstoun and nearly as old," Michael exclaimed. "I +am glad we came."</p> + +<p>Sabine shrank back into Berthe's little kitchen and signalled to her not +to make known the hostess' presence—but to let the gentlemen drive over +the causeway bridge to the courtyard—where they would be told by +Nicholas that she was in the garden, and would probably be brought there +to her by Madame Imogen who would have welcomed them.</p> + +<p>Her firm will forced her to pull herself together and decide what to do +when they should come face to face. To be totally unconcerned was the +best thing—to look and act as though Michael Arranstoun were indeed a +perfect stranger introduced to her for the first time in her life. It +would take him some moments to be certain that she was Sabine—his +wife—and he would then not be likely to make a scene before Henry—and +when the moment for plain speaking came, she would sternly demand to be +set free. She had kept silence to Henry <span><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a></span>as to who her husband really +was—for no reason except that the whole subject disturbed her +greatly—the very mention of Michael's name or the thought of him always +filling her with wild and mixed emotions. She had schooled herself in +the years that had gone by since their parting, into absolutely +banishing his memory every time it recurred. She had a vague feeling +that she must be free of him, and safe before she could even pronounce +his name to Lord Fordyce, who naturally must know eventually. There was +an unaccountable and not understood fear in her—fear that in the +discussion which must arise if she spoke of who her husband was to +Henry, that something might transpire, or that she might hear something +which would reawaken certain emotions, and weaken her determination to +break the even empty bond with Michael. And now she had seen him again +with her mortal eyes, and she knew that she was trembling and tingling +with a mad sensation of she knew not what—hatred and revulsion she +hoped! but was only sure of one aspect of it—that of wild excitement.</p> + +<p>No one—not a single soul—neither Simone—Madame Imogen—nor Père +Anselme himself must be allowed to see that she recognized Michael—her +belief that her countrywomen were fine actresses should stand her in +good stead, and enable her to play this part of unconsciousness to +perfection. <i>She would</i> conquer herself—and she stamped her little foot +there in the <span><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a></span>high turret bower in the garden where she had retired. Its +windows opened straight out to the sea and she often had tea there. +There would be no use in all her prayers for calm and poise if they +should desert her now in this great crisis of her life. She was bound to +Henry by her promised word, given of her own free will—and she meant to +keep it, and do everything in her power to make herself free. She was an +extremely honest person, honest even with herself, and she realized that +either her own weakness or indecision, or some other motive had forced +her to give a definite answer to Lord Fordyce—and that he was too fine +a character to be played with and tossed about because of her moods. She +had mastered every sign of emotion by the time Madame Imogen's +comfortable figure, accompanied by the two men, could be seen advancing +in the distance. She rose with the gracious smile of a hostess and held +out her hand—pleased surprise upon her face.</p> + +<p>"So you have come! but earlier than I thought," and she shook hands with +Henry, and then turned to his friend without the slightest +embarrassment, as Lord Fordyce spoke his name.</p> + +<p>"How do you do," she said politely. "You are both very welcome to +Héronac."</p> + +<p>Michael had merely seen a pretty outline of a young woman until they had +got quite close and she had raised her head and lifted the shadow of her +big garden <span><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a></span>sun-bonnet—and then he stiffened suddenly and grew very +pale. He was a little behind the other two, and they observed nothing, +but Sabine saw the change of color in his healthy handsome face, and the +look of surprise and incredulity and puzzle which grew in his blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" he murmured, and then pulled himself together and +looked at her hard.</p> + +<p>But she stood his scrutiny with perfect unconcern—even meeting his eye +with a blank, agreeable want of recognition; while she made some +ordinary remark about their journey. Then pointing to her basket:</p> + +<p>"See—I was picking flowers for my sitting-room and I did not expect you +for another hour—what a silent motor you must have that its noise did +not penetrate here!"</p> + +<p>Henry was so overcome with joy to see her, and that she should be so +gracious and sweet—he said all sorts of nice things and walked by her +side as they came down from the turret summer-house. She looked the +picture of a fresh June rose as she carried her basket full of August +flowers—phloxes and penstemons and a great bunch of late sweet peas. +And Michael felt almost that he was staggering a little as he followed +with Madame Imogen, the shock had been so great.</p> + +<p>Was it really Sabine—his wife!—or could she have a double in the +world. Maddening uncertainty was his portion. He must know, he must be +certain—and if <span><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a></span>she were his wife—what then? What did it mean? He +could not claim her—she was engaged to Henry, his friend—to whom he +had given his word of honor that he would help as much as he could. It +was no wonder that he answered Madame Imogen's prattle, crisp and +American and amusing though it was, quite at random—his whole attention +being upon the pair in front.</p> + +<p>Sabine also found that she was not hearing a word Henry said, but that +the wildest excitement which she had ever known was coursing through her +blood. At last she did catch that he was telling her that never had she +been more beautiful or had brighter eyes.</p> + +<p>"This place must suit you even better than Carlsbad," he said.</p> + +<p>She answered laughingly and led the way toward the gate and so across +the causeway and on into her own sitting-room where they would find tea. +She supposed afterwards that she had talked sensibly, but never had any +recollection of what she had said.</p> + +<p>The room was looking singularly beautiful with the wonderful coloring of +the splendid curtains, and the tapestry and dark wood. And it was a +homely place, too, with quantities of book-cases and comfortable chairs +for all its vast size. Michael thought there was a faint look of his own +room at Arranstoun—and he joined the two who had advanced to one of the +huge embrasures of the windows where the tea table was laid—<span><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a></span>here there +were velvet-covered window seats where one could lounge and gaze out at +the sea.</p> + +<p>"What an exquisite place!" he exclaimed. "It reminds me of Arranstoun, +does it not you, Henry?—although that is not near the sea."</p> + +<p>The color deepened in Sabine's cheeks—had she unconsciously made it +resemble that place? She did not know, and the suggestion struck her +with surprise.</p> + +<p>Michael had recognized her of course, she saw that, but he was a +gentleman and intended to play the game. That was an immense relief. She +could allow herself to look at him critically now—not with just the +cursory glance she had bestowed upon Henry's friend at first—for he had +turned and was talking to Madame Imogen whom Sabine had signed to pour +out the tea—she was not sure if her own hand might not have shaken a +little and it were wiser to take no risks.</p> + +<p>He was horribly good-looking—that jumped to the eye—and with a +careless, indifferent grace—five years had only matured and increased +his attractions. He had "it"—manifesting in every part of him and his +atmosphere! A magnetism, a hateful, odious power which she felt, and +fiercely resented. He had recovered completely from whatever shock he +had felt upon seeing her it would seem! for his face looked absolutely +unconcerned now and perfectly at ease.</p> + +<p>She called all her forces together and played the part of the radiant, +well-mannered hostess, being even extra <span><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a></span>sweet and charming to Henry, +who was in the seventh heaven in consequence. The dreaded introduction +of his too-fascinating friend at Héronac had passed off well and his +adored lady did not seem to be taking any notice of him.</p> + +<p>Michael did not seek by word or look to engage her in personal +conversation; if he had really been a stranger who did not even find his +hostess fair, he could not have been more casual or less impressed. And +all the while his pulses were bounding and he was growing more and more +filled with astonishment and emotion.</p> + +<p>At last a thought came. Why, of course! Henry had told her he was +coming, so she had expected the meeting and had had time to school +herself to act! But this straw was not long vouchsafed him, and then +stupefaction set in, for Henry chanced to say:</p> + +<p>"You must forgive me for not having time to write you my friend's name +in my postscript, the post was off that minute—you had to take him on +trust!"</p> + +<p>"I do not know that I even caught it just now!" Sabine returned archly. +"Mr. ——?"</p> + +<p>And Henry, engaged for a moment taking a second cup of tea from Madame +Imogen's fat hand, Michael answered for him, looking straight into her +eyes:</p> + +<p>"Michael Howard Arranstoun of Arranstoun over the border in +Scotland—like Gretna Green."</p> + +<p>"How romantic that sounds," Madame Imogen <span><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a></span>chimed in. "Why, it's a name +fit for a stage play I do think. A party of my friends visited that very +castle only last fall. Mrs. Howard dear, it's as well known as the +Trossachs to investigators of the antique!"</p> + +<p>"Wonderfully interesting!" Sabine remarked blandly—putting more sugar +in her tea—at which Michael's eyebrows raised themselves in a whimsical +way—back had rushed to him the recollection that on the only occasion +they had ever drunk tea together before, she had said that she liked +"lumps and lumps of it!"</p> + +<p>"You probably know England?" he hazarded politely.</p> + +<p>"Very little. I was once there for a month when I was a child; we went +to see Windermere and the Lakes."</p> + +<p>"You got no further north? That was a pity, our country is most +beautiful—but it is not too late—you may go there yet some day."</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" and she laughed gaily—she had to allow herself some +outlet, she felt she would otherwise have screamed.</p> + +<p>Michael looked away out to sea and he told himself he must not tease her +any more. She was astonishingly game—so astonishingly game that but for +the name "Howard" he could have almost believed that this young woman +was his Sabine's double—but he remembered now that she had said she was +going to call herself Mrs. Howard because otherwise she would not be +able to "have any fun!"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a></span>He had never recollected it since, not even when Henry had told him the +lady of his heart was called Howard—obscured by his friend's assertion +that her husband was an American, he had not for an instant suspected +the least connection with himself.</p> + +<p>Until he could find out the meaning of all this comedy, he must not let +Henry have an idea that there was anything underneath; and then with a +pang of mortification and pain he remembered his promise to Henry—and +he clenched his hands in his coat pockets, he was indeed tied and bound.</p> + +<p>Sabine for her part felt she could bear the situation no longer; she +must be alone—so on the plea of letters to write, she dismissed them +with Madame Imogen to show them to their rooms in the other part of the +house which was connected to this, her two great turrets and middle +immense room, by a passage which went along from the turret which +contained her bedroom.</p> + +<p>"You won't mind, perhaps, dining at half past seven?" she said as she +paused at her door, "because our good Curé, Père Anselme is coming, and +he hates to sit up late."</p> + +<p>And with the corner of his eye, Michael saw that before he hurried after +him, Henry had bent and surreptitiously kissed his hostess' hand—and a +sudden blinding, unreasoning rage shook him as he stalked on to his +allotted apartment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span> +<span class="smcap">abine</span> decided to be a little late for dinner—three minutes, just to +give the rest of the party time to be assembled in the big salon. She +was coming from the communicating passage to her part of the house when +Mr. Arranstoun came out of his room, and they were obliged to go down +the great staircase together.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>To see him suddenly in evening dress like this brought her wedding night +back so vividly to her, she with difficulty kept a gasp from her breath. +He was certainly the most splendidly good-looking creature, with his +blue eyes and dark hair and much fairer little moustache.</p> + +<p>"I am late!" she cried laughing, before he could speak a word. "Père +Anselme will scold me! Come along!" and she tripped forward with a +glance over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>Michael's eyes blazed—she was a truly bewitching morsel in her fresh +white frock with its bunch of crimson sweet peas stuck in the belt.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a></span>"Your flowers should be stephanotis," he said, and that was all, as he +followed her down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear them," she retorted and shuddered a little. "I only care +for out-door, simple things like my sweet peas."</p> + +<p>He did not speak as they went along the gallery—this disconcerted +her—what did it mean? She had been prepared to fence with him, and keep +him in his place, she was ready to defend herself on all sides—and no +defence seemed necessary! A sudden cold feeling came over her as though +excitement had died down and she opened the salon door quickly and +advanced into the room.</p> + +<p>Michael had come to a determination while dressing—Henry had walked in +and smoked a cigarette with him before he began, and had then showed +plainly his joy and satisfaction. She—his worshiped lady—had never +before been so tender and gracious, and he was awfully happy because +things were going well. And what did his friend Michael think of his +choice? Was she not the sweetest woman in the world?</p> + +<p>Michael said he had seen better-looking ones, but admitted she had +charm. He was really suffering, the situation was so impossible and he +had not yet made up his mind what he ought to do—tell Henry straight +out that Sabine was his wife or what? If he did that he might be going +contrary to some plan of hers—for she evidently had no intention yet of +informing Lord<span><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a></span> Fordyce, or of giving the least indication that she +recognized him—Michael. It was the most grotesque puzzle and contained +an element of the tragic, too—for one of them.</p> + +<p>Henry's happiness and contentment touched him—his dear old friend!—he +felt extraordinarily upset. But when Lord Fordyce had gone he rapidly +reviewed matters and made up his mind. At all events, for the present, +he would be guided by what Sabine's attitude should be herself. He would +certainly see her alone on the following day and then she would most +likely broach the subject and they could agree what to do—for that +Henry must know some day was an incontestable fact. He, Michael, would +make some excuse and leave Héronac by the next evening, it was +impossible to go on playing such a part, and not fair to any one, least +of all to his friend.</p> + +<p>"I will give her to-night to declare her hand," he thought, as his +valet, no longer the dignified Johnson, handed him his coat, "and then +if she will not put the cards down—I must."</p> + +<p>But when he opened his door and saw her exquisite slender figure +tripping forward from the dark passage, a fierce pain gripped his heart, +and he said between his teeth:</p> + +<p>"My God! if it had not been too late!"</p> + +<p>The Dame d'Héronac was in wild spirits at dinner—and her cheeks burned +like glowing roses.<span><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a></span> Monsieur le Curé watched her with his wise, black +eye.</p> + +<p>"The child is not herself," he thought. "It is possible that this +Englishman may mean a great deal to her—but he is of the gentle type, +not of the sort one would believe to make strong passions—no—now if it +had been the other one—the friend—that one could have seen some light +through—a young man well able to fill the heart of any woman—a fine +young man, a splendid young man—but yes."</p> + +<p>Madame Imogen made no reflections, she was too delighted with their gay +repast, and helped with her jolly wit to keep the ball rolling.</p> + +<p>Henry felt slightly intoxicated with happiness—while in Michael, +passions of various sorts were rising, against his will.</p> + +<p>A devil was in Sabine—never had she been so alluring, so feminine, so +completely removed from her usual grave, indifferent self.</p> + +<p>She did not look at Michael once or vouchsafe him any conversation +beyond what cordial politeness compelled. It was to Père Anselme that +she almost made love, with shy sallies at Henry, and merry replies to +Madame Imogen. But her whole atmosphere was radiating with provoking +fascination—and as they all rose from table she took Lord Fordyce's +arm.</p> + +<p>"In England, I hear you men remain in the dining room to drink all sorts +of ports—but here in my France <span><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a></span>we expect you to be sociable and come +with us at once—you may smoke where you choose."</p> + +<p>Henry could not refrain from caressing with his other hand the little +cold one lying on his arm as they walked along—while he whispered with +passionate devotion:</p> + +<p>"My darling, darling girl!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she answered nervously. "Your friend will hear!"</p> + +<p>"And if he does! what matter, dearest—he knows that I love you, and +that as soon as you are free you are going to be my wife."</p> + +<p>There must have been a slight roughness in the carpet which slid upon +the slippery floor, for the Dame d'Héronac stumbled a little and then +gasped:</p> + +<p>"He—knows that——!"</p> + +<p>And by the time they all reached the salon, her rosy cheeks were pale, +while the pupils of her violet eyes were so large as to make them appear +to be black as night.</p> + +<p>The gay sprite of the dinner-table seemed to have taken her departure +and a dignified and serious hostess filled her place. A hostess who +discoursed of gardens, and architecture, and such subjects—and at ten +o'clock when the Père Anselme gave his blessing and wished the company +good-night, also gave a white hand to her guests, saying that Madame +Imogen would show them the small salon where they could smoke and have +their drinks before retiring to their rooms, then she bowed to <span><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a></span>them and +walked off slowly to her part of the house.</p> + +<p>When she had gone, Michael said a little hoarsely to Henry:</p> + +<p>"I have got the fiend of a headache, old man. I think I won't smoke, but +turn in at once."</p> + +<p>An hour or two later, when the whole château was wrapped in +darkness—the mistress of it crept from her bed-room to the great +sitting-room, and turning on the light, she unlocked a blue despatch-box +which stood beside her writing-table. From this she took a letter, +marked a little with former perusals—and she read it over once more +from beginning to end.</p> + +<p>It had</p> + +<div class="center smcap"> +Arranstoun Castle,<br /> +Scotland, +</div> + +<p>stamped upon it in red and it bore a date in June, 1907. It had no +beginning and thus it ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +<p>Since after everything I wake to find you have chosen to leave me +you can abide by your decision. I will not follow you or ever seek +to bring you back. It is useless to ask you if you meant that you +forgave me—because your going proves that you really have not—so +make what you please of your life as I shall make what I please of +mine.</p> + +<p class="smcap" style="text-align: right;">Michael Arranstoun.</p> +</div> + +<p class="padtop">When she put the paper back again, glittering tears gathered and rolled +in shining drops down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>He had meant that last paragraph then, and he meant <span><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a></span>it now evidently, +since he knew that she was pledged to marry Henry when she should be +free, and had made no protest. Perhaps he was glad and intended to marry +Miss Daisy van der Horn! Her tears dried suddenly—and her cheeks +burned. She must think this situation out, and not just drift. It was +plain that Michael had been astonished to the point of stupefaction on +seeing her. He could not have known then that his friend wished to marry +her—Sabine—only that his friend wished to marry the lady they were +going to see. But he knew it afterwards, he knew it at dinner—and yet +he said never a word. What could it mean? What could be best to do? +Perhaps to see him alone in the morning and ask him to grant her freedom +and get the divorce as quickly as possible. She could count upon herself +not to betray the slightest feeling in the interview. If only that +strange turn of fate had not brought Lord Fordyce into her life, what +glorious pleasure she would now take in trying her uttermost to +fascinate and attract Michael—not that she desired him for +herself!—only to punish him for all the past! But she was not free. She +had given her word to Henry. The humiliation of feeling that Michael was +making no protest, and would apparently from this fact agree willingly +to divorce her, stung her pride and made her want to make him suffer and +regret in some way. If she could believe that it was paining him, she +would be glad—and if it appeared possible to keep up the pretence of +unrecogni<span><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></span>tion for longer than to-morrow, she would certainly do so; it +was a frantic excitement in any case, and she adored difficult games. +Then as she put the letter back in her despatch-box, her hand touched a +large blue enamel locket, and with a shiver she hastily shut down the +lid, and as one fleeing from a ghost she ran back to bed.</p> + +<p>Michael meanwhile was pacing his room in deep and agitated thought.</p> + +<p>How supremely attractive she was! And to have to give her up to Henry; +it was too frightfully cruel. But he had absolutely no right to stand in +either of their lights. He had not even the right to undermine his +friend's influence by deed or look, since he had given him his word of +honor that he would not do so. What a blind fool he had been all those +years ago to let passionate rage at Sabine's daring to leave him make +him write her that letter. He would not have done it if he had not felt +such an intolerable brute—and glad to cut the whole thing by accepting +Latimer Berkeley's suggestion to join him for the China expedition at +once. The Berkeley letter coming that next morning was a stroke of fate. +If he had had a day to think about things, he would have followed his +impulse after the anger died down, and gone after her to Mr. Parsons' +London address, but he had already wired to Latimer and his resentful +blood was up.</p> + +<p>He remembered how he had not allowed himself to <span><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a></span>think of her—but had +concentrated his whole mind upon his sport. For it had been tremendous +sport and had interested him deeply, that journey to Tibet. And however +strong feelings may be at moments—absence and fresh interests dull +them. To banish her memory became a good deal easier as time went on, +and even the idea to divorce her if she wished did not seem too hard.</p> + +<p>But now he had seen her again—and every spell she had cast over him on +that June night was renewed ten-fold. She was everything he could +desire—she was beautiful and sweet and witty, with a charm which only +complete independence and indifference can ever give a woman in the eyes +of such a man as he. This he did not reason out—thinking himself a very +ordinary person—in fact, never thinking of himself at all or what his +temperament was affected by. He did not realize either that the very +fact of Sabine's being now out of his reach made her appear the one and +only thing he cared to possess. He knew nothing except that he felt +perfectly mad with fate—mad with himself for making an unconditional +promise to Henry, perfectly furious that he had been too stupid to +connect the name of Howard at once with his wife.</p> + +<p>And here he was sleeping in her castle—not she sleeping in his! And he +was conforming to her lead—not she following his. And the only thing +for a gentleman to do under the complicated circumstances was to +speedily divorce her according to the Scottish law and let her <span><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a></span>marry +his friend, Henry Fordyce—give them his blessing and lend them +Arranstoun for the honeymoon!</p> + +<p>When he got thus far in his meditations, he simply stood in the middle +of the room and cursed aloud.</p> + +<p>Never in his whole life had bolts or bars or circumstances been allowed +to keep him from his will.</p> + +<p>And then it did come to his shrewd mind that these things were not +circumstances, but were barriers forged <i>by himself</i>.</p> + +<p>"If I had not been such an awful brute—and the moment had not been—as +it was—I might have gradually made her love me and kept her always for +my own!" his thoughts ran. "Well—we were both too young then—and now I +must take the consequences and at least not be a swine to poor old +Henry."</p> + +<p>With superb irony, among his letters next morning which he had wired to +be forwarded to Héronac, there came one from his lawyer, informing him +that he had received a guarded communication from his wife's +representative, Mr. Parsons—with what practically amounted to a request +that he, Mr. Arranstoun, should begin to set the law in motion, to break +the bond between them—and his lawyer inquired what his wishes were upon +the subject and what should be the nature of their reply?</p> + +<p>To get this at Héronac—Sabine's house! He shook with fierce laughter in +his bed.</p> + +<p>Then his temper got up, and he came to a fresh de<span><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a></span>termination. He would +break her pride—she should kneel if she wanted her freedom, she should +have it only if she asked him for it herself. He would not leave that +day after all! He would stay and play the comedy to its end. While she +would not recognize him, he would not recognize her. It was she who had +set the pace and the responsibility of not informing Henry lay at her +door. It was a damnably exciting game—far beyond polo or even slaying +long-haired tigers in Manchuria—and he would play it and bluff without +a card in his hand.</p> + +<p>He was not a noble hero, you see, but just a strong and passionate young +man—with "it"!</p> + +<p>The day was so gorgeous—Sabine woke with some kind of joyousness. She +was only twenty-two years old and supremely healthy; and however +complicated fate seemed to be, when nerves and appetite are perfect and +the sun is shining, it is really impossible to feel too gloomy.</p> + +<p>Her periwinkle cambric was a reflection of her eyes, and her brown hair +seemed filled with rays of gold as she stepped across the courtyard at +about ten o'clock on her way to the garden. Her guests would sleep +late—and at breakfast at twelve would be time enough to see them.</p> + +<p>But Michael caught sight of the top of a wide straw hat, and the flutter +of a bluish gown from his window, and did not hesitate for a second. +Henry, he knew, was <span><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a></span>only in his bath, while he himself was fully +dressed in immaculate white flannels.</p> + +<p>It did not take him five minutes to gain the courtyard, or to saunter +over the causeway bridge, and into the garden—he had brought the +English papers with him, which had been among his post. He would pretend +he had sought solitude and would be duly surprised and pleased to +encounter his hostess. That he had no business in her private garden at +all without her invitation did not trouble him, things like that never +blocked his way; he had always been too welcome anywhere for such an +aspect even to have presented itself to him.</p> + +<p>He played his part to perfection—reconnoitering as stealthily as when +he was stalking big game, until he perceived his quarry at the far end +among the lavender, giving orders to a gardener. He then turned in the +opposite direction, with great unconsciousness, to read the paper in +peace apparently being his only care! Here he paced the walk which cut +off her retreat from the gate, never glancing up. Sabine saw him of +course, and her heart began to beat—was it possible for a man to be so +good-looking or so utterly casual and devil-may-care! If she walked +toward the arbor turret he would be obliged to see her when she came to +the end, and then must come up and say good-morning. She picked up her +flower-basket and went that way, and with due surprise and pleasure, +Michael looked up from his <span><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a></span>paper at exactly the right moment and caught +sight of her.</p> + +<p>He came toward her with just the proper amount of haste and raised his +straw hat in a gay good-morning.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a divine day," he said. "I had to come out and read the +papers—and the courtyard looked so dull and I did not know where else +to go—it is luck finding you here!"</p> + +<p>"I always come into the garden in the morning when it is fine—I know +every plant and they are all my friends." Then to hide the pleasurable +excitement she was feeling, she bent down and picked a bit of lavender.</p> + +<p>"I love that smell—won't you give me some, too?" he pleaded—and she +handed him a sprig which he fixed in his white coat. "You have made the +most enchanting place of this," he next told her. "Can't we go up and +sit in that summer-house while you tell me how you began? Henry said all +this was a ruin when you bought it some years ago—it is extraordinarily +clever of you."</p> + +<p>Not the slightest embarrassment was in his manner, not the smallest look +of extra meaning in his eyes; he was simply a guest and she a hostess, +out together in the sunlight. A sense of unreality stole over Sabine. It +could not be all true—it was just some dream—a little more vivid, that +was all, than those which used to come to her of him sometimes +during—that year. She almost felt that she would like to put out her +hand and <span><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a></span>touch him to see if he were tangible or a thing of illusion as +she led the way to the turret summer-house.</p> + +<p>The wall which protected the garden from the sea was very high and this +little tower had been in the original fortifications and had been +cleverly adapted to its present use. It was open, with glass which slid +back on the southern side, and its great windows looked out over the +blue waters and granite rocks on the other. The little bay curved round +so that from there you got a three-quarter view of the château.</p> + +<p>Sabine put her basket down, and climbing up the wooden step she seated +herself upon the high window-seat, her feet dangling while she opened +the casement wide. Michael stood beside her leaning upon the sill—so +that she was slightly above him.</p> + +<p>"What a glorious view!" he exclaimed; "it is certainly a perfect spot. +Why, it has everything! The sea and its waves to dash up at it—and then +this lovely garden for shelter and peace. What a fortunate young woman +you are!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, am I not?"</p> + +<p>"I have an old castle, too—perhaps Henry has told you about it. We have +owned it ever since Adam, I suppose!" and he laughed. "The grim part of +this is rather like it in a way; I mean the stone passages and huge +rooms—but of course the architecture is different. It has been the +scene of every sort of fight. I should like to show it to you some day."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a></span>Stupefaction rose in Sabine's mind. After all, had she been mistaken, +and had he really not recognized her?—or had her acting of the night +before convinced him that his first ideas must be wrong and that she was +really not his wife! Excitement thrilled her. But if he was playing a +part, she then must certainly play, too, and not speak to him about the +divorce until he spoke to her. Thus they were unconsciously the one set +against the other and both determined that the other should show first +hand. It looked as though the interests of Lord Fordyce might be somehow +forgotten!</p> + +<p>They talked thus for half an hour, Michael asking questions about +Héronac with polite interest and without ever saying a sentence with a +double meaning, and she replying with frank information, and both +burning with excitement and zest. Then her great charm began to affect +him so profoundly that unconsciously something of eagerness and emotion +crept into his voice. It was one of those voices full of extraordinarily +attractive cadences at any time, and made for the seducing of a woman's +ear. Sabine knew that she was enjoying herself with a wild kind of +forbidden joy—but she did not analyze its cause. It could not be mean +to Henry just to talk about Héronac when she was not by word or look +deliberately trying to fascinate his friend—she was only being +naturally polite and casual.</p> + +<p>"Arranstoun only wants the sea," Michael said at last, "and then it +would be as perfect as this. I have <span><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a></span>a big, old sitting-room, too, that +was once part of a great hall, and my bedroom is the other half—a suite +all to myself—but I have not been there for five years—I am going back +from here."</p> + +<p>"How strange to be away from your home for so long," Sabine remarked +innocently. "Where have you been?"</p> + +<p>Then he told her all about China and Tibet.</p> + +<p>"I had taken some kind of distaste for Arranstoun and shirked going +there—I shall have to face it now, I suppose, because it is such hard +luck on the people when an owner is away, and so one must come up to the +scratch."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she agreed, "one must always do that."</p> + +<p>"I used to think out a lot of things when I was in the wilds—and I grew +to know that one is a great fool when young—and a great brute."</p> + +<p>She began to pull her lavender to pieces—this conversation was growing +too dangerously fascinating and must be stopped at once.</p> + +<p>"It is getting nearly breakfast-time," she said gaily, "and I just want +to pick a big bunch of sweet peas before the sun gets on them, won't you +help me?—and then we will go in."</p> + +<p>She slid to the floor before he could put out a hand to assist her, and +with her swift, graceful movements led the way to the tall sticks where +the last of the summer sweet peas grew.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a></span>Here she handed him the basket and told him to work hard—and all the +while she chattered of the ways of these flowers, and the trouble she +had had to make them grow there, and would not once let the conversation +upon this subject flag.</p> + +<p>"Some day when I live in England, I suppose I can have a lovely garden +there—it is famous for gardens, isn't it? I take in <i>Country Life</i> and +try to learn from it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, and grew stiff. The sudden picture of her living in +England—with Henry—came to him as an ugly shock.</p> + +<p>"Before you settle down in England, I would like you to see +Arranstoun,—please promise me to come and stay there before you do? I +will have a party whenever you like. I would love to show it to +you—every part of it—especially the chapel—it is full of wonderful +things!"</p> + +<p>If she chose to give him reminders of aspects which hurt, he would do +the same!</p> + +<p>"It sounds most interesting," she agreed, but had not the courage to +make any remarks about the chapel or ask what it contained.</p> + +<p>The clock over the gateway struck twelve—and she laughingly started to +walk very fast toward the house.</p> + +<p>"Madame Imogen and Lord Fordyce will be ravenous—come, let us go +quickly—I can even run!"</p> + +<p>So they strode on together with the radiant faces of <span><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a></span>those exalted by +an exciting game, on the way passing Père Anselme.</p> + +<p>And in the cool tapestried antechamber of the <i>salle-à-manger</i>, they +found Henry looking from the window a little wistfully, and a pang of +self-reproach struck both their hearts.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> +<span class="smcap">ll</span> through breakfast, Sabine devoted herself sedulously to Lord +Fordyce—and this produced two results. It sent Henry into a seventh +heaven and caused Michael to burn with jealous rage. Primitive instincts +were a good deal taking possession of him—and he found it extremely +difficult to keep up his rôle of disinterested friend. It must be +admitted he was in really a very difficult position for any man, and it +is not very easy to decide what he ought to have done short of telling +Henry the truth at once—but this he found grew every moment more hard +to do. It would mean that he would have to leave Héronac immediately. In +any case, he must do this directly. Sabine admitted, even to him, that +she was his wife. They could not together agree to leave Henry in +ignorance, that would be deliberately deceiving, and would make them +both feel too mean. But while nothing was even tacitly confessed, there +seemed some straw for his honor to grasp; he clutched at it knowing its +flimsy nature. He had given himself until the next day and now refused +to look beyond that. Every moment Sabine was <span><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a></span>attracting him more +deeply—and bringing certain memories more vividly before him with +maddening tantalization.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>But did she love Henry? Of that he could not be sure. If she did, he +certainly must divorce her at once. If she did not—why was she wishing +to marry him? Henry was an awfully good fellow, far better than he—but +after all, she was his wife—even though he had forfeited all right to +call her so, and if she did not love Henry, no friendship toward him +ought to be allowed to stand in the way of their reunion. It is +astonishing how civilization controls nature! If we put as much force +into the controlling of our own thoughts as we put into acting up to a +standard of public behavior, what wonderful creatures we should become!</p> + +<p>Here were these two human beings—young and strong and full of passion, +playing each a part with an art as great as any displayed at the Comédie +Française! And all for reasons suggested by civilization!—when nature +would have solved the difficulty in the twinkling of an eye!</p> + +<p>Michael spent a breakfast hour in purgatory. It was plain to be seen +that Henry expected him to show some desire to go fishing, or to want +some other sport which required solitude, or only the company of Madame +Imogen—and his afternoon looked as if it were not going to be a thing +of joy. The result of civilization then made him say:</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a></span>"May I take out that boat I saw in the little harbor after breakfast, +Mrs. Howard? I must have some real exercise. Two days in a motor is too +much."</p> + +<p>And his hostess graciously accorded him a permission, while her heart +sank—at least she experienced that unpleasant physical sensation of +heaviness somewhere in the diaphragm which poets have christened +heart-sinking! She knew it was quite the right thing for him to have +done,—and yet she wished fervently that they could have spent another +hour like the one in the turret summer-house.</p> + +<p>Henry was radiant—and as Michael went off through the postern and down +to the little harbor where the boats lay, he asked in fine language what +were his beloved's wishes for the afternoon?</p> + +<p>Sabine felt pettish, she wanted to snap out that she did not care a +single sou what they did, but she controlled herself and answered +sweetly that she would take him all over the château and ask his opinion +and advice about some further improvements she meant to make.</p> + +<p>They strolled first to the crenellated wall of the courtyard along which +there was a high walk from which you looked down upon the boat-house and +the little jetty—this wall made the fourth side of the courtyard, and +with the gate tower, and the concierge's tower across the causeway, and +part of the garden elevation, was the very oldest of the whole château, +and dated from early feudal times.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a></span>They leaned upon the stone and looked down at the sea.</p> + +<p>"There are only a very few days in the year that Minne-ha-ha ever comes +out of her shed," Sabine told him, pointing to the boat-house. "You +cannot imagine what the wind is here—even now it may get up in a few +moments on this glassy sea, or thunder may come—and in the autumn the +storms are too glorious. I sit at one of the big windows in my +sitting-room and watch the waves for hours; they break on the rocks +which stretch out from the tower, which is my bedroom on the Finisterre +side, and they rise mountain-high; it is a most splendid sight. We are, +as it were, in the midst of a cauldron of boiling foam. It exalts and +vitalizes me more than I can tell you. I wish it had been the autumn +now."</p> + +<p>"I don't," he said. "I much prefer the summer and peace. I want to take +away all that desire for fierce things, dearest—they were the echoes of +those dark thoughts and shadows which used to be in your eyes at +Carlsbad."</p> + +<p>"Ah, if you could!" she sighed.</p> + +<p>It was the first time he had ever seen her moved—and it distressed him.</p> + +<p>"Do you not think that I can, then?" he asked, tenderly. "It is the only +thing I really want in life—to make you happy."</p> + +<p>"How good you are, Henry!" she cried; "so noble and unselfish and true; +you frighten me. I am just a <span><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a></span>creature of earth—full of things you may +not like when you know me better. I am sure I think of myself more than +any one else—you make me—ashamed."</p> + +<p>He took her hand and kissed it, while his fine gray eyes melted in +worship.</p> + +<p>"I will not even listen when you say such things—for me you are +perfect—a pearl of great price."</p> + +<p>"I must try to be, but I am not," and her voice trembled a little. "I +believe I am as full of faults and life as your friend there—Mr. +Arranstoun, who I am sure is just a selfish, reckless man!"</p> + +<p>Michael at this moment reached the boat-house with old Berthe's son, who +began to help him to untie the one he wanted. He looked the most +splendid creature there in his white flannels—and he turned and waved +to them and then got in and pulled out a few yards with long, easy +strokes.</p> + +<p>"Michael is a character," his friend said. "He has been spoilt all his +life by women—and fortune. He has a most strange story. He married a +girl about five years ago just to make himself safe from another woman +whom he had been making love to. I was awfully angry with him at the +time—I was staying in the house and I refused to wait for the wedding. +I thought it such a shame to the girl, although it was merely an empty +ceremony—but she was awfully young, I believe."</p> + +<p>"How interesting!" and Sabine's voice was strained. "You saw the +girl—what was she like?"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a></span>"No, I never saw her—it was all settled one afternoon when I was +out—and I thought it such a thundering shame that I left that same +night."</p> + +<p>"And if you had stayed—you would have met her—how curious fate is +sometimes—isn't it? Perhaps you could have prevented your friend being +so foolish—if you had stayed."</p> + +<p>"No, nothing in the world would ever prevent Michael from doing what he +wanted to—it is in the blood of all those old border families—heredity +again—they flourished by imposing their wills recklessly and snatching +and fighting, and who ever survived was a strong man. It has come down +to them in force and vigor and daring unto this day."</p> + +<p>"But what happened about the marriage?" Sabine asked. "It interests me +so much; it sounds so romantic at this matter-of-fact time."</p> + +<p>"Nothing happened, except that they went through the ceremony and the +girl left at once that same night, I believe, and Michael has never seen +or heard of her since—he tells me the time is up now when he can +divorce her for desertion, according to Scotch law—and I fancy he will. +It is a ridiculous position for them both. He does not even know if she +has not preferred some one else by now."</p> + +<p>"Surely she would have given some sign if she had—but perhaps he does +not care."</p> + +<p>"Not much. I fancy he amused himself a good deal <span><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a></span>at Ostende—" and +Henry smiled. "He has been away in the wilds for five years and +naturally has come back full of zest for civilization."</p> + +<p>Sabine's full lips curled, and she looked at the sea again, and the +figure in the boat rapidly pulling away from the shore.</p> + +<p>"If he chose to leave her alone all these years, he could not expect +anything else, could he, than that she would have grown to care for +another man."</p> + +<p>"No, that is what I told him—and he said he was a dog in the manger."</p> + +<p>"He did not want her himself, and yet did not wish to give her to any +one else—how disgustingly selfish!"</p> + +<p>"Men are proverbially selfish," and Henry smiled again; "it is the +nature of the creatures."</p> + +<p>The violet eyes were glowing as stars might glow could they be +angry—and their owner turned away from the sea with a fine shrug of her +shoulders—her thoughts were raging. So that is how Michael looked upon +the <i>affaire</i>! He was just the dog in the manger, and she was the hay! +But never, never would she submit to that! She would speak to him when +he came in and ask him to divorce her at once. Why should Henry ever +know?—even if Scotch divorces were reported she would appear, not as +Mrs. Howard, but as Mrs. Arranstoun,—then a discouraging thought +came—only Sabine was such an uncommon name—if it were not for that he +might never guess. But whether Henry ever <span><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a></span>knew or did not know, the +sooner she were free the better, and then she would marry him and adorn +his great position in the world—and Michael would see her there, and +how well she fulfilled her duties—so even yet she would be able to +punish him as he deserved! Hay! Indeed! Never, never, never!</p> + +<p>Then she knew she must have been answering at random some of Lord +Fordyce's remarks, for a rather puzzled look was on his face.</p> + +<p>A strong revulsion of feeling came to her. Henry suddenly appeared in +his best guise—and a wave of tenderness for him swept over her. How +kind and courteous and devoted he was—treating her always as his queen. +She could be sure of homage here—and that far from being hay; she would +be the most valued jewel in his crown of success. She would rise into +spheres where she would be above the paltry emotions caused by a hateful +man just because he had "it"!</p> + +<p>So she gave her hand to Henry in a burst of exuberance and let him place +it in his arm, and then lead her back into the château and through all +the rooms, where they discussed blues and greens and stuffs and +furniture and the lowering of this doorway and the heightening of that, +and at last they drifted to the garden and to the lavender hedge—but +she would not take him into the summer-house or again look out on the +sea.</p> + +<p>All through her sweetness there was a note of un<span><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a></span>rest—and Henry's fine +senses told him so—and this left the one drop of bitterness in his +otherwise blissful cup.</p> + +<p>Michael meanwhile was expending his energy and his passion in swift +movement in the boat—but after a while he rested on his oars and then +he began to think.</p> + +<p>There was no use in going on with the game after all—he ought to go +away at once. If he stayed and saw her any more he would not be able to +leave her at all. He knew he would only break his promise to Henry—tell +Sabine that he had fallen madly in love with her—implore her again to +forgive him for everything in the past and let them begin afresh. But he +was faced with the horrible thought of the anguish to Henry—Henry, his +old friend, who trusted him and who was ten times more worthy of this +dear woman than he was himself.</p> + +<p>He had never been so full of impotency and misery in his life—not even +on that morning in June when he woke and found Sabine had left +him—defied him and gone—after everything. Pure rage had come to his +aid then—but now he had only remorse and longing—and anger with fate.</p> + +<p>"It must all depend upon whether or no she loves Henry," he said to +himself at last—"and this I will make her tell me this very afternoon."</p> + +<p>But when he got back and went into the garden he happened to witness a +scene.</p> + +<p>Sabine—overcome by Lord Fordyce's goodness, had let him hold her arm +while her head was perilously near <span><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a></span>to his shoulder. It all looked very +intimate and lover-like when seen from afar. The greatest pain Michael +Arranstoun had ever experienced came into his heart, and without waiting +a second he turned on his heel and went back to the house. Here he had a +bath and changed his clothes, while his servant packed, and then, with +the help of Madame Imogen, he looked up a train. Yes, there was a fast +one which went to Paris from their nearest little town—he could just +catch it by ordering Henry's motor—this he promptly did—and leaving +the best excuses he could invent with Madame Imogen, he got in and +departed a few minutes before his hostess and Lord Fordyce came back to +tea at five.</p> + +<p>He had written a short note to Sabine—which Nicholas handed to her.</p> + +<p>She opened it with trembling fingers; this was all it was:</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +<p>I understand—and I will get the divorce as soon as the law will +allow, and I will try to arrange that Henry need never know. I +would like you just to have come to Arranstoun once more—perhaps I +can persuade Henry to bring you there in the autumn.</p> + +<p class="smcap" style="text-align: right;">Michael Arranstoun.</p> +</div> + +<p class="padtop">It was as well that Lord Fordyce had gone up to his room—for the lady +of Héronac grew white as death for a moment, and then crumpling the note +in her hand she staggered up the old stone stairs to her great +sitting-room.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a></span>So he had gone then—and they could have no explanation. But he had +come out of the manger—and was going to let the other animal eat the +hay.</p> + +<p>This, however, was very poor comfort and brought no consolation on its +wings. Civilization again won the game.</p> + +<p>For she had to listen unconcernedly to Madame Imogen's voluble +description of Michael's leaving—pressing business which he had +mistaken the date about—finally she had to pour out tea and smile +happily at Henry and Père Anselme.</p> + +<p>But when she was at last alone, she flung herself down by the window +seat and shook all over with sobs.</p> + +<p>Michael's note to Henry was characteristic:</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +<p>I'm bored, my dear Henry—the picture of your bliss is not +inspiriting—so I am off to Paris and thence home. I hope you'll +think I behaved all right and played the game.</p> + +<p>Took your motor to catch train.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em;">Yrs.,</p> +<p style="text-align: right;">M. A.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span> +<span class="smcap">he</span> Père Anselme was uneasy. Very little escaped his observation, and he +saw at tea that his much loved Dame d'Héronac was not herself. She had +not been herself the night before at dinner either—there was more in +the coming of these two Englishmen than met the eye. He had seen her +with Michael in the morning in the summer-house from a corner of the +garden, too, where he was having a heated argument with the gardener in +chief, as well as when he met them on the causeway bridge. He felt it +his duty to do something to smooth matters, but what he could not +decide. Perhaps she would tell him about it on the morrow, when he met +her as was his custom on days that were not saints' days interfered with +by mass.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>"I shall be at the gate at nine o'clock, <i>ma fille</i>," he said, when he +wished her good-day. "With your permission, we must decide about the +clematis trellis for the north wall without delay."</p> + +<p>Henry accompanied the old man on his walk back to the village—and they +conversed in cultivated and <span><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a></span>stilted French of philosophy and of Breton +fisher-folk, and of the strange, melancholy type they seemed to have.</p> + +<p>"They look ever out to sea," the priest said; "they are watching the +deep waters and are conscious forever of their own and loved ones' +dangers—they are <i>de braves gens</i>."</p> + +<p>"It seems so wonderful that anything so young and full of life as Mrs. +Howard should have been drawn to live in such an isolated place, does it +not, <i>mon père</i>?" Henry asked. "It seems incongruous."</p> + +<p>"When she came first she was very sad. She had cause for much sorrow, +the dear child—and the sea was her mate; together she and I, with the +sea, have studied many things. She deserves happiness, Monsieur, her +soul is as pure and as generous as an angel's—if Monsieur knew what she +does for my poor people and for all who come under her care!"</p> + +<p>"It will be the endeavor of my life to make her happy, Father," and Lord +Fordyce's voice was full of feeling.</p> + +<p>"Happiness can only be secured in two ways, my son. Either it comes in +the guise of peace, after the flames have burnt themselves out—or it +comes through fusion of love at fever heat——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Henry faltered, rather anxiously.</p> + +<p>"When there are still some cinders alight—the peaceful happiness is not +quite certain of fulfil<span><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a></span>ment; it becomes an experiment then with some +risks."</p> + +<p>"What makes you say this to me?"</p> + +<p>The old priest did not look at him, but continued to gaze ahead.</p> + +<p>"I have the welfare of our Dame d'Héronac very strongly at heart, +Monsieur, as you can guess, and I am not altogether sure that the +cinders are not still red. It would be well for you to ascertain whether +this be so or not before you ask her to make fresh bonds."</p> + +<p>"You think she still cares for her husband, then?" Henry was very pale.</p> + +<p>"I do not know that she ever cared—but I do know that even his memory +has power to disturb her. He must have been just such another as your +friend, the Seigneur of Arranstoun. It is his presence which has +reminded her of something of the past, since it cannot be he himself."</p> + +<p>"No, of course it cannot be Michael—" and Henry laughed shortly. "He is +an Englishman. She had never seen him before yesterday—You think she +seems disturbed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What would you have me do, then, Father? I love this woman more than my +life and only desire her happiness."</p> + +<p>The Curé of Héronac shrugged his high shoulders slightly.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a></span>"It is not for me to give advice to a man of the world—but had it been +in the days when I was Gaston d'Héronac, of the Imperial Guard, I should +have told you—Use your intelligence, search, investigate for yourself. +Make her love you—leave nothing vague or to chance. As a priest, I must +say that I find all divorces wrong—and that for me she should remain +the wife of the other man."</p> + +<p>"Even when the man is a drunkard or a lunatic, and there have been no +children?" Henry demanded.</p> + +<p>A strange look came in the old Curé's eye as he glanced at his companion +covertly, and for a second it seemed as though he meant to speak his +thought—but the only words which came were in Latin:</p> + +<p>"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," and then +he held out his thin, brown hand; they had reached his door.</p> + +<p>"In all cases you have my good wishes, my son, for you seem worthy of +her—my good wishes and my prayers."</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce mounted the stairs to his lady's sitting-room with lagging +steps. The Père Anselme's advice had caused him to think deeply, and it +was necessary that he had speech with Sabine, if she would let him come +back into her sitting-room. He knocked at the door softly, as was his +way, and when her voice said "<i>Entrez</i>" rather impatiently he did enter +and advance with diffidence. She was sitting with her back to <span><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a></span>the light +in one of the great window embrasures, so that he could not see the +expression upon her face—and her tone became gentle as she welcomed +him.</p> + +<p>"The evening is so glorious, come and watch the sunset; but there is a +little look of thunder there in the far west—to-morrow we may have a +storm."</p> + +<p>Henry sat down beside her on the orange velvet seat—and his eyes, full +of love and tenderness, sought her face beseechingly.</p> + +<p>"I shall simply hate going the day after to-morrow, dearest," he said. +"If it were not for the sternest duty to my mother, I would ask you to +keep me until Friday—it will be such pain to tear myself away."</p> + +<p>"You have been dear," she answered very low. "You have shown me what +real love in a man means—what tenderness and courtesy can make of life. +Henry—however wayward I may be, you will bear with me, will you not? I +want to be good and happy—" Her sweet voice, with its faintly French +accent, was full of pathos as a child's might be who is asking for +comfort and sympathy for some threatened hurt. "Oh! I want to be in the +sure shelter of your love always, so that storms like that one coming up +over there cannot touch me. I want you to make me forget—everything."</p> + +<p>He was so deeply moved, tears sprang to his eyes—as he bent and kissed +her hands with reverence.</p> + +<p>"My darling—you shall indeed be worshipped and protected and kept from +all clouds—only first tell me,<span><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a></span> Sabine, straight from your heart, do +you really and truly desire to marry me? I do not ask you to tell me +that you love me yet, because I know that you do not—but I want to know +the truth. If you have a single doubt whether it is for your happiness, +tell it to me—let there be no uncertainties between us—my dear +love——"</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment, while his tenderness seemed to be pouring +balm upon her troubled spirit.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he cried, fearing her silence. "Sabine, speak to me—I will +not hold you for a second if you would rather be free—if you think I +cannot chase all sad memories away."</p> + +<p>She put out her hand and touched his arm.</p> + +<p>"If you will be content to take me, knowing that I have things to +forget—and if you will help me to forget them, then I know that I want +to marry you, Henry—just as to-night perhaps that little sail we see +out there will long to get in to a safe port."</p> + +<p>He gave her his promise—with passionately loving words, that he would +protect and adore her always, and soothe and cherish her until all +haunting memories were gone.</p> + +<p>And for the first time since they had known one another, Sabine let him +fold her in his arms.</p> + +<p>But the lips which he pressed so fondly were cold, like death—and +afterwards she went quickly to her room.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a></span>The die was irrevocably cast—she could never go back now; she was as +firmly bound to Henry as if she had been already his wife.</p> + +<p>For her nature was tender and honest and true—and Lord Fordyce had +touched the highest chord in it, the chord of her soul.</p> + +<p>But, as she stood looking from the narrow, deep casement up at the +evening sky, suddenly, with terrible vividness, there came back to her +mental vision the chapel at Arranstoun upon her wedding night, with its +gorgeous splendors and the candles and the lilies and their strong +scent, and it was as if she could feel Michael's kiss when the old +clergyman's words were done.</p> + +<p>She started forward with a little moan, and put her hands over her eyes. +Then her will reasserted itself, and her firm lips closed tight.</p> + +<p>Nothing should make her waver or alter her mind now—and these +phantasies should be ruthlessly stamped out.</p> + +<p>She sat down in an armchair, and forced herself to picture her life with +Henry. It would be full of such great and interesting things, and he +would be there to guide and protect her always and keep her from all +regrets.</p> + +<p>So presently she grew calm and comforted, and by the time she was +dressed for dinner, she was even bright and gay, and made a most sweet +and gracious mistress <span><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a></span>of Héronac and of the heart of Henry Fordyce. +Just as they were leaving the dining-room, Nicholas brought her a +message from Père Anselme, to the effect that a very bad storm was +coming up, and she must be sure to have the great iron shutters inside +the lower dungeon windows securely closed. He had already told Berthe's +son to take in the little boat.</p> + +<p>And as they crossed the connecting passage, Madame Imogen gave a scream, +for a vivid flash of lightning came in through the open +windows—followed by a terrific crash of thunder, and when they reached +the sitting-room the storm had indeed come.</p> + +<p>It was past midnight when Michael reached Paris, and, going in to the +Ritz, met Miss Daisy Van der Horn and a number of other friends just +leaving after a merry dinner in a private room. They greeted him with +fervor. Where had he been? And would not he dress quickly and come on to +supper with them?</p> + +<p>"Why, you look as glum as an owl, Michael Arranstoun!" Miss Van der Horn +herself informed him. "Just you hustle and put on your evening things, +and we'll make you feel a new man."</p> + +<p>And with the most supreme insolence, before them all he bent down and +kissed both her hands—while his blue eyes blazed with devilment as he +answered:</p> + +<p>"I will join you in half an hour—but if you pull me out of bed like +this, you will have to make a night of it with me. You shan't go home at +all!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> +<span class="smcap">whole</span> month went by, and after the storm peace seemed to cover +Héronac. Sabine gardened with Père Anselme, and listened to his kindly, +shrewd common sense, and then they read poetry in the afternoons when +tea was over. They read Béranger, François Villon, Victor Hugo, and +every now and then they even dashed into de Musset!<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>The good Father felt more easy in his mind. After all, his impressions +of Lord Fordyce's character had been very high, and he was not apt to +make mistakes in people—perhaps le bon Dieu meant to make an exception +in favor of the beloved Dame d'Héronac, and to find divorce a good +thing! Sabine had heard from Mr. Parsons that the negotiations had +commenced. It would be some time, though, before she could be free. She +must formally refuse to return when the demand asking her to do so +should come. This she was prepared to carry out. She firmly and +determinedly banished all thought of Michael from her mind, and hardly +ever went into the garden summer-house—because, when she did, she saw +him too plainly standing there in his white <span><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a></span>flannels, with the sprig of +her lavender in his coat and his bold blue eyes looking up at her with +their horribly powerful charm. The force of will can do such wonders +that, as the days went on, the pain and unrest of her hours lessened in +a great degree.</p> + +<p>Every morning there came an adoring letter from Henry, in which he never +said too much or too little, but everything that could excite her +cultivated intelligence and refresh her soul. In all the after years of +her life, whatever might befall her, these letters of Henry's would have +a lasting influence upon her. They polished and moulded her taste; and +put her on her mettle to answer them, and gradually they grew to be an +absorbing interest. He selected the books she was to read, and sent her +boxes of them. It had been agreed before he left that he would not +return to Héronac for some time; but that in late October, when the +Princess and Mr. Cloudwater got back to Paris, that if they could be +persuaded to come to London, Sabine would accompany them, and make the +acquaintance of Henry's mother and some of his family—who would be in +ignorance of there being any tie between them, and the whole thing could +be done casually and with good sense.</p> + +<p>"I want my mother and my sisters to love you, darling," Henry wrote, +"without a prejudiced eye. My mother would find you perfect, whatever +you were like, if she knew that you were my choice—and for the same +<span><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a></span>reason my sisters would perhaps find fault with you; so I want you to +make their conquest without any handicap."</p> + +<p>Sabine, writing one of her long letters to Moravia in Italy, said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +I am very happy, Morri. This calm Englishman is teaching me such a +number of new aspects of life, and making me more determined than +ever to be a very great lady in the future. We are so clever in our +nation, and all the young vitality in us is so splendid, when it is +directed and does not turn to nerves and fads. I am growing so much +<i>finer</i>, my dear, under his guidance. You will know me when we +meet—because each day I grow more to understand. +</div> + +<p class="padtop">The Père Anselme had only one moment of doubt again, just the last +morning before his Dame d'Héronac left for Paris when October had come. +It was raining hard, and he found her in the great sitting-room with a +legal-looking document in her hand. Her face was very pale, and lying on +the writing-table beside her was an envelope directed and stamped.</p> + +<p>It contained her refusal to return to her husband signed and sealed.</p> + +<p>The old priest did not ask her any questions; he guessed, and +sympathized.</p> + +<p>But his lady was too restless to begin their reading, and stole from +window to window looking out on the gray sea.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a></span>"I shall come here for six months in the year just as always, Father," +she said at last. "I can never sever myself from Héronac."</p> + +<p>"God forbid," exclaimed the priest, aghast. "If you left us, the sun no +more would seem to shine."</p> + +<p>"And sometimes I will come—alone—because there will be times, my +Father, when I shall want to fight things out—alone."</p> + +<p>The Père Anselme took some steps nearer her, and after a moment said, in +a grave voice:</p> + +<p>"Remember always, my daughter, that le bon Dieu settles things for us +mortals if we leave it all to Him—but if we take the helm in the +direction of our own affairs, it may be He will let circumstance draw us +into rough waters. In that case, the only thing for us is to be true to +our word and to our own souls—and to use common sense."</p> + +<p>Sabine looked at him with somber, startled eyes.</p> + +<p>"You mean, that I decided to help myself, Father—about the divorce—and +that now I must look only to myself—It is a terrible thought."</p> + +<p>"You are strong, my child; it may be that you were directed from above, +I cannot say," and he shrugged his shoulders gently. "Only that the good +God is always merciful. What you must be is true to yourself. <i>Pax +vobiscum</i>," and he placed his hand upon her head.</p> + +<p>But, for once, Sabine lost control of her emotions <span><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></span>and, bursting into a +passion of tears, she rushed from the room.</p> + +<p>"Alas! all is well?" said the priest, half aloud, and then he knelt by +the window and prayed fervently—without telling his beads.</p> + +<p>But, at breakfast, Sabine's eyes were dry again, and she seemed quite +calm. She, too, had held communion with herself, and her will had once +more resumed the mastery. This should be the last exhibition of +weakness—and the last feeling of weakness; and as she would suppress +the outward signs, so she would crush the inner emotion. All life looked +smiling. She was young, healthy and rich. She had inspired the devoted +love of a good and great man, whose position would give scope for her +ambitions, whose intellect was a source of pleasure and joy to her, and +whose tenderness would smooth all her path. What right had she to have +even a crumpled rose leaf! None in the world.</p> + +<p>She must get accustomed even to hearing of Michael, and perhaps to +meeting him again face to face, since Henry was never to know—or, at +least, not for years perhaps, when she had been so long happily married +that the knowledge would create no jar. And at all events, he need not +know—of the afterwards—that should remain forever locked in her heart. +Then she resolutely turned to lighter thoughts—her clothes in Paris, +the pleasure to see Moravia again—the excite<span><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a></span>ment of her trip to +London, where she had never been, except to pass through that once long +ago.</p> + +<p>The Père Anselme came to the station with her, and as he closed the door +of the reserved carriage she was in, he said:</p> + +<p>"Blessings be upon your head, my child. And, whatever comes, may the +good God direct you into peace."</p> + +<p>Then he turned upon his heel, his black eyes dim—for the autumn months +would be long with only Madame Imogen for companion, beside his +flock—and the sea.</p> + +<p>Michael had got back from Paris utterly disgusted with life, sick with +himself. Bitterly resentful against fate for creating such a tangled +skein, and dangling happiness in front of him only to snatch it away +again. He went up to Arranstoun and tried to play his part in the +rejoicings at his return. He opened the house, engaged a full staff of +servants, and filled it with guests. He shot with frantic eagerness for +one week, and then with indifference the next. Whatever he may have done +wrong in his life, his punishment had come. He had naturally an iron +will, and when he began to use it to calm his emotions, a better state +of things might set in, but for the time being he was just drifting, and +sorrow was his friend.</p> + +<p>His suite at Arranstoun—which he had never seen since the day after his +wedding, having gone up to Lon<span><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a></span>don that very next night, and from there +made all his arrangements for the China trip—gave him a shock—he who +had nerves of steel—and into the chapel he loathed to go. His one +consolation was that Binko, now seven years old, had not transferred his +affection to Alexander Armstrong, with whom he had spent the time; but +after an hour or two had rapturously appeared to remember his master, +and now never, if he could help it, left his side.</p> + +<p>Michael took to reading books—no habit of his youth!—although his +shrewd mind had not left him in the usual plight of blank ignorance, +which is often the portion of a splendid, young athlete leaving Eton! +But now he studied subjects seriously, and the whys and wherefores of +things; and he grew rather to enjoy the evenings alone, between the +goings and comings of his parties, when, buried in a huge chair before +his log fire, with only Binko's snorts for company, he could pore over +some volume of interest. He studied his family records, too, getting all +sorts of interesting documents out of his muniment room.</p> + +<p>What a fierce, brutal lot they had always been! No wonder the chapel had +to be so gloriously filled—and then there came to his memory the one +little window which was still plain, and how he had told Sabine that he +supposed it had been left for him to garnish—as an expiatory +offering—the race being so full of rapine and sin!</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a></span>Should he put the gorgeous glass in now—it was time. But a glass +window could not prevent the punishment—since it had already fallen +upon him, nor even alleviate the suffering.</p> + +<p>He was staring straight in front of him at the picture of Mary, Queen of +Scots', landing—it had been painted at about 1850, when romantic +subjects of that sort were in vogue, and "the fellow in the blue +doublet" was said, by the artist, to represent the celebrated Arranstoun +of that time. The one who had killed a Moreton and stolen his wife. No +doubt that is why his grandfather had bought it. He thought it looked +very well over the secret door, and then he deliberately let himself +picture how it had once fallen forward, and all the circumstances which +had followed in consequence. He reconstructed every word he could +remember of his and Sabine's conversation that afternoon. He repictured +her innocent baby face—and from there on to the night of the wedding. +He reviewed all his emotions in the chapel, and the strange exaltation +which was upon him then—and the mad fire which awoke in his blood with +his first kiss or of her fresh young lips when the vows were said. Every +minute incident was burned into his memory until the cutting of the +cake—after that it seemed to be a chaos of wild passion, and moments of +extraordinary bliss. He suddenly could almost see her little head there +unresisting on his breast, all tears and terror at last hushed to rest +by his fond <span><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a></span>caresses—and then he started from his seat—the memory was +too terribly sweet.</p> + +<p>He had, of course, been the most frightful brute. Nothing could alter or +redeem that fact; but when sleep came to them at length he had believed +that he had made her forgive him, and that he could teach her to love +him and have no regrets. Then the agony to wake and find her gone!</p> + +<p>What made her go after all? How had she slipped from his arms without +awakening him? If he had only heard her when she was stealing from the +room, he could have reasoned with her, and even have again caught her +and kissed her into obedience—but he had slept on.</p> + +<p>He remembered all his emotions—rage at her daring to cross his will to +begin with, and then the deep wound to his self-love. That is what had +made him write the hard letter which forever put an end to their +reunion.</p> + +<p>"What a paltry, miserable, arrogant wretch I was then," he thought—"and +how pitifully uncontrolled."</p> + +<p>But all was now too late.</p> + +<p>The next morning's post brought him a letter from Henry Fordyce, in +which he told him he had been meaning to write to him ever since he had +returned from France more than a month ago, but had been too occupied. +The whole epistle breathed ecstatic happiness. He was utterly absorbed +in his lady love, it was plain to be seen, and since his mind seemed so +peaceful and <span><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a></span>joyous, it was evident she must reciprocate. Well, Henry +was worthy of her—but this in no way healed the hurt. Michael violently +tore up the letter and bounded from his bed, passion boiling in him +again. He wanted to slay something; he almost wished his friend had been +an enemy that he could have gone out and fought with him and reseized +his bride. What matter that she should be unwilling—the Arranstoun +brides had often been unwilling. She had been unwilling before, and he +had crushed her resistance, and even made her eventually show him some +acquiescence and content. He could certainly do it again, and with more +chance of success, since she was a woman now and not a child, and would +better understand emotions of love.</p> + +<p>He stood there shaking with passion. What should he do? What step should +he take? Then Binko, who had emerged from his basket, gave a tiny +half-bark—he wanted to express his sympathy and excitement. If his +beloved master was transported with rage, it was evidently the moment +for him to show some feeling also, and to go and seize by the throat man +or beast who had caused this tumult.</p> + +<p>His round, faithful, adoring eyes were upturned, and every fat wrinkle +quivered with love and readiness to obey the smallest command, while he +snorted and slobbered with emotion. Something about him touched Michael, +and made him stoop and seize him in his arms <span><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a></span>and roll the solid mass on +the bed in rough, loving appreciation.</p> + +<p>"You understand, old man!" he cried fondly. "You'd go for Henry or +anyone—or hold her for me"—And then the passion died out of him, as +the dog licked his hand. "But we have been brutes once too often, Binko, +and now we'll have to pay the price. She belongs to Henry, who's behaved +like a gentleman—not to us any more."</p> + +<p>So he rang for his valet and went to his bath quietly, and thus ended +the storm of that day.</p> + +<p>And Henry Fordyce in London was awaiting the arrival of his +well-beloved, who, with the Princess and Mr. Cloudwater, was due to be +at the Ritz Hotel that evening, when they would dine all together and +spend a time of delight.</p> + +<p>And far away in Brittany, the Père Anselme read in his book of +meditations:</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +It is when the sky is clearest that the heaviest bolt falls—it +would be well for all good Christians to be on the alert. +</div> + +<p class="padtop">And chancing to look from his cottage window, he perceived that a heavy +rain cloud had gathered over the Château of Héronac.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> +<span class="smcap">n</span> the morning before they left Héronac, Sabine's elderly maid, Simone, +came to her with the face she always wore when her speech might contain +any reference to the past. She had been with Sabine ever since the week +after her marriage, and was a widow and a Parisian, with a kind and +motherly heart.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>"Will madame take the blue despatch-box with her as usual?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Sabine hesitated for a second. She had never gone anywhere without it in +all those five years—but now everything was changed. It might be wiser +to leave it safely at Héronac. Then her eyes fell upon it, and a slight +shudder came over her of the kind which people describe as "a goose +walking over your grave."</p> + +<p>No, she could not leave it behind.</p> + +<p>"I will take it, Simone."</p> + +<p>"As madame wishes," and the maid went on her way.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Sabine had reached London late on that evening in the June of 1907 +on her leaving Scotland she <span><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a></span>found, in response to the wire she had sent +him from Edinburgh, Mr. Parsons waiting for her at the station, his +astonishment as great as his perturbation.</p> + +<p>Her words had been few; her young mind had been firmly made up in the +train coming south. No one should ever know that there had been any +deviation from the original plan she had laid out for herself. With a +force of will marvellous in one of her tender years, she had controlled +her extreme emotion, and except that she looked very pale and seemed +very determined and quiet, there were no traces of the furnace through +which she had passed, in which had perished all her old conceptions of +existence, although as yet she realized nothing but that she wanted to +go away and to be free and forget her tremors, and presently join +Moravia.</p> + +<p>The marriage had been perfectly legal, as the certificate showed, and +Mr. Parsons, whatever his personal feelings about the matter were, knew +that he had not the smallest control over her—and was bound to hand +over to her her money to do with as she pleased.</p> + +<p>She merely told him the facts—that the marriage had been only an +arrangement to this end—Mr. Arranstoun having agreed before the +ceremony that this should be so—and that she wanted to engage a good +maid and go over to Paris as soon as possible, to see her friend the +Princess Torniloni.</p> + +<p>She had decided in the train that her methods with <span><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a></span>all who opposed her +must be as they used to be with Sister Jeanne—a statement of her +intentions, and then silence and no explanations. Sister Jeanne had +given up all argument with her in her last year at the convent!</p> + +<p>Mr. Parsons soon found that his words were falling upon deaf ears, and +were perfectly useless. She had cut herself adrift from her aunt and +uncle, whom she cordially disliked, leaving them a letter to tell them +that as she was now her own mistress, she never meant to trouble them or +Mr. Greenbank again, and she bid them adieu!</p> + +<p>"It is not as if they had ever been the least kind to me," she did +condescend to inform the lawyer. "They couldn't bear me really—Samuel, +although he was such a poor creature, was far the best of them. Uncle +was only wanting my money for him, and Aunt Jemima detested me, and only +had me with her because Papa left in his will that she had to, or lose +his legacy. You can't think what I've learned of their meannesses in the +month I've know them!"</p> + +<p>Thus Mr. Parsons had no further arguments to use—and felt that after +seeing her safe to his own hotel that night, and helping to engage a +suitable and responsible maid next day to travel with her, he could do +no more.</p> + +<p>The question of the name troubled him most, and he almost refused to +agree that she should be known as Mrs. Howard.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a></span>"But I have told Mr. Arranstoun that I mean to be only that!" Sabine +exclaimed, "and he didn't mind, and"—here her violet eyes flashed—"I +<i>will not</i> be anything else—so there!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Parsons shrugged his shoulders; she was impossible to deal with, and +as he himself was obliged to return to America in the following week, he +felt the only thing to do was to let her have her way. And so well did +he guard his client's secret then and afterwards, that even Simone, +though a shrewd Frenchwoman, had never known that her mistress' name was +not really Howard. At the time of her being engaged she was just leaving +an American lady from the far West whom Mr. Parsons knew of, and she was +delighted to come as maid and almost chaperon to this sweet, but wilful +young lady.</p> + +<p>So they had gone to Paris together, to order clothes—such a joyous +task—and to make herself forget those hours so terribly full of strange +emotion was all which occupied Sabine's mind at this period. Other +preoccupations came later; and it was then that she listened to Simone's +suggestion of going to San Francisco. The maid knew it well, and there +they spent several months in a quiet hotel. But they neither of them +cared much to remember those days, and nothing would have ever induced +Sabine to return thither.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>She thought of these things now, as Simone left the <span><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a></span>room with the blue +case, but she put from her all disturbing remembrances on her journey to +Paris, and rushed into Moravia's arms, who was waiting for her in her +palatial apartment in the Avenue du Bois; they really loved one another, +these two women, as few sisters do.</p> + +<p>"Sabine, you darling!" the Princess cried, while Girolamo, kept up an +hour later to welcome his god-mamma, screamed with joy.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me everything, everything, pet!" Moravia demanded, as she +poured out the tea. "Has the divorce been settled? How soon will you be +free? When can you get married to this nice Englishman?"</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly know, Morri—the law is such a strange thing; however, +my—husband—has agreed and begun to take the necessary steps by +requesting me to go back to him, which I have refused to do."</p> + +<p>"You are looking perfectly splendid, dear. Having all that brain +stimulation evidently suits you. Wasn't the visit of Lord Fordyce +delightful in that romantic old castle? What did you do all the time? +and what was the friend like?—you did not tell me."</p> + +<p>Sabine stirred her tea.</p> + +<p>"He only stayed one night—he was quite a nice creature—Mr. +Arranstoun."</p> + +<p>"Of the castle?" The Princess was thrilled. "Why, darling, he must be +the one that they say is going to marry Daisy Van der Horn. He has got +some mat<span><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a></span>rimonial tangle like you have, and when he is through with it, +Daisy is such dead nuts on him, they say she is certain to get him to +marry her! Do tell me exactly what he is like—I am not over fond of +Daisy, you know—but she is a splendid specimen of dash and vim."</p> + +<p>"He is good-looking, Morri—and he has got 'it.'"</p> + +<p>"I gathered that from all that I have heard of him here. Old Miss +Buskin, Daisy's aunt, you remember the old horror, says he is 'just too +sweet,' and 'that sassy'—you know her frightfully vulgar way of +speaking!—that even she is 'afraid to be alone in the room with him!'"</p> + +<p>"I dare say—he—looked like that—he ought to suit Daisy," and then +Sabine felt she had been spiteful and tried to divert matters by asking +where Mr. Cloudwater was.</p> + +<p>"Papa will be in in a moment. He has been dying for you to come back." +But the Princess had not done with Mr. Arranstoun yet. The Van der Horn +coterie had rung with his exploits on her return from Italy, and the +lurid picture had interested her deeply.</p> + +<p>"I do wish I had been at Héronac, Sabine, I would love to have seen that +young man. Daisy's aunt told me he was wild about her niece, and at one +moment she thought everything was settled—it must have been after he +came back from Brittany—and then he went off to England—probably he +does not like to speak out until he is free."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a></span>Sabine felt that strange sensation she had experienced once before, of +heart sinking—and then, furious with herself, she mastered it and +became more determined than ever to carry out her intention of growing +accustomed to hearing of, and talking about Michael calmly.</p> + +<p>"You are sure to meet him in England," she said; "he is a great friend +of Henry's."</p> + +<p>But afterwards, when she was alone resting in her cosy room before +dinner, she deliberately pulled the blue despatch-box toward her and +looked at some of its contents, while tears gathered in her eyes, which +even the cynical thoughts which she was calling to her aid could not +quite suppress. Would things have been different if she had been able to +send Michael the letter which she had written to him in the September of +1907? The letter she had asked Mr. Parsons, who was again in London, to +have delivered to him, into his hand—and which came back to her in +Paris with the information from the old lawyer that Mr. Arranstoun had +left England for the wilds of China and Tibet, and might not get any +letters for more than a year. She remembered how that night she had +cried herself to sleep with misery, and with a growing regret at having +left Michael, and a pitiful longing just to be clasped once more in his +strong arms and comforted. Oh! the hateful wretched memories! To have +gone off at once to China like that proved his callousness and +indifference.<span><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a></span> Then, in spite of herself, her thoughts would review all +he had said to her on that morning in the garden. No—there had not been +one word of meaning, not even any suggestion of regret that she was +practically engaged to Henry. There had been some faint allusion to +people being fools—and brutes when young, but not that they would wish +to repair the faults which they had committed then. The whole thing was +plain—he had never really cared an atom for her. He had been only +affected by passion, even on her wedding night when he was pouring love +vows into her startled ears.</p> + +<p>"He was probably horribly surprised to come upon me at Héronac," her +thoughts now ran, "and then just sampled me—and went off as soon as he +could—back to Daisy in Paris!"</p> + +<p>Here chagrin began to rise, and soon dried all her tears.</p> + +<p>Yes! she hoped he would ask them to Arranstoun. She would certainly go, +and try to punish him as much as she could by showing her absorption in +Henry, and her complete indifference to himself. His vanity would be +wounded, since he had owned to being a dog in the manger. That would be +her only revenge—and what a paltry one! She felt that—and was ashamed +of herself; but all human beings are paltry when their self-love is +wounded and the passion of jealousy has them in its thrall, and Sabine +was no better nor worse than any other woman probably. Once more she +made reso<span><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a></span>lutions, firm resolutions to think no more of Michael either +good or bad. It was perfectly sickening—the humiliation and degradation +of his so frequently coming into her mind. She pulled the despatch-box +nearer to her again, and in anger and contempt took from an envelope a +brown and withered spray of flowers, which had once been stephanotis, +and with forceful rage flung them into the fire.</p> + +<p>"There! that is done with—ridiculous, hateful sentiment, go!"</p> + +<p>And when she had shut the lid down with a snap, she rang for Simone and +began to dress for dinner, an extra flush burning in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>They crossed to England a week or so later, Lord Fordyce meeting them at +Charing Cross, and going with them to the Hotel.</p> + +<p>How dear he seemed, and how distinguished he looked! He was as ever a +soothing and uplifting influence, and before the evening was over, +Sabine felt calmed and happy, and sure she had done the right thing in +deciding to link her life with his.</p> + +<p>But it was not so with Moravia. Lord Fordyce had attracted her from the +moment she had first seen him, and as things do during periods of time, +unconsciously this feeling had simmered, and upon seeing him again had +boiled up; and alas! Moravia—beautiful young widow and Princess—found +herself extremely perturbed and excited, and undoubtedly becoming deeply +inter<span><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a></span>ested in the declared lover of her friend. Henry for her had every +charm. He was gentle and courteous, he was witty, and calm with that +well-bred consciousness which she adored in Englishmen, and which Sabine +had always said irritated her so.</p> + +<p>It was all too exasperating because, with her unerring feminine +instinct, she divined that Sabine really did not love him at all. If she +had felt that she did, Moravia could have borne it better, but as it was +fate was too hard, and when a week went by the Princess began actually +to feel unhappy. They were continually surrounded with friends, and at +every meal had the kind of parties that once she had taken such delight +in. People were just beginning to come back to London, and they had +amusing play dinners and what not, and all Henry's family, an +intelligent and aristocratic band, had showered attention upon them. The +Princess had very seldom been in London before—and quite understood +that, but for the one particular cherry being out of reach which spoilt +all her joy, she could have been, to use one of Miss Van der Horn's pet +expressions, "terribly amused." Sabine, as the days wore on, and she was +under Henry's influence again, lost her feeling of unrest and grew +happy, and heard Michael's name without a tremor.</p> + +<p>For Moravia dragged him into the conversation by saying how much she +would like to meet him after all she had heard of him in Paris.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a></span>"I had a letter from him this morning," Lord Fordyce said. "He is +shooting in Norfolk at this moment, but comes up to town on Friday +night. I will ask him to dine then, Princess, and you shall see what you +think of him. He really is a very charming fellow, for all his +recklessness—and I expect half those enchanting tales they told you of +him are overdrawn."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not!" Moravia laughed. "Do not disillusion me!"</p> + +<p>Next day, Henry told them that he had wired to Mr. Arranstoun, who had +wired back that he was very sorry he could not dine with them on Friday +and go to a play, so Lord Fordyce promised the Princess he would find +another occasion to present his friend.</p> + +<p>To him, Henry, this week in late October had been one of almost +unalloyed happiness—although he could have dispensed with the +continuous parties; still, he felt the Princess had to be amused, and +perhaps in a larger company he got more chance of speaking to his +beloved alone.</p> + +<p>The position of a man nearly always affects women—and the great and +unmistakable prestige, which it was plain to be seen Henry possessed, +had added to his charm in both Moravia and Sabine's eyes. It gratified +Sabine's vanity. She knew this, she was quite cognizant of the fact that +it pleased her. She felt glad and proud that she should occupy so +exalted a place in the world's eyes, as she would do as his wife. Surely +all the great <span><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a></span>duties and interests of that position would make life +very fair. It would be such peace and relief when the divorce +proceedings would come on and be finished with—a much less tiresome +affair in Scotland, she had heard, than in an English court.</p> + +<p>When Michael Arranstoun got Henry's wire asking him to dine, he laughed +bitterly. There was something so cynically entertaining in the idea of +the whole situation! He was being asked out to meet the wife whom he was +madly in love with, and was preparing to divorce for desertion, so that +she might marry the giver of the invitation!</p> + +<p>He was tempted to accept for a second or two, the desire to see her +again was growing almost more than he could bear; but at this period he +had still strength to refuse—and then, as the days went on, it seemed +that nothing gave him any pleasure, and that constantly and incessantly +his thoughts turned to one subject. If there had been no friendship or +honor mixed up in the thing, nothing would have been simpler than to sit +down and write to Henry telling him plainly that Sabine was his +wife—and that she must choose between them. But then he remembered +that, apart from all friendship, Sabine had already plainly expressed +her choice, and that he had absolutely no right to hold her in any way +since he had given her permission all those years ago to make what she +chose of her life. He had not yet instructed his lawyers to begin actual +proceedings—he <span><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a></span>was in a furnace of indecision and unrest. He would +like just somehow to get Sabine to Arranstoun first—then, if after that +she still plainly showed that she loved Henry, he would make himself go +ahead with the freedom scheme; but if he commenced actual proceedings +now, by no possibility could she come to Arranstoun—and this idea—to +get her to Arranstoun, began to be an obsession. Just in proportion as +his nature was wild and rebellious, so the mad longing grew and grew in +him to induce her to come once more into his house.</p> + +<p>And it would seem that fate at first intended to assist him in this, for +on the second of November the party went up North to stay with Rose +Forster, Henry's sister, at Ebbsworth for a great ball she was giving +for a newly married niece.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">F</span> +<span class="smcap">or</span> a day or two, Michael Arranstoun could not make up his mind, when he +heard of the Ebbsworth ball, as to whether or no he ought to go to it. +He had several conversations with Binko upon the subject, and finally +came to the conclusion that he would go. He had grown so desperately +unhappy by this time, that he cared no more whether it were right or +wrong—he must see Sabine. He had not believed that it could be possible +for him to suffer to such a degree about a woman. He <i>must</i> satisfy +himself absolutely as to the fact of her loving Henry.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>Rose Forster had written, of course, to ask him to stay in the house for +it—holding out the bait that she had two absolutely charming Americans +coming. So Michael fell—and accepted, not without excusing himself to +Binko as he finished writing out his wire:</p> + +<div class="blockquot padtop"> + +Thousand thanks. I will come. +</div> + +<p class="padtop">"I am a coward, Binko—I ought to have the pluck to go off to Timbuctoo +and let Henry have a fair field—but I haven't and must be certain +first."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a></span>They were all at tea in the library at Ebbsworth when he arrived, +having motored over from Arranstoun after lunch.</p> + +<p>Everyone was enchanted to see him, and greeted him with delight. He knew +almost the whole twenty of them, most of whom were old friends.</p> + +<p>The hostess took him over to the tea table, and sitting near it in a +ravishing tea-gown was Moravia. Rose Forster introduced him casually, +while she poured him out some tea.</p> + +<p>The library was a big room with one or two tall screens, and from behind +the furthest one there came a low, rippling laugh. The sound of it +maddened Michael, and his bold blue eyes blazed as he began to talk to +the Princess. His naturally easy manners made him able to carry on some +kind of a conversation, but his whole attention was fixed upon the +whereabouts of Sabine. She was with Henry, of course, behind that +Spanish leather screen. He hardly even noticed that Moravia was a very +pretty woman, most wonderfully dressed; but he felt she was a powerful +unit in his game of getting Sabine to Arranstoun, and so he endeavored +to make himself agreeable to her.</p> + +<p>Presently, in the general move, Lord Fordyce and his lady love emerged +with two other people they had been talking to, and Henry came up to +Michael with outstretched hand.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a></span>He was awfully glad to see him, he said. Then this estranged husband +and wife were face to face.</p> + +<p>It was a wonderful moment for both of them, and with all the schooling +that each one had been through, it was extremely difficult to behave +naturally. Michael did not fight with himself, except to keep from all +outward expression; he knew he was simply overcome with emotion; but +Sabine continued to throw dust in her own eyes. The sudden wild beating +of her heart she put down to every other reason but the true one. It was +most wrong of Michael to have come to this party; but it was, of course, +done out of bravado to show her that she did not matter to him at +all—so with supreme sangfroid she greeted him casually, and then turned +eyes of tenderness to Henry.</p> + +<p>"You were going to show me the miniatures in the next room, Lord +Fordyce—were you not?" she said, sweetly, and took a step on toward the +door, leaving Michael with pain and rage for company.</p> + +<p>She had never allowed Henry to kiss her since that one occasion at +Héronac. It was not as it should be, she affirmed—until she were free +and really engaged to him, she prayed him to behave always only as a +friend. Lord Fordyce acquiesced, as he would have done to any penance +she chose to impose upon him, and in his secret thoughts rather +respected her for her decision; he was then more than delighted when she +put her slender hand upon his arm with possessive famili<span><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a></span>arity as soon +as they had reached the anteroom where the collection of miniatures were +kept; but he did not know that she was aware that Michael stood where he +could see them through the archway.</p> + +<p>"My darling!" and he lifted the white fingers to his lips. Sabine had +particularly beautiful hands, and they were his delight. She never wore +any rings—only her wedding-ring and the one great pearl Henry had +persuaded her to let him give her, but this was on her right hand.</p> + +<p>"It would mean nothing for me to have it on the left one—while that bar +of gold is there," she had told him. "I will only take it if you let me +have it as a gage of friendship," and as ever he agreed. He was so +passionately in love with her, there was nothing in the world he would +not have done or left undone to please her. His eye followed her always +with rapture, and her slightest wish was instantly obeyed. Sabine was +naturally an autocrat, and, but for the great generosity of her spirit, +might have made him suffer considerably, but she did not, being +consistently gentle and sweet.</p> + +<p>"My darling!" Henry repeated, in the little anteroom, while his fond +eyes devoured her face. "Sometimes I love you so it frightens me—My +God, if anything were to take you from me now, I do not think I could +bear it."</p> + +<p>Sabine shivered as she bent down to look at a case of Cosways in a show +table.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a></span>"Nothing can take you from me, Henry—unless something goes wrong about +the divorce. My lawyer arrives in England to-day from America on purpose +to consult me and see what can be done to hasten matters. +My—husband—has not as yet started the proceedings it seems."</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce's face paled.</p> + +<p>"Does that mean anything sinister, dearest?" he demanded, with a quiver +in his cultivated voice. "Sabine, you would tell me, would you not, if +there were anything to fear?"</p> + +<p>"I do not myself know what it means—I may have some news to-morrow—let +us forget about it to-night. Oh! I want to be happy just for to-night, +Henry!" and she held out her hand again pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you shall be, darling," and splendid and unselfish gentleman +that he was, he crushed down his anguish, and used all his clever brain +to divert and entertain her, and presently all the women went up to +dress for dinner and the ball, and Lord Fordyce found Michael in the +smoking-room. He had really a deep affection for him; he had known him +ever since he was an absolutely fearless, dare-devil little boy, the joy +and pride of his father, Henry's old friend, and in spite of the full +ten years' difference in their ages, they had ever been closest allies +until their break at Arranstoun, and then Michael's five years abroad +had made a gap, bridged over now since his return. Lord For<span><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a></span>dyce felt +that Michael's intense vitality and radiating magnetism would be +refreshing in the depressed state into which his lady love's words had +thrown him, and he drew him over with him, and they sat down in two big +chairs apart from the rest of the festive groups—some playing bridge or +billiards. Michael was in no gentle temper, and Henry was the last +person he wished to talk to. He knew he ought not to have come, he knew +that he ought to tell Henry straight out and then go off before the +ball. He felt he was behaving like the most despicable coward; and yet, +if it were possible for Henry never to know that he, Michael, was +Sabine's husband, it would save his friend much pain. He was smarting +under Sabine's insolent dismissal of him, and burning with jealousy over +that witnessed caress, the violent passions of his race were surging up +and causing a devil of recklessness to show in his very handsome face. +Lord Fordyce saw that something had disturbed him.</p> + +<p>"What's up, Michael, old boy?" he asked. "I haven't seen you look so +like Black James since you got Violet Hatfield's letter and did not see +how you could get out of marrying her."</p> + +<p>Black James was a famous Arranstoun of the Court of James IV of +Scotland, whose exploits had been the terror and admiration of the whole +country, and who was even yet a byword for recklessness and savagery.</p> + +<p>Michael laughed.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a></span>"Poor old Violet!" he said. "She will soon be bringing out her +daughter. I saw her the other day in London; she cut me dead!"</p> + +<p>"That was an escape!" and Henry lit a cigar. "However, as you know, a +year after weeping crocodile tears for poor Maurice, she married young +Layard of Balmayn. So all's well that ends well. She and Rose have never +spoken since the scene when Violet read in the <i>Scotsman</i> that you had +got married!"</p> + +<p>"Don't let's talk of it!" returned Mr. Arranstoun. "The whole thought of +marriage and matrimony makes me sick!"</p> + +<p>"Are you in some fresh scrape?" Henry exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Michael put his head down doggedly, while his eyes flashed and he bit +off the end of his cigar.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the very devil of a hole—but this time no one can help me with +advice or even sympathy; I must get out of the tangle myself."</p> + +<p>"I am awfully sorry, old man."</p> + +<p>"It is my own fault, that is what hurts the most."</p> + +<p>"I do not feel particularly brilliant to-night either," Henry announced. +"The divorce proceedings have not apparently been commenced in +America—and nothing definite can be settled. I do not understand it +quite. I always thought that out there the woman could always get +matters manipulated for her, and get rid of the man when she wanted. +They are so very chivalrous to women, American men, whatever may be +<span><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a></span>their other sins. This one must be an absolute swine."</p> + +<p>"Yes—does Mrs. Howard feel it very much?" and Michael's deep voice +vibrated strangely.</p> + +<p>"She spoke of it just now. Her lawyer arrives from New York to-day to +consult with her what is best next to be done."</p> + +<p>"And she never told you a thing about the fellow, Henry? How very +strange of her, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce's fine, gray eyes gleamed.</p> + +<p>"Ah—Michael, if you had ever loved a woman, you would know that when +you really do, you desire to trust her to the uttermost. Sabine would +tell me and offered to at once if I wished, but—it all upsets her so—I +agree with her—it is much happier for both of us not to talk about it. +Only if there seems to be some hitch I will get her to tell me, so that +I may be able to help her. I have a fairly clear judgment generally—and +may see some points she and Mr. Parsons have neglected."</p> + +<p>Michael gazed into the fire—at this moment his worst enemy might have +pitied him.</p> + +<p>"Supposing anything were to go really wrong, Henry, it would cut you up +awfully, eh?"</p> + +<p>And if Lord Fordyce had not been so preoccupied with his own emotions, +he would have seen an over-anxiety on the face of his friend.</p> + +<p>"I believe it would just end my life, Michael," he <span><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a></span>answered, very low. +"I am not a boy, you know, to get over it and begin again."</p> + +<p>Mr. Arranstoun bounded from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Nothing must be allowed to go wrong, then, old man," he exclaimed +almost fiercely. "Don't you fret. But, by Jove, we will be late for +dinner!" and afraid to trust himself to say another word, he turned to +one of the groups near and at last got from the room. He did not go up +to his own, but on into the front hall, and so out into the night. A +brisk wind was blowing, and the moon, a young, frosty moon was bright. +He knew the place well, and paced a stone terrace undisturbed. It was on +the other side all was noise and bustle, where the large, built out +ball-room stood.</p> + +<p>An absolute decision must be come to. No more shilly-shallying—he had +thrown the dice and lost and must pay the stakes. He would ask her to +dance this night and then get speech with her alone—discuss what would +be best to do to save Henry, and then on the morrow go and begin +proceedings immediately.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, up in Moravia's room, Sabine was seated upon the white +sheep's-skin rug before the fire; she was wildly excited and extremely +unhappy.</p> + +<p>The sight of Michael again had upset all her fancied indifference, and +shaken her poise; and apart from this, the situation was grotesque and +unseemly. She could no longer suffer it: she would tell Henry the whole +truth to-morrow and ask him what she must do. His <span><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a></span>love almost terrified +her. What awful responsibility lay in her hand? But civilization +commanded her to dress in her best, and go down and dance gaily and play +her part in the world.</p> + +<p>"Oh! what slaves we are, Morri!" she exclaimed, as though speaking her +thoughts aloud, for the remark had nothing to do with what the Princess +had said.</p> + +<p>Moravia, who was lying on the sofa not in the best of moods either, +answered gloomily:</p> + +<p>"Yes, slaves—or savages. The truth is, we are nearly all animals more +or less. Some are caught by wiles, and some are trapped, and some revel +in being captured—and a few—a few are like me—they get away as a bird +with a shot in its wing."</p> + +<p>Sabine was startled—what was agitating her friend?</p> + +<p>"But your troubles are over, Morri, darling—your wings are strong and +free!"</p> + +<p>"I said there was a shot in one of them."</p> + +<p>Sabine came and sat upon a stool beside her, and took and caressed her +hand.</p> + +<p>"Something has hurt you, dearest," she cooed, rubbing Moravia's arm with +her velvet cheek. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not hurt—I am only cynical. I despise our sex—most of us are +just primitive savages underneath at one time of our lives or +another—we adore the strong man who captures us in spite of all our +struggles!"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a></span>"Morri!"</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly true! we all pass through it. In the beginning, when +Girolamo devoured me with kisses and raged with jealousy, and one day +almost beat me, I absolutely worshipped him; it was when he became +polite—and then yawned that my misery began. You will go through it, +Sabine, if you have not already done so. It seems we suffer all the +time, because when that is over then we learn to appreciate gentleness +and chivalry—and probably by then it is out of our reach."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe anything is out of our reach if we want it enough," and +Sabine closed her firm mouth.</p> + +<p>"Then I wonder what you want, Sabine—because I know you do not really +want Lord Fordyce—he represents chivalry—and I don't believe you are +at that stage yet, dearest."</p> + +<p>"What stage am I at, then, Morri?"</p> + +<p>"The one when you want a master—you have mastered everything yourself +up to now—but the moment will come to you—and then you will be +fortunate, perhaps, if fate keeps the man away!"</p> + +<p>Sabine's violet eyes grew black as night—and her little nostrils +quivered.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of passions, Moravia," she cried, and threw out her +arms. "I have only dreamed of them—imagined them. I am afraid of +them—afraid to feel too much. Henry will be a haven of rest—the +moment—can never come to me."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a></span>The Princess laughed a little bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Then let us dress, darling, and go down and outshine all these dear, +dowdy Englishwomen; and while you are sipping courtesy and gentleness +with Lord Fordyce, I shall try to quaff gloriously attractive, +aboriginal force with Mr. Arranstoun—but it would have been more +suitable to our characters could we have changed partners. Now, run +along!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">R</span> +<span class="smcap">ose Forster</span> had felt she must not lure Mr. Arranstoun over to Ebbsworth +on false pretences; he was a very much sought after young man, and since +his return from the wilds had been very difficult to secure, and +therefore it was her duty to give him one of her beautiful Americans at +dinner. The Princess was obviously the destiny of her husband with her +brother Henry upon the other side, so Michael must take in Mrs. Howard. +Mr. Arranstoun was one of the last two guests to assemble in the great +drawing-room where the party were collected, and did not hear of his +good fortune until one minute before dinner was announced.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>Sabine had perhaps never looked so well in her life. She had not her +father's nation's love of splendid jewels, and wore none of any kind. +Her French mother may have transmitted to her some wonderful strain of +tastes which from earliest youth had seemed to guide her into selecting +the most beautiful and becoming things without great knowledge. Her ugly +frocks at the Convent had been a penance, and ever since she had been +<span><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a></span>free and rich her clothes and all her belongings had been marvels of +distinction and simplicity.</p> + +<p>Moravia was, strictly speaking, far more beautiful, but Sabine, as Henry +had once said, had "it."</p> + +<p>Her manner was just what it ought to have been, as she placed her hand +upon her husband's arm—perfectly indifferent and gracious, and so they +went in to dinner.</p> + +<p>Michael had hardly hoped to have this chance and meant to make the most +of it. At dinner before a ball was not the place to have a serious +discussion about divorce, but was for lighter and more frivolous +conversation, and he felt his partner would be no unskilled adversary +with the foils.</p> + +<p>"So you have got this far north, Mrs. Howard," he began by saying, +making a slight pause over the name. "I wish I could persuade you to +come over the border to Arranstoun; it is only thirty-five miles from +here, and really merits your attention."</p> + +<p>"I have heard it is a most interesting place," Sabine returned, suddenly +experiencing the same wild delight in the game as she had done in the +garden at Héronac. "Have you ghosts there? We do not have such things in +France."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there are a number of ghosts—but the most persistent and +disconcerting one is a very young girl who nightly falls through a +secret door into my room."</p> + +<p>"How romantic! What is she like?" Two violet eyes <span><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a></span>looked up at him full +of that mischief which lies in the orbs of a kitten when it contemplates +some fearsome crime, and has to appear especially innocent.</p> + +<p>Michael thrilled. If she had that expression he was quite ready to +follow the lead.</p> + +<p>"She is perfectly enchanting—shall I tell you exactly what she +wears—and her every feature and the color of her eyes? The wraith so +materializes that I can describe it as accurately as I could describe +you sitting next me."</p> + +<p>"Please do."</p> + +<p>"She is about five foot seven tall—I mean she has grown as tall as +that—when she first appeared she could not have been taller than five +foot five."</p> + +<p>"How strange!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, isn't it—well, she has the most divine figure, quite slight and +yet not scraggy—you know the kind, I loathe them scraggy!"</p> + +<p>"I hate fat people."</p> + +<p>"But she isn't fat. I tell you she is too sweet. She has a round baby +face with the loveliest violet eyes in the world and such a skin!—like +a velvet rose petal!" His unabashed regard penetrated Sabine who smiled +slyly.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you can see all these material things in a +ghost!" she cried with an enchanting air of incredulity.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly—I have not half finished yet. I have not <span><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a></span>told you about her +mouth—it is very curved and full and awfully red—and there is the most +adorable dimple up at one side of it, I am sure the people in the ghost +world that she meets must awfully want to kiss it."</p> + +<p>Sabine frowned. This was rather too intimate a description, but +bashfulness or diffidence she knew were not among Mr. Arranstoun's +qualities—or defects.</p> + +<p>"I think I am tired of hearing what this ghost looks like, I want to +know what does she do? Aren't you petrified with fright?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," Michael told her, "but you will just have to hear +about her hair—when it comes down it is like lovely bronze waves—and +her little feet, too—they are exquisite enough in shoes and stockings, +but without——!"</p> + +<p>Here he had the grace to look at his fish which was just being handed.</p> + +<p>A flush as pink as the pinkest rose came into Sabine's cheeks—he was +perfectly disgraceful and this was of course in shocking taste—but when +he glanced up again his attractive blue eyes had her late look of an +innocent kitten's in them and he said in an angelic tone:</p> + +<p>"She has not a fault, you may believe me, and she jumps up after the +fall into the room, and sits in one of my big chairs!"</p> + +<p>"Does she scold you for your sins as denizens of another sphere ought to +do?" Mrs. Howard was constrained to ask.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a></span>"No—she is a little angel and always tells me that sins are forgiven."</p> + +<p>"Does she come often?"</p> + +<p>"Every single evening when I am alone—and—sometimes, she melts into my +arms and stays with me all night. Binko—Ah!—you remember Binko!"—for +Sabine's face had suddenly lit up—and at this passionate joy and +emotion flooded Michael's and they both stopped dead short in their talk +and Sabine took a quick breath that was almost a gasp.</p> + +<p>"I remember—nothing," she said very fast, "how should I? The girl whose +ghost you are speaking of ceased to exist five years ago—but +I—recognize the portrait—I knew her in life—and she told me about the +dog—he had fat paws and quantities of wrinkles, I think she said."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is Binko!" and his master beamed rapturously. "He is the most +beautifully ugly bulldog in the world, but the poor old boy is getting +on, he is seven years old now. Would not you like to see him—again—I +mean from what you have heard!"</p> + +<p>"I love animals, especially dogs—but tell me, is he not afraid of the +ghost?"</p> + +<p>Michael drank some champagne, even under all his unhappiness he was +greatly enjoying himself. "Not at all, he loves her to come as much as I +do. She haunts—both my rooms—and the chapel, too—she wears a white +dress and has some stephanotis in her hair—and<span><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a></span> I am somehow compelled +to enact a whole scene with her—there before the altar with all the +candles blazing—and it seems as if I put a ring upon her hand—like the +one you are wearing there—she has lovely hands."</p> + +<p>The color began to die out of Sabine's cheeks and a strange look grew in +her eyes. The footmen were removing the fish plates, but she was +oblivious of that. Then the tones of Michael's voice changed and grew +deeper.</p> + +<p>"Soon all the vision fades into gloom, and the only thing I can see is +that she is tearing my ring off and throwing it away into the darkness."</p> + +<p>"And do you try to prevent her from doing this?" Sabine hardly spoke +above a whisper, while she absently refused an entrée which was being +handed. To talk of ghosts and such like things had been easy enough, but +she had not bargained for him turning the conversation into one of +serious meaning. She could not, however, prevent herself from continuing +it, she had never been so interested in her life.</p> + +<p>"No—I cannot do that—there is an archangel standing between."</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Howard's other neighbor claimed her attention; he +was a man to whom she had been talking at tea, and who was already +filled with admiration for her.</p> + +<p>Michael had time for breathing space, and to con<span><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a></span>sider whether the +course he was pursuing was wisdom or not. That it was madly exciting, he +knew—but where was it leading to? What did she mean? Did she feel at +all? or was she one of the clever coquettes of her nation, a more +refined Daisy Van der Horn—just going to lead him on into showing his +emotion for her, and then going to punish and humiliate him? He must put +a firmer guard over himself, for propinquity and the night were exciting +influence, and the cruel fact remained that it was too late in any case. +Henry's words this afternoon had cast the die forever; +he—Michael—could not for any personal happiness be so hideously cruel +to his old friend. Better put a bullet through his own brain than that. +Whatever should develop on this night, and he meant to continue the +conversation as it should seem best to him, and if she fenced too +daringly with him to take the button off the foils—but whatever should +come of it it should not be allowed to alter his intention of to-morrow +instructing his lawyers in Edinburgh to begin divorce proceedings at +once. He was like a gambler who has lost his last stake, and who still +means to take what joy of life he can before the black to-morrow dawns. +So, in the ten minutes or so while Sabine had turned from him, he laid +his plans. He would see how much he could make her feel. He would dance +with her later and then say a final farewell. If she were hurt, too, he +must not care—she had made the barrier of her own free will.<span><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a></span> The +person who was blameless and should not suffer was Henry. Then he began +to look at Sabine furtively, and caught the outline of her sweet, +averted head. How irresistibly attractive she was! The exact type he +admired; not too intellectual-looking, just soft and round and babyish; +there was one little curl on her snowy <i>nuque</i> that he longed to kiss +there and then. What a time she was talking to the other man! He would +not bear it!</p> + +<p>And Sabine, while she apparently listened to her neighbor, had not the +remotest idea of what he said. The whole of her being was thrilling with +some strange and powerful emotion, which almost made her feel faint—she +could not have swallowed a morsel of food, and simply played with her +fork.</p> + +<p>At the first possible pause, Michael addressed her again:</p> + +<p>"Since you knew the lady in life who is now my ghost—and she told you +of Binko—did she not say anything else about her visit to Arranstoun or +its master?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—it was all apparently a blank horror, and she probably wanted +to forget it and him."</p> + +<p>"He made some kind of an impression upon her, then—good or bad, since +she wanted to forget him—" eagerly.</p> + +<p>Sabine admitted to herself that the umpires might have called "<i>touché</i>" +for this.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a></span>"It would seem so," she allowed, with what she thought was generosity.</p> + +<p>"That is better than only creating indifference."</p> + +<p>"Yes—the indifference came later."</p> + +<p>"One expected that; but there was a time, you have inferred, when she +felt something. What was it? Can't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>Excitement was rising high now in both of them, and the grouse on their +plates remained almost untasted.</p> + +<p>"At first, she did not know herself, I think; but afterwards, when she +came to understand things, she felt resentment and hate, and it taught +her to appreciate chivalry and gentleness."</p> + +<p>Michael almost cried "<i>touché</i>!" aloud.</p> + +<p>"He was an awful brute—the owner of Arranstoun, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—apparently—and one who broke a contract and rather glorified in +the fact."</p> + +<p>Michael laughed a little bitterly, as he answered:</p> + +<p>"All men are brutes when the moment favors them, and when a woman is +sufficiently attractive. We will admit that the owner of Arranstoun was +a brute."</p> + +<p>"He was a man who, I understand, lived only for himself and for his +personal gratification," Mrs. Howard told him.</p> + +<p>"Poor devil! He perhaps had not had much chance. You should be +charitable!"</p> + +<p>Sabine shrugged her shoulders in that engaging way <span><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a></span>she had. She had +hardly looked up again at Michael since the beginning, the exigencies of +the dinner-table being excuse enough for not turning her head; but his +eyes often devoured her fascinating, irregular profile to try and +discover her real meaning, but without success.</p> + +<p>"He was probably one of those people who are more or less like animals, +and just live because they are alive," Sabine went on. "Who are educated +because they happen to have been born in the upper classes—Who drink +and eat and sport and game because it gives their senses pleasure so to +do—but who see no further good in things."</p> + +<p>"A low wretch!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—more or less."</p> + +<p>Michael's eyes were flashing now—and she did peep at him, when he said:</p> + +<p>"But if the original of the ghost had stayed with him, she might have +been able to change this base view of life—she could have elevated +him."</p> + +<p>Sabine shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, she was too young and too inexperienced, and he had broken all her +ideals, absolutely stunned and annihilated her whole vista of the +future. There was no other way but flight. She had to reconstruct her +soul alone."</p> + +<p>"You do not ask me what became of the owner of Arranstoun—or what he +did with his life."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a></span>"I know he went to China—but the matter does not interest me. There he +probably continued to live and to kill other things—to seize what he +wanted and get some physical joy out of existence as usual."</p> + +<p>A look of pain now quenched the fire.</p> + +<p>"You are very cruel," he said.</p> + +<p>"The owner of Arranstoun was very cruel."</p> + +<p>"He knows it and is deeply repentant; but he was and is only a very +ordinary man."</p> + +<p>"No, a savage."</p> + +<p>"A savage then, if you will—and one dangerous to provoke too far;" the +fire blazed again. "And what do you suppose your friend learned in those +five years of men—after she had ceased to exist as the owner of +Arranstoun knew her?"</p> + +<p>Sabine laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound.</p> + +<p>"Of men! That they are like children, desiring only the toys that are +out of reach, wasting their souls upon what they cannot obtain and +valuing not at all the gifts of the gods which are in their own +possession."</p> + +<p>"What a cynical view!"</p> + +<p>"Is it not a true one?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—in some cases—in mine certainly; only I have generally +managed to obtain what I wanted."</p> + +<p>"Then it may be a new experience for you to find there was one thing +which was out of your reach."</p> + +<p>He bent forward eagerly and asked, with a catch in his breath:</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a></span>"And that was——?"</p> + +<p>"The soul of a woman—shall we say—that something which no brute force +can touch."</p> + +<p>The fencing bout was over, the foils were laid aside, and grim earnest +was in Michael's voice now—modulated by civilization into that tone +which does not carry beyond one's neighbor at a dinner party.</p> + +<p>"Your soul—Sabine—that is the only thing which interests me, and I was +never able to touch your soul? That is not true, as you know—How dare +you say it to me. There was one moment——"</p> + +<p>"Hush," she whispered, growing very white. "You must not—you shall not +speak to me so. You had no right to come here. No right to talk to me at +all—it is traitorous—we are both traitors to Lord Fordyce, who is a +noble gentleman above suspecting us of such wiles."</p> + +<p>And at that moment, through a gap in the flowers of the long table, they +both saw Henry's gray eyes fixed upon them with a rather questioning +surprise—and then Mrs. Forster gave the signal to the ladies, and +Sabine with the others swept from the room, leaving Michael quivering +with pain and emotion.</p> + +<p>As for Sabine, she was trembling from head to foot.</p> + +<p>During dinner, Moravia had had an interesting conversation with Henry. +They had spoken of all sorts of things and eventually, toward the end of +it, of Sabine.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a></span>"She is the strangest character, Lord Fordyce," Moravia said. "She is +more like a boy than a girl in some ways. She absolutely rules everyone. +When we were children, she and all the others used to call me the mother +in our games, but it was really Sabine who settled everything. She was +always the brigand captain. She got us into all the mischief of +clandestine feasts and other rule breaking—and all the Sisters simply +adored her, and the Mother Superior, too, and they used to let her off, +no matter what she did, with not half our punishments. She was the +wildest madcap you ever saw."</p> + +<p>Henry was, of course, deeply interested.</p> + +<p>"She is sufficiently grave and dignified now!" he responded in +admiration, his worshiping eyes turned in Sabine's direction; but it was +only when she moved in a certain way that he could see her, through the +flowers. Michael he saw plainly all the time, and perceived that he was +not boring himself.</p> + +<p>"Her character, then, would seem to have been rather like my friend's, +Michael Arranstoun's," he remarked. "They have both such an astonishing, +penetrating vitality, one would almost know when either of them was in +the room even if one could not see them."</p> + +<p>"He is awfully good-looking and attractive, your friend," Moravia +returned. "I have never seen such bold, devil-may-care blue eyes. I +suppose women adore him; I personally have got over my interest in that +<span><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a></span>sort of man. I much prefer courteous and more diffident creatures."</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce smiled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe women spoil Michael terribly, and he is perfectly +ruthless with them, too; but I understand that they like that sort of +thing."</p> + +<p>"Yes—most of them do. It is the simple demonstration of strength which +allures them. You see, man was meant to be strong," and Moravia laughed +softly, "wasn't he? He was not designed in the scheme of things to be a +soft, silky-voiced creature like Cranley Beaton, for instance—talking +gossip and handing tea-cups; he was just intended to be a fierce, great +hunter, rushing round killing his food and capturing his mate; and women +have remained such primitive unspoiled darlings, they can still be +dominated by these lovely qualities—when they have a chance to see +them. But, alas! half the men have become so awfully civilized, they +haven't a scrap of this delightful, aboriginal force left!"</p> + +<p>"I thought you said you personally preferred more diffident creatures," +and Lord Fordyce smiled whimsically.</p> + +<p>"So I do now—I said I had got over my interest in these savages—but, +of course, I liked them once, as we all do. It is one of our fatal +stages that we have to pass through, like snakes changing their skins; +and it makes many of us during the time lay up for ourselves all sorts +of regrets."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a></span>Henry sought eagerly through the flowers his beloved's face. Had she, +too, passed through this stage—or was it to come? He asked himself this +question a little anxiously, and then he remembered the words of Père +Anselme, and an unrest grew in his heart. The Princess saw that some +shadow had gathered upon his brow, and guessed, since she knew that his +thoughts in general turned that way, that it must be something to do +with Sabine—so she said:</p> + +<p>"Sabine and I have come through our happinesses, I trust, since Convent +days—and what we must hope for now is an Indian summer."</p> + +<p>Henry turned rather wistful eyes to her.</p> + +<p>"An Indian summer!" he exclaimed. "A peaceful, beautiful warmth after +the riotous joy of the real blazing June! Tell me about it?"</p> + +<p>Moravia sighed softly.</p> + +<p>"It is the land where the souls who have gone through the fire of pain +live in peace and quiet happiness, content to glow a little before the +frosts of age come to quench all passion and pleasure."</p> + +<p>Henry looked down at the grapes on his plate.</p> + +<p>"There is autumn afterwards," he reasoned, "which is full of richness +and glorious fruit. May we not look forward to that? But yet I know that +we all deceive ourselves and live in what may be only a fool's +paradise"—and then it was that he caught sight of his adored, as she +bent forward after her rebuke to Mi<span><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a></span>chael—and with a burst of feeling +in his controlled voice, he cried: "But who would forego his fool's +paradise!"—and then he took in the fact that some unusual current of +emotion must have been passing between the two—and his heart gave a +great bound of foreboding.</p> + +<p>For the keenness of his perceptions and his honesty of judgment made him +see that they were strangely suited to one another—his darling and his +friend—so strong and vital and young.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span> +<span class="smcap">he</span> ball was going splendidly and everyone seemed to be in wild form. +Sabine had danced with an excitement in her veins which she could not +control. Had there been no music or lights, she might just have felt +frightfully disturbed and unhappy, but as it was she was only conscious +of excitement. Lord Fordyce was above showing jealousy, and was content +that she seemed to be enjoying herself, and did not appear unwilling to +return to him quite frequently and walk about the room or sit down.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>"You are looking so supremely bewitching, my darling," he told her. "I +feel it is selfish of me to keep you away from the gay dances, you are +so young and sweet. I want you to enjoy yourself. Have you not danced +with Michael Arranstoun yet? I saw you were getting on with him +splendidly at dinner—he used to be a great dancer before he went off to +foreign parts."</p> + +<p>"No, I have not spoken to him even," she answered, with what +indifference she could.</p> + +<p>"What was he saying just before you left the dining-room which made you +look so haughty, dearest? He <span><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a></span>was not impertinent to you, I hope," and +Henry frowned a little at the thought.</p> + +<p>Sabine played with her fan—she was feeling inexpressibly mean.</p> + +<p>"No—not in the least—we were discussing someone we had both +known—long ago—she is dead now. I may have been a little annoyed at +what he said. Oh! is that a Scotch reel they are going to begin?"</p> + +<p>How glad she was of this diversion! She knew she had been capricious +with Lord Fordyce once or twice during the evening. She was greatly +perturbed. Oh! Why had she not had the courage to be her usual, honest +self, and have told him immediately at Héronac who her husband really +was. She was in a false position, ashamed of her deceit and surrounded +by a net-work of acted lies; and all through everything there was a +passionate longing to speak to Michael again, and to be near him once +more as at dinner. She had been conscious of everything that he did—of +whom he had danced with—Moravia for several times—and now she knew +that he was not in the ball-room.</p> + +<p>Nothing could exceed Henry's gentleness and goodness to her. He watched +her moods and put up with her caprices; that something unusual had +disturbed her he felt, but what it could be he was unable to guess.</p> + +<p>Sabine was aware that other women were envying her for the attention +showered upon her by this much sought after man. She tried to assure +herself how for<span><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a></span>tunate she was, and now got Henry to tell her once more +of things about his home. It was in the fairest part of Kent, and they +had often talked of the wonderful garden they would have in that fertile +country sheltered from all wind, and she knew that as soon as the +divorce was over, she and Moravia would go and stay there and look over +it all, and meet his mother, which meeting had not yet been arranged. +For some unknown reason nothing would induce her to go now.</p> + +<p>"I would rather see it for the first time, Henry, when I am engaged to +you. Now I should be an ordinary visitor—can't you understand?"</p> + +<p>And he had said that he could. It always thrilled him when she appeared +to take an interest in his home.</p> + +<p>They talked now about it—and how he would so love her to choose her own +rooms and have them arranged as she liked. Then he made pictures of +their life together there, and as he spoke her heart seemed to sink and +become heavier every moment, until at last she could bear no more.</p> + +<p>It was about two dances before supper, into which she had promised to go +with him. She would get away to her room now and be alone until then. +She must pull herself together and act with common sense.</p> + +<p>She told him that she had to settle her hair, which had become +disarranged, and saying he would wait for her he left her at the foot of +the smaller staircase, which led in a roundabout way to her and +Moravia's rooms.<span><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a></span> She had not wanted to pass through the great hall +where quantities of people were sitting out. She was just crossing the +corridor where the bachelors were lodged, when she almost ran into the +arms of Michael Arranstoun.</p> + +<p>He stopped short and apologized—and then he said:</p> + +<p>"I was coming to find you—there is something I must say to you. Mrs. +Forster's sitting-room is close here—will you come with me in there for +a moment; we can be alone."</p> + +<p>Sabine hesitated. She looked up at him, so tall and masterful and +astonishingly handsome—and then she obeyed him meekly, and he led the +way into a cosy little room unlit except for a glowing mass of coals.</p> + +<p>Michael turned on one electric lamp, and they both went over to the +chimney piece.</p> + +<p>Intense excitement and emotion filled them, but while he tried to search +her face with his passionate eyes, she looked into the fire with lowered +head.</p> + +<p>Then he spoke almost fiercely:</p> + +<p>"I cannot try to guess what caused you to pretend you did not recognize +me when we met at Héronac. That first false step has created all this +hopeless tangle. I will not judge you, but only blame my own weakness in +falling in with your plan." He clasped his hands together rather wildly. +"I was so stunned with surprise to see you, and overcome with the +knowledge that I had just given Henry my word of honor that I <span><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a></span>would not +interfere with him, or make love to the lady we were going to see—a +Mrs. Howard, who was married to a ruffian of an American husband shut up +in a madhouse or home for inebriates! My God! Lies from the very +beginning," and he gave a little laugh. "I had forgotten for the moment +that you had said you would call yourself by that name, but I remembered +it afterwards. You had not decided if you would be a widow—do you +recollect?—and you wanted a coronet for your handkerchiefs and +note-paper!"</p> + +<p>Sabine quivered under the lash of his scorn.</p> + +<p>"You maddened me that afternoon and at dinner, too," he went on, "and I +made resolutions and then broke them. But each time I did, I was filled +with remorse and contrition about Henry—and I am ashamed to confess it, +I was madly jealous, too. At last, I saw you in the garden together and +knew I ought to go at once."</p> + +<p>Here his voice broke a little, and he unclasped his hands. She raised +her head defiantly now, and flashed back at him:</p> + +<p>"I understand you had admitted to being a dog in the manger—you were +always an animal of sorts!"</p> + +<p>This told, he grew paler, and into his blue eyes there came a look of +pain.</p> + +<p>"You have a perfect right to say that to me if you choose; it is +probably true. I am a very strong man with tremendous passions which +have always been in my <span><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a></span>race; but I am not altogether a brute—because, +although I want you myself with more intensity than I have ever wanted +anything in my life—I am going to give you up to Henry. I have been +through hell—ever since I came from France. I have been weak, too, and +could not face the final wrench—but I am determined at last to do what +is straight, and to-morrow I will instruct my lawyers to begin +proceedings, and I suppose in two months or less you will be free."</p> + +<p>Sabine grew white and cold—her voice was hardly audible as she asked, +looking up at him:</p> + +<p>"What made you come here to-night?"</p> + +<p>He took a step nearer to her, while he reclasped his hands, as though he +feared that he might be tempted to touch her.</p> + +<p>"I came—because I wanted to see you so that I could not stay away—I +came because I wished to convince myself again that you loved Henry, so +that there could be no shadow of uncertainty in what I intended to do."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I saw that, whether you love him or not, you desire that I shall think +that you do—and so at dinner I played for my own pleasure, the die +being cast, for something else had occurred before dinner which makes it +of no consequence to my decision whether you do or do not love him now. +It is Henry's great love for you which is the factor, because to part +from you he says would end his life. I could not commit the fright<span><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a></span>ful +cruelty and dishonor of upsetting his plans, since you are originally to +blame for concealing the truth from him, and I am to blame for abetting +you. He trusts us both as you said."</p> + +<p>Sabine was trembling; her whole fabric of peace and happiness in the +future seemed to be falling to pieces like a pack of cards.</p> + +<p>She could only look at Michael with piteous violet eyes out of which all +the defiance had gone. Her slender figure swayed a little, and she +leaned against the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he said, with a fresh clenching of his strong hands, "I would +not have believed I could have suffered so. As it is the last time we +shall ever talk to one another perhaps—I want you to know about +things—to hear it all. I would like to ask you again to forgive me for +long ago, but I suppose you feel that is past forgiveness?" His face had +a look of pleading; then he went on as she did not respond. "If you had +not left me, I would soon have made you forget that you had been angry, +as I thought indeed I had already done when you seemed to be contented +at least in my arms. But I would have caressed you into complete +forgetfulness in time—" here his voice vibrated with a deep note of +tenderness, which thrilled her—but yet she could not speak.</p> + +<p>"And what had begun just in mad passion would have grown into real love +between us—for we were made for <span><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a></span>one another Sabine—did you never +think of that?—just the same sort of natures—vigorous and all alive +and passionate, with the same joy of life in our blood. We would have +been supremely happy. But I was so frightfully arrogant in those days, +and when I spoke I was deadly ashamed of myself, and then furious with +you for daring to defy me and going after all. No one had ever disobeyed +me. But it was shame really which made me agree to join Latimer +Berkeley's expedition at once—the letter came by the early post. I +wanted to get right away and try to forget what I had done—and since +you had expressed your will, I just left you to stand by it." He leaned +upon the mantelpiece now and buried his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how wrong I was! Because you were so young I should have known that +you could not judge—and perhaps acted hastily in that sort of reaction +which always comes to one after passion—and I should have followed you +and brought you back."</p> + +<p>His tones shook with anguish now. "Well, I am punished—and so all that +is left for us to do is to say good-bye, my dear, and let us each go our +ways. You, at least, are not suffering as I am—because you do not +care."</p> + +<p>A little sob came in Sabine's throat, and she could not reply. She could +only take in the splendor of his figure and his grace as he leaned there +with dark bent head. And so, in a silence that seemed to throb and +<span><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a></span>thrill, they stood near together for a few moments with hearts at +breaking point.</p> + +<p>Then he controlled himself; he must go at once or he could no longer +answer for what he might do. She looked so sweet and sorrowful standing +close to his side, her violet eyes lowered so that their long lashes +made a shadow upon her dimpled cheek.</p> + +<p>Intense magnetic attraction drew them nearer and nearer.</p> + +<p>"Sabine!" he cried at last, hoarsely, as though the words were torn from +his tortured heart. "There is something about you which tells me that +you do not love Henry—that he has never made you feel—as I once made +you feel, and could make you feel again." He stretched out his arms in +pain. "The temptation is frightful—terrible—just to kiss you once +more—Darling—Oh! I cannot bear it. I must go!" and he took a step away +from her.</p> + +<p>But <i>the Moment</i> for Sabine had come; she could resist its force no +more, every nerve in her whole body was quivering—every unknown, though +half-guessed emotion was stirring her soul. Her whole being seemed to be +convulsed in one concentrated desire. The reality had materialized the +echoes she had often dimly felt from that night of long ago.</p> + +<p>The wild passion which she had feared, and only that very evening had +repudiated as being an impos<span><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a></span>sible experience for her, had now overtaken +her, and she could struggle no more.</p> + +<p>"Michael!" she whispered breathlessly, and held out her arms.</p> + +<p>With a cry of joy he clasped her to him in a fierce ecstasy. All the +pent-up feelings in both their souls let loose at last.</p> + +<p>It was a moment which caused time and place and all other things to be +forgotten in a glory as great as though eternity had come.</p> + +<p>"My darling, my darling!" he murmured, kissing her hair and brow and +eyelids. "Oh! the hideous cruelty that it is all too late and this must +be good-bye."</p> + +<p>But Sabine clung to him half sobbing, telling him she could not bear it; +he must not leave her now. And so they stood clasped together, trembling +with love and misery.</p> + +<p>"Darling," at last he besought her, while he unclasped her tender hands +from round his neck. "Darling, do not tempt me—it is frightful pain, +but I must keep my word. You had reason once to think that I was an +uncontrollable brute, but you shall not be able to do so any more. I +would never respect myself—or you—again if I let you make me faithless +to Henry now. It is cruel sorrow, but we cannot think of ourselves; you +know, we used too lightly for our own ends what should have been an +awfully sacred tie. Do you remember, Sabine, we swore to God to love and +be faithful forever—<span><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a></span>not meaning a word we said—and now we are +punished—" A great sob shook his deep voice.</p> + +<p>"Darling child—I love you madly, madly, Sabine—dear little one—but +you and I are just driftwood, floating down the tide—not like Henry, +who is a splendid fellow of great use to England. It is impossible that +his whole life should be ruined and sacrificed for our selfishness. +Darling—" and he paused and drew her to him again fondly. "It is our +own fault. We have let the situation develop through indecision and, I +expect, wounded vanity and weakness—and now we must have strength to +abide by our words. Henry isn't young like we are, you see. I honestly +believe it would knock him right out if anything went wrong."</p> + +<p>But Sabine clung to him still. She could think of nothing but that she +loved him, and that he was her mate and her husband, and why must she be +torn from his side for the happiness of any other man.</p> + +<p>She was in an agony of grief. And then suddenly back to her came the +words of Père Anselme, heavy as the stroke of doom. Yes, she had taken +matters into her own hands and presumed to direct fate, and now all that +she could do was to be true to herself and to her word. Michael was +right; they must say good-bye. Henry must not be sacrificed.</p> + +<p>She raised her pitiful face from his breast where it was buried, and he +framed it in both his hands, and it <span><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a></span>would have been difficult to +recognize his bold eyes, so filled were they with tenderness and love.</p> + +<p>"Sabine," he commanded, fondly, "tell me that, after all, you have +forgiven me for making you stay that night. You know that we were +perfectly happy at the end of it, and it will be such pain for me to +have to remember all the rest of my life that you hold resentment. +Darling, if only you had stayed! Oh! I would have cherished you and +petted you," here he smoothed her hair, and murmured love words in her +ear with his wonderful charm, until Sabine felt that neither heaven nor +earth nor anything else mattered but only he.</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart," he went on, "we have got to part in a moment, but I just +must know if you love me a little in spite of everything. I <i>must know</i>, +my darling little girl."</p> + +<p>Then he held her to him again with immense tenderness, even in this +moment of agonized parting exulting in the intoxication of love he saw +that he had created in her eyes. There was no wile for the enslaving of +a woman's heart that he was not master of. The question as to whether he +ought to have employed them on this occasion is quite another matter, +and not for our consideration! He was doing what he thought was the only +honorable thing possible, giving up this glorious happiness, and he was +merely a strong, passionate human being after all. They were going to +part for the rest of their lives; he must make her tell him that she +loved him, he wanted to hear her say the words.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a></span>"Sabine—little darling—answer me," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>She flung her arms round his neck, her whole body vibrating with +emotion.</p> + +<p>"I love you absolutely, Michael," she cried, "and I have always forgiven +you—I was mad to leave you, and I have longed often to go back. Oh! I +would sooner be dead than not to be your wife."</p> + +<p>They both were white now, the misery was so great. He knew he must go at +once, or he could never go at all. They were too racked with present +suffering to think what the future could contain, or of the growing +agony of the long weary days and how they could ever bear them.</p> + +<p>"My God, this is past endurance!" Michael exclaimed frantically. And +after a wild embrace, he almost flung her from him. Then, as she +staggered to a sofa she heard the door close, and knew that chapter of +her life was done.</p> + +<p>She sat there for a while gazing into the fire, too stunned with misery +even to think; but presently everything came to her with merciless +clearness. How small she had been all along! Instead of waiting until +she heard the truth, she had let a wretched paragraph in a newspaper +inflame her wounded vanity, so that she gave her promise to Henry there +and then—putting the rope round her neck with her own hands. And +afterwards, instead of being brave and true, wounded vanity again had +caused her to tighten the knot. She remembered<span><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a></span> Henry's words when he +had implored her to tell him what were the actual wishes of her +heart—and how she had cut off all retreat by her answer. She remembered +all his goodness to her and how she had accepted it as her due, making +him care for her more and more as each day came.</p> + +<p>"I have been a hopeless coward," she moaned, "a paltry, vain, hopeless +coward. I should have owned Michael was my husband immediately. Henry +could have got over it then, and now we might be happy—but it is too +late; there is nothing to be done——!"</p> + +<p>Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed brokenly. "Oh, my love, +my love—and I did not even now tell you all."</p> + +<p>The clock struck one—supper would be beginning and she must go down. If +Michael could bear this agony and behave like a gentleman, she also must +play her part with dignity. Henry would be waiting at the bottom of the +stairs.</p> + +<p>She went rapidly to her room and removed all traces of emotion, and then +she returned to the hall by the way she had come.</p> + +<p>"I was growing quite anxious, dearest," Lord Fordyce told her, as he +advanced to meet her when she came down the stairs. "I feared you were +ill, and was just coming to find you. Let us go straight in to supper +now—you look rather pale. I must take care of you and give you some +champagne," and he placed her hand in his arm fondly and led her along.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/i4.jpg"><img src="images/i4-th.jpg" width="400" height="589" alt="" title="" /></a> +<span class="caption">"'He is often in some scrape—something must have +culminated to-night'"</span> +</div> + +<p><span><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a></span></p> + +<p>They found chairs which had been kept for them at a centre table, near +their hostess and Moravia, and here they sat down. Michael was nowhere +in sight, but presently he came in with one of the house-party, and Mrs. +Forster beckoned them to her—and thus it happened that he was again at +Sabine's side. His eyes had a reckless, stony stare in them, and he +confined his conversation to the lady he had taken in. And Henry, who +was watching him, whispered to Sabine:</p> + +<p>"He is often in some scrape, Michael—something must have culminated +to-night. I have never seen him looking so haggard and pale."</p> + +<p>Sabine drank down her glass of champagne; she thought she could no +longer support the situation. She almost felt she hated Henry and his +devotion,—it was paralyzing her, suffocating her—crushing her life. +Michael never spoke to her—beyond a casual word—and at length they all +went back to the ball-room, where an extra was being played—Michael, +for a moment, standing by her side. Then a sudden madness came to them +as their eyes met, and he held out his arm.</p> + +<p>"This is my dance, I think, Mrs. Howard," he said with careless +sangfroid, and he whirled her away into the middle of the room. They +both were perfect dancers and never stopped in their wild career until +the music ended. It was a two-step, and all the young people <span><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a></span>clapped +for the band to go on. So once more they started with the throng. They +had not spoken a single word; it was a strange comfort to them just to +be together—half anguish, half bliss—but as the last bars died away, +Michael whispered in her ear:</p> + +<p>"I am going to say good-night to Rose. She is accustomed to my ways. I +have ordered my motor, and I am going home to-night—I cannot bear it +another single minute. If I stayed until to-morrow I should break my +word. I love you to absolute distraction—Good-bye," and without waiting +for her to answer he left her close to Henry and turning was lost in the +crowd.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the whole room reeled to Sabine, the lights danced in her eyes, +and a rushing sound came in her ears. She would have fallen forward only +Lord Fordyce caught her arm, while he cried, in solicitous +consternation:</p> + +<p>"My dearest, you have danced too much. You feel faint—let me take you +out of all this into the cool."</p> + +<p>But Sabine pulled herself together and assured him she was all +right—she had been giddy for a moment—he need not distress himself; +and as they walked into the conservatory she protested vehemently that +she had never been at so delightful a ball.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> +<span class="smcap">sobbing</span> wind and a weeping rain beat round the walls of Arranstoun, +and the great gray turrets and towers made a grim picture against the +November sky, darkening toward late afternoon, as its master came +through the postern gate and across the lawn to his private rooms. He +had been tramping the moorland beyond the park without Binko or a gun, +his thoughts too tempestuous to bear with even them. For the letter to +Messrs. McDonald and Malden had gone, and the first act of the tragedy +of his freedom had been begun.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>It was a colossal price to pay for honor and friendship, but while they +had been brigands and robbers for hundreds of years, the Arranstouns had +not been dishonorable men, and had once or twice in their history done a +great and generous thing.</p> + +<p>Michael was not of the character which lauded itself, indeed he was +never introspective nor thought of himself at all. He was just strong +and living and breathing, his actions governed by an inherited sense of +the fitness of things for a gentleman's code, which, unless it <span><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a></span>was +swamped, as on one occasion it had been by violent passion, very seldom +led him wrong.</p> + +<p>Now he determined never to look ahead or picture the blankness of his +days as they must become with no hope of ever seeing Sabine. He supposed +vaguely that the pain would grow less in time. He should have to play a +lot of games, and take tremendous interest in his tenants and his +property and perhaps presently go into Parliament. And if all that +failed, he could make some expedition into the wilds again. He was too +healthy and well-balanced to have even in this moment of deep suffering +any morbid ideas.</p> + +<p>When he had changed his soaking garments, he came back into his +sitting-room and pulled Binko upon his knees. The dog and his fat +wrinkles seemed some kind of comfort to him.</p> + +<p>"She remembered you, Binko, old man," he said, caressing the creature's +ears. "She is the sweetest little darling in all the world. You would +have loved her soft brown hair and her round dimpled cheek. And she +loves your master, Binko, just as he loves her; she has forgiven him for +everything of long ago—and if she could, she would come back here, and +live with us and make us divinely happy—as we believed she was going to +do once when we were young."</p> + +<p>And then he thought suddenly of Henry's home—the stately Elizabethan +house amidst luxuriant, peaceful scenery—not grim and strong like +Arranstoun—though <span><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a></span>she preferred gaunt castles, evidently, since she +had bought Héronac for her own. But the thought of Henry's home and her +adorning it brought too intimate pictures to his imagination; they +galled him so that at last he could not bear it and started to his feet.</p> + +<p>It was possible to part from her and go away, but it was not possible to +contemplate calmly the fact of her being the wife of another man. +Material things came always more vividly to Michael than spiritual ones, +and the vision he had conjured up was one of Sabine encircled by Henry's +arms. This was unbearable—and before he was aware of it he found he was +clenching his fists in rage, and that Binko was sitting on his haunches, +blinking at him, with his head on one side in his endeavors to +understand.</p> + +<p>Michael pulled himself together and laughed bitterly aloud.</p> + +<p>"I must just never think of it, old man," he told the dog, "or I shall +go mad."</p> + +<p>Then he sat down again. With what poignant regret he looked back upon +his original going to China! If only he had stayed and gone after her, +that next day, and seized her again, and brought her back here to this +room—they would have had five years of happiness. She was sweeter now +far than she had been then, and he could have watched her developing, +instead of her coming to perfection all alone. That under these +circumstances she might never have acquired that <span><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></span>polish of mind, and +strange dignity and reserve of manner which was one of her greatest +attractions, did not strike him—as it has been plainly said, he was not +given to analysis in his judgment of things.</p> + +<p>"I wish she had had a baby, Binko," he remarked, when once more seated +in his chair. "Then she would have been obliged to return at once of her +own accord."</p> + +<p>Binko grunted and slobbered his acquiescence and sympathy, with his wise +old fat head poked into his master's arm.</p> + +<p>"You are trying to tell me that as I had gone off to China, she couldn't +have done that in any case, you old scoundrel. And of course you are +right. But she did not try to, you know. There was no letter from her +among the hundreds which were waiting for me at Hong Kong—or here when +I got back. She could have sent me a cable, and I would have returned +like a shot from anywhere. But she did not want me then; she wanted to +be free—and now, when she does, her hands are already tied. The whole +cursed thing is her own fault, and that is what is the biggest pain, old +dog."</p> + +<p>Then his thoughts wandered back to their scene in Rose Forster's +sitting-room—that was pleasure indeed! And he leaned back in his big +chair and let himself dream. He could hear her words telling him that +she loved him and could feel her soft lips pressed in passion to his +own.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a></span>"My God! I can't bear it," he cried at last, once more clenching his +hands.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And so it went on through days and nights of anguish, the aspects of the +case repeating themselves in endless persistence, until with all his +will and his strong health and love of sport and vigorous work, the +agony of desire for Sabine grew into an obsession.</p> + +<p>Whatever sins he had committed in his life, indeed his punishment had +come.</p> + +<p>Sabine, for her part, found the days not worth living. Nothing in life +or nature stays at a standstill; if stagnation sets in, then death +comes—and so it was that her emotions for Michael did not remain the +same, but grew and augmented more and more as the certainty that they +were parted for ever forced itself upon her brain.</p> + +<p>They had not been back in London a day when Mr. Parsons announced to her +that at last all was going well. Mr. Arranstoun had put the matter in +train and soon she would be free. And, shrewd American that he was, he +wondered why she should get so pale. The news did not appear to be such +a very great pleasure to her after all! Her greatest concern seemed to +be that he should arrange that there should be no notice of anything in +the papers.</p> + +<p>"I particularly do not wish Lord Fordyce ever to know that my name was +Arranstoun," she said. "I <span><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a></span>will pay anything if it is necessary to stop +reports—and if such things are possible to do in this country?"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Parsons could hold out no really encouraging hopes of this. No +details would probably be known, but that Michael Arranstoun had married +a Sabine Delburg and now divorced her would certainly be announced in +the Scotch journals, where the Arranstouns and their Castle were of such +interest to the public.</p> + +<p>"If only I had been called Mary Smith!" Sabine almost moaned. "If Lord +Fordyce sees this he must realize that, although he knows me as Sabine +Howard, I was probably Sabine Delburg."</p> + +<p>"I should think you had better inform his lordship yourself at once. +There is no disgrace in the matter. Arranstoun is a very splendid name," +Mr. Parsons ventured to remind her.</p> + +<p>But Sabine shut her firm mouth. Not until it became absolutely necessary +would she do this thing.</p> + +<p>Henry's company now had no longer power to soothe her; she found herself +crushing down sudden inclinations to be capricious to him or even +unkind—and then she would feel full of remorse and regret when she saw +the pain in his fond eyes. She was thankful that they were returning to +Paris, and then she meant to go straight to Héronac, telling him he must +see her no more until she was free. It was the month of the greatest +storms there; it would suit her exactly and it was <span><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a></span>her very own. She +need not act for only Madame Imogen and Père Anselme. But when she +thought of this latter a sensation of discomfort came. How could she +read in peace with the dear old man, who was so keen and so subtle he +would certainly divine that all was not well? And ever his sentence +recurred to her: "Remember always, my daughter, that <i>le Bon Dieu</i> +settles things for us mortals if we leave it all to Him, but if we take +the helm in the direction of our own affairs, it may be that He will let +circumstance draw us into rough waters." And then, that as she had taken +the helm she must abide by her word. Bitterness and regret were her +portion—in a far greater degree than after that other crisis of her +life, when its realities had come to her, and she knew she must bear +them alone. She had been too young then to understand half the +possibilities of mental pain, and also there was no finality about +anything—all might develop into sunshine again. Now she had the most +cruel torture of all, the knowledge that she herself by her wilfulness +and pride had pulled down the blinds and brought herself into darkness, +and that there was not anything to be done.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been more unhappy than was the state of these two +young people in their separate homes. In the old days when she used to +try and banish the too lenient thoughts of Michael, she had always the +picture of his selfishness and violent passion to call up <span><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a></span>to her +aid—but that was blotted out now, and in its place there was the memory +that it was he, not she, who had behaved nobly and decided to sacrifice +all happiness to be true to his friend. Sometimes when she first got +back to Héronac she, too, allowed herself to dream of their good-bye, +and the cruel sweetness of that brief moment of bliss, and she would go +through strange thrills and quivers and stretch out her arms in the +firelight and whisper his name aloud—"Michael—my dear love!"</p> + +<p>She could not even bear the watching, affectionate eyes of Madame Imogen +and sent her to Paris on a month's holiday. The Père Anselme had been +away when she arrived, at the deathbed of an old sister at Versailles, +so she was utterly alone in her grim castle, with only the waves.</p> + +<p>The once looked-for letters from Henry were a dreaded tie now. She would +have to answer them!—and as his grew more tender and loving, so hers +unconsciously became more cold, with a note of bitterness in them +sometimes of which she was unaware.</p> + +<p>And Henry, in Paris with Moravia, wondered and grieved, and grew sick at +heart as the days went on. He had let his political ambitions slide, and +lingered there as being nearer his adored one, instead of going home.</p> + +<p>Now love was playing his sad pranks with all of them, and the Princess +Torniloni was receiving her <span><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a></span>share. The constant companionship of Henry +had not made her feelings more calm. She was really in love with him +with all that was best and greatest in her sweet nature, and it was +changing her every idea. She was even getting a little vicarious +happiness out of being a sympathetic friend, and as he grew sad and +restless, so she became more gentle and tender, and watched over him +like a fond mother with a child. She would not look ahead or face the +fact that he had grown too dear; she was living her Indian summer, she +told herself, and would not see its end.</p> + +<p>"How awfully good you are to me, Princess," he told her one afternoon, +as they walked together in the bright frosty air about a week after +Sabine had left them. "I never have known so kind a woman. You seem to +think of gentle and sympathetic things to say before one even asks for +your sympathy. How greatly I misjudged your nation before I knew you and +Sabine!"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think you did misjudge us in general," she replied. "Lots +of us are horrid when we are on the make, and those are the sorts you +generally meet in England. We would not go there, you see, if it was not +to get something. We can have everything material as good, if not +better, in our own country, only we can't get your repose, or your +atmosphere, and we are growing so much cleverer and richer every year +that we hate to think there is something we can't <span><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a></span>buy, and so we come +over to England and set to work to grab it from you!"</p> + +<p>"How delightful you are!"</p> + +<p>"I am only echoing Sabine, who has all the quaint ideas. In that pretty +young baby's head she thinks out evolution, and cause and effect, and +heredity, and every sort of deep tiresome thing!"</p> + +<p>"Have you heard from her to-day, Princess?" Henry's voice was a little +anxious. She had not written to him.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She seems to be in rather a queer mood. What has caused it, do you +know, dear friend?"</p> + +<p>"I have not the slightest idea—it has puzzled me, too," and Moravia's +voice was perplexed. "Ever since the ball at your sister's she has been +changed in some way. Had you any quarrel or—jar, or difference of +opinion? Don't think I am asking from curiosity—I am really concerned."</p> + +<p>Henry's distinguished face grew pinched-looking; it cut like a knife to +have his vague unadmitted fears put into words.</p> + +<p>"We had no discussions of any kind. She was particularly sweet, and +spent nearly the whole evening with me, as you know. Is it something +about her husband, do you think, which is troubling her? But it cannot +be that, because in her letter of two days ago she said the proceedings +had been started and she would be <span><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a></span>free perhaps by Christmastime, as all +was being hurried through."</p> + +<p>Moravia gave an exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Sabine is certainly very strange. Can you believe it? She has never +mentioned the matter to me since we returned, and once when I spoke of +it, she put the subject aside. She did not 'wish to remember it,' she +said."</p> + +<p>"It is evidently that, then, and we must have patience with the dear +little girl. The husband must have been an unmitigated wretch to have +left such a deep scar upon her life."</p> + +<p>"But she never saw him from the day after she was married!" Moravia +exclaimed; and then pulled herself up short, glancing at Henry +furtively. What had Sabine told him? Probably no more than she had told +her—she felt the subject was dangerous ground, and it would be wiser to +avoid further discussion upon the matter. So she remarked casually:</p> + +<p>"No, after all, I do not believe it has anything to do with the husband; +it is just a mood. She has always had moods for years. I know she is +looking forward awfully to our all going to her for Christmas. Then you +will be able to clear away all your clouds."</p> + +<p>But this conversation left Henry very troubled, and Père Anselme's words +about the cinders still being red kept recurring to him with increasing +pain.</p> + +<p>Sabine had been at Héronac for ten days when the <span><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a></span>old priest got back to +his flock. It was toward the end of November, and the weather was one +raging storm of rain and wind. The surf boiled round the base of the +Castle and the waves rose as giant foes ready to attack. It comforted +the mistress of it to stand upon the causeway bridge and get soaking +wet—or to sit in one of the mullioned windows of her great sitting-room +and watch the angry water thundering beneath. And here the Père Anselme +found her on the morning after his return.</p> + +<p>She rose quickly in gladness to meet him, and they sat down together +again.</p> + +<p>She spoke her sympathy for this bereavement which had caused his +absence, but he said with grave peace:</p> + +<p>"She is well, my sister—a martyr in life, she has paid her debt. I have +no grief."</p> + +<p>So they talked about the garden, and of the fisher-folk, and their +winter needs. There had been a wreck of a fishing boat, and a wife and +children would be hungry but for the kindness of their Dame d'Héronac.</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause—not one of those calm, happy pauses of other +days, when each one dreamed, but a pause wrought with unease. The Curé's +old black eyes had a questioning expression, and then he asked:</p> + +<p>"And what is it, my daughter? Your heart is not at rest."</p> + +<p>But Sabine could not answer him. Her long-con<span><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a></span>trolled anguish won the +day and, as once before, she burst into a passion of tears.</p> + +<p>The Père Anselme did not seek to comfort her; he knew women well—she +would be calmer presently, and would tell him what her sorrow was. He +only murmured some words in Latin and looked out on the sea.</p> + +<p>Presently the sobs ceased and the Dame d'Héronac rose quickly and left +the room; and when she had mastered her emotion, she came back again.</p> + +<p>"My father," she said, sitting on a low stool at his knees, "I have been +very foolish and very wicked—but I cannot talk about it. Let us begin +to read."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span> +<span class="smcap">eanwhile</span> the divorce affair went on apace. There was no defence, of +course, and Michael's lawyers were clever and his own influence was +great. So freedom would come before the end of term probably, if not +early in the New Year, and Henry felt he might begin to ask his beloved +one to name a date when he could call her his own, and endeavor to take +every shadow from her life.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>His letters all this month had been more than extra tender and devoted, +each one showing that his whole desire was only for Sabine's welfare, +and each one, as she read it, put a fresh stab into her heart and seemed +like an extra fetter in the chain binding her to him.</p> + +<p>She knew she was really the mainspring of his life and she could not, +did not, dare to face what might be the consequence of her parting from +him. Besides, the die was cast and she must have the courage to go +through with it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Parsons had let her know definitely that the bare fact of her name +would appear in the papers, and noth<span><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a></span>ing more; and at first the thought +came to her that if it had made no impression upon Henry's memory, when +he must have read it originally in the notice of the marriage, why +should it strike him now? But this was too slender a thread to hang hope +upon, and it would be wiser and better for them all if when Lord Fordyce +came with Moravia and Girolamo and Mr. Cloudwater at Christmas, she told +him the whole truth. The dread of this augmented day by day, until it +became a nightmare and she had to use the whole force of her will to +keep even an outward semblance of calm.</p> + +<p>Thoughts of Michael she dismissed as well as she could, but she had +passionate longings to go and take out the blue enamel locket from her +despatch-box and look at it once more; she would not permit herself to +indulge in this weakness, though. Her whole days were ruled with +sternest discipline until she became quite thin, and the Père Anselme +grew worried about her.</p> + +<p>A fortnight went by; it was growing near to Christmastime—but the +atmosphere of Héronac contained no peace, and one bleak afternoon the +old priest paced the long walk in the garden with knitted brows. He did +not feel altogether sure as to what was his duty. He was always on the +side of leaving things in the hand of the good God, but it might be that +he would be selected to be an instrument of fate, since he seemed the +only detached person with any authority in the affair.</p> + +<p>His Dame d'Héronac had tried hard to be natural <span><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a></span>and her old self, he +could see that, but her taste in their reading had been over much +directed to Heine, she having brought French translations of this poet's +works back with her from Paris.</p> + +<p>Twice also had she asked him to recite to her De Musset's "<i>La Nuit de +Décembre</i>." He did not consider these as satisfactory symptoms. There +was no question in his astute mind as to what was the general cause of +his beloved lady's unrest. The change in her had begun to take place +ever since the fatal visit of the two Englishmen. Herein lay matter for +thought. For the very morning before their arrival she had been +particularly bright and gay, telling him of her intended action in +making arrangements to free herself from her empty marriage bonds, and +apparently contemplating a new life with Lord Fordyce with satisfaction. +Père Anselme was a great student of Voltaire and looked upon his tale of +"Zadig" as one from which much benefit could be derived. And now he +began to put the method of this citizen of Babylon into practice, never +having heard of the immortal Sherlock Holmes.</p> + +<p>The end of his cogitations directed upon this principle brought him two +concrete facts.</p> + +<p>Number one: That Sabine had been deeply affected by the presence of the +second Englishman—the handsome and vital young man—and number two: +That she was now certainly regretting that she was going to obtain her +divorce. Further use of Zadig's deductive <span><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a></span>method produced the +conviction that, as an abstract young man would be equally out of reach +were she still bound to her husband—or married to Lord Fordyce—and +could only be obtained were she divorced—some other reason for her +distaste and evident depression about this latter state coming to her +must be looked for, and could only be found in the supposition that the +Seigneur of Arranstoun might be himself her husband! Why, then, this +mystery? Why had not he and she told the truth? Zadig's counsel could +not help him to unravel this point, and he continued to pace the walk +with impatient sighs.</p> + +<p>He was even more of a gentleman than of a priest, and therefore forbore +to question Sabine directly, but that afternoon, with the intention of +directing her mind into facing eventualities, he had talked of Lord +Fordyce, and what would be the duties of her future position as his +wife. Sabine replied without enthusiasm in her tones, while her words +gave a picture of all that any woman's heart could desire:</p> + +<p>"He is a very fine character, it would seem," the Père Anselme said. +"And he loves you with a deep devotion."</p> + +<p>Sabine clasped her hands suddenly, as though the thought gave her +physical pain.</p> + +<p>"He loves me too much, Father; no woman should be loved like that; it +fills her with fear."</p> + +<p>"Fear of what?"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a></span>"Fear of failing to come up to the standard of his ideal of her—fear +of breaking his heart."</p> + +<p>"I told him in the beginning it were wiser to be certain all cinders +were cold before embarking upon fresh ties," Père Anselme remarked +meditatively, "and he assured me that he would ascertain facts, and +whether or no you felt he could make you happy."</p> + +<p>"And he did," Sabine's voice was strained. "And I told him that he +could—if he would help me to forget—and I gave him my word and let +him—kiss me, Father—so I am bound to him irrevocably, as you can see."</p> + +<p>"It would seem so."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and then the priest got up and held his thin brown +hands to the blaze, his eyes averted from her while he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You must look to the end, my daughter, and ask yourself whether or no +you will be strong enough to play your part in the years which are +coming—since, from what I can judge, the embers are not yet cold. +Temptation will arm for you with increasing strength. What then?"</p> + +<p>"I do—not know," Sabine whispered hardly aloud.</p> + +<p>"It will be necessary to be quite sure, my daughter, before you again +make vows."</p> + +<p>And then he turned the conversation abruptly, which was his way when he +intended what he had said to sink deeply into the heart of his listener.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a></span>But just as he was leaving after tea he drew the heavy curtains back +from one of the great windows. All was inky darkness, and the roaring of +the sea with its breakers foaming beneath them, came up like the +menacing voices of an angry crowd.</p> + +<p>"The good God can calm even this rough water," he said. "It would be +well that you ask for guidance, my child, and when it has come to you, +hesitate no more."</p> + +<p>Then, making his sign of blessing, he rapidly strode to the door, +leaving the Dame d'Héronac crouched upon the velvet window-seat, peering +out upon the waves.</p> + +<p>And Michael, numb with misery and regret, was deciding to go to Paris +for Christmas. The memories at Arranstoun he could not endure.</p> + +<p>The great suffering that he was going through was having some effect +upon his mind, refining him in all ways, forcing him to think and to +reason out all problems of life. The great dreams which used to come to +him sometimes when in Kashmire during solitary hours of watching for +sport returned. He would surely do something vast with his life—when +this awful pain should be past. What, he could not decide—but something +which would take him out of himself. He did not think he could stay in +England just at first after Sabine should have married Henry—the +chances of running across her would be too great, since they both knew +the same people.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a></span>Henry would read about the divorce and the name "Sabine Delburg" in the +paper, too, and would then know everything, even if Sabine had not +already informed him. But he almost thought she must have done so, +because he had had no word lately from his old friend. Thus the time +went on for all of them, and none but the priest felt any premonition +that Christmas would certainly bring a climax in all of their fates.</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce had hardly ever spent this season away from his mother, who +was a very old lady now, and deeply devoted to him; but the imperative +desire to be near his adored overcame any other feeling, and he, with +the Princess and her son and father, was due to arrive at Héronac on the +day before Christmas Eve.</p> + +<p>He ran across Michael at the Ritz the night before he left Paris. They +were both dining with parties, and nodded across the room, and then +afterwards in the hall had a few words.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow I am going down to Héronac, Michael," Henry said. "Where do +you intend to spend the festive season? Here, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is as good as anywhere," Michael returned. "I felt I could not +stand the whole thing at Arranstoun. I have been away from England so +long, I must get used to these old anniversaries again gradually. Here +one is free."</p> + +<p>They looked into each other's faces and Henry noticed that Michael had +not quite got his old exuberant <span><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a></span>expression of the vivid joy of life—he +was paler and even a little haggard, if so splendid a creature could +look that!</p> + +<p>"I suppose he has been going the pace over here," Henry thought, and +wondered why Michael's manner should be a little constrained. Then they +shook hands with their usual cordiality and said good-night. And Michael +prepared to go on to a supper party, with a feeling of wild rebellion in +his heart. The sight of his old friend and the knowledge that he was on +his way to join Sabine drove him almost mad again.</p> + +<p>"I suppose they will be formally engaged in the New Year. I wonder how +my little girl is bearing it—if she is half as miserable as I am, God +comfort her," he cried to himself; and then he felt he could not stand +Miss Daisy Van der Horn, and getting into his motor he told the +chauffeur to drive into the Bois instead of to the supper.</p> + +<p>Here among the dark trees he could think. It was all perfectly +impossible, and no happiness could possibly come to Henry either—unless +he succeeded in consoling Sabine when she should be his wife. And this +was perhaps the bitterest thought of all—that she should ever be +consoled as Henry's wife!</p> + +<p>Then the extreme strangeness of Henry's still being in ignorance of his +and Sabine's relations struck him. She had evidently not yet had the +courage to tell the truth, and so the thing would come as a shock—and +<span><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a></span>what would happen then? Who could say? In any case, Henry could not +feel he had not come up to the scratch. Would Sabine ever tell Henry the +whole story? He felt sure she would not. But how could things be +expected to go on with the years? It was all unthinkable now that it had +come so close.</p> + +<p>It was about five o'clock on the next afternoon that the Princess and +her party arrived at Héronac. Sabine was waiting for them in the great +hall, and greeted them with feverish delight, but Henry's worshipping +eyes took in at once the fact that she was greatly changed. She made a +tremendous fuss over Girolamo, for whom a most sumptuous tea had been +prepared in his own nurseries, and Henry thought how sweet she was with +children and how divinely happy they would be in the future, when they +had some of their own!</p> + +<p>But what had altered his beloved? Her face had lost its baby outline, it +seemed, and her violet eyes were full of deeper shadows than even they +had been in the first few days of their acquaintance at Carlsbad. He +must find all this out for himself directly they could be alone.</p> + +<p>This chance, however, did not seem likely to be vouchsafed to him, for +on the plea of having such heaps to talk over with Moravia, Sabine +accompanied that lady to her room and did not appear again until they +were all assembled in the big <i>salon</i> for dinner, <span><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a></span>where Madame Imogen, +who had returned the day before, was doing her best to add to the gaiety +of the party by her jolly remarks.</p> + +<p>The lady of Héronac had hardly been able to control herself as she +waited for her guests' arrival and felt that to rush at Girolamo would +be her only hope. For that morning the post had brought the news that +the divorce would be granted by the end of January, and she would be +free! She had felt very faint as she had read Mr. Parsons' letter. No +matter how one might be expecting an axe to fall, when it does, the +shock must seem immense.</p> + +<p>Sabine lay there and moaned in her bed. Then over her crept a fierce +resentment against Henry. Why should she be sacrificed to him? He was +forty years old, and had lived his life; and she was young, and had not +yet really begun to enjoy her's. How would she be able to bear it; or to +act even complaisance when every fiber of her being was turning in mad +passion and desire to Michael, her love?</p> + +<p>Then her sense of justice resumed its sway. Henry at least was not to +blame—no one was to blame but her own self. And as she had proudly +agreed with Michael that every one must come up to the scratch, she must +fulfil her part. There was no use in being dramatic and deciding upon a +certain course as being a noble and disinterested one, and then in not +having the pluck to carry it through. She had prayed for guidance +in<span><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a></span>deed, and no light had come, beyond the feeling that she must stick +to her word.</p> + +<p>The report of the case would be in the Scotch papers, and Michael +Arranstoun being such a person of consequence it would probably be just +announced in the English journals, too, and Henry would see it. She +could delay no longer; he must be told the truth in the next few days.</p> + +<p>The sight of his kind, distinguished face shining with love had unnerved +her. She must tell him with all seeming indifference, and then close the +scene as quickly as she could.</p> + +<p>While Sabine and Moravia talked in the latter's room, Moravia was full +of discomfort and anxiety. Her much loved friend appeared so strange. +She seemed to speak feverishly, as it were, to be trying to keep the +conversation upon the lightest subjects; and when Moravia asked her how +the divorce was going, she put the question aside and said that they +would speak of tiresome things like that when Christmas was over!</p> + +<p>"But," explained the Princess, "I don't call it at all tiresome. It +means your freedom, Sabine, and then you will be able to marry Henry. He +absolutely worships the ground you tread on, and if anything had gone +wrong, I think it would have simply killed him quite."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," returned Sabine. "That thought is with me day and night."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, darling?"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a></span>"I mean that Henry's love frightens me, Morri. How shall I ever be able +to live up to being the ideal creature he thinks that I am?" and Sabine +gave a forced laugh.</p> + +<p>"You are not a bad sort, you know," the Princess told her. "A man would +be very hard to please if he was not quite satisfied with you!"</p> + +<p>Moravia's own pain about the whole thing never clouded her sense of +justice. Henry's love for her friend had been manifest from the very +beginning, so she had never had any illusions or doubt about it; and if +she had been so weak and foolish as to allow herself to fall in love +with him, she must bear it and not be mean. Sabine certainly was not to +blame.</p> + +<p>"I—hope I shall satisfy him," Sabine sighed; "but I do not know. What +does satisfy a man? Tell me, Moravia—you who understand them."</p> + +<p>"It depends upon the man," and the Princess looked thoughtful. "I know +now that if I had been clever I could have satisfied Girolamo for ages, +by appearing to be always just a little out of his reach, so as to keep +his hunting instinct alive. When a man is a very strong, passionate +creature like that, it is the only way—make him scheme to get you to be +lovely to him, make him wait, and never be sure if you are going to let +him kiss you or no; and if you adore him really yourself, <i>hide it</i>, and +let him feel always that he has to use his wits and all his charms to +keep you. Oh! I could <span><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a></span>have been so happy if I had known these things in +time!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Morri, but Henry is not—like that. How must I satisfy him?"</p> + +<p>Moravia lay back in her chair and discoursed meditatively.</p> + +<p>"It is only the very noblest natures in men that women can be perfectly +frank with, and as good and kind and tender as they feel they would like +to be. Lord Fordyce is one of these. You could load him with devotion +and love, and he would never take advantage of you; but just to satisfy +him, Sabine, you need only be you, I expect!" and she looked fondly at +her friend. "Though, darling, I tell you, if you were too nice to him, +even he might turn upon you some day, probably. No woman can afford to +be really devoted to a man; they can't help being mean, and immediately +thinking the poor thing is of less consequence to please than some +capricious cat they cannot obtain!"</p> + +<p>Sabine nodded, and Moravia went on: "But you need not fear! Henry will +adore you always—because you really don't care!" and she sighed a +little bitterly at the contrariness of things.</p> + +<p>"It is good not to care, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so; for happiness in a home, the woman ought always to +love a little the less."</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall be very happy, then," and Sabine echoed Moravia's sigh, +but much more bitterly.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a></span>"You will be good to him, dearest?" Moravia asked rather anxiously. "He +is the grandest character I have ever met in my life."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will be good to him."</p> + +<p>"Just think!" Moravia, who had domestic instincts, now went on, in spite +of the personal anguish she was feeling about her own love for Henry. +"You may have the happiness soon of being the mother of a lovely little +son like Girolamo!" and she gave a great sigh as she looked into the +fire.</p> + +<p>Sabine stiffened all over, and an expression of horrified repugnance and +dismay grew in her face, and she drew her breath in with a little gasp. +She had not faced this thought before, and she could not bear it now, +and got up quickly, saying she must go off and dress or she would be +late for dinner.</p> + +<p>Moravia looked after her, full of wonder and foreboding for Henry. What +happiness could he expect if the woman he adored felt like that!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">C</span> +<span class="smcap">hristmas</span> Eve was particularly frosty and bright. The sun poured through +Sabine's windows high up when she woke, but her heart was heavy as lead. +She had not had a single word alone with Henry the night before, and +knew the dreaded <i>tête-à-tête</i> must come. She did not set herself to +tell him who her husband was on this particular morning—about that she +must be guided by events—but she could not make barriers between them, +and must allow him to come to her sitting-room. He did, about half-past +ten o'clock, his face full of radiance and love. She had always +steadfastly refused to take any presents from him, but he had had the +most beautiful flowers sent from Paris for her, and they had just +arrived. She was taking them out of their box herself. This made a +pretext for her to express delighted thanks, and for a little she played +her part so well that all Henry's doubts were set at rest, and he told +himself that he had been imaginative and foolish to think that anything +was changed in her.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>He helped her to put all the lovely blooms into vases, <span><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a></span>so happy to +think they should give her pleasure. And all the while he talked to her +lovingly and soothingly, until Sabine could have screamed aloud, so full +of remorse and constraint she felt. If he would only be disagreeable or +unkind!</p> + +<p>At last, among the giant violets, they came upon one bunch of white +ones. These she took and separated, and, making them into two, she stuck +one into her belt and gave Henry the other to put into his coat.</p> + +<p>"Won't you fasten them in for me, dearest?" he said, his whole +countenance full of passionate love.</p> + +<p>She came nearer, and with hasty fingers put the flowers into his +buttonhole.</p> + +<p>The temptation was too great for Henry. He put his arm round her and +drew her to his side, while he bent and kissed her sweet red mouth.</p> + +<p>She did not resist him or start away, but she grew white as death, and +he was conscious that, as he clasped her close, a repressed shudder ran +through her whole frame.</p> + +<p>With a little cry of anguish he put her from him, and searched with +miserable eyes for some message in her face. But her lids were lowered +and her lips were quivering with some pain.</p> + +<p>"My darling, what is it? Sabine, you shrank from me! What does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"It means—nothing, Henry." And the poor child tried to smile. "Only +that I am very foolish and silly, <span><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a></span>and I do not believe I like +caresses—much." And then, to make things sound more light, she went on: +"You see, I have had so few of them in my life. You must be patient with +me until I learn to—understand."</p> + +<p>Of course he would be patient, he assured her, and asked her to forgive +him if he had been brusque, his refined voice full of adoring +contrition. He caught at any gossamer thread to stifle the obvious +thought that if she loved him even ever so little he would not have to +accustom her to caresses; she would long ago have been willing to learn +all of their meanings in his arms!—and this was only the second time +during their acquaintance that she had even let him kiss her!</p> + +<p>But of her own free will she now came and leaned her head against his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Henry," she pleaded, "I am not really as I know you think I am—a +gentle and loving woman. There are all sorts of fierce sides in my +character which you have not an idea of, and I am only beginning to +guess at them myself. I do not know that I shall ever be able to make +you happy. I am sure I shall not unless you will be contented with very +little."</p> + +<p>"The smallest tip of your finger is more precious to me than all the +world, darling!" he protested with heat. "I will be patient. I will be +anything you wish. I will not even touch you again until you give me +leave. Oh! I adore you so—Sabine, I will bear anything if only you do +not mean that you want to send me away."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a></span>The anguish and fond worship in his face wrung her heart. She started +from him and then, returning, held out her arms, while she cried with a +pitiful gasp, almost as of a sob in her throat:</p> + +<p>"Yes—take me and kiss me—kiss me until I don't feel!—I mean until I +feel—Henry, you said you would make me forget!"</p> + +<p>He encircled her with his arm and led her to a sofa, murmuring every vow +of passionate love; and here he sat by her and kissed her and caressed +her to his heart's content, while she remained apparently passive, but +still as white as the violets in her dress, and inwardly she could +hardly keep from screaming, the torture of it was so great. At last she +could bear no more, but disengaging herself from his arms she slipped on +to the floor, and there sat upon a low footstool, with her back to the +fire, shivering as though with icy cold.</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce's instincts were too fine not to realize something of the +meaning of this scene. Although not greatly learned in the ways of +women, he had kissed them often before in his life, and none had +received his caresses like that. But since she did not repulse him, he +must not despair. She perhaps was, as she said, unused to fond +dalliance, and he must be more controlled, and wait. So with an inward +sense of pain and chill in his heart, he set himself to divert her +otherwise, talking of the books which they both loved, and so at last, +when<span><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a></span> Nicholas announced that déjeuner was ready, some color and +animation had come back to her face.</p> + +<p>But when she was alone in her room she looked out of the high window and +passionately threw up her arms.</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear it again!" she wailed fiercely. "I feel an utterly +degraded wretch."</p> + +<p>At breakfast the Père Anselme watched her intently while he kept his +aloof air. He felt that something extra had disturbed her. He was to +stay in the house with them on Christmas night, because it was so cold +for him to return to his home after dinner, and Sabine could not +possibly spare him; she assured him he must be with them at every meal. +His wit was so apt, and with Madame Imogen's aid he kept the ball +rolling as merrily as he could. But he, no less than Henry, was +conscious that all was not well.</p> + +<p>And afterwards, as he went towards the village, he communed with +himself, his kind heart torn with the deep-seated look of resignation in +the eyes of his Dame d'Héronac.</p> + +<p>"She is too young to be made to suffer it," he said, half aloud. "The +good God cannot ask so much, as a price for wilfulness; and if this man +has grown as distasteful to her as her face seems to suggest, nothing +but misery could come from their dual life." It was all very cruel to +the Englishman, no doubt, but where was the wisdom of letting two people +suffer? Surely it was better to let only one pay the stakes, and if this +<span><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a></span>thing went on, both would have equal unhappiness, and be tied together +as two animals in a menagerie cage.</p> + +<p>No gentleman should accept such a sacrifice. If the Lord Fordyce did not +realize for himself that something had changed things, it must be that +he, Gaston d'Héronac, the Père Anselme, must intervene. It might be very +fine and noble to stick to one's word, but it became quixotic if to do +so could only bring misery to oneself and one's mate!</p> + +<p>The good priest stalked on to his <i>presbytère</i>, and then to his church, +to see that all should be ready for <i>réveillon</i> that night, and he was +returning to the château to tea when he met Henry taking a walk.</p> + +<p>After lunch Sabine had gone off with Moravia to Girolamo's nurseries, +and Lord Fordyce had felt he must go out and get some air. Mr. +Cloudwater had started with Madame Imogen in the motor on a commission +to their little town directly they had all left the dining-room. Thus +Henry was alone.</p> + +<p>He greeted the Père Anselme gladly. The old priest's cultivated mind was +to him always a source of delight.</p> + +<p>So he turned back and walked with him into the garden and along by the +sea wall, instead of across the causeway and to the house. This was the +doing of the Père Anselme, for he felt now might be his time.</p> + +<p>Henry had been growing more and more troubled while he had been out by +himself. He could not disguise the fact that there was some great change +in Sa<span><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a></span>bine, and now his anxious mood craved sympathy and counsel from +this her great friend.</p> + +<p>"Madame Howard does not look quite well, Father," he remarked, after +they had pulled some modern philosophies to pieces, and there had been a +pause. "She is so nervous—what is the cause of it, do you know? Perhaps +this place does not suit her in the winter. It is so very cold."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is cold—but that is not the reason." And the Père Anselme drew +closer his old black cloak. "There are other and stronger causes for the +state in which we find the Dame Sabine."</p> + +<p>Henry peered into his face anxiously in the gray light—it was four +o'clock, the day would soon be gone. He knew that these words contained +ominous meaning, and his voice was rather unsteady as he asked:</p> + +<p>"What are the reasons, Father? Please tell me if you are at liberty to +do so. To me the welfare of this dear lady is all that matters in life."</p> + +<p>The Curé of Héronac cleared his throat, and then he said gently:</p> + +<p>"I spoke once before to you about the cinders and as to whether or no +they were still red. That is what causes her to be restless—she has +found that they are yet alight."</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce was a brave man, but he grew very pale. It seemed that +suddenly all the fears which his heart had sheltered, though would not +own as facts, <span><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a></span>were rising before him like giant skeletons, concrete and +distinct.</p> + +<p>"But the divorce is going well!" he exclaimed a little passionately, his +hurt was so great. "She told me so last night; she will be free some +time in January, and will then be my wife."</p> + +<p>His happiness should not be torn from him without a desperate fight.</p> + +<p>The priest's voice was very sad as he answered:</p> + +<p>"That is so. She will, no doubt, be ready to marry you whenever you ask +it is for you to demand of yourself whether you will accept her +sacrifice."</p> + +<p>"Sacrifice! I would never dream of any sacrifice. It is unthinkable, +Father!"</p> + +<p>Anguish now distraught Henry's soul; he stopped in his walk and looked +full at the priest, his fine, distinguished face working with suffering. +The Père Anselme thought to himself that he would have done very well +for the model of a martyr of old. It distressed him deeply to see his +pain and to know that there would be more to come.</p> + +<p>"Her happiness is all that I care for—surely you know this—but what +has caused this change? Has she seen her husband again?—I——" Here +Henry stopped, a sense of stupefaction set in. What could it all mean?</p> + +<p>"We have never spoken upon the matter," the priest answered him. "I +cannot say, but I think—yes, she has <span><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a></span>certainly come under his +influence again. Have you never searched in your mind, Monsieur, to ask +yourself who this husband could be?"</p> + +<p>"No—! How should I have done so? I have never been in America in my +life." And then Henry's haggard eyes caught a look in the old priest's +face. "My God!" he cried, agony in his voice, "you would suggest that it +is some one I may know!"</p> + +<p>"I suggest nothing, Monsieur. I make my own deductions from events. Will +you not do the same?"</p> + +<p>Henry covered his eyes with his hands. It seemed as though reason were +slipping from him; and then, like a flash of lightning which cleared his +brain, the reality struck him.</p> + +<p>"It is Michael Arranstoun," he said with a moan.</p> + +<p>"We know nothing for certain," proclaimed the Père Anselme. "But the +alteration began from this young man's visit. That is why I warned you +to well ascertain the truth of her feelings before going further. I +would have saved you pain."</p> + +<p>Henry staggered to the wall of the summer-house and leant there. His +face was ashen-gray in the afternoon's dying light.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how hopelessly blind I have been!"</p> + +<p>The priest unclasped his tightly-locked hands; his old eyes were full of +pity as he answered:</p> + +<p>"We may both have made mistakes. You are more aware of the circumstances +than I am. The Seigneur <span><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a></span>of Arranstoun is the only man she has seen here +besides yourself. You perhaps know whom she met in England, or Paris?"</p> + +<p>"It is Michael Arranstoun," Henry said in a voice strangled and altered +with suffering. "I see every link in the chain—but, O God! why have +they deceived me? What can it mean? What hideous, fiendish cruelty! And +Michael was my old friend."</p> + +<p>A wild rage and resentment convulsed him. He only felt that he wished to +kill both these traitors, who had tricked him and destroyed his beliefs +and his happiness. Ghastly thoughts that there might be further +disclosures of more shameful deceptions to come shook him. He was +trembling with passion—and then the priest said something in his grave, +quiet voice which almost stunned him.</p> + +<p>"Has it been done in cruelty, my son? You must examine well the facts +before you assert that. You must not forget that whoever the husband may +be, he has consented to divorce her, and she is now going to give +herself to you. Is that cruelty, my son? Or is it a fine keeping to a +given word? It looks to me more like a noble sacrifice, unless the +Seigneur of Arranstoun was aware before he ever came here that Madame +Howard was his wife."</p> + +<p>Lord Fordyce controlled himself. This thing must be thought out.</p> + +<p>"No, Michael could not have known it," after a mo<span><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a></span>ment or two he +averred. "He even laughed over the name when I told it to him, and said +he had a scapegrace cousin out in Arizona and wondered if the husband +could be the same——"</p> + +<p>Then further recollections came with a frightful stab of anguish, +crushing all passion and anger and leaving only a sensation of pain, for +he remembered that his friend had given him his word of honor that he +would not interfere with him in his love-making—and, indeed, would help +him in every way he could, even to lending him Arranstoun for the +honeymoon! That letter of his, too, when he had gone from Héronac, +saying in it casually he hoped that he, Henry, thought that he had +played the game!—Yes, it was all perfectly plain. Michael had come +there in all innocence, and could not be blamed. He remembered numbers +of things unnoticed at the time—his own talk with Sabine when he had +discussed Michael's marriage—and this brought him up suddenly to her +side of the question. Why, in heaven's name, had she not told him the +truth at once? Why had she pretended not to recognize Michael? For, +however Michael might have started, since he, Henry, was not looking at +him, Sabine, whose face he had been gazing into all the while, had shown +no faintest recognition of him. What a superb actress she must be!—or +perhaps, having only seen him those two times in her life, for those +short moments, she really did not recognize him then. The whole thing +was so staggering in <span><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a></span>its hideous tragedy his brain almost refused to +think; but he said this last thought aloud, and the priest's strange +sudden silence struck even his numbed sense.</p> + +<p>"She had only seen him for such a little while—they parted immediately +after the wedding; it was merely an empty ceremony, you know. Why, then, +should she have had any haunting memories of him?"</p> + +<p>The Père Anselme avoided answering this question by asking another.</p> + +<p>"You knew that the Seigneur of Arranstoun was wedded, it would seem. How +was that?"</p> + +<p>Then Henry told him the outline of Michael's story, and the cruel irony +of fate in having made him himself leave the house before seeing Sabine +struck them both.</p> + +<p>"What can her reasons have been for not telling me all this time, +Father?" the unhappy man asked at last, in a hopeless voice. "Can you in +any way guess?"</p> + +<p>The Père Anselme mused for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I have my own thoughts upon the matter, my son. We who live lonely +lives very close to Nature get into the way of studying things. I have, +as I told you, made some deductions, but, if you will permit me to give +you some counsel, I would tell you to go back to the château now, with +no <i>parti pris</i>, and seek her immediately, and get her to tell you the +whole truth yourself. Of what good for you and me to speculate, since we +neither of us know all the facts?—or even, if our suppositions are +correct——" Then, as Lord Fordyce hesitated, he con<span><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a></span>tinued: "The time +has passed for reticence. There should be no more avoiding of feared +subjects. Go, go, my son, and discover the entire truth."</p> + +<p>"And what then!" The cry came from Henry's agonized heart. But the +priest answered gravely:</p> + +<p>"That is in the hand of God. My duty is done."</p> + +<p>And so they returned in silence, the Père Anselme praying fervently to +himself. And when they reached the house, Lord Fordyce stumbled up the +stone stairs heavily and knocked at the door of Sabine's sitting-room. +He had seen Moravia at her window in the inner building, and knew that +this woman who held his life in her hand would be alone.</p> + +<p>Then, in response to a gentle "<i>Entrez</i>" he opened the door and went in.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sabine had been sitting at her writing-table, an open blue despatch-box +at her side. She was at the far end of the great apartment, so that +Henry had some way to go toward her in the gloom, as, but for the large +lamp near her and the blazing wood fire at each end, there was no light +in the vast room. She rose to meet him, a gentle smile upon her face, +and then, when he came close to her, she realized that something had +happened, and suddenly put her hand out to steady herself upon the back +of a chair.</p> + +<p>"Henry—what is it?" she said, in a very low voice.<span><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a></span> "Come, let us go +over there and sit down," and she drew him to the same sofa where that +very morning they had sat when she had let him kiss her. This thought +was extra pain.</p> + +<p>He was so very quiet he frightened her, and his gray eyes looked into +hers with such a world of despair, but no reproach.</p> + +<p>"Sabine," he commanded in a voice out of which had vanished all life and +hope, "tell me the whole story, my dear love."</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands convulsively—so the dreaded moment had come! +There would be no use in making any excuses or protestations, her duty +now was to master herself and collect her words to tell him the truth. +The utter misery in his noble face wrung her heart, so that her voice +trembled too much to speak at first; then she controlled it and began.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>So all was told at last.</p> + +<p>Then Henry took her two cold hands again and drew her up with him as he +rose.</p> + +<p>"Sabine," he said with deep emotion, his heart at breaking point, but +all thought of himself put aside in the supreme unselfishness of his +worship; "Sabine, to-morrow I will prove to you what true love means. +But now, my dearest, I will say good-night. I think I must <span><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a></span>go to my +room for a little; this has been a tremendous shock."</p> + +<p>He bent and kissed her forehead with reverence and blessing, as her +father might have done, and, hiding all further emotion, he walked +steadily from the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span> +<span class="smcap">hen</span> Lord Fordyce found himself alone, it felt as if life itself must +leave him, the agony of pain was so great, the fiendish irony of +circumstances. It almost seemed that each time he had intended to do a +good thing, he had been punished. He had left Arranstoun for the best +motive, and so had not seen Sabine and thus saved himself from future +pain; he had taken Michael to Héronac out of kindly friendship, and this +had robbed him of his happiness. But, awful as the discovery was now, it +was not half so terrible as it would have been if the truth had only +come to him later, when Sabine had become his wife. He must be thankful +for that. Things had always been inevitable; it was plain to be +understood that she had loved Michael all along, and nothing he +personally could have done with all his devotion could have changed this +fact. He ought to have known that it was hopeless and that he was only +living in a fool's paradise. Never once had he seen the light in her +eyes for himself which sprang there even at the mention of Michael's +name. What was this tremendous power this man pos<span><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a></span>sessed to so deeply +affect women, to so greatly charm every one? Was it just "it," as the +Princess had said? Anguish now fell upon Henry; there was no consolation +anywhere to be found.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>He went over again all the details of the story he had heard, and +himself filled up the links in the chain. How brutal it was of Michael +to have induced her to stay—even if she remained of her own accord—and +then the frightful thoughtless recklessness of letting her go off +afterwards just because he was angry! Wild fury blazed up against his +old friend. The poor darling little girl to be left to suffer all alone! +Oh! how tender and passionately devoted he would have been under the +same circumstances. Would Michael ever make her happy or take proper +care of her? He paced his room, his mind racked with pain. Every single +turn of events came back to him, and his own incredible blindness. How +had he been so unseeing? How, to begin with, had he not recalled the +name of Sabine as being the one he had read long ago in the paper as +that of the girl whom Michael had gone through the ceremony of marriage +with? It had faded completely from his memory. Everything seemed to have +combined to lead him on to predestined disaster and misery—even in +Sabine's and Michael's combining to keep the matter secret from him not +to cause him pain—all had augmented the suffering now. If—but there +was no good in contemplating ifs—what he had to do was to think clearly +as to what <span><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a></span>would be the wisest course to secure his darling's +happiness. That must be his first consideration. After that, he must +face his own cruel fate with what courage he could command.</p> + +<p>Her happiness could only come through the divorce proceedings being +stopped at once, and in her being free to go back to the man whom she +loved. Then the aspect that Michael had been willing to do a really fine +thing for the sake of friendship struck him—perhaps he was worthy of +Sabine, after all; and they were young and absolutely suited to one +another. No, the wickedness would have been if he, whose youth had +passed, had claimed her and come between. He was only now going through +the same agony his friend must have done, and he had a stronger motive +to help him, in the wish to secure the joy of this adored woman, whereas +Michael knew he was condemning her to sorrow as well as himself, and had +been strong enough to do it simply from honor and friendship. No, he had +no right to think of him as brutal or not fine; and now it was for him, +Henry, to bring back happiness to his darling and to his old friend.</p> + +<p>He sat down in a chair beside the fire and set himself to think. To have +to take some decided course came as a relief. He would go out into the +village and telegraph to Michael to come to Héronac at once. He was in +Paris, staying at the Ritz, he knew; he could be there to-morrow—on +Christmas Day! Surely that was well, <span><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a></span>when peace and good-will towards +men should be over all the earth—and he, Henry, would meet him at the +house of the Père Anselme and explain all to him, and then take him back +to Sabine. He would not see her again until then.</p> + +<p>He found telegraph forms on his writing-table and rapidly wrote out his +message. "Come immediately by first train, meet me at house of Père +Anselme, a matter of gravest importance to you and Sabine," and he +signed it "Fordyce." Then he firmly controlled himself and went off with +it into the night.</p> + +<p>The cold air struck his face and confronted him with its fierceness; the +wind was getting up; to-morrow the waves would again be rough.</p> + +<p>The village was not far away, and he soon had reached his goal and sent +the telegram. Then he stopped at the <i>presbytère</i>. He must speak once +more to the priest. The Père Anselme led him in to his bare little +parlor and drew him to the warm china stove. It was only two hours since +they had parted, but Lord Fordyce looked like an old man.</p> + +<p>"I have come to tell you, my Father," he said, "that I know all of the +story now, and it is terrible enough; but I want you to help me to +secure her happiness. Michael Arranstoun is her husband, as you +supposed, and she loves him." The old priest nodded his head +comprehendingly, and Henry went on. "They only parted to save me pain. +It was a tremendous sacrifice <span><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a></span>which, of course, I cannot accept. So now +I have sent for him, and I want you to let me meet him here at your +house, and explain everything to him to-morrow before he sees her. I +hope, if he gets my telegram in time, he will catch the train from Paris +at midnight to-night; it gets in about nine in the morning. Then they +can be happy on Christmas Day."</p> + +<p>"You have done nobly, my son," and the Père Anselme lifted his hand in +blessing. "It is very merciful that this has been in time. You will not +be permitted to suffer beyond your strength since you have done well. +The good God is beyond all things, just. My home is at your service—And +how is she, our dear Dame d'Héronac? Does she know that her husband will +come?"</p> + +<p>"She knows nothing. I told her we should settle all questions to-morrow. +She offered to keep her word to me, the dear child."</p> + +<p>"And she told you the whole story? She had the courage? Yes? That was +fine of her, because she has never spoken of all her sorrows directly, +even to me."</p> + +<p>"She told me everything, Father. There are no secrets any more; and her +story is a pitiful one, because she was so young."</p> + +<p>"It is possible it has been well for them," the priest said +meditatively, looking into the glowing fire in the stove whose door he +had opened. "They were too young and undisciplined at first for +happiness—they have come through so much suffering now they will cling +to each <span><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a></span>other and joy and not let it slip from their hands. She is more +suited to such a one as the Seigneur of Arranstoun than any other—there +is a vigor of youth in her which must find expression. And it is +something to be of noble blood, after all." Here he turned and looked +contemplatively at Henry. "It makes one able to surmount anguish and +remain a gentleman with manners, even at such a cruel crisis as this. +You have all my deep understanding and sympathy, my son. I, too, have +passed that way, and know your pain. But consolation will come. I find +it here in the cure of souls—you will find it in your England, leading +your fellow countrymen to finer ends. It is not for all of us, the glory +of the dawn or the meridian, but we can all secure a sunset of blessed +peace if we will." And then, as Henry wrung his thin old hand, he +muttered with tenderness, "Good-night, and <i>pax vobiscum</i>," while a +moisture glistened in his keen black eyes.</p> + +<p>And when the door was closed upon his guest he turned back into his +little room, this thought going on with him:</p> + +<p>"A great gentleman—though my Dame d'Héronac will be happier with the +fierce one. Youth must have its day, and all is well."</p> + +<p>But Henry, striding in the dark with the sound of the rushing sea for +company, found no consolation.</p> + +<p>When he got back to the château and was going up the chief staircase to +his room, he met Moravia coming <span><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a></span>down. She had just left Sabine and knew +the outlines of what had happened. Her astonishment and distress had +been great, but underneath, as she was only human, there was some sense +of personal upliftment; she could try to comfort the disconsolate lover +at least. Sabine had given her to understand that nothing was finally +settled between herself and Henry, but Moravia felt there could be only +one end; she knew he was too unselfish to hold Sabine for an instant, +once he understood that she would rather be free; so it was in the +character of fond friend that she put out her hand and grasped his in +silent sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Henry," she whispered with tears in her usually merry eyes, "my heart +is breaking for you. Can I do anything?"</p> + +<p>He would rather that she had not spoken of his sorrow at all, being a +singularly reticent person, but he was touched by the love and +solicitude in her face, and took and held her white fingers.</p> + +<p>"You are always so good to me. But there is nothing to be done."</p> + +<p>She slid her other hand into his arm and drew him on into the little +sitting-room which was always set apart for her, close to her room.</p> + +<p>"I am going to take care of you for the next hour, anyway—you look +frozen," she told him. "I shall make you sit in the big chair by the +fire while I give you something to drink. It is only half-past six."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a></span>Then with fond severity she pushed him into a comfortable <i>bergère</i>, +and, leaving him, gave an order to her maid in the next room to bring +some brandy. But before it came Moravia went back again, and drawing a +low stool sat down almost at Henry's feet.</p> + +<p>The fire and her gentleness were soothing to him, as he lay there +huddled in the chair. The physical reaction was upon him from the shock +and he felt almost as though he were going to faint.</p> + +<p>Moravia watched him anxiously for some time without speaking—he was so +very pale. Then she got up quickly when the maid brought in the tray, +and pouring him out some brandy she brought it over and knelt down by +his side.</p> + +<p>"Drink this," she commanded kindly. "I shall not stir until you do."</p> + +<p>Henry took the glass with nerveless fingers and gulped down the liquid +as he was bid, but although she took the glass from him she did not get +off her knees; indeed, when she had pushed it on to the tray near her, +she came closer still and laid her cheek against his coat, taking his +right hand and chafing it between her own to bring back some life into +him, while she kept up a murmured flow of sweet sympathy—as one would +talk to an unhappy child.</p> + +<p>Henry was not actually listening to her, but the warmth and the great +vibrations of love coming from <span><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a></span>her began to affect him unconsciously, +so that he slipped his arm round her and drew her to his side.</p> + +<p>"Henry," she whispered with a little gasp in her breath, "I would take +all pain away from you, dear, if I could, but I can't do anything, only +just pet and love you into feeling better. After all, everything passes +in time. I thought I should never get over the death of my husband, +Girolamo, and now I don't care a bit—in fact, I only care about you and +want to make you less unhappy."</p> + +<p>The Princess thoroughly believed in La Rochefoucauld's maxim with the +advice that people were more likely to take to a new passion when still +agitated by the rests of the old one than if they were completely cured. +She intended, now that she was released from all honor to her friend, to +do her very uttermost to draw Henry to herself, and thought it much +wiser to begin to strike when the iron was hot.</p> + +<p>Henry did not answer her; he merely pressed her hand, while he thought +how un-English, her action was, and how very kind. She was certainly the +dearest woman he had ever met—beyond Sabine.</p> + +<p>Moravia was not at all discouraged, but continued to rub his hands, +first one and then the other, while he remained passive under her touch.</p> + +<p>"Sabine is perfectly crushed with all this," she went on. "I have just +left her. She does not know what you mean to do, but I am sure I can +guess. You mean <span><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a></span>to give her back to Mr. Arranstoun—and it will be much +better. She has always been in love with him, I believe, and would never +have agreed to try to arrange for a divorce if she had not been awfully +jealous about Daisy Van der Horn. I remember now telling her quite +innocently of the reports about them in Paris before we went to England, +and now that I come to think of it, I noticed she was rather spiteful +over it at the time."</p> + +<p>Henry did not answer, so she continued, in a frank, matter-of-fact way:</p> + +<p>"You can imagine what a strange character Sabine has when I tell you, in +all these years of our intimate friendship she never has told me a word +of her story until just now. She was keeping it all in to herself—I +can't think why."</p> + +<p>Henry did speak at last, but his words came slowly. "She wanted to +forget, poor little girl, and that was the best way to bury it all out +of sight."</p> + +<p>"There you are quite wrong," returned Moravia, now seated upon her +footstool again, very close, with her elbows propped on Henry's knees, +while she still held his hands and intermittently caressed them with her +cheek. "That is the way to keep hurts burning and paining forever, +fostering them all in the dark—it is much better to speak about them +and let the sun get in on them and take all their sorrow away. That is +why I would not let you be by yourself now, dear friend, as I suppose +one of your reserved countrymen would have <span><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a></span>done. I just determined to +make you talk about it, and to realize that there are lots of lovely +other things to comfort you, and that you are not all alone."</p> + +<p>Henry was strangely touched at her kind common sense; he already felt +better and not so utterly crushed out with despair. He told her how +sweet and good she was and what a true, unselfish woman—but Moravia +shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I am not a bit; it is purely interested, because I am so awfully fond +of you myself. I <i>love</i> to pet you—there!" and she laughed softly, so +happy to see that she had been able even to make this slight effect, for +she saw the color had come back in a measure to his face, and her keen +brain told her that this was the right tack to go upon—not to be too +serious or show any sentiment, but just to use a sharp knife and cut +round all the wound and then pour honey and balm into it herself.</p> + +<p>"You and Sabine would never really have been happy together," she now +told him. "You were much too subservient to her and let her order you +about. She would have grown into a bully. Now, Mr. Arranstoun won't +stand a scrap of nonsense, I am sure; he would make any woman obey +him—if necessary by using brute force! They are perfectly suited to one +another, and very soon you will realize it and won't care. Do you +remember how we talked at dinner that night at Ebbsworth about women +having to go through a stage in <span><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a></span>their lives sooner or later when they +adored just strength in a man and wanted a master? Well, I wondered then +if Sabine had passed hers, but I was afraid of hurting you, so I would +not say that I rather thought she had not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish you had!" Henry spoke at last. "And yet, no—the whole thing +has been inevitable from the first, I see it plainly. The only thing is, +if I had found it out sooner it might have saved Sabine pain. But it is +not too late, thank God—the divorce proceedings can be quashed; it +would have been a little ironical if she had had to marry him again."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Moravia agreed. "Now, if we could only get him to come here +immediately, we could explain it all to him and make him wire to his +lawyers at once."</p> + +<p>"I have already sent for him—I think he will arrive to-morrow at nine."</p> + +<p>"How glorious! It was just the dear, splendid thing you would do, +Henry," Moravia cried, getting up from her knees. "But we won't tell +Sabine; we will just let her mope there up in her room, feeling as +miserable as she deserves to be for not knowing her own mind. We will +all have a nice dinner—no, that won't be it—you and I will dine alone +here, up in this room, and Papa can talk to Madame Imogen. In this +house, thank goodness, we can all do what we like, and I am not going to +leave you, Henry, until we have got to say good-night. I don't care +whether you want me or not—<span><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a></span>I have just taken charge of you, and I mean +you to do what I wish—there!"</p> + +<p>And she crept closer to him again and laid her face upon his breast, so +that his cheek was resting upon her soft dark hair. Great waves of +comfort flowed to Henry. This sweet woman loved him, at all events. So +he put his arm round her again, while he assured her he did want her, +and that she was an angel, and other such terms. And by the time she +allowed him to go to his room to dress for dinner, a great measure of +his usual nerve and balance was restored. She had not given him a moment +to think, even shaking her finger at him and saying that if he was more +than twenty minutes dressing, she would herself come and fetch him and +bring him back to her room.</p> + +<p>Then, when he had left her, this true daughter of Eve, after ordering +dinner to be served to them, proceeded to make herself as beautiful as +possible for the next scene. She felt radiant. It was enormous what she +had done.</p> + +<p>"Why, he was on the verge of suicide!" she said to herself, "and now he +is almost ready to smile. Before the evening is over I shall have made +him kiss me—and before a month is past we shall be engaged. What +perfect nonsense to have silly mawkish sentiment over anything! The +thing to do is to win one's game."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">L</span> +<span class="smcap">ord Fordyce</span> found himself dressing in the usual way and with the usual +care, such creatures of habit are we—and yet, two hours earlier, he had +felt that life was over for him. Although he did not know it, Moravia +had been like a strong restorative applied at the right moment, and the +crisis of his agony had gone by. It was not that he was not still +overcome by sorrow, or that moments of complete anguish would not recur, +but the current had been diverted from taking a fatal turn, and +gradually things would mend. The perfect, practical common sense of +Moravia was so good for him. She was not intellectual like Sabine, she +was just a dear, beautiful, kind, ordinary woman, extremely in love with +him, but too truly American ever to lose her head, and now in real +spirits at the prospect of playing so delightful a game. She was +thoroughly versed in the ways of male creatures, and although she +possessed none of Sabine's indescribable charm, she had had numbers of +admirers and would-be lovers and was in every way fitted to cope with +any man. This evening, she had determined so to soothe, flatter and pet +Henry that he should go to bed <span><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a></span>not realizing that there was any change +in himself, but should be in reality completely changed. Her +preparations had been swift but elaborate. She had rushed to Madame +Imogen's room, and got her to take special messages to the chef, and +dinner would be waited on by her own maid—with Nicholas just to run in +and open the champagne. Then she selected a ravishing rose-pink chiffon +tea-gown, all lacy and fresh, and lastly she had a big fire made up and +all the curtains drawn, and so she awaited Henry's coming with +anticipations of delight. She had even got Mr. Cloudwater (that <i>père +aprivoisé!</i>) to mix her two dry Martini cocktails, which were ready for +her guest.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>Henry knocked at the door exactly at eight o'clock, and she went to meet +him with all the air of authority of a mother, and led him into the +room, pushing him gently into the chair she had prepared for him. A man +may have a broken heart—but the hurt cannot feel so great when he is +surrounded with every comfort and ministered to by a beautiful young +woman, who is not only in love with him, but has the nerve to keep her +head and not neglect a single point which can be of use in her game.</p> + +<p>If she had shown him too much sympathy, or just been ultra-refined and +silent and adoring, Henry by this time would have been quite as unhappy +as he had been at first; but he was too courteous by nature not to try +to be polite and appreciative of kindness when <span><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a></span>she tendered it so +frankly, no matter what his inward feelings might be—and this she knew +she could count upon and meant to exploit. She argued very truly that if +he were obliged to act, it would brace him up and be beneficial to him, +even though at the moment he would much prefer to be alone. So now she +made him drink the cocktail, and then she deliberately spoke of Sabine, +wondering if she would be awfully surprised to see Michael, and if he +would take her back with him to Arranstoun. Henry winced at every word, +but he had to answer, and presently he found he did not feel so sad. +Then, with dexterity, she turned the conversation to English politics +and got him to explain points to her, and at every moment she poured in +insidious flattery and frank, kind affection, so that by the time the +ice had come, Henry had begun to feel unaccountably soothed. She was +really a beautiful woman and arranged with a wonderful <i>chic</i>, and he +realized that she had never looked more charming or been so sweet. She +had all the sense of power being on her side, now that she had a free +hand, unhampered by honor to her friend, and when the dessert and the +cigarettes had come, she felt that she might indulge in a little +sentiment.</p> + +<p>She remembered that he only smoked cigars, and got up and helped him to +light one of his own; and when she was quite close to him, she put her +hand out and stroked his hair.</p> + +<p>"Even if he does not like it at first," she told herself,<span><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a></span> "he is too +polite to say so, and presently, just because he is a man, it will give +him a thrill."</p> + +<p>"I do love your light hair, Henry," she said aloud, "and it is so well +brushed. You Englishmen are certainly <i>soigné</i> creatures, and I like +your lazy, easy grace—as though you would never put yourself out for +any one. I can't bear a fuss." She puffed her cigarette and did not wait +for him to answer her, but prattled on perfectly at ease. Even his +courtesy would not have prevented him from snubbing her, if she had been +the least tentative in her caressings, or the least diffident. But she +just took it as a matter of course that she could stroke his hair if she +wanted to, and presently it began to give him a sensation of pleasure +and rest. If she had, by word or look, suggested that she expected some +return, Henry would have frozen at once—but all she did was apparently +only to please herself, and so he had no defense to make. Still in the +character of domestic tyrant, she presently led him to the comfortable +armchair, and once more seated herself upon the stool close to the fire +by his side. Here she was silent for a few moments, letting the comfort +of the whole scene sink in to his brain—and then, when the maid came in +to clear away the dinner-table, she got up and went to the piano, where +she played some soft, but not sentimental tunes. Music of a certain sort +would be the worst thing for him, but a light air while Marie was in the +room could do no harm. Though, when she went <span><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a></span>over close to him again, +she saw that even this pause had allowed him time to think, and that his +face was once more overcome by melancholy, although he greeted her with +a smile.</p> + +<p>Something further must be done.</p> + +<p>"Henry," she said, cooingly, kneeling down beside him and taking his +hand, "will you promise me something, please. I am not clever like you, +but I do know one splendid recipe for taking away pain; every time the +thought of Sabine comes up to you and the old pictures you used to hold, +look them squarely in the face, and then deliberately replace them with +others that you can obtain—the strange law of periodicity will be in +motion and, if you have only will enough, gradually the pictures that +can be yours will unconsciously have taken the place of the old ones +which have caused you pain. Is it not much better to do that than just +to let yourself grieve—surely it is more like a man?"</p> + +<p>Henry looked at her, a little startled. This idea had never presented +itself to him. Yes, it was certainly more like a man to try any measure +than "just to grieve," and what if there should be some truth in this +suggestion—? What did the "law of periodicity" mean? What an American +phrase! How apt they were at coining expressive sentences. He looked +into the glowing ashes—there he seemed to see in ruins the whole fabric +of his dreams—but if there was a law which brought thoughts back, and +back again at the same hour each <span><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a></span>day, then Moravia was right: he must +blot out the old pictures and conjure up new ones—but what could they +be—?</p> + +<p>"You are musing, Henry," Moravia's voice went on. "Are you thinking over +what I said? I hope so, and you will find it is true. See, I will tell +you what to visualize there in the fire. You are looking at a splendid +English home, all peace and warmth, and you see yourself in it happy and +surrounded by friends. And you see yourself a great man, the center of +political interest, and everything coming toward you that heart can +desire. It is awfully wanting in common sense to think because you +cannot obtain one woman there are none others in the world."</p> + +<p>"Awfully," agreed Henry—suddenly taking in the attractive picture she +made, seated there at his knees, her white hand holding his hand. His +thoughts wandered for a moment, as thought will do when the mind is +overstrained; they wandered to the speculation of why American women +should have such small and white hands, and then he brought himself back +to the actual conversation.</p> + +<p>"You mean to tell me," he said, "that if every time I remember, when I +am dwelling upon the subject which pains me, that I must make my +thoughts turn to other things which give me pleasure, that gradually the +new thoughts will banish the old?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I mean that," Moravia told him. "Every<span><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a></span>thing comes in +cycles; that is why people get into habits. You just try, Henry; you can +cure the habit of pain as easily as you can cure any habit. It is all a +question of will."</p> + +<p>She saw that she had created interest in his eyes, and rejoiced. That +crisis had passed! and it would be safe to go on.</p> + +<p>"I shall not get him to kiss me to-night, after all," she decided to +herself. "If I did, he would probably feel annoyed to-morrow, with some +ridiculous sense of a too sudden disloyalty to Sabine's memory—and he +might be huffed with himself, too, thinking he had given way; it might +wound his vanity. I shall just draw him right out and make him want to +kiss me, but not consciously—and then it will be safe when he is at +that pitch to let him go off to bed."</p> + +<p>This plan she proceeded to put into practice. She exploited the subject +they had been talking of to its length, and aroused a sharp discussion +and argument—while she took care to place herself in the most alluring +attitudes as close to Henry as she possibly could be, while maintaining +a basis of frank friendship, and then she changed the current by getting +him to explain to her exactly what he had done about Michael, and how +they should arrange the meeting between the two, putting into her +eagerness all the sparkle that she would have used in collaborating with +him over the placing of the presents upon a Christmas tree—until, <span><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a></span>at +last, Henry began to take some sort of pride in the thing itself.</p> + +<p>"I want you to let Sabine think you are just going to forgive her for +her deception, but intend her to keep her word to you; and then you can +take Mr. Arranstoun up to her sitting-room when you have brought him +from the Père Anselme's—and just push him in and let them explain +matters themselves. Won't it be a moment for them both!"</p> + +<p>Henry writhed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he gasped, "a great moment."</p> + +<p>"And you are not going to care one bit, Henry," Moravia went on, with +authority. "I tell you, you are not."</p> + +<p>Then, having made all clear as to their joint action upon the morrow, +she spent the last half hour before they parted in instilling into his +spirit every sort of comfort and subtle flattery until, when the clock +struck eleven, Henry felt a sense of regret that he must say good-night.</p> + +<p>By this time, her head was within a few inches of his shoulder, and her +pretty eyes were gazing into his with the adoring affection of a child.</p> + +<p>"You are an absolute darling, Moravia," he murmured, with some emotion, +"the kindest woman in this world," and he bent and kissed her hair.</p> + +<p>She showed no surprise—to take the caress naturally would, she felt, +leave him with the pleasure of it, and <span><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a></span>arouse no disturbing +analyzations in his mind as to its meaning.</p> + +<p>"Now you have got to go right off to your little bed," she said, in a +matter of fact 'mother' tone, "and I should just like to come and tuck +you up, and turn your light out—but as I can't, you'll promise me you +will do it yourself at once—and close those eyes and go to sleep." Here +she permitted herself softly to shut his lids with her smooth fingers.</p> + +<p>Henry felt a delicious sense of comfort and peace creeping over him—he +knew he did not wish to leave her—but he got up and took both her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, you sweet lady," he said. "You will never know how your +kind heart has helped me to-night, nor can I express my gratitude for +your spontaneous sympathy," with which he kissed the fair hands, and +went regretfully toward the door.</p> + +<p>Moravia thought this the right moment to show a little further +sentiment.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Henry," she faltered. "It has been rather heaven for +me—but I don't think I'll let you dine up here alone with me +again—it—it might make my heart ache, too." And then she dexterously +glided to the door of her bed-room and slipped in, shutting it softly.</p> + +<p>And Henry found himself alone, with some new fire running in his veins.</p> + +<p>When Moravia, listening, heard his footsteps going down the passage, she +clasped her hands in glee.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a></span>"I 'shall never know'! 'My spontaneous sympathy'!—Oh! the darling, +innocent babe! But I've won the game. He will belong to me now—and I +shall make him happy. Ouida was most certainly right when she said, 'Men +are not vicious; they are but children.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">V</span> +<span class="smcap">ery</span> early on Christmas morning, Lord Fordyce went down to the +<i>presbytère</i> and walked with the Père Anselme on his way to Mass. He had +come to a conclusion during the night. The worthy priest would be the +more fitting person to see Michael than he, himself; he felt he could +well leave all explanations in those able hands—and then, when his old +friend knew everything, he, Henry, would meet him and bring him to the +Château of Héronac, and so to Sabine.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>The Père Anselme was quite willing to undertake this mission; he would +have returned to his breakfast by then and would await Michael's +arrival, he told Henry. Michael would come from the station, twenty +kilometers away, in Henry's motor.</p> + +<p>The wind had got up, and a gloriously rough sea beat itself against the +rocks. The thundering surf seemed some comfort to Henry. He was +unconscious of the fact that he felt very much better than he had ever +imagined that he could feel after such a blow. Moravia's maneuvrings and +sweet sympathy had been <span><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a></span>most effective, and Henry had fallen asleep +while her spell was still upon him—and only awakened after several +hours of refreshing slumber. Then it was he decided upon the plan, which +he put into execution as soon as daylight came. Now he left the old +priest at the church door and strode away along the rough coast road, +battling with the wind and trying to conquer his thoughts.</p> + +<p>He was following Moravia's advice, and replacing each one of pain as it +came with one of pleasure—and the cold air exhilarated his blood.</p> + +<p>Michael, meanwhile, in the slow, unpleasant train, was a prey to anxiety +and speculation. What had happened? There was no clue in Henry's dry +words in the telegram. Had there been some disaster? Was Henry violently +angry with him? What would their meeting bring? He had come in to the +Ritz from a dinner party, and had got the telegram just in time to rush +straight to the station with a hastily-packed bag, and get into an +almost-moving train, and all night long he had wondered and wondered, as +he sat in the corner of his carriage. But whatever had happened was a +relief—it produced action. He had no longer just to try to kill time +and stifle thought; he could do something for good or ill.</p> + +<p>It seemed as though he would never arrive, as the hours wore on and dawn +faded into daylight. Then, at last, the crawling engine drew up at his +destination, <span><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a></span>and he got out and recognized Henry's chauffeur waiting +for him on the platform. The swift rush through the cold air refreshed +him, and took away the fatigue of the long night—and soon they had +drawn up at the door of the <i>presbytère</i>, and he found himself being +shown by the priest's ancient housekeeper into the spotlessly clean +parlor.</p> + +<p>The Père Anselme joined him in a moment, and they silently shook hands.</p> + +<p>"You are not aware, sir, why you have been sent for, I suppose?" the +priest asked, with his mild courtesy. "Pray be seated, there by the +stove, and I will endeavor to enlighten you."</p> + +<p>Michael sat down.</p> + +<p>"Please tell me everything," he said.</p> + +<p>The Père Anselme spread out his thin hands toward the warmth of the +china, while he remained standing opposite his visitor.</p> + +<p>"The good God at last put it into the mind of the Lord Fordyce that our +Dame d'Héronac has not been altogether happy of late—and upon my +suggestion he questioned her as to the cause of this, and learned what I +believe to be the truth—which you, sir, can corroborate—namely, that +you are her husband and are obtaining the divorce not from desire, but +from a motive of loyalty to your friend."</p> + +<p>"That is the case," assented Michael quietly, a sudden great joy in his +heart.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a></span>The priest was silent, so he went on:</p> + +<p>"And what does Lord Fordyce mean to do?—release her and give her back +to me—or what, <i>mon Père</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Is it necessary to ask?" and Père Anselme lifted questioning and almost +whimsical eyebrows. "Surely you must know that your friend is a +gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that—but it must mean the most awful suffering to +him—poor, dear old Henry—Is he quite knocked out?"</p> + +<p>"The good God tries no one beyond his strength—he will find +consolation. But, meanwhile, it will be well that you let me offer you +the hospitality of my poor house for rest and refreshment"—here the old +man made a courtly bow—"and when you have eaten and perhaps bathed, you +can take the road to the Château of Héronac, where you will find Lord +Fordyce by the garden wall, and he will perhaps take you to Madame +Sabine. That is as he may think wisest—I believe she is quite +unprepared. Of the reception you are likely to receive from her you are +the best judge yourself."</p> + +<p>"It seems too good to be true!" cried Michael, suddenly covering his +face with his hands. "We have all been through an awful time, <i>mon +Père</i>."</p> + +<p>"So it would seem. It is not the moment for me to tell you that you drew +it all upon yourselves—since the good God has seen fit to restore you +to happiness."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a></span>"I drew it upon us," protested Michael. "You know the whole story, +Father?"</p> + +<p>The old priest coughed slightly.</p> + +<p>"I know most of it, my son. In it, you do not altogether shine——"</p> + +<p>Michael got up from his chair, while he clasped his hands forcibly.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, I do not—I know I have been an unspeakable brute—I have +not the grain of an excuse to offer—and yet she has forgiven me. Women +are certainly angels, are they not, <i>mon Père</i>?"</p> + +<p>The Curé of Héronac sighed gently.</p> + +<p>"Angels when they love, and demons when they hate—of an unbalance—but +a great charm. It lies with us men to decide the feather-weight which +will make the scale go either way with them—to heaven or hell."</p> + +<p>Here the ancient housekeeper announced that coffee and rolls were ready +for them in the other room, and the Père Anselme led the way without +further words.</p> + +<p>Less than an hour later, the two men who loved this one woman met just +over the causeway, where Henry awaited Michael's coming. It was a +difficult moment for them both, but they clasped hands with a few +ordinary words. Henry's walk in the wind had strengthened his nerves. +For some reason, he was now conscious that he was feeling no acute pain +as he had expected that he would do, and that there was even some kind +of satisfaction in the thought that, on this<span><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a></span> Christmas morning, he was +able to bring great happiness to Sabine. He could not help remarking, as +they crossed the drawbridge, that Michael looked a most suitable mate +for her: he was such a picture of superb health and youth. As they +entered the courtyard, Moravia and her little son came out of the main +door.</p> + +<p>The Princess greeted them gaily. She was going to show Girolamo the big +waves from the causeway bridge before going on to church; they had a +good half-hour. She experienced no surprise at seeing Michael, only +asking about his night journey's uncomfortableness, and then she turned +to Henry:</p> + +<p>"Come and join us there by the high parapet, Henry, as soon as you have +taken Mr. Arranstoun up to Sabine. She has not come out of her wing yet; +but I know that she is dressed and in her sitting-room," and smiling +merrily, she took Girolamo's little hand and went her way.</p> + +<p>There was no sound when the two men reached Sabine's sitting-room door. +Henry knocked gently, but no answer came; so he opened it and looked in. +Great fires burned in the wide chimneys and his flowers gave forth sweet +scent, but the Lady of Héronac was absent, or so it seemed.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Michael, and wait," Henry said; and then, from the embrasure +of the far window, they heard a stifled exclamation, and saw that Sabine +was indeed there after all, and had risen from the floor, where she <span><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a></span>had +been kneeling by the window-seat looking out upon the waves.</p> + +<p>Her face was deadly pale and showed signs of a night's vigil, but when +she caught sight of Michael it was as though the sun had emerged from a +cloud, so radiant grew her eyes. She stood quite still, waiting until +they advanced near to her down the long room, and then she steadied +herself against the back of a tall chair.</p> + +<p>"Sabine," Henry said, "I want you to be very happy on this Christmas +day, and so I have brought your husband back to you. All these foolish +divorce proceedings are going to be stopped, and you and he can settle +all your differences, together, dear—" then, as a glad cry forced +itself from Sabine's lips—his voice broke with emotion. She stretched +out her hands to him, and he took one and drew her to Michael, who stood +behind him.</p> + +<p>Then he took also his old friend's hand, and clasped it upon Sabine's.</p> + +<p>"I am not much of a churchman," he said, hoarsely, "but this part of the +marriage service is true, I expect. 'Those whom God hath joined together +let no man put asunder.'" Then he dropped their hands, and turned toward +the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Henry, you are so good to us!" Sabine cried. "No words can say what +I feel."</p> + +<p>But Lord Fordyce could bear no more—and mur<span><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a></span>muring some kind of +blessing, he got from the room, leaving the two there in the embrasure +of the great window gazing into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>As the door shut, Michael spoke at last:</p> + +<p>"Sabine—My own!" he whispered, and held out his arms.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Henry left Sabine's sitting-room, he staggered down the stairs like +one blind—the poignant anguish had returned, and the mantle of comfort +fell from his shoulders. He was human, after all, and the picture of the +rapture on the faces of the two, showing him what he had never obtained, +stabbed him like a knife. He felt that he would willingly drop over the +causeway bridge into the boiling sea, and finish all the pain. He saw +Moravia's blue velvet dress in the distance down the road when he left +the lodge gates, and he fled into the garden; he must be alone—but she +had seen him go, and knew that another crisis had come and that she must +conquer this time also. So apparently only for the gratification of +Girolamo, she turned and entered the garden—the garden which seemed to +be a predestined spot for the stratagems of lovers!—then she strolled +toward the sea-wall, not turning her head in the direction where she +plainly perceived Henry had gone, but taking care that Girolamo should +see him, as she knew he would run to him. This he immediately did, and +dragged his victim back to his mother in the <span><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a></span>pavilion which looked out +over the sea. Girolamo was now three years old and a considerable imp; +he displayed Henry proudly and boasted of his catch—while Moravia +scolded him sweetly and asked Henry to forgive them for intruding upon +his solitude.</p> + +<p>"You know I understand you must want to be alone, dear friend, and I +would not have come if I had seen you," she said, tenderly, while she +turned and, leaning out, beckoned to the nurse, whom she could just see +across the causeway on the courtyard wall, where the raised parapet was. +Then allowing her feelings to overcome her judgment, she flung out her +arms and seizing Henry's hands, she drew them into her warm, huge muff.</p> + +<p>"Henry—I can't help it—!" she gasped. "It breaks my heart to see you +so cold and white and numb—I want to warm and comfort and love you back +to life again——!"</p> + +<p>At this minute, the sun burst through the scudding clouds, and blazed in +upon them from the archway; and it seemed to Henry as if a new vitality +rushed into his frozen veins. She was so human and pretty, and young and +real. Love for him spoke from her sparkling, brown eyes. The ascendancy +she had obtained over him on the previous evening returned in a measure; +he no longer wanted to get away from her and be alone.</p> + +<p>He made some murmuring reply, and did not seek to draw away his +hands—but a sudden change of feel<span><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a></span>ing seemed to come over Moravia for +she lowered her head and a deep, pink flush grew in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What will you think of me, Henry?" she whispered, pulling at his grasp, +which grew firmer as she tried to loosen it. "I"—and then she raised +her eyes, which were suffused with tears. "Oh! it seems such horrid +waste for you to be sick with grief for Sabine, who is happy now—and +that only I must grieve——"</p> + +<p>Girolamo had seen his nurse entering the far gate and was racing off to +meet her, so that they were quite alone in the pavilion now, and +Moravia's words and the tears in her fond eyes had a tremendous effect +upon Henry. It moved some unknown cloud in his emotions. She, too, +wanted comfort, not he alone—and he could bring it to her and be +soothed in return, so he drew her closer and closer to him, and framed +her face in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Moravia," he said, tenderly. "You shall not grieve, dear child—If you +want me, take me, and I will give you all the devotion of true +friendship—and, who knows, perhaps we shall find the Indian summer, +after all, now that the gates of my fool's paradise are shut."</p> + +<p>In the abstract, it was not highly gratifying to a woman's vanity, this +declaration! but, as a matter of fact, it was beyond Moravia's wildest +hopes. She had not a single doubt in her astute American mind that, once +she should have the right to the society of Henry—with her knowledge of +the ways of man—that she <span><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a></span>would soon be able to obliterate all regrets +for Sabine, and draw his affections completely to herself.</p> + +<p>At this juncture, she showed a stroke of genius.</p> + +<p>"Henry," she said, her voice vibrating with profound feeling, "I do want +you—more than anything I have ever wanted in my life—and I will make +you forget all your hurts—in my arms."</p> + +<p>There was certainly nothing left for Lord Fordyce, being a gallant +gentleman, to do but to stoop his tall head and kiss her—and, to his +surprise, he found this duty turn into a pleasure—so that, in a few +moments, when they were close together looking out upon the waves +through the pavilion's wide windows, he encircled her with his arm—and +then he burst into a laugh, but though it was cynical, it contained no +bitterness.</p> + +<p>"Moravia—you are a witch," he told her. "Here is a situation that, +described, would read like pathos—and yet it has made us both happy. +Half an hour ago, I was wishing I might step over into that foam—and +now——"</p> + +<p>"And now?" demanded the Princess, standing from him.</p> + +<p>"And now I realize that, with the New Year, there may dawn new joys for +me. Oh! my dear, if you will be content with what I can give you, let us +be married soon and go to India for the rest of the winter."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Père Anselme noticed that his only congregation <span><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a></span>from the Château +consisted of Mr. Cloudwater and Madame Imogen; and he thanked the good +God—as he sent up a fervent prayer for the absentees' happiness.</p> + +<p>"It means that they two are near heaven, and that consolation will come +to the disconsolate one, since all four remain at home," he told +himself. This was a dénouement worthy of Christmas Day, and of far more +value in his eyes than the two pairs' mere presence in his church.</p> + +<p>"The ways of the good God are marvellous," he mused, as he went to his +vestry, "and it is fitting that youth should find its mate. We grieve +and wring our hearts—and nothing is final—and while there is life +there is hope—that love may bloom again. Peace be with them."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"></a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">W</span> +<span class="smcap">hen</span> the first moment of ecstasy in the knowledge that they were indeed +given back to each other was over, Michael drew Sabine to the window +seat where she had been crouching only that short while before in silent +misery.<br class="cl" /></p> + +<p>"Sweetheart," he entreated, "now you have got to tell me everything—do +you understand, Sabine—every single thing from the first moment in the +chapel when we made those vows until now when we are going to keep them. +I want to know everything, darling child—all your thoughts and what you +did with your life—and when you hated me and when you loved me——"</p> + +<p>They sat down on the velvet cushions and Sabine nestled into his arms.</p> + +<p>"It is so difficult, Michael," she cooed, "how can I begin? I was +sillier and more ignorant than any other girl of seventeen could +possibly be, I think—don't you? Oh! don't let us speak of that part—I +only remember that when you kissed me first in the chapel some kind of +strange emotion came to me—then I was frightened——"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a></span>"But not after a while," he interpolated, something of rapturous +triumph in his fond glance, while he caressed and smoothed her hair, as +her little head lay against his shoulder, "I thought you had forgiven me +before I went to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had—I did not know myself—only that there in the gray dawn +everything seemed perfectly awful and horror and terror came upon me +again, and I had only one wild impulse to rush away—surely you can +understand—" she paused.</p> + +<p>"Go on, sweetheart," he commanded, "I shall not let you off one detail. +I love to make you tell me every single thing"—and he took her hand and +played with her wedding ring, but not taking it off, while Sabine +thrilled with happiness.</p> + +<p>"Well—you did not wake—and so presently I got into the sitting-room, +and at last found the certificate—and just as I was going out of the +door on to the balcony I heard you call my name sleepily—and for one +second I nearly went back—but I did not, and got safely away and to the +hotel!"</p> + +<p>"Think of my not waking!" Michael exclaimed. "If only I had—you would +never have been allowed to go—it is maddening to remember what that +sleep cost—but how did you manage at the hotel?"</p> + +<p>"It was after five o'clock and the side door was open into the yard. Not +a soul saw me, and I carried out my original plan. I think when I was in +the train I <span><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a></span>had already begun to regret bitterly, but it was too late +to go back—and then next day your letter came to me at Mr. Parsons' and +all my pride was up in arms!"</p> + +<p>Here Michael held her very tight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a brute I was to write that letter," he cried.</p> + +<p>"All I wanted then was to go away and forget all about you and +everything and have lots of nice clothes and join my friend Moravia in +Paris. You see, I was still just a silly ignorant child. Mr. Parsons got +me a good maid who is with me still, and he agreed at last to my taking +the name of Howard—I thought if I kept the Arranstoun everyone would +know."</p> + +<p>"But what did you intend to do, darling, with your life. We were both +crazy, of course, you to go—and I to let you."</p> + +<p>"I had no concrete idea. Just to see the world and buy what I wanted, +and sit up late—and not have to obey any rules, I think—and underneath +there was a great excitement all the time in the thought of looking +perfectly splendid in being a grand grown-up lady when you came +back—for of course I believed then that we must meet again."</p> + +<p>"Well, what changed all that and made you become engaged to Henry, you +wicked little thing!" and Michael kissed her fondly—"Was it because I +did not come back?—but you could have cabled to me at any time."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314"></a></span>An enchanting confusion crept over Sabine—she hesitated—she began to +speak, then stopped and finally buried her face in his coat.</p> + +<p>"What is it, darling?" he asked with almost a tone of anxiety in his +voice. "Did you have some violent flirtation with someone at this stage? +and you think I shall be annoyed—but indeed I shall not, because I do +fully realize that whatever you did was my fault for leaving you +alone—Tell me, Sabine, you sweet child."</p> + +<p>"No—it wasn't that——"</p> + +<p>"Well—then?"</p> + +<p>"Well—then I was—terrified—it was my old maid, Simone, who told me +what had happened—I was still too ignorant to understand things."</p> + +<p>"Told you what? What wretched story did the old woman invent about me?" +Michael's eyes were haughty—that she could listen to stories from a +maid!</p> + +<p>Sabine clasped her hands together—she was deeply moved.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Michael—you are stupid! How can I possibly tell you—if you won't +understand."</p> + +<p>Then she jumped up suddenly and swiftly brought her blue-despatch box +from beside her writing-table and unlocked it with her bracelet +key—while Michael with an anxious, puzzled face watched her intently. +She sat down again beside him when she had found what she sought—the +closed blue leather case which she had looked at so many times.</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315"></a></span>"If you are going to show me some brute's photograph I simply refuse to +look," Michael said. "All that part of your life is over and we are +going to begin afresh, darling one, no matter what you did."</p> + +<p>But she crept nearer to him as she opened the case—and her voice was +full and sweet, shy tenderness as she blurted out:</p> + +<p>"It is not a brute's photograph, Michael, it is the picture of your own +little son."</p> + +<p>"My God!" cried Michael, the sudden violent emotion making him very +pale. "Sabine—how dared you keep this from me all these years—I—" +Then he seized her in his arms and for a few seconds they could neither +of them speak—his caresses were so fierce. At last he exclaimed +brokenly, "Sabine—with the knowledge of this between us how could you +ever have even contemplated belonging to another man—Oh! if I had only +known. Where is—my son?"</p> + +<p>"You must listen, Michael, to everything," Sabine whispered, "then you +will understand—I was simply terrified when I realized at last, and +only wanted to go back to you and be comforted, so I wrote a letter at +once to tell you, and as Mr. Parsons was in England again I sent it to +him to have it put safely into your hands. But by then you had gone +right off to China, and Mr. Parsons sent the letter back to me, it was +useless to forward it to you, he said, you might not get it for a year."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a></span>Michael strained her to his heart once more, while his eyes grew wet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my poor little girl—all alone, how frightfully cruel it was, no +wonder you hated me then, and could not forgive me even afterward."</p> + +<p>"I did not hate you—I was only terrified and longing to rush off +somewhere and hide—so Simone suggested San Francisco—the furthest off +she knew, and we hurried over there and then I was awfully ill, and when +my baby was born I very nearly died."</p> + +<p>Michael was wordless, he could only kiss her. "That is what made him so +delicate—my wretchedness and rushing about," she went on, "and so I was +punished because, after three months, God took him back again—my dear +little one—just when I was beginning to grow comforted and to love him. +He was exactly like you, Michael, with the same blue eyes, and I +thought—I thought, we should go back to Arranstoun and finish our +estrangements and be happy again—the three of us—when you did come +home—I grew radiant and quite well—" Here two big tears gathered in +her violet eyes and fell upon Michael's hand, and he shivered with the +intensity of his feelings as he held her close.</p> + +<p>"We had made our plans to go East—but my little sweetheart caught cold +somehow—and then he died—Oh! I can't tell you the grief of it, +Michael, I was quite reckless after that—it was in June and I did not +care what happened to me for a long while. I just <span><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317"></a></span>wanted to get back to +Moravia, not knowing she had left Paris for Rome—and then I crossed in +July—and came here to Brittany and saw and bought Héronac as I told you +before. I heard then that you had not returned from China or made any +sign—and it seemed all so cruel and ruthless, and as there were no +longer any ties between us I thought that I would crush you from my life +and forget you, and that I would educate myself and make something of my +mind."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, my dear little girl," Michael sighed. "If you knew how all +this is cutting me to the heart to think of the awful brute I have +been—to think of you bearing things all alone—I somehow never realized +the possibility of this happening—but once or twice when it did cross +my mind I thought of course you would have cabled to me if so—I am +simply appalled now at the casual selfishness of my behavior—can you +ever forgive me, Sabine?"</p> + +<p>She smoothed back his dark thick hair and looked into his bold eyes, now +soft and glistening with tears.</p> + +<p>"Of course I can forgive you, Michael—I belong to you, you see——"</p> + +<p>So when he had kissed her enough in gratitude and contrition he besought +her to go on.</p> + +<p>"The years passed and I thought I had really forgotten you—and my life +grew so peaceful with the Père Anselme and Madame Imogen here at +Héronac, and all sorts of wonderful and interesting studies kept +<span><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a></span>developing for me. I seemed to grow up and realize things and the +memory of you grew less and less—but society never held out any +attractions for me—only to be with Moravia. I had taken almost a +loathing for men; their actions seemed to me all cruel and predatory, +not a single one attracted me in the least degree—until this summer at +Carlsbad when we met Henry. And he appeared so good and true and +kind—and I felt he could lift me to noble things and give me a guiding +hand to greatness of purpose in life—I liked him—but I must tell you +the truth, Michael, and you will see how small I am," here she held +tightly to Michael's hand—"I do not think I would ever have promised +him at Carlsbad that I would try to free myself only that I read in the +paper that you were at Ostende—with Daisy Van der Horn. That +exasperated me—even though I thought I was absolutely indifferent to +you after five years. I had never seen your name in the paper before, it +was the first indication I had had that you had come home—and the whole +thing wounded my pride. I felt that I must ask for my freedom from you +before you possibly could ask for yours from me. So I told Henry that +very night that I had made up my mind."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you dear little goose," Michael interrupted. "Not one of those +ladies mattered to me more than the other—they were merely to pass the +time of day, of no importance whatever."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319"></a></span>"I dare say—but I am telling you my story, Michael—Well, Henry was so +wonderful, so good—and it got so that he seemed to mean everything +fine, he drew me out of myself and your shadow grew to mean less and +less to me and I believed that I had forgotten you quite—except for the +irritation I felt about Daisy—and then by that extraordinary turn of +fate, Henry himself brought you here, and I did not even know the name +of the friend who was coming with him; he had not told me in the hurried +postscript of his letter saying he was bringing some one—I saw you both +arrive from the lodge, and when I heard the tones of your voice—Ah! +well, you can imagine what it meant!"</p> + +<p>"No, I want to know, little darling—what did it mean?" and Michael +looked into her eyes with fond command.</p> + +<p>"It made my heart beat and my knees tremble and a strange thrill came +over me—I ought to have known then that to feel like that did not mean +indifference—oughtn't I?"</p> + +<p>"I expect so—but what a moment it was when we did meet, you must come +to that!"</p> + +<p>"Arrogant, darling creature you are, Michael! You love to make me +recount all these things," and Sabine looked so sweetly mutinous that he +could not remain tranquilly listening for the moment, but had to make +passionate love to her—whispering every sort of en<span><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></a></span>dearment into her +little ear—though presently she continued the recital of her story +again:</p> + +<p>"I stood there in the lodge after the shock of seeing you had passed, +and I began to burn with every sort of resentment against you—I had had +all the suffering and you had gone free—and I just felt I wanted to +punish you by pretending not to know you! Think of it! How small—and +yet there underneath I felt your old horribly powerful charm!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did, did you! You darling," Michael exclaimed—and what do you +suppose I felt—if we had only rushed there and then into each other's +arms!"</p> + +<p>"I was quite prepared for you in the garden—and did not I play my part +well! You got quite white, you know with surprise—and I felt +exquisitely excited. I could see you had come in all innocence—having +probably forgotten our joking arrangement that I should call myself Mrs. +Howard—I could not think why you did not speak out and denounce me. It +hurt my pride, I thought it was because you wanted to divorce me and +marry Daisy that you were indifferent about it. I did not know it was +because you had given your word of honor to Henry not to interfere with +the woman he loved. Then after dinner Henry told me you knew that he and +I were practically engaged—that stung me deeply—it seemed to prove +your indifference—so things developed and we met in the +garden—Michael, was not that a wonderful hour! How we both acted. If +you <span><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a></span>had indicated by word or look that you remembered me, I could not +have kept it up, we should have had to tell Henry then—we were playing +at cross-purposes and my pride was wounded."</p> + +<p>"I understand, sweetheart, go on."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was miserable at luncheon, and then when you went out in the +boat—being with you was like some intoxicating drink—I was more +excited than I had ever been in my life. I was horrid toward Henry, I +would not own it to myself, but I felt him to be the stumbling block in +the way. So I was extra nice to him to convince myself—and I let him +hold my arm, which I had never done before and you saw that in the +garden. I suppose—and thought I loved him and so went—that was nice of +you, Michael—but stupid, wasn't it!"</p> + +<p>"Ridiculously stupid, everything I did was stupid that separated you +from me. The natural action of my character would have been just to +seize you again and carry you off resisting or unresisting to +Arranstoun, but some idiotic sentiment of honor to Henry held me."</p> + +<p>"I cried a little, I believe, when I got your note—I went up into this +room and opened this despatch-box and read your horrid letter again—and +I believe I looked into the blue leather case, too"—here she opened it +once more—and they both examined it tenderly. "Of course you can't see +anything much in this little photograph—but he really was so like you, +Michael, and <span><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a></span>when I looked at it again after seeing you, I could have +sobbed aloud, I wanted you so——"</p> + +<p>"My dear, dear, little girl——"</p> + +<p>"Henry had told me casually that afternoon your story, and how he had +not stayed at Arranstoun for the wedding because he thought your action +so unfair to the bride!—and how that now you felt rather a dog in the +manger about her. That infuriated me! Can't you understand I had only +one desire, to show you that I did not care since you had gone off. +Henry was simply angelic to me—and asked me so seriously if he could +really make me happy, if not he would release me then. I felt if he +would take me, all bruised and restless, and comfort me and bring me +peace, I did indeed wish to be his wife—and if nothing more had +happened we might have grown quite happy from then, but we went to +England—and I saw you again—and—Oh! well, Michael, need I tell you +any more? You know how we fenced and how at last we could not bear +it—up in Mrs. Forster's room!"</p> + +<p>"It was the most delirious and most unhappy moment of my life, darling."</p> + +<p>"And now it is all over—isn't Henry a splendid man? I told him all this +yesterday—the Père Anselme had suggested to him to come and ask me for +the truth. He behaved too nobly—but I did not know what he intended to +do, nor if it were too late to stop the divorce or anything, so I was +miserable."</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a></span>"You shall not be so any more—we will go back to Arranstoun at once, +darling, and begin a new and glorious life together. From every point of +view that is the best thing to be done. We could not possibly go on all +staying here, it would be grotesque—and I am quite determined that I +will never leave you again—do you hear, Sabine?" And he turned her face +and made her look into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hear!—and know that you were always the most masterful +creature!"</p> + +<p>"Do you want to change me?"</p> + +<p>But Sabine let herself be clasped in his arms while she abandoned +herself to the deep passionate joy she felt.</p> + +<p>"No—Michael—I would not alter you in one little bit, we are neither of +us very good or very clever, but I just love you and you love me—and we +are mates! There!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>They carried out their plans and arrived at Arranstoun Castle a few days +later. Michael wired to have everything ready for their reception and +both experienced the most profound emotion when first they entered +Michael's sitting-room again.</p> + +<p>"There is the picture, darling, that you fell through and—here is Binko +waiting to receive and welcome you!"</p> + +<p><span><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a></span>The mass of fat wrinkles got up from his basket and condescended, after +showing a wild but suppressed joy at the sight of his master, to be +re-introduced to his mistress who expressed due appreciation of his +beauty.</p> + +<p>"That old dog has been my only confidant about you, Sabine, ever since I +came back—he could tell you how frantic I was, couldn't you, Binko?"</p> + +<p>Binko slobbered his acquiescence and then the tea was brought in; Sabine +sat down to pour it out in the very chair she had sat in long ago. She +was taller now, but still her little feet did not reach the ground.</p> + +<p>The most ecstatic happiness was permeating them both, and it all seemed +like a divine dream to be there together and alone. They reconstructed +every incident of their first meeting in a fond duet—each supplying a +link, and they talked of all their new existence together and what it +would mean, and presently Michael drew Sabine toward the chapel where +the lights were all lit.</p> + +<p>"Darling," he whispered, "I want to make new vows of love and tenderness +to you here, because to-night is our real wedding night—I want you to +forget that other one and blot it right out."</p> + +<p>But Sabine moved very close to him as she clung to his arm, and her +whole soul was in her eyes as she answered:</p> + +<p>"I do not want to forget it. I know very well that I had begun to love +you even then. But, Michael—do <span><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a></span>you remember that undecorated window +which you told me had been left so probably for you to embellish as an +expiatory offering, because rapine and violence were in the blood—Well, +dear love, I think we must put up the most beautiful stained glass +together there—in memory of our little son. For we are equally to blame +for his brief life and death."</p> + +<p>But Michael was too moved to speak and could only clasp her hand.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em;">THE END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man and the Moment, by Elinor Glyn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN AND THE MOMENT *** + +***** This file should be named 17048-h.htm or 17048-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/4/17048/ + +Produced by Stacy Brown Thellend, Suzanne Shell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Man and the Moment + +Author: Elinor Glyn + +Release Date: November 11, 2005 [EBook #17048] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN AND THE MOMENT *** + + + + +Produced by Stacy Brown Thellend, Suzanne Shell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "It all looked very intimate and lover-like" +[Page 149]] + + + + +THE MAN AND THE MOMENT + +BY + +ELINOR GLYN + +1914 + +AUTHOR OF "GUINEVERE'S LOVER," "HALCYONE," +"THE REASON WHY," ETC. + + +[Illustration] + + +Illustrated by +R.F. James + +NEW YORK +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +1914 + +Copyright, 1914, by +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + * * * * * + +Copyright, 1914, by The Red Book Corporation + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + FACING PAGE + +"It all looked very intimate and lover-like" + _Frontispiece_ + +"He bounded forward to meet her" 48 + +"His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant" 64 + +"'He is often in some scrape--something must have + culminated to-night'" 224 + + + + +THE MAN AND THE MOMENT + + +CHAPTER I + + +Michael Arranstoun folded a letter which he had been reading for the +seventh time, with a vicious intentness, and then jumping up from the +big leather chair in which he had been buried, he said aloud, "Damn!" + +When a young, rich and good-looking man says that particular word aloud +with a fearful grind of the teeth, one may know that he is in the very +devil of a temper! + +Michael Arranstoun was! + +And, to be sure, he had ample reason, as you, my friend, who may happen +to have begun this tale, will presently see. + +It is really most irritating to be suddenly confronted with the +consequences of one's follies at any age, but at twenty-four, when +otherwise the whole life is smiling for one, it seems quite too hard. + +The frightful language this well-endowed young gentleman now indulged +in, half aloud and half in thought, would be quite impossible to put on +paper! It contained what almost amounted to curses for a certain lady +whose appearance, could she have been seen at this moment, suggested +that of a pious little saint. + +"How the h---- can I keep from marrying her!" Mr. Arranstoun said more +than aloud this time, and then kicking an innocent footstool across the +room, he called his bulldog, put on his cap and stamped out on to the +old stone balcony which opened from this apartment, and was soon +stalking down the staircase and across the lawn to a little door in the +great fortified wall, which led into the park. + +He had hardly left the room when, from the wide arched doorway of his +bed-chamber beyond, there entered Mr. Johnson, his superior valet, +carrying some riding-boots and a silk shirt over his arm. You could see +through the open door that it was a very big and comfortable bedroom, +which had evidently been adapted to its present use from some much more +stately beginning. A large, vaulted chamber it was, with three narrow +windows looking on to the grim courtyard beneath. + +Michael Arranstoun had selected this particular suite for himself when +his father died ten years before, and his mother was left to spoil him, +until she, too, departed from this world when he was sixteen. + +What a splendid inheritance he had come into! This old border castle up +in the north--and not a mortgage on the entire property! While, from his +mother, a number of solid golden sovereigns flowed into his coffers +every year--obtained by trade! That was a little disgusting for the +Arranstouns--but extremely useful. + +It might have been from this same strain that the fortunate young man +had also inherited that common sense which made him fairly level-headed, +and not given as a rule to any over-mad taste. + +The Arranstouns had been at Arranstoun since the time of those tiresome +Picts and Scots--and for generations they had raided their neighbors' +castles and lands, and carried off their cattle and wives and daughters +and what not! They had seized anything they fancied, and were a strong, +ruthless, brutal race, not much vitiated by civilization. These +instincts of seizing what they wanted had gone on in them throughout +eleven hundred years and more, and were there until this day, when +Michael, the sole representative of this branch of the family, said +"Damn!" and kicked a footstool across the room into the grate. + +Mr. Johnson was quite aware of the peculiarity of the family. Indeed, he +was not surprised when Alexander Armstrong remarked upon it presently. +Alexander Armstrong was the old retainer, who now enjoyed the position +of guide to the Castle upon the two days a week when tourists were +allowed to walk through the state rooms, and look at the splendid +carvings and armor and pictures, and the collection of plate. + +Johnson had had time to glance over his master's correspondence that +morning, which, with characteristic recklessness, that gentleman had +left upon his bed while he went to his bath, so his servant knew the +cause of his bad temper, and had been prudent and kept a good deal out +of the way. But the news was so interesting, he felt Alexander Armstrong +really ought to share the thrill. + +"Mrs. Hatfield's husband is dying," he announced, as Armstrong, very +diffidently, peeped through the window from the balcony, and then, +seeing no one but his friend the valet, entered the room. + +Alexander Armstrong spoke in broad Scotch, but I shall not attempt to +transcribe this barbaric language; sufficient to tell you that he made +the excuse for his intrusion by saying that he had wanted to get some +order from the master about the tourists. + +"We shan't have any tourists when she's installed here as mistress!" Mr. +Johnson remarked sepulchrally. + +Armstrong was heard to murmur that he did not know what Mr. Johnson +meant! This was too stupid! + +"Why, I told you straight off Mrs. Hatfield's husband is dying," Johnson +exclaimed, contemptuously. "She wrote one of her mauve billy doos this +morning, telling the master so, and suggesting they'd soon be able to be +married and happy--pretty cold-blooded, I call it, considering the poor +man is not yet in his grave!" + +Armstrong was almost knocked over by this statement; then he +laughed--and what he said meant in plain English that Mr. Johnson need +not worry himself, for no Arranstoun had ever been known to be coerced +into any course of conduct which he did not desire himself--not being +hampered by consideration for women, or by any consideration but his own +will. For the matter of that, a headstrong, ruthless race all of them +and, as Mr. Johnson must be very well aware, their own particular master +was a true chip of the old block. + +"See his bonny blue eye--" (I think he pronounced it "ee"), "see his +mouth shut like a game spring. See his strong arms and his height! See +him smash the boughs off trees when they get in his way! and then tell +me a woman's going to get dominion over him. Go along, Mr. Johnson!" + +But Johnson remained unconvinced and troubled; he had had several +unpleasant proofs of woman's infernal cunning in his own sphere of life, +and Mrs. Hatfield, he knew, was as well endowed with Eve's wit as any +French maid. + +"We'll ha' a bet about it if you like," Armstrong remarked, as he got up +to go, the clock striking three. He knew the first batch of afternoon +tourists would be clamoring at the gate. + +Mr. Johnson looked at the riding-boots in his hand. + +"He went straight off for his ride without tasting a bite of breakfast +or seeing Mr. Fordyce, and he didn't return to lunch, and just now I +find every article of clothing strewn upon the floor--when he came in +and took another bath--he did not even ring for me--he must have +galloped all the time; his temper would frighten a fighting cock." + +Meanwhile, Michael Arranstoun was tramping his park with giant strides, +and suddenly came upon his friend and guest, Henry Fordyce, whose very +presence in his house he had forgotten, so turbulent had his thoughts +been ever since the early post came in. Henry Fordyce was a leisurely +creature, and had come out for a stroll on the exquisite June day upon +his own account. + +They exchanged a few remarks, and gradually got back to Michael's +sitting-room again, and rang for drinks. + +Mr. Fordyce had, by this time, become quite aware that an active volcano +was going on in his friend, but had waited for the first indication of +the cause. It came in the course of a conversation, after the footman +had left the room and both men were reclining in big chairs with their +iced whiskey and soda. + +"It is a shame to stay indoors on such a day," Henry said lazily, +looking out upon the balcony and the glittering sunshine. + +"I never saw anyone enjoy a holiday like you do, Henry," Michael +retorted, petulantly. "I can't enjoy anything lately. 'Pon my soul, it +is worth going into Parliament to get such an amount of pleasure out of +a week's freedom." + +But Henry did not agree that it was freedom, when even here at +Arranstoun he had been pestered to patronize the local bazaar. + +"The penalty of greatness! I wonder when you will be prime minister. +Lord, what a grind!" + +Mr. Fordyce stretched himself in his chair and lit a cigar. + +"It may be a grind," he said, meditatively, "but it is for some definite +idea of good--even if I am a slave; whereas you!--you are tied and bound +to a woman--and such a woman! You have not been able to call your soul +your own since last October as it is--and before you know where you are, +you will be attending the husband's funeral and your own wedding in the +same week!" + +Michael bounded from his chair with an oath. "I'll be shot if I do!" he +said, and sat down again. Then his voice grew a little uncertain, and he +went on: + +"It is worrying me awfully, though, Henry. If poor old Maurice does puff +out--I suppose I ought to marry her--I----" + +Mr. Fordyce stiffened, and the sleepy look in his gray eyes altered to a +flash of steel. + +"Let us have a little plain speaking, Michael, old boy. It is not as +though I do not know the whole circumstance of your affair with Violet +Hatfield. I warned you about her in the beginning, when you met her at +my sister Rose's, but, as usual, you would take your own course----" + +Michael began to speak, but checked himself--and Henry Fordyce went on. + +"I have had a letter from Rose this morning--as you of course know, +Violet is staying for this Whitsuntide with them, having dragged her +wretched husband, dying of consumption as he is, to this merry party. +Well--Rose says poor Maurice is in a terrible state, caught a fresh cold +on Saturday--and she adds, 'So I suppose we shall soon see Violet +installed at Arranstoun as mistress.'" + +"I know--I heard from Violet herself this morning," and Michael put his +head down dejectedly. + +"Ebbsworth is only thirty-five miles from here," Mr. Fordyce announced +with meaning. "Violet can pop in on you at any moment, and she'll clinch +the matter and bind you with her cobwebs before you can escape." + +"Oh, Lord!" + +"You know you are dead sick of her, Michael--and you know that I am not +the sort of man who would ever speak of a woman thus without grave +reason; but she does not care for you any more than the half a dozen +others who occupied your proud position before your day--it is only for +money and the glory of having you tied to her apron strings. It was not +any good hammering on while the passion was upon you; but I have +watched you, and have seen that it is waning, so now's my time. With +this danger in front of you, you have got to pull yourself together, old +boy, and cut and run." + +"That would be no use--" Then Michael stammered a little. "I say, Henry, +I won't hear a word against her. You can thunder at me--but leave her +out." + +Mr. Fordyce smiled. + +"Did she express deep grief at poor Maurice's condition in her letter?" +he asked. + +"Er--no--not exactly----" + +"I thought not--she probably suggested all sorts of joys with you when +she is free!" + +There was an ominous silence. + +Mr. Fordyce's voice now took on that crisp tone which his adversaries in +the House of Commons so well knew meant that they must look to their +guns. + +"Delightful woman! A spider, I tell you, a roaring hypocrite, too, +bamboozling poor Rose into thinking her a virtuous, persecuted little +darling, with a noble passion for you, and my sister is a downright +person not easily fooled. At this moment, Violet is probably shedding +tears on her shoulder over poor Maurice, while she is plotting how soon +she can become mistress of Arranstoun. Good God! when I think of it--I +would rather get in a girl from the village and go through the ceremony +with her, and make myself safe, than have the prospect of Violet +Hatfield as a wife. Michael, I tell you seriously, dear boy--you won't +have the ghost of a chance if you are still unmarried when poor Maurice +dies!" + +Michael bounded from his chair once more. He was perfectly +furious--furious with the situation--furious with the woman--furious +with himself. + +"Confound it, Henry, I--know it--but it does not mend matters your +ranting there--and I am so sorry for the poor chap--Maurice, I mean--a +very decent fellow, poor Maurice! Can't you suggest any way out?" + +Mr. Fordyce mused a moment, while he deliberately puffed smoke, +Michael's impatience increasing so that he ran his hands through his +dark, smooth hair, whose shiny, immaculate brushing was usually his +pride! + +"Can't you suggest a way out?" he reiterated. + +Mr. Fordyce did not reply--then after a moment: "You were always too +much occupied with women, Michael--from your first scrape when you left +Eton; and over this affair you have been a complete fool." + +Michael was heard to swear again. + +"You have been inconsistent, too, because you did not even employ your +usual ruthless methods of doing what you pleased with them. You have +simply drifted into allowing this vile creature's cobwebs to cling on to +your whole existence until you are almost paralyzed, and it seems to me +that an immediate marriage with someone else is your only way of escape. +Such a waste of your life! Just analyze the position. You have +everything in the world, this glorious place--an old +name--money--prestige--and if your inclinations do run to the material +side of things instead of the intellectual, they are still successful in +their demonstration. No one has a better eye for a horse, or is a finer +shot. The best at driven grouse for your age, my boy, I have ever seen. +You are full of force, Michael, and ought to do some decent +thing--instead of which you spoil the whole outlook by fooling after +this infernal woman--and you have not now the pluck to cut the Gordian +knot. She will drag you to the lowest depths----" + +Then he laughed. "And only think of that voice in one's ears all day +long! I would rather marry old Bessie at the South Lodge. She is +eighty-four, she tells me, and would soon leave you a widower." + +The first ray of hope shot into Michael's bright blue eyes--and he +exclaimed with a kind of joy, as he seized Binko, his bulldog, by his +fat, engaging throat: + +"Bessie! Old Bessie--By Jove, what an idea!--the very thing. She'd do it +for me like a shot, dear old body!" + +Binko gurgled and slobbered in sympathy. + +"She would be kind to you, too, Binko. She would not say she found your +hairs on every chair, and that you dribbled on her dress! She would not +tell your master that he left his cigarette-ash about, and she hated the +smell of smoke! She would not want this room for her boudoir, she----" + +Then he stopped his flow of words, suddenly catching sight of the +whimsical, sardonic smile upon his friend's face. + +"Oh, Lord!" he mumbled, contritely. "I had forgotten you were here, +Henry. I am so jolly upset." + +"This heartlessness about poor Maurice has finished you, eh?" Mr. +Fordyce suggested. He felt he might be gaining his end. + +Michael covered his face with his hands. + +"It seems so ghastly to think of marriage with the poor chap not yet +dead--I am fairly knocked over--it really is the last straw--but she +will cry and make a scene--and she has certainly arguments--and it will +make one feel such a cad to leave her." + +"She wrote that--did she?--wrote of marriage and her husband's last +attack of hemorrhage in the same paragraph, I suppose. Michael, it is +revolting! My dear boy, you must break away from her--and then do try to +occupy yourself with more important things than women. Believe me, they +are all very well in their way and in their proper place--to be treated +with the greatest courtesy and respect as wives and mothers--even loved, +if you will, for a recreation--but as vital factors in a man's real +life! My dear fellow, the idea is ridiculous--that life should be for +his country and the development of his own soul----" + +Michael Arranstoun laughed. + +"Jolly old Mohammedan! You think women have none, I suppose!" + +Henry Fordyce frowned, because it was rather true--but he denied the +charge. + +"Nothing of the sort. Merely, I see things at their proper balance and +you cannot." + +Michael leaned back in his chair; he was quieter for a moment. + +"I only see what I want to see, Henry--and I am a savage--I cannot help +it--we have always been so. When I fancy a woman, I must obtain +her--when I want a horse, I must have it. It is always _must_--and we +have not done so badly. We still possess our shoulders and chins and +strength after eleven hundred years of it!" and he stretched out a +splendid arm, with a force which could have felled an ox. + +An undoubtedly fine specimen of British manhood he looked, sitting there +in the June sunlight, which came in a shaft from the south mullioned +window in the corner beyond the great fireplace, the space between +occupied by a large picture of uncertain date, depicting the landing of +Mary, Queen of Scots, in her northern kingdom. + +His eyes roamed to this. + +"One of my ancestors was among that party," he said, pointing to a +figure. "He had just killed a Moreton and stolen his wife, that is why +he looks so perky--the fellow in the blue doublet." + +Mr. Fordyce rose from his chair and fired his last shot. + +"And now a female spider is going to paralyze the last Arranstoun, and +rule him for the rest of his days, sapping his vitality." + +But Michael protested. + +"By heaven, no!" + +"Well, I'll leave you to think about it. I am going for another stroll +on this lovely day." He had got to the window by this time, which looked +into the courtyard on the opposite side to the balcony. "Goodness! what +a party of tourists! It is a bore for you to have them all over the +place like this! To own a castle with state rooms to be shown to the +public has its disadvantages." + +Michael looked at them, too, a large party of Americans, mostly of that +class which compose the tourists of all countries, and which no nation +feels proud to own. He had seen hundreds of such, and turned away +indifferently. + +"They only come here twice a week, and it has been allowed for such +ages--they are generally quiet, and fortunately their perambulations +close at the end of the gallery. They don't intrude upon my own suite. +They get to the chapel by the outside door." + +Henry crossed the room and went on to the balcony. + +"Mrs. Hatfield will alter all that," he laughed, as he disappeared from +view. + +Michael flashed a rageful glance at his back, and then flung himself +into his great armchair again, and pulled the wrinkled mass, which +called itself a prize bulldog, on to his lap. + +"I believe he's right and we are caught, Binko. If we fled to the Rocky +Mountains, she would track us. If we stay and face it, she'll make an +almighty scandal and force us to marry her. What in the devil's name are +we to do----!" + +Binko licked his master's hands, and made noises, so full of gurgling, +slobbering sympathy, no heart could have remained uncomforted. Who +knows! His canine common sense may have telepathically transmitted a +thought, for Michael suddenly plopped him on the floor, and stalked +toward the fireplace to ring the bell, while he exclaimed, as though +answering a suggestion. "Yes, we'll send for old Bessie--that's the only +way." + +But before he could reach his goal, the picture of Mary, Queen of Scots, +landing fell forward with a crash, and through the aperture of a secret +door which it concealed, there tumbled a very young and pretty girl +right into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Mr. Arranstoun was extremely startled and annoyed, too, and before he +took in the situation, he had exclaimed, while Binko gave an ominous +growl of displeasure: + +"Confound it--who is that! These are private rooms!" Then, seeing it was +a girl on the floor, he said in another voice: "Quiet, Binko--" and the +dog retired to his own basket under a distant table. "Oh, I beg your +pardon--but----" + +The creature on the floor blinked at Michael with large, round, violet +eyes, but did not move, while she answered aggrievedly--with a very +faint accent, whether a little French or a little American, or a little +of both, he was not sure, only that it had something attractive about +it. + +"You may well say 'but'! I did not mean to intrude upon your private +room--but I had to run away from Mr. Greenbank--he was so horrid--" here +she gasped a little for breath--"and I happened to see something like a +door ajar in the Gainsborough room, so I fled through it, and it +fastened after me with a snap--I could not open it again--and it was +pitch dark in that dreadful passage and not a scrap of air--I felt +suffocated, and I pushed on anywhere--and something gave way and I fell +in here--that's all----" + +She rattled this out without a stop, and then stared at Michael with her +big, childish eyes, but did not attempt to rise from the floor. + +He walked toward her and held out his hand, and with ceremonious and +ironical politeness, he began: + +"May I not help you--I could offer you a chair----" + +She interrupted him while she struggled up, refusing his proffered hand. + +"I've knocked myself against your nasty table--why do you have it in +that place!" + +Michael sat down upon the edge of it, and went on in his ironical tone: + +"Had I known I was to have the honor of this visit, I should certainly +have had it moved." + +"There is no use being sarcastic," the girl said, almost crying now. "It +hurts very much, and--and--I want to go home." + +Mr. Arranstoun pushed a comfortable monster seat toward her, and said +more sympathetically: + +"I am very sorry--but where is home?" + +The girl sank into the chair, and smoothed out her pink cotton frock; +the skimpy skirt (not as narrow as in these days, but still short and +spare!) showed a perfect pair of feet and ankles. + +"She's American, of course, then," Michael said to himself, observing +these, "and quite pretty if that smudge of grime was off her face." + +She was looking at him now with her large, innocent eyes, which +contained no shadow of _gene_ over the unusual situation, and then she +answered quite simply: + +"I haven't a home, you know--I'm just staying at the Inn with Uncle +Mortimer and Aunt Jemima and--and--Mr. Greenbank--and we are tourists, I +suppose, and were looking at the pictures--when--when I had to run +away." + +Michael felt a little piqued with curiosity; she was a diversion after +his perplexing, irritating meditations. + +"It would be so interesting to hear why you ran away--the whole story?" +he suggested. + +The girl turned her head and looked out of the window, showing a dear +little baby profile, and masses of light brown hair rolled up anyhow at +the back. She did not look older than seventeen at the outside, and was +peculiarly childish and slender for that. + +"But I should have to tell you from the beginning, and it is so +long--and you are a stranger." + +Michael drew another chair nearer to her, and sat down, while his manner +took on a note of grave, elderly concern, which rather belied the +twinkle of mischief in his eyes. + +"Never mind that--I am sympathetic, and I am your host--and, by +Jove!--won't you have some tea! You look awfully tired and--dusty," and +he rang the bell, and then reseated himself. "See, to be quite orthodox, +we will make our own introduction--I am Michael Arranstoun--and you +are----?" + +The girl rose and made him a polite bow. "I am Sabine Delburg," she +announced. He bowed also--and then she went into a peal of silvery +laughter that seemed to contain all the glad notes of spring and youth. +"Oh, this is fun! and I--I should like some tea!" She caught sight of +herself in an old mirror, which stood upon a commode. "Goodness, what a +guy I look! Why didn't you tell me that my hat was crooked!" She settled +it straight, and began searching for a handkerchief up her sleeve and in +her belt, but none was to be found. + +So Mr. Arranstoun handed her a clean one he chanced to have in his +pocket. "I expect you want to wipe the smudge of dirt off your face," he +hazarded. + +She took it laughing, and showing an even row of beautiful teeth between +red, full baby lips. + +"You are the owner of this castle," she went on, as she gave firm rubs +at the velvet pink cheeks. "That must be nice. You can do what you like, +I suppose," and here a sigh of regret escaped and made her voice lower. + +"I wish I _could_," Mr. Arranstoun answered feelingly. + +"Well, if I were _a man_, I would!" + +"What would you do?" + +She turned and faced him, while she said, with extreme solemnity: + +"I should never marry Mr. Greenbank." + +Michael laughed. + +"I don't suppose you would if you were a man!" At this moment, a footman +answered the bell. "Bring tea, please," his master ordered, inwardly +amused at the servant's astonished face, and then when they were alone +again, he continued his sympathetic questioning. + +"Who is Mr. Greenbank? You had to flee from him--you said he was horrid, +I believe?" + +Miss Delburg had removed her hat, and was trying to tidy her hair before +readjusting it; she had the hat-pin in her mouth, but took it out to +answer vehemently: + +"So he is, a pig! And I went and got engaged to him this morning! You +see," turning to the glass again, quite unembarrassed, "I can't get my +money until I am married--and Uncle is so disagreeable, and Aunt Jemima +nags all day long, and it was left in Papa's will that I was to live +with them--and I don't come of age until I am twenty-one, but I can get +the money directly if I marry--I was seventeen in May, and of course no +one could stand it till twenty-one! Mr. Greenbank is the only person +who has asked me, and Aunt Jemima says no one else ever will! I have +been out of the Convent for a whole month, and I can't bear it." + +Michael was beginning really to enjoy himself. She was something so +fresh, so entirely different to anything he had ever seen in his life +before. There was nothing of shyness or awkwardness in her manner, as +any English girl would have shown. She was absolutely at ease, with a +childish, confiding innocence which he saw plainly was real, and not put +on for his benefit. It was almost incredible in these up-to-date days. A +most engaging morsel of seventeen summers, he decided, as he answered +with over-grave concern: + +"What a hard fate!--but you have not told me yet why you ran away!" + +The girl had finished her toilet by now, and reseated herself with a +grown-up air in the big armchair. + +"Oh! well, he was just--horrid--that was all," and then abruptly turning +the conversation, "It is a nice place you have here, and it does feel +lovely doing something wrong like this--having tea with you, I mean. You +know, I have never spoken to a young man before. The Nuns always told us +they were dreadful creatures--but you don't look so bad--" and she +examined her host critically. + +Michael accepted the implied appreciation. + +"What is Mr. Greenbank, then?" + +The silver laugh rang out again, while she jumped up and peeped from +the window into the courtyard. + +"Samuel--he's only a thing! Oh! Uncle and Aunt would be so angry if they +could see me here! And I expect they are all in a fine fuss now to know +what has happened to me! They never saw me go through the door, and I +hope they think that I've committed suicide out of one of the windows. +Look!" and she danced excitedly, "there is Uncle talking to the +commissionaire. Oh, what fun!" + +Mr. Arranstoun peeped, too--and saw a spare, elderly American of grim +appearance in anxious confab with Alexander Armstrong. + +The whole situation struck him as delightful, and he laughed gaily, +while he suggested: "You are perhaps rather a difficult charge?" + +Miss Delburg resented this at once. + +"What an idea! How would you like to marry Mr. Greenbank, or stay with +Aunt Jemima for four years!" + +"Well, you see, I can't contemplate it, as I am not a girl!" + +Again those white teeth showed, and the violet eyes were suffused with +laughter. + +"No! Of course not. How silly I am--but I mean, how would you care to be +forced to do something you did not like?" + +Michael thought of his own fate. + +"By Jove! I should hate it!" + +"Well--you can understand me!" + +Then the door opened, and the butler and footman brought in the tea, +eyeing their master's guest furtively, while they maintained that +superbly aloof manner of well-bred English servants. The pause their +entrance caused gave Mr. Arranstoun time to think, and an idea gradually +began to unfold itself in his brain--and unconsciously he took out, and +then replaced in his breast pocket, a mauve, closely-written letter, +while a frown of deep cogitation crept over his face. + +Miss Delburg, for her part, was only thrilled with the sight of the very +agreeable tea, and after waiting a moment to see what her preoccupied +host would do when the servants left the room, hunger forced her to fall +to the temptation of a particularly appetizing chocolate cake, which she +surreptitiously seized, and began munching with the frank joy of a +child. + +"I do love them!" she sighed, "and we never were allowed them, only once +a month after Moravia Cloudwater got that awful toothache, and had to +have a big grinder pulled out." + +Michael was paying no attention to her; he had walked rapidly up and +down the room once or twice, much to her astonishment. + +At last he spoke. + +"I have an idea--but first let me give you some tea--No--do help +yourself," then he paused awkwardly, and she at once proceeded to fill +her cup. + +Binko had condescended to emerge from his basket under the table. +Tea-time was an hour when he allowed himself to take an interest in +human beings. + +"Oh! you darling!" the girl cried, putting down her cup. "You fat, +lovely, wrinkly darling!" + +"He is a nice dog," his master admitted; his voice was actually +nervous--and he pulled Binko to him by his solid, fleshy paws, while he +sat down in his chair again. + +Miss Delburg had got back into her seat, where she munched a cake and +continued her tea. The chair was so deep and long that her little bits +of feet did not nearly reach the ground, but dangled there. + +"Mayn't I pour you out some, too?" she asked, getting forward again. "I +do love to pour out--and do you take sugar--? I like lumps and lumps of +it." + +"Oh--er--yes," Michael agreed absently, and then he went on with the +determined air of a person getting something off his chest. "I hardly +know how to say what I am thinking of, it sounds so strange. Listen--I +also must marry someone--anyone--to avert a fate I don't want--What do +you say to marrying _me_?" + +The teapot came down into the tray with a bump, while the round, +childish eyes grew like saucers with astonishment. + +"Oh!" + +"I dare say it does surprise you--" Michael then hastened to add. "I +mean, we should only go through the ceremony, of course, and you could +get your money and I my freedom." + +The girl clasped her hands round her knees. + +"And I should never have to see you again?" in a glad voice of +comprehension. + +Michael leaned forward nearer to her. + +"Well--no--never, unless you wished." + +Miss Delburg actually kicked her feet with delight. + +"It is a perfectly splendid suggestion," she announced. "We could just +oblige one another in this way, and need never see or speak to each +other again. What made it come into your head? Do you really think we +could do that--Oh! how rude of me--I've forgotten to pour out your tea!" + +"Never mind, talking about--our marriage--is more interesting," and Mr. +Arranstoun's blue eyes filled with mischievous appreciation of the +situation, even beyond the seriousness of the discussion he meant to +carry to an end. But this aspect did not so much concern Miss Delburg, +as that she had let slip a particular pleasure for the moment, that of +being allowed a teapot in her own hand, instead of being given a huge +bowl of milk with a drop of weak coffee mixed in it, and watching a like +fate fall upon her companions. + +When this delightful business was accomplished to her satisfaction, her +sweet little round face a model of serious responsibility the while, she +handed Michael the cup and drew herself back once more into the depth +of the giant chair. + +"I can't behave nicely in this great creature," she said, patting the +fat cushioned arms, "and the Mother Superior would be horribly shocked, +but don't let's mind. Now, do tell me something about this plan. You +see," gravely, "I really don't know the world very well yet--I have +always been at the Convent near Tours until a month ago--even in the +holidays, since I was seven--and the Sisters never told me anything +about outside, except that it was a place of pitfalls and that men were +dreadful creatures. I was very happy there, except I wanted to get out +all the time, and when I did and found Uncle and Aunt more tiresome than +the Sisters--there seemed no help for it--only Mr. Greenbank. So I +accepted him this morning. But--" and this awful thought caused her +whole countenance to change. "Now I come to think of it, the usual +getting married means you would have to stay with the man--wouldn't you? +And he wants--he wants to kiss--I mean," hurriedly, "you would be lovely +to marry because I would never have to see you again!" + +Michael Arranstoun put his head back and laughed; she was perfectly +delicious--he began to dislike Mr. Greenbank. + +His tea was quite forgotten. + +"Er--of course not," he agreed. "Well, I could get a special license, +if you could tell me exactly how you stand, and your whole name and your +parents' names, and everything, and we could get their consent--but I +conclude your father, at least, is no longer alive." + +Miss Delburg had a very grown-up air now. + +"No, my parents are both dead," she told him. "Papa three years ago, and +Mamma for ages, and I never saw them much anyhow. They were always +travelling about, and Mamma was a Frenchwoman and a Catholic. Her family +did not speak to her because she married a Protestant and an American. +And the worry it was for me being brought up in a convent! because Papa +would have me a Protestant, so I do believe I have got a little religion +of my own that is not like either!" + +"Yes?" + +She continued her narrative in the intervals of the joy of munching +another cake. + +"Papa was very rich, and it's all mine--Only it appears he did not +approve of the freedom of American women--and so tied it up so that I +can't get it until I am an old maid of twenty-one--or get married. Is it +not disgusting?" + +Michael's thoughts were now concentrating upon the vital points. + +"But have you not got a guardian or something?" + +"Not exactly. Only an old lawyer person who is now in London. I have +seen Papa's will, and I know I can marry when and whom I like if I get +his consent--and he would give it in a minute, he is sick of me!" + +"How fortunate!" Then restlessness seized him again, and he got up, +gulped down his tea, and began his pacing. + +"I do think it would be a good plan, and we must do it if we can get +this person's leave--Yes, and do it quickly before we change our minds, +or something interferes. Everyone would think we were perfectly mad, but +as it suits us both, that is no one's business--Only--you are rather +young--and er--I don't know Greenbank. You are sure he is horrid?" + +The girl clasped her hands together with force. + +"Sure! I should think so--He wears glasses, and has nasty, scrabbly bits +of fur on his face, which he thinks is a beard, and he is pompous and he +talks like this," and she imitated a precise Boston voice. "'My dear +Sabine--have you considered,' and he is lanky--and Oh! I detest him, and +I can't imagine why I ever said I would marry him--but if I don't, what +_am_ I to do with Aunt Jemima for four years! I should die of it." + +Michael sat on the edge of the table and looked at her long and deeply. +He took in the childish picture she made in the big chair. He had no +definite appreciation then of her charm, his mind was too fixed upon +what seemed a prospect of certain escape from Violet Hatfield and her +cunning thirty years of experience. This young thing could not interfere +with him, and divorces in Scotland were not impossible things--they +would both gain what they wanted for the time, and it was a fair +bargain. So he said, after a moment: + +"I will go up to London to-morrow, and if it is as you say that you are +free to marry whom and when you will, I will try to get this old +lawyer's consent and a special license--But how about your Uncle? Has he +not any legal right over you?" + +Miss Delburg laughed contentedly. + +"Not in the least--only that I have to live with him until I am married. +Mr. Parsons--that's the lawyer's name--hates him, and he hates Mr. +Parsons. So I know Mr. Parsons will be delighted to spite him by giving +his consent, if you just say Uncle Mortimer is trying to force me into a +marriage against my will with his nephew--Samuel Greenbank is his +nephew, you know--no relation to me. It is Aunt Jemima who is Papa's +sister." + +All this seemed quite convincing. Michael felt relieved. + +"I see," he said. "Well, it appears simple enough. I believe I could be +back by Thursday, and I could have my chaplain and a friend of mine, and +we could get the affair over in the chapel--and then you can go back to +the Inn with your certificate--and I can go to Paris--free!" And his +thoughts added, "And even if poor Maurice does die soon, I need fear +nothing!" + +Now that their two fates seemed settled, Miss Delburg got out of the +chair and stood up in a dignified way; her soft cheeks were the color of +a glowing pink rose, and her violet eyes shone with fun and excitement, +her little, irregular features and perfect teeth seemed to add to the +infantine aspect of the picture she made in her unfashionable pink +cotton frock. Dress had been strongly discouraged at the Convent, and +was looked upon by Aunt Jemima, a strict New Englander, as a snare of +the devil, but even the garment, in the selecting of which she had had +no hand, seemed to hang with grace upon the child's slim figure. + +Not a doubt as to the future clouded her thoughts; it was all a glorious +piece of fun, and of all the daring tricks she had perpetrated at the +Convent to get chocolates, or climb a tree, or have a midnight orgy of +cake and sirop, none had been so exciting as this--to go through the +ceremony of marriage and be free for life! + +Her education had been of the most elementary, and the whole aim of +those placed over her had been to keep her as innocent and ignorant as a +child of ten. Not a single problem of life had ever presented itself to +her naturally intelligent mind. She had read no books, conversed with no +grown-up people, played with no one but her companions, three American +girls and a few French ones, and the simple Nuns. And since her +emancipation, she had but wandered in the English lakes with her uncle +and aunt and Samuel Greenbank, and so had come to Arranstoun like any +other tourist to see this famous castle still inhabited after eleven +hundred years. + +In these days of women giving daily proof of their capability for +irritating mischief, if not of their ability to rule nations, Sabine +Delburg was a very unique being, and could not have existed but for a +combination of rare circumstances, as she was half American and half +French and had inherited the quick understanding of both nations. But +from the age of seven, she had never seen the outside world. It is not +my place, in any case, to explain what she was or was not. The creature, +with all her faults and charms, is there to speak for herself--and if +you, my friend, who are reading this tale on a summer's day do not feel +you want to hear any more of what happened to these two young things, by +all means put down the book and go your way! + +So let us get back to Mr. Arranstoun's sitting-room and the June +afternoon, and we shall hear Miss Delburg saying, in her childish voice +of joy: + +"Nothing could be better--I always did like doing mad things. It will be +the greatest fun! Think of their faces when I prance in and say I am +married! Then I will snap my fingers at them and go off and see the +world." + +Michael knelt upon a low old _prie dieu_ which was near, and looked into +her face--while he asked, whimsically: + +"I do wonder where you will begin." + +Miss Delburg now sat upon the edge of the table; this was a grave +question and must be answered at leisure, though without indecision. + +"Oh, I know," she announced. "There was my great friend, Moravia +Cloudwater, at the Convent. She was older than me, and went to Paris +with her father and married an Italian prince last year. I have heard +from her since, and she has often wanted me to go and stay with her in +Rome--and I shall now. Morri and I are the dearest friends--and her +things did look lovely the day she came to see us at Tours--with the +prince's coronet on them--" and then the first shadow came to her +contentment. "That is the only pity about you--even with a castle, you +haven't a coronet, I suppose?" regretfully. "I should have liked one on +my handkerchiefs and note-paper." + +Michael felt his shortcomings. + +"The title was taken away when we followed Prince Charlie and we only +got back the land by the skin of our teeth after an awful business so I +am afraid I cannot do that for you--but perhaps," consolingly, "you will +have better luck next time." + +This brought some comfort. + +"Why, of course! we can get a divorce--as soon as we want. Moravia had +an aunt, who simply went to Sioux Falls and got one at once and married +someone else, so it's not the least trouble. Oh, I am glad you have +thought of this plan. It is clever of you!" + +Mr. Arranstoun felt that he was becoming rather too interested in +his--_fiancee_ and time was passing. Her family might discover where she +was--or Henry might return; he must clinch matters finally. + +"I think we must come to business details now," he said. "Had you not +better write a letter to Mr. Parsons that I could take, stating your +wishes; and will you also write down upon another piece of paper all the +details of your name, age--and so forth----" + +He now showed her his writing-table and gave her paper and pens to +choose from. + +She sat down gravely, and put her hands to her head as one thinking +hard. Then she began rapidly to write--while Mr. Arranstoun watched her +from the hearth-rug, to where he had retired. + +She evidently wrote out the statistics required first, and then began +her letter. And at last she turned a rogue's face with a perplexed frown +on it, while she bit her pen. + +"How do you spell indigenous, please?" + +He started forward. + +"'Indigenous'?--what a grand word!--i-n-d-i-g-e-n-o-u-s." + +"One has to be grand when writing business letters," she told him, +condescendingly, and then finished her missive. + +"There--that will do! Now listen!" + +She got up and stood with the sheet in her hand, and read off the +remarkable document without worrying much about stops or commas. + + "Dear Mr. Parsons: + + "Papa said I could marry who I wanted to provided that he was + decent, so please give your written consent to the _grand seigneur_ + who brings this. His name is Arranstoun, and he is indigenous to + this Castle, and really an aristocrat who papa and mamma would have + approved of, although he unfortunately has no title----" + +"I had to put in that, you see," and she looked up explainingly, +"because it sounds so ordinary if he'd never heard of Arranstoun--we +wouldn't have, only Uncle Mortimer was looking out for old ruins to +visit--well," and she continued her recital, while Michael lowered his +head to hide the smile in his eyes. + + "We wish to get married on Thursday so please be quick about the + consent, as Uncle Mortimer wants me to marry his nephew, Samuel + Greenbank, who I hate. Agree, sir, the expression of my sentiments, + the most distinguished + + "Sabine Delburg." + + "P.S. I will want all my money, 50,000 dollars a year I believe it + is, on Friday morning." + +Then she looked up with pride. + +"Don't you think that will do?" + +Michael was overcome--his voice shook with enchanted mirth. + +"Admirably," he assured her, with what solemnity he could. + +Sabine seemed thoroughly satisfied with herself. + +"That's all right, then. Now I must be off, or they will be coming to +look for me, and that would be a bore." + +"But we have not made all the arrangements for our wedding." The +prospective bridegroom thought it prudent to remind her. "When can you +come on Thursday? My train gets in about six." + +"Thursday," and she contracted her dark eyebrows. "Let me see--Yes, we +are staying until Saturday to see the remains of Elbank Monastery--but I +don't know how I can slip away, unless--only it would be so late. I +could say I had a headache and go to bed early without dinner, and get +here about eight while they were having theirs. It is still quite +light--I often had to pretend things at the Convent to get a moment's +peace." + +Michael reflected. + +"Better not chance eight--as you say it is quite light then and they +might see you. Slip out of the hotel at nine. The park gate is, as you +know, right across the road. I will wait for you inside, and we can walk +here in a few minutes--and come up these balcony steps--and the chapel +is down that passage--through this door. See." + +He went and opened the door, and she followed him--talking as she +walked. + +"Nine! Oh! that is late--I have never been out so late before--but it +can't matter--just this once--can it? And here in the north it is so +funny; it is light at nine, too! Perhaps it would be safest." Then, +peering down the vaulted passage and drawing back, "It is a gloomy hole +to get married in!" + +"You won't say so when you see the chapel itself," he reassured her. "It +is rather a beautiful place. Whenever any of my ancestors committed a +particularly atrocious raid, and wanted to be absolved for their sins, +they put in a window or a painting or carving. The family was Catholic +until my grandfather's time, and then High Church, so the glories have +remained untouched." + +Sabine kept close to him as they walked, as a child afraid of the dark +would have done. It seemed to her too like her recent experience of the +secret passage, and then she exclaimed in a voice of frank awe and +admiration, when he opened the nail-studded, iron-bound door at the end: + +"Oh! how divine!" + +And it was indeed. A gem of the finest period of early Gothic +architecture, adorned with all trophies which love, fear and contrition +could compel from the art of the ages. Glorious colored lights swept +down in shafts from matchless stained glass, and the high altar was a +blaze of richness, while beautiful paintings and tapestries covered the +walls. + +It was gorgeous and sumptuous, and unlike anything else in England or +Scotland. It might have been the private chapel of a proud, voluptuous +Cardinal in Rome's great days. + +"Why is that one little window plain?" Sabine asked. + +Then Michael answered with a cynical note in his voice: + +"It is left for me--I, who am the last of them, to put up some expiatory +offering, I expect. Rapine and violence are in the blood," and then he +laughed lightly, and led her back through the gloom to his sitting-room. +There was a strange, fierce light in his bright blue eyes, which the +child-woman did not see, and which, if she had perceived, she would not +have understood any more than he understood it himself--for no concrete +thought had yet come to him about the future. Only, there underneath was +that mighty force, relentless, inexorable, of heredity, causing the +instinct which had dominated the Arranstouns for eleven hundred years. + +He did not seek to detain his guest and promised bride--but, with great +courtesy, he showed her the way down the stairs of the lawn, and so +through the postern into the park, and he watched her slender form trip +off towards the gate which was opposite the Inn, her last words ringing +in his ears in answer to his final question. + +"No, I shall not fail--I will leave the Crown at nine o'clock exactly on +Thursday." + +Then turning, he retraced his steps to his sitting-room, and there found +Henry Fordyce returned. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +"Well, old boy!" Mr. Fordyce greeted him with. "You should have been +with me and had a good round of golf--but perhaps, though, you have made +up your mind!" + +Michael flung himself into his great chair. + +"Yes--I have--and I have got a fiancee." + +Mr. Fordyce was not disturbed; he did not even answer this absurd +remark, he just puffed his cigar--cigarettes were beneath his notice. + +"You don't seem very interested," his host ejaculated, rather +aggrievedly. + +"Tommyrot!" + +"I tell you, it is true. I have got a fiancee." + +"My dear fellow, you are mad!" + +"No, I assure you I am quite sane--I have found a way out of the +difficulty--an angel has dropped from the clouds to save me from Violet +Hatfield." + +Henry Fordyce was actually startled. Michael looked as though he were +talking seriously. + +"But where did she come from? What the--Oh! I have no patience with you, +you old fool! You are playing some comedy upon me!" + +"Henry, I give you my word, I'm not--I am going to marry a most +presentable young person at nine o'clock on Thursday night in the chapel +here--and you are going to stay and be best man." Then his excitement +began to rise again, and he got up from his chair and paced up and down +restlessly. "It is the very thing. She wants her money and I want my +freedom. She gets hers by marriage, and I get mine. I don't care a rush +for domestic bliss, it has never appealed to me; and the fellow in +Australia who'll come after me has got a boy who will do all right, no +doubt, for the old place by and by. I shall have a perfectly free time +and no responsibilities--and, thank the Lord! no more women for me for +the future. I have done with the snakes. I shall be happy and free for +the first time for a whole year!" + +Mr. Fordyce actually let his cigar go out. This incredible story was +beginning to have an effect upon him. + +"But where did she come from?" he asked blandly, as one speaks to a +harmless imbecile. "I leave you here in an abject state of despair, +ready almost to decide upon marrying old Bessie, and I return in an hour +and you inform me everything is settled, and you are the fiance of +another lady! You know, you surprise me, Michael--'Pon my word, you do!" + +Michael laughed, it was really a huge joke. + +"Yes, it is quite true. Well, just as I was going to ring and send +James for Bessie to talk it over with her, there was no end of a +smash--as you see--and a girl--a tourist--fell through the secret door. +I haven't opened it for five years. She was running away from a horrid +fellow she was engaged to, it seems, and fled into the passage, and the +door shut after her and she could not get out, so she pushed on in +here." + +"It adds dramatic color to the story, the girl being engaged to someone +else--pray go on." + +Mr. Fordyce had now picked up his cigar again. This preposterous tale no +longer interested him. He thought it even rather bad taste on the part +of his friend. + +"All right!" Michael explained. "You need not believe me if you don't +like. I don't care, since I have done what I wanted to. Bar chaff, +Henry, I am telling you the truth. The girl appears to be a young woman +of decision. She explained at once her circumstances, and it struck us +both that to go through the ceremony of marriage would smooth all our +difficulties. We can easily get the bond annulled later on." + +Henry Fordyce put down his cigar again. + +"I am off to town to-night. You won't mind, will you?" Michael went on. +"Just to see if everything is all right, and to get her guardian's +consent and a special license, and I shall be back by the six o'clock +train on Thursday in time to get the ceremony over that night; and then, +by the early morning express, if you'll wait till then, we'll go South +together, and so for Paris and freedom!" + +Henry actually rose from his chair. + +"And the bride?" he asked. + +Michael laughed. "Oh, she may go to the moon, for all I care; she leaves +directly after the ceremony with her certificate of marriage, which she +means to brandish in the face of her relations, who are staying at the +Inn, and so exit out of my life! It is only an affair of expediency." + +"It is the affair of a madman." + +Michael frowned, and his firm chin looked aggressive. + +"It is nothing of the kind. You told me yourself that you would rather +marry old Bessie--a woman of eighty-four--than Violet Hatfield; and now, +when I have found a much more suitable person--a pretty little lady--you +begin to talk. My mind is made up, and there is an end of it." + +Mr. Fordyce interrupted. + +"Bessie would have been much more suitable--a plain pretext; but you +have no idea what complications you may be storing up for yourself by +marrying a young girl--What is the sense in it?" he continued, a little +excited now. "The younger and prettier she is makes her all the more +unsuitable to be used merely as a tool in your game. Confound it, +Michael!" + +"And her game, too," his host reminded him. His eyes were flashing now, +and that expression, which all his underlings knew meant he intended to +have his own will at any cost, grew upon his face. + +"You forget that in Scotland divorce is not an impossibility and--_I am +going to do it, Henry_. Now, I had better write to old Fergusson, my +chaplain, and tell him to be in readiness, and I suppose I ought to see +my lawyers in Edinburgh, although, as there are no settlements and it is +just between ourselves, perhaps it does not matter about them." + +"How old is the girl?" Mr. Fordyce felt it prudent to ask. "It is a +pretty serious thing you contemplate, you know." + +"Oh! rot!--she is seventeen, I believe--and for that sort of a marriage +and mere business arrangement, her age is no consequence." + +Henry turned to the window and looked out for a moment, then he said +gravely: + +"Is it quite fair to her?" + +Michael had gone to his writing-table, and was busily scribbling to his +chaplain, but he looked over his shoulder startled, and then a gleam of +blue fire came into his eyes, and his handsome mouth shut like a vise. + +"Of course, it is quite fair. She wishes to be free as much as I do. She +gets what she wants and I get what I want--a mere ceremony can be +annulled at any time. She jumped at the idea, I tell you, Henry--I have +not got time to go into the pros and cons of that side of the question, +and I don't want to hear your views or any one else's on the matter. I +mean to marry the girl on Thursday night--and you can quite well put off +going South until Friday morning, and see me through it." + +Mr. Fordyce prepared to go towards the door, and when there said, in a +voice of ice: + +"I shall do no such thing. I cannot prevent your doing this, I +suppose--taking advantage of a young girl for your own ends, it seems to +me--so I shall go now." + +Michael's temper began to blaze with this, his oldest friend. + +"As you please," he flashed. "But it is perfect rot, all this high +palaver. The girl gains by it as well as I. I am not taking the least +advantage of her. I shall have to get her guardian's consent, and I +suppose he'll know what he is up to. I have never taken any one's +advice, and I am not going to begin now, old boy--so we had better say +good-bye if you won't stop." + +He came over to the door, and then he smiled his radiant, irresistible +smile so like a mischievous jolly boy's. + +"Give me joy, Henry, old friend," he said, and held out his hand. + +But Henry Fordyce looked grave as a judge as he took it. + +"I can't do that, Michael. I am very angry with you. I have known you +ever since you were born, and we have been real pals, although I am so +much older than you--but I'm damned if I'll stay and see you through +this folly. Good-bye." And without a word further he went out of the +room, closing the door softly behind him. + +Michael gave a sort of whoop to Binko, who sprang at him in love and +excitement, while he cried: + +"Very well! Get along, old saint!" + +Then he rang the bell, and to the footman when he came he handed the +note he had written to be taken to Mr. Fergusson, and sent orders for +Johnson to pack for two nights, and for his motor to be ready to catch +the 10:40 express at the junction for London town. Then he seized his +cap and, calling Binko, he went off into the garden, and so on to the +park and to the golf house, where, securing his professional, he played +a vigorous round, and when he got back to the castle again, just before +dinner, he was informed that Mr. Fordyce had left in his own motor for +Edinburgh. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +An opalescence of soft light and peace and beauty was over the park of +Arranstoun on this June night of its master's wedding, and he walked +among the giant trees to the South Lodge gate, only a few hundred yards +from the postern, which he reached from his sitting-room. All had gone +well in London. Mr. Parsons had raised no objection, being indeed +greatly flattered at the proposed alliance--for who had not heard of the +famous border Castle of Arranstoun and envied its possessor? + +They had talked a long time and settled everything. + +"Tie up the whole of Miss Delburg's money entirely upon herself," Mr. +Arranstoun had said--"if it is not already done--then we need not bother +about settlements. I understand that she is well provided for." + +"And how about your future children?" Mr. Parsons asked. + +Michael stiffened suddenly as he looked out of the office window. + +"Oh--er, they will naturally have all I possess," he returned quickly. + +And now as he neared the Lodge gate, and nine o'clock struck, a +suppressed excitement was in his veins. For no matter how eventful your +life may be, or how accustomed you are to chances and vivid amusements, +to be facing a marriage ceremony with a practically unknown young woman +has aspects of originality in it calculated to set the pulses in motion. + +He had almost forgotten that side of the affair which meant freedom and +safety for him from the claws of the Spider--although he had learned +upon his return home from London that she had, as Henry Fordyce had +predicted that she might, "popped in upon him," having motored over from +Ebbsworth, and had left him a letter of surprised, intense displeasure +at his unannounced absence. + +When five minutes had passed, and there was as yet no sign of his +promised bride crossing the road from the Inn, Mr. Arranstoun began to +experience an unpleasant impatience. The quarter chimed--his temper +rose--had she been playing a trick upon him and never intended at any +time to come? He grew furious--and paced the fine turf behind the Lodge, +swearing hotly as was his wont when enraged. + +Then he saw a little figure wrapped in a gray dust cloak much too big +for it advancing cautiously to the gate in the twilight, and he bounded +forward to meet her and to open the narrow side-entrance before the +Lodge-keeper, Old Bessie, could have time to see who was there. + +"At last!" he cried, when they were safely inside and had gone a few +paces along the avenue. "I was beginning to think you did not mean to +keep your word! I am glad you have come!" + +"Why, of course I meant to keep my word. I never break it," Sabine said +astonished. "I am longing to be free just like you are, but I had an +awful business to get away! I have never been so excited in my life! +Their train was late--some breakdown on the branch line--they did not +get in until half-past eight, and I dare not be all dressed, but had to +pretend to be in bed, covered up, still with the awful headache, when +Aunt Jemima bounced in." Then she laughed joyously at the recollection +of her escape. "The moment she had gone off to her supper, tucking me up +for the night, I jumped up and got on my dress and hat and her dust +cloak and then I had to watch my moment, creep down those funny little +stairs, and out of the side door--and so across here. You know it was +far harder to manage than the last feast Moravia Cloudwater and I gave +to the girls the night before she went to Paris! Isn't it fun! I do like +having these adventures, don't you?" + +"Yes," said Michael, and looked down into her face. + +She was extremely pretty, he thought, in the soft dusk of this Northern +evening. Her leghorn hat with its wreath of blue forget-me-nots was most +becoming and her brown hair was ruffled a little by the hat's hasty +donning. + +[Illustration: "He bounded forward to meet her"] + +"I needn't keep this old cloak on, need I?" she asked. "Nobody can see +us here and it is so hot." + +He helped her off with it and carried it for her. She looked prettier +still now, the slender lines of her childish figure were so exquisite in +their promise of beautiful womanhood later on, and the Sunday frock of +white foulard was most sweet. + +Michael was very silent; it almost made her nervous, but she prattled +on. + +"This is my best frock," she laughed, "because even though it is only a +business arrangement, one couldn't get married in an old blouse, could +one?" + +"Of course not!" and he strode nearer to her. "I am in evening dress, +you see--just like a French bridegroom for those wedding parties in the +Bois! so we are both festive--but here we are at the postern door!" + +He opened it with his key and they stole across the short lawn and up +the balcony steps like two stealthy marauders. Then he turned and held +out his hand to her in the blaze of electric light. + +"Welcome! Oh! it is good of you to have come!" + +She shook hands frankly--it seemed the right thing to do, she felt, +since they were going to oblige one another and both gain their desires. +Then it struck her for the first time that he was a very handsome young +man--quite the Prince Charming of the girls' dreams. A thousand times +finer than Moravia's Italian prince with whom for her part she had been +horribly disappointed when she had seen his photograph. Only it was too +silly to consider this one in that light, since he wasn't really going +to be hers--only a means to an end. Oh! the pleasure to be free and rich +and to do exactly what she pleased! She had been planning all these days +what she would do. She would get back to the Inn not later than ten, and +creep quietly up to her room through that side door which was always +open into the yard. The weather was so beautiful it would be nothing, +even if the Inn people did see her entering--she might have been out for +a stroll in the twilight. Then at six in the morning she would creep out +again and go to the station; there was a train which left for Edinburgh +at half-past--and there she would get a fast express to London later on, +after a good breakfast; and once in London a cab would take her to Mr. +Parsons', and after that!--money and freedom! + +She had planned it all. She would leave a letter for her Uncle and Aunt, +saying she was married and had gone and they need not trouble themselves +any more about her. Mr. Parsons would tell her where to stay and help +her to get a good maid like Moravia had, and then she would go to Paris +just as Moravia had done and buy all sorts of lovely clothes; it would +take her perhaps a whole month, and then when she was a very grand, +grown-up lady, she would write to her dear friend and say now she was +ready to accept her invitation to go and stay with her! And what +absolute joy to give Moravia such a surprise! to say she was married and +free! and had quite as nice things as even that Princess! It was all a +simply glorious picture--and but for this kind young man it could never +have been hers--but her fate would have been--Samuel Greenbank or Aunt +Jemima for four years! It was no wonder she felt grateful to him! and +that her handshake was full of cordiality. + +Michael pulled himself together rather sharply, the blood was now +running very fast in his veins. + +"Wait here," he said to her, "while I go into the chapel to see if Mr. +Fergusson and the two witnesses are ready." + +They were--Johnson and Alexander Armstrong--and the old chaplain who had +been Michael's father's tutor and was now an almost doddering old +nonentity also stood waiting in his white surplice at the altar rails. + +The candles were all lit and great bunches of white lilies gave forth a +heavy scent. A strange sense of intoxication rose to Michael's brain. +When he returned to his sitting-room he found his bride-to-be arranging +her hat at the old mirror which had reflected her before. + +"Won't you take it off?" he suggested--"and see, I have got you some +flowers----" and he brought her a great bunch of stephanotis which lay +waiting upon a table near. + +"There is no orange-blossom--because that is for real weddings--but +won't you just put this bit of stephanotis in your hair?" and he broke +off a few blooms. + +She was delighted, she loved dressing up, and she fixed it most +becomingly with dexterous fingers above her left ear. + +"You do look sweet," he told her. "Now we must come----" and he gave her +his arm. She took it with that grave look of a child acting in a very +serious grown-up play. She was perfectly delicious with her blooming +youth and freshness and dimples--her violet eyes shining like stars, and +her red full lips pouting like appetizing ripe cherries. Michael +trembled a little as he felt her small hand upon his arm. + +They walked to the altar rails and the ceremony began. + +But, with the first words of the old clergyman's voice, a new and +unknown excitement came over Sabine. The night and the gorgeous chapel +and the candles and the flowers all affected her deeply, just as the +grand feast days used to do at the convent. A sudden realization of the +mystery of things overcame her and frightened her, so that her voice was +hardly audible as she repeated the clergyman's words. + +What were these vows she was making before God? She dared not +think--the whole thing was a maze, a dream. It was too late to run +away--but it was terrible--she wanted to scream. + +At last she felt her bridegroom place the ring upon her finger, now ice +cold. + +And then she was conscious that she was listening to these words: + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." + +After that she must have reeled a little, for she felt a strong arm +encircle her waist for a moment. + +Then she knew she was kneeling and that words of no meaning whatever +were being buzzed over her head. + +And lastly she was vividly awakened to burning consciousness by the +first man's kiss which had ever touched her innocent lips. + +So she was married--and this was her husband, this splendid, beautiful +young man there beside her in his evening clothes--and it was over--and +she was going away and would never see him again--and what had she +done?--and would God be very angry?--since it was all really in a +church! + +Her hand trembled as she wrote her name, Sabine Delburg, for the last +time, and she was shivering all over as she walked back with her +newly-made husband to his sitting-room through the gloomy corridor. +There it was all brilliant light again, the light of soft silk-shaded +lamps--and the center table was cleared and supper for two and opened +champagne awaited them. They were both very pale, and Sabine sat down in +a chair. + +"Mr. Fergusson will bring a copy of the certificate in a minute," +Michael said to her, "and then we can have some supper--but now, come, +we must drink each other's healths." + +He poured out the wine into two glasses and handed her one. She had +never tasted champagne before--but sipped it as she was bid. It did not +seem to her a very nice drink--not to be compared to _sirop aux +fraises_--but she knew at weddings people always had champagne. + +Michael gulped down a bumper, and it steadied his nerves and the fresh, +vigorously healthy color came back to his face. The whole situation had +excited his every sense. + +"Let me wish you all joy--Mrs.--Arranstoun!" he said. + +The little bride laughed her rippling laugh. This brought her back to +earth and the material, jolly side of things, it was so funny to hear +herself thus called. + +"Oh! that does sound odd!" she cried. "I shall never call myself +that--why, people might know I must be something connected with this +castle, and they would be questioning, and I couldn't have a scrap of +fun! You have got another name--you said it just now, 'Michael Howard +Arranstoun'--that will do. I shall be Mrs. Howard! It is quite +ordinary--and shall I be a widow? I've never thought of all this yet. +Oh! it will be fun." + +Every second of the time her charm was further affecting Michael--he was +not conscious of any definite intention--only to talk to her--to detain +her as long as possible. She was like a breath of exquisite spring air +after Violet Hatfield. + +Mr. Fergusson here came in from the chapel with the certificate--and his +presence seemed a great bore, and after thanking him for his services, +Michael poured him out some wine to drink their healths, and then the +butler announced that the brougham was waiting at the door to take the +old gentleman home. + +Sabine had stood up on his entrance and came forward to wish him +good-bye; now that the certificate was there she intended to go herself +by the balcony steps as soon as he should be safely off by the door. + +"Good-bye, my dear young lady, I have known your husband since he was +born, and with all his faults he is a splendid fellow; let me wish you +every happiness and prosperity together and may you be blessed with many +children and peace." + +Sabine stiffened--she felt she ought to enlighten the benevolent old +man, who evidently did not understand at all that she was going to trip +off--not as he, just to her own home, but out of Mr. Arranstoun's life +forever--but no suitable words would come, and Michael, afraid of what +she might say, hurried his chaplain off without more ado and then +returned to her and shut the door. + +Now they were absolutely alone and the clock struck ten in the courtyard +with measured strokes. + +"Let us begin supper," he said, with what calmness he could. + +"But I ought to go back at once," his bride protested; "the Inn may be +shut and then what in the world should I do?" + +"There is plenty of time, it certainly won't close its doors until +eleven--have some soup--or a cold quail and some salad--and see, I have +not forgotten the wedding-cake--you must cut that!" + +Sabine was very hungry; she had had to pretend her head was aching too +much to go with her elders to the ruins of Elbank and had retired to her +room before they left, and had had no tea, and such dainties were not to +be resisted, especially the cake! After all, it could not be any harm +staying just this little while longer since no one would ever know, and +people who got married always did cut their own cakes. So she sat down +and began, he taking every care of her. They had the merriest supper, +and even the champagne, more of which he gave her, did not taste so +nasty after the first sip. + +She had quail and salad and a wonderful ice--better than any, even on +the day of the holiday for Moravia's wedding far away in Rome; and +there were marrons glaces, too, and other divine bon-bons--and +strawberries and cream! + +She had never enjoyed herself so much in her whole life. Her perfectly +innocent prattle enchanted Michael more and more with its touches of +shrewd common sense. He drank a good deal of champagne, too--and +finally, when it came to cutting the cake time, a wild thought began to +enter his head. + +The icing was rather hard, and he had to help her--and stood beside her, +very near. + +She looked up smilingly and saw something in his face. It caused her a +sudden wild emotion of she knew not what--and then she felt very nervous +and full of fear. + +She moved abruptly away from him to the other side of the table, leaving +the cake--and stood looking at him with great, troubled, violet eyes. + +He followed her. + +"You little, sweet darling!" he whispered, his voice very deep. "Why +should you ever go away from me--I want to teach you to love me, Sabine. +You belong to me, you know--you are mine. I shall not let you leave me! +I shall keep you and hold you close!" + +And he clasped her in his arms. + +For he was a man, you see--and the moment had come! + + + + +CHAPTER V + +FIVE YEARS AFTERWARDS + + +Mr. Elias Cloudwater came up the steps of the Savoy Hotel at Carlsbad, +and called to the Arab who was waiting about: + +"Has the Princess come in from her drive yet?" + +He was informed that she had not, and he sat down in the verandah to +wait. He was both an American gentleman and an American father, +therefore he was accustomed to waiting for his women folk and did not +fidget. He read the _New York Herald_, and when he had devoured the +share list, he glanced at the society news and read that, among others +who were expected at the Bohemian health resort that day, was Lord +Fordyce, motoring, for a stay of three weeks for the cure. + +He did not know this gentleman personally, and the fact would not have +arrested his attention at all only that he chanced to be interested in +English politics. He wondered vaguely if he would be an agreeable +acquisition to the place, and then turned to more thrilling things. +Presently a slender young woman came down the path through the woods and +leisurely entered the gate. Mr. Cloudwater watched her, and a kindly +smile lit his face. He thought how pretty she was, and how glad he was +that she had joined Moravia and himself again this summer. The months +when she went off by herself to her house in Brittany always seemed very +long. He saw her coming from far enough to be able to take in every +detail about her. Extreme slenderness and extreme grace were her +distinctive marks. The face was childish and rounded in outline, but +when you looked into the violet eyes there was some shadow of a story +hidden there. She was about twenty-two years old, and was certainly not +at Carlsbad for any reasons of cure, for her glowing complexion told a +tale of radiant health. + +Her white clothes were absolutely perfect in their simplicity, and so +was her air of unconcern and indifference. "The enigma" her friends +often called her. She seemed so frank and simple, and no one ever got +beyond the wall of what she was really thinking--what did she do with +her life? It seemed ridiculous that any one so rich and attractive and +young should care to pass long periods of time at a wild spot near +Finisterre, in an old chateau perched upon the rocks, completely alone +but for an elderly female companion. + +There was, of course, some hidden tragedy about her husband--who was a +raging lunatic or an inebriate shut up somewhere--perhaps there! They +had had to part at once--he had gone mad on the wedding journey, some +believed, but others said this was not at all the case, and that she had +married an Indian chief and then parted from him immediately in +America--finding out the horror of being wedded to a savage. No one knew +anything for a fact, only that when she did come into the civilized +world, it was always with the Princess Torniloni and her father, who, if +they knew the truth of Mrs. Howard's story, never gave it away. Men +swarmed around her, but she appeared completely unconcerned and friendly +with them all, and not even the most envious of the other Americans who +were trying to climb into Princess Torniloni's exclusive society had +ever been able to make up any scandals about her. + +"I have had such an enchanting walk, Clowdy, dear," the slim young woman +said as she sat down in a basket-chair near Mr. Cloudwater. "I am so +glad we came here, aren't you?--and I am sure it will do Moravia no end +of good. She passed me as I was coming from the Aberg on her way to Hans +Heiling, so she will not be in yet. Let us have tea." + +The Arab called the waiter, who brought it to them. One or two other +little groups were having some, too, but Mr. Cloudwater's party were +singularly ungregarious, and avoided making acquaintances in hotels. He +and Mrs. Howard chatted alone together over theirs for about half an +hour. Presently there was the noise of a motor arriving. It whirled into +the gate and stopped where they usually do, a little at one side. It +was very dusty and travel-stained, and beside the chauffeur there got +out a tall, fair Englishman. The personnel of the hotel came forward to +meet him with empressement, and as he passed where Mr. Cloudwater and +Mrs. Howard were sitting, they heard him say: + +"My servant brought the luggage by train this morning, so I suppose the +rooms are ready." + +"They are a wonderful race," Mr. Cloudwater remarked, "aren't they, +Sabine. I never can understand why you should so persistently avoid +them--they really have much more in common with ourselves than Latins." + +"That is why perhaps--one likes contrasts--and French and Russians, or +Germans, are far more intelligent. Every one to his taste!" and Mrs. +Howard smiled. + +The Englishman came out again in a few minutes, and sitting down lazily, +as though he were alone upon the balcony terrace, he ordered some tea. +Not the remotest scrap of interest in his surroundings or companions lit +up his face. He might have been forty or forty-two, perhaps, but being +so fair he looked a good deal younger, and had a peculiar distinction of +his own. + +"That is what I object to about them," Mrs. Howard remarked presently, +"their abominable arrogance. Look at that man. It is just as though +there was no one else on this balcony but himself--no one else exists +for him!" + +"Why, Sabine, you are severe! He looks to me to be a pretty +considerably nice man--and he is only reading the paper as I have been +doing myself," Mr. Cloudwater rejoined. "Perhaps he is the English +nobleman who I read was expected to-day--Lord Fordyce, the paper +said--and wasn't that the name of rather a prominent English politician +who had to go into the Upper House last year when his father died--and +it was considered he would be a loss to the Commons?" + +"I really don't know. I don't take the slightest interest in them or +their politics. Ah! here is Moravia----" and both rose to meet a very +charming lady who drove up in a victoria and got out. + +She had all the perfection of detail which characterizes the very +best-dressed American woman--and she had every attraction except, +perhaps, a voice--but even that she knew how to modulate and disguise, +so that it was no wonder that the Princess Torniloni passed for one of +the most beautiful women in Rome or Paris, or Cairo or New York, +whenever she graced any of the cities with her presence. She was a +widow, too, and very rich. The Prince, her husband, had been dead for +nearly two years, and she was wearing grays and whites and mauves. + +He had been a brute, too, but unlike her friend, Mrs. Howard's husband, +he had had the good taste to be killed riding in a steeplechase, and so +all went well, and the pretty Princess was free to wander the world over +with her indulgent father. + +"It is just too lovely for words up in those woods, papa," she said, +"and I have had my tea in a dear little chalet restaurant. You did not +wait for me, I hope?" + +They assured her they had not done so, and she sat down in a comfortable +chair. Her arrival caused a flutter among the other occupants of the +terrace, and even the Englishman glanced up. This group had at last made +some impression it would seem upon the retina of his eye, for he looked +deliberately at them and realized that the two women were quite worthy +of his scrutiny. + +"But I hate Americans," he said to himself. "They are such actresses, +you never know where you are with them--these two, though, appear some +of the best." + +Presently they went into the hotel, passing him very closely--and for a +second his eyes met the violet ones of Sabine Howard, and he was +conscious that he felt distinctly interested, much to his disgust. + +But, after all, he was here for a cure and a rest, and he had always +believed in women as recreations. + +His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant, and later he wrote +to his friend, Michael Arranstoun, loitering at Ostende: + + The hotel is quite decent--and after your long sojourn in the + wilds, you will have an overdose of polo and expensive ladies and + baccarat. You had much better join me here at the end of the week. + There are two pretty women who would be quite your affair. They + have the next table, and neither of them can be taking the cure. + +But Mr. Arranstoun, when he received this missive, had other things to +do. He had been out of England, and indeed Europe, for nearly five +years--having, in the summer of 1907, joined a friend to explore the +innermost borders of China and Tibet, and there the passion for this +kind of thing had overtaken him, and his own home knew him no more. + +Now, however, he had announced that he had returned for good, and +intended to spend the rest of his days at Arranstoun as a model +landlord. + +He started this by playing polo at Ostende, where he had run across +Henry Fordyce. They had cordially grasped each other's hands, their +estrangement forgotten when face to face; and the only mention there had +been of the circumstances which had caused their parting were in a few +sentences. + +"By Jove, Henry, it is five whole years since you thundered morals at me +and shook the dust of Arranstoun from your feet!" + +"You did behave abominably, Michael--but I am awfully glad to see +you--and the scene at Ebbsworth, when Violet Hatfield read the notice in +the Scotsman of your marriage, made me feel you had been almost +justified in taking any course you could to make yourself safe. But how +about your wife? Have you ever seen her again?" + +"No. My lawyer tells me I can divorce her now for desertion. I should +have to make some pretence of asking her to return to me, he says, which +of course she would refuse to do--and then both can be free, but, for my +part, I am not hankering after freedom much--I do very well as I am--and +I always cherish a rather tender recollection of her." + +[Illustration: "His solitary table was near theirs in the restaurant"] + +Henry laughed. + +"I have often pictured that wedding," he said, "and the little bride +going off with her certificate and your name all alone. No family turned +up awkwardly at the last moment to mar things; she left safely after the +ceremony, eh?" + +Michael looked away suddenly, and then answered with overdone unconcern: + +"Yes--soon after the ceremony." + +"I do wonder you had no curiosity to investigate her character further!" + +"I had--but she did not appreciate my interest--and--after she had +gone--I was rather in a bad temper, and I reasoned myself into believing +she was probably right--also just then I wanted to join Latimer +Berkeley's expedition to China. I remember, his letter about it came by +the next morning's post--so I went--but do you know, Henry, I believe +that little girl made some lasting impression upon me. I believe, if she +had stayed, I should have been frantically in love with her--but she +went, so there it is!" + +"Why don't you try to find her?" Henry asked. + +"Perhaps I mean to some day. I have thought of doing so often, but +first China, and then one thing and another have stopped me--besides, +she may have fancied some other fellow by this time--the whole thing was +one of those colossal mistakes. If we could only have met +ordinarily--and not married in a hurry and then parted--like that." + +"Has it never struck you she was rather young to be left to drift by +herself?" + +"Yes, often--" Then Michael grew a little constrained. "I believe I +behaved like the most impossible brute, Henry--in marrying her at all as +you said--but I would like to make it up to her some day--and I suppose +if, by chance, she has taken a fancy to someone else by this time and +wants to be free of me, I ought to divorce her--but, by Heaven, I +believe I should hate that!" + +"You dog in the manger!" + +"Yes, I am----" + +And so the subject had ended. + +And now Henry, third Lord Fordyce, was taking a mild cure at Carlsbad, +and had decided that in his leisure moments he would begin to write a +book--a project which had long simmered in his brain; but after two days +of sitting by the American party at each meal, a very strong desire to +converse with them--especially the one with the strange violet +eyes--overcame him; and with deliberate intention he scraped +acquaintance with Mr. Cloudwater in the exercise room of the Kaiserbad, +who, with polite ceremony, presented him that evening to his daughter +and her friend. + +Sabine had been particularly silent and irritating, Moravia thought, and +as they went up to bed she scolded her about it. + +"He is a perfect darling, Sabine," she declared, "and will do splendidly +to take walks with us and make the fourth. He is so lazy and English and +phlegmatic--I'd like to make him crazy with love--but he looked at you, +you little witch, not at me at all." + +"You are welcome to him, Morri--I don't care for Englishmen. Good-night, +pet," and Mrs. Howard kissed her friend, and going in to her room, she +shut the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +More than a week went by, and it seemed quite natural now to Lord +Fordyce to shape his days according to the plans of the American party, +and when they met at the Schlossbrunn in the morning at half-past seven, +and he and Mr. Cloudwater and the Princess had drunk their tumblers of +water together, their custom was to go on down to the town and there +find Sabine, who had bought their slices of ham and their rolls, and +awaited them at the end of the Alte Weise with the pink paper bags, and +then the four proceeded to walk to the Kaiser Park to breakfast. + +This meal was so merry, Mrs. Howard tantalizing the others by having +cream in her coffee and sugar upon her wild strawberries, while they +were only permitted to take theirs plain. + +During the stroll there it was Sabine's custom persistently to adhere to +the side of Mr. Cloudwater, leaving the other two tete-a-tete--and, +delightful as Lord Fordyce found the Princess, this irritated him. He +discovered himself, as the days advanced, to be experiencing a distinct +longing to know what was passing in that little head, whose violet eyes +looked out with so much mystery and shadow in their depths. He could not +tell himself that she avoided him; she was always friendly and casual +and perfectly at her ease, but no extra look of pleasure or welcome for +him personally ever came into her face, and never once had he been able +to speak to her really alone. Mr. Cloudwater and the two ladies drove +back from breakfast each day, and he was left to take his exercises and +his bath. Now and then he had encountered the Princess in the near woods +just before luncheon, returning from the Kaiserbad, but Mrs. Howard +never--and when he inquired how she spent her time, she replied however +she happened to fancy, which gave him no clue as to where he might find +her--and with all her frank charm, she was not a person to whom it was +easy to put a direct question. Lord Fordyce began to grow too interested +for his peace of mind. When he realized this, he got very angry with +himself. He had never permitted a woman to be anything but a mild +recreation in his life, and at forty it was a little late to begin to +experience something serious about one. + +They often motored in the afternoon to various resorts not too far +distant, and there took tea; and for two whole days it had been wet and, +except at meals, the ladies had lain _perdues_. + +However fate was kind on a Saturday morning, and allowed Lord Fordyce +to chance upon Mrs. Howard, right up at the Belvedere in the far woods, +looking over the valley. She was quite alone, and her slender figure was +outlined against the bright sunlight as she leaned on the balustrade +gazing down at the exquisite scene. + +Henry could have cried aloud in joy, "At last!" but he restrained +himself, and instead only said a casual "Hullo!" Mrs. Howard turned and +looked at him, and answered his greeting with frank cordiality. + +"Have you never been here before? I think it is one of the most lovely +spots in the whole woods, and at this time there is never any one--what +made you penetrate so far?" + +"Good fortune! The jade has been unkind until now." + +They leant on the balustrade together. + +"I always like being up on a high mountain and looking down at things, +don't you?" she said. + +"No, not always--one feels lonely--but it is nice if one is with a +suitable companion. How have you, at your age, managed to become +self-sufficing?" + +"Circumstance, I expect, has taught me the beauty of solitude. I spend +months alone in Brittany." + +"And what do you do--read most of the time?" + +He was so enchanted that she was not turning the conversation into banal +things, he determined not to say anything which would cause her again +to draw down the blind of bland politeness. + +"Yes, I read a great deal. You see, Moravia and I were at a convent +together, and there, beyond teaching us to spell and to write and do a +few sums and learn a garbled version of French history, a little music, +and a great deal of embroidery, they left us totally ignorant--one must +try to supply the deficiencies oneself. It is appalling to remain +ignorant once one realizes that one is." + +"Knowledge on any subject is interesting--did you begin generally--or +did you specialize?" + +"I always wanted to be just--and to understand things. The whole of life +and existence seemed too difficult--I think I began trying to find some +key to that and this opened the door to general information, and so +eventually, perhaps, one specializes." + +He was wise enough not to press the question into what her specializing +ran. He adored subtleties, and he noted with delight that she was not so +completely indifferent as usual. If he could keep her attention for a +little while, they might have a really interesting investigation of each +other's thoughts. + +"I like thinking of things, too--and trying to discover their meanings +and what caused them. We are all, of course, the victims of heredity." + +"That may be," she agreed, "but the will can control any heredity. It +can only manifest itself when we let ourselves drift. The tragedy of it +is that we have drifted too far sometimes before we learn that we could +have directed the course if we had willed. Ignorance is seemingly the +most cruel foe we have to encounter, because we are so defenseless, not +knowing he is there." + +She sighed unconsciously and looked out over the beautiful tree-tops, +down to where the Kaiser Park appeared like a little doll's chalet set +among streams and pastures green. + +Lord Fordyce was much moved. She was prettier and sweeter than he had +even fancied she would be could he ever contrive to find her all alone. +He watched her covertly; the exquisite peachy skin with its pure color, +and her soft brown hair dressed with a simplicity which he thought +perfection, all appealed to him, and those strange violet eyes rather +round and heavily lashed with brown-shaded lashes, darker at the tips. +The type was not intense or of a studious mould. Circumstance must +indeed have formed an exotic character to have grafted such deep meaning +in their innocent depths. She went on presently, not remarking his +silence. + +"It is heredity which makes my country women so nervous and unstable as +a rule. You don't like them, as I know," and she smiled, "and I think, +from your point of view, you are right. You see, we are nearly all +mushroom growths, sprung up in a night--and we have not had time for +poise, or the acceptance with calmness of our good fortune. We are as +yet unbalanced by it, and don't know what we want." + +"You are very charming," and he looked truthful, and at that moment felt +so. + +"Yes, I know--we can be more charming than any other women because we +have learnt from all the other nations and play which ever part we wish +to select." + +"Yes," he admitted, rather too quickly--and her rippling laugh rang out. +He had hardly ever heard her laugh, and it enchanted him, even though he +was nettled at her understanding of his thought. + +"It remains for men to make us desire to play the same part always--if +they find it agreeable." + +Again he said "Yes"--but this time slowly. + +"Now you Englishmen have the heredity of absolute phlegm to fight. While +we ought to be trying to counteract jumping from one role to another, +you ought to try to teach yourselves that versatility is a good thing, +too, in its way." + +"I am sure it is. I wish you would teach me to understand it--but you +yourself seem to be restful and stable. How have you achieved this?" + +"By studying the meaning of things, I suppose, and checking myself every +time I began to want to do the restless things I saw my countrywomen +doing. We have wonderful wills, you know, and if we want a thing +sufficiently, we can get anything. That is why Moravia says we make such +successful great ladies in the different countries we marry into. Your +great ladies, if they are nice, are great naturally, and if they are +not, they often fail, even if they are born aristocrats. We do not often +fail, because we know very well we are taking on a part, and must play +it to the very best of our ability all the time--and gradually we play +it better than if it were natural." + +"What a little cynic! 'Out of the mouths of babes'!" and he laughed. + +"I am not at all a cynic! It is the truth I am telling you. I admire and +respect our methods far more than yours, which just 'growed' like +Topsy!" + +"But cynicism and truth are, unfortunately, synonymous. Only you are too +young, and ought not to know anything about either!" + +"I like to know and do things I ought not to!" Her eyes were merry. + +"Tell me some more about your countrywomen. I'm awfully interested, and +have always been too frightened of their brilliancy to investigate +myself." + +"We are not nearly so bothered with hearts as Europeans--heredity again. +Our mothers and fathers generally sprang from people working too hard to +have great emotions--then we arrive, and have every luxury poured upon +us from birth; and if we have hardy characters we weather the deluge and +remain very decent citizens." + +"And if you have not?" + +"Why, naturally the instincts for hard work, which made our parents +succeed, if they remain idle must make some explosion. So we grow +restless in our palaces, and get fads and nerves and quaint +diseases--and have to come to Carlsbad--and talk to sober Englishmen!" +The look of mischief which she vouchsafed him was perfectly adorable. He +was duly affected. + +"You take us as a sort of cure!" + +"Yes----!" + +"How do you know so much about us and our faults? I gathered, from what +you said last night at dinner, that you have never been in England but +once, for a month, when you were almost a child." + +"The rarest specimens come abroad," and a dimple showed in her left +cheek, "and I read about you in your best novels--even your authors +unconsciously give you away and show your selfishness and arrogance and +self-satisfaction." + +"Shocking brutes, aren't we?" + +"Perfectly." + +Then they both laughed, and Sabine suggested it was time they returned +to luncheon. + +"It is quite two miles from here, and Mr. Cloudwater, although the +kindest dear old gentleman, begins to get hungry at one o'clock." + +So they turned and sauntered downwards through the lovely green woods, +with the warm hum of insects and the soft summer, glancing sunshine. And +all of you who know the beauties of Carlsbad, or indeed any other of +those Bohemian spas, can just picture how agreeable was their walk, and +how conducive to amiable discussion and the acceleration of friendship. +Henry tried to get her to tell him some more of the secrets of her +countrywomen, but she would not be serious. She was in a merry mood, and +turned the fire into the enemy's camp, making him disclose the ways of +Englishmen. + +"I believe you like us as a rule because we are such casual creatures!" +he said at last, "rather indifferent about _petits soins_, and apt to +seize what we desire, or take it for granted." + +A sudden shadow came into her face which puzzled him, and she did not +answer, but went on to talk of Brittany and the place which she had +bought. Heronac--just a weird castle perched right upon a rock above a +fishing village, with the sea dashing at its base and the spray rising +right to her sitting-room windows. + +"I have to go across a causeway to my garden upon the main land--and +when it is very rough, I get soaking wet--it is the wildest place you +ever saw." + +"What on earth made you select it?" Lord Fordyce asked. "You, who look +like a fresh rose, to choose a grim brigand's stronghold as a +residence!" + +"It suited my mood on the day I first saw it--and I bought it the +following week. I make up my mind in a minute as to what I want." + +"You must let me motor past and look at it," he pleaded, "and when my +twenty-one days of drinking this uninteresting water is up, I intend +going back in my car to Paris, and from there down to see Mont St. +Michel." + +"You shall not only look at it--you may even come in--if you are nice +and do not bore me between now and then," and she glanced up at him +slyly. "I have an old companion, Madame Imogen Aubert--who lives with me +there--and she always hopes I shall one day have visitors!" + +Lord Fordyce promised he would be a pure sage, and if she would put him +on probation, and really take pains to sample his capabilities of not +boring in a few more walks, he would come up for judgment at Heronac +when it was her good pleasure to name a date. + +"I shall be there toward the middle of August. After we leave here, the +Princess and dear Cloudie go to Italy with her little son, the baby +Torniloni: he is such a darling, nearly three years old--he is at +Heronac now with his nurses." + +"And you go back to Brittany alone?" + +"Yes----" + +"Then I shall come, too." + +"If, at the end of your cure, you have not bored me!" + +By this time they had got down to the Savoy gate--and there found +Moravia and Mr. Cloudwater waiting for them on the balcony--clamoring +for lunch. + +Princess Torniloni gave a swift, keen glance at the two who had +entered, but she did not express the thought which came to her. + +"It is rather hard that Sabine, who does not want him and is not free to +have him, should have drawn him instead of me." + +That night in the restaurant there came in and joined their party one of +those American men who are always to be met with in Paris or Aix or +Carlsbad or Monte Carlo, at whatever in any of these places represents +the Ritz Hotel, one who knew everybody and everything, a person of no +particular sex, but who always would make a party go with his stories +and his gaiety, and help along any hostess. Cranley Beaton was this +one's name. The Cloudwater party were all quite glad to welcome him and +hear news of their friends. One or two decent people had arrived that +afternoon also, and Moravia felt she could be quite amused and wear her +pretty clothes. Sabine hated the avalanches of dinners and lunches and +what not this would mean. Her sense of humor was very highly developed, +and she often laughed in a fond way over her friend, who was, in her +search for pleasure, still as keen as she had been in convent days. + +"You do remain so young, Morri!" she told her, as they linked arms going +up to bed. Their rooms were on the first floor, and they disdained the +lift. "Do you remember, you used to be the mother to all of us at St. +Anne's--and now I am the mother of us two!" + +"You are an old, wise-headed Sibyl--that is what you are, darling!" the +Princess returned. "I wish I could ever know what has so utterly changed +you from our convent days," and she sighed impatiently. "Then you were +the merriest madcap, ready to tease any one and to have any lark, and +for nearly these four years since we have been together again you have +been another person--grave and self-possessed. What are you always +thinking of, Sabine?" + +They had reached their sitting-room, and Mrs. Howard went to the window +and opened it wide. + +"I grew up in one year, Moravia--I grew a hundred years old, and all the +studies which I indulge in at Heronac teach me that peace and poise are +the things to aim at. I cannot tell you any more." + +"I did not mean to probe into your secrets, darling," the Princess +exclaimed hastily. "I promised you I never would when you came to me +that November in Rome--we were both miserable enough, goodness knows! We +made the bargain that there should be no retrospects. And your angelic +goodness to me all that time when my little Girolamo was born, have made +me your eternal debtor. Why, but for you, darling, he might have been +snatched from me by the hateful Torniloni family!" + +"The sweet cherub!" + +Then their conversation turned to this absorbing topic, the perfections +of Girolamo! and as it is hardly one which could interest you or me, my +friend, let us go back to the smoking-room and listen to a conversation +going on between Cranley Beaton and Lord Fordyce. The latter, with great +skill, had begun to elicit certain information he desired from this +society register! + +"Yes, indeed," Mr. Beaton was saying. "She is a peach--The husband"--and +he looked extremely wise. "Oh! she made some frightful mesalliance out +West, and they say he's shut in a madhouse or home for inebriates. Her +entrance among us dates from when she first appeared in Paris, about +three years ago, with Princess Torniloni. She is awfully rich and +awfully good, and it is a real pity she does not divorce the ruffian and +begin again!" + +"She is not free, then?" and Lord Fordyce felt his heart sink. "I +thought, probably, she had got rid of any encumbrance, as it is fairly +easy over with you." + +"Why, she could in a moment if she wanted to, I expect," Mr. Beaton +assured his listener. "She hasn't fancied anyone else yet; when she +does, she will, no doubt." + +"Her husband is an American, then?" + +"Why, of course--didn't I tell you she came from the West? Why, I +remember crossing with her. She was in deep mourning--in the summer of +1908. She never spoke to anyone on board, and it was about eighteen +months after that I was presented to her in Paris. She gets prettier +every day." + +Lord Fordyce felt this was true. + +"So she could be free if she fancied anyone, you think?" he hazarded +casually, as though his interest in the subject had waned--and when Mr. +Beaton had answered, "Yes--rather," Lord Fordyce got up and sauntered +off toward bed. + +"One has to be up so early in the morning, here," he remarked agreeably. +"See you to-morrow at the Schlossbrunn?--Good-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +After this, for several days Mrs. Howard made it rather difficult for +Lord Fordyce to speak to her alone, although he saw her every day, and +at every meal, and each hour grew more enamored. She, for her part, was +certainly growing to like him. He soothed her; his intelligence was +highly trained, and he was courteous and gentle and sympathetic--but for +some reason which she could not explain, she had no wish to precipitate +matters. Her mind was quite without any definite desire or +determination, but, being a woman, she was perfectly aware that Henry +was falling in love with her. A number of other men had done so before, +and had then at once begun to be uninteresting in her eyes. It was as if +she were numb to the attraction of men--but this one had qualities which +appealed to her. Her own countrymen were never cultivated enough in +literature, and were too absorbed in stocks and shares to be able to +take flights of sentiment and imagination with her. Lord Fordyce +understood in a second--and they could discuss any subject with a +refined subtlety which enchanted her. + +Henry had not spent his life maneuvring love affairs with women, and +was not very clever at manipulating circumstance. He fretted and fumed +at not getting his desired tete-a-tete, but with all the will was too +hedged in by conventionality and a sense of politeness to force matters, +as his friend, Michael Arranstoun, would have done with high-handed +unconcern. Thus, his cure at Carlsbad was drawing to a close before he +again spent an afternoon quite alone with Sabine Howard. They had gone +to the Aberg to tea, and the Princess had expressed herself too tired to +walk back, and had got into the waiting carriage, making Cranley Beaton +accompany her. She was not in a perfectly amiable temper. Lord Fordyce +attracted her strongly, and it was plain to be seen he had only eyes for +Sabine--who cared for him not at all. The Princess found Cranley Beaton +absolutely tiresome--no better than the _New York Herald_, she thought +pettishly, or the _Continental Daily Mail_--to be with! The waters were +getting on her nerves, too; she would be glad to leave and go to +Sorrento with that Cupid among infants, Girolamo. Sabine had better +divorce her horror of a husband, and marry the man and have done with +it! + +Now the walk from the Aberg down through the woods is a peculiarly +delightful one and, even in the season at Carlsbad, not over-crowded by +people. Henry Fordyce felt duly elated at the prospect, and Mrs. Howard +had an air of pensive mischief in her violet eyes. Lord Fordyce, who had +been accustomed for years to making speeches for his party, and was +known as a ready orator, found himself rather silent, and even a little +nervous, for the first hundred yards or so. She looked so bewitching, he +thought, in her fresh white linen, showing up the round peachiness of +her young cheeks, and those curling, childish, brown lashes making their +shadow. He was overcome with a desire to kiss her. She was so supremely +healthy and delectable. He felt he had been altogether a fool in his +estimate of the serious necessities of life hitherto. Woman was now one +of them--and this woman supremely so. Why, if she could be freed from +bonds, should she not become his wife? But he felt it might be wiser not +to be too precipitate about suggesting the thing to her. She had +certainly given him no indication that she would receive the idea +favorably, and appeared to be of the type of character which could not +be coerced. He felt very glad Michael Arranstoun had not responded to +his pressing request to join him. It would be far better that that +irritatingly attractive specimen of manhood should not step upon the +scene, until he himself had some definite hope of affairs being +satisfactorily settled. + +They began their talk upon the lightest subjects, and gradually drifted +into one of the discussions of emotions in the abstract which are so +fascinating--and so dangerous--and which require skill to direct and +continue. + +Mrs. Howard held that pleasure could alone come from harmony of body and +spirit, while Lord Fordyce maintained that wild discords could also +produce it, and that it could not be defined as governed by any law. + +"One is sometimes full of pleasure even against one's will," he said. +"Every spiritual principle and conviction may be outraged, and yet for +some unaccountable reason pleasure remains." + +Mrs. Howard opened her eyes wide as if at a sudden thought. + +"Yes," she said. "I wish it were not true what you say, but it is--and +it is a great injustice." + +"What makes you say that?" Henry asked, quickly. "You were thinking of +some particular thing. Do tell me." + +"I was thinking how some people can sin and err in every way, and yet +there is something about them which causes them to be forgiven, and +which even causes pleasure while they are sinning; and there are others +who might do the same things and would be anathematised at once--and no +joy felt with them at any time. Moravia and I call it having 'it'--some +people have it, and some people have not got it, and that is the end of +the matter!" + +"It is a strange thing, but I know what you mean. I know one particular +case of it in a friend of mine. No matter what he does, one always +forgives him. It does not depend upon looks, either--although this +actual person is abominably good-looking--it does not depend upon +intelligence or character or--anything--as you say, it is just 'it.' Now +you have it, and the Princess, perfectly charming though she is, has +not." + +Sabine did not contradict him; she never was conventional, denying +truths for the sake of diffidence or politeness. Moravia was beautiful +and charming, but it was true she had not 'it.' + +"I think it applies more to men than to women," was all she said. + +"You were thinking of a man, then, when you spoke?" + +"Yes--I was thinking of a man--but it is not an interesting subject." + +Lord Fordyce decided that it was, but he did not continue it. + +"I want you to tell me all about Heronac," he requested, "and what +charmed you in it enough to make you buy it suddenly like that. How did +you come upon it?" + +"I had just arrived from America, at the end of July of 1908--four years +ago--and I found, when I got to Cherbourg, that I could not join my +friend, the Princess, as I had intended, because her husband had taken +her off to his country place near Naples. So I hired a motor and +wandered down into Brittany alone. I wanted to be alone. I was motoring +along, when a violent storm came on, furious rain and wind, and just at +the worst and weirdest moment, I passed Heronac, which is a few hundred +yards from the edge of the present village. It stands out in the sea on +a great spur of rock, entirely separated from the main land by a deep +chasm about thirty feet wide, over which there was then a broken bridge +which had once been a drawbridge. It was a huge, grim ruin with only a +few roofed rooms, built in about the thirteenth century originally, and +of course added to and modernized. The house actually standing within +the great towers is of the date of Louis XIV. It stood there, a dark +mass, defying the storm, although the huge waves splashed right up to +the windows." + +"It sounds repellent." + +"It was--fierce and grim and repellent, and it suited my mood--so I +stopped at the Inn, my old maid Simone and I, and I got permission to go +and see it. The landlord of the Inn had the keys. The last of the +Heronacs drank himself to death with absinthe in Paris, so the place was +closed, and was no doubt for sale. '_Mais oui!_' he told us. Simone was +terrified to cross the wretched bridge, with the water swirling beneath, +and we left her to go back to the Inn, while the landlord's son came +with me. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and was a most +extraordinary day, for now it began to thunder and lighten." + +"I wonder you were not afraid." + +"I am never afraid--I tell you, it suited me. There was still some +furniture in the roofed part of the inner court, and in the two great +towers which flank the main building--but in that the roof was off, but +the view from the windows when we crept along to them across the broken +floor was too superb, straight out to the ocean, the waves thundering at +the base. I made up my mind that night I would buy it if I could--and, +as I told you before, I did so in the following week." + +"How quaint of you!" + +"It has been the greatest delight to me, and, as you will see, I have +done something with it. I restored the center, and have made its +arrangements modern and comfortable, but have left that one huge room on +the first floor as it was, only with the roof mended. I spend hours and +hours in the deep window embrasures looking right over the sea. It has +taught me more of the meaning of things than all my books." + +"You speak as though you were an old woman," Lord Fordyce exclaimed, +"and you look only a mere child now--then, when you bought this +brigand's stronghold, you must have been in the nursery!" + +"I was over eighteen!" + +"A colossal age! it was simply ridiculous for you to be wanting dark +castles and solitude. What--?" and then he paused; he did not continue +his question. + +"I was really very old--I had been old for almost a year." + +"And do you mean to remain old always, or will you ever let anyone teach +you to be young?" + +Sabine looked away into the somber fir trees. They had got to a part of +the path where the woods on either side are black as night in their +depths. + +"I--don't--know," she said, very low. + +Lord Fordyce moved nearer to her. + +"I wish you would let me try to take away all those somber thoughts I +see sometimes in those sweet eyes." + +"How would you begin?" + +"By loving you very much--and then by trying to make you love me." + +"Does love take away dark thoughts, then--or does it bring them?" + +"That depends upon the love," he told her, eagerly. "When it is great +enough to be unselfish, it must bring peace and happiness, surely----" + +"They are good things--they are harmony--but----" + +"Yes--what are the buts?" his voice trembled a little. + +"Love seems to me to be a wild thing, a raging, tearing passion--Can it +ever be just tender and kind?" + +"I wish you would let me prove to you that it can." + +She looked into his face gravely, and there was nothing but honest +question in her violet eyes. + +"To what end?" she asked. + +"I would like you to marry me." He had said it now when he had not +intended to yet, and he was pale as death. + +She shrank from him a little. + +"But surely you know that I am not free!" + +"I hoped I--believed that you can make yourself so--if you knew how I +love you! I have never really loved any woman before in my life. I +always thought they should be only recreations--but the moment I saw +you, my whole opinions changed." + +She grew troubled. + +"I wish you had not said this to me," she faltered. "I--do not know that +I wish to change my life. I could, of course, be free, I suppose--if I +wanted to be--but--I am not sure. What would it mean if I listened to +you? Tell me! I am sometimes very lonely--and I like you so much." + +"I want to make you feel more than that, but I will be content with +whatever you will give me. I do not care one atom what dark page is in +your past, I know it can have been nothing of your own fault, and if it +were, I should not care--I only care for you--Sabine--will you not tell +me that you will try to let me make you happy. It would mean that, that +I should devote my whole life to making you happy." + +"A woman should be contented with that, surely," she said. And if Henry +Fordyce had had his usual critical wits about him unclouded by love, he +would have smiled his cynical smile and have said to himself: + +"The spark is not lit, my friend; her voice lacks enthusiasm and her +brows are calm," but he was like all lovers--blind--and only saw and +heard what could comfort his heart, and so caught at the straw with +delight. + +"Whatever you asked I would give you. Only say that you will let me set +about helping you to be free at once." + +Mrs. Howard, however, had not gone this far in her imaginings--the idea +had started in her brain, no doubt, but it had not matured yet, and all +was hesitancy. + +"I cannot promise anything. You must give me time to think, Lord +Fordyce." + +"Dearest, of course I will--but you will take steps to make yourself +free--will you not? I have not asked, and I will not ask you a single +question, only that you will tell me when I really may hope." + +His voice was deep with feeling, and his distinguished, clever face was +eager and full of devotion, as they turned an abrupt corner, and there +came face to face with two of their American acquaintances in the hotel. + +"Isn't this a charming walk, Mrs. Howard," and "Yes, isn't it!" and bows +and passings on; but it broke the current, destroyed the spell, and +released some spirit of mischief in Sabine's heart, for she would not +be grave for another second. She made Henry promise he would just amuse +her and not refer again to those serious topics unless she gave him +leave. And he, accustomed to go his own way unhampered by the caprices +of the gentle sex, agreed!--so under the dominion of love had he become! +for a woman, too, who in herself combined three things he had always +disliked. She was an American, she was very young, and she had an +equivocal position. But the little god does not consult the individual +before he shoots his darts, and punishes the most severely those who +have denied his power. + +By the time they had reached the Savoy, Sabine, with that aptitude, +though it was perfectly unconscious in her, which is the characteristic +of all her countrywomen, had reduced Lord Fordyce to complete +subjection, so that he was ready to do any mortal thing in the world for +her, and willing to grasp suggestions of hope upon any terms. + +She gave him a friendly smile, and disappeared up the stairs to their +sitting-room--there to find Moravia indulging in nerves. + +"I just want to scream, darling!" that lady said, and Sabine patted her +hands. + +"Then don't, Morri, dearest," she implored her. "You only want to +because your mother, if she had been idle, would have wanted to scrub +the floors--just as my father's business capacity came out in me just +now, and I fenced with and sampled a very noble gentleman instead of +being simple with him. Let us get above our instincts--and be the real +aristocrats we appear to the world!" + +But the Princess had to have some sal volatile. + +That night after dinner waywardness was upon Sabine. She would read the +_New York Herald_, which she had absolutely not glanced at since their +arrival at Carlsbad, so absorbed and entranced had she been in her walks +in the green woods, and so little interested was she ever in the doings +of the world. + +She glanced at the Trouville news, and the Homburg news with wandering +mind, and then her eye fell upon the polo at Ostende, and there she read +that the English team had been giving a delightful dance at the Casino, +where Mr. Michael Arranstoun had sumptuously entertained a party of his +friends--amongst them Miss Daisy Van der Horn. The paragraph was worded +with that masterly simplicity which distinguishes intelligent, modern +journalism; and left the reader's mind confused as to words, but clear +as to suggestion. Sabine Howard knew Miss Daisy Van der Horn. As she +read, the bright, soft color left her cheeks, and then returned with a +brilliant flush. + +It was the first time for five years she had ever read the name of +Arranstoun in any paper. She held the sheet firmly, and perused all the +other information of the day--but when she put it down, and joined in +the general conversation, it could have been remarked that her eyes +were glittering like fixed stars. + +And when, for a moment, they all went out on the balcony to breathe in +the warm, soft night, she whispered to Henry Fordyce: + +"I have been thinking--I will, at all events, begin to take steps to be +free." + +But to his rapturous, "My darling!" she replied, with lowered lids: + +"It will take some time--and you may not like waiting--And when I am +free--I do not know--only--I am tired, and I want someone to help me to +forget and begin again. Good-night." + +Then, after she got to her room, she opened the window wide, and looked +out upon the quiet firs. But nothing stilled the unrest in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Heronac was basking in the sun of an August morning, like some huge sea +monster which had clambered upon the wet rocks. + +The sea was intensely blue without a ripple upon it, and only the +smallest white line marked where its waters caressed the shore. + +Nature slumbered in the heat and was silent, and Sabine Howard, the +chatelaine of this quaint chateau, stood looking out of the deep windows +in her great sitting-room. It was a wonderful room. She had collected +dark panelling and tapestry to hide the grim stone walls, and had +managed to buy a splendidly carved and painted roof, while her sense of +color had run riot in beautiful silks for curtains. It was a remarkable +achievement for one so young, and who had begun so ignorantly. Her +mother's family had been decently enough bred, and her maternal +grandfather had been a fair artist, and that remarkable American +adaptability which she had inherited from her father had helped her in +many ways. Her sitting-room at Heronac was, of course, not perfect; and +to the trained eye of Henry Fordyce would present many anomalies; but +no one could deny that it was a charming apartment, or that it was a +glowing frame of rich tints for her youthful freshness. + +She had really studied in these years of her residence there, and each +month put something worth having into the storehouse of her intelligent +mind. She was as immeasurably removed from the Sabine Delburg of convent +days as light from darkness, and her companion had often been Monsieur +le Cure, an enchanting Jesuit priest, who had the care of the souls of +Heronac village. A great cynic, a pure Christian and a man of parts--a +distant connection of the original family--Gaston d'Heronac had known +the world in his day; and after much sorrow had found a hermitage in his +own village--a consolation in the company of this half-French, +half-American heiress, who had incorporated herself with the soil. He +was now seventy years of age and always a gentleman, with few of the +tiresome habits of the old. + +What joy he had found in opening the mind of his young Dame d'Heronac! + +It was frankly admitted that there were to be no discussions upon +religion. + +"I am a pagan, _cher pere_," Sabine had said, almost immediately, "leave +me!--and let me enjoy your sweet church and your fisherfolks' faith. I +will come there every Sunday and say my prayers--_mes prieres a +moi_--and then we can discuss philosophy afterwards or--what you will." + +And the priest had replied: + +"Religion is not of dogma. The paganism of Dame Sabine is as good in the +sight of le bon Dieu as the belief of Jean Rivee, who knows that his +boat was guided into the harbor on the night of the great storm by the +Holy Virgin, who posed Herself by the helm. Heavens! yes--it is God who +judges--not priests." + +It can be easily understood that with two minds of this breadth, Pere +Anselme and Sabine Howard became real friends. + +The Cure, when he read with her the masters of the _dix-septieme_ and +the _dix-huitieme_ had a quaintly humorous expression in his old black +eye. + +"Not for girls or for priests--but for _des gens du monde_," he said to +her one day, on putting down a volume of Voltaire. + +"Of what matter," Sabine had answered. "Since I am not a girl, _cher +maitre_, and you were once not a priest, and we are both _gens du +monde--hein_?" + +His breeding had been of enormous advantage to him, enabling him to +refrain from asking Sabine a single question; but he knew from her +ejaculations as time went on that she had passed through some furnace +during her eighteenth year, and it had seared her deeply. He even knew +more than this; he knew almost as much as Simone, eventually, but it +was all locked in his breast and never even alluded to between them. + +Sabine was waiting for him at this moment upon this glorious day in +August. Pere Anselme was going to breakfast with her. + +He was announced presently, courtly and spare and distinguished in his +thread-bare soutane, and they went in to the breakfast-room, a round +chamber in the adjoining tower which had kitchens beneath. The walls +were here so thick, that only the sky could be seen from any window +except the southeastern one, from which you reviewed the gray slate +roofs of the later building within the courtyard, the part which had +been always habitable and which contained the salons and the guest +chambers, with only an oblique view of the sea. Here, in Heronac's +mistress' own apartments, the waves eternally encircled the base, and on +rough days rose in great clouds of spray almost to the deep mullions. + +"I am having visitors, Pere Anselme," Sabine remarked, when Nicholas, +her fat butler, was handing the omelette. "Madame Imogen is enchanted," +and she smiled at that lady who had been waiting for dejeuner in the +room before they had entered. + +"_Tant mieux!_" responded the priest, with his mouth full of egg and +mushroom. In his youth, the Heronacs had not imported English nurses, +and he ate as his fathers had done before him. + +"So much the better. Our lady is too given to solitude, and but for the +meteor-like descents of the Princess Torniloni and her tamed father--" +(he used the word _aprivoise_--"_son pere aprivoise_"!) "we should here +see very little of the outside world. And of what sex, madame, are these +new acquaintances, if one may ask?" + +"They are men, _cher pere_--bold, bad Englishmen!--think of it! but I +can only tell you the name of one of them--the other is +problematical--he has merely been spoken of as, 'My friend'--but he is +young, I gather, so just the affaire of Mere Imogen!" + +"Why, that's likely!" chirped Madame Imogen, with a strong American +accent, in her French English. "But I do pine for some gay things down +here, don't you, Father?" + +Pere Anselme was heard to murmur that he found youth enough in his +hostess, if you asked him. + +"At the same time, we must welcome these Englishmen," he added, "should +they be people of cultivation." He had heard that, in their upper +classes, the Englishmen of to-day were still the greatest gentlemen +left, and he would be pleased to meet examples of them. + +"They will arrive at about five o'clock, I suppose," Sabine announced. +"Have you seen about their rooms, Mere Imogen? Lord Fordyce is to have +the Louis XIV suite, and the friend the one beyond; and we will only let +them come into our house if they do not bore us. We shall dine in the +_salle-a-manger_ to-night and sit in the big salon." + +These rooms were seldom opened, except when Princess Torniloni came to +stay and brought her son, Sabine's godchild, who had elaborate nurseries +prepared for him. No other visitor had ever crossed the causeway, and +Madame Imogen's cute mind was asking itself why clemency had been +accorded to these two Britons. The English, as she knew, were not a +favored race with her employer. + +They had been together for about two years now, she and Sabine--and were +excellent friends. + +Madame Imogen Aubert had been in great straits in Paris, when Sabine had +heard of her through one of her many American acquaintances. Stupid +speculation by an over-confident, silly French husband just before his +death in Nevada had been the reason. Madame Imogen had the kindest heart +and the hardest common sense, and did credit to a distant Scotch +descent. She adored Sabine, as indeed she had reason to do, and looked +after her house and her servants with a hawk's eye. + +After dejeuner was over, the Dame d'Heronac and the Cure crossed the +causeway bridge, and beyond the great towered gate entered another at +the side, which conducted them into the garden, which sheltered itself +behind immensely big walls from the road which curled beyond it, and the +sea which bounded it on the northwest. Here, whatever horticultural +talent and money could procure had been lavished for four years, and +the results were beginning to show. It was a glorious mass of summer +flowers; and was the supreme pleasure of Pere Anselme. He gardened with +the fervor of an enthusiast, and was the joy and terror of the +gardeners. + +They spent two hours in delightful work, and then the Cure went his +way--but just before he left for the hundred yards down the road where +his cottage stood, Sabine said to him: + +"Regard well Lord Fordyce to-night, _mon pere_. It is possible I may +decide to know him very intimately some day--when I am free." + +The old priest looked at her questioningly. + +"You intend to remove your shackles yourself, then, my child? You will +not leave the affair to the good God--no?" + +"I think that it will be wiser that I should be free soon, _mon pere_--_le +bon Dieu_ helps those who help themselves. Au revoir--and do not be late +for the Englishmen." + +The priest shrugged his high shoulders, as he walked off. + +"The dear child," he said to himself. "She does not know it, but the +image of the fierce one has not faded entirely even yet--it is natural, +though, that she should think of a mate. I must well examine this +Englishman!" + +Sabine went back into the walled garden again, and sat down under the +shelter of an arbour of green. She wanted to re-read a letter of Henry +Fordyce's, which she had received that day by the early and only post. + +It was rather a perfect letter for any young woman to have got, and she +knew that and valued all its literary and artistic merits. + +They had had long and frequent conversations in their last three days at +Carlsbad, during which they had grown nearer and still better friends. +His gentleness, his courtesy and diffidence were such incense to her +self-esteem, considering the position of importance he held in his own +country and the great place he seemed to occupy in the Princess' regard. +And he was her servant--her slave--and would certainly make the most +tender lover--some day! + +On their last afternoon, he had taken her hands and kissed them. + +"Sabine," he had said, with his voice trembling with emotion. "I have +shown you that I can control myself, and have not made any love to you +as I have longed to do. Won't you be generous, dearest, and give me some +definite hope--some definite promise that, when you are free, you will +give yourself to me and will be my wife----?" + +And she had answered--with more fervor than she really felt, because she +would hide some unaccountable reluctance: + +"Yes--I have written to-day to my lawyer, Mr. Parsons--to advise me how +to begin to take the necessary steps--and when it all goes through, +then--yes--I will marry you." + +But she would not let him kiss her, which he showed signs of desiring to +do. + +"You must wait until I am free, though my marriage is no tie; it has +never been one--after the first year. I will tell you the whole story, +if you want to hear it--but I wish to forget it all--only it is fair for +you to know there is no disgrace connected with it in any way." + +"I should not care one atom if there were," Henry said, ecstatically. +"You yourself could never have touched any disgrace. Your eyes are as +pure as the stars!" + +"I was extremely ignorant and foolish, as one is at seventeen. And now I +want to make something of life--some great thing--and your goodness and +your high and fine ideals will help me." + +"My dearest!" he had cried fervently. + +Sabine had said to the Princess that night, as they talked in their +sitting-room: + +"Do you know, Morri, I have almost decided to marry this +Englishman--some day. You have often told me I was foolish not to free +myself from any bonds, however lightly they held me--and I have never +wanted to--but now I do--at once--as soon as possible--before--my +husband can suggest being free of me! I have written to Mr. Parsons +already--and I suppose it will not take very long. The laws there, I +believe, are not so binding as in England--" and then she stopped short. + +"The laws--where?" Moravia could not refrain from asking; her curiosity +had at last won the day. + +"In Scotland, Morri. He was a Scotchman, not an American at all as every +one supposes." + +The Princess' eyes opened wide--and she had to bite her lips to keep +from asking more. + +"I have never seen him since the day after we were married--there cannot +be any difficulty about getting a divorce--can there?" + +"None, I should think," the Princess said shortly, and they kissed one +another good-night and each went to her room. + +But Moravia sat a long time, after her maid had left her, staring into +space. + +Fate was very cruel and contrary. It gave her everything that most +people could want, and refused her the one thing she desired herself. + +"He adores Sabine--who will trample on him--she always rules +everything--and I would have been his sympathetic companion, and would +have let him rule me--!" Then something she could not reconcile in her +mind struck her. + +If Sabine had never seen her husband since the day after she was +married--what had caused her to be so pale and sad and utterly changed +when she came to her, Moravia, in Rome--a year or more afterwards, and +to have made her break entirely with her uncle and aunt? The secret of +her friend's life lay in that year--that year after she herself married +and went off with her husband Girolamo to Italy--the year which Sabine +had spent in America--alone. But she knew very well that, fond as they +were of one another, Sabine would probably never tell her about it. So +presently she got into bed and, sighing at the incongruity and +inconsiderateness of circumstance, she turned out the light. + +Sabine that same night read of further entertainments at Ostende in the +_New York Herald_--and shut her full, firm lips with an ominous force. +And so she and Henry had parted at the Carlsbad station next day with +the understanding between them that, when Sabine could tell him that she +was free, he would be at liberty to press his suit and she would give a +favorable answer. + +She thought of these past things now for a moment while she re-read Lord +Fordyce's letter. It told her, there in her Heronac garden, in a hurried +P.S. that a friend had joined him that moment at Havre, and clamored to +be taken on the trip, too, claiming an old promise. He was quite a nice +young man--but if she did not want any extra person, she was to wire to +----, where they would arrive about eleven o'clock, and there this +interloper should be ruthlessly marooned! The post had evidently been +going, and the P.S. must have been written in frightful haste after the +advent of the friend--for his name was not even given. + +Sabine had not wired. She felt a certain sense of relief. It would make +someone to talk to Madame Imogen and the Cure--and cause there to be no +_gene_. + +Then her thoughts turned to Henry himself with tender friendship. So +dear a companion, and how glad she would be to see him again. The ten +days since they had parted at Carlsbad seemed actually long! Surely it +was a wise thing to do to start her real life with one whom she could so +truly respect; there could be no pitfalls and disappointments! And his +great position in England would give scope for her ambition, which never +could be satisfied like Moravia's with just social things. She would +begin to study English politics and the other great matters which Henry +was interested in. He would find that what she had told him at Carlsbad +was true, and that, although he was naturally prejudiced against +Americans, he would have to admit that she, as his wife, played the part +as well, if not better, than one of his own countrywomen could have +done. She thrilled a little as the picture came up before her of the +large outlook she would have to survey, and the great situation she +would have to adorn, but sure of Henry's devoted kindness and gentleness +all the time. + +Yes--she would certainly marry him, perhaps by next year. Mr. Parsons +had written only yesterday, saying he had begun to take steps, as her +freedom must come from the side of her husband--who could divorce her +for desertion. She could not urge this plea against him, since she had +left him of her own free will. + +"He will jump at the chance, naturally," she said to herself--"and then, +perhaps, he will marry Daisy Van der Horn!" + +She was still a very young woman, you see, for all her four years of +deep education in the world of books! + +She put the letter back in her basket below the flowers she had picked, +and prepared to return to the chateau. To arrange various combinations +of color in vases was her peculiar joy--and her flower decorations were +her special care. She was just entering the great towered gate of +Heronac where resided the concierge, when she heard the whir of a motor +approaching in the distance, and she hurriedly slipped inside old +Berthe's parlor. She disliked dust and strangers, who, fortunately, very +seldom came upon this unbeaten track. + +She was watching from the window until they should have passed--it could +not be her guests, it was quite an hour too soon, when the motor whizzed +round the bend and stopped short at the gate! It was a big open one, and +the occupants wore goggles over their eyes; but she recognized Lord +Fordyce's figure, as he got out followed by a very tall young man, who +called out cheerily: + +"Yes--this must be the brigand's stronghold, Henry; let's thunder at the +bell." + +Then for a moment her knees gave way beneath her, and she sank into +Berthe's carved oaken chair. For the voice was the voice of Michael +Arranstoun--and when he pulled the goggles off, she could see, as she +peered through the window, his sunburnt face and bold blue eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Ostende had begun to bore Michael Arranstoun intolerably--he had lamed +his best pony and Miss Daisy Van der Horn was getting on his nerves. At +Ostende she, to use one of her own expressions, "was not the only pebble +on the beach." His nerves had had a good deal of exercise among that +exceedingly pleasure-loving, frolicsome crew. + +Five years in the wilds had not changed him much, except to add to his +annoying charm. He was more absolutely dare-devil and sure of himself +and careless of all else than ever. Miss Daisy Van der Horn--and a +number of Clarices and Germaines and Lolos--were "just crazy" about him. +And they mattered to him not a single straw. He laughed--and kissed them +when he felt inclined, and then when all had begun to weary him he rode +away--or rather sent his polo ponies back to England and got into the +express for Paris, expecting there to find Henry Fordyce returned from +Carlsbad--only to hear that he had just started in his motor for +Brittany, and by that evening would have arrived at Havre. + +Michael had nothing special to do and so followed him there at once by +train, coming upon him just as he was closing his letter to Mrs. Howard. +Then in his usual whirlwind way, which must be obeyed--he had persuaded +Henry to take him on with him, inwardly against that astute +politician's, but diffident lover's will. + +"Look here, Michael," he had said, "I am going to see the lady of my +heart--you know, and you will probably be in the way!" + +"Not a bit, old boy--I'll play the helpful friend and spin things along. +What's she like?" + +Here Lord Fordyce gave a guarded description--but with the enthusiasm of +a man who is no longer quite young but madly in love. + +"Good Lord!" whistled Michael. "She must be a daisy! And when are you +going to be married, old man? I'll lend you Arranstoun for the +honeymoon--damned good place for a honeymoon--" and then he stopped +short suddenly and laughed with a strange regretful sound in his mirth. + +"Alas!" Henry sighed. "I cannot say--she is an American, you know, and +has been married to a brute of her own nation out west, whom she has to +get perfectly free of before I can have the honor to call her mine." + +"Whew!" + +"Yes, it is a dreadful bore having to wait. They arrange divorces +wonderfully well over there though it is only a question of a few +months, I suppose--but she would be worth waiting for for ten years----" + +"It is simply glorious to hear you raving so, old bird!" Michael +laughed. "When I think of the lectures you used to give me about +women--mere recreations for a man's leisure moments, I think you called +them, and not to be taken seriously in a man's real life!" + +"I have completely changed my opinions," Lord Fordyce announced, rather +nettled. "So would any man if he knew Mrs. Howard." + +"Howard?" asked Michael--"but anyone can be a Talbot or a Howard or a +Cavendish out there--so she is a Mrs. Howard, is she? I wonder who the +husband was--I had a rascally cousin of that name who went to +Arizona--perhaps she married him." + +"Her husband was an American," Henry rejoined, "and is in a madhouse or +an institution for inebriates, I believe." + +"Well, I wish you all joy, Henry, I do, indeed--and I promise you I will +do all I can to help you through with it. I won't retaliate for your +thundering niggardness five years ago, when you would not even be my +best man, do you remember?" + +"This is quite different, my dear boy," Lord Fordyce assured him with +dignity. "You were going to do what I thought a most casual thing, just +for your own ends, but I--Michael--" and his cultivated voice vibrated +with feeling--"I love this woman as I never thought I should love +anything on God's earth." + +"Then here's to you!" said Mr. Arranstoun, and ringing the bell for the +waiter, ordered a pint of champagne to drink his friend's health. + +So they had started in the motor after breakfast next day and that night +slept at St. Malo--getting to Heronac without adventure the following +afternoon. + +When no telegram was awaiting Lord Fordyce at ---- where they +breakfasted, he remarked to Michael: + +"She does not mind your coming--or she would have wired--I wish I were +as indifferent about it--Michael--" and Henry stammered a +little--"you'll promise me as a friend--you will not look into her eyes +with your confounded blue ones and try to cut me out." + +For some reason this appeal touched something in Michael's heart, his +voice was full of cordiality and his blue bold eyes swam with kindly +affection as he answered: + +"I'm not a beast, Henry--and I don't want every woman I see--and anyone +you fancied would in any case be sacred to me," and he held out his +hand. "Give you my word as I told you before, I'll not only promise you +on my honor that I'll not cut in myself, but I'll do everything I can to +help you, old man," then he laughed to hide the seriousness of his +feeling--"even to lending Arranstoun for the honeymoon." + +So they grasped hands and sealed the bargain and got into the motor and +went on their way. + +The first view of Heronac had enchanted them both, it was indeed a +unique place. + +"What taste!" Henry had said. "Fancy a young woman knowing and seeing at +once the possibilities of such a place!" + +"It is as grim as Arranstoun and nearly as old," Michael exclaimed. "I +am glad we came." + +Sabine shrank back into Berthe's little kitchen and signalled to her not +to make known the hostess' presence--but to let the gentlemen drive over +the causeway bridge to the courtyard--where they would be told by +Nicholas that she was in the garden, and would probably be brought there +to her by Madame Imogen who would have welcomed them. + +Her firm will forced her to pull herself together and decide what to do +when they should come face to face. To be totally unconcerned was the +best thing--to look and act as though Michael Arranstoun were indeed a +perfect stranger introduced to her for the first time in her life. It +would take him some moments to be certain that she was Sabine--his +wife--and he would then not be likely to make a scene before Henry--and +when the moment for plain speaking came, she would sternly demand to be +set free. She had kept silence to Henry as to who her husband really +was--for no reason except that the whole subject disturbed her +greatly--the very mention of Michael's name or the thought of him always +filling her with wild and mixed emotions. She had schooled herself in +the years that had gone by since their parting, into absolutely +banishing his memory every time it recurred. She had a vague feeling +that she must be free of him, and safe before she could even pronounce +his name to Lord Fordyce, who naturally must know eventually. There was +an unaccountable and not understood fear in her--fear that in the +discussion which must arise if she spoke of who her husband was to +Henry, that something might transpire, or that she might hear something +which would reawaken certain emotions, and weaken her determination to +break the even empty bond with Michael. And now she had seen him again +with her mortal eyes, and she knew that she was trembling and tingling +with a mad sensation of she knew not what--hatred and revulsion she +hoped! but was only sure of one aspect of it--that of wild excitement. + +No one--not a single soul--neither Simone--Madame Imogen--nor Pere +Anselme himself must be allowed to see that she recognized Michael--her +belief that her countrywomen were fine actresses should stand her in +good stead, and enable her to play this part of unconsciousness to +perfection. _She would_ conquer herself--and she stamped her little foot +there in the high turret bower in the garden where she had retired. Its +windows opened straight out to the sea and she often had tea there. +There would be no use in all her prayers for calm and poise if they +should desert her now in this great crisis of her life. She was bound to +Henry by her promised word, given of her own free will--and she meant to +keep it, and do everything in her power to make herself free. She was an +extremely honest person, honest even with herself, and she realized that +either her own weakness or indecision, or some other motive had forced +her to give a definite answer to Lord Fordyce--and that he was too fine +a character to be played with and tossed about because of her moods. She +had mastered every sign of emotion by the time Madame Imogen's +comfortable figure, accompanied by the two men, could be seen advancing +in the distance. She rose with the gracious smile of a hostess and held +out her hand--pleased surprise upon her face. + +"So you have come! but earlier than I thought," and she shook hands with +Henry, and then turned to his friend without the slightest +embarrassment, as Lord Fordyce spoke his name. + +"How do you do," she said politely. "You are both very welcome to +Heronac." + +Michael had merely seen a pretty outline of a young woman until they had +got quite close and she had raised her head and lifted the shadow of her +big garden sun-bonnet--and then he stiffened suddenly and grew very +pale. He was a little behind the other two, and they observed nothing, +but Sabine saw the change of color in his healthy handsome face, and the +look of surprise and incredulity and puzzle which grew in his blue eyes. + +"How do you do?" he murmured, and then pulled himself together and +looked at her hard. + +But she stood his scrutiny with perfect unconcern--even meeting his eye +with a blank, agreeable want of recognition; while she made some +ordinary remark about their journey. Then pointing to her basket: + +"See--I was picking flowers for my sitting-room and I did not expect you +for another hour--what a silent motor you must have that its noise did +not penetrate here!" + +Henry was so overcome with joy to see her, and that she should be so +gracious and sweet--he said all sorts of nice things and walked by her +side as they came down from the turret summer-house. She looked the +picture of a fresh June rose as she carried her basket full of August +flowers--phloxes and penstemons and a great bunch of late sweet peas. +And Michael felt almost that he was staggering a little as he followed +with Madame Imogen, the shock had been so great. + +Was it really Sabine--his wife!--or could she have a double in the +world. Maddening uncertainty was his portion. He must know, he must be +certain--and if she were his wife--what then? What did it mean? He +could not claim her--she was engaged to Henry, his friend--to whom he +had given his word of honor that he would help as much as he could. It +was no wonder that he answered Madame Imogen's prattle, crisp and +American and amusing though it was, quite at random--his whole attention +being upon the pair in front. + +Sabine also found that she was not hearing a word Henry said, but that +the wildest excitement which she had ever known was coursing through her +blood. At last she did catch that he was telling her that never had she +been more beautiful or had brighter eyes. + +"This place must suit you even better than Carlsbad," he said. + +She answered laughingly and led the way toward the gate and so across +the causeway and on into her own sitting-room where they would find tea. +She supposed afterwards that she had talked sensibly, but never had any +recollection of what she had said. + +The room was looking singularly beautiful with the wonderful coloring of +the splendid curtains, and the tapestry and dark wood. And it was a +homely place, too, with quantities of book-cases and comfortable chairs +for all its vast size. Michael thought there was a faint look of his own +room at Arranstoun--and he joined the two who had advanced to one of the +huge embrasures of the windows where the tea table was laid--here there +were velvet-covered window seats where one could lounge and gaze out at +the sea. + +"What an exquisite place!" he exclaimed. "It reminds me of Arranstoun, +does it not you, Henry?--although that is not near the sea." + +The color deepened in Sabine's cheeks--had she unconsciously made it +resemble that place? She did not know, and the suggestion struck her +with surprise. + +Michael had recognized her of course, she saw that, but he was a +gentleman and intended to play the game. That was an immense relief. She +could allow herself to look at him critically now--not with just the +cursory glance she had bestowed upon Henry's friend at first--for he had +turned and was talking to Madame Imogen whom Sabine had signed to pour +out the tea--she was not sure if her own hand might not have shaken a +little and it were wiser to take no risks. + +He was horribly good-looking--that jumped to the eye--and with a +careless, indifferent grace--five years had only matured and increased +his attractions. He had "it"--manifesting in every part of him and his +atmosphere! A magnetism, a hateful, odious power which she felt, and +fiercely resented. He had recovered completely from whatever shock he +had felt upon seeing her it would seem! for his face looked absolutely +unconcerned now and perfectly at ease. + +She called all her forces together and played the part of the radiant, +well-mannered hostess, being even extra sweet and charming to Henry, +who was in the seventh heaven in consequence. The dreaded introduction +of his too-fascinating friend at Heronac had passed off well and his +adored lady did not seem to be taking any notice of him. + +Michael did not seek by word or look to engage her in personal +conversation; if he had really been a stranger who did not even find his +hostess fair, he could not have been more casual or less impressed. And +all the while his pulses were bounding and he was growing more and more +filled with astonishment and emotion. + +At last a thought came. Why, of course! Henry had told her he was +coming, so she had expected the meeting and had had time to school +herself to act! But this straw was not long vouchsafed him, and then +stupefaction set in, for Henry chanced to say: + +"You must forgive me for not having time to write you my friend's name +in my postscript, the post was off that minute--you had to take him on +trust!" + +"I do not know that I even caught it just now!" Sabine returned archly. +"Mr. ----?" + +And Henry, engaged for a moment taking a second cup of tea from Madame +Imogen's fat hand, Michael answered for him, looking straight into her +eyes: + +"Michael Howard Arranstoun of Arranstoun over the border in +Scotland--like Gretna Green." + +"How romantic that sounds," Madame Imogen chimed in. "Why, it's a name +fit for a stage play I do think. A party of my friends visited that very +castle only last fall. Mrs. Howard dear, it's as well known as the +Trossachs to investigators of the antique!" + +"Wonderfully interesting!" Sabine remarked blandly--putting more sugar +in her tea--at which Michael's eyebrows raised themselves in a whimsical +way--back had rushed to him the recollection that on the only occasion +they had ever drunk tea together before, she had said that she liked +"lumps and lumps of it!" + +"You probably know England?" he hazarded politely. + +"Very little. I was once there for a month when I was a child; we went +to see Windermere and the Lakes." + +"You got no further north? That was a pity, our country is most +beautiful--but it is not too late--you may go there yet some day." + +"Who knows?" and she laughed gaily--she had to allow herself some +outlet, she felt she would otherwise have screamed. + +Michael looked away out to sea and he told himself he must not tease her +any more. She was astonishingly game--so astonishingly game that but for +the name "Howard" he could have almost believed that this young woman +was his Sabine's double--but he remembered now that she had said she was +going to call herself Mrs. Howard because otherwise she would not be +able to "have any fun!" + +He had never recollected it since, not even when Henry had told him the +lady of his heart was called Howard--obscured by his friend's assertion +that her husband was an American, he had not for an instant suspected +the least connection with himself. + +Until he could find out the meaning of all this comedy, he must not let +Henry have an idea that there was anything underneath; and then with a +pang of mortification and pain he remembered his promise to Henry--and +he clenched his hands in his coat pockets, he was indeed tied and bound. + +Sabine for her part felt she could bear the situation no longer; she +must be alone--so on the plea of letters to write, she dismissed them +with Madame Imogen to show them to their rooms in the other part of the +house which was connected to this, her two great turrets and middle +immense room, by a passage which went along from the turret which +contained her bedroom. + +"You won't mind, perhaps, dining at half past seven?" she said as she +paused at her door, "because our good Cure, Pere Anselme is coming, and +he hates to sit up late." + +And with the corner of his eye, Michael saw that before he hurried after +him, Henry had bent and surreptitiously kissed his hostess' hand--and a +sudden blinding, unreasoning rage shook him as he stalked on to his +allotted apartment. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Sabine decided to be a little late for dinner--three minutes, just to +give the rest of the party time to be assembled in the big salon. She +was coming from the communicating passage to her part of the house when +Mr. Arranstoun came out of his room, and they were obliged to go down +the great staircase together. + +To see him suddenly in evening dress like this brought her wedding night +back so vividly to her, she with difficulty kept a gasp from her breath. +He was certainly the most splendidly good-looking creature, with his +blue eyes and dark hair and much fairer little moustache. + +"I am late!" she cried laughing, before he could speak a word. "Pere +Anselme will scold me! Come along!" and she tripped forward with a +glance over her shoulder. + +Michael's eyes blazed--she was a truly bewitching morsel in her fresh +white frock with its bunch of crimson sweet peas stuck in the belt. + +"Your flowers should be stephanotis," he said, and that was all, as he +followed her down the stairs. + +"I cannot bear them," she retorted and shuddered a little. "I only care +for out-door, simple things like my sweet peas." + +He did not speak as they went along the gallery--this disconcerted +her--what did it mean? She had been prepared to fence with him, and keep +him in his place, she was ready to defend herself on all sides--and no +defence seemed necessary! A sudden cold feeling came over her as though +excitement had died down and she opened the salon door quickly and +advanced into the room. + +Michael had come to a determination while dressing--Henry had walked in +and smoked a cigarette with him before he began, and had then showed +plainly his joy and satisfaction. She--his worshiped lady--had never +before been so tender and gracious, and he was awfully happy because +things were going well. And what did his friend Michael think of his +choice? Was she not the sweetest woman in the world? + +Michael said he had seen better-looking ones, but admitted she had +charm. He was really suffering, the situation was so impossible and he +had not yet made up his mind what he ought to do--tell Henry straight +out that Sabine was his wife or what? If he did that he might be going +contrary to some plan of hers--for she evidently had no intention yet of +informing Lord Fordyce, or of giving the least indication that she +recognized him--Michael. It was the most grotesque puzzle and contained +an element of the tragic, too--for one of them. + +Henry's happiness and contentment touched him--his dear old friend!--he +felt extraordinarily upset. But when Lord Fordyce had gone he rapidly +reviewed matters and made up his mind. At all events, for the present, +he would be guided by what Sabine's attitude should be herself. He would +certainly see her alone on the following day and then she would most +likely broach the subject and they could agree what to do--for that +Henry must know some day was an incontestable fact. He, Michael, would +make some excuse and leave Heronac by the next evening, it was +impossible to go on playing such a part, and not fair to any one, least +of all to his friend. + +"I will give her to-night to declare her hand," he thought, as his +valet, no longer the dignified Johnson, handed him his coat, "and then +if she will not put the cards down--I must." + +But when he opened his door and saw her exquisite slender figure +tripping forward from the dark passage, a fierce pain gripped his heart, +and he said between his teeth: + +"My God! if it had not been too late!" + +The Dame d'Heronac was in wild spirits at dinner--and her cheeks burned +like glowing roses. Monsieur le Cure watched her with his wise, black +eye. + +"The child is not herself," he thought. "It is possible that this +Englishman may mean a great deal to her--but he is of the gentle type, +not of the sort one would believe to make strong passions--no--now if it +had been the other one--the friend--that one could have seen some light +through--a young man well able to fill the heart of any woman--a fine +young man, a splendid young man--but yes." + +Madame Imogen made no reflections, she was too delighted with their gay +repast, and helped with her jolly wit to keep the ball rolling. + +Henry felt slightly intoxicated with happiness--while in Michael, +passions of various sorts were rising, against his will. + +A devil was in Sabine--never had she been so alluring, so feminine, so +completely removed from her usual grave, indifferent self. + +She did not look at Michael once or vouchsafe him any conversation +beyond what cordial politeness compelled. It was to Pere Anselme that +she almost made love, with shy sallies at Henry, and merry replies to +Madame Imogen. But her whole atmosphere was radiating with provoking +fascination--and as they all rose from table she took Lord Fordyce's +arm. + +"In England, I hear you men remain in the dining room to drink all sorts +of ports--but here in my France we expect you to be sociable and come +with us at once--you may smoke where you choose." + +Henry could not refrain from caressing with his other hand the little +cold one lying on his arm as they walked along--while he whispered with +passionate devotion: + +"My darling, darling girl!" + +"Hush!" she answered nervously. "Your friend will hear!" + +"And if he does! what matter, dearest--he knows that I love you, and +that as soon as you are free you are going to be my wife." + +There must have been a slight roughness in the carpet which slid upon +the slippery floor, for the Dame d'Heronac stumbled a little and then +gasped: + +"He--knows that----!" + +And by the time they all reached the salon, her rosy cheeks were pale, +while the pupils of her violet eyes were so large as to make them appear +to be black as night. + +The gay sprite of the dinner-table seemed to have taken her departure +and a dignified and serious hostess filled her place. A hostess who +discoursed of gardens, and architecture, and such subjects--and at ten +o'clock when the Pere Anselme gave his blessing and wished the company +good-night, also gave a white hand to her guests, saying that Madame +Imogen would show them the small salon where they could smoke and have +their drinks before retiring to their rooms, then she bowed to them and +walked off slowly to her part of the house. + +When she had gone, Michael said a little hoarsely to Henry: + +"I have got the fiend of a headache, old man. I think I won't smoke, but +turn in at once." + +An hour or two later, when the whole chateau was wrapped in +darkness--the mistress of it crept from her bed-room to the great +sitting-room, and turning on the light, she unlocked a blue despatch-box +which stood beside her writing-table. From this she took a letter, +marked a little with former perusals--and she read it over once more +from beginning to end. + +It had + + Arranstoun Castle, + Scotland, + +stamped upon it in red and it bore a date in June, 1907. It had no +beginning and thus it ran: + + Since after everything I wake to find you have chosen to leave me + you can abide by your decision. I will not follow you or ever seek + to bring you back. It is useless to ask you if you meant that you + forgave me--because your going proves that you really have not--so + make what you please of your life as I shall make what I please of + mine. + + Michael Arranstoun. + +When she put the paper back again, glittering tears gathered and rolled +in shining drops down her cheeks. + +He had meant that last paragraph then, and he meant it now evidently, +since he knew that she was pledged to marry Henry when she should be +free, and had made no protest. Perhaps he was glad and intended to marry +Miss Daisy van der Horn! Her tears dried suddenly--and her cheeks +burned. She must think this situation out, and not just drift. It was +plain that Michael had been astonished to the point of stupefaction on +seeing her. He could not have known then that his friend wished to marry +her--Sabine--only that his friend wished to marry the lady they were +going to see. But he knew it afterwards, he knew it at dinner--and yet +he said never a word. What could it mean? What could be best to do? +Perhaps to see him alone in the morning and ask him to grant her freedom +and get the divorce as quickly as possible. She could count upon herself +not to betray the slightest feeling in the interview. If only that +strange turn of fate had not brought Lord Fordyce into her life, what +glorious pleasure she would now take in trying her uttermost to +fascinate and attract Michael--not that she desired him for +herself!--only to punish him for all the past! But she was not free. She +had given her word to Henry. The humiliation of feeling that Michael was +making no protest, and would apparently from this fact agree willingly +to divorce her, stung her pride and made her want to make him suffer and +regret in some way. If she could believe that it was paining him, she +would be glad--and if it appeared possible to keep up the pretence of +unrecognition for longer than to-morrow, she would certainly do so; it +was a frantic excitement in any case, and she adored difficult games. +Then as she put the letter back in her despatch-box, her hand touched a +large blue enamel locket, and with a shiver she hastily shut down the +lid, and as one fleeing from a ghost she ran back to bed. + +Michael meanwhile was pacing his room in deep and agitated thought. + +How supremely attractive she was! And to have to give her up to Henry; +it was too frightfully cruel. But he had absolutely no right to stand in +either of their lights. He had not even the right to undermine his +friend's influence by deed or look, since he had given him his word of +honor that he would not do so. What a blind fool he had been all those +years ago to let passionate rage at Sabine's daring to leave him make +him write her that letter. He would not have done it if he had not felt +such an intolerable brute--and glad to cut the whole thing by accepting +Latimer Berkeley's suggestion to join him for the China expedition at +once. The Berkeley letter coming that next morning was a stroke of fate. +If he had had a day to think about things, he would have followed his +impulse after the anger died down, and gone after her to Mr. Parsons' +London address, but he had already wired to Latimer and his resentful +blood was up. + +He remembered how he had not allowed himself to think of her--but had +concentrated his whole mind upon his sport. For it had been tremendous +sport and had interested him deeply, that journey to Tibet. And however +strong feelings may be at moments--absence and fresh interests dull +them. To banish her memory became a good deal easier as time went on, +and even the idea to divorce her if she wished did not seem too hard. + +But now he had seen her again--and every spell she had cast over him on +that June night was renewed ten-fold. She was everything he could +desire--she was beautiful and sweet and witty, with a charm which only +complete independence and indifference can ever give a woman in the eyes +of such a man as he. This he did not reason out--thinking himself a very +ordinary person--in fact, never thinking of himself at all or what his +temperament was affected by. He did not realize either that the very +fact of Sabine's being now out of his reach made her appear the one and +only thing he cared to possess. He knew nothing except that he felt +perfectly mad with fate--mad with himself for making an unconditional +promise to Henry, perfectly furious that he had been too stupid to +connect the name of Howard at once with his wife. + +And here he was sleeping in her castle--not she sleeping in his! And he +was conforming to her lead--not she following his. And the only thing +for a gentleman to do under the complicated circumstances was to +speedily divorce her according to the Scottish law and let her marry +his friend, Henry Fordyce--give them his blessing and lend them +Arranstoun for the honeymoon! + +When he got thus far in his meditations, he simply stood in the middle +of the room and cursed aloud. + +Never in his whole life had bolts or bars or circumstances been allowed +to keep him from his will. + +And then it did come to his shrewd mind that these things were not +circumstances, but were barriers forged _by himself_. + +"If I had not been such an awful brute--and the moment had not been--as +it was--I might have gradually made her love me and kept her always for +my own!" his thoughts ran. "Well--we were both too young then--and now I +must take the consequences and at least not be a swine to poor old +Henry." + +With superb irony, among his letters next morning which he had wired to +be forwarded to Heronac, there came one from his lawyer, informing him +that he had received a guarded communication from his wife's +representative, Mr. Parsons--with what practically amounted to a request +that he, Mr. Arranstoun, should begin to set the law in motion, to break +the bond between them--and his lawyer inquired what his wishes were upon +the subject and what should be the nature of their reply? + +To get this at Heronac--Sabine's house! He shook with fierce laughter in +his bed. + +Then his temper got up, and he came to a fresh determination. He would +break her pride--she should kneel if she wanted her freedom, she should +have it only if she asked him for it herself. He would not leave that +day after all! He would stay and play the comedy to its end. While she +would not recognize him, he would not recognize her. It was she who had +set the pace and the responsibility of not informing Henry lay at her +door. It was a damnably exciting game--far beyond polo or even slaying +long-haired tigers in Manchuria--and he would play it and bluff without +a card in his hand. + +He was not a noble hero, you see, but just a strong and passionate young +man--with "it"! + +The day was so gorgeous--Sabine woke with some kind of joyousness. She +was only twenty-two years old and supremely healthy; and however +complicated fate seemed to be, when nerves and appetite are perfect and +the sun is shining, it is really impossible to feel too gloomy. + +Her periwinkle cambric was a reflection of her eyes, and her brown hair +seemed filled with rays of gold as she stepped across the courtyard at +about ten o'clock on her way to the garden. Her guests would sleep +late--and at breakfast at twelve would be time enough to see them. + +But Michael caught sight of the top of a wide straw hat, and the flutter +of a bluish gown from his window, and did not hesitate for a second. +Henry, he knew, was only in his bath, while he himself was fully +dressed in immaculate white flannels. + +It did not take him five minutes to gain the courtyard, or to saunter +over the causeway bridge, and into the garden--he had brought the +English papers with him, which had been among his post. He would pretend +he had sought solitude and would be duly surprised and pleased to +encounter his hostess. That he had no business in her private garden at +all without her invitation did not trouble him, things like that never +blocked his way; he had always been too welcome anywhere for such an +aspect even to have presented itself to him. + +He played his part to perfection--reconnoitering as stealthily as when +he was stalking big game, until he perceived his quarry at the far end +among the lavender, giving orders to a gardener. He then turned in the +opposite direction, with great unconsciousness, to read the paper in +peace apparently being his only care! Here he paced the walk which cut +off her retreat from the gate, never glancing up. Sabine saw him of +course, and her heart began to beat--was it possible for a man to be so +good-looking or so utterly casual and devil-may-care! If she walked +toward the arbor turret he would be obliged to see her when she came to +the end, and then must come up and say good-morning. She picked up her +flower-basket and went that way, and with due surprise and pleasure, +Michael looked up from his paper at exactly the right moment and caught +sight of her. + +He came toward her with just the proper amount of haste and raised his +straw hat in a gay good-morning. + +"Isn't it a divine day," he said. "I had to come out and read the +papers--and the courtyard looked so dull and I did not know where else +to go--it is luck finding you here!" + +"I always come into the garden in the morning when it is fine--I know +every plant and they are all my friends." Then to hide the pleasurable +excitement she was feeling, she bent down and picked a bit of lavender. + +"I love that smell--won't you give me some, too?" he pleaded--and she +handed him a sprig which he fixed in his white coat. "You have made the +most enchanting place of this," he next told her. "Can't we go up and +sit in that summer-house while you tell me how you began? Henry said all +this was a ruin when you bought it some years ago--it is extraordinarily +clever of you." + +Not the slightest embarrassment was in his manner, not the smallest look +of extra meaning in his eyes; he was simply a guest and she a hostess, +out together in the sunlight. A sense of unreality stole over Sabine. It +could not be all true--it was just some dream--a little more vivid, that +was all, than those which used to come to her of him sometimes +during--that year. She almost felt that she would like to put out her +hand and touch him to see if he were tangible or a thing of illusion as +she led the way to the turret summer-house. + +The wall which protected the garden from the sea was very high and this +little tower had been in the original fortifications and had been +cleverly adapted to its present use. It was open, with glass which slid +back on the southern side, and its great windows looked out over the +blue waters and granite rocks on the other. The little bay curved round +so that from there you got a three-quarter view of the chateau. + +Sabine put her basket down, and climbing up the wooden step she seated +herself upon the high window-seat, her feet dangling while she opened +the casement wide. Michael stood beside her leaning upon the sill--so +that she was slightly above him. + +"What a glorious view!" he exclaimed; "it is certainly a perfect spot. +Why, it has everything! The sea and its waves to dash up at it--and then +this lovely garden for shelter and peace. What a fortunate young woman +you are!" + +"Yes, am I not?" + +"I have an old castle, too--perhaps Henry has told you about it. We have +owned it ever since Adam, I suppose!" and he laughed. "The grim part of +this is rather like it in a way; I mean the stone passages and huge +rooms--but of course the architecture is different. It has been the +scene of every sort of fight. I should like to show it to you some day." + +Stupefaction rose in Sabine's mind. After all, had she been mistaken, +and had he really not recognized her?--or had her acting of the night +before convinced him that his first ideas must be wrong and that she was +really not his wife! Excitement thrilled her. But if he was playing a +part, she then must certainly play, too, and not speak to him about the +divorce until he spoke to her. Thus they were unconsciously the one set +against the other and both determined that the other should show first +hand. It looked as though the interests of Lord Fordyce might be somehow +forgotten! + +They talked thus for half an hour, Michael asking questions about +Heronac with polite interest and without ever saying a sentence with a +double meaning, and she replying with frank information, and both +burning with excitement and zest. Then her great charm began to affect +him so profoundly that unconsciously something of eagerness and emotion +crept into his voice. It was one of those voices full of extraordinarily +attractive cadences at any time, and made for the seducing of a woman's +ear. Sabine knew that she was enjoying herself with a wild kind of +forbidden joy--but she did not analyze its cause. It could not be mean +to Henry just to talk about Heronac when she was not by word or look +deliberately trying to fascinate his friend--she was only being +naturally polite and casual. + +"Arranstoun only wants the sea," Michael said at last, "and then it +would be as perfect as this. I have a big, old sitting-room, too, that +was once part of a great hall, and my bedroom is the other half--a suite +all to myself--but I have not been there for five years--I am going back +from here." + +"How strange to be away from your home for so long," Sabine remarked +innocently. "Where have you been?" + +Then he told her all about China and Tibet. + +"I had taken some kind of distaste for Arranstoun and shirked going +there--I shall have to face it now, I suppose, because it is such hard +luck on the people when an owner is away, and so one must come up to the +scratch." + +"Yes," she agreed, "one must always do that." + +"I used to think out a lot of things when I was in the wilds--and I grew +to know that one is a great fool when young--and a great brute." + +She began to pull her lavender to pieces--this conversation was growing +too dangerously fascinating and must be stopped at once. + +"It is getting nearly breakfast-time," she said gaily, "and I just want +to pick a big bunch of sweet peas before the sun gets on them, won't you +help me?--and then we will go in." + +She slid to the floor before he could put out a hand to assist her, and +with her swift, graceful movements led the way to the tall sticks where +the last of the summer sweet peas grew. + +Here she handed him the basket and told him to work hard--and all the +while she chattered of the ways of these flowers, and the trouble she +had had to make them grow there, and would not once let the conversation +upon this subject flag. + +"Some day when I live in England, I suppose I can have a lovely garden +there--it is famous for gardens, isn't it? I take in _Country Life_ and +try to learn from it." + +"Yes," he answered, and grew stiff. The sudden picture of her living in +England--with Henry--came to him as an ugly shock. + +"Before you settle down in England, I would like you to see +Arranstoun,--please promise me to come and stay there before you do? I +will have a party whenever you like. I would love to show it to +you--every part of it--especially the chapel--it is full of wonderful +things!" + +If she chose to give him reminders of aspects which hurt, he would do +the same! + +"It sounds most interesting," she agreed, but had not the courage to +make any remarks about the chapel or ask what it contained. + +The clock over the gateway struck twelve--and she laughingly started to +walk very fast toward the house. + +"Madame Imogen and Lord Fordyce will be ravenous--come, let us go +quickly--I can even run!" + +So they strode on together with the radiant faces of those exalted by +an exciting game, on the way passing Pere Anselme. + +And in the cool tapestried antechamber of the _salle-a-manger_, they +found Henry looking from the window a little wistfully, and a pang of +self-reproach struck both their hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +All through breakfast, Sabine devoted herself sedulously to Lord +Fordyce--and this produced two results. It sent Henry into a seventh +heaven and caused Michael to burn with jealous rage. Primitive instincts +were a good deal taking possession of him--and he found it extremely +difficult to keep up his role of disinterested friend. It must be +admitted he was in really a very difficult position for any man, and it +is not very easy to decide what he ought to have done short of telling +Henry the truth at once--but this he found grew every moment more hard +to do. It would mean that he would have to leave Heronac immediately. In +any case, he must do this directly. Sabine admitted, even to him, that +she was his wife. They could not together agree to leave Henry in +ignorance, that would be deliberately deceiving, and would make them +both feel too mean. But while nothing was even tacitly confessed, there +seemed some straw for his honor to grasp; he clutched at it knowing its +flimsy nature. He had given himself until the next day and now refused +to look beyond that. Every moment Sabine was attracting him more +deeply--and bringing certain memories more vividly before him with +maddening tantalization. + +But did she love Henry? Of that he could not be sure. If she did, he +certainly must divorce her at once. If she did not--why was she wishing +to marry him? Henry was an awfully good fellow, far better than he--but +after all, she was his wife--even though he had forfeited all right to +call her so, and if she did not love Henry, no friendship toward him +ought to be allowed to stand in the way of their reunion. It is +astonishing how civilization controls nature! If we put as much force +into the controlling of our own thoughts as we put into acting up to a +standard of public behavior, what wonderful creatures we should become! + +Here were these two human beings--young and strong and full of passion, +playing each a part with an art as great as any displayed at the Comedie +Francaise! And all for reasons suggested by civilization!--when nature +would have solved the difficulty in the twinkling of an eye! + +Michael spent a breakfast hour in purgatory. It was plain to be seen +that Henry expected him to show some desire to go fishing, or to want +some other sport which required solitude, or only the company of Madame +Imogen--and his afternoon looked as if it were not going to be a thing +of joy. The result of civilization then made him say: + +"May I take out that boat I saw in the little harbor after breakfast, +Mrs. Howard? I must have some real exercise. Two days in a motor is too +much." + +And his hostess graciously accorded him a permission, while her heart +sank--at least she experienced that unpleasant physical sensation of +heaviness somewhere in the diaphragm which poets have christened +heart-sinking! She knew it was quite the right thing for him to have +done,--and yet she wished fervently that they could have spent another +hour like the one in the turret summer-house. + +Henry was radiant--and as Michael went off through the postern and down +to the little harbor where the boats lay, he asked in fine language what +were his beloved's wishes for the afternoon? + +Sabine felt pettish, she wanted to snap out that she did not care a +single sou what they did, but she controlled herself and answered +sweetly that she would take him all over the chateau and ask his opinion +and advice about some further improvements she meant to make. + +They strolled first to the crenellated wall of the courtyard along which +there was a high walk from which you looked down upon the boat-house and +the little jetty--this wall made the fourth side of the courtyard, and +with the gate tower, and the concierge's tower across the causeway, and +part of the garden elevation, was the very oldest of the whole chateau, +and dated from early feudal times. + +They leaned upon the stone and looked down at the sea. + +"There are only a very few days in the year that Minne-ha-ha ever comes +out of her shed," Sabine told him, pointing to the boat-house. "You +cannot imagine what the wind is here--even now it may get up in a few +moments on this glassy sea, or thunder may come--and in the autumn the +storms are too glorious. I sit at one of the big windows in my +sitting-room and watch the waves for hours; they break on the rocks +which stretch out from the tower, which is my bedroom on the Finisterre +side, and they rise mountain-high; it is a most splendid sight. We are, +as it were, in the midst of a cauldron of boiling foam. It exalts and +vitalizes me more than I can tell you. I wish it had been the autumn +now." + +"I don't," he said. "I much prefer the summer and peace. I want to take +away all that desire for fierce things, dearest--they were the echoes of +those dark thoughts and shadows which used to be in your eyes at +Carlsbad." + +"Ah, if you could!" she sighed. + +It was the first time he had ever seen her moved--and it distressed him. + +"Do you not think that I can, then?" he asked, tenderly. "It is the only +thing I really want in life--to make you happy." + +"How good you are, Henry!" she cried; "so noble and unselfish and true; +you frighten me. I am just a creature of earth--full of things you may +not like when you know me better. I am sure I think of myself more than +any one else--you make me--ashamed." + +He took her hand and kissed it, while his fine gray eyes melted in +worship. + +"I will not even listen when you say such things--for me you are +perfect--a pearl of great price." + +"I must try to be, but I am not," and her voice trembled a little. "I +believe I am as full of faults and life as your friend there--Mr. +Arranstoun, who I am sure is just a selfish, reckless man!" + +Michael at this moment reached the boat-house with old Berthe's son, who +began to help him to untie the one he wanted. He looked the most +splendid creature there in his white flannels--and he turned and waved +to them and then got in and pulled out a few yards with long, easy +strokes. + +"Michael is a character," his friend said. "He has been spoilt all his +life by women--and fortune. He has a most strange story. He married a +girl about five years ago just to make himself safe from another woman +whom he had been making love to. I was awfully angry with him at the +time--I was staying in the house and I refused to wait for the wedding. +I thought it such a shame to the girl, although it was merely an empty +ceremony--but she was awfully young, I believe." + +"How interesting!" and Sabine's voice was strained. "You saw the +girl--what was she like?" + +"No, I never saw her--it was all settled one afternoon when I was +out--and I thought it such a thundering shame that I left that same +night." + +"And if you had stayed--you would have met her--how curious fate is +sometimes--isn't it? Perhaps you could have prevented your friend being +so foolish--if you had stayed." + +"No, nothing in the world would ever prevent Michael from doing what he +wanted to--it is in the blood of all those old border families--heredity +again--they flourished by imposing their wills recklessly and snatching +and fighting, and who ever survived was a strong man. It has come down +to them in force and vigor and daring unto this day." + +"But what happened about the marriage?" Sabine asked. "It interests me +so much; it sounds so romantic at this matter-of-fact time." + +"Nothing happened, except that they went through the ceremony and the +girl left at once that same night, I believe, and Michael has never seen +or heard of her since--he tells me the time is up now when he can +divorce her for desertion, according to Scotch law--and I fancy he will. +It is a ridiculous position for them both. He does not even know if she +has not preferred some one else by now." + +"Surely she would have given some sign if she had--but perhaps he does +not care." + +"Not much. I fancy he amused himself a good deal at Ostende--" and +Henry smiled. "He has been away in the wilds for five years and +naturally has come back full of zest for civilization." + +Sabine's full lips curled, and she looked at the sea again, and the +figure in the boat rapidly pulling away from the shore. + +"If he chose to leave her alone all these years, he could not expect +anything else, could he, than that she would have grown to care for +another man." + +"No, that is what I told him--and he said he was a dog in the manger." + +"He did not want her himself, and yet did not wish to give her to any +one else--how disgustingly selfish!" + +"Men are proverbially selfish," and Henry smiled again; "it is the +nature of the creatures." + +The violet eyes were glowing as stars might glow could they be +angry--and their owner turned away from the sea with a fine shrug of her +shoulders--her thoughts were raging. So that is how Michael looked upon +the _affaire_! He was just the dog in the manger, and she was the hay! +But never, never would she submit to that! She would speak to him when +he came in and ask him to divorce her at once. Why should Henry ever +know?--even if Scotch divorces were reported she would appear, not as +Mrs. Howard, but as Mrs. Arranstoun,--then a discouraging thought +came--only Sabine was such an uncommon name--if it were not for that he +might never guess. But whether Henry ever knew or did not know, the +sooner she were free the better, and then she would marry him and adorn +his great position in the world--and Michael would see her there, and +how well she fulfilled her duties--so even yet she would be able to +punish him as he deserved! Hay! Indeed! Never, never, never! + +Then she knew she must have been answering at random some of Lord +Fordyce's remarks, for a rather puzzled look was on his face. + +A strong revulsion of feeling came to her. Henry suddenly appeared in +his best guise--and a wave of tenderness for him swept over her. How +kind and courteous and devoted he was--treating her always as his queen. +She could be sure of homage here--and that far from being hay; she would +be the most valued jewel in his crown of success. She would rise into +spheres where she would be above the paltry emotions caused by a hateful +man just because he had "it"! + +So she gave her hand to Henry in a burst of exuberance and let him place +it in his arm, and then lead her back into the chateau and through all +the rooms, where they discussed blues and greens and stuffs and +furniture and the lowering of this doorway and the heightening of that, +and at last they drifted to the garden and to the lavender hedge--but +she would not take him into the summer-house or again look out on the +sea. + +All through her sweetness there was a note of unrest--and Henry's fine +senses told him so--and this left the one drop of bitterness in his +otherwise blissful cup. + +Michael meanwhile was expending his energy and his passion in swift +movement in the boat--but after a while he rested on his oars and then +he began to think. + +There was no use in going on with the game after all--he ought to go +away at once. If he stayed and saw her any more he would not be able to +leave her at all. He knew he would only break his promise to Henry--tell +Sabine that he had fallen madly in love with her--implore her again to +forgive him for everything in the past and let them begin afresh. But he +was faced with the horrible thought of the anguish to Henry--Henry, his +old friend, who trusted him and who was ten times more worthy of this +dear woman than he was himself. + +He had never been so full of impotency and misery in his life--not even +on that morning in June when he woke and found Sabine had left +him--defied him and gone--after everything. Pure rage had come to his +aid then--but now he had only remorse and longing--and anger with fate. + +"It must all depend upon whether or no she loves Henry," he said to +himself at last--"and this I will make her tell me this very afternoon." + +But when he got back and went into the garden he happened to witness a +scene. + +Sabine--overcome by Lord Fordyce's goodness, had let him hold her arm +while her head was perilously near to his shoulder. It all looked very +intimate and lover-like when seen from afar. The greatest pain Michael +Arranstoun had ever experienced came into his heart, and without waiting +a second he turned on his heel and went back to the house. Here he had a +bath and changed his clothes, while his servant packed, and then, with +the help of Madame Imogen, he looked up a train. Yes, there was a fast +one which went to Paris from their nearest little town--he could just +catch it by ordering Henry's motor--this he promptly did--and leaving +the best excuses he could invent with Madame Imogen, he got in and +departed a few minutes before his hostess and Lord Fordyce came back to +tea at five. + +He had written a short note to Sabine--which Nicholas handed to her. + +She opened it with trembling fingers; this was all it was: + + I understand--and I will get the divorce as soon as the law will + allow, and I will try to arrange that Henry need never know. I + would like you just to have come to Arranstoun once more--perhaps I + can persuade Henry to bring you there in the autumn. + + Michael Arranstoun. + +It was as well that Lord Fordyce had gone up to his room--for the lady +of Heronac grew white as death for a moment, and then crumpling the note +in her hand she staggered up the old stone stairs to her great +sitting-room. + +So he had gone then--and they could have no explanation. But he had +come out of the manger--and was going to let the other animal eat the +hay. + +This, however, was very poor comfort and brought no consolation on its +wings. Civilization again won the game. + +For she had to listen unconcernedly to Madame Imogen's voluble +description of Michael's leaving--pressing business which he had +mistaken the date about--finally she had to pour out tea and smile +happily at Henry and Pere Anselme. + +But when she was at last alone, she flung herself down by the window +seat and shook all over with sobs. + +Michael's note to Henry was characteristic: + + I'm bored, my dear Henry--the picture of your bliss is not + inspiriting--so I am off to Paris and thence home. I hope you'll + think I behaved all right and played the game. + + Took your motor to catch train. + + Yrs., + M.A. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The Pere Anselme was uneasy. Very little escaped his observation, and he +saw at tea that his much loved Dame d'Heronac was not herself. She had +not been herself the night before at dinner either--there was more in +the coming of these two Englishmen than met the eye. He had seen her +with Michael in the morning in the summer-house from a corner of the +garden, too, where he was having a heated argument with the gardener in +chief, as well as when he met them on the causeway bridge. He felt it +his duty to do something to smooth matters, but what he could not +decide. Perhaps she would tell him about it on the morrow, when he met +her as was his custom on days that were not saints' days interfered with +by mass. + +"I shall be at the gate at nine o'clock, _ma fille_," he said, when he +wished her good-day. "With your permission, we must decide about the +clematis trellis for the north wall without delay." + +Henry accompanied the old man on his walk back to the village--and they +conversed in cultivated and stilted French of philosophy and of Breton +fisher-folk, and of the strange, melancholy type they seemed to have. + +"They look ever out to sea," the priest said; "they are watching the +deep waters and are conscious forever of their own and loved ones' +dangers--they are _de braves gens_." + +"It seems so wonderful that anything so young and full of life as Mrs. +Howard should have been drawn to live in such an isolated place, does it +not, _mon pere_?" Henry asked. "It seems incongruous." + +"When she came first she was very sad. She had cause for much sorrow, +the dear child--and the sea was her mate; together she and I, with the +sea, have studied many things. She deserves happiness, Monsieur, her +soul is as pure and as generous as an angel's--if Monsieur knew what she +does for my poor people and for all who come under her care!" + +"It will be the endeavor of my life to make her happy, Father," and Lord +Fordyce's voice was full of feeling. + +"Happiness can only be secured in two ways, my son. Either it comes in +the guise of peace, after the flames have burnt themselves out--or it +comes through fusion of love at fever heat----" + +"Yes?" Henry faltered, rather anxiously. + +"When there are still some cinders alight--the peaceful happiness is not +quite certain of fulfilment; it becomes an experiment then with some +risks." + +"What makes you say this to me?" + +The old priest did not look at him, but continued to gaze ahead. + +"I have the welfare of our Dame d'Heronac very strongly at heart, +Monsieur, as you can guess, and I am not altogether sure that the +cinders are not still red. It would be well for you to ascertain whether +this be so or not before you ask her to make fresh bonds." + +"You think she still cares for her husband, then?" Henry was very pale. + +"I do not know that she ever cared--but I do know that even his memory +has power to disturb her. He must have been just such another as your +friend, the Seigneur of Arranstoun. It is his presence which has +reminded her of something of the past, since it cannot be he himself." + +"No, of course it cannot be Michael--" and Henry laughed shortly. "He is +an Englishman. She had never seen him before yesterday--You think she +seems disturbed?" + +"Yes." + +"What would you have me do, then, Father? I love this woman more than my +life and only desire her happiness." + +The Cure of Heronac shrugged his high shoulders slightly. + +"It is not for me to give advice to a man of the world--but had it been +in the days when I was Gaston d'Heronac, of the Imperial Guard, I should +have told you--Use your intelligence, search, investigate for yourself. +Make her love you--leave nothing vague or to chance. As a priest, I must +say that I find all divorces wrong--and that for me she should remain +the wife of the other man." + +"Even when the man is a drunkard or a lunatic, and there have been no +children?" Henry demanded. + +A strange look came in the old Cure's eye as he glanced at his companion +covertly, and for a second it seemed as though he meant to speak his +thought--but the only words which came were in Latin: + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," and then +he held out his thin, brown hand; they had reached his door. + +"In all cases you have my good wishes, my son, for you seem worthy of +her--my good wishes and my prayers." + +Lord Fordyce mounted the stairs to his lady's sitting-room with lagging +steps. The Pere Anselme's advice had caused him to think deeply, and it +was necessary that he had speech with Sabine, if she would let him come +back into her sitting-room. He knocked at the door softly, as was his +way, and when her voice said "_Entrez_" rather impatiently he did enter +and advance with diffidence. She was sitting with her back to the light +in one of the great window embrasures, so that he could not see the +expression upon her face--and her tone became gentle as she welcomed +him. + +"The evening is so glorious, come and watch the sunset; but there is a +little look of thunder there in the far west--to-morrow we may have a +storm." + +Henry sat down beside her on the orange velvet seat--and his eyes, full +of love and tenderness, sought her face beseechingly. + +"I shall simply hate going the day after to-morrow, dearest," he said. +"If it were not for the sternest duty to my mother, I would ask you to +keep me until Friday--it will be such pain to tear myself away." + +"You have been dear," she answered very low. "You have shown me what +real love in a man means--what tenderness and courtesy can make of life. +Henry--however wayward I may be, you will bear with me, will you not? I +want to be good and happy--" Her sweet voice, with its faintly French +accent, was full of pathos as a child's might be who is asking for +comfort and sympathy for some threatened hurt. "Oh! I want to be in the +sure shelter of your love always, so that storms like that one coming up +over there cannot touch me. I want you to make me forget--everything." + +He was so deeply moved, tears sprang to his eyes--as he bent and kissed +her hands with reverence. + +"My darling--you shall indeed be worshipped and protected and kept from +all clouds--only first tell me, Sabine, straight from your heart, do +you really and truly desire to marry me? I do not ask you to tell me +that you love me yet, because I know that you do not--but I want to know +the truth. If you have a single doubt whether it is for your happiness, +tell it to me--let there be no uncertainties between us--my dear +love----" + +She was silent for a moment, while his tenderness seemed to be pouring +balm upon her troubled spirit. + +"My God!" he cried, fearing her silence. "Sabine, speak to me--I will +not hold you for a second if you would rather be free--if you think I +cannot chase all sad memories away." + +She put out her hand and touched his arm. + +"If you will be content to take me, knowing that I have things to +forget--and if you will help me to forget them, then I know that I want +to marry you, Henry--just as to-night perhaps that little sail we see +out there will long to get in to a safe port." + +He gave her his promise--with passionately loving words, that he would +protect and adore her always, and soothe and cherish her until all +haunting memories were gone. + +And for the first time since they had known one another, Sabine let him +fold her in his arms. + +But the lips which he pressed so fondly were cold, like death--and +afterwards she went quickly to her room. + +The die was irrevocably cast--she could never go back now; she was as +firmly bound to Henry as if she had been already his wife. + +For her nature was tender and honest and true--and Lord Fordyce had +touched the highest chord in it, the chord of her soul. + +But, as she stood looking from the narrow, deep casement up at the +evening sky, suddenly, with terrible vividness, there came back to her +mental vision the chapel at Arranstoun upon her wedding night, with its +gorgeous splendors and the candles and the lilies and their strong +scent, and it was as if she could feel Michael's kiss when the old +clergyman's words were done. + +She started forward with a little moan, and put her hands over her eyes. +Then her will reasserted itself, and her firm lips closed tight. + +Nothing should make her waver or alter her mind now--and these +phantasies should be ruthlessly stamped out. + +She sat down in an armchair, and forced herself to picture her life with +Henry. It would be full of such great and interesting things, and he +would be there to guide and protect her always and keep her from all +regrets. + +So presently she grew calm and comforted, and by the time she was +dressed for dinner, she was even bright and gay, and made a most sweet +and gracious mistress of Heronac and of the heart of Henry Fordyce. +Just as they were leaving the dining-room, Nicholas brought her a +message from Pere Anselme, to the effect that a very bad storm was +coming up, and she must be sure to have the great iron shutters inside +the lower dungeon windows securely closed. He had already told Berthe's +son to take in the little boat. + +And as they crossed the connecting passage, Madame Imogen gave a scream, +for a vivid flash of lightning came in through the open +windows--followed by a terrific crash of thunder, and when they reached +the sitting-room the storm had indeed come. + +It was past midnight when Michael reached Paris, and, going in to the +Ritz, met Miss Daisy Van der Horn and a number of other friends just +leaving after a merry dinner in a private room. They greeted him with +fervor. Where had he been? And would not he dress quickly and come on to +supper with them? + +"Why, you look as glum as an owl, Michael Arranstoun!" Miss Van der Horn +herself informed him. "Just you hustle and put on your evening things, +and we'll make you feel a new man." + +And with the most supreme insolence, before them all he bent down and +kissed both her hands--while his blue eyes blazed with devilment as he +answered: + +"I will join you in half an hour--but if you pull me out of bed like +this, you will have to make a night of it with me. You shan't go home at +all!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A whole month went by, and after the storm peace seemed to cover +Heronac. Sabine gardened with Pere Anselme, and listened to his kindly, +shrewd common sense, and then they read poetry in the afternoons when +tea was over. They read Beranger, Francois Villon, Victor Hugo, and +every now and then they even dashed into de Musset! + +The good Father felt more easy in his mind. After all, his impressions +of Lord Fordyce's character had been very high, and he was not apt to +make mistakes in people--perhaps le bon Dieu meant to make an exception +in favor of the beloved Dame d'Heronac, and to find divorce a good +thing! Sabine had heard from Mr. Parsons that the negotiations had +commenced. It would be some time, though, before she could be free. She +must formally refuse to return when the demand asking her to do so +should come. This she was prepared to carry out. She firmly and +determinedly banished all thought of Michael from her mind, and hardly +ever went into the garden summer-house--because, when she did, she saw +him too plainly standing there in his white flannels, with the sprig of +her lavender in his coat and his bold blue eyes looking up at her with +their horribly powerful charm. The force of will can do such wonders +that, as the days went on, the pain and unrest of her hours lessened in +a great degree. + +Every morning there came an adoring letter from Henry, in which he never +said too much or too little, but everything that could excite her +cultivated intelligence and refresh her soul. In all the after years of +her life, whatever might befall her, these letters of Henry's would have +a lasting influence upon her. They polished and moulded her taste; and +put her on her mettle to answer them, and gradually they grew to be an +absorbing interest. He selected the books she was to read, and sent her +boxes of them. It had been agreed before he left that he would not +return to Heronac for some time; but that in late October, when the +Princess and Mr. Cloudwater got back to Paris, that if they could be +persuaded to come to London, Sabine would accompany them, and make the +acquaintance of Henry's mother and some of his family--who would be in +ignorance of there being any tie between them, and the whole thing could +be done casually and with good sense. + +"I want my mother and my sisters to love you, darling," Henry wrote, +"without a prejudiced eye. My mother would find you perfect, whatever +you were like, if she knew that you were my choice--and for the same +reason my sisters would perhaps find fault with you; so I want you to +make their conquest without any handicap." + +Sabine, writing one of her long letters to Moravia in Italy, said: + + I am very happy, Morri. This calm Englishman is teaching me such a + number of new aspects of life, and making me more determined than + ever to be a very great lady in the future. We are so clever in our + nation, and all the young vitality in us is so splendid, when it is + directed and does not turn to nerves and fads. I am growing so much + _finer_, my dear, under his guidance. You will know me when we + meet--because each day I grow more to understand. + +The Pere Anselme had only one moment of doubt again, just the last +morning before his Dame d'Heronac left for Paris when October had come. +It was raining hard, and he found her in the great sitting-room with a +legal-looking document in her hand. Her face was very pale, and lying on +the writing-table beside her was an envelope directed and stamped. + +It contained her refusal to return to her husband signed and sealed. + +The old priest did not ask her any questions; he guessed, and +sympathized. + +But his lady was too restless to begin their reading, and stole from +window to window looking out on the gray sea. + +"I shall come here for six months in the year just as always, Father," +she said at last. "I can never sever myself from Heronac." + +"God forbid," exclaimed the priest, aghast. "If you left us, the sun no +more would seem to shine." + +"And sometimes I will come--alone--because there will be times, my +Father, when I shall want to fight things out--alone." + +The Pere Anselme took some steps nearer her, and after a moment said, in +a grave voice: + +"Remember always, my daughter, that le bon Dieu settles things for us +mortals if we leave it all to Him--but if we take the helm in the +direction of our own affairs, it may be He will let circumstance draw us +into rough waters. In that case, the only thing for us is to be true to +our word and to our own souls--and to use common sense." + +Sabine looked at him with somber, startled eyes. + +"You mean, that I decided to help myself, Father--about the divorce--and +that now I must look only to myself--It is a terrible thought." + +"You are strong, my child; it may be that you were directed from above, +I cannot say," and he shrugged his shoulders gently. "Only that the good +God is always merciful. What you must be is true to yourself. _Pax +vobiscum_," and he placed his hand upon her head. + +But, for once, Sabine lost control of her emotions and, bursting into a +passion of tears, she rushed from the room. + +"Alas! all is well?" said the priest, half aloud, and then he knelt by +the window and prayed fervently--without telling his beads. + +But, at breakfast, Sabine's eyes were dry again, and she seemed quite +calm. She, too, had held communion with herself, and her will had once +more resumed the mastery. This should be the last exhibition of +weakness--and the last feeling of weakness; and as she would suppress +the outward signs, so she would crush the inner emotion. All life looked +smiling. She was young, healthy and rich. She had inspired the devoted +love of a good and great man, whose position would give scope for her +ambitions, whose intellect was a source of pleasure and joy to her, and +whose tenderness would smooth all her path. What right had she to have +even a crumpled rose leaf! None in the world. + +She must get accustomed even to hearing of Michael, and perhaps to +meeting him again face to face, since Henry was never to know--or, at +least, not for years perhaps, when she had been so long happily married +that the knowledge would create no jar. And at all events, he need not +know--of the afterwards--that should remain forever locked in her heart. +Then she resolutely turned to lighter thoughts--her clothes in Paris, +the pleasure to see Moravia again--the excitement of her trip to +London, where she had never been, except to pass through that once long +ago. + +The Pere Anselme came to the station with her, and as he closed the door +of the reserved carriage she was in, he said: + +"Blessings be upon your head, my child. And, whatever comes, may the +good God direct you into peace." + +Then he turned upon his heel, his black eyes dim--for the autumn months +would be long with only Madame Imogen for companion, beside his +flock--and the sea. + +Michael had got back from Paris utterly disgusted with life, sick with +himself. Bitterly resentful against fate for creating such a tangled +skein, and dangling happiness in front of him only to snatch it away +again. He went up to Arranstoun and tried to play his part in the +rejoicings at his return. He opened the house, engaged a full staff of +servants, and filled it with guests. He shot with frantic eagerness for +one week, and then with indifference the next. Whatever he may have done +wrong in his life, his punishment had come. He had naturally an iron +will, and when he began to use it to calm his emotions, a better state +of things might set in, but for the time being he was just drifting, and +sorrow was his friend. + +His suite at Arranstoun--which he had never seen since the day after his +wedding, having gone up to London that very next night, and from there +made all his arrangements for the China trip--gave him a shock--he who +had nerves of steel--and into the chapel he loathed to go. His one +consolation was that Binko, now seven years old, had not transferred his +affection to Alexander Armstrong, with whom he had spent the time; but +after an hour or two had rapturously appeared to remember his master, +and now never, if he could help it, left his side. + +Michael took to reading books--no habit of his youth!--although his +shrewd mind had not left him in the usual plight of blank ignorance, +which is often the portion of a splendid, young athlete leaving Eton! +But now he studied subjects seriously, and the whys and wherefores of +things; and he grew rather to enjoy the evenings alone, between the +goings and comings of his parties, when, buried in a huge chair before +his log fire, with only Binko's snorts for company, he could pore over +some volume of interest. He studied his family records, too, getting all +sorts of interesting documents out of his muniment room. + +What a fierce, brutal lot they had always been! No wonder the chapel had +to be so gloriously filled--and then there came to his memory the one +little window which was still plain, and how he had told Sabine that he +supposed it had been left for him to garnish--as an expiatory +offering--the race being so full of rapine and sin! + +Should he put the gorgeous glass in now--it was time. But a glass +window could not prevent the punishment--since it had already fallen +upon him, nor even alleviate the suffering. + +He was staring straight in front of him at the picture of Mary, Queen of +Scots', landing--it had been painted at about 1850, when romantic +subjects of that sort were in vogue, and "the fellow in the blue +doublet" was said, by the artist, to represent the celebrated Arranstoun +of that time. The one who had killed a Moreton and stolen his wife. No +doubt that is why his grandfather had bought it. He thought it looked +very well over the secret door, and then he deliberately let himself +picture how it had once fallen forward, and all the circumstances which +had followed in consequence. He reconstructed every word he could +remember of his and Sabine's conversation that afternoon. He repictured +her innocent baby face--and from there on to the night of the wedding. +He reviewed all his emotions in the chapel, and the strange exaltation +which was upon him then--and the mad fire which awoke in his blood with +his first kiss or of her fresh young lips when the vows were said. Every +minute incident was burned into his memory until the cutting of the +cake--after that it seemed to be a chaos of wild passion, and moments of +extraordinary bliss. He suddenly could almost see her little head there +unresisting on his breast, all tears and terror at last hushed to rest +by his fond caresses--and then he started from his seat--the memory was +too terribly sweet. + +He had, of course, been the most frightful brute. Nothing could alter or +redeem that fact; but when sleep came to them at length he had believed +that he had made her forgive him, and that he could teach her to love +him and have no regrets. Then the agony to wake and find her gone! + +What made her go after all? How had she slipped from his arms without +awakening him? If he had only heard her when she was stealing from the +room, he could have reasoned with her, and even have again caught her +and kissed her into obedience--but he had slept on. + +He remembered all his emotions--rage at her daring to cross his will to +begin with, and then the deep wound to his self-love. That is what had +made him write the hard letter which forever put an end to their +reunion. + +"What a paltry, miserable, arrogant wretch I was then," he thought--"and +how pitifully uncontrolled." + +But all was now too late. + +The next morning's post brought him a letter from Henry Fordyce, in +which he told him he had been meaning to write to him ever since he had +returned from France more than a month ago, but had been too occupied. +The whole epistle breathed ecstatic happiness. He was utterly absorbed +in his lady love, it was plain to be seen, and since his mind seemed so +peaceful and joyous, it was evident she must reciprocate. Well, Henry +was worthy of her--but this in no way healed the hurt. Michael violently +tore up the letter and bounded from his bed, passion boiling in him +again. He wanted to slay something; he almost wished his friend had been +an enemy that he could have gone out and fought with him and reseized +his bride. What matter that she should be unwilling--the Arranstoun +brides had often been unwilling. She had been unwilling before, and he +had crushed her resistance, and even made her eventually show him some +acquiescence and content. He could certainly do it again, and with more +chance of success, since she was a woman now and not a child, and would +better understand emotions of love. + +He stood there shaking with passion. What should he do? What step should +he take? Then Binko, who had emerged from his basket, gave a tiny +half-bark--he wanted to express his sympathy and excitement. If his +beloved master was transported with rage, it was evidently the moment +for him to show some feeling also, and to go and seize by the throat man +or beast who had caused this tumult. + +His round, faithful, adoring eyes were upturned, and every fat wrinkle +quivered with love and readiness to obey the smallest command, while he +snorted and slobbered with emotion. Something about him touched Michael, +and made him stoop and seize him in his arms and roll the solid mass on +the bed in rough, loving appreciation. + +"You understand, old man!" he cried fondly. "You'd go for Henry or +anyone--or hold her for me"--And then the passion died out of him, as +the dog licked his hand. "But we have been brutes once too often, Binko, +and now we'll have to pay the price. She belongs to Henry, who's behaved +like a gentleman--not to us any more." + +So he rang for his valet and went to his bath quietly, and thus ended +the storm of that day. + +And Henry Fordyce in London was awaiting the arrival of his +well-beloved, who, with the Princess and Mr. Cloudwater, was due to be +at the Ritz Hotel that evening, when they would dine all together and +spend a time of delight. + +And far away in Brittany, the Pere Anselme read in his book of +meditations: + + It is when the sky is clearest that the heaviest bolt falls--it + would be well for all good Christians to be on the alert. + +And chancing to look from his cottage window, he perceived that a heavy +rain cloud had gathered over the Chateau of Heronac. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +In the morning before they left Heronac, Sabine's elderly maid, Simone, +came to her with the face she always wore when her speech might contain +any reference to the past. She had been with Sabine ever since the week +after her marriage, and was a widow and a Parisian, with a kind and +motherly heart. + +"Will madame take the blue despatch-box with her as usual?" she asked. + +Sabine hesitated for a second. She had never gone anywhere without it in +all those five years--but now everything was changed. It might be wiser +to leave it safely at Heronac. Then her eyes fell upon it, and a slight +shudder came over her of the kind which people describe as "a goose +walking over your grave." + +No, she could not leave it behind. + +"I will take it, Simone." + +"As madame wishes," and the maid went on her way. + + * * * * * + +When Sabine had reached London late on that evening in the June of 1907 +on her leaving Scotland she found, in response to the wire she had sent +him from Edinburgh, Mr. Parsons waiting for her at the station, his +astonishment as great as his perturbation. + +Her words had been few; her young mind had been firmly made up in the +train coming south. No one should ever know that there had been any +deviation from the original plan she had laid out for herself. With a +force of will marvellous in one of her tender years, she had controlled +her extreme emotion, and except that she looked very pale and seemed +very determined and quiet, there were no traces of the furnace through +which she had passed, in which had perished all her old conceptions of +existence, although as yet she realized nothing but that she wanted to +go away and to be free and forget her tremors, and presently join +Moravia. + +The marriage had been perfectly legal, as the certificate showed, and +Mr. Parsons, whatever his personal feelings about the matter were, knew +that he had not the smallest control over her--and was bound to hand +over to her her money to do with as she pleased. + +She merely told him the facts--that the marriage had been only an +arrangement to this end--Mr. Arranstoun having agreed before the +ceremony that this should be so--and that she wanted to engage a good +maid and go over to Paris as soon as possible, to see her friend the +Princess Torniloni. + +She had decided in the train that her methods with all who opposed her +must be as they used to be with Sister Jeanne--a statement of her +intentions, and then silence and no explanations. Sister Jeanne had +given up all argument with her in her last year at the convent! + +Mr. Parsons soon found that his words were falling upon deaf ears, and +were perfectly useless. She had cut herself adrift from her aunt and +uncle, whom she cordially disliked, leaving them a letter to tell them +that as she was now her own mistress, she never meant to trouble them or +Mr. Greenbank again, and she bid them adieu! + +"It is not as if they had ever been the least kind to me," she did +condescend to inform the lawyer. "They couldn't bear me really--Samuel, +although he was such a poor creature, was far the best of them. Uncle +was only wanting my money for him, and Aunt Jemima detested me, and only +had me with her because Papa left in his will that she had to, or lose +his legacy. You can't think what I've learned of their meannesses in the +month I've know them!" + +Thus Mr. Parsons had no further arguments to use--and felt that after +seeing her safe to his own hotel that night, and helping to engage a +suitable and responsible maid next day to travel with her, he could do +no more. + +The question of the name troubled him most, and he almost refused to +agree that she should be known as Mrs. Howard. + +"But I have told Mr. Arranstoun that I mean to be only that!" Sabine +exclaimed, "and he didn't mind, and"--here her violet eyes flashed--"I +_will not_ be anything else--so there!" + +Mr. Parsons shrugged his shoulders; she was impossible to deal with, and +as he himself was obliged to return to America in the following week, he +felt the only thing to do was to let her have her way. And so well did +he guard his client's secret then and afterwards, that even Simone, +though a shrewd Frenchwoman, had never known that her mistress' name was +not really Howard. At the time of her being engaged she was just leaving +an American lady from the far West whom Mr. Parsons knew of, and she was +delighted to come as maid and almost chaperon to this sweet, but wilful +young lady. + +So they had gone to Paris together, to order clothes--such a joyous +task--and to make herself forget those hours so terribly full of strange +emotion was all which occupied Sabine's mind at this period. Other +preoccupations came later; and it was then that she listened to Simone's +suggestion of going to San Francisco. The maid knew it well, and there +they spent several months in a quiet hotel. But they neither of them +cared much to remember those days, and nothing would have ever induced +Sabine to return thither. + + * * * * * + +She thought of these things now, as Simone left the room with the blue +case, but she put from her all disturbing remembrances on her journey to +Paris, and rushed into Moravia's arms, who was waiting for her in her +palatial apartment in the Avenue du Bois; they really loved one another, +these two women, as few sisters do. + +"Sabine, you darling!" the Princess cried, while Girolamo, kept up an +hour later to welcome his god-mamma, screamed with joy. + +"Now tell me everything, everything, pet!" Moravia demanded, as she +poured out the tea. "Has the divorce been settled? How soon will you be +free? When can you get married to this nice Englishman?" + +"I don't exactly know, Morri--the law is such a strange thing; however, +my--husband--has agreed and begun to take the necessary steps by +requesting me to go back to him, which I have refused to do." + +"You are looking perfectly splendid, dear. Having all that brain +stimulation evidently suits you. Wasn't the visit of Lord Fordyce +delightful in that romantic old castle? What did you do all the time? +and what was the friend like?--you did not tell me." + +Sabine stirred her tea. + +"He only stayed one night--he was quite a nice creature--Mr. +Arranstoun." + +"Of the castle?" The Princess was thrilled. "Why, darling, he must be +the one that they say is going to marry Daisy Van der Horn. He has got +some matrimonial tangle like you have, and when he is through with it, +Daisy is such dead nuts on him, they say she is certain to get him to +marry her! Do tell me exactly what he is like--I am not over fond of +Daisy, you know--but she is a splendid specimen of dash and vim." + +"He is good-looking, Morri--and he has got 'it.'" + +"I gathered that from all that I have heard of him here. Old Miss +Buskin, Daisy's aunt, you remember the old horror, says he is 'just too +sweet,' and 'that sassy'--you know her frightfully vulgar way of +speaking!--that even she is 'afraid to be alone in the room with him!'" + +"I dare say--he--looked like that--he ought to suit Daisy," and then +Sabine felt she had been spiteful and tried to divert matters by asking +where Mr. Cloudwater was. + +"Papa will be in in a moment. He has been dying for you to come back." +But the Princess had not done with Mr. Arranstoun yet. The Van der Horn +coterie had rung with his exploits on her return from Italy, and the +lurid picture had interested her deeply. + +"I do wish I had been at Heronac, Sabine, I would love to have seen that +young man. Daisy's aunt told me he was wild about her niece, and at one +moment she thought everything was settled--it must have been after he +came back from Brittany--and then he went off to England--probably he +does not like to speak out until he is free." + +Sabine felt that strange sensation she had experienced once before, of +heart sinking--and then, furious with herself, she mastered it and +became more determined than ever to carry out her intention of growing +accustomed to hearing of, and talking about Michael calmly. + +"You are sure to meet him in England," she said; "he is a great friend +of Henry's." + +But afterwards, when she was alone resting in her cosy room before +dinner, she deliberately pulled the blue despatch-box toward her and +looked at some of its contents, while tears gathered in her eyes, which +even the cynical thoughts which she was calling to her aid could not +quite suppress. Would things have been different if she had been able to +send Michael the letter which she had written to him in the September of +1907? The letter she had asked Mr. Parsons, who was again in London, to +have delivered to him, into his hand--and which came back to her in +Paris with the information from the old lawyer that Mr. Arranstoun had +left England for the wilds of China and Tibet, and might not get any +letters for more than a year. She remembered how that night she had +cried herself to sleep with misery, and with a growing regret at having +left Michael, and a pitiful longing just to be clasped once more in his +strong arms and comforted. Oh! the hateful wretched memories! To have +gone off at once to China like that proved his callousness and +indifference. Then, in spite of herself, her thoughts would review all +he had said to her on that morning in the garden. No--there had not been +one word of meaning, not even any suggestion of regret that she was +practically engaged to Henry. There had been some faint allusion to +people being fools--and brutes when young, but not that they would wish +to repair the faults which they had committed then. The whole thing was +plain--he had never really cared an atom for her. He had been only +affected by passion, even on her wedding night when he was pouring love +vows into her startled ears. + +"He was probably horribly surprised to come upon me at Heronac," her +thoughts now ran, "and then just sampled me--and went off as soon as he +could--back to Daisy in Paris!" + +Here chagrin began to rise, and soon dried all her tears. + +Yes! she hoped he would ask them to Arranstoun. She would certainly go, +and try to punish him as much as she could by showing her absorption in +Henry, and her complete indifference to himself. His vanity would be +wounded, since he had owned to being a dog in the manger. That would be +her only revenge--and what a paltry one! She felt that--and was ashamed +of herself; but all human beings are paltry when their self-love is +wounded and the passion of jealousy has them in its thrall, and Sabine +was no better nor worse than any other woman probably. Once more she +made resolutions, firm resolutions to think no more of Michael either +good or bad. It was perfectly sickening--the humiliation and degradation +of his so frequently coming into her mind. She pulled the despatch-box +nearer to her again, and in anger and contempt took from an envelope a +brown and withered spray of flowers, which had once been stephanotis, +and with forceful rage flung them into the fire. + +"There! that is done with--ridiculous, hateful sentiment, go!" + +And when she had shut the lid down with a snap, she rang for Simone and +began to dress for dinner, an extra flush burning in her cheeks. + +They crossed to England a week or so later, Lord Fordyce meeting them at +Charing Cross, and going with them to the Hotel. + +How dear he seemed, and how distinguished he looked! He was as ever a +soothing and uplifting influence, and before the evening was over, +Sabine felt calmed and happy, and sure she had done the right thing in +deciding to link her life with his. + +But it was not so with Moravia. Lord Fordyce had attracted her from the +moment she had first seen him, and as things do during periods of time, +unconsciously this feeling had simmered, and upon seeing him again had +boiled up; and alas! Moravia--beautiful young widow and Princess--found +herself extremely perturbed and excited, and undoubtedly becoming deeply +interested in the declared lover of her friend. Henry for her had every +charm. He was gentle and courteous, he was witty, and calm with that +well-bred consciousness which she adored in Englishmen, and which Sabine +had always said irritated her so. + +It was all too exasperating because, with her unerring feminine +instinct, she divined that Sabine really did not love him at all. If she +had felt that she did, Moravia could have borne it better, but as it was +fate was too hard, and when a week went by the Princess began actually +to feel unhappy. They were continually surrounded with friends, and at +every meal had the kind of parties that once she had taken such delight +in. People were just beginning to come back to London, and they had +amusing play dinners and what not, and all Henry's family, an +intelligent and aristocratic band, had showered attention upon them. The +Princess had very seldom been in London before--and quite understood +that, but for the one particular cherry being out of reach which spoilt +all her joy, she could have been, to use one of Miss Van der Horn's pet +expressions, "terribly amused." Sabine, as the days wore on, and she was +under Henry's influence again, lost her feeling of unrest and grew +happy, and heard Michael's name without a tremor. + +For Moravia dragged him into the conversation by saying how much she +would like to meet him after all she had heard of him in Paris. + +"I had a letter from him this morning," Lord Fordyce said. "He is +shooting in Norfolk at this moment, but comes up to town on Friday +night. I will ask him to dine then, Princess, and you shall see what you +think of him. He really is a very charming fellow, for all his +recklessness--and I expect half those enchanting tales they told you of +him are overdrawn." + +"Oh, I hope not!" Moravia laughed. "Do not disillusion me!" + +Next day, Henry told them that he had wired to Mr. Arranstoun, who had +wired back that he was very sorry he could not dine with them on Friday +and go to a play, so Lord Fordyce promised the Princess he would find +another occasion to present his friend. + +To him, Henry, this week in late October had been one of almost +unalloyed happiness--although he could have dispensed with the +continuous parties; still, he felt the Princess had to be amused, and +perhaps in a larger company he got more chance of speaking to his +beloved alone. + +The position of a man nearly always affects women--and the great and +unmistakable prestige, which it was plain to be seen Henry possessed, +had added to his charm in both Moravia and Sabine's eyes. It gratified +Sabine's vanity. She knew this, she was quite cognizant of the fact that +it pleased her. She felt glad and proud that she should occupy so +exalted a place in the world's eyes, as she would do as his wife. Surely +all the great duties and interests of that position would make life +very fair. It would be such peace and relief when the divorce +proceedings would come on and be finished with--a much less tiresome +affair in Scotland, she had heard, than in an English court. + +When Michael Arranstoun got Henry's wire asking him to dine, he laughed +bitterly. There was something so cynically entertaining in the idea of +the whole situation! He was being asked out to meet the wife whom he was +madly in love with, and was preparing to divorce for desertion, so that +she might marry the giver of the invitation! + +He was tempted to accept for a second or two, the desire to see her +again was growing almost more than he could bear; but at this period he +had still strength to refuse--and then, as the days went on, it seemed +that nothing gave him any pleasure, and that constantly and incessantly +his thoughts turned to one subject. If there had been no friendship or +honor mixed up in the thing, nothing would have been simpler than to sit +down and write to Henry telling him plainly that Sabine was his +wife--and that she must choose between them. But then he remembered +that, apart from all friendship, Sabine had already plainly expressed +her choice, and that he had absolutely no right to hold her in any way +since he had given her permission all those years ago to make what she +chose of her life. He had not yet instructed his lawyers to begin actual +proceedings--he was in a furnace of indecision and unrest. He would +like just somehow to get Sabine to Arranstoun first--then, if after that +she still plainly showed that she loved Henry, he would make himself go +ahead with the freedom scheme; but if he commenced actual proceedings +now, by no possibility could she come to Arranstoun--and this idea--to +get her to Arranstoun, began to be an obsession. Just in proportion as +his nature was wild and rebellious, so the mad longing grew and grew in +him to induce her to come once more into his house. + +And it would seem that fate at first intended to assist him in this, for +on the second of November the party went up North to stay with Rose +Forster, Henry's sister, at Ebbsworth for a great ball she was giving +for a newly married niece. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +For a day or two, Michael Arranstoun could not make up his mind, when he +heard of the Ebbsworth ball, as to whether or no he ought to go to it. +He had several conversations with Binko upon the subject, and finally +came to the conclusion that he would go. He had grown so desperately +unhappy by this time, that he cared no more whether it were right or +wrong--he must see Sabine. He had not believed that it could be possible +for him to suffer to such a degree about a woman. He _must_ satisfy +himself absolutely as to the fact of her loving Henry. + +Rose Forster had written, of course, to ask him to stay in the house for +it--holding out the bait that she had two absolutely charming Americans +coming. So Michael fell--and accepted, not without excusing himself to +Binko as he finished writing out his wire: + + Thousand thanks. I will come. + +"I am a coward, Binko--I ought to have the pluck to go off to Timbuctoo +and let Henry have a fair field--but I haven't and must be certain +first." + +They were all at tea in the library at Ebbsworth when he arrived, +having motored over from Arranstoun after lunch. + +Everyone was enchanted to see him, and greeted him with delight. He knew +almost the whole twenty of them, most of whom were old friends. + +The hostess took him over to the tea table, and sitting near it in a +ravishing tea-gown was Moravia. Rose Forster introduced him casually, +while she poured him out some tea. + +The library was a big room with one or two tall screens, and from behind +the furthest one there came a low, rippling laugh. The sound of it +maddened Michael, and his bold blue eyes blazed as he began to talk to +the Princess. His naturally easy manners made him able to carry on some +kind of a conversation, but his whole attention was fixed upon the +whereabouts of Sabine. She was with Henry, of course, behind that +Spanish leather screen. He hardly even noticed that Moravia was a very +pretty woman, most wonderfully dressed; but he felt she was a powerful +unit in his game of getting Sabine to Arranstoun, and so he endeavored +to make himself agreeable to her. + +Presently, in the general move, Lord Fordyce and his lady love emerged +with two other people they had been talking to, and Henry came up to +Michael with outstretched hand. + +He was awfully glad to see him, he said. Then this estranged husband +and wife were face to face. + +It was a wonderful moment for both of them, and with all the schooling +that each one had been through, it was extremely difficult to behave +naturally. Michael did not fight with himself, except to keep from all +outward expression; he knew he was simply overcome with emotion; but +Sabine continued to throw dust in her own eyes. The sudden wild beating +of her heart she put down to every other reason but the true one. It was +most wrong of Michael to have come to this party; but it was, of course, +done out of bravado to show her that she did not matter to him at +all--so with supreme sangfroid she greeted him casually, and then turned +eyes of tenderness to Henry. + +"You were going to show me the miniatures in the next room, Lord +Fordyce--were you not?" she said, sweetly, and took a step on toward the +door, leaving Michael with pain and rage for company. + +She had never allowed Henry to kiss her since that one occasion at +Heronac. It was not as it should be, she affirmed--until she were free +and really engaged to him, she prayed him to behave always only as a +friend. Lord Fordyce acquiesced, as he would have done to any penance +she chose to impose upon him, and in his secret thoughts rather +respected her for her decision; he was then more than delighted when she +put her slender hand upon his arm with possessive familiarity as soon +as they had reached the anteroom where the collection of miniatures were +kept; but he did not know that she was aware that Michael stood where he +could see them through the archway. + +"My darling!" and he lifted the white fingers to his lips. Sabine had +particularly beautiful hands, and they were his delight. She never wore +any rings--only her wedding-ring and the one great pearl Henry had +persuaded her to let him give her, but this was on her right hand. + +"It would mean nothing for me to have it on the left one--while that bar +of gold is there," she had told him. "I will only take it if you let me +have it as a gage of friendship," and as ever he agreed. He was so +passionately in love with her, there was nothing in the world he would +not have done or left undone to please her. His eye followed her always +with rapture, and her slightest wish was instantly obeyed. Sabine was +naturally an autocrat, and, but for the great generosity of her spirit, +might have made him suffer considerably, but she did not, being +consistently gentle and sweet. + +"My darling!" Henry repeated, in the little anteroom, while his fond +eyes devoured her face. "Sometimes I love you so it frightens me--My +God, if anything were to take you from me now, I do not think I could +bear it." + +Sabine shivered as she bent down to look at a case of Cosways in a show +table. + +"Nothing can take you from me, Henry--unless something goes wrong about +the divorce. My lawyer arrives in England to-day from America on purpose +to consult me and see what can be done to hasten matters. +My--husband--has not as yet started the proceedings it seems." + +Lord Fordyce's face paled. + +"Does that mean anything sinister, dearest?" he demanded, with a quiver +in his cultivated voice. "Sabine, you would tell me, would you not, if +there were anything to fear?" + +"I do not myself know what it means--I may have some news to-morrow--let +us forget about it to-night. Oh! I want to be happy just for to-night, +Henry!" and she held out her hand again pleadingly. + +"Indeed, you shall be, darling," and splendid and unselfish gentleman +that he was, he crushed down his anguish, and used all his clever brain +to divert and entertain her, and presently all the women went up to +dress for dinner and the ball, and Lord Fordyce found Michael in the +smoking-room. He had really a deep affection for him; he had known him +ever since he was an absolutely fearless, dare-devil little boy, the joy +and pride of his father, Henry's old friend, and in spite of the full +ten years' difference in their ages, they had ever been closest allies +until their break at Arranstoun, and then Michael's five years abroad +had made a gap, bridged over now since his return. Lord Fordyce felt +that Michael's intense vitality and radiating magnetism would be +refreshing in the depressed state into which his lady love's words had +thrown him, and he drew him over with him, and they sat down in two big +chairs apart from the rest of the festive groups--some playing bridge or +billiards. Michael was in no gentle temper, and Henry was the last +person he wished to talk to. He knew he ought not to have come, he knew +that he ought to tell Henry straight out and then go off before the +ball. He felt he was behaving like the most despicable coward; and yet, +if it were possible for Henry never to know that he, Michael, was +Sabine's husband, it would save his friend much pain. He was smarting +under Sabine's insolent dismissal of him, and burning with jealousy over +that witnessed caress, the violent passions of his race were surging up +and causing a devil of recklessness to show in his very handsome face. +Lord Fordyce saw that something had disturbed him. + +"What's up, Michael, old boy?" he asked. "I haven't seen you look so +like Black James since you got Violet Hatfield's letter and did not see +how you could get out of marrying her." + +Black James was a famous Arranstoun of the Court of James IV of +Scotland, whose exploits had been the terror and admiration of the whole +country, and who was even yet a byword for recklessness and savagery. + +Michael laughed. + +"Poor old Violet!" he said. "She will soon be bringing out her +daughter. I saw her the other day in London; she cut me dead!" + +"That was an escape!" and Henry lit a cigar. "However, as you know, a +year after weeping crocodile tears for poor Maurice, she married young +Layard of Balmayn. So all's well that ends well. She and Rose have never +spoken since the scene when Violet read in the _Scotsman_ that you had +got married!" + +"Don't let's talk of it!" returned Mr. Arranstoun. "The whole thought of +marriage and matrimony makes me sick!" + +"Are you in some fresh scrape?" Henry exclaimed. + +Michael put his head down doggedly, while his eyes flashed and he bit +off the end of his cigar. + +"Yes, the very devil of a hole--but this time no one can help me with +advice or even sympathy; I must get out of the tangle myself." + +"I am awfully sorry, old man." + +"It is my own fault, that is what hurts the most." + +"I do not feel particularly brilliant to-night either," Henry announced. +"The divorce proceedings have not apparently been commenced in +America--and nothing definite can be settled. I do not understand it +quite. I always thought that out there the woman could always get +matters manipulated for her, and get rid of the man when she wanted. +They are so very chivalrous to women, American men, whatever may be +their other sins. This one must be an absolute swine." + +"Yes--does Mrs. Howard feel it very much?" and Michael's deep voice +vibrated strangely. + +"She spoke of it just now. Her lawyer arrives from New York to-day to +consult with her what is best next to be done." + +"And she never told you a thing about the fellow, Henry? How very +strange of her, isn't it?" + +Lord Fordyce's fine, gray eyes gleamed. + +"Ah--Michael, if you had ever loved a woman, you would know that when +you really do, you desire to trust her to the uttermost. Sabine would +tell me and offered to at once if I wished, but--it all upsets her so--I +agree with her--it is much happier for both of us not to talk about it. +Only if there seems to be some hitch I will get her to tell me, so that +I may be able to help her. I have a fairly clear judgment generally--and +may see some points she and Mr. Parsons have neglected." + +Michael gazed into the fire--at this moment his worst enemy might have +pitied him. + +"Supposing anything were to go really wrong, Henry, it would cut you up +awfully, eh?" + +And if Lord Fordyce had not been so preoccupied with his own emotions, +he would have seen an over-anxiety on the face of his friend. + +"I believe it would just end my life, Michael," he answered, very low. +"I am not a boy, you know, to get over it and begin again." + +Mr. Arranstoun bounded from his chair. + +"Nothing must be allowed to go wrong, then, old man," he exclaimed +almost fiercely. "Don't you fret. But, by Jove, we will be late for +dinner!" and afraid to trust himself to say another word, he turned to +one of the groups near and at last got from the room. He did not go up +to his own, but on into the front hall, and so out into the night. A +brisk wind was blowing, and the moon, a young, frosty moon was bright. +He knew the place well, and paced a stone terrace undisturbed. It was on +the other side all was noise and bustle, where the large, built out +ball-room stood. + +An absolute decision must be come to. No more shilly-shallying--he had +thrown the dice and lost and must pay the stakes. He would ask her to +dance this night and then get speech with her alone--discuss what would +be best to do to save Henry, and then on the morrow go and begin +proceedings immediately. + +Meanwhile, up in Moravia's room, Sabine was seated upon the white +sheep's-skin rug before the fire; she was wildly excited and extremely +unhappy. + +The sight of Michael again had upset all her fancied indifference, and +shaken her poise; and apart from this, the situation was grotesque and +unseemly. She could no longer suffer it: she would tell Henry the whole +truth to-morrow and ask him what she must do. His love almost terrified +her. What awful responsibility lay in her hand? But civilization +commanded her to dress in her best, and go down and dance gaily and play +her part in the world. + +"Oh! what slaves we are, Morri!" she exclaimed, as though speaking her +thoughts aloud, for the remark had nothing to do with what the Princess +had said. + +Moravia, who was lying on the sofa not in the best of moods either, +answered gloomily: + +"Yes, slaves--or savages. The truth is, we are nearly all animals more +or less. Some are caught by wiles, and some are trapped, and some revel +in being captured--and a few--a few are like me--they get away as a bird +with a shot in its wing." + +Sabine was startled--what was agitating her friend? + +"But your troubles are over, Morri, darling--your wings are strong and +free!" + +"I said there was a shot in one of them." + +Sabine came and sat upon a stool beside her, and took and caressed her +hand. + +"Something has hurt you, dearest," she cooed, rubbing Moravia's arm with +her velvet cheek. "What is it?" + +"No, I am not hurt--I am only cynical. I despise our sex--most of us are +just primitive savages underneath at one time of our lives or +another--we adore the strong man who captures us in spite of all our +struggles!" + +"Morri!" + +"It is perfectly true! we all pass through it. In the beginning, when +Girolamo devoured me with kisses and raged with jealousy, and one day +almost beat me, I absolutely worshipped him; it was when he became +polite--and then yawned that my misery began. You will go through it, +Sabine, if you have not already done so. It seems we suffer all the +time, because when that is over then we learn to appreciate gentleness +and chivalry--and probably by then it is out of our reach." + +"I don't believe anything is out of our reach if we want it enough," and +Sabine closed her firm mouth. + +"Then I wonder what you want, Sabine--because I know you do not really +want Lord Fordyce--he represents chivalry--and I don't believe you are +at that stage yet, dearest." + +"What stage am I at, then, Morri?" + +"The one when you want a master--you have mastered everything yourself +up to now--but the moment will come to you--and then you will be +fortunate, perhaps, if fate keeps the man away!" + +Sabine's violet eyes grew black as night--and her little nostrils +quivered. + +"I know nothing of passions, Moravia," she cried, and threw out her +arms. "I have only dreamed of them--imagined them. I am afraid of +them--afraid to feel too much. Henry will be a haven of rest--the +moment--can never come to me." + +The Princess laughed a little bitterly. + +"Then let us dress, darling, and go down and outshine all these dear, +dowdy Englishwomen; and while you are sipping courtesy and gentleness +with Lord Fordyce, I shall try to quaff gloriously attractive, +aboriginal force with Mr. Arranstoun--but it would have been more +suitable to our characters could we have changed partners. Now, run +along!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Rose Forster had felt she must not lure Mr. Arranstoun over to Ebbsworth +on false pretences; he was a very much sought after young man, and since +his return from the wilds had been very difficult to secure, and +therefore it was her duty to give him one of her beautiful Americans at +dinner. The Princess was obviously the destiny of her husband with her +brother Henry upon the other side, so Michael must take in Mrs. Howard. +Mr. Arranstoun was one of the last two guests to assemble in the great +drawing-room where the party were collected, and did not hear of his +good fortune until one minute before dinner was announced. + +Sabine had perhaps never looked so well in her life. She had not her +father's nation's love of splendid jewels, and wore none of any kind. +Her French mother may have transmitted to her some wonderful strain of +tastes which from earliest youth had seemed to guide her into selecting +the most beautiful and becoming things without great knowledge. Her ugly +frocks at the Convent had been a penance, and ever since she had been +free and rich her clothes and all her belongings had been marvels of +distinction and simplicity. + +Moravia was, strictly speaking, far more beautiful, but Sabine, as Henry +had once said, had "it." + +Her manner was just what it ought to have been, as she placed her hand +upon her husband's arm--perfectly indifferent and gracious, and so they +went in to dinner. + +Michael had hardly hoped to have this chance and meant to make the most +of it. At dinner before a ball was not the place to have a serious +discussion about divorce, but was for lighter and more frivolous +conversation, and he felt his partner would be no unskilled adversary +with the foils. + +"So you have got this far north, Mrs. Howard," he began by saying, +making a slight pause over the name. "I wish I could persuade you to +come over the border to Arranstoun; it is only thirty-five miles from +here, and really merits your attention." + +"I have heard it is a most interesting place," Sabine returned, suddenly +experiencing the same wild delight in the game as she had done in the +garden at Heronac. "Have you ghosts there? We do not have such things in +France." + +"Yes, there are a number of ghosts--but the most persistent and +disconcerting one is a very young girl who nightly falls through a +secret door into my room." + +"How romantic! What is she like?" Two violet eyes looked up at him full +of that mischief which lies in the orbs of a kitten when it contemplates +some fearsome crime, and has to appear especially innocent. + +Michael thrilled. If she had that expression he was quite ready to +follow the lead. + +"She is perfectly enchanting--shall I tell you exactly what she +wears--and her every feature and the color of her eyes? The wraith so +materializes that I can describe it as accurately as I could describe +you sitting next me." + +"Please do." + +"She is about five foot seven tall--I mean she has grown as tall as +that--when she first appeared she could not have been taller than five +foot five." + +"How strange!" + +"Yes, isn't it--well, she has the most divine figure, quite slight and +yet not scraggy--you know the kind, I loathe them scraggy!" + +"I hate fat people." + +"But she isn't fat. I tell you she is too sweet. She has a round baby +face with the loveliest violet eyes in the world and such a skin!--like +a velvet rose petal!" His unabashed regard penetrated Sabine who smiled +slyly. + +"You don't mean to say you can see all these material things in a +ghost!" she cried with an enchanting air of incredulity. + +"Perfectly--I have not half finished yet. I have not told you about her +mouth--it is very curved and full and awfully red--and there is the most +adorable dimple up at one side of it, I am sure the people in the ghost +world that she meets must awfully want to kiss it." + +Sabine frowned. This was rather too intimate a description, but +bashfulness or diffidence she knew were not among Mr. Arranstoun's +qualities--or defects. + +"I think I am tired of hearing what this ghost looks like, I want to +know what does she do? Aren't you petrified with fright?" + +"Not in the least," Michael told her, "but you will just have to hear +about her hair--when it comes down it is like lovely bronze waves--and +her little feet, too--they are exquisite enough in shoes and stockings, +but without----!" + +Here he had the grace to look at his fish which was just being handed. + +A flush as pink as the pinkest rose came into Sabine's cheeks--he was +perfectly disgraceful and this was of course in shocking taste--but when +he glanced up again his attractive blue eyes had her late look of an +innocent kitten's in them and he said in an angelic tone: + +"She has not a fault, you may believe me, and she jumps up after the +fall into the room, and sits in one of my big chairs!" + +"Does she scold you for your sins as denizens of another sphere ought to +do?" Mrs. Howard was constrained to ask. + +"No--she is a little angel and always tells me that sins are forgiven." + +"Does she come often?" + +"Every single evening when I am alone--and--sometimes, she melts into my +arms and stays with me all night. Binko--Ah!--you remember Binko!"--for +Sabine's face had suddenly lit up--and at this passionate joy and +emotion flooded Michael's and they both stopped dead short in their talk +and Sabine took a quick breath that was almost a gasp. + +"I remember--nothing," she said very fast, "how should I? The girl whose +ghost you are speaking of ceased to exist five years ago--but +I--recognize the portrait--I knew her in life--and she told me about the +dog--he had fat paws and quantities of wrinkles, I think she said." + +"Yes, that is Binko!" and his master beamed rapturously. "He is the most +beautifully ugly bulldog in the world, but the poor old boy is getting +on, he is seven years old now. Would not you like to see him--again--I +mean from what you have heard!" + +"I love animals, especially dogs--but tell me, is he not afraid of the +ghost?" + +Michael drank some champagne, even under all his unhappiness he was +greatly enjoying himself. "Not at all, he loves her to come as much as I +do. She haunts--both my rooms--and the chapel, too--she wears a white +dress and has some stephanotis in her hair--and I am somehow compelled +to enact a whole scene with her--there before the altar with all the +candles blazing--and it seems as if I put a ring upon her hand--like the +one you are wearing there--she has lovely hands." + +The color began to die out of Sabine's cheeks and a strange look grew in +her eyes. The footmen were removing the fish plates, but she was +oblivious of that. Then the tones of Michael's voice changed and grew +deeper. + +"Soon all the vision fades into gloom, and the only thing I can see is +that she is tearing my ring off and throwing it away into the darkness." + +"And do you try to prevent her from doing this?" Sabine hardly spoke +above a whisper, while she absently refused an entree which was being +handed. To talk of ghosts and such like things had been easy enough, but +she had not bargained for him turning the conversation into one of +serious meaning. She could not, however, prevent herself from continuing +it, she had never been so interested in her life. + +"No--I cannot do that--there is an archangel standing between." + +At this moment Mrs. Howard's other neighbor claimed her attention; he +was a man to whom she had been talking at tea, and who was already +filled with admiration for her. + +Michael had time for breathing space, and to consider whether the +course he was pursuing was wisdom or not. That it was madly exciting, he +knew--but where was it leading to? What did she mean? Did she feel at +all? or was she one of the clever coquettes of her nation, a more +refined Daisy Van der Horn--just going to lead him on into showing his +emotion for her, and then going to punish and humiliate him? He must put +a firmer guard over himself, for propinquity and the night were exciting +influence, and the cruel fact remained that it was too late in any case. +Henry's words this afternoon had cast the die forever; +he--Michael--could not for any personal happiness be so hideously cruel +to his old friend. Better put a bullet through his own brain than that. +Whatever should develop on this night, and he meant to continue the +conversation as it should seem best to him, and if she fenced too +daringly with him to take the button off the foils--but whatever should +come of it it should not be allowed to alter his intention of to-morrow +instructing his lawyers in Edinburgh to begin divorce proceedings at +once. He was like a gambler who has lost his last stake, and who still +means to take what joy of life he can before the black to-morrow dawns. +So, in the ten minutes or so while Sabine had turned from him, he laid +his plans. He would see how much he could make her feel. He would dance +with her later and then say a final farewell. If she were hurt, too, he +must not care--she had made the barrier of her own free will. The +person who was blameless and should not suffer was Henry. Then he began +to look at Sabine furtively, and caught the outline of her sweet, +averted head. How irresistibly attractive she was! The exact type he +admired; not too intellectual-looking, just soft and round and babyish; +there was one little curl on her snowy _nuque_ that he longed to kiss +there and then. What a time she was talking to the other man! He would +not bear it! + +And Sabine, while she apparently listened to her neighbor, had not the +remotest idea of what he said. The whole of her being was thrilling with +some strange and powerful emotion, which almost made her feel faint--she +could not have swallowed a morsel of food, and simply played with her +fork. + +At the first possible pause, Michael addressed her again: + +"Since you knew the lady in life who is now my ghost--and she told you +of Binko--did she not say anything else about her visit to Arranstoun or +its master?" + +"Nothing--it was all apparently a blank horror, and she probably wanted +to forget it and him." + +"He made some kind of an impression upon her, then--good or bad, since +she wanted to forget him--" eagerly. + +Sabine admitted to herself that the umpires might have called "_touche_" +for this. + +"It would seem so," she allowed, with what she thought was generosity. + +"That is better than only creating indifference." + +"Yes--the indifference came later." + +"One expected that; but there was a time, you have inferred, when she +felt something. What was it? Can't you tell me?" + +Excitement was rising high now in both of them, and the grouse on their +plates remained almost untasted. + +"At first, she did not know herself, I think; but afterwards, when she +came to understand things, she felt resentment and hate, and it taught +her to appreciate chivalry and gentleness." + +Michael almost cried "_touche_!" aloud. + +"He was an awful brute--the owner of Arranstoun, I suppose?" + +"Yes--apparently--and one who broke a contract and rather glorified in +the fact." + +Michael laughed a little bitterly, as he answered: + +"All men are brutes when the moment favors them, and when a woman is +sufficiently attractive. We will admit that the owner of Arranstoun was +a brute." + +"He was a man who, I understand, lived only for himself and for his +personal gratification," Mrs. Howard told him. + +"Poor devil! He perhaps had not had much chance. You should be +charitable!" + +Sabine shrugged her shoulders in that engaging way she had. She had +hardly looked up again at Michael since the beginning, the exigencies of +the dinner-table being excuse enough for not turning her head; but his +eyes often devoured her fascinating, irregular profile to try and +discover her real meaning, but without success. + +"He was probably one of those people who are more or less like animals, +and just live because they are alive," Sabine went on. "Who are educated +because they happen to have been born in the upper classes--Who drink +and eat and sport and game because it gives their senses pleasure so to +do--but who see no further good in things." + +"A low wretch!" + +"Yes--more or less." + +Michael's eyes were flashing now--and she did peep at him, when he said: + +"But if the original of the ghost had stayed with him, she might have +been able to change this base view of life--she could have elevated +him." + +Sabine shook her head. + +"No, she was too young and too inexperienced, and he had broken all her +ideals, absolutely stunned and annihilated her whole vista of the +future. There was no other way but flight. She had to reconstruct her +soul alone." + +"You do not ask me what became of the owner of Arranstoun--or what he +did with his life." + +"I know he went to China--but the matter does not interest me. There he +probably continued to live and to kill other things--to seize what he +wanted and get some physical joy out of existence as usual." + +A look of pain now quenched the fire. + +"You are very cruel," he said. + +"The owner of Arranstoun was very cruel." + +"He knows it and is deeply repentant; but he was and is only a very +ordinary man." + +"No, a savage." + +"A savage then, if you will--and one dangerous to provoke too far;" the +fire blazed again. "And what do you suppose your friend learned in those +five years of men--after she had ceased to exist as the owner of +Arranstoun knew her?" + +Sabine laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. + +"Of men! That they are like children, desiring only the toys that are +out of reach, wasting their souls upon what they cannot obtain and +valuing not at all the gifts of the gods which are in their own +possession." + +"What a cynical view!" + +"Is it not a true one?" + +"Perhaps--in some cases--in mine certainly; only I have generally +managed to obtain what I wanted." + +"Then it may be a new experience for you to find there was one thing +which was out of your reach." + +He bent forward eagerly and asked, with a catch in his breath: + +"And that was----?" + +"The soul of a woman--shall we say--that something which no brute force +can touch." + +The fencing bout was over, the foils were laid aside, and grim earnest +was in Michael's voice now--modulated by civilization into that tone +which does not carry beyond one's neighbor at a dinner party. + +"Your soul--Sabine--that is the only thing which interests me, and I was +never able to touch your soul? That is not true, as you know--How dare +you say it to me. There was one moment----" + +"Hush," she whispered, growing very white. "You must not--you shall not +speak to me so. You had no right to come here. No right to talk to me at +all--it is traitorous--we are both traitors to Lord Fordyce, who is a +noble gentleman above suspecting us of such wiles." + +And at that moment, through a gap in the flowers of the long table, they +both saw Henry's gray eyes fixed upon them with a rather questioning +surprise--and then Mrs. Forster gave the signal to the ladies, and +Sabine with the others swept from the room, leaving Michael quivering +with pain and emotion. + +As for Sabine, she was trembling from head to foot. + +During dinner, Moravia had had an interesting conversation with Henry. +They had spoken of all sorts of things and eventually, toward the end of +it, of Sabine. + +"She is the strangest character, Lord Fordyce," Moravia said. "She is +more like a boy than a girl in some ways. She absolutely rules everyone. +When we were children, she and all the others used to call me the mother +in our games, but it was really Sabine who settled everything. She was +always the brigand captain. She got us into all the mischief of +clandestine feasts and other rule breaking--and all the Sisters simply +adored her, and the Mother Superior, too, and they used to let her off, +no matter what she did, with not half our punishments. She was the +wildest madcap you ever saw." + +Henry was, of course, deeply interested. + +"She is sufficiently grave and dignified now!" he responded in +admiration, his worshiping eyes turned in Sabine's direction; but it was +only when she moved in a certain way that he could see her, through the +flowers. Michael he saw plainly all the time, and perceived that he was +not boring himself. + +"Her character, then, would seem to have been rather like my friend's, +Michael Arranstoun's," he remarked. "They have both such an astonishing, +penetrating vitality, one would almost know when either of them was in +the room even if one could not see them." + +"He is awfully good-looking and attractive, your friend," Moravia +returned. "I have never seen such bold, devil-may-care blue eyes. I +suppose women adore him; I personally have got over my interest in that +sort of man. I much prefer courteous and more diffident creatures." + +Lord Fordyce smiled. + +"Yes, I believe women spoil Michael terribly, and he is perfectly +ruthless with them, too; but I understand that they like that sort of +thing." + +"Yes--most of them do. It is the simple demonstration of strength which +allures them. You see, man was meant to be strong," and Moravia laughed +softly, "wasn't he? He was not designed in the scheme of things to be a +soft, silky-voiced creature like Cranley Beaton, for instance--talking +gossip and handing tea-cups; he was just intended to be a fierce, great +hunter, rushing round killing his food and capturing his mate; and women +have remained such primitive unspoiled darlings, they can still be +dominated by these lovely qualities--when they have a chance to see +them. But, alas! half the men have become so awfully civilized, they +haven't a scrap of this delightful, aboriginal force left!" + +"I thought you said you personally preferred more diffident creatures," +and Lord Fordyce smiled whimsically. + +"So I do now--I said I had got over my interest in these savages--but, +of course, I liked them once, as we all do. It is one of our fatal +stages that we have to pass through, like snakes changing their skins; +and it makes many of us during the time lay up for ourselves all sorts +of regrets." + +Henry sought eagerly through the flowers his beloved's face. Had she, +too, passed through this stage--or was it to come? He asked himself this +question a little anxiously, and then he remembered the words of Pere +Anselme, and an unrest grew in his heart. The Princess saw that some +shadow had gathered upon his brow, and guessed, since she knew that his +thoughts in general turned that way, that it must be something to do +with Sabine--so she said: + +"Sabine and I have come through our happinesses, I trust, since Convent +days--and what we must hope for now is an Indian summer." + +Henry turned rather wistful eyes to her. + +"An Indian summer!" he exclaimed. "A peaceful, beautiful warmth after +the riotous joy of the real blazing June! Tell me about it?" + +Moravia sighed softly. + +"It is the land where the souls who have gone through the fire of pain +live in peace and quiet happiness, content to glow a little before the +frosts of age come to quench all passion and pleasure." + +Henry looked down at the grapes on his plate. + +"There is autumn afterwards," he reasoned, "which is full of richness +and glorious fruit. May we not look forward to that? But yet I know that +we all deceive ourselves and live in what may be only a fool's +paradise"--and then it was that he caught sight of his adored, as she +bent forward after her rebuke to Michael--and with a burst of feeling +in his controlled voice, he cried: "But who would forego his fool's +paradise!"--and then he took in the fact that some unusual current of +emotion must have been passing between the two--and his heart gave a +great bound of foreboding. + +For the keenness of his perceptions and his honesty of judgment made him +see that they were strangely suited to one another--his darling and his +friend--so strong and vital and young. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The ball was going splendidly and everyone seemed to be in wild form. +Sabine had danced with an excitement in her veins which she could not +control. Had there been no music or lights, she might just have felt +frightfully disturbed and unhappy, but as it was she was only conscious +of excitement. Lord Fordyce was above showing jealousy, and was content +that she seemed to be enjoying herself, and did not appear unwilling to +return to him quite frequently and walk about the room or sit down. + +"You are looking so supremely bewitching, my darling," he told her. "I +feel it is selfish of me to keep you away from the gay dances, you are +so young and sweet. I want you to enjoy yourself. Have you not danced +with Michael Arranstoun yet? I saw you were getting on with him +splendidly at dinner--he used to be a great dancer before he went off to +foreign parts." + +"No, I have not spoken to him even," she answered, with what +indifference she could. + +"What was he saying just before you left the dining-room which made you +look so haughty, dearest? He was not impertinent to you, I hope," and +Henry frowned a little at the thought. + +Sabine played with her fan--she was feeling inexpressibly mean. + +"No--not in the least--we were discussing someone we had both +known--long ago--she is dead now. I may have been a little annoyed at +what he said. Oh! is that a Scotch reel they are going to begin?" + +How glad she was of this diversion! She knew she had been capricious +with Lord Fordyce once or twice during the evening. She was greatly +perturbed. Oh! Why had she not had the courage to be her usual, honest +self, and have told him immediately at Heronac who her husband really +was. She was in a false position, ashamed of her deceit and surrounded +by a net-work of acted lies; and all through everything there was a +passionate longing to speak to Michael again, and to be near him once +more as at dinner. She had been conscious of everything that he did--of +whom he had danced with--Moravia for several times--and now she knew +that he was not in the ball-room. + +Nothing could exceed Henry's gentleness and goodness to her. He watched +her moods and put up with her caprices; that something unusual had +disturbed her he felt, but what it could be he was unable to guess. + +Sabine was aware that other women were envying her for the attention +showered upon her by this much sought after man. She tried to assure +herself how fortunate she was, and now got Henry to tell her once more +of things about his home. It was in the fairest part of Kent, and they +had often talked of the wonderful garden they would have in that fertile +country sheltered from all wind, and she knew that as soon as the +divorce was over, she and Moravia would go and stay there and look over +it all, and meet his mother, which meeting had not yet been arranged. +For some unknown reason nothing would induce her to go now. + +"I would rather see it for the first time, Henry, when I am engaged to +you. Now I should be an ordinary visitor--can't you understand?" + +And he had said that he could. It always thrilled him when she appeared +to take an interest in his home. + +They talked now about it--and how he would so love her to choose her own +rooms and have them arranged as she liked. Then he made pictures of +their life together there, and as he spoke her heart seemed to sink and +become heavier every moment, until at last she could bear no more. + +It was about two dances before supper, into which she had promised to go +with him. She would get away to her room now and be alone until then. +She must pull herself together and act with common sense. + +She told him that she had to settle her hair, which had become +disarranged, and saying he would wait for her he left her at the foot of +the smaller staircase, which led in a roundabout way to her and +Moravia's rooms. She had not wanted to pass through the great hall +where quantities of people were sitting out. She was just crossing the +corridor where the bachelors were lodged, when she almost ran into the +arms of Michael Arranstoun. + +He stopped short and apologized--and then he said: + +"I was coming to find you--there is something I must say to you. Mrs. +Forster's sitting-room is close here--will you come with me in there for +a moment; we can be alone." + +Sabine hesitated. She looked up at him, so tall and masterful and +astonishingly handsome--and then she obeyed him meekly, and he led the +way into a cosy little room unlit except for a glowing mass of coals. + +Michael turned on one electric lamp, and they both went over to the +chimney piece. + +Intense excitement and emotion filled them, but while he tried to search +her face with his passionate eyes, she looked into the fire with lowered +head. + +Then he spoke almost fiercely: + +"I cannot try to guess what caused you to pretend you did not recognize +me when we met at Heronac. That first false step has created all this +hopeless tangle. I will not judge you, but only blame my own weakness in +falling in with your plan." He clasped his hands together rather wildly. +"I was so stunned with surprise to see you, and overcome with the +knowledge that I had just given Henry my word of honor that I would not +interfere with him, or make love to the lady we were going to see--a +Mrs. Howard, who was married to a ruffian of an American husband shut up +in a madhouse or home for inebriates! My God! Lies from the very +beginning," and he gave a little laugh. "I had forgotten for the moment +that you had said you would call yourself by that name, but I remembered +it afterwards. You had not decided if you would be a widow--do you +recollect?--and you wanted a coronet for your handkerchiefs and +note-paper!" + +Sabine quivered under the lash of his scorn. + +"You maddened me that afternoon and at dinner, too," he went on, "and I +made resolutions and then broke them. But each time I did, I was filled +with remorse and contrition about Henry--and I am ashamed to confess it, +I was madly jealous, too. At last, I saw you in the garden together and +knew I ought to go at once." + +Here his voice broke a little, and he unclasped his hands. She raised +her head defiantly now, and flashed back at him: + +"I understand you had admitted to being a dog in the manger--you were +always an animal of sorts!" + +This told, he grew paler, and into his blue eyes there came a look of +pain. + +"You have a perfect right to say that to me if you choose; it is +probably true. I am a very strong man with tremendous passions which +have always been in my race; but I am not altogether a brute--because, +although I want you myself with more intensity than I have ever wanted +anything in my life--I am going to give you up to Henry. I have been +through hell--ever since I came from France. I have been weak, too, and +could not face the final wrench--but I am determined at last to do what +is straight, and to-morrow I will instruct my lawyers to begin +proceedings, and I suppose in two months or less you will be free." + +Sabine grew white and cold--her voice was hardly audible as she asked, +looking up at him: + +"What made you come here to-night?" + +He took a step nearer to her, while he reclasped his hands, as though he +feared that he might be tempted to touch her. + +"I came--because I wanted to see you so that I could not stay away--I +came because I wished to convince myself again that you loved Henry, so +that there could be no shadow of uncertainty in what I intended to do." + +"Well?" + +"I saw that, whether you love him or not, you desire that I shall think +that you do--and so at dinner I played for my own pleasure, the die +being cast, for something else had occurred before dinner which makes it +of no consequence to my decision whether you do or do not love him now. +It is Henry's great love for you which is the factor, because to part +from you he says would end his life. I could not commit the frightful +cruelty and dishonor of upsetting his plans, since you are originally to +blame for concealing the truth from him, and I am to blame for abetting +you. He trusts us both as you said." + +Sabine was trembling; her whole fabric of peace and happiness in the +future seemed to be falling to pieces like a pack of cards. + +She could only look at Michael with piteous violet eyes out of which all +the defiance had gone. Her slender figure swayed a little, and she +leaned against the mantelpiece. + +"My God!" he said, with a fresh clenching of his strong hands, "I would +not have believed I could have suffered so. As it is the last time we +shall ever talk to one another perhaps--I want you to know about +things--to hear it all. I would like to ask you again to forgive me for +long ago, but I suppose you feel that is past forgiveness?" His face had +a look of pleading; then he went on as she did not respond. "If you had +not left me, I would soon have made you forget that you had been angry, +as I thought indeed I had already done when you seemed to be contented +at least in my arms. But I would have caressed you into complete +forgetfulness in time--" here his voice vibrated with a deep note of +tenderness, which thrilled her--but yet she could not speak. + +"And what had begun just in mad passion would have grown into real love +between us--for we were made for one another Sabine--did you never +think of that?--just the same sort of natures--vigorous and all alive +and passionate, with the same joy of life in our blood. We would have +been supremely happy. But I was so frightfully arrogant in those days, +and when I spoke I was deadly ashamed of myself, and then furious with +you for daring to defy me and going after all. No one had ever disobeyed +me. But it was shame really which made me agree to join Latimer +Berkeley's expedition at once--the letter came by the early post. I +wanted to get right away and try to forget what I had done--and since +you had expressed your will, I just left you to stand by it." He leaned +upon the mantelpiece now and buried his face in his hands. + +"Oh, how wrong I was! Because you were so young I should have known that +you could not judge--and perhaps acted hastily in that sort of reaction +which always comes to one after passion--and I should have followed you +and brought you back." + +His tones shook with anguish now. "Well, I am punished--and so all that +is left for us to do is to say good-bye, my dear, and let us each go our +ways. You, at least, are not suffering as I am--because you do not +care." + +A little sob came in Sabine's throat, and she could not reply. She could +only take in the splendor of his figure and his grace as he leaned there +with dark bent head. And so, in a silence that seemed to throb and +thrill, they stood near together for a few moments with hearts at +breaking point. + +Then he controlled himself; he must go at once or he could no longer +answer for what he might do. She looked so sweet and sorrowful standing +close to his side, her violet eyes lowered so that their long lashes +made a shadow upon her dimpled cheek. + +Intense magnetic attraction drew them nearer and nearer. + +"Sabine!" he cried at last, hoarsely, as though the words were torn from +his tortured heart. "There is something about you which tells me that +you do not love Henry--that he has never made you feel--as I once made +you feel, and could make you feel again." He stretched out his arms in +pain. "The temptation is frightful--terrible--just to kiss you once +more--Darling--Oh! I cannot bear it. I must go!" and he took a step away +from her. + +But _the Moment_ for Sabine had come; she could resist its force no +more, every nerve in her whole body was quivering--every unknown, though +half-guessed emotion was stirring her soul. Her whole being seemed to be +convulsed in one concentrated desire. The reality had materialized the +echoes she had often dimly felt from that night of long ago. + +The wild passion which she had feared, and only that very evening had +repudiated as being an impossible experience for her, had now overtaken +her, and she could struggle no more. + +"Michael!" she whispered breathlessly, and held out her arms. + +With a cry of joy he clasped her to him in a fierce ecstasy. All the +pent-up feelings in both their souls let loose at last. + +It was a moment which caused time and place and all other things to be +forgotten in a glory as great as though eternity had come. + +"My darling, my darling!" he murmured, kissing her hair and brow and +eyelids. "Oh! the hideous cruelty that it is all too late and this must +be good-bye." + +But Sabine clung to him half sobbing, telling him she could not bear it; +he must not leave her now. And so they stood clasped together, trembling +with love and misery. + +"Darling," at last he besought her, while he unclasped her tender hands +from round his neck. "Darling, do not tempt me--it is frightful pain, +but I must keep my word. You had reason once to think that I was an +uncontrollable brute, but you shall not be able to do so any more. I +would never respect myself--or you--again if I let you make me faithless +to Henry now. It is cruel sorrow, but we cannot think of ourselves; you +know, we used too lightly for our own ends what should have been an +awfully sacred tie. Do you remember, Sabine, we swore to God to love and +be faithful forever--not meaning a word we said--and now we are +punished--" A great sob shook his deep voice. + +"Darling child--I love you madly, madly, Sabine--dear little one--but +you and I are just driftwood, floating down the tide--not like Henry, +who is a splendid fellow of great use to England. It is impossible that +his whole life should be ruined and sacrificed for our selfishness. +Darling--" and he paused and drew her to him again fondly. "It is our +own fault. We have let the situation develop through indecision and, I +expect, wounded vanity and weakness--and now we must have strength to +abide by our words. Henry isn't young like we are, you see. I honestly +believe it would knock him right out if anything went wrong." + +But Sabine clung to him still. She could think of nothing but that she +loved him, and that he was her mate and her husband, and why must she be +torn from his side for the happiness of any other man. + +She was in an agony of grief. And then suddenly back to her came the +words of Pere Anselme, heavy as the stroke of doom. Yes, she had taken +matters into her own hands and presumed to direct fate, and now all that +she could do was to be true to herself and to her word. Michael was +right; they must say good-bye. Henry must not be sacrificed. + +She raised her pitiful face from his breast where it was buried, and he +framed it in both his hands, and it would have been difficult to +recognize his bold eyes, so filled were they with tenderness and love. + +"Sabine," he commanded, fondly, "tell me that, after all, you have +forgiven me for making you stay that night. You know that we were +perfectly happy at the end of it, and it will be such pain for me to +have to remember all the rest of my life that you hold resentment. +Darling, if only you had stayed! Oh! I would have cherished you and +petted you," here he smoothed her hair, and murmured love words in her +ear with his wonderful charm, until Sabine felt that neither heaven nor +earth nor anything else mattered but only he. + +"Sweetheart," he went on, "we have got to part in a moment, but I just +must know if you love me a little in spite of everything. I _must know_, +my darling little girl." + +Then he held her to him again with immense tenderness, even in this +moment of agonized parting exulting in the intoxication of love he saw +that he had created in her eyes. There was no wile for the enslaving of +a woman's heart that he was not master of. The question as to whether he +ought to have employed them on this occasion is quite another matter, +and not for our consideration! He was doing what he thought was the only +honorable thing possible, giving up this glorious happiness, and he was +merely a strong, passionate human being after all. They were going to +part for the rest of their lives; he must make her tell him that she +loved him, he wanted to hear her say the words. + +"Sabine--little darling--answer me," he pleaded. + +She flung her arms round his neck, her whole body vibrating with +emotion. + +"I love you absolutely, Michael," she cried, "and I have always forgiven +you--I was mad to leave you, and I have longed often to go back. Oh! I +would sooner be dead than not to be your wife." + +They both were white now, the misery was so great. He knew he must go at +once, or he could never go at all. They were too racked with present +suffering to think what the future could contain, or of the growing +agony of the long weary days and how they could ever bear them. + +"My God, this is past endurance!" Michael exclaimed frantically. And +after a wild embrace, he almost flung her from him. Then, as she +staggered to a sofa she heard the door close, and knew that chapter of +her life was done. + +She sat there for a while gazing into the fire, too stunned with misery +even to think; but presently everything came to her with merciless +clearness. How small she had been all along! Instead of waiting until +she heard the truth, she had let a wretched paragraph in a newspaper +inflame her wounded vanity, so that she gave her promise to Henry there +and then--putting the rope round her neck with her own hands. And +afterwards, instead of being brave and true, wounded vanity again had +caused her to tighten the knot. She remembered Henry's words when he +had implored her to tell him what were the actual wishes of her +heart--and how she had cut off all retreat by her answer. She remembered +all his goodness to her and how she had accepted it as her due, making +him care for her more and more as each day came. + +"I have been a hopeless coward," she moaned, "a paltry, vain, hopeless +coward. I should have owned Michael was my husband immediately. Henry +could have got over it then, and now we might be happy--but it is too +late; there is nothing to be done----!" + +Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed brokenly. "Oh, my love, +my love--and I did not even now tell you all." + +The clock struck one--supper would be beginning and she must go down. If +Michael could bear this agony and behave like a gentleman, she also must +play her part with dignity. Henry would be waiting at the bottom of the +stairs. + +She went rapidly to her room and removed all traces of emotion, and then +she returned to the hall by the way she had come. + +"I was growing quite anxious, dearest," Lord Fordyce told her, as he +advanced to meet her when she came down the stairs. "I feared you were +ill, and was just coming to find you. Let us go straight in to supper +now--you look rather pale. I must take care of you and give you some +champagne," and he placed her hand in his arm fondly and led her along. + +[Illustration: "'He is often in some scrape--something must have +culminated to-night'"] + +They found chairs which had been kept for them at a centre table, near +their hostess and Moravia, and here they sat down. Michael was nowhere +in sight, but presently he came in with one of the house-party, and Mrs. +Forster beckoned them to her--and thus it happened that he was again at +Sabine's side. His eyes had a reckless, stony stare in them, and he +confined his conversation to the lady he had taken in. And Henry, who +was watching him, whispered to Sabine: + +"He is often in some scrape, Michael--something must have culminated +to-night. I have never seen him looking so haggard and pale." + +Sabine drank down her glass of champagne; she thought she could no +longer support the situation. She almost felt she hated Henry and his +devotion,--it was paralyzing her, suffocating her--crushing her life. +Michael never spoke to her--beyond a casual word--and at length they all +went back to the ball-room, where an extra was being played--Michael, +for a moment, standing by her side. Then a sudden madness came to them +as their eyes met, and he held out his arm. + +"This is my dance, I think, Mrs. Howard," he said with careless +sangfroid, and he whirled her away into the middle of the room. They +both were perfect dancers and never stopped in their wild career until +the music ended. It was a two-step, and all the young people clapped +for the band to go on. So once more they started with the throng. They +had not spoken a single word; it was a strange comfort to them just to +be together--half anguish, half bliss--but as the last bars died away, +Michael whispered in her ear: + +"I am going to say good-night to Rose. She is accustomed to my ways. I +have ordered my motor, and I am going home to-night--I cannot bear it +another single minute. If I stayed until to-morrow I should break my +word. I love you to absolute distraction--Good-bye," and without waiting +for her to answer he left her close to Henry and turning was lost in the +crowd. + +Suddenly the whole room reeled to Sabine, the lights danced in her eyes, +and a rushing sound came in her ears. She would have fallen forward only +Lord Fordyce caught her arm, while he cried, in solicitous +consternation: + +"My dearest, you have danced too much. You feel faint--let me take you +out of all this into the cool." + +But Sabine pulled herself together and assured him she was all +right--she had been giddy for a moment--he need not distress himself; +and as they walked into the conservatory she protested vehemently that +she had never been at so delightful a ball. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +A sobbing wind and a weeping rain beat round the walls of Arranstoun, +and the great gray turrets and towers made a grim picture against the +November sky, darkening toward late afternoon, as its master came +through the postern gate and across the lawn to his private rooms. He +had been tramping the moorland beyond the park without Binko or a gun, +his thoughts too tempestuous to bear with even them. For the letter to +Messrs. McDonald and Malden had gone, and the first act of the tragedy +of his freedom had been begun. + +It was a colossal price to pay for honor and friendship, but while they +had been brigands and robbers for hundreds of years, the Arranstouns had +not been dishonorable men, and had once or twice in their history done a +great and generous thing. + +Michael was not of the character which lauded itself, indeed he was +never introspective nor thought of himself at all. He was just strong +and living and breathing, his actions governed by an inherited sense of +the fitness of things for a gentleman's code, which, unless it was +swamped, as on one occasion it had been by violent passion, very seldom +led him wrong. + +Now he determined never to look ahead or picture the blankness of his +days as they must become with no hope of ever seeing Sabine. He supposed +vaguely that the pain would grow less in time. He should have to play a +lot of games, and take tremendous interest in his tenants and his +property and perhaps presently go into Parliament. And if all that +failed, he could make some expedition into the wilds again. He was too +healthy and well-balanced to have even in this moment of deep suffering +any morbid ideas. + +When he had changed his soaking garments, he came back into his +sitting-room and pulled Binko upon his knees. The dog and his fat +wrinkles seemed some kind of comfort to him. + +"She remembered you, Binko, old man," he said, caressing the creature's +ears. "She is the sweetest little darling in all the world. You would +have loved her soft brown hair and her round dimpled cheek. And she +loves your master, Binko, just as he loves her; she has forgiven him for +everything of long ago--and if she could, she would come back here, and +live with us and make us divinely happy--as we believed she was going to +do once when we were young." + +And then he thought suddenly of Henry's home--the stately Elizabethan +house amidst luxuriant, peaceful scenery--not grim and strong like +Arranstoun--though she preferred gaunt castles, evidently, since she +had bought Heronac for her own. But the thought of Henry's home and her +adorning it brought too intimate pictures to his imagination; they +galled him so that at last he could not bear it and started to his feet. + +It was possible to part from her and go away, but it was not possible to +contemplate calmly the fact of her being the wife of another man. +Material things came always more vividly to Michael than spiritual ones, +and the vision he had conjured up was one of Sabine encircled by Henry's +arms. This was unbearable--and before he was aware of it he found he was +clenching his fists in rage, and that Binko was sitting on his haunches, +blinking at him, with his head on one side in his endeavors to +understand. + +Michael pulled himself together and laughed bitterly aloud. + +"I must just never think of it, old man," he told the dog, "or I shall +go mad." + +Then he sat down again. With what poignant regret he looked back upon +his original going to China! If only he had stayed and gone after her, +that next day, and seized her again, and brought her back here to this +room--they would have had five years of happiness. She was sweeter now +far than she had been then, and he could have watched her developing, +instead of her coming to perfection all alone. That under these +circumstances she might never have acquired that polish of mind, and +strange dignity and reserve of manner which was one of her greatest +attractions, did not strike him--as it has been plainly said, he was not +given to analysis in his judgment of things. + +"I wish she had had a baby, Binko," he remarked, when once more seated +in his chair. "Then she would have been obliged to return at once of her +own accord." + +Binko grunted and slobbered his acquiescence and sympathy, with his wise +old fat head poked into his master's arm. + +"You are trying to tell me that as I had gone off to China, she couldn't +have done that in any case, you old scoundrel. And of course you are +right. But she did not try to, you know. There was no letter from her +among the hundreds which were waiting for me at Hong Kong--or here when +I got back. She could have sent me a cable, and I would have returned +like a shot from anywhere. But she did not want me then; she wanted to +be free--and now, when she does, her hands are already tied. The whole +cursed thing is her own fault, and that is what is the biggest pain, old +dog." + +Then his thoughts wandered back to their scene in Rose Forster's +sitting-room--that was pleasure indeed! And he leaned back in his big +chair and let himself dream. He could hear her words telling him that +she loved him and could feel her soft lips pressed in passion to his +own. + +"My God! I can't bear it," he cried at last, once more clenching his +hands. + + * * * * * + +And so it went on through days and nights of anguish, the aspects of the +case repeating themselves in endless persistence, until with all his +will and his strong health and love of sport and vigorous work, the +agony of desire for Sabine grew into an obsession. + +Whatever sins he had committed in his life, indeed his punishment had +come. + +Sabine, for her part, found the days not worth living. Nothing in life +or nature stays at a standstill; if stagnation sets in, then death +comes--and so it was that her emotions for Michael did not remain the +same, but grew and augmented more and more as the certainty that they +were parted for ever forced itself upon her brain. + +They had not been back in London a day when Mr. Parsons announced to her +that at last all was going well. Mr. Arranstoun had put the matter in +train and soon she would be free. And, shrewd American that he was, he +wondered why she should get so pale. The news did not appear to be such +a very great pleasure to her after all! Her greatest concern seemed to +be that he should arrange that there should be no notice of anything in +the papers. + +"I particularly do not wish Lord Fordyce ever to know that my name was +Arranstoun," she said. "I will pay anything if it is necessary to stop +reports--and if such things are possible to do in this country?" + +But Mr. Parsons could hold out no really encouraging hopes of this. No +details would probably be known, but that Michael Arranstoun had married +a Sabine Delburg and now divorced her would certainly be announced in +the Scotch journals, where the Arranstouns and their Castle were of such +interest to the public. + +"If only I had been called Mary Smith!" Sabine almost moaned. "If Lord +Fordyce sees this he must realize that, although he knows me as Sabine +Howard, I was probably Sabine Delburg." + +"I should think you had better inform his lordship yourself at once. +There is no disgrace in the matter. Arranstoun is a very splendid name," +Mr. Parsons ventured to remind her. + +But Sabine shut her firm mouth. Not until it became absolutely necessary +would she do this thing. + +Henry's company now had no longer power to soothe her; she found herself +crushing down sudden inclinations to be capricious to him or even +unkind--and then she would feel full of remorse and regret when she saw +the pain in his fond eyes. She was thankful that they were returning to +Paris, and then she meant to go straight to Heronac, telling him he must +see her no more until she was free. It was the month of the greatest +storms there; it would suit her exactly and it was her very own. She +need not act for only Madame Imogen and Pere Anselme. But when she +thought of this latter a sensation of discomfort came. How could she +read in peace with the dear old man, who was so keen and so subtle he +would certainly divine that all was not well? And ever his sentence +recurred to her: "Remember always, my daughter, that _le Bon Dieu_ +settles things for us mortals if we leave it all to Him, but if we take +the helm in the direction of our own affairs, it may be that He will let +circumstance draw us into rough waters." And then, that as she had taken +the helm she must abide by her word. Bitterness and regret were her +portion--in a far greater degree than after that other crisis of her +life, when its realities had come to her, and she knew she must bear +them alone. She had been too young then to understand half the +possibilities of mental pain, and also there was no finality about +anything--all might develop into sunshine again. Now she had the most +cruel torture of all, the knowledge that she herself by her wilfulness +and pride had pulled down the blinds and brought herself into darkness, +and that there was not anything to be done. + +Nothing could have been more unhappy than was the state of these two +young people in their separate homes. In the old days when she used to +try and banish the too lenient thoughts of Michael, she had always the +picture of his selfishness and violent passion to call up to her +aid--but that was blotted out now, and in its place there was the memory +that it was he, not she, who had behaved nobly and decided to sacrifice +all happiness to be true to his friend. Sometimes when she first got +back to Heronac she, too, allowed herself to dream of their good-bye, +and the cruel sweetness of that brief moment of bliss, and she would go +through strange thrills and quivers and stretch out her arms in the +firelight and whisper his name aloud--"Michael--my dear love!" + +She could not even bear the watching, affectionate eyes of Madame Imogen +and sent her to Paris on a month's holiday. The Pere Anselme had been +away when she arrived, at the deathbed of an old sister at Versailles, +so she was utterly alone in her grim castle, with only the waves. + +The once looked-for letters from Henry were a dreaded tie now. She would +have to answer them!--and as his grew more tender and loving, so hers +unconsciously became more cold, with a note of bitterness in them +sometimes of which she was unaware. + +And Henry, in Paris with Moravia, wondered and grieved, and grew sick at +heart as the days went on. He had let his political ambitions slide, and +lingered there as being nearer his adored one, instead of going home. + +Now love was playing his sad pranks with all of them, and the Princess +Torniloni was receiving her share. The constant companionship of Henry +had not made her feelings more calm. She was really in love with him +with all that was best and greatest in her sweet nature, and it was +changing her every idea. She was even getting a little vicarious +happiness out of being a sympathetic friend, and as he grew sad and +restless, so she became more gentle and tender, and watched over him +like a fond mother with a child. She would not look ahead or face the +fact that he had grown too dear; she was living her Indian summer, she +told herself, and would not see its end. + +"How awfully good you are to me, Princess," he told her one afternoon, +as they walked together in the bright frosty air about a week after +Sabine had left them. "I never have known so kind a woman. You seem to +think of gentle and sympathetic things to say before one even asks for +your sympathy. How greatly I misjudged your nation before I knew you and +Sabine!" + +"No, I don't think you did misjudge us in general," she replied. "Lots +of us are horrid when we are on the make, and those are the sorts you +generally meet in England. We would not go there, you see, if it was not +to get something. We can have everything material as good, if not +better, in our own country, only we can't get your repose, or your +atmosphere, and we are growing so much cleverer and richer every year +that we hate to think there is something we can't buy, and so we come +over to England and set to work to grab it from you!" + +"How delightful you are!" + +"I am only echoing Sabine, who has all the quaint ideas. In that pretty +young baby's head she thinks out evolution, and cause and effect, and +heredity, and every sort of deep tiresome thing!" + +"Have you heard from her to-day, Princess?" Henry's voice was a little +anxious. She had not written to him. + +"Yes." + +"She seems to be in rather a queer mood. What has caused it, do you +know, dear friend?" + +"I have not the slightest idea--it has puzzled me, too," and Moravia's +voice was perplexed. "Ever since the ball at your sister's she has been +changed in some way. Had you any quarrel or--jar, or difference of +opinion? Don't think I am asking from curiosity--I am really concerned." + +Henry's distinguished face grew pinched-looking; it cut like a knife to +have his vague unadmitted fears put into words. + +"We had no discussions of any kind. She was particularly sweet, and +spent nearly the whole evening with me, as you know. Is it something +about her husband, do you think, which is troubling her? But it cannot +be that, because in her letter of two days ago she said the proceedings +had been started and she would be free perhaps by Christmastime, as all +was being hurried through." + +Moravia gave an exclamation of surprise. + +"Sabine is certainly very strange. Can you believe it? She has never +mentioned the matter to me since we returned, and once when I spoke of +it, she put the subject aside. She did not 'wish to remember it,' she +said." + +"It is evidently that, then, and we must have patience with the dear +little girl. The husband must have been an unmitigated wretch to have +left such a deep scar upon her life." + +"But she never saw him from the day after she was married!" Moravia +exclaimed; and then pulled herself up short, glancing at Henry +furtively. What had Sabine told him? Probably no more than she had told +her--she felt the subject was dangerous ground, and it would be wiser to +avoid further discussion upon the matter. So she remarked casually: + +"No, after all, I do not believe it has anything to do with the husband; +it is just a mood. She has always had moods for years. I know she is +looking forward awfully to our all going to her for Christmas. Then you +will be able to clear away all your clouds." + +But this conversation left Henry very troubled, and Pere Anselme's words +about the cinders still being red kept recurring to him with increasing +pain. + +Sabine had been at Heronac for ten days when the old priest got back to +his flock. It was toward the end of November, and the weather was one +raging storm of rain and wind. The surf boiled round the base of the +Castle and the waves rose as giant foes ready to attack. It comforted +the mistress of it to stand upon the causeway bridge and get soaking +wet--or to sit in one of the mullioned windows of her great sitting-room +and watch the angry water thundering beneath. And here the Pere Anselme +found her on the morning after his return. + +She rose quickly in gladness to meet him, and they sat down together +again. + +She spoke her sympathy for this bereavement which had caused his +absence, but he said with grave peace: + +"She is well, my sister--a martyr in life, she has paid her debt. I have +no grief." + +So they talked about the garden, and of the fisher-folk, and their +winter needs. There had been a wreck of a fishing boat, and a wife and +children would be hungry but for the kindness of their Dame d'Heronac. + +Then there was a pause--not one of those calm, happy pauses of other +days, when each one dreamed, but a pause wrought with unease. The Cure's +old black eyes had a questioning expression, and then he asked: + +"And what is it, my daughter? Your heart is not at rest." + +But Sabine could not answer him. Her long-controlled anguish won the +day and, as once before, she burst into a passion of tears. + +The Pere Anselme did not seek to comfort her; he knew women well--she +would be calmer presently, and would tell him what her sorrow was. He +only murmured some words in Latin and looked out on the sea. + +Presently the sobs ceased and the Dame d'Heronac rose quickly and left +the room; and when she had mastered her emotion, she came back again. + +"My father," she said, sitting on a low stool at his knees, "I have been +very foolish and very wicked--but I cannot talk about it. Let us begin +to read." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Meanwhile the divorce affair went on apace. There was no defence, of +course, and Michael's lawyers were clever and his own influence was +great. So freedom would come before the end of term probably, if not +early in the New Year, and Henry felt he might begin to ask his beloved +one to name a date when he could call her his own, and endeavor to take +every shadow from her life. + +His letters all this month had been more than extra tender and devoted, +each one showing that his whole desire was only for Sabine's welfare, +and each one, as she read it, put a fresh stab into her heart and seemed +like an extra fetter in the chain binding her to him. + +She knew she was really the mainspring of his life and she could not, +did not, dare to face what might be the consequence of her parting from +him. Besides, the die was cast and she must have the courage to go +through with it. + +Mr. Parsons had let her know definitely that the bare fact of her name +would appear in the papers, and nothing more; and at first the thought +came to her that if it had made no impression upon Henry's memory, when +he must have read it originally in the notice of the marriage, why +should it strike him now? But this was too slender a thread to hang hope +upon, and it would be wiser and better for them all if when Lord Fordyce +came with Moravia and Girolamo and Mr. Cloudwater at Christmas, she told +him the whole truth. The dread of this augmented day by day, until it +became a nightmare and she had to use the whole force of her will to +keep even an outward semblance of calm. + +Thoughts of Michael she dismissed as well as she could, but she had +passionate longings to go and take out the blue enamel locket from her +despatch-box and look at it once more; she would not permit herself to +indulge in this weakness, though. Her whole days were ruled with +sternest discipline until she became quite thin, and the Pere Anselme +grew worried about her. + +A fortnight went by; it was growing near to Christmastime--but the +atmosphere of Heronac contained no peace, and one bleak afternoon the +old priest paced the long walk in the garden with knitted brows. He did +not feel altogether sure as to what was his duty. He was always on the +side of leaving things in the hand of the good God, but it might be that +he would be selected to be an instrument of fate, since he seemed the +only detached person with any authority in the affair. + +His Dame d'Heronac had tried hard to be natural and her old self, he +could see that, but her taste in their reading had been over much +directed to Heine, she having brought French translations of this poet's +works back with her from Paris. + +Twice also had she asked him to recite to her De Musset's "_La Nuit de +Decembre_." He did not consider these as satisfactory symptoms. There +was no question in his astute mind as to what was the general cause of +his beloved lady's unrest. The change in her had begun to take place +ever since the fatal visit of the two Englishmen. Herein lay matter for +thought. For the very morning before their arrival she had been +particularly bright and gay, telling him of her intended action in +making arrangements to free herself from her empty marriage bonds, and +apparently contemplating a new life with Lord Fordyce with satisfaction. +Pere Anselme was a great student of Voltaire and looked upon his tale of +"Zadig" as one from which much benefit could be derived. And now he +began to put the method of this citizen of Babylon into practice, never +having heard of the immortal Sherlock Holmes. + +The end of his cogitations directed upon this principle brought him two +concrete facts. + +Number one: That Sabine had been deeply affected by the presence of the +second Englishman--the handsome and vital young man--and number two: +That she was now certainly regretting that she was going to obtain her +divorce. Further use of Zadig's deductive method produced the +conviction that, as an abstract young man would be equally out of reach +were she still bound to her husband--or married to Lord Fordyce--and +could only be obtained were she divorced--some other reason for her +distaste and evident depression about this latter state coming to her +must be looked for, and could only be found in the supposition that the +Seigneur of Arranstoun might be himself her husband! Why, then, this +mystery? Why had not he and she told the truth? Zadig's counsel could +not help him to unravel this point, and he continued to pace the walk +with impatient sighs. + +He was even more of a gentleman than of a priest, and therefore forbore +to question Sabine directly, but that afternoon, with the intention of +directing her mind into facing eventualities, he had talked of Lord +Fordyce, and what would be the duties of her future position as his +wife. Sabine replied without enthusiasm in her tones, while her words +gave a picture of all that any woman's heart could desire: + +"He is a very fine character, it would seem," the Pere Anselme said. +"And he loves you with a deep devotion." + +Sabine clasped her hands suddenly, as though the thought gave her +physical pain. + +"He loves me too much, Father; no woman should be loved like that; it +fills her with fear." + +"Fear of what?" + +"Fear of failing to come up to the standard of his ideal of her--fear +of breaking his heart." + +"I told him in the beginning it were wiser to be certain all cinders +were cold before embarking upon fresh ties," Pere Anselme remarked +meditatively, "and he assured me that he would ascertain facts, and +whether or no you felt he could make you happy." + +"And he did," Sabine's voice was strained. "And I told him that he +could--if he would help me to forget--and I gave him my word and let +him--kiss me, Father--so I am bound to him irrevocably, as you can see." + +"It would seem so." + +There was a pause, and then the priest got up and held his thin brown +hands to the blaze, his eyes averted from her while he spoke. + +"You must look to the end, my daughter, and ask yourself whether or no +you will be strong enough to play your part in the years which are +coming--since, from what I can judge, the embers are not yet cold. +Temptation will arm for you with increasing strength. What then?" + +"I do--not know," Sabine whispered hardly aloud. + +"It will be necessary to be quite sure, my daughter, before you again +make vows." + +And then he turned the conversation abruptly, which was his way when he +intended what he had said to sink deeply into the heart of his listener. + +But just as he was leaving after tea he drew the heavy curtains back +from one of the great windows. All was inky darkness, and the roaring of +the sea with its breakers foaming beneath them, came up like the +menacing voices of an angry crowd. + +"The good God can calm even this rough water," he said. "It would be +well that you ask for guidance, my child, and when it has come to you, +hesitate no more." + +Then, making his sign of blessing, he rapidly strode to the door, +leaving the Dame d'Heronac crouched upon the velvet window-seat, peering +out upon the waves. + +And Michael, numb with misery and regret, was deciding to go to Paris +for Christmas. The memories at Arranstoun he could not endure. + +The great suffering that he was going through was having some effect +upon his mind, refining him in all ways, forcing him to think and to +reason out all problems of life. The great dreams which used to come to +him sometimes when in Kashmire during solitary hours of watching for +sport returned. He would surely do something vast with his life--when +this awful pain should be past. What, he could not decide--but something +which would take him out of himself. He did not think he could stay in +England just at first after Sabine should have married Henry--the +chances of running across her would be too great, since they both knew +the same people. + +Henry would read about the divorce and the name "Sabine Delburg" in the +paper, too, and would then know everything, even if Sabine had not +already informed him. But he almost thought she must have done so, +because he had had no word lately from his old friend. Thus the time +went on for all of them, and none but the priest felt any premonition +that Christmas would certainly bring a climax in all of their fates. + +Lord Fordyce had hardly ever spent this season away from his mother, who +was a very old lady now, and deeply devoted to him; but the imperative +desire to be near his adored overcame any other feeling, and he, with +the Princess and her son and father, was due to arrive at Heronac on the +day before Christmas Eve. + +He ran across Michael at the Ritz the night before he left Paris. They +were both dining with parties, and nodded across the room, and then +afterwards in the hall had a few words. + +"To-morrow I am going down to Heronac, Michael," Henry said. "Where do +you intend to spend the festive season? Here, I suppose?" + +"Yes, it is as good as anywhere," Michael returned. "I felt I could not +stand the whole thing at Arranstoun. I have been away from England so +long, I must get used to these old anniversaries again gradually. Here +one is free." + +They looked into each other's faces and Henry noticed that Michael had +not quite got his old exuberant expression of the vivid joy of life--he +was paler and even a little haggard, if so splendid a creature could +look that! + +"I suppose he has been going the pace over here," Henry thought, and +wondered why Michael's manner should be a little constrained. Then they +shook hands with their usual cordiality and said good-night. And Michael +prepared to go on to a supper party, with a feeling of wild rebellion in +his heart. The sight of his old friend and the knowledge that he was on +his way to join Sabine drove him almost mad again. + +"I suppose they will be formally engaged in the New Year. I wonder how +my little girl is bearing it--if she is half as miserable as I am, God +comfort her," he cried to himself; and then he felt he could not stand +Miss Daisy Van der Horn, and getting into his motor he told the +chauffeur to drive into the Bois instead of to the supper. + +Here among the dark trees he could think. It was all perfectly +impossible, and no happiness could possibly come to Henry either--unless +he succeeded in consoling Sabine when she should be his wife. And this +was perhaps the bitterest thought of all--that she should ever be +consoled as Henry's wife! + +Then the extreme strangeness of Henry's still being in ignorance of his +and Sabine's relations struck him. She had evidently not yet had the +courage to tell the truth, and so the thing would come as a shock--and +what would happen then? Who could say? In any case, Henry could not +feel he had not come up to the scratch. Would Sabine ever tell Henry the +whole story? He felt sure she would not. But how could things be +expected to go on with the years? It was all unthinkable now that it had +come so close. + +It was about five o'clock on the next afternoon that the Princess and +her party arrived at Heronac. Sabine was waiting for them in the great +hall, and greeted them with feverish delight, but Henry's worshipping +eyes took in at once the fact that she was greatly changed. She made a +tremendous fuss over Girolamo, for whom a most sumptuous tea had been +prepared in his own nurseries, and Henry thought how sweet she was with +children and how divinely happy they would be in the future, when they +had some of their own! + +But what had altered his beloved? Her face had lost its baby outline, it +seemed, and her violet eyes were full of deeper shadows than even they +had been in the first few days of their acquaintance at Carlsbad. He +must find all this out for himself directly they could be alone. + +This chance, however, did not seem likely to be vouchsafed to him, for +on the plea of having such heaps to talk over with Moravia, Sabine +accompanied that lady to her room and did not appear again until they +were all assembled in the big _salon_ for dinner, where Madame Imogen, +who had returned the day before, was doing her best to add to the gaiety +of the party by her jolly remarks. + +The lady of Heronac had hardly been able to control herself as she +waited for her guests' arrival and felt that to rush at Girolamo would +be her only hope. For that morning the post had brought the news that +the divorce would be granted by the end of January, and she would be +free! She had felt very faint as she had read Mr. Parsons' letter. No +matter how one might be expecting an axe to fall, when it does, the +shock must seem immense. + +Sabine lay there and moaned in her bed. Then over her crept a fierce +resentment against Henry. Why should she be sacrificed to him? He was +forty years old, and had lived his life; and she was young, and had not +yet really begun to enjoy her's. How would she be able to bear it; or to +act even complaisance when every fiber of her being was turning in mad +passion and desire to Michael, her love? + +Then her sense of justice resumed its sway. Henry at least was not to +blame--no one was to blame but her own self. And as she had proudly +agreed with Michael that every one must come up to the scratch, she must +fulfil her part. There was no use in being dramatic and deciding upon a +certain course as being a noble and disinterested one, and then in not +having the pluck to carry it through. She had prayed for guidance +indeed, and no light had come, beyond the feeling that she must stick +to her word. + +The report of the case would be in the Scotch papers, and Michael +Arranstoun being such a person of consequence it would probably be just +announced in the English journals, too, and Henry would see it. She +could delay no longer; he must be told the truth in the next few days. + +The sight of his kind, distinguished face shining with love had unnerved +her. She must tell him with all seeming indifference, and then close the +scene as quickly as she could. + +While Sabine and Moravia talked in the latter's room, Moravia was full +of discomfort and anxiety. Her much loved friend appeared so strange. +She seemed to speak feverishly, as it were, to be trying to keep the +conversation upon the lightest subjects; and when Moravia asked her how +the divorce was going, she put the question aside and said that they +would speak of tiresome things like that when Christmas was over! + +"But," explained the Princess, "I don't call it at all tiresome. It +means your freedom, Sabine, and then you will be able to marry Henry. He +absolutely worships the ground you tread on, and if anything had gone +wrong, I think it would have simply killed him quite." + +"Yes, I know," returned Sabine. "That thought is with me day and night." + +"What do you mean, darling?" + +"I mean that Henry's love frightens me, Morri. How shall I ever be able +to live up to being the ideal creature he thinks that I am?" and Sabine +gave a forced laugh. + +"You are not a bad sort, you know," the Princess told her. "A man would +be very hard to please if he was not quite satisfied with you!" + +Moravia's own pain about the whole thing never clouded her sense of +justice. Henry's love for her friend had been manifest from the very +beginning, so she had never had any illusions or doubt about it; and if +she had been so weak and foolish as to allow herself to fall in love +with him, she must bear it and not be mean. Sabine certainly was not to +blame. + +"I--hope I shall satisfy him," Sabine sighed; "but I do not know. What +does satisfy a man? Tell me, Moravia--you who understand them." + +"It depends upon the man," and the Princess looked thoughtful. "I know +now that if I had been clever I could have satisfied Girolamo for ages, +by appearing to be always just a little out of his reach, so as to keep +his hunting instinct alive. When a man is a very strong, passionate +creature like that, it is the only way--make him scheme to get you to be +lovely to him, make him wait, and never be sure if you are going to let +him kiss you or no; and if you adore him really yourself, _hide it_, and +let him feel always that he has to use his wits and all his charms to +keep you. Oh! I could have been so happy if I had known these things in +time!" + +"Yes, Morri, but Henry is not--like that. How must I satisfy him?" + +Moravia lay back in her chair and discoursed meditatively. + +"It is only the very noblest natures in men that women can be perfectly +frank with, and as good and kind and tender as they feel they would like +to be. Lord Fordyce is one of these. You could load him with devotion +and love, and he would never take advantage of you; but just to satisfy +him, Sabine, you need only be you, I expect!" and she looked fondly at +her friend. "Though, darling, I tell you, if you were too nice to him, +even he might turn upon you some day, probably. No woman can afford to +be really devoted to a man; they can't help being mean, and immediately +thinking the poor thing is of less consequence to please than some +capricious cat they cannot obtain!" + +Sabine nodded, and Moravia went on: "But you need not fear! Henry will +adore you always--because you really don't care!" and she sighed a +little bitterly at the contrariness of things. + +"It is good not to care, then?" + +"Yes, I think so; for happiness in a home, the woman ought always to +love a little the less." + +"Well, we shall be very happy, then," and Sabine echoed Moravia's sigh, +but much more bitterly. + +"You will be good to him, dearest?" Moravia asked rather anxiously. "He +is the grandest character I have ever met in my life." + +"Yes, I will be good to him." + +"Just think!" Moravia, who had domestic instincts, now went on, in spite +of the personal anguish she was feeling about her own love for Henry. +"You may have the happiness soon of being the mother of a lovely little +son like Girolamo!" and she gave a great sigh as she looked into the +fire. + +Sabine stiffened all over, and an expression of horrified repugnance and +dismay grew in her face, and she drew her breath in with a little gasp. +She had not faced this thought before, and she could not bear it now, +and got up quickly, saying she must go off and dress or she would be +late for dinner. + +Moravia looked after her, full of wonder and foreboding for Henry. What +happiness could he expect if the woman he adored felt like that! + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Christmas Eve was particularly frosty and bright. The sun poured through +Sabine's windows high up when she woke, but her heart was heavy as lead. +She had not had a single word alone with Henry the night before, and +knew the dreaded _tete-a-tete_ must come. She did not set herself to +tell him who her husband was on this particular morning--about that she +must be guided by events--but she could not make barriers between them, +and must allow him to come to her sitting-room. He did, about half-past +ten o'clock, his face full of radiance and love. She had always +steadfastly refused to take any presents from him, but he had had the +most beautiful flowers sent from Paris for her, and they had just +arrived. She was taking them out of their box herself. This made a +pretext for her to express delighted thanks, and for a little she played +her part so well that all Henry's doubts were set at rest, and he told +himself that he had been imaginative and foolish to think that anything +was changed in her. + +He helped her to put all the lovely blooms into vases, so happy to +think they should give her pleasure. And all the while he talked to her +lovingly and soothingly, until Sabine could have screamed aloud, so full +of remorse and constraint she felt. If he would only be disagreeable or +unkind! + +At last, among the giant violets, they came upon one bunch of white +ones. These she took and separated, and, making them into two, she stuck +one into her belt and gave Henry the other to put into his coat. + +"Won't you fasten them in for me, dearest?" he said, his whole +countenance full of passionate love. + +She came nearer, and with hasty fingers put the flowers into his +buttonhole. + +The temptation was too great for Henry. He put his arm round her and +drew her to his side, while he bent and kissed her sweet red mouth. + +She did not resist him or start away, but she grew white as death, and +he was conscious that, as he clasped her close, a repressed shudder ran +through her whole frame. + +With a little cry of anguish he put her from him, and searched with +miserable eyes for some message in her face. But her lids were lowered +and her lips were quivering with some pain. + +"My darling, what is it? Sabine, you shrank from me! What does it mean?" + +"It means--nothing, Henry." And the poor child tried to smile. "Only +that I am very foolish and silly, and I do not believe I like +caresses--much." And then, to make things sound more light, she went on: +"You see, I have had so few of them in my life. You must be patient with +me until I learn to--understand." + +Of course he would be patient, he assured her, and asked her to forgive +him if he had been brusque, his refined voice full of adoring +contrition. He caught at any gossamer thread to stifle the obvious +thought that if she loved him even ever so little he would not have to +accustom her to caresses; she would long ago have been willing to learn +all of their meanings in his arms!--and this was only the second time +during their acquaintance that she had even let him kiss her! + +But of her own free will she now came and leaned her head against his +shoulder. + +"Henry," she pleaded, "I am not really as I know you think I am--a +gentle and loving woman. There are all sorts of fierce sides in my +character which you have not an idea of, and I am only beginning to +guess at them myself. I do not know that I shall ever be able to make +you happy. I am sure I shall not unless you will be contented with very +little." + +"The smallest tip of your finger is more precious to me than all the +world, darling!" he protested with heat. "I will be patient. I will be +anything you wish. I will not even touch you again until you give me +leave. Oh! I adore you so--Sabine, I will bear anything if only you do +not mean that you want to send me away." + +The anguish and fond worship in his face wrung her heart. She started +from him and then, returning, held out her arms, while she cried with a +pitiful gasp, almost as of a sob in her throat: + +"Yes--take me and kiss me--kiss me until I don't feel!--I mean until I +feel--Henry, you said you would make me forget!" + +He encircled her with his arm and led her to a sofa, murmuring every vow +of passionate love; and here he sat by her and kissed her and caressed +her to his heart's content, while she remained apparently passive, but +still as white as the violets in her dress, and inwardly she could +hardly keep from screaming, the torture of it was so great. At last she +could bear no more, but disengaging herself from his arms she slipped on +to the floor, and there sat upon a low footstool, with her back to the +fire, shivering as though with icy cold. + +Lord Fordyce's instincts were too fine not to realize something of the +meaning of this scene. Although not greatly learned in the ways of +women, he had kissed them often before in his life, and none had +received his caresses like that. But since she did not repulse him, he +must not despair. She perhaps was, as she said, unused to fond +dalliance, and he must be more controlled, and wait. So with an inward +sense of pain and chill in his heart, he set himself to divert her +otherwise, talking of the books which they both loved, and so at last, +when Nicholas announced that dejeuner was ready, some color and +animation had come back to her face. + +But when she was alone in her room she looked out of the high window and +passionately threw up her arms. + +"I cannot bear it again!" she wailed fiercely. "I feel an utterly +degraded wretch." + +At breakfast the Pere Anselme watched her intently while he kept his +aloof air. He felt that something extra had disturbed her. He was to +stay in the house with them on Christmas night, because it was so cold +for him to return to his home after dinner, and Sabine could not +possibly spare him; she assured him he must be with them at every meal. +His wit was so apt, and with Madame Imogen's aid he kept the ball +rolling as merrily as he could. But he, no less than Henry, was +conscious that all was not well. + +And afterwards, as he went towards the village, he communed with +himself, his kind heart torn with the deep-seated look of resignation in +the eyes of his Dame d'Heronac. + +"She is too young to be made to suffer it," he said, half aloud. "The +good God cannot ask so much, as a price for wilfulness; and if this man +has grown as distasteful to her as her face seems to suggest, nothing +but misery could come from their dual life." It was all very cruel to +the Englishman, no doubt, but where was the wisdom of letting two people +suffer? Surely it was better to let only one pay the stakes, and if this +thing went on, both would have equal unhappiness, and be tied together +as two animals in a menagerie cage. + +No gentleman should accept such a sacrifice. If the Lord Fordyce did not +realize for himself that something had changed things, it must be that +he, Gaston d'Heronac, the Pere Anselme, must intervene. It might be very +fine and noble to stick to one's word, but it became quixotic if to do +so could only bring misery to oneself and one's mate! + +The good priest stalked on to his _presbytere_, and then to his church, +to see that all should be ready for _reveillon_ that night, and he was +returning to the chateau to tea when he met Henry taking a walk. + +After lunch Sabine had gone off with Moravia to Girolamo's nurseries, +and Lord Fordyce had felt he must go out and get some air. Mr. +Cloudwater had started with Madame Imogen in the motor on a commission +to their little town directly they had all left the dining-room. Thus +Henry was alone. + +He greeted the Pere Anselme gladly. The old priest's cultivated mind was +to him always a source of delight. + +So he turned back and walked with him into the garden and along by the +sea wall, instead of across the causeway and to the house. This was the +doing of the Pere Anselme, for he felt now might be his time. + +Henry had been growing more and more troubled while he had been out by +himself. He could not disguise the fact that there was some great change +in Sabine, and now his anxious mood craved sympathy and counsel from +this her great friend. + +"Madame Howard does not look quite well, Father," he remarked, after +they had pulled some modern philosophies to pieces, and there had been a +pause. "She is so nervous--what is the cause of it, do you know? Perhaps +this place does not suit her in the winter. It is so very cold." + +"Yes, it is cold--but that is not the reason." And the Pere Anselme drew +closer his old black cloak. "There are other and stronger causes for the +state in which we find the Dame Sabine." + +Henry peered into his face anxiously in the gray light--it was four +o'clock, the day would soon be gone. He knew that these words contained +ominous meaning, and his voice was rather unsteady as he asked: + +"What are the reasons, Father? Please tell me if you are at liberty to +do so. To me the welfare of this dear lady is all that matters in life." + +The Cure of Heronac cleared his throat, and then he said gently: + +"I spoke once before to you about the cinders and as to whether or no +they were still red. That is what causes her to be restless--she has +found that they are yet alight." + +Lord Fordyce was a brave man, but he grew very pale. It seemed that +suddenly all the fears which his heart had sheltered, though would not +own as facts, were rising before him like giant skeletons, concrete and +distinct. + +"But the divorce is going well!" he exclaimed a little passionately, his +hurt was so great. "She told me so last night; she will be free some +time in January, and will then be my wife." + +His happiness should not be torn from him without a desperate fight. + +The priest's voice was very sad as he answered: + +"That is so. She will, no doubt, be ready to marry you whenever you ask +it is for you to demand of yourself whether you will accept her +sacrifice." + +"Sacrifice! I would never dream of any sacrifice. It is unthinkable, +Father!" + +Anguish now distraught Henry's soul; he stopped in his walk and looked +full at the priest, his fine, distinguished face working with suffering. +The Pere Anselme thought to himself that he would have done very well +for the model of a martyr of old. It distressed him deeply to see his +pain and to know that there would be more to come. + +"Her happiness is all that I care for--surely you know this--but what +has caused this change? Has she seen her husband again?--I----" Here +Henry stopped, a sense of stupefaction set in. What could it all mean? + +"We have never spoken upon the matter," the priest answered him. "I +cannot say, but I think--yes, she has certainly come under his +influence again. Have you never searched in your mind, Monsieur, to ask +yourself who this husband could be?" + +"No--! How should I have done so? I have never been in America in my +life." And then Henry's haggard eyes caught a look in the old priest's +face. "My God!" he cried, agony in his voice, "you would suggest that it +is some one I may know!" + +"I suggest nothing, Monsieur. I make my own deductions from events. Will +you not do the same?" + +Henry covered his eyes with his hands. It seemed as though reason were +slipping from him; and then, like a flash of lightning which cleared his +brain, the reality struck him. + +"It is Michael Arranstoun," he said with a moan. + +"We know nothing for certain," proclaimed the Pere Anselme. "But the +alteration began from this young man's visit. That is why I warned you +to well ascertain the truth of her feelings before going further. I +would have saved you pain." + +Henry staggered to the wall of the summer-house and leant there. His +face was ashen-gray in the afternoon's dying light. + +"Oh, how hopelessly blind I have been!" + +The priest unclasped his tightly-locked hands; his old eyes were full of +pity as he answered: + +"We may both have made mistakes. You are more aware of the circumstances +than I am. The Seigneur of Arranstoun is the only man she has seen here +besides yourself. You perhaps know whom she met in England, or Paris?" + +"It is Michael Arranstoun," Henry said in a voice strangled and altered +with suffering. "I see every link in the chain--but, O God! why have +they deceived me? What can it mean? What hideous, fiendish cruelty! And +Michael was my old friend." + +A wild rage and resentment convulsed him. He only felt that he wished to +kill both these traitors, who had tricked him and destroyed his beliefs +and his happiness. Ghastly thoughts that there might be further +disclosures of more shameful deceptions to come shook him. He was +trembling with passion--and then the priest said something in his grave, +quiet voice which almost stunned him. + +"Has it been done in cruelty, my son? You must examine well the facts +before you assert that. You must not forget that whoever the husband may +be, he has consented to divorce her, and she is now going to give +herself to you. Is that cruelty, my son? Or is it a fine keeping to a +given word? It looks to me more like a noble sacrifice, unless the +Seigneur of Arranstoun was aware before he ever came here that Madame +Howard was his wife." + +Lord Fordyce controlled himself. This thing must be thought out. + +"No, Michael could not have known it," after a moment or two he +averred. "He even laughed over the name when I told it to him, and said +he had a scapegrace cousin out in Arizona and wondered if the husband +could be the same----" + +Then further recollections came with a frightful stab of anguish, +crushing all passion and anger and leaving only a sensation of pain, for +he remembered that his friend had given him his word of honor that he +would not interfere with him in his love-making--and, indeed, would help +him in every way he could, even to lending him Arranstoun for the +honeymoon! That letter of his, too, when he had gone from Heronac, +saying in it casually he hoped that he, Henry, thought that he had +played the game!--Yes, it was all perfectly plain. Michael had come +there in all innocence, and could not be blamed. He remembered numbers +of things unnoticed at the time--his own talk with Sabine when he had +discussed Michael's marriage--and this brought him up suddenly to her +side of the question. Why, in heaven's name, had she not told him the +truth at once? Why had she pretended not to recognize Michael? For, +however Michael might have started, since he, Henry, was not looking at +him, Sabine, whose face he had been gazing into all the while, had shown +no faintest recognition of him. What a superb actress she must be!--or +perhaps, having only seen him those two times in her life, for those +short moments, she really did not recognize him then. The whole thing +was so staggering in its hideous tragedy his brain almost refused to +think; but he said this last thought aloud, and the priest's strange +sudden silence struck even his numbed sense. + +"She had only seen him for such a little while--they parted immediately +after the wedding; it was merely an empty ceremony, you know. Why, then, +should she have had any haunting memories of him?" + +The Pere Anselme avoided answering this question by asking another. + +"You knew that the Seigneur of Arranstoun was wedded, it would seem. How +was that?" + +Then Henry told him the outline of Michael's story, and the cruel irony +of fate in having made him himself leave the house before seeing Sabine +struck them both. + +"What can her reasons have been for not telling me all this time, +Father?" the unhappy man asked at last, in a hopeless voice. "Can you in +any way guess?" + +The Pere Anselme mused for a moment. + +"I have my own thoughts upon the matter, my son. We who live lonely +lives very close to Nature get into the way of studying things. I have, +as I told you, made some deductions, but, if you will permit me to give +you some counsel, I would tell you to go back to the chateau now, with +no _parti pris_, and seek her immediately, and get her to tell you the +whole truth yourself. Of what good for you and me to speculate, since we +neither of us know all the facts?--or even, if our suppositions are +correct----" Then, as Lord Fordyce hesitated, he continued: "The time +has passed for reticence. There should be no more avoiding of feared +subjects. Go, go, my son, and discover the entire truth." + +"And what then!" The cry came from Henry's agonized heart. But the +priest answered gravely: + +"That is in the hand of God. My duty is done." + +And so they returned in silence, the Pere Anselme praying fervently to +himself. And when they reached the house, Lord Fordyce stumbled up the +stone stairs heavily and knocked at the door of Sabine's sitting-room. +He had seen Moravia at her window in the inner building, and knew that +this woman who held his life in her hand would be alone. + +Then, in response to a gentle "_Entrez_" he opened the door and went in. + + * * * * * + +Sabine had been sitting at her writing-table, an open blue despatch-box +at her side. She was at the far end of the great apartment, so that +Henry had some way to go toward her in the gloom, as, but for the large +lamp near her and the blazing wood fire at each end, there was no light +in the vast room. She rose to meet him, a gentle smile upon her face, +and then, when he came close to her, she realized that something had +happened, and suddenly put her hand out to steady herself upon the back +of a chair. + +"Henry--what is it?" she said, in a very low voice. "Come, let us go +over there and sit down," and she drew him to the same sofa where that +very morning they had sat when she had let him kiss her. This thought +was extra pain. + +He was so very quiet he frightened her, and his gray eyes looked into +hers with such a world of despair, but no reproach. + +"Sabine," he commanded in a voice out of which had vanished all life and +hope, "tell me the whole story, my dear love." + +She clasped her hands convulsively--so the dreaded moment had come! +There would be no use in making any excuses or protestations, her duty +now was to master herself and collect her words to tell him the truth. +The utter misery in his noble face wrung her heart, so that her voice +trembled too much to speak at first; then she controlled it and began. + + * * * * * + +So all was told at last. + +Then Henry took her two cold hands again and drew her up with him as he +rose. + +"Sabine," he said with deep emotion, his heart at breaking point, but +all thought of himself put aside in the supreme unselfishness of his +worship; "Sabine, to-morrow I will prove to you what true love means. +But now, my dearest, I will say good-night. I think I must go to my +room for a little; this has been a tremendous shock." + +He bent and kissed her forehead with reverence and blessing, as her +father might have done, and, hiding all further emotion, he walked +steadily from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +When Lord Fordyce found himself alone, it felt as if life itself must +leave him, the agony of pain was so great, the fiendish irony of +circumstances. It almost seemed that each time he had intended to do a +good thing, he had been punished. He had left Arranstoun for the best +motive, and so had not seen Sabine and thus saved himself from future +pain; he had taken Michael to Heronac out of kindly friendship, and this +had robbed him of his happiness. But, awful as the discovery was now, it +was not half so terrible as it would have been if the truth had only +come to him later, when Sabine had become his wife. He must be thankful +for that. Things had always been inevitable; it was plain to be +understood that she had loved Michael all along, and nothing he +personally could have done with all his devotion could have changed this +fact. He ought to have known that it was hopeless and that he was only +living in a fool's paradise. Never once had he seen the light in her +eyes for himself which sprang there even at the mention of Michael's +name. What was this tremendous power this man possessed to so deeply +affect women, to so greatly charm every one? Was it just "it," as the +Princess had said? Anguish now fell upon Henry; there was no consolation +anywhere to be found. + +He went over again all the details of the story he had heard, and +himself filled up the links in the chain. How brutal it was of Michael +to have induced her to stay--even if she remained of her own accord--and +then the frightful thoughtless recklessness of letting her go off +afterwards just because he was angry! Wild fury blazed up against his +old friend. The poor darling little girl to be left to suffer all alone! +Oh! how tender and passionately devoted he would have been under the +same circumstances. Would Michael ever make her happy or take proper +care of her? He paced his room, his mind racked with pain. Every single +turn of events came back to him, and his own incredible blindness. How +had he been so unseeing? How, to begin with, had he not recalled the +name of Sabine as being the one he had read long ago in the paper as +that of the girl whom Michael had gone through the ceremony of marriage +with? It had faded completely from his memory. Everything seemed to have +combined to lead him on to predestined disaster and misery--even in +Sabine's and Michael's combining to keep the matter secret from him not +to cause him pain--all had augmented the suffering now. If--but there +was no good in contemplating ifs--what he had to do was to think clearly +as to what would be the wisest course to secure his darling's +happiness. That must be his first consideration. After that, he must +face his own cruel fate with what courage he could command. + +Her happiness could only come through the divorce proceedings being +stopped at once, and in her being free to go back to the man whom she +loved. Then the aspect that Michael had been willing to do a really fine +thing for the sake of friendship struck him--perhaps he was worthy of +Sabine, after all; and they were young and absolutely suited to one +another. No, the wickedness would have been if he, whose youth had +passed, had claimed her and come between. He was only now going through +the same agony his friend must have done, and he had a stronger motive +to help him, in the wish to secure the joy of this adored woman, whereas +Michael knew he was condemning her to sorrow as well as himself, and had +been strong enough to do it simply from honor and friendship. No, he had +no right to think of him as brutal or not fine; and now it was for him, +Henry, to bring back happiness to his darling and to his old friend. + +He sat down in a chair beside the fire and set himself to think. To have +to take some decided course came as a relief. He would go out into the +village and telegraph to Michael to come to Heronac at once. He was in +Paris, staying at the Ritz, he knew; he could be there to-morrow--on +Christmas Day! Surely that was well, when peace and good-will towards +men should be over all the earth--and he, Henry, would meet him at the +house of the Pere Anselme and explain all to him, and then take him back +to Sabine. He would not see her again until then. + +He found telegraph forms on his writing-table and rapidly wrote out his +message. "Come immediately by first train, meet me at house of Pere +Anselme, a matter of gravest importance to you and Sabine," and he +signed it "Fordyce." Then he firmly controlled himself and went off with +it into the night. + +The cold air struck his face and confronted him with its fierceness; the +wind was getting up; to-morrow the waves would again be rough. + +The village was not far away, and he soon had reached his goal and sent +the telegram. Then he stopped at the _presbytere_. He must speak once +more to the priest. The Pere Anselme led him in to his bare little +parlor and drew him to the warm china stove. It was only two hours since +they had parted, but Lord Fordyce looked like an old man. + +"I have come to tell you, my Father," he said, "that I know all of the +story now, and it is terrible enough; but I want you to help me to +secure her happiness. Michael Arranstoun is her husband, as you +supposed, and she loves him." The old priest nodded his head +comprehendingly, and Henry went on. "They only parted to save me pain. +It was a tremendous sacrifice which, of course, I cannot accept. So now +I have sent for him, and I want you to let me meet him here at your +house, and explain everything to him to-morrow before he sees her. I +hope, if he gets my telegram in time, he will catch the train from Paris +at midnight to-night; it gets in about nine in the morning. Then they +can be happy on Christmas Day." + +"You have done nobly, my son," and the Pere Anselme lifted his hand in +blessing. "It is very merciful that this has been in time. You will not +be permitted to suffer beyond your strength since you have done well. +The good God is beyond all things, just. My home is at your service--And +how is she, our dear Dame d'Heronac? Does she know that her husband will +come?" + +"She knows nothing. I told her we should settle all questions to-morrow. +She offered to keep her word to me, the dear child." + +"And she told you the whole story? She had the courage? Yes? That was +fine of her, because she has never spoken of all her sorrows directly, +even to me." + +"She told me everything, Father. There are no secrets any more; and her +story is a pitiful one, because she was so young." + +"It is possible it has been well for them," the priest said +meditatively, looking into the glowing fire in the stove whose door he +had opened. "They were too young and undisciplined at first for +happiness--they have come through so much suffering now they will cling +to each other and joy and not let it slip from their hands. She is more +suited to such a one as the Seigneur of Arranstoun than any other--there +is a vigor of youth in her which must find expression. And it is +something to be of noble blood, after all." Here he turned and looked +contemplatively at Henry. "It makes one able to surmount anguish and +remain a gentleman with manners, even at such a cruel crisis as this. +You have all my deep understanding and sympathy, my son. I, too, have +passed that way, and know your pain. But consolation will come. I find +it here in the cure of souls--you will find it in your England, leading +your fellow countrymen to finer ends. It is not for all of us, the glory +of the dawn or the meridian, but we can all secure a sunset of blessed +peace if we will." And then, as Henry wrung his thin old hand, he +muttered with tenderness, "Good-night, and _pax vobiscum_," while a +moisture glistened in his keen black eyes. + +And when the door was closed upon his guest he turned back into his +little room, this thought going on with him: + +"A great gentleman--though my Dame d'Heronac will be happier with the +fierce one. Youth must have its day, and all is well." + +But Henry, striding in the dark with the sound of the rushing sea for +company, found no consolation. + +When he got back to the chateau and was going up the chief staircase to +his room, he met Moravia coming down. She had just left Sabine and knew +the outlines of what had happened. Her astonishment and distress had +been great, but underneath, as she was only human, there was some sense +of personal upliftment; she could try to comfort the disconsolate lover +at least. Sabine had given her to understand that nothing was finally +settled between herself and Henry, but Moravia felt there could be only +one end; she knew he was too unselfish to hold Sabine for an instant, +once he understood that she would rather be free; so it was in the +character of fond friend that she put out her hand and grasped his in +silent sympathy. + +"Henry," she whispered with tears in her usually merry eyes, "my heart +is breaking for you. Can I do anything?" + +He would rather that she had not spoken of his sorrow at all, being a +singularly reticent person, but he was touched by the love and +solicitude in her face, and took and held her white fingers. + +"You are always so good to me. But there is nothing to be done." + +She slid her other hand into his arm and drew him on into the little +sitting-room which was always set apart for her, close to her room. + +"I am going to take care of you for the next hour, anyway--you look +frozen," she told him. "I shall make you sit in the big chair by the +fire while I give you something to drink. It is only half-past six." + +Then with fond severity she pushed him into a comfortable _bergere_, +and, leaving him, gave an order to her maid in the next room to bring +some brandy. But before it came Moravia went back again, and drawing a +low stool sat down almost at Henry's feet. + +The fire and her gentleness were soothing to him, as he lay there +huddled in the chair. The physical reaction was upon him from the shock +and he felt almost as though he were going to faint. + +Moravia watched him anxiously for some time without speaking--he was so +very pale. Then she got up quickly when the maid brought in the tray, +and pouring him out some brandy she brought it over and knelt down by +his side. + +"Drink this," she commanded kindly. "I shall not stir until you do." + +Henry took the glass with nerveless fingers and gulped down the liquid +as he was bid, but although she took the glass from him she did not get +off her knees; indeed, when she had pushed it on to the tray near her, +she came closer still and laid her cheek against his coat, taking his +right hand and chafing it between her own to bring back some life into +him, while she kept up a murmured flow of sweet sympathy--as one would +talk to an unhappy child. + +Henry was not actually listening to her, but the warmth and the great +vibrations of love coming from her began to affect him unconsciously, +so that he slipped his arm round her and drew her to his side. + +"Henry," she whispered with a little gasp in her breath, "I would take +all pain away from you, dear, if I could, but I can't do anything, only +just pet and love you into feeling better. After all, everything passes +in time. I thought I should never get over the death of my husband, +Girolamo, and now I don't care a bit--in fact, I only care about you and +want to make you less unhappy." + +The Princess thoroughly believed in La Rochefoucauld's maxim with the +advice that people were more likely to take to a new passion when still +agitated by the rests of the old one than if they were completely cured. +She intended, now that she was released from all honor to her friend, to +do her very uttermost to draw Henry to herself, and thought it much +wiser to begin to strike when the iron was hot. + +Henry did not answer her; he merely pressed her hand, while he thought +how un-English, her action was, and how very kind. She was certainly the +dearest woman he had ever met--beyond Sabine. + +Moravia was not at all discouraged, but continued to rub his hands, +first one and then the other, while he remained passive under her touch. + +"Sabine is perfectly crushed with all this," she went on. "I have just +left her. She does not know what you mean to do, but I am sure I can +guess. You mean to give her back to Mr. Arranstoun--and it will be much +better. She has always been in love with him, I believe, and would never +have agreed to try to arrange for a divorce if she had not been awfully +jealous about Daisy Van der Horn. I remember now telling her quite +innocently of the reports about them in Paris before we went to England, +and now that I come to think of it, I noticed she was rather spiteful +over it at the time." + +Henry did not answer, so she continued, in a frank, matter-of-fact way: + +"You can imagine what a strange character Sabine has when I tell you, in +all these years of our intimate friendship she never has told me a word +of her story until just now. She was keeping it all in to herself--I +can't think why." + +Henry did speak at last, but his words came slowly. "She wanted to +forget, poor little girl, and that was the best way to bury it all out +of sight." + +"There you are quite wrong," returned Moravia, now seated upon her +footstool again, very close, with her elbows propped on Henry's knees, +while she still held his hands and intermittently caressed them with her +cheek. "That is the way to keep hurts burning and paining forever, +fostering them all in the dark--it is much better to speak about them +and let the sun get in on them and take all their sorrow away. That is +why I would not let you be by yourself now, dear friend, as I suppose +one of your reserved countrymen would have done. I just determined to +make you talk about it, and to realize that there are lots of lovely +other things to comfort you, and that you are not all alone." + +Henry was strangely touched at her kind common sense; he already felt +better and not so utterly crushed out with despair. He told her how +sweet and good she was and what a true, unselfish woman--but Moravia +shook her head. + +"I am not a bit; it is purely interested, because I am so awfully fond +of you myself. I _love_ to pet you--there!" and she laughed softly, so +happy to see that she had been able even to make this slight effect, for +she saw the color had come back in a measure to his face, and her keen +brain told her that this was the right tack to go upon--not to be too +serious or show any sentiment, but just to use a sharp knife and cut +round all the wound and then pour honey and balm into it herself. + +"You and Sabine would never really have been happy together," she now +told him. "You were much too subservient to her and let her order you +about. She would have grown into a bully. Now, Mr. Arranstoun won't +stand a scrap of nonsense, I am sure; he would make any woman obey +him--if necessary by using brute force! They are perfectly suited to one +another, and very soon you will realize it and won't care. Do you +remember how we talked at dinner that night at Ebbsworth about women +having to go through a stage in their lives sooner or later when they +adored just strength in a man and wanted a master? Well, I wondered then +if Sabine had passed hers, but I was afraid of hurting you, so I would +not say that I rather thought she had not." + +"Oh, I wish you had!" Henry spoke at last. "And yet, no--the whole thing +has been inevitable from the first, I see it plainly. The only thing is, +if I had found it out sooner it might have saved Sabine pain. But it is +not too late, thank God--the divorce proceedings can be quashed; it +would have been a little ironical if she had had to marry him again." + +"Yes," Moravia agreed. "Now, if we could only get him to come here +immediately, we could explain it all to him and make him wire to his +lawyers at once." + +"I have already sent for him--I think he will arrive to-morrow at nine." + +"How glorious! It was just the dear, splendid thing you would do, +Henry," Moravia cried, getting up from her knees. "But we won't tell +Sabine; we will just let her mope there up in her room, feeling as +miserable as she deserves to be for not knowing her own mind. We will +all have a nice dinner--no, that won't be it--you and I will dine alone +here, up in this room, and Papa can talk to Madame Imogen. In this +house, thank goodness, we can all do what we like, and I am not going to +leave you, Henry, until we have got to say good-night. I don't care +whether you want me or not--I have just taken charge of you, and I mean +you to do what I wish--there!" + +And she crept closer to him again and laid her face upon his breast, so +that his cheek was resting upon her soft dark hair. Great waves of +comfort flowed to Henry. This sweet woman loved him, at all events. So +he put his arm round her again, while he assured her he did want her, +and that she was an angel, and other such terms. And by the time she +allowed him to go to his room to dress for dinner, a great measure of +his usual nerve and balance was restored. She had not given him a moment +to think, even shaking her finger at him and saying that if he was more +than twenty minutes dressing, she would herself come and fetch him and +bring him back to her room. + +Then, when he had left her, this true daughter of Eve, after ordering +dinner to be served to them, proceeded to make herself as beautiful as +possible for the next scene. She felt radiant. It was enormous what she +had done. + +"Why, he was on the verge of suicide!" she said to herself, "and now he +is almost ready to smile. Before the evening is over I shall have made +him kiss me--and before a month is past we shall be engaged. What +perfect nonsense to have silly mawkish sentiment over anything! The +thing to do is to win one's game." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Lord Fordyce found himself dressing in the usual way and with the usual +care, such creatures of habit are we--and yet, two hours earlier, he had +felt that life was over for him. Although he did not know it, Moravia +had been like a strong restorative applied at the right moment, and the +crisis of his agony had gone by. It was not that he was not still +overcome by sorrow, or that moments of complete anguish would not recur, +but the current had been diverted from taking a fatal turn, and +gradually things would mend. The perfect, practical common sense of +Moravia was so good for him. She was not intellectual like Sabine, she +was just a dear, beautiful, kind, ordinary woman, extremely in love with +him, but too truly American ever to lose her head, and now in real +spirits at the prospect of playing so delightful a game. She was +thoroughly versed in the ways of male creatures, and although she +possessed none of Sabine's indescribable charm, she had had numbers of +admirers and would-be lovers and was in every way fitted to cope with +any man. This evening, she had determined so to soothe, flatter and pet +Henry that he should go to bed not realizing that there was any change +in himself, but should be in reality completely changed. Her +preparations had been swift but elaborate. She had rushed to Madame +Imogen's room, and got her to take special messages to the chef, and +dinner would be waited on by her own maid--with Nicholas just to run in +and open the champagne. Then she selected a ravishing rose-pink chiffon +tea-gown, all lacy and fresh, and lastly she had a big fire made up and +all the curtains drawn, and so she awaited Henry's coming with +anticipations of delight. She had even got Mr. Cloudwater (that _pere +aprivoise!_) to mix her two dry Martini cocktails, which were ready for +her guest. + +Henry knocked at the door exactly at eight o'clock, and she went to meet +him with all the air of authority of a mother, and led him into the +room, pushing him gently into the chair she had prepared for him. A man +may have a broken heart--but the hurt cannot feel so great when he is +surrounded with every comfort and ministered to by a beautiful young +woman, who is not only in love with him, but has the nerve to keep her +head and not neglect a single point which can be of use in her game. + +If she had shown him too much sympathy, or just been ultra-refined and +silent and adoring, Henry by this time would have been quite as unhappy +as he had been at first; but he was too courteous by nature not to try +to be polite and appreciative of kindness when she tendered it so +frankly, no matter what his inward feelings might be--and this she knew +she could count upon and meant to exploit. She argued very truly that if +he were obliged to act, it would brace him up and be beneficial to him, +even though at the moment he would much prefer to be alone. So now she +made him drink the cocktail, and then she deliberately spoke of Sabine, +wondering if she would be awfully surprised to see Michael, and if he +would take her back with him to Arranstoun. Henry winced at every word, +but he had to answer, and presently he found he did not feel so sad. +Then, with dexterity, she turned the conversation to English politics +and got him to explain points to her, and at every moment she poured in +insidious flattery and frank, kind affection, so that by the time the +ice had come, Henry had begun to feel unaccountably soothed. She was +really a beautiful woman and arranged with a wonderful _chic_, and he +realized that she had never looked more charming or been so sweet. She +had all the sense of power being on her side, now that she had a free +hand, unhampered by honor to her friend, and when the dessert and the +cigarettes had come, she felt that she might indulge in a little +sentiment. + +She remembered that he only smoked cigars, and got up and helped him to +light one of his own; and when she was quite close to him, she put her +hand out and stroked his hair. + +"Even if he does not like it at first," she told herself, "he is too +polite to say so, and presently, just because he is a man, it will give +him a thrill." + +"I do love your light hair, Henry," she said aloud, "and it is so well +brushed. You Englishmen are certainly _soigne_ creatures, and I like +your lazy, easy grace--as though you would never put yourself out for +any one. I can't bear a fuss." She puffed her cigarette and did not wait +for him to answer her, but prattled on perfectly at ease. Even his +courtesy would not have prevented him from snubbing her, if she had been +the least tentative in her caressings, or the least diffident. But she +just took it as a matter of course that she could stroke his hair if she +wanted to, and presently it began to give him a sensation of pleasure +and rest. If she had, by word or look, suggested that she expected some +return, Henry would have frozen at once--but all she did was apparently +only to please herself, and so he had no defense to make. Still in the +character of domestic tyrant, she presently led him to the comfortable +armchair, and once more seated herself upon the stool close to the fire +by his side. Here she was silent for a few moments, letting the comfort +of the whole scene sink in to his brain--and then, when the maid came in +to clear away the dinner-table, she got up and went to the piano, where +she played some soft, but not sentimental tunes. Music of a certain sort +would be the worst thing for him, but a light air while Marie was in the +room could do no harm. Though, when she went over close to him again, +she saw that even this pause had allowed him time to think, and that his +face was once more overcome by melancholy, although he greeted her with +a smile. + +Something further must be done. + +"Henry," she said, cooingly, kneeling down beside him and taking his +hand, "will you promise me something, please. I am not clever like you, +but I do know one splendid recipe for taking away pain; every time the +thought of Sabine comes up to you and the old pictures you used to hold, +look them squarely in the face, and then deliberately replace them with +others that you can obtain--the strange law of periodicity will be in +motion and, if you have only will enough, gradually the pictures that +can be yours will unconsciously have taken the place of the old ones +which have caused you pain. Is it not much better to do that than just +to let yourself grieve--surely it is more like a man?" + +Henry looked at her, a little startled. This idea had never presented +itself to him. Yes, it was certainly more like a man to try any measure +than "just to grieve," and what if there should be some truth in this +suggestion--? What did the "law of periodicity" mean? What an American +phrase! How apt they were at coining expressive sentences. He looked +into the glowing ashes--there he seemed to see in ruins the whole fabric +of his dreams--but if there was a law which brought thoughts back, and +back again at the same hour each day, then Moravia was right: he must +blot out the old pictures and conjure up new ones--but what could they +be--? + +"You are musing, Henry," Moravia's voice went on. "Are you thinking over +what I said? I hope so, and you will find it is true. See, I will tell +you what to visualize there in the fire. You are looking at a splendid +English home, all peace and warmth, and you see yourself in it happy and +surrounded by friends. And you see yourself a great man, the center of +political interest, and everything coming toward you that heart can +desire. It is awfully wanting in common sense to think because you +cannot obtain one woman there are none others in the world." + +"Awfully," agreed Henry--suddenly taking in the attractive picture she +made, seated there at his knees, her white hand holding his hand. His +thoughts wandered for a moment, as thought will do when the mind is +overstrained; they wandered to the speculation of why American women +should have such small and white hands, and then he brought himself back +to the actual conversation. + +"You mean to tell me," he said, "that if every time I remember, when I +am dwelling upon the subject which pains me, that I must make my +thoughts turn to other things which give me pleasure, that gradually the +new thoughts will banish the old?" + +"Of course, I mean that," Moravia told him. "Everything comes in +cycles; that is why people get into habits. You just try, Henry; you can +cure the habit of pain as easily as you can cure any habit. It is all a +question of will." + +She saw that she had created interest in his eyes, and rejoiced. That +crisis had passed! and it would be safe to go on. + +"I shall not get him to kiss me to-night, after all," she decided to +herself. "If I did, he would probably feel annoyed to-morrow, with some +ridiculous sense of a too sudden disloyalty to Sabine's memory--and he +might be huffed with himself, too, thinking he had given way; it might +wound his vanity. I shall just draw him right out and make him want to +kiss me, but not consciously--and then it will be safe when he is at +that pitch to let him go off to bed." + +This plan she proceeded to put into practice. She exploited the subject +they had been talking of to its length, and aroused a sharp discussion +and argument--while she took care to place herself in the most alluring +attitudes as close to Henry as she possibly could be, while maintaining +a basis of frank friendship, and then she changed the current by getting +him to explain to her exactly what he had done about Michael, and how +they should arrange the meeting between the two, putting into her +eagerness all the sparkle that she would have used in collaborating with +him over the placing of the presents upon a Christmas tree--until, at +last, Henry began to take some sort of pride in the thing itself. + +"I want you to let Sabine think you are just going to forgive her for +her deception, but intend her to keep her word to you; and then you can +take Mr. Arranstoun up to her sitting-room when you have brought him +from the Pere Anselme's--and just push him in and let them explain +matters themselves. Won't it be a moment for them both!" + +Henry writhed. + +"Yes," he gasped, "a great moment." + +"And you are not going to care one bit, Henry," Moravia went on, with +authority. "I tell you, you are not." + +Then, having made all clear as to their joint action upon the morrow, +she spent the last half hour before they parted in instilling into his +spirit every sort of comfort and subtle flattery until, when the clock +struck eleven, Henry felt a sense of regret that he must say good-night. + +By this time, her head was within a few inches of his shoulder, and her +pretty eyes were gazing into his with the adoring affection of a child. + +"You are an absolute darling, Moravia," he murmured, with some emotion, +"the kindest woman in this world," and he bent and kissed her hair. + +She showed no surprise--to take the caress naturally would, she felt, +leave him with the pleasure of it, and arouse no disturbing +analyzations in his mind as to its meaning. + +"Now you have got to go right off to your little bed," she said, in a +matter of fact 'mother' tone, "and I should just like to come and tuck +you up, and turn your light out--but as I can't, you'll promise me you +will do it yourself at once--and close those eyes and go to sleep." Here +she permitted herself softly to shut his lids with her smooth fingers. + +Henry felt a delicious sense of comfort and peace creeping over him--he +knew he did not wish to leave her--but he got up and took both her +hands. + +"Good-night, you sweet lady," he said. "You will never know how your +kind heart has helped me to-night, nor can I express my gratitude for +your spontaneous sympathy," with which he kissed the fair hands, and +went regretfully toward the door. + +Moravia thought this the right moment to show a little further +sentiment. + +"Good-night, Henry," she faltered. "It has been rather heaven for +me--but I don't think I'll let you dine up here alone with me +again--it--it might make my heart ache, too." And then she dexterously +glided to the door of her bed-room and slipped in, shutting it softly. + +And Henry found himself alone, with some new fire running in his veins. + +When Moravia, listening, heard his footsteps going down the passage, she +clasped her hands in glee. + +"I 'shall never know'! 'My spontaneous sympathy'!--Oh! the darling, +innocent babe! But I've won the game. He will belong to me now--and I +shall make him happy. Ouida was most certainly right when she said, 'Men +are not vicious; they are but children.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Very early on Christmas morning, Lord Fordyce went down to the +_presbytere_ and walked with the Pere Anselme on his way to Mass. He had +come to a conclusion during the night. The worthy priest would be the +more fitting person to see Michael than he, himself; he felt he could +well leave all explanations in those able hands--and then, when his old +friend knew everything, he, Henry, would meet him and bring him to the +Chateau of Heronac, and so to Sabine. + +The Pere Anselme was quite willing to undertake this mission; he would +have returned to his breakfast by then and would await Michael's +arrival, he told Henry. Michael would come from the station, twenty +kilometers away, in Henry's motor. + +The wind had got up, and a gloriously rough sea beat itself against the +rocks. The thundering surf seemed some comfort to Henry. He was +unconscious of the fact that he felt very much better than he had ever +imagined that he could feel after such a blow. Moravia's maneuvrings and +sweet sympathy had been most effective, and Henry had fallen asleep +while her spell was still upon him--and only awakened after several +hours of refreshing slumber. Then it was he decided upon the plan, which +he put into execution as soon as daylight came. Now he left the old +priest at the church door and strode away along the rough coast road, +battling with the wind and trying to conquer his thoughts. + +He was following Moravia's advice, and replacing each one of pain as it +came with one of pleasure--and the cold air exhilarated his blood. + +Michael, meanwhile, in the slow, unpleasant train, was a prey to anxiety +and speculation. What had happened? There was no clue in Henry's dry +words in the telegram. Had there been some disaster? Was Henry violently +angry with him? What would their meeting bring? He had come in to the +Ritz from a dinner party, and had got the telegram just in time to rush +straight to the station with a hastily-packed bag, and get into an +almost-moving train, and all night long he had wondered and wondered, as +he sat in the corner of his carriage. But whatever had happened was a +relief--it produced action. He had no longer just to try to kill time +and stifle thought; he could do something for good or ill. + +It seemed as though he would never arrive, as the hours wore on and dawn +faded into daylight. Then, at last, the crawling engine drew up at his +destination, and he got out and recognized Henry's chauffeur waiting +for him on the platform. The swift rush through the cold air refreshed +him, and took away the fatigue of the long night--and soon they had +drawn up at the door of the _presbytere_, and he found himself being +shown by the priest's ancient housekeeper into the spotlessly clean +parlor. + +The Pere Anselme joined him in a moment, and they silently shook hands. + +"You are not aware, sir, why you have been sent for, I suppose?" the +priest asked, with his mild courtesy. "Pray be seated, there by the +stove, and I will endeavor to enlighten you." + +Michael sat down. + +"Please tell me everything," he said. + +The Pere Anselme spread out his thin hands toward the warmth of the +china, while he remained standing opposite his visitor. + +"The good God at last put it into the mind of the Lord Fordyce that our +Dame d'Heronac has not been altogether happy of late--and upon my +suggestion he questioned her as to the cause of this, and learned what I +believe to be the truth--which you, sir, can corroborate--namely, that +you are her husband and are obtaining the divorce not from desire, but +from a motive of loyalty to your friend." + +"That is the case," assented Michael quietly, a sudden great joy in his +heart. + +The priest was silent, so he went on: + +"And what does Lord Fordyce mean to do?--release her and give her back +to me--or what, _mon Pere_?" + +"Is it necessary to ask?" and Pere Anselme lifted questioning and almost +whimsical eyebrows. "Surely you must know that your friend is a +gentleman!" + +"Yes, I know that--but it must mean the most awful suffering to +him--poor, dear old Henry--Is he quite knocked out?" + +"The good God tries no one beyond his strength--he will find +consolation. But, meanwhile, it will be well that you let me offer you +the hospitality of my poor house for rest and refreshment"--here the old +man made a courtly bow--"and when you have eaten and perhaps bathed, you +can take the road to the Chateau of Heronac, where you will find Lord +Fordyce by the garden wall, and he will perhaps take you to Madame +Sabine. That is as he may think wisest--I believe she is quite +unprepared. Of the reception you are likely to receive from her you are +the best judge yourself." + +"It seems too good to be true!" cried Michael, suddenly covering his +face with his hands. "We have all been through an awful time, _mon +Pere_." + +"So it would seem. It is not the moment for me to tell you that you drew +it all upon yourselves--since the good God has seen fit to restore you +to happiness." + +"I drew it upon us," protested Michael. "You know the whole story, +Father?" + +The old priest coughed slightly. + +"I know most of it, my son. In it, you do not altogether shine----" + +Michael got up from his chair, while he clasped his hands forcibly. + +"No, indeed, I do not--I know I have been an unspeakable brute--I have +not the grain of an excuse to offer--and yet she has forgiven me. Women +are certainly angels, are they not, _mon Pere_?" + +The Cure of Heronac sighed gently. + +"Angels when they love, and demons when they hate--of an unbalance--but +a great charm. It lies with us men to decide the feather-weight which +will make the scale go either way with them--to heaven or hell." + +Here the ancient housekeeper announced that coffee and rolls were ready +for them in the other room, and the Pere Anselme led the way without +further words. + +Less than an hour later, the two men who loved this one woman met just +over the causeway, where Henry awaited Michael's coming. It was a +difficult moment for them both, but they clasped hands with a few +ordinary words. Henry's walk in the wind had strengthened his nerves. +For some reason, he was now conscious that he was feeling no acute pain +as he had expected that he would do, and that there was even some kind +of satisfaction in the thought that, on this Christmas morning, he was +able to bring great happiness to Sabine. He could not help remarking, as +they crossed the drawbridge, that Michael looked a most suitable mate +for her: he was such a picture of superb health and youth. As they +entered the courtyard, Moravia and her little son came out of the main +door. + +The Princess greeted them gaily. She was going to show Girolamo the big +waves from the causeway bridge before going on to church; they had a +good half-hour. She experienced no surprise at seeing Michael, only +asking about his night journey's uncomfortableness, and then she turned +to Henry: + +"Come and join us there by the high parapet, Henry, as soon as you have +taken Mr. Arranstoun up to Sabine. She has not come out of her wing yet; +but I know that she is dressed and in her sitting-room," and smiling +merrily, she took Girolamo's little hand and went her way. + +There was no sound when the two men reached Sabine's sitting-room door. +Henry knocked gently, but no answer came; so he opened it and looked in. +Great fires burned in the wide chimneys and his flowers gave forth sweet +scent, but the Lady of Heronac was absent, or so it seemed. + +"Come in, Michael, and wait," Henry said; and then, from the embrasure +of the far window, they heard a stifled exclamation, and saw that Sabine +was indeed there after all, and had risen from the floor, where she had +been kneeling by the window-seat looking out upon the waves. + +Her face was deadly pale and showed signs of a night's vigil, but when +she caught sight of Michael it was as though the sun had emerged from a +cloud, so radiant grew her eyes. She stood quite still, waiting until +they advanced near to her down the long room, and then she steadied +herself against the back of a tall chair. + +"Sabine," Henry said, "I want you to be very happy on this Christmas +day, and so I have brought your husband back to you. All these foolish +divorce proceedings are going to be stopped, and you and he can settle +all your differences, together, dear--" then, as a glad cry forced +itself from Sabine's lips--his voice broke with emotion. She stretched +out her hands to him, and he took one and drew her to Michael, who stood +behind him. + +Then he took also his old friend's hand, and clasped it upon Sabine's. + +"I am not much of a churchman," he said, hoarsely, "but this part of the +marriage service is true, I expect. 'Those whom God hath joined together +let no man put asunder.'" Then he dropped their hands, and turned toward +the door. + +"Oh! Henry, you are so good to us!" Sabine cried. "No words can say what +I feel." + +But Lord Fordyce could bear no more--and murmuring some kind of +blessing, he got from the room, leaving the two there in the embrasure +of the great window gazing into each other's eyes. + +As the door shut, Michael spoke at last: + +"Sabine--My own!" he whispered, and held out his arms. + + * * * * * + +When Henry left Sabine's sitting-room, he staggered down the stairs like +one blind--the poignant anguish had returned, and the mantle of comfort +fell from his shoulders. He was human, after all, and the picture of the +rapture on the faces of the two, showing him what he had never obtained, +stabbed him like a knife. He felt that he would willingly drop over the +causeway bridge into the boiling sea, and finish all the pain. He saw +Moravia's blue velvet dress in the distance down the road when he left +the lodge gates, and he fled into the garden; he must be alone--but she +had seen him go, and knew that another crisis had come and that she must +conquer this time also. So apparently only for the gratification of +Girolamo, she turned and entered the garden--the garden which seemed to +be a predestined spot for the stratagems of lovers!--then she strolled +toward the sea-wall, not turning her head in the direction where she +plainly perceived Henry had gone, but taking care that Girolamo should +see him, as she knew he would run to him. This he immediately did, and +dragged his victim back to his mother in the pavilion which looked out +over the sea. Girolamo was now three years old and a considerable imp; +he displayed Henry proudly and boasted of his catch--while Moravia +scolded him sweetly and asked Henry to forgive them for intruding upon +his solitude. + +"You know I understand you must want to be alone, dear friend, and I +would not have come if I had seen you," she said, tenderly, while she +turned and, leaning out, beckoned to the nurse, whom she could just see +across the causeway on the courtyard wall, where the raised parapet was. +Then allowing her feelings to overcome her judgment, she flung out her +arms and seizing Henry's hands, she drew them into her warm, huge muff. + +"Henry--I can't help it--!" she gasped. "It breaks my heart to see you +so cold and white and numb--I want to warm and comfort and love you back +to life again----!" + +At this minute, the sun burst through the scudding clouds, and blazed in +upon them from the archway; and it seemed to Henry as if a new vitality +rushed into his frozen veins. She was so human and pretty, and young and +real. Love for him spoke from her sparkling, brown eyes. The ascendancy +she had obtained over him on the previous evening returned in a measure; +he no longer wanted to get away from her and be alone. + +He made some murmuring reply, and did not seek to draw away his +hands--but a sudden change of feeling seemed to come over Moravia for +she lowered her head and a deep, pink flush grew in her cheeks. + +"What will you think of me, Henry?" she whispered, pulling at his grasp, +which grew firmer as she tried to loosen it. "I"--and then she raised +her eyes, which were suffused with tears. "Oh! it seems such horrid +waste for you to be sick with grief for Sabine, who is happy now--and +that only I must grieve----" + +Girolamo had seen his nurse entering the far gate and was racing off to +meet her, so that they were quite alone in the pavilion now, and +Moravia's words and the tears in her fond eyes had a tremendous effect +upon Henry. It moved some unknown cloud in his emotions. She, too, +wanted comfort, not he alone--and he could bring it to her and be +soothed in return, so he drew her closer and closer to him, and framed +her face in his hands. + +"Moravia," he said, tenderly. "You shall not grieve, dear child--If you +want me, take me, and I will give you all the devotion of true +friendship--and, who knows, perhaps we shall find the Indian summer, +after all, now that the gates of my fool's paradise are shut." + +In the abstract, it was not highly gratifying to a woman's vanity, this +declaration! but, as a matter of fact, it was beyond Moravia's wildest +hopes. She had not a single doubt in her astute American mind that, once +she should have the right to the society of Henry--with her knowledge of +the ways of man--that she would soon be able to obliterate all regrets +for Sabine, and draw his affections completely to herself. + +At this juncture, she showed a stroke of genius. + +"Henry," she said, her voice vibrating with profound feeling, "I do want +you--more than anything I have ever wanted in my life--and I will make +you forget all your hurts--in my arms." + +There was certainly nothing left for Lord Fordyce, being a gallant +gentleman, to do but to stoop his tall head and kiss her--and, to his +surprise, he found this duty turn into a pleasure--so that, in a few +moments, when they were close together looking out upon the waves +through the pavilion's wide windows, he encircled her with his arm--and +then he burst into a laugh, but though it was cynical, it contained no +bitterness. + +"Moravia--you are a witch," he told her. "Here is a situation that, +described, would read like pathos--and yet it has made us both happy. +Half an hour ago, I was wishing I might step over into that foam--and +now----" + +"And now?" demanded the Princess, standing from him. + +"And now I realize that, with the New Year, there may dawn new joys for +me. Oh! my dear, if you will be content with what I can give you, let us +be married soon and go to India for the rest of the winter." + + * * * * * + +The Pere Anselme noticed that his only congregation from the Chateau +consisted of Mr. Cloudwater and Madame Imogen; and he thanked the good +God--as he sent up a fervent prayer for the absentees' happiness. + +"It means that they two are near heaven, and that consolation will come +to the disconsolate one, since all four remain at home," he told +himself. This was a denouement worthy of Christmas Day, and of far more +value in his eyes than the two pairs' mere presence in his church. + +"The ways of the good God are marvellous," he mused, as he went to his +vestry, "and it is fitting that youth should find its mate. We grieve +and wring our hearts--and nothing is final--and while there is life +there is hope--that love may bloom again. Peace be with them." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +When the first moment of ecstasy in the knowledge that they were indeed +given back to each other was over, Michael drew Sabine to the window +seat where she had been crouching only that short while before in silent +misery. + +"Sweetheart," he entreated, "now you have got to tell me everything--do +you understand, Sabine--every single thing from the first moment in the +chapel when we made those vows until now when we are going to keep them. +I want to know everything, darling child--all your thoughts and what you +did with your life--and when you hated me and when you loved me----" + +They sat down on the velvet cushions and Sabine nestled into his arms. + +"It is so difficult, Michael," she cooed, "how can I begin? I was +sillier and more ignorant than any other girl of seventeen could +possibly be, I think--don't you? Oh! don't let us speak of that part--I +only remember that when you kissed me first in the chapel some kind of +strange emotion came to me--then I was frightened----" + +"But not after a while," he interpolated, something of rapturous +triumph in his fond glance, while he caressed and smoothed her hair, as +her little head lay against his shoulder, "I thought you had forgiven me +before I went to sleep." + +"Perhaps I had--I did not know myself--only that there in the gray dawn +everything seemed perfectly awful and horror and terror came upon me +again, and I had only one wild impulse to rush away--surely you can +understand--" she paused. + +"Go on, sweetheart," he commanded, "I shall not let you off one detail. +I love to make you tell me every single thing"--and he took her hand and +played with her wedding ring, but not taking it off, while Sabine +thrilled with happiness. + +"Well--you did not wake--and so presently I got into the sitting-room, +and at last found the certificate--and just as I was going out of the +door on to the balcony I heard you call my name sleepily--and for one +second I nearly went back--but I did not, and got safely away and to the +hotel!" + +"Think of my not waking!" Michael exclaimed. "If only I had--you would +never have been allowed to go--it is maddening to remember what that +sleep cost--but how did you manage at the hotel?" + +"It was after five o'clock and the side door was open into the yard. Not +a soul saw me, and I carried out my original plan. I think when I was in +the train I had already begun to regret bitterly, but it was too late +to go back--and then next day your letter came to me at Mr. Parsons' and +all my pride was up in arms!" + +Here Michael held her very tight. + +"Oh, what a brute I was to write that letter," he cried. + +"All I wanted then was to go away and forget all about you and +everything and have lots of nice clothes and join my friend Moravia in +Paris. You see, I was still just a silly ignorant child. Mr. Parsons got +me a good maid who is with me still, and he agreed at last to my taking +the name of Howard--I thought if I kept the Arranstoun everyone would +know." + +"But what did you intend to do, darling, with your life. We were both +crazy, of course, you to go--and I to let you." + +"I had no concrete idea. Just to see the world and buy what I wanted, +and sit up late--and not have to obey any rules, I think--and underneath +there was a great excitement all the time in the thought of looking +perfectly splendid in being a grand grown-up lady when you came +back--for of course I believed then that we must meet again." + +"Well, what changed all that and made you become engaged to Henry, you +wicked little thing!" and Michael kissed her fondly--"Was it because I +did not come back?--but you could have cabled to me at any time." + +An enchanting confusion crept over Sabine--she hesitated--she began to +speak, then stopped and finally buried her face in his coat. + +"What is it, darling?" he asked with almost a tone of anxiety in his +voice. "Did you have some violent flirtation with someone at this stage? +and you think I shall be annoyed--but indeed I shall not, because I do +fully realize that whatever you did was my fault for leaving you +alone--Tell me, Sabine, you sweet child." + +"No--it wasn't that----" + +"Well--then?" + +"Well--then I was--terrified--it was my old maid, Simone, who told me +what had happened--I was still too ignorant to understand things." + +"Told you what? What wretched story did the old woman invent about me?" +Michael's eyes were haughty--that she could listen to stories from a +maid! + +Sabine clasped her hands together--she was deeply moved. + +"Oh, Michael--you are stupid! How can I possibly tell you--if you won't +understand." + +Then she jumped up suddenly and swiftly brought her blue-despatch box +from beside her writing-table and unlocked it with her bracelet +key--while Michael with an anxious, puzzled face watched her intently. +She sat down again beside him when she had found what she sought--the +closed blue leather case which she had looked at so many times. + +"If you are going to show me some brute's photograph I simply refuse to +look," Michael said. "All that part of your life is over and we are +going to begin afresh, darling one, no matter what you did." + +But she crept nearer to him as she opened the case--and her voice was +full and sweet, shy tenderness as she blurted out: + +"It is not a brute's photograph, Michael, it is the picture of your own +little son." + +"My God!" cried Michael, the sudden violent emotion making him very +pale. "Sabine--how dared you keep this from me all these years--I--" +Then he seized her in his arms and for a few seconds they could neither +of them speak--his caresses were so fierce. At last he exclaimed +brokenly, "Sabine--with the knowledge of this between us how could you +ever have even contemplated belonging to another man--Oh! if I had only +known. Where is--my son?" + +"You must listen, Michael, to everything," Sabine whispered, "then you +will understand--I was simply terrified when I realized at last, and +only wanted to go back to you and be comforted, so I wrote a letter at +once to tell you, and as Mr. Parsons was in England again I sent it to +him to have it put safely into your hands. But by then you had gone +right off to China, and Mr. Parsons sent the letter back to me, it was +useless to forward it to you, he said, you might not get it for a year." + +Michael strained her to his heart once more, while his eyes grew wet. + +"Oh, my poor little girl--all alone, how frightfully cruel it was, no +wonder you hated me then, and could not forgive me even afterward." + +"I did not hate you--I was only terrified and longing to rush off +somewhere and hide--so Simone suggested San Francisco--the furthest off +she knew, and we hurried over there and then I was awfully ill, and when +my baby was born I very nearly died." + +Michael was wordless, he could only kiss her. "That is what made him so +delicate--my wretchedness and rushing about," she went on, "and so I was +punished because, after three months, God took him back again--my dear +little one--just when I was beginning to grow comforted and to love him. +He was exactly like you, Michael, with the same blue eyes, and I +thought--I thought, we should go back to Arranstoun and finish our +estrangements and be happy again--the three of us--when you did come +home--I grew radiant and quite well--" Here two big tears gathered in +her violet eyes and fell upon Michael's hand, and he shivered with the +intensity of his feelings as he held her close. + +"We had made our plans to go East--but my little sweetheart caught cold +somehow--and then he died--Oh! I can't tell you the grief of it, +Michael, I was quite reckless after that--it was in June and I did not +care what happened to me for a long while. I just wanted to get back to +Moravia, not knowing she had left Paris for Rome--and then I crossed in +July--and came here to Brittany and saw and bought Heronac as I told you +before. I heard then that you had not returned from China or made any +sign--and it seemed all so cruel and ruthless, and as there were no +longer any ties between us I thought that I would crush you from my life +and forget you, and that I would educate myself and make something of my +mind." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear little girl," Michael sighed. "If you knew how all +this is cutting me to the heart to think of the awful brute I have +been--to think of you bearing things all alone--I somehow never realized +the possibility of this happening--but once or twice when it did cross +my mind I thought of course you would have cabled to me if so--I am +simply appalled now at the casual selfishness of my behavior--can you +ever forgive me, Sabine?" + +She smoothed back his dark thick hair and looked into his bold eyes, now +soft and glistening with tears. + +"Of course I can forgive you, Michael--I belong to you, you see----" + +So when he had kissed her enough in gratitude and contrition he besought +her to go on. + +"The years passed and I thought I had really forgotten you--and my life +grew so peaceful with the Pere Anselme and Madame Imogen here at +Heronac, and all sorts of wonderful and interesting studies kept +developing for me. I seemed to grow up and realize things and the +memory of you grew less and less--but society never held out any +attractions for me--only to be with Moravia. I had taken almost a +loathing for men; their actions seemed to me all cruel and predatory, +not a single one attracted me in the least degree--until this summer at +Carlsbad when we met Henry. And he appeared so good and true and +kind--and I felt he could lift me to noble things and give me a guiding +hand to greatness of purpose in life--I liked him--but I must tell you +the truth, Michael, and you will see how small I am," here she held +tightly to Michael's hand--"I do not think I would ever have promised +him at Carlsbad that I would try to free myself only that I read in the +paper that you were at Ostende--with Daisy Van der Horn. That +exasperated me--even though I thought I was absolutely indifferent to +you after five years. I had never seen your name in the paper before, it +was the first indication I had had that you had come home--and the whole +thing wounded my pride. I felt that I must ask for my freedom from you +before you possibly could ask for yours from me. So I told Henry that +very night that I had made up my mind." + +"Oh! you dear little goose," Michael interrupted. "Not one of those +ladies mattered to me more than the other--they were merely to pass the +time of day, of no importance whatever." + +"I dare say--but I am telling you my story, Michael--Well, Henry was so +wonderful, so good--and it got so that he seemed to mean everything +fine, he drew me out of myself and your shadow grew to mean less and +less to me and I believed that I had forgotten you quite--except for the +irritation I felt about Daisy--and then by that extraordinary turn of +fate, Henry himself brought you here, and I did not even know the name +of the friend who was coming with him; he had not told me in the hurried +postscript of his letter saying he was bringing some one--I saw you both +arrive from the lodge, and when I heard the tones of your voice--Ah! +well, you can imagine what it meant!" + +"No, I want to know, little darling--what did it mean?" and Michael +looked into her eyes with fond command. + +"It made my heart beat and my knees tremble and a strange thrill came +over me--I ought to have known then that to feel like that did not mean +indifference--oughtn't I?" + +"I expect so--but what a moment it was when we did meet, you must come +to that!" + +"Arrogant, darling creature you are, Michael! You love to make me +recount all these things," and Sabine looked so sweetly mutinous that he +could not remain tranquilly listening for the moment, but had to make +passionate love to her--whispering every sort of endearment into her +little ear--though presently she continued the recital of her story +again: + +"I stood there in the lodge after the shock of seeing you had passed, +and I began to burn with every sort of resentment against you--I had had +all the suffering and you had gone free--and I just felt I wanted to +punish you by pretending not to know you! Think of it! How small--and +yet there underneath I felt your old horribly powerful charm!" + +"Oh, you did, did you! You darling," Michael exclaimed--and what do you +suppose I felt--if we had only rushed there and then into each other's +arms!" + +"I was quite prepared for you in the garden--and did not I play my part +well! You got quite white, you know with surprise--and I felt +exquisitely excited. I could see you had come in all innocence--having +probably forgotten our joking arrangement that I should call myself Mrs. +Howard--I could not think why you did not speak out and denounce me. It +hurt my pride, I thought it was because you wanted to divorce me and +marry Daisy that you were indifferent about it. I did not know it was +because you had given your word of honor to Henry not to interfere with +the woman he loved. Then after dinner Henry told me you knew that he and +I were practically engaged--that stung me deeply--it seemed to prove +your indifference--so things developed and we met in the +garden--Michael, was not that a wonderful hour! How we both acted. If +you had indicated by word or look that you remembered me, I could not +have kept it up, we should have had to tell Henry then--we were playing +at cross-purposes and my pride was wounded." + +"I understand, sweetheart, go on." + +"Well, I was miserable at luncheon, and then when you went out in the +boat--being with you was like some intoxicating drink--I was more +excited than I had ever been in my life. I was horrid toward Henry, I +would not own it to myself, but I felt him to be the stumbling block in +the way. So I was extra nice to him to convince myself--and I let him +hold my arm, which I had never done before and you saw that in the +garden. I suppose--and thought I loved him and so went--that was nice of +you, Michael--but stupid, wasn't it!" + +"Ridiculously stupid, everything I did was stupid that separated you +from me. The natural action of my character would have been just to +seize you again and carry you off resisting or unresisting to +Arranstoun, but some idiotic sentiment of honor to Henry held me." + +"I cried a little, I believe, when I got your note--I went up into this +room and opened this despatch-box and read your horrid letter again--and +I believe I looked into the blue leather case, too"--here she opened it +once more--and they both examined it tenderly. "Of course you can't see +anything much in this little photograph--but he really was so like you, +Michael, and when I looked at it again after seeing you, I could have +sobbed aloud, I wanted you so----" + +"My dear, dear, little girl----" + +"Henry had told me casually that afternoon your story, and how he had +not stayed at Arranstoun for the wedding because he thought your action +so unfair to the bride!--and how that now you felt rather a dog in the +manger about her. That infuriated me! Can't you understand I had only +one desire, to show you that I did not care since you had gone off. +Henry was simply angelic to me--and asked me so seriously if he could +really make me happy, if not he would release me then. I felt if he +would take me, all bruised and restless, and comfort me and bring me +peace, I did indeed wish to be his wife--and if nothing more had +happened we might have grown quite happy from then, but we went to +England--and I saw you again--and--Oh! well, Michael, need I tell you +any more? You know how we fenced and how at last we could not bear +it--up in Mrs. Forster's room!" + +"It was the most delirious and most unhappy moment of my life, darling." + +"And now it is all over--isn't Henry a splendid man? I told him all this +yesterday--the Pere Anselme had suggested to him to come and ask me for +the truth. He behaved too nobly--but I did not know what he intended to +do, nor if it were too late to stop the divorce or anything, so I was +miserable." + +"You shall not be so any more--we will go back to Arranstoun at once, +darling, and begin a new and glorious life together. From every point of +view that is the best thing to be done. We could not possibly go on all +staying here, it would be grotesque--and I am quite determined that I +will never leave you again--do you hear, Sabine?" And he turned her face +and made her look into his eyes. + +"Yes, I hear!--and know that you were always the most masterful +creature!" + +"Do you want to change me?" + +But Sabine let herself be clasped in his arms while she abandoned +herself to the deep passionate joy she felt. + +"No--Michael--I would not alter you in one little bit, we are neither of +us very good or very clever, but I just love you and you love me--and we +are mates! There!" + + * * * * * + +They carried out their plans and arrived at Arranstoun Castle a few days +later. Michael wired to have everything ready for their reception and +both experienced the most profound emotion when first they entered +Michael's sitting-room again. + +"There is the picture, darling, that you fell through and--here is Binko +waiting to receive and welcome you!" + +The mass of fat wrinkles got up from his basket and condescended, after +showing a wild but suppressed joy at the sight of his master, to be +re-introduced to his mistress who expressed due appreciation of his +beauty. + +"That old dog has been my only confidant about you, Sabine, ever since I +came back--he could tell you how frantic I was, couldn't you, Binko?" + +Binko slobbered his acquiescence and then the tea was brought in; Sabine +sat down to pour it out in the very chair she had sat in long ago. She +was taller now, but still her little feet did not reach the ground. + +The most ecstatic happiness was permeating them both, and it all seemed +like a divine dream to be there together and alone. They reconstructed +every incident of their first meeting in a fond duet--each supplying a +link, and they talked of all their new existence together and what it +would mean, and presently Michael drew Sabine toward the chapel where +the lights were all lit. + +"Darling," he whispered, "I want to make new vows of love and tenderness +to you here, because to-night is our real wedding night--I want you to +forget that other one and blot it right out." + +But Sabine moved very close to him as she clung to his arm, and her +whole soul was in her eyes as she answered: + +"I do not want to forget it. I know very well that I had begun to love +you even then. But, Michael--do you remember that undecorated window +which you told me had been left so probably for you to embellish as an +expiatory offering, because rapine and violence were in the blood--Well, +dear love, I think we must put up the most beautiful stained glass +together there--in memory of our little son. For we are equally to blame +for his brief life and death." + +But Michael was too moved to speak and could only clasp her hand. + + + THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man and the Moment, by Elinor Glyn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN AND THE MOMENT *** + +***** This file should be named 17048.txt or 17048.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/0/4/17048/ + +Produced by Stacy Brown Thellend, Suzanne Shell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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